Silent Graves (Brandon Fisher FBI Series)

by Carolyn Arnold

  Jack laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” The man hardly ever expressed amusement, and I hadn’t told a joke.

  “Love of his life? That’s a little drastic, don’t you think? People fall in love every day. What’s the big deal?”

  I studied his eyes, and, while I wanted to hold back my thoughts from becoming audible, I wasn’t sure I could. There was something I needed answered. “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Jack’s facial features went back to stone.

  “When we first interrogated Keyes he asked what you would know about raising a kid alone at his age. You said you knew.” I let the statement sit there.

  He lit a cigarette and put the SUV into gear.

  “You think that you can avoid this conversation forever? I’m pretty persistent you know.”

  “Hmm.” A wisp of white expelled from Jack’s mouth.

  “What’s the big deal? You have a kid. Is it a girl? A boy? How old are they? Where do they live?”

  Jack slammed the brakes at a red light, and the SUV lurched forward from momentum. He inhaled on the cigarette and let the smoke ride out on a slow exhale. “If it’s not a big deal, maybe you should focus more on the case, less on my life.”

  My fists balled in my lap, and I had the urge to punch something. The way he established eye contact with me I knew this conversation was over. He still didn’t “win” though. I would revisit the topic. I was too stubborn to let it go.

  Chapter 46

  Hours had turned into days. She shivered in the darkness of the pit where she had been banished, surviving, somehow, in her own filth. Her stomach ached from starvation. Her bladder and bowels had excreted their matter repeatedly. The smell of feces had lodged up her nose and disarmed her sinuses. It was no longer detectable or noticeable beyond the feeling of it beneath her, against her.

  The thought made her gut heave and spin, but with no contents, the gag reflex came up wanting. She pulled on her restraints. The chains that bit into her wrists were no longer daunting. She would not die in here. She couldn’t allow herself to be found this way.

  Surely, she would be rescued.

  Reality extinguished the spark of hope before it set aflame, and tears fell down her cheeks. She remembered the drive out here, how remote it was. No one would find her.

  If only she could break free.

  She pulled on her bonds with more force, letting out a scream as the metal tore flesh. Succumbing to the realization she would not be leaving this room without him releasing her, she let her body fall limp and welcomed death.

  Her head had fallen to the side when she heard the noise—a distinct moaning in the floorboards above her. He was coming.

  She strained to listen closely, trying to discern where he was on his path to her. The top of the stairs. When his boots hit the wood, she heard something else—another set of footsteps. He was not alone.

  The light turned on, nearly blinding her. She turned her head to face who was coming. Her heart raced. Her nightmare was that he had brought another man to rape her. He had always talked about a three-way—when they were mutual lovers—and she had shot the idea down.

  Tremors ran through her, and she willed herself to die.

  “I have someone I want you to meet,” he said. There was a woman beside him in a white dress. “You two will get on fine, for now. This is my angel Leslie.” He kissed the lady’s forehead as if a doting lover. “And this, Leslie, is Sydney. You may recognize her from the news. She is famous now. I made her—”

  Leslie lurched forward, bent in half, and vomited on the floor. Her eyes were wide when she resumed full height.

  His eyes were on her filth. “What have you done?” He gripped Leslie’s wrist and said, “You stay right there, or I will come after you.”

  He went to the corner of the room and pulled out a hose. “We’ll have to get you cleaned up, won’t we? Crap everywhere.”

  Cold water hit Sydney’s flesh, each droplet as a plunging needle.

  He put down the hose and moved to a ratcheting system above the end of the table.

  “No! Please! No!”

  He turned the crank until Sydney was suspended upside down, her legs splayed open. He picked it up again and blasted water, first on the table to clear off the rest of the visible excrement, and then back on her.

  He ran the hose water down her torso. She bucked against the chains, but they didn’t give much. He moved closer to her and sprayed her inner thighs.

  What he did next had her wishing for death.

  Chapter 47

  Jack and I were going to meet up with Paige and Zachery at the PWPD. The onboard system rang, and Agent Lane came over the speakers.

  “The cabin sheets gave us vaginal secretion and DNA. Two of the missing women can be tied to that bed—Amy Rogers and Nina Harris. There was also DNA gathered from male ejaculate. It didn’t match Keyes or anyone else in the database, but it matched the rape case from the victim in two thousand.”

  “That means our unsub takes them up there, has sex with them, and then kills them. The burial site needs to be near the cabin,” I summarized, “but there was a full search—dogs, the entire gamut. Nothing was found. Evidence shows two victims were taken there, assuming he didn’t change the sheets. Why them?”

  “Good question, and we may not get it answered.”

  “There are not many houses near the cabin, and we already focused on the ones closest to the river. What’s to say he didn’t come from a little farther away? Also, what about the places where no one was home?” Jack asked.

  “There were a couple of those, and the backgrounds were pulled on the homeowners and came up empty. No rap sheet, no priors. Unfortunately, there’s no way to pull that information for all the houses in the area. In the nearest vicinity alone, investigators visited twenty homes. Full background checks, usually two per household,” Lane said.

  “And now I’m suggesting we move farther out.”

  “Certainly won’t hurt.”

  We had just disconnected when Paige called with the results of the autopsy. Everything that Rideout had provided her was pretty much what we knew at the crime scene. She also told us that Monica Rice wasn’t an active member of any gym that they had found.

  “Brandon is going to get started on contacting Holmes’s former employers based on the resume given to Keyes.” Jack announced this without a sideways glance to me in the passenger seat. “We’ll be back at the station soon. We can revisit all we know about Holmes and discuss the next step.”

  Holmes’s resume was on my lap, and my cell was in hand.

  Jack disconnected the call without a good-bye and lit up another cigarette. The air went stale between us, an uncomfortable silence—at least to me. He never felt the need to fill the void.

  There was one way to break the monotony. I dialed the first reference listed and followed through the list of four, talking to the manager of each one. It only took seconds to determine they all had the same thing to say, Chad was chronically late or a no-show.

  The last gym on the list was answered on the third ring, and I was connected with a manager by the name of Wendy Pollard. Her voice revealed hesitation. She wanted to know what the FBI wanted of her.

  “I’m calling to inquire about a past employee—Chad Holmes.” By this point, the introductory statement rolled off my tongue.

  The line went so quiet that I wondered if we were still connected. I waited it out.

  “What about him?”

  “What resulted in him leaving his job there?”

  “Are you really asking if it was a mutual decision? No. He was constantly late. Sometimes he never even showed up for his class. I’m not sure why he put me down as a reference. I don’t have a lot of good to say about him, but I guess I’m not supposed to say that either.”

  Any misgivings Wendy experienced about talking to the FBI had obviously vanished. I also picked up her words ‘I’m not sure why he put me down as a reference.’ She mus
t have been called about his employment on many occasions because I didn’t mention I had gotten her number from Chad’s resume.

  “You said he had a class?” My last word raised in volume more than a question required. Jack had come up rather fast on the back of a MINI Cooper sitting at a red light and applied the brakes at the last minute.

  He kept his focus straight ahead.

  Another drag on the cigarette. Another exhale of smoke.

  Wendy answered. “Yes, he taught a spin-cycle class. He had the studio packed. You can imagine how unimpressed I was when he didn’t show. All those angry members.”

  “Did he ever give a reason for being late or missing classes?”

  “Never. He’d look at me like it was none of my business, even though he never came out and said it. If he had, I would have fired him on the spot.”

  “You were all right with that?”

  “I fired him, remember?”

  I deserved the tone of voice that fired back at me. There was just something more about this, maybe it was a feeling more than anything. “I know if I was late on a regular basis, and missed my shift,” I turned to Jack’s profile until he faced me, “I would be fired.”

  Jack nodded, and I believe a smile started to form before the cigarette went back into his mouth.

  The line went quiet again. “Miss Pollard?”

  “Please don’t call me that. It sounds so formal.”

  “Were you in a relationship with Chad Holmes?”

  “A relationship would involve feelings.”

  I got Jack’s attention and pointed a finger at my cell. “So, you slept with him? That’s why you gave him some slack.”

  “It couldn’t go on forever the way it was. If he missed one more class, or was late one more time, and one more member complained to head office, I’d be out of a job. It was his or mine.”

  “How did the relationship—the arrangement—between you two work out after you let him go?”

  “How do you think? By firing him, I was also telling him I wasn’t going to fuck him again.”

  I could tell by the emphasis she put on the word, she attempted to shock me by her brashness. It would take more than that. “How was it anyway?”

  “Excuse me.”

  “The sex. How was it?” My question had Jack swerving the SUV to a stop at the curb.

  Seconds went by.

  “This could be very important to the case we’re working on.”

  “What do you want with Chad anyway? You haven’t told me.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s part of an open investigation.”

  Another few seconds went by before she answered my question.

  “The sex was great. Some of the best I’ve had, but he was a little kinky.”

  “Was he aggressive?”

  “He could be forceful at times, almost like he was angry. Like he wasn’t even there with me but somewhere else. Then other times he could be so delicate with his touch, you know? Like he loved me even.” She paused. I never spoke in case she had more to add. “Does that help you?” The snide tone was obvious.

  “It does, actually. Thank you for your—”

  The line went dead.

  “The manager had a sexual relationship with Holmes.” Jack didn’t phrase it as a question, but an assessment. “And how was it?” His eyes contained a spark of amusement.

  “He’s got control issues, like we pegged for our unsub.”

  Chapter 48

  “Any word from Nadia yet?” Paige asked as Jack and I walked into the room with the crime scene boards.

  “Nothing yet.” I answered.

  Paige’s eyes skimmed over me and settled on Jack.

  “The ballistics results came back on the bullets imbedded in Gray. A .22 caliber, shot by a Ruger Single-Nine revolver. I already had Nadia check to see if one is registered to Holmes. He doesn’t show any guns, period.”

  “Hmm.” Jack placed two hands on his hips, and his gaze took in the room without focusing on one particular area. He had a way of doing that—taking in everything and making a summation in seconds.

  “That revolver is a rather common gun.” Paige drove the statement home with a sharp tone and a glare. If looks could silence me, that one would have worked.

  Jack addressed Zachery. “We need to find a way to connect the other victims to Chad Holmes. Have you come up with anything?”

  “I would have told you if I had. Nothing that I remember from the case files connects them directly. As it shows on paper anyhow.”

  “We know that Lindsay Parks took out cash every week at an ATM.” I started brainstorming out loud.

  “Okay Pending, point?”

  “It is a convenient location to stop before heading up Route 234 to the cabin.”

  “We know that already.” Paige crossed her arms.

  “What if Chad Holmes also had a side business? Maybe he offered his training services outside of the standard gym scene? He could pocket more money, make his own hours. Maybe that’s why he’s chronically late for his places of employment.”

  “Or he’s too busy abducting, raping, and murdering women,” Paige said.

  “Boss, he’s on a good line of thought with this. Let me see the guy’s resume.” Zachery extended a hand for the file I held. “I assume that’s what’s in there.”

  I nodded and handed it to him.

  “All right. Okay.” His eyes went down the resume.

  “Zach?” Paige asked.

  “Now we’re onto something. I recognize the name of these establishments.” Zachery let us hang there as he went across the room and pointed to the pictures of two women. “Both of these victims were members at two locations noted on his resume. We should call all the gyms that the missing women went to and confirm if Holmes ever worked for them.”

  Jack scowled. I hadn’t caught the fact the names were familiar, and, when I saw the pictures Zachery pointed to, these victims dated back a few years. We had been so focused on the more recent cases that their details had slipped my memory.

  My stomach tightened. I hated missing things. I hated incompetence as much as Jack couldn’t stand tardiness, but, to admit such an oversight, would mean admission of guilt. However, with Jack’s eyes on me, I had to say something.

  “We’ve been so focused on Poole and Rogers, and now Monica.”

  Paige, who used to come to my defense, smiled and tucked the expression into her shoulder.

  “Fine, I messed—”

  Jack’s cell rang, and I experienced the truth in the saying “saved by the bell.”

  Seconds later, he got off, and the fire in his eyes was electric. “Nadia’s working on Holmes’s financials, but a quick look didn’t show any businesses registered to him.”

  There was something Chad had said when we spoke to him at the house. I coaxed myself to remember. Chad had talked about how Keyes was suspicious of him after the disappearance. He said that he was really upset when Leslie went missing. “Let me see the file again.”

  Zachery handed it to me.

  Inside, Keyes had noted the start date for Holmes. It was only a few months before Leslie went missing. If he was our man, he must have become fixated quickly with her.

  “Holmes was a relatively new employee and part-time at that,” I said. “Why was he so upset when Leslie went missing? Why did he think that he was suspected by Keyes?”

  “Kid, what are you thinking?” Jack took a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket.

  “There’s something he said—at the house when we were talking to him—something that’s right there, on the tip of my—”

  My eyes enlarged and my heart pounded. I remembered. “He said that he was the best trainer. Why not just say the best instructor? That’s what he was at Fitness Guru and these other gyms. Nothing more. He could run a business off the books.”

  Jack and the rest of the team were already on the move. I hurried to catch up.

  Chapter 49

  “We’re go
ing in hot and fast. We don’t need this guy using Poole or Rice in a hostage negotiation.” Jack laid out the directions as to how we were to go about it once we arrived at Holmes’s residence. As normal, Jack and I would take the front, Paige and Zachery the rear.

  Jack continued. “The warrant should be signed, even if the ink is wet, by the time we bust down his front door.”

  Jack had referred to the women being used as hostages, but I’m sure we were all thinking the same thing—if they were still alive.

  Jack pulled the SUV to a stop on a side street, and we all slipped out. Holmes’s bungalow was dark, and all the curtains were drawn. There wasn’t a vehicle in the driveway.

  There was no response to our knocks or to the announcement that it was the FBI.

  Jack and I entered. We swept the front rooms of the house, the living room and offshoot bathroom. We reached the base of the stairs at the same time as Paige and Zachery did coming from the back door. Jack gestured that they go up. We headed to the kitchen. My mind was on the door that led to the basement.

  The thought of going underground brought back the one case I was certain would haunt me for my lifetime. I suppose this was all part of the job. We put our lives on the line to bring about justice and an end to the madness. An idealistic thought, but one I wanted to believe.

  The basement door closed, but turning the handle revealed it wasn’t locked. I nodded to Jack, and he acknowledged. I opened it, gun ready, and was met with darkness.

  Light from the kitchen seeped down the stairs and revealed a light switch on the right. I turned it on, my gun aimed to the base of the stairs and started going down.

  I was relieved to see the clearance on the stairwell was well over my six-foot height, and the width was comfortable. The walls didn’t feel like they were closing in on me. I took a deep breath, my mind transferring back to Kentucky, the underground burial chambers, the tight space, and the compression on my chest as it heaved to derive a full breath.

  I took the steps slowly, preparing my mind to handle what we might find when we reached the base. The women’s dead bodies could be down here, or they could be found constrained and stripped of their dignity. With each step, I went over what we already knew.