Shadows from the Grave

by Haddix, T. L.

  “Hannah couldn’t make it tonight,” Jason said as they sat down around the table. “She asked me to tell everyone ‘hi,’ though.”

  “Hi, back,” Beth said. “Did Joely and the folks get on the road okay this morning, Annie?”

  “As far as I know,” she answered. “They left about ten, and things seemed pretty normal to me.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe they were normal for Mom, Dad, and the kid, but I got a phone call this afternoon from Ethel,” Chase added.

  Beth and Jason both shot him a sympathetic look. “What did she want?” Jason asked.

  Chase shrugged. “Not much. Just some attention, some great-grandchildren, the usual. Oh, and Beth, she wanted to know if she could borrow Ethan for the weekend. I think she’s feeling lonely now that J.R.’s gone.”

  Ethan, who had just taken a large sip of his tea, choked. He turned away, coughing and sputtering, as the three Hudson children rolled with laughter.

  Gordon and Stacy exchanged a confused look, so Annie explained, “Apparently, their grandmother thinks Beth should have married some stuffy accountant or something, and kept Ethan as a lover.”

  “The hell she said that,” Ethan said when he was finally able to respond. “Not the part about Beth, but about borrowing me this weekend,” he clarified.

  “You know, I thought my family was strange until I started hearing about Ethel,” Gordon said. “She puts my mother to shame.”

  “We’ll let you adopt her, if you want. She’d probably think you’d make an ideal lover, too,” Beth said in an offhand manner. When there was utter silence at the table, she looked up to find everyone looking nervously between her and Ethan. “What?”

  Ethan’s eyebrows had drawn together in a frown. “You might want to expand on that remark a little.”

  “Um, okay… Which remark? Adopting Ethel?” They all watched as what she had said dawned on her, and her eyes grew huge. “Oh, my God. I didn’t mean it like that!”

  “Then how did you mean it, exactly?” Ethan asked, his arms crossed. Chase couldn’t tell if he was truly angry or just pulling Beth’s leg. He looked across the table at Gordon, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was.

  “I meant… he’s just…” she sputtered. “He’s dark and tall, and a little exotic-looking. You’re both alpha males. Apparently, that’s her type. No offense, Gordon.” She kept her eyes on Ethan, who was tapping his fingers against his arm.

  Gordon waved a hand. “None taken. But if I’m going to get the crap beaten out of me, can I finish dinner first? It was a long day.”

  Ethan sighed, and Chase saw his brother-in-law’s lips twitch briefly before he controlled them again. “Even guys like you and me deserve a last meal, I suppose,” he said. He picked up his fork and pointed it at Beth. “You, I’ll deal with later.”

  “Yes, dear,” Beth responded meekly, a smile of her own playing around her lips. The tension at the table evaporated, and everyone resumed their meals.

  “So, not to be nosy, which this is, but what’s the deal with your grandmother?” Stacy asked. “Why doesn’t she like Ethan?”

  “It’s not just Ethan,” Jason said. “She’s never approved of Mom, either. Thinks the Olman blood is beneath the Hudson’s.”

  “Yeah, when Mom and Dad got married, and Dad decided to stay in medical school instead of going to law school, Ethel and J.R. basically cut him off,” Chase said. “If it hadn’t been for Grandpa and Grandma, he probably wouldn’t have been able to finish school.”

  “I’ve never understood that,” Ethan said. “Why she thinks Jackie’s so far beneath her. Even after seeing the family dynamics from the inside, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  Chase watched out of the corner of his eye as Annie seemed to draw into herself, and he sighed. He knew her being illegitimate bothered her, even if most of the rest of the world didn’t care. More than once over the past few months, she’d made disparaging comments here and there that convinced him the confident face she presented to the world was just a façade. He caught Beth’s eye and realized his sister had seen what he had.

  “Ethel’s biggest problem is that she buys into the whole ‘aristocratic lineage’ crap that her mother always spouted off, apparently,” Beth explained. “But you know what Chase has dug up?”

  “You had a pirate in the family tree?” Gordon asked, smiling.

  “Even better.” Chase laughed. “We had two horse thieves, one of whom was hanged for such, a great-grandmother of ill-repute who married one of the horse thieves and ran off with the other after the first one’s death, and we come from the worst of the worst clans that were run out of Ireland on a rail. And that’s just the Chase side. Ethel swears I made it all up, but it’s true. We’re no more blue bloods than any mongrel pup.”

  “Oh, and Ethel’s named after the fallen woman,” Jason chimed in. “How’s that for irony?”

  Gordon raised his glass. “I knew there was a reason I liked you people,” he said. “You make me feel like I fit right in the mix.” Glasses were raised all around the table in a toast.

  “I don’t know how ironic it is, really—that Ethel’s named after the harlot,” Ethan said. “Considering she advised her grandchildren to marry and take lovers afterward. Sounds rather fitting to me, actually.”

  “Did you just call our grandmother a harlot, Ethan?” Chase asked, surprised.

  Ethan thought about it. “Yes, I suppose I did. I guess I should apologize for that.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t advise saying it outside this room or this group of people,” Jason said, “but considering what she said about you the other day, I think we can let it slide for now.” He changed the subject. “What’s going on with this letter I’ve heard about?”

  Stretching, Chase sat back in his chair. “That’s a good question. Gordon? Any word yet?”

  “Nothing good,” Gordon responded. “There weren’t any fingerprints on it that didn’t fit. As a matter of fact, the technician who examined the card and letter said that the paper had been rubbed down, as best she could tell. There wasn’t any DNA on the glued parts of the envelope, and they’re waiting to test under the stamp. There was no trace evidence. Unless some of the contents of the letter give us a clue, the only thing we can do is send it to Quantico for profiling.”

  “They did a profile on the suspected killer earlier this year, didn’t they?” Annie asked. “I think I remember hearing that.”

  Gordon nodded. “They did. They’ll take that letter and compare it to their profile. It won’t prove it’s the same guy, but it could give us an idea if it’s someone else. Which we all are pretty sure it isn’t.”

  “So where does this leave the investigation?” Ethan asked.

  “Basically at the same place it was, until something else happens.” Gordon shrugged. “Except that now we know this guy is aware of Chase, and that some of you may be in danger.”

  As they all absorbed the seriousness of the situation, Chase sighed. “So what do you propose we do about that threat?”

  Gordon looked at Beth and Annie. “The killer seems to think the two of you are Chase’s Achilles’ heels. That doesn’t mean he won’t target someone else close to you, so everyone should be careful, but the two of you especially need to be alert. Beth, you have Ethan.” he looked at Ethan. “And I’m sure you’ll be sticking pretty close to her until we get a break?” Ethan nodded.

  “I’ll be staying at the guest house with Annie until we can get a security system installed there,” Chase said. It was testament to the seriousness of the situation that no one teased them about the arrangement.

  “And after that?” Jason asked. “No offense, Annie, I know you can take care of yourself, but a security system is only good if you’re in the house, it’s armed, and no one tries to break in. What if the guy waits for you outside some evening?” Chase shot him a grateful look and kept his silence while he waited for Annie’s response.

  “I don’t know, Jason,” she confessed.
“What should I do? Carry a gun? Pepper spray? Stay in the house day and night? Those aren’t options.”

  “The department’s going to increase patrols out here—already have, as a matter of fact,” Stacy chimed in. “That will help some, but I agree; it isn’t enough. Do you have any pepper spray, Annie?”

  “As it happens, I do,” Annie said. “And as far as a gun goes, Beth, please don’t take this the wrong way, but last year, a gun didn’t do you any good. You carry,” she told her friend, “and look what still happened.”

  Beth sighed. “I know, but I still feel safer with a gun than without. I have another question, though. What happens if you can’t catch this guy?” she asked Gordon. “How long do we put our lives on hold for this man?”

  Gordon shook his head. “You don’t,” he answered. “Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t stop living your lives. That’s giving him a power he doesn’t deserve.”

  “Why haven’t the feds taken over Kiely’s case?” Ethan asked. “No offense to the cops in Lexington, but wouldn’t you do a better job?”

  “I was wondering that myself,” Chase added.

  “Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple,” Gordon said. “I can investigate the letter Chase received. It crossed state lines, which makes it federal jurisdiction. However, as much as we all know that letter is from the killer, there’s no absolute proof. Until and unless we have that proof, we can’t just jump in and take the case away from Lexington. Right now, it’s just circumstantial evidence and a big hunch that Kiely’s murder is connected to those other eight. The profile fits, but again, that’s just someone’s opinion. And there’s another complication.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Chase said. “It just gets better and better.”

  Gordon sent him a look that was full of sympathy. “Sorry, Chase. I did a little digging around, and it looks like Neal Bledsoe has a friend or two in the Lexington police department.”

  “What kind of friends?” Annie asked.

  “The kind with power,” Gordon said. “The kind you can’t ignore. I still have a friend or two down there myself in the Commonwealth Attorney’s office, and they tell me that there’s speculation about the new detective they have on the case—Greg Hart. He may or may not be in Bledsoe’s pocket. I’ve talked to him a time or two. He seemed to know what he was doing, acted interested in solving the case, but you can never tell.”

  “So we have a killer who’s sending letters after ten years of silence, a detective who may or may not be crooked, a politician who has a personal vendetta against Chase, and who has the money and influence to wield a heavy sword, if need be. And it’s an election year in Kentucky,” Beth said. “Does that about sum it up?”

  “Pretty much,” Gordon replied. “You left out the part about little to no evidence connecting Kiely’s murder to the others, though.”

  Ethan stood and went into the kitchen for dessert. As he came back in with a cake and plates, he frowned. “Gordon, do you have anything up your sleeve? Anything at all?”

  Gordon hesitated before he answered. “I might have one thing,” he said. “But I can’t tell you about it. No offense. I just need to follow proper channels on this.”

  “None taken,” Ethan assured him. “Just tell us this—do you think it will work?”

  “I have no idea whether it will work or not, Ethan, but it’s all I have, so I’m hoping it does. Unless this guy decides to make another move, we’re pretty much stuck in the mud.”

  “Then God help us, I hope he makes another move soon,” Beth said. “And that it’s a stupid one.” There was a chorus of "Amen" around the table, and Chase sighed. He hated waiting for the next shoe to drop, and he had a bad feeling the game was only just getting started.

  Chapter 8

  The killer watched the house for several days before he made his move. He hadn’t made it this far in his killing career by being reckless, after all. Of all the times for his job to bring him to this part of the state of Kentucky, he thought it had to be providential that he was in the area now.

  Watching the news earlier in the month, he’d seen the sob story they’d run on Kiely Turner’s murder. The idea for the celebration had popped into his head, and he was more excited about it than anything he’d experienced in recent years. According to the news report, he wasn’t the only one who thought the tenth anniversary of Kiely’s death should be remembered. He recalled the way the camera had focused in on Kiely’s headstone as the narrator spoke. It was a dark granite memorial, the kind that had a picture of the deceased etched into its surface. Next to her sister’s grief, it had served as a stark reminder of a life snuffed out too soon. The fake sympathy the reporter had exhibited had made him laugh.

  Part of the interview had taken place in Amy Lynn’s house. Since the killer had decided to involve Kiely’s loved ones in the anniversary celebration, he had been searching for the perfect gift to send Amy Lynn. As the camera panned around the room where Kiely’s earthly belongings now resided, he’d seen the perfect gift and known instantly that he had to take it. He had started planning the hows and whens that very moment.

  Because of the identity of the man Amy Lynn had married, there was actually quite a bit to work with. Neal Bledsoe was a high-ranking state representative, serving in Kentucky’s House. He was a big name on the political front in Kentucky, and he and Amy Lynn hosted a number of events at their home throughout the year. Their home had been featured in numerous architectural magazines and was touted as one of the South’s finest. It was a very happy coincidence for the killer that the weekend he was going to be in Ashland was also the same weekend one of those open-door fundraisers was scheduled. Okay, maybe “open door” wasn’t the right term; most of the guests attending were paying through the nose for the privilege, the killer included.

  Using the identity of his only male victim to obtain an invitation had been a fairly simple affair. The promise of a hefty cash donation had opened the front door widely. He’d purchased a throwaway cell phone and made calls to the pertinent people and, within a few short hours, the invitation had arrived at the hotel room he had rented for just that purpose. It was an alias he had used several times in the past for various reasons, and a skin he felt comfortable slipping into.

  When the day of the fundraiser arrived, he’d shown up fashionably late. The bulk of the activities were already in progress, so slipping away to find Kiely’s room had been easy. Once out of sight of the crowd and the home-grown security team, he headed upstairs to the family quarters. Even though it was a large house, it hadn’t taken him very long to find the room he was looking for. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The light perfume lingering in the air took him back and, for a whimsical moment, he imagined that Kiely was there with him. Glancing around, he spied the small bottle of the inexpensive cologne that sat on the dresser, and he smiled. If he hadn’t known he was in the room of a murdered woman, he would have thought he had walked into a time-warped version of reality. Amy Lynn had gone to some trouble to make sure the room was set up just as though someone actually lived there.

  For a few minutes, he moved around the room touching an item here or there with his gloved hands. As tempted as he was to stay and revel in the room’s sheer presence, he knew he was on borrowed time. Full of purpose, he looked for the keepsake he’d seen in the news report. He eventually found it hanging on a peg above a memory board full of pictures. Within seconds, he had it tucked safely away, along with a picture of Kiely that, given her expression, had to have been taken by a man. He was on his way to the door when he happened to glance at the bookcase next to the door. He could hardly believe his eyes, and his hands actually trembled as he reached for the diary.

  His heart skipped a beat as he read the words written in the journal. The killer knew immediately that he had to take the slim volume with him. It was filled with cramped writing, and just from the few, short passages he had glimpsed, he knew it was a treasure trove of potentially damaging inf
ormation. For a moment, he debated whether he should take the chance of stealing the journal and possibly get caught with it, or play it safe and leave the book behind. In the end, the choice was obvious. He had to take it with him. The information it contained was simply too good to leave behind. Grateful that he had worn a suit jacket, he tucked the journal into the inside pocket. He was a little surprised to see that it fit like the pocket had been made to hold it, and told himself it was more providence.

  With quiet stealth, he opened the door and eased into the hall. He had made it almost to the top of the stairs when something in a room to the left caught his attention. Smiling, he could hardly believe the kindness fate had dealt him. It only took a second to step inside the room and take what he needed. It was possibly even better than what he had come to the house for in the first place. He’d finally found that perfect gift to give Kiely’s sister.

  Chapter 9

  Amy Lynn Bledsoe’s day had been crazy from the start, as most of her days tended to be this late in an election year. Her husband Neal was up for re-election for his seat in the Kentucky House of Representatives. Unless something went drastically wrong, he would be reelected to his third term in November, but there was still a lot of glad-handing and making nice that had to be done to keep his constituents happy. Since there was a strong rumor moving about Frankfort and beyond that Neal was on the short list of candidates for Speaker of the House, this election season was perhaps more important than previous ones. Being named Speaker was an honor that suited Neal and Amy Lynn’s ambitions just fine. Neal was on the fast track to the governor’s mansion, and they both knew it. To that end, Amy Lynn’s days were often filled with hours of committee meetings, honorary luncheons, and other politically motivated engagements.