Grave Deceit

by John J. Hunter

  CHAPTER 1

  The car was traced to a man named Chris Murray. A background check revealed that he was scheduled to start his prison sentence in a few days. Alice found it odd that he committed suicide just when he was supposed to go to jail, especially since he was not suffering from depression.

  Tyler knocked on her door early in the morning. Alice swung open the door and quickly stepped outside. She was careful not to make any noise. She shared her motel room with Naomi who lay fast asleep under the covers as she crept outside.

  "Naomi's asleep," she explained to Tyler.

  Naomi had been acting rather aloof lately. Tyler remembered that she was extremely quiet last night while the rest of them shared their ideas on the bizarre events they encountered the day before.

  "Naomi, could you go to the morgue and have a look at the remains found in the car?"

  Adrian's question had snapped her out of her reverie. She had folded her arms across her chest and pinched her lips. "I don't have time. I have to attend to some other things," she replied, stiffly.

  "Come on, Naomi. What's the point of staying here if you can't help?" Tyler could hear a hint of annoyance in Adrian's voice.

  She gave him a steely smile. "I'm just here for moral support."

  “Let’s go,” said Alice, pulling him back to the present.

  They walked across the loggia and down the stairs. The rising sun cast a soft pink glow on the clouds above. A silver Toyota Camry waited for them in the parking lot.

  “I figured I’d ask the Bureau to assign us a new car while we’re here,” Tyler explained as he took out the keys from his pocket. “Thought it would be highly inconvenient if the Corvette broke down in the middle of a chase and we had to push-start.” He grinned.

  “Good decision.” Alice smiled as she got in the passenger seat beside him.

  The car thrummed to a start. Tyler eased it out of the parking lot and onto the road. He gunned the engine and sped away from the motel. They were heading to Chris Murray’s residence. The rescue teams had discovered a few more objects in the debris that were taken into police custody as evidence. Tyler thought they could have a look at those later after they had gone through the belongings in the house.

  "Any leads on your grandfather's missing corpse?" Alice asked.

  Tyler's jaw clenched and he shook his head.

  Alice eyed his hard expression. "Were you and your grandfather close?"

  He nodded. Loss and sorrow flickered in his eyes. "I remember playing baseball with him. He had this optimistic outlook on life. Nothing could dampen his spirits."

  His expression softened as he spoke about his grandfather and Alice could tell he loved him. "I never knew my grandparents. I imagine it must be nice to have one."

  "I just wish I could have been there for him, you know." Longing and regret swallowed him the more he thought about his grandfather and the days leading up to his death. “His health began deteriorating last year. The doctor advised some tests and it was soon discovered that he was suffering from cancer.”

  His voice was laden with emotion. Alice waited for him to finish.

  “I kept making plans to visit him but those plans would fall through. I’d get assigned to an important case and I’d delay my visit, thinking I’d go see him as soon as I was done with my assignment.” He fell quiet for a long moment.

  “He died six months ago; alone at the hospital with no one from his family with him,” he said, his voice trembling. "My great grandmother's still alive, but he's gone. Seems like some kind of macabre joke sometimes."

  “I’m sure he knew you loved him,” Alice said, quietly.

  His eyes glistened with tears but he forced a smile. “Nah, he probably thought I was a selfish little bastard,” he said with a shrug. “He would have said that to my face if he were alive right now. He was like that: brutally honest.”

  Alice smiled. It was heartwarming to learn about the bond Tyler shared with his late grandfather.

  She stared out of the open window at the tall pine trees whizzing past. The wind whipped through her hair and for a moment she let go of the thoughts swirling in her mind and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunshine on her face.

  Tyler thought about bringing up the connection they shared. He glanced at Alice and saw the serene smile on her face. Once again he held himself back from telling her the truth.

  What good would it do except open up old wounds? He stared dead ahead making up his mind to keep their strange connection a secret.

  They turned a corner and drove into a deserted area. Rows of abandoned houses, and decrepit apartment buildings passed by them. Tyler pulled up in front of a ranch-style home. The front yard was covered with dead grass, weeds, and wild shrubs.

  "Is this it?" Alice asked, looking at the house suspiciously. "Looks like no one's lived here for ages."

  Tyler checked his phone and nodded.

  Alice opened the door and stepped out. She looked to her side and noticed a small boy playing with a stray tire down the block. She turned around and stared up at the mammoth buildings with broken windows and glimpsed someone looking at them from behind the broken glass.

  "Vagabonds," Tyler answered her unspoken question.

  Alice had an eerie feeling about the place. She looked at the unkempt front yard and suddenly had doubts about going inside.

  "Maybe you should do a double check," she said, turning to Tyler. "There could have been a mistake."

  "I'm pretty sure this is the one," Tyler replied. He couldn't understand what was making her so nervous.

  They walked up to the porch. Tyler removed broken branches and rubbish lying in his path as he made his way to the door. A thick layer of dust had settled in the windows. Tyler peered inside but could not see anything.

  He tried the door handle and found it locked. Alice stepped back as he kicked the door until it swung open, her hand instinctively went to the gun that she was carrying. She pulled it out, holding it up at eye level, and walked into the house behind Tyler.

  The floorboards creaked as they crept inside. Tyler drew his weapon and held it out before him as he walked across the foyer. Cobwebs had formed in the corners of the walls and thick white dust covered the floor. The furniture in the living room was shrouded in a white sheet.

  They searched the house to make sure no one was there. They placed their weapons back in their holsters once they knew they were alone.

  Alice walked slowly through the living room. She was right about one thing: the house had been lying deserted for a long while. She glanced at Tyler and wondered why he remained adamant that he had the right address.

  Tyler was busy inspecting the bedroom. He opened the closet and peeped inside. Dusty coats lay hanging on the rail. The clothes gave off a strong moldy smell that told him they hadn't been worn in a long time.

  Alice slunk into a small room across the foyer. A desk crammed into a corner, with an old typewriter on top, told her that the room must have been used as an office. Her eyes darted all over the place, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  She stepped closer to the desk and pulled open the drawer. She shuffled through the papers and found a photograph encased in a bronze frame. An old man with thinning hair and a crooked nose grinned at the camera, his arm wrapped around a beautiful blonde woman.

  A loud shattering noise made her jump. The photograph slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, cracking the glass frame.

  Alice drew her weapon and dashed to the bedroom. She pushed open the door and discovered Tyler standing next to a broken vase on the floor, wearing a sheepish grin on his face.

  "I — I didn't see it lying there," he said, apologetically.

  Alice let out a sigh of relief as she holstered her gun. "I don't think Mr. Murray would mind." By the looks of it, Chris Murray had not cared to visit the house for the past many decades.

  Tyler swept the shards into a pile with his shoe. "Did you find anything interesting?"

 
; "Just a picture of our suspect and his lady love," she replied with a shrug.

  "We should take it in as evidence."

  "If you think so," she said, turning around and walking out of the bedroom.

  She was disappointed with their visit; they had scoured the entire house and they were still nowhere close to knowing who Chris Murray was. Frustration seeped through her as they got in the car to leave.

  Tyler had dumped the photograph she found in the office, along with a few random objects from the house, into a cardboard box in the backseat.

  "Let's head to the station and have a look at the evidence collected from the crime scene," Tyler suggested.

  Alice nodded, conceding to his plan. "Let's go to the morgue afterward to have a look at the corpse," she said, snapping her seatbelt in place.

  Naomi had flat out refused to look at the dead body or examine the crime scene; as far as she was concerned, she was off duty.

  “I’m not sure if that would do any good,” said Tyler as he started the engine and pulled the car out of the parking lot. “There wasn’t much left to examine.” The fire had destroyed the body, leaving behind only a few bones.

  They drove to the local police station. Sergeant Bill Whitfield greeted them with a warm smile as they walked in through the entrance. “Life has gotten pretty interesting ever since the two of you arrived,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Have you considered moving?”

  "We haven't discussed it so far," Tyler replied. "Alice is more of a beach town girl; I don't think she'd be able to adjust." He nodded at Alice, grinning mischievously.

  Alice responded with a scowl.

  "Oh, bummer," said the Sergeant, clearly missing Tyler's oblique remark on her pale skin. "Well, let's make the most of the time we have." He pivoted and began marching inside.

  Photographs of the crime scene hung on a board in his office with thumbtacks. Plastic Ziplock bags marked with neat labels and containing evidence taken in from the scene lay on his desk in a row.

  Alice stopped in front of the board to look at the photographs. She saw the broken, charred pieces of bones and realized Tyler was right, there wasn't much of a body left to examine. She wondered whether they could extract DNA from what was left of the corpse.

  "Did you know Chris Murray?" she asked, turning around.

  "Not very well. I might have seen him in church a few times," Bill replied. His face clouded over as he remembered Father Thomas. "Speaking of the church, I'd like to thank you on behalf of the entire town for apprehending that vile beast." He let out an exasperated breath. "To think that I took him for a devout innocent priest!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Don't be so hard on yourself," said Alice with a sympathetic smile. "Such people are good at deceiving others."

  He nodded glumly. "Anyway," he said, brushing aside the remorse he felt for not catching the priest sooner, "you asked about Chris Murray. He wasn't around much for me to get to know him. He was a bit of a . . . wanderer. One day he was in Needles, the next day he'd pack his bags and leave for God knows where."

  "What about his prison sentence?"

  Sergeant Whitfield thought for a long moment. "I think he got into a fistfight at the local bar. He beat up some guy real bad; the victim blacked out and lost a lot of blood."

  “The guy sounds like trouble,” said Tyler.

  “It was a one-time thing,” the Sergeant replied. “But it was bad enough to land him in jail.”

  Alice moved toward the desk. She examined the items lying before her; mangled car keys, a half-burnt wallet, and a watch. She picked up the watch, looking it over in her hand.

  “Looks expensive,” she said.

  “I believe it’s a Rolex,” said Sergeant Whitfield.

  She turned it over and found an inscription on the back. Beside her, Tyler and Sergeant Whitfield discussed the peculiarities of the case. She narrowed her gaze; the elegant cursive script was hard to read since the fire had distorted the metal.

  Her face blanched with shock and her head reeled as she read the message etched in the metal. Her surroundings blurred and she could no longer make sense of Tyler and Sergeant Whitfield's voices.

  “Alice? Are you okay?” Tyler asked.

  She stood stunned.

  Tyler placed a hand on her shoulder to shake her awake as Sergeant Whitfield looked on, concerned. “Alice!”

  She startled awake and gave him a look of utter bewilderment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she gave a curt reply and brushed his hand away.

  Tyler could tell something was wrong with her but chose not to press further. He turned to Sergeant Whitfield and began telling him about the evidence they had found at Murray’s house. Alice crossed her hands over her chest and slunk away into a corner, silently.

  They concluded their meeting with Police Sergeant Whitfield and headed back to the car. Tyler glanced her way; her emotionless expression gave him no clue of what was going on in her head.

  He knew about her tendency to clamp up and go inside a shell, shutting out everyone when things got too intense for her to handle. It was frustrating at times because she’d leave him wondering if it was something he had done that made her act so cold toward him. He let out a sigh as he revved the car to a start, knowing fully well that there was nothing that he could do to make her open up to him. He had to let her be. When she had sorted out her feelings she would return to her normal self.

  The ride back to the motel was extremely quiet. Alice kept her face turned toward the window as she watched the drizzle outside.

  She said a hasty goodbye as Tyler pulled up outside the motel and jumped out of the car, bounding up the stairs and into her room. Naomi was not there. Alice saw her suitcase lying open at the foot of her bed, the clothes strewn on the floor, and guessed that she had gone out.

  She glanced at the clock; it was late in the evening. She shrugged out of her jacket and flung it on the bed then flopped on the mattress and began untying her shoelaces, wondering if Naomi was with Adrian.

  She had grown protective of Naomi after rescuing her from a frightening episode last summer. The untidy pile of clothes on the floor struck her as odd; Naomi was obsessed with keeping her things in order. Maybe she was in a hurry, she thought to herself with a shrug.

  She took off the hair tie holding her limp hair in a ponytail and gave her flaming red hair a shake. It had been a stressful day in more ways than one. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths; she had to calm herself before the next step.

  Her eyes flashed with a strange mixture of fear and fury when she opened them. Taking her cellphone out of her pocket, she bent over her knees preparing herself once more. She held her phone before her and opened the picture gallery.

  She had managed to snap a picture of the engraving on the back of the watch when Tyler and Sergeant Whitfield were not looking. She knew she needed to look at it again when she was in a calm state of mind.

  Her heartbeat quickened as she clicked open the photograph. She had her doubts after she found the necklace and the picture she found in Murray’s house had not rung a bell, but the inscription on the watch was all the evidence she needed. Her insides twisted into a painful knot and she feared that she might throw up as she read the message again.

  From Rita, with love.

  Her mother’s tinkling laughter echoed in her ears. She looked up and found herself transported into the past. Rita Sloan, a celebrated FBI agent at the height of her career, stood in her tastefully decorated living room with a glowing smile on her face. Her carefully blow-dried red hair had a luscious sheen. Her green eyes sparkled as she turned to the tall handsome man behind her.

  She handed him a small present tied with a red ribbon. “Something special for your birthday, love.”

  Burly hands took the present from her delicate manicured fingers and began ripping open the wrapping. “It’s wonderful,” he exclaimed as he had a look inside the box. His
muscular frame shifted to the side and Alice caught the light glinting off the silver watch.

  “Have a look at the back,” said Rita, smiling. She was pleased that he liked her gift.

  The man read the inscription in his deep voice. “Thank you so much, my love,” he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her on the lips.

  She giggled when he let go. Finally she turned and looked Alice straight in the eyes. “Oh, darling, get up from the stairs and come here, why don’t you?”

  A strong hand appeared around her mother’s shoulder. Alice looked up at her stepfather, his gray eyes twinkling with malice. “Yes, dear. Why don’t you join us?” he asked, placing his hand close to her mother’s neck and grinning ominously.

  The living room dissolved before her and she found herself staring at the floral wallpaper of her motel room. She felt a cool sensation on her cheeks and touched her face. Her fingers came back wet. The tears streaming down her face came as a surprise.

  The necklace lying over the dresser caught her attention. A numbing terror coursed through her body. The face of the man she saw in the photograph at the house earlier, flashed before her eyes.

  This time she looked past the crooked nose, balding head, and wrinkly sagging skin, focusing instead on the eyes — gray like the rainy sky and filled with ruthlessness.

  A lump formed in her throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks. All these years she had found peace knowing that he was gone and could no longer hurt her. The truth resonated within her as she stared at the silver coiled snake: he was alive. She knew it in her gut but had no way to prove it. Helplessness crept through her. She felt small and weak like a child. No one would believe me.

  She imagined the incredulous look on Tyler's face if she told him. He would shake his head and laugh at her ridiculous theory. After all, they had discovered a body in the car that Murray owned.

  Her brain buzzed with a million thoughts as she conjured up scenarios in her imagination and guessed the arguments others would put forth to dismiss her belief. Her shoulders slumped and she let out a defeated sigh.

  It took her a long moment to collect herself. Finally, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, her face contorted with furious determination.