They Thought He was Safe

by P. D. Workman

  He checked his email and social media direct messages and put the phone down to continue to go through John’s papers again, looking for patterns and how the players he had met so far fit into the picture. He was getting a better feeling for the shape of Jose’s life. He stopped to text Philippe, again suggesting that they meet to discuss developments.

  He shuffled through the papers, reassembling them in a different order.

  His phone buzzed with a return text. Zachary picked it up.

  Meet me tonight to talk. I have something to tell you.

  Zachary started to compose a reply. His gaze strayed up to the top of the screen and he realized that the text had come from Dimitri, not Philippe.

  “Well, well…”

  What did Dimitri know? Had he only told Zachary half of the story when he’d thought him a curious friend? Did he know more, and wanted to share it now that he knew that Zachary and the police were trying to track down a serial killer? Things might have been different, now that he knew that Jose had not just hooked up with some other man, but was more than likely a victim of violence?

  He texted back to Dimitri to arrange the time and place for their meeting. He remembered Dimitri’s falsetto voice, his dramatic manner. Underneath that playfulness, he had real feelings for Jose. He wanted to know what had happened to his partner.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Z

  achary called Detective Dougan once he had things set up with Dimitri.

  “Goldman,” Dougan acknowledged when he picked up the phone. “What’s up?”

  “You asked if I could do anything to get Dimitri to talk to you.”

  “Yes.” Dougan’s voice was brusque, as if he had other, more important cases to deal with.

  “I called and texted him to encourage him to talk to you, and he texted me back. He wants to meet with me to tell me something about Jose’s case.”

  “He does. Did he say what?”

  “No. But I have a time and place set up, if you want to come along.”

  The was a silent pause. “Did you tell him I would be coming?”

  “No, I thought it would be easier to explain and convince him to tell you about it once we saw him in person.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. What are the details?”

  Zachary relayed them to him.

  “Alright. I’ll see you then. I’ll hang back to begin with, let him see you and get comfortable. Then I’ll move in and we’ll get him to spill what he knows.”

  “Okay.” Zachary’s heart was pounding faster as he thought about the meeting with Dimitri. It would be his job to keep Dimitri calm and on track so they could find out what he knew. It wouldn’t be easy to do; Dimitri was obviously a highly-excitable person.

  But it could be just the break they needed. If he could help break the serial killer case, it would be quite the feather in his cap. That would show the doubters.

  “Do you want us to come with you?” Pat asked as Zachary got ready to go to his meeting with Dimitri.

  “No, it’s fine. Dougan is going to meet me there. I don’t really want to show up with a whole crew for this meeting.”

  “He knows us, though. It wouldn’t be like we were all strangers ganging up on him. I just don’t like the idea of you meeting him alone at night.”

  “I won’t be alone. Couldn’t be much more safe than having a policeman along with me. You don’t need to worry about it.”

  Pat sighed, nodding. “I’m sorry… I’m all nerves. You’re very calm about the whole thing.”

  Zachary might have looked calm on the exterior, but inside he was just as on edge as Pat. His heart was going a mile a minute and his stomach was tied in knots. He didn’t know whether Dimitri would be the break in the case that they needed, or if it was just a ruse to see Zachary again. He did not look forward to Dougan finding out that it had all been a line, if Dimitri didn’t come up with anything.

  He made sure that all of his papers were put away properly. He left his nearly-full notepad and took a new one with him instead. He needed to be sure that all of his records were kept safe. He should have been taking pictures of his notepad to upload to the cloud so that he had a backup, but it was too late to worry about doing it before the meeting.

  He had one more cup of coffee and put on his jacket. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he told Mr. Peterson. “Don’t wait up. If Dougan ends up taking Dimitri in for questioning, I could be most of the night.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing you got in a good sleep last night,” Lorne said lightly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Zachary slowed and looked around. He had arrived early, wanting to be able to scope out the unfamiliar area before Dimitri arrived. He didn’t want to be taken off-guard by an ambush, however unlikely that might seem. Whoever was killing the men must be feeling the pressure of the investigation and the media attention. It wasn’t easy to work in the dark when a spotlight was being shone on you.

  The streets were deserted. It was a residential area with some light commercial development; strip malls, convenience stores, coffee shops, and schools. There might be a few people out walking their dogs, but after dinner things were pretty quiet in the neighborhood.

  Zachary drove in widening circles, looking for anything out of place. Why had Dimitri chosen the area? Was it his own neighborhood? Or maybe he worked close by? People didn’t choose places they were unfamiliar with for meetings.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Zachary pulled over and fished it out. On the screen was another message from Dimitri.

  Are you alone?

  Zachary hesitated, uneasy. Of course Dimitri expected him to be alone, but asking if he was implied that Dimitri had something to hide. Eventually, Zachary texted back confirmation that he was by himself.

  Good. You can’t trust that cop Dougan.

  Zachary stared down at the screen. Dougan? Dougan had done all of the appropriate things. He’d made inquiries into Jose’s disappearance, though he hadn’t done any more than he had to, glossing over with routine inquiries only. He had asked for John’s files in order to review the possibility of a serial killer, though he hadn’t yet opened a file on the serial killer or organized a task force. He had ordered the logs on Jose’s phone when Zachary provided it to him and cross-referenced Dimitri’s phone number. He hadn’t asked Zachary for anyone else’s numbers, but it was possible that he already had access to a database of all of the numbers he needed. He had even gone back to Philippe’s apartment when the young man had not answered his phone.

  Zachary shifted, his brain working through the possibilities. Remembering the cop in Russia. Seventy dead women. Seventy that he had admitted to and described, more that he had lost track of. A loving father and husband. A decorated cop. And one of the worst serial killers the world had ever known.

  Why can’t I trust Dougan?

  His text back went unanswered. Had that been enough to scare Dimitri off? Was he sure now that Zachary was in league with Dougan, sitting in the dark, waiting to ambush him when he showed up for the meeting?

  Zachary wasn’t sure where Dougan was. He had said that he would wait until Zachary had met with Dimitri before moving in. Zachary hadn’t seen him during his reconnaissance of the neighborhood, so as far as he knew, Dougan wasn’t there yet. But he could be sitting in a darkened car somewhere, watching Zachary drive by and waiting for Dimitri to make an appearance.

  Zachary waited, but there was no further text. It was still early for the meeting with Dimitri. Zachary put his phone back in his pocket and pulled the car out onto the street to continue familiarizing himself with the area. If Dimitri decided not to show, then he wouldn’t show. Zachary had to assume he would, and he’d be ready.

  There was a wooded area up ahead. Zachary squinted at it through the darkness. A park? It seemed like a strange place for one. He drove closer and saw a decorated archway leading into the park, the name of the park inlaid within the wrought iron frame: “Peaceful Retreat
Cemetery.”

  Zachary stared at it, making the connection to Honore Santiago. He was sure it was the name of Santiago’s cemetery. But why would Dimitri want to meet Zachary there?

  Chapter Thirty

  S

  antiago was one of Jose’s partners. So was Dimitri. They had to know each other, to know about each other. Were they somehow acting together? Were they involved with each other as well?

  He wanted to contact Dougan, to give him a heads-up that it might be an ambush. They might be dealing with two men rather than just one. There might be something going on that Zachary hadn’t yet been able to wrap his mind around.

  But the seeds of doubt that Dimitri had sown about Dougan were sprouting and twining around his brain and he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that the cop was clean. Dimitri could be right. He might be the one who held all of the answers, and he said that Dougan couldn’t be trusted.

  Zachary sat in the car, looking at the words in the arch over the entrance. Eventually, he had to satisfy himself that there was no one lurking in the cemetery, and he drove in.

  He turned his brights on, casting long, dark shadows of tombstones and trees over the smooth, even turf. He watched for any movement, fresh graves, equipment out of place, or anything else that might be suspicious. He saw movement through the trees and dimmed his lights. He drove the rest of the way around a loop in the other direction and drove out of the cemetery.

  If he were lucky, then whoever was in the cemetery would think that he was just someone who had made a wrong turn. He drove far enough away that anyone inside the cemetery would not be able to see the vehicle, parked it, and got out. He hesitated, weighing his options.

  He took out his phone and texted Dougan.

  Zachary walked back into the cemetery, slowly and as quietly as possible. He didn’t use his flashlight, but let his eyes adjust to the dark. He could hear the man before he could see him, the sound of heavy equipment.

  Looking through the trees, Zachary could see a small excavator at work. He probably didn’t need to be tiptoeing around with the racket the engine was making. He kept behind trees as much as possible as he approached, not wanting to attract attention with his movement.

  He couldn’t see the operator of the excavator. The headlights and the lights that would normally have been lighting up the cab had been turned off so that he had to rely on the moonlight for illumination. He could only vaguely see the shape in the operator’s seat, not well enough to discern if it was Santiago.

  He was pretty sure that gravediggers didn’t normally work at night, even if it were still early evening. If there were an interment in the morning, they would have been sure to get the work done earlier in the day. The man was working without lights for a reason. He didn’t want people calling in the unusual nighttime activity to the police.

  Thinking about the police, Zachary looked over his shoulder the way he had come, but still didn’t see anyone else. If Dougan were there, he was keeping carefully hidden, like Zachary.

  The excavator backed up and clattered to a stop. Zachary froze where he was and watched the figure climb out of the equipment. He had on a bulky coat so it was still impossible to make him out.

  The man walked away from the excavator and the hole he had been digging, his footsteps crunching through the gravel. Zachary watched him until he was out of sight and his footsteps were no longer audible.

  He crept closer. He decided he really didn’t like cemeteries in the dark. It was one thing during the day when the sun was shining and there were people around, but night was another thing altogether. There was good cover most of the way to the freshly-dug grave. Zachary looked around, checking for any sign of the shadowy figure, but he seemed to be alone.

  He stood there for a few more minutes, his own skin dimly illuminated by the moonlight. There wasn’t really anything to see. A rectangular hole in the ground. The excavator, its engine ticking as it cooled down. A tarp and some hand tools beside the grave; shovel and pick for finishing off the edges of the grave. He supposed that the man had gone to get the other equipment needed to stage the grave. The rails and strap system that Zachary had seen used at graveside ceremonies to hold the casket and then lower it into the grave when everything was done. Maybe it was just a worker who had not managed to get everything done that he was supposed to during the day. Maybe Zachary had jumped to conclusions, spooked by the idea of tracking a serial killer.

  He blinked a few times, focusing in on the smaller details of the gravesite. There was a headstone moved to the side, which suggested that the grave being dug was previously occupied. Zachary knew that sometimes a grave was used for a second body, perhaps a spouse. So it wasn’t that unusual. If somebody were disposing of a body illegally, then they surely would have picked a more isolated spot, not an existing grave that had been dug up again. A visitor might notice that and find it suspicious. Zachary stepped closer to have a peek at the tombstone.

  He knew he was stepping out from the cover of the trees, but he would hear anyone coming down the gravel path again, and no one would be able to see him unless they were past the break in the trees.

  It was too dark to see the name and dates on the stone. He didn’t know whether it was just the dark or whether the stone was older and worn, the letters blurred in the dim moonlight. His toe bumped against the tarp. Just a little nudge, not hard enough to dislodge it. He looked down at it, his brain registering the fact that it wasn’t just a rolled-up tarp, but had some heft to it. It hadn’t been weighted down with tools or rocks, but had something wrapped up inside. And of course he knew what it was going to be without looking.

  He bent down anyway and touched the tarp. It was cold to the touch as if it had been outside for a long time. It hadn’t just been pulled from a warm vehicle.

  The smell that Zachary detected wasn’t just the newly-turned earth from the grave. And it wasn’t whoever was in that grave, probably buried years before and contained in a sealed casket. The stink of decomposition so close to the tarp was almost overwhelming. Zachary felt for the edge of the tarp. It was rolled neatly, with the seam on the underside.

  He could wait. He could go back and hide in the trees and let the police deal with it when they arrived. He knew that was what he should do. But if Dougan were not on his way, or worse, if he were involved in the crime, then Zachary needed to find out everything he could before the return of the man trying to conceal the evidence. Breathing through his mouth instead of his nose, Zachary tried to get a purchase on the bundle to roll it over.

  His body protested, his muscles and his bruised ribs throbbing with the pain of the effort to roll the heavy burden over. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and heaved. He managed to roll it one hundred and eighty degrees, revealing the edge of the tarp so that he could begin the unwrapping process.

  Zachary had his winter gloves on already so, sure he wasn’t going to leave any evidence behind, he started to work the edge free and pull it up. It wasn’t a quick process. He didn’t want to destroy any evidence the killer might have left behind or to spread the already-nauseating smell. If he were on a detective show on TV, the reveal would have been almost instant, with the fictional private eye or cop pulling back a corner of the tarp, which would be directly over the victim’s face, to reveal his identity.

  The wind had picked up, rattling the now-loose half of the tarp noisily, making it whip into Zachary’s face. He was sure it wasn’t clean and didn’t want any fluids or pathogens, however microscopic, being sprayed into his face. He held his breath again, hoping that the next flip of the bundle would be the last.

  He pulled back the tarp again, finally freeing it from the dark shape that had pinned it down. Though his eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, he still couldn’t get a clear view of what was now undeniably a body, lying face down on the tarp.

  His brain worked through the different possibilities. Jose? Philippe? He knew it wasn’t John, who had been burned and was at the medical examiner’s of
fice or somewhere further along in his journey. He wore a suit. So probably not Philippe. Zachary swallowed hard and moved up to the head, holding his breath one more time and bending down to peer into the face of the badly-bloated corpse.

  It wasn’t Jose or Philippe.

  It was Dimitri.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Z

  achary jumped back, shocked.

  How could it be Dimitri? They had just been texting each other.

  He scrabbled for his phone, not sure what he was going to do with it when he pulled it out. Call Dougan again? Take a picture? Re-read the texts he had exchanged with Dimitri?

  He managed to work it out of his pants pocket before a heavy blow landed on the back of his head and neck, dropping him onto the corpse.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I

  t was another groggy awakening, and at first Zachary thought he was still asleep at Mr. Peterson’s house. His head throbbed. He needed another pain pill. It was dark, not light, so they had been wrong about him sleeping in. It was still night time. If he could force himself to move, he could take another pain pill, and maybe another sleeping pill, and go back to sleep until he was feeling better.

  But he wasn’t in Mr. Peterson’s house. Wherever he was, it was dark and cold. He wasn’t in a nice, soft bed. Zachary groaned and tried to move. He couldn’t remember everything that had happened, but it was like there was another self in the back of his brain, yelling at him that Dimitri was dead and Zachary was in danger. He couldn’t remember how he knew that, but it was the truth. He tried again to get up, fighting against the throbbing pain and vertigo. He couldn’t move his hands to get them beneath him.