Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5

by Heather Graham

  Lara dived in and swam to Adrianna’s side. The trainer seemed puzzled and said, “Talk to her. Try to get her back in.”

  Lara did her best. She spoke softly, she urged, she pleaded.

  Cocoa squealed back at her, but she didn’t come back in.

  “Try moving away,” Adrianna said at last.

  “All right, Cocoa. I’ve got to go,” Lara said, swimming away.

  At last the dolphin responded, making a huge leap and sending crystal droplets of water flying everywhere.

  She raced past under the surface and emerged in front of Lara, who gave her a fin rub and thanked her. When they returned to the dock, Adrianna followed and gave Lara several fish to feed her, and then a few to feed Destiny, who came over to see what was going on.

  “Okay, I have to leave now,” Lara said as she gave Cocoa a last stroke and a last fish. Cocoa still seemed on edge, and she squealed and did another fluke walk. “I’ll come back soon,” Lara promised.

  “I hope she’ll be all right,” Adrianna said. “I have to tell Rick about this.”

  “If I can help, let me know,” Lara said.

  “You know we will,” Adrianna said.

  Lara went to join Meg by the lockers at that point. As they headed back to the office and the showers, Meg said, “I was watching, and I’m sure as hell no expert, but it looked to me as though that dolphin wanted you to follow her.”

  “Maybe she wants another outing. I think she had fun the day we went out to look for—The day we went out with the Coast Guard. And found Miguel’s head,” she added. Not saying it didn’t change what happened.

  “Can’t she jump that fence any time she wants to? Can’t any of them?” Meg asked. “If they want to go exploring, I mean.”

  Lara stopped and looked at Meg. She knew what her friend was thinking. “You think that whoever made a zombie out of Randy Nicholson has really killed him now, and cut him up and dumped him in the bay.”

  “I think it’s quite possible,” Meg said. “I’ll mention it to Matt. Or to Brett and Diego, since they’re the leads on this. I’m just used to going to Matt first, since I’m working with him.”

  Lara smiled. “And living with him.”

  Meg smiled back. “Trust me, it’s pretty great living and working together. Not everyone could, but for us, it works.” She was quiet for a moment. “He’s still a little in awe of us, though.”

  “Matt? Why?”

  “The way our minds work in sync,” Meg said. “Even at a distance. When you were kidnapped and needed my help, I knew it. Not many people have that kind of ability.”

  Lara laughed. “I think more people believe in ESP than in ghosts, but maybe all that kind of stuff is related somehow. Who knows?”

  Meg grew serious. “Not me, but I do know that when it comes to this case, someone knows what he’s doing, playing with the greatest computer ever, the human brain.” She paused for a moment. “That’s what the Krewe does, in a way. We push the boundaries, too, looking past this world and into the next, so to speak, even seeking help from the dead. It’s a little less extreme to think that a dolphin might help, right?”

  Lara looked at her friend and nodded. “Can you imagine the headline? ‘Dolphin Saves Miami from Zombie Attacks.’”

  “Maybe it’s not so far-fetched,” Meg told her. “Speaking of which, I wonder how the guys are doing on finding Antoine Deveau’s body.”

  * * *

  Brett loved computers. You could find almost anything somewhere on the internet, and the Bureau had hundreds of employees nationwide who were the most talented geeks in the world. If the information had been recorded, the Bureau’s geeks could find it.

  And in this case, all they had to do was hunt down the day the body had been found, find the autopsy report and then look up where the body had been buried.

  The geeks in the Krewe’s Virginia office were handling the search. Once Adam Harrison had been called in to help get the ball rolling on Pierre’s application for legal residency for his family and entrance into the Witness Protection Program, he’d put all his resources at their disposal, geeks included. That left Brett, Diego and Matt to work with Pierre himself while his family and friends remained in the safe house, heavily guarded.

  Pierre had already worked with a sketch artist. The problem was that Boss Man seemed to have different color eyes each time Pierre saw him. Mostly he had a mustache and a beard, but not always, and they weren’t always shaved in the same style. He usually wore glasses, too, but not always the same frames.

  Even so, staring at the sketch, Brett told Diego and Matt that the drawing resembled the man who had accompanied Anthony Barillo to his house.

  “We can bring him in,” Diego offered.

  Brett shook his head. The resemblance could just as easily be a coincidence. “I can’t say it was him with Barillo. And if we bring him in before we’re sure, before we have evidence, we could blow the whole case.”

  “We can keep him in mind, at least, in case we find some hard evidence, then move on him,” Diego said. “Unfortunately, an empty grave isn’t evidence.”

  “Let’s start by hoping the records will direct us to the right potter’s grave,” Brett said.

  “It’s a plan,” Matt agreed. “And if not, we’ll keep digging till we find the right one.”

  Brett grinned; he liked the man. He was always willing to go the extra mile.

  Brett knew they wouldn’t find Antoine in the grave where Pierre had seen him buried, but the killer might be “storing” other bodies there, and there was always the possibility of catching him in the act.

  They visited every cemetery within an hour’s drive of Pierre’s apartment, just in case he’d been mistaken about the length of the drive, but he didn’t recognize any of them. Frustrated, Brett went online himself and tried historical cemeteries, which brought up several they had already seen but also some new possibilities. On the third page of listings he found a blog dedicated to an old cemetery down in Florida City, close to the Everglades and the gateway to the Florida Keys.

  It was a small place, mostly reclaimed by nature, just on the edge of the national park. The road to it clearly hadn’t been repaved in years. But when Brett started driving down it, Pierre suddenly perked up.

  “Mais oui!” he cried. “I remember this—bouncing before we reached the graveyard.”

  The gravestones were scattered, some still standing, others tipped over, even broken. A few were military issue from World War I, a few more from World War II, and they even found a small stone marker that showed the deceased had fought in the Civil War.

  “I hadn’t realized there were that many people living around here that long ago,” Matt said.

  “There was a military base on the Miami River years before anything approaching a city existed down here,” Brett explained. “They were down here fighting the Seminole wars, which raged for years and years. Sherman got his start down here. Zachary Taylor fought down here, too. Miami itself was incorporated in 1896.”

  Matt laughed. “I doubt this place is in Miami.”

  “No, but it is in Miami-Dade County,” Brett said, looking around. They were surrounded by high grasses and, except for the little hummock that held the cemetery, the land here was marsh. The Everglades themselves were much the same. The “river of grass” was a mix of marsh and river and hummock, and it was often difficult to know where one ended and another began. It was much the same here, but on a smaller scale, a place being overtaken by nature, the heat of the day broken by a cool breeze moving through. He could hear the forlorn calls of different birds. To the east, buzzards were circling, and he imagined that they had probably homed in on roadkill somewhere on US1.

  Pierre wasn’t paying any attention to the agents. He was moving through the thickly overgrown gravestones, head down, searc
hing.

  Suddenly he stopped dead. Brett tensed, nearly drawing his Glock. Then he realized that Pierre had stopped because an adolescent alligator was sunning himself on a large concrete-slab marker.

  “Leave him alone,” Brett said. “He’ll leave you alone.”

  Pierre nodded and pointed. “There. I remember that tree. They buried my brother beneath it.”

  Diego groaned suddenly, looking at Brett. “I’m digging, right?”

  “I’m not even sure who we call to get the proper permits to work here,” Brett said. He knew, of course, that he should call someone. He was talking about digging up a graveyard after all.

  But he didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want permits and word getting out and a big show.

  “Hey, I’m digging, too.”

  “There are three of us, and the ground will be soft,” Matt said.

  Diego shook his head and started walking to the car. “I know you,” he told Brett. “The shovels are in the car, right?”

  Brett grinned and nodded. “It pays to be prepared.”

  * * *

  That night, Brett, Matt and Diego traipsed into Lara’s duplex covered in mud that they’d tried to remove, though without much success.

  Matt and Diego took turns showering in the guest bathroom, Diego first, while Brett used the shower in Lara’s bathroom. He’d suggested that he and Diego could go home to clean up, then come back to discuss their day. Lara had been about to insist that was ridiculous, but Meg had beaten her to it, saying that she was anxious to share information and didn’t want to waste time. She’d pointed out that pizza and lasagna were already on the way, and that they could borrow clean clothes from Matt. That had turned out to be unnecessary, since both men kept a change of clothes in the car.

  Lara went upstairs to her room to leave a clean towel for Brett. She knocked, and when she didn’t get an answer she went in to leave it on the bed, only to discover that apparently he’d found one on his own.

  He was coming out of the bathroom in his jeans, his chest bare, drying his hair. She tried not to stare at that broad expanse of tanned flesh, feeling a rare moment of sympathy for “breast men,” the ones who couldn’t quite raise their gaze to meet a woman’s eyes.

  She forced herself to focus on his face, more than a little alarmed by the trembling she felt. She couldn’t help being suddenly plagued by the realization that it had been forever—it didn’t just seem like it, it was—since she’d been in a relationship, even a casual one. She had been so focused on her career that she’d hardly even noticed a man in a sexual way.

  And now…

  She wasn’t desperate, she assured herself. Brett Cody was damn close to perfect.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, feeling herself blush. “I was just…” She held up the towel in his direction.

  “Thanks. I’ll be down in a few. It’s been a productive day. We’ve located the grave we believe belongs to Pierre’s brother, Antoine, and we have the paperwork to exhume him tomorrow,” he said. “It will really help Kinny to have a second victim. Makes me wonder how many others might have died. How many experiments there might have been.”

  She tried to pull her mind back from the place where it had gone. But he made that impossible as he moved closer to her, smiling and taking the towel.

  “I guess I used your towel. My apologies.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak. His sleek, still slightly damp chest was mere inches away.

  She was in very sad shape, she thought.

  “We had an interesting day, too,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  She backed away. She’d come on to him pretty strong the night before and he had walked away. She had to be careful here, keep herself under control.

  “Yeah, I’ll… I should wait and tell everyone all at once. I’d better get back downstairs. I think I heard a call from the gate. Meg’s probably brought in the food, and Diego’s probably done showering, maybe Matt, too…”

  She was babbling. She was a media expert. She never babbled.

  “See you downstairs,” she finished in a rush.

  She stared at him for another few seconds before she actually left. He was towel drying his hair, looking like anything but a tough-as-nails FBI. He looked like a male model.

  She turned and hurried down the stairs, almost crashing into Meg and Diego, who were heading to the family room with the food. “I’ll get plates,” she said.

  “Got more paper?” Meg asked.

  “We’ll use the real ones. I hate paper in my lasagna.”

  Brett and Matt appeared simultaneously a few minutes later.

  Brett was wearing a T-shirt featuring a band called Bastille. Lara loved the group and imagined he did, too. He had the T-shirt after all. She lowered her head, smiling, wondering what he was like at a concert. When she’d first met him, she would never have imagined that he ever listened to live music.

  “About time you got down here. I’m famished,” Diego said when the other men appeared. He looked at Meg and shook his head. “Brett never seems to care about eating, and you know as well as I do that regular meals are a job requirement.”

  As soon as they’d all filled their plates, they started talking about the day. The men began by talking about their trip to the historic cemetery.

  “So…all that digging and you found nothing,” Meg said, passing the lasagna around for seconds. “I mean, I know you didn’t expect to find Antoine’s body, but I hoped maybe there’d be evidence, a clue of some kind.”

  “No, nothing,” Brett said.

  “Are you sure you were in the right place? A cemetery like that, in the middle of nowhere, how would Boss Man or anyone else even know it existed?”

  “The gators seem to know it okay,” Matt said, reaching for a dinner roll. “We saw several.”

  “I don’t know how Boss Man knew, but he did, and Pierre confirmed it was the right place,” Diego said.

  “We found the gravesite. It was pretty obvious where the dirt had been dug up. But not only was the body gone, the coffin was, too. So…no prints, no scraps of fabric or strands of hair that might have gotten caught on it,” Matt said.

  “I want to get back out there and look around some more,” Brett said. “I think it might actually be a body dump for more of our forgotten citizens, and maybe for more of Boss Man’s experiments. We’ll bring dogs—maybe ground-penetrating radar—and see what we can find. But first, tomorrow we’re going to look for the body of Pierre’s brother where it was buried after his second—and final—death.” He turned to Lara. “You said you and Meg had an interesting day, too. What happened?”

  “I had my first dolphin swim,” Meg said. “And when it was over, Cocoa behaved very strangely.”

  Brett smiled at Lara. “She didn’t throw you over for Meg, did she?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Lara said. “She went over the fence.”

  “She wanted to escape?” Diego asked.

  “No, I think she wanted Lara to follow her,” Meg said. She hesitated, glancing at Lara, then addressing Brett. “She went out with you guys and Lara and Diego, and she found what you were looking for. I think she knows there’s more out there—and she may even know where.”

  “How could a dolphin know—” Diego began.

  “You had her looking for human remains before,” Meg said. “Dolphins are smart. If you rewarded her for finding body parts once and she knows more are out there—if she can smell them or whatever—why wouldn’t she think you’d reward her again for finding them?”

  “We could go out,” Brett said, and looked at Lara. “If you’re willing.”

  Was she willing? She didn’t know. She would never forget the discovery of Miguel Gomez’s head.

  Or the other pieces of him, for that matter.
>
  But, she realized, she was never going to feel right until they found out what was going on. She frowned, thinking about lunch the other day, and seeing Dr. Amory with Ely Taggerly, Grant Blackwood and Mason Martinez. She’d been instantly suspicious.

  And she would look at everyone, view any innocent meeting or association, with that same suspicion if this wasn’t solved.

  “I’m fine with going out again,” she said. “You’ll need to speak with Grady and Rick first, though. Rick will know what to do if it turns out that’s not what Cocoa wants.”

  “Great. I’ll do that. I have no idea if we’ll find a body at all, and even if we do, there’s no guarantee it will be Randy Nicholson’s.”

  “If you find anyone who had the same drug in him, won’t that help tell you what you need to know, even if you never find Randy’s?” Lara asked.

  “We need every piece of evidence we can find,” Brett said. “And then,” he added grimly, “we need to put all the pieces together and find out whose money is behind these murders.”

  “Money?” Lara asked.

  Brett nodded. “It takes money to pull off something like this. Despite Anthony Barillo making such an effort to tell me he’s not guilty, he’s got the bucks—and the muscle—to make things happen. Money to hire thugs. Money to create the drug they’re using. Money to hold funerals and steal bodies.”

  “Why do any of it, though?” Lara asked. “Even if he creates a whole army of zombies, what does he think he’ll do with it? And the victims so far were no threat to anyone. So…why?”

  “Knowing why would help a hell of a lot,” Diego said. “But knowing how will help, too. I keep hoping that Dr. Kinny will come up with something. That’s why it’s so important that we find the bodies.”

  “Here’s something that may or may not mean anything,” Lara said. “Talking to Sonia Larson today, we found out that she sees Dr. Treme. The same Dr. Treme who signed Randy Nicholson’s death certificate.”

  “He is one of the most highly regarded cardiologists in the area,” Diego said.

  “So maybe it’s nothing,” Lara said. “Just a coincidence.”