The Secrets We Bury

by Debra Webb

  “The scalp was broken and there was some blood,” she went on, “but the most significant aspect of the injury was the fairly deep compression at the base of the skull.” Blunt trauma to that area could cause basilar skull fractures, which would have set off a chain of events like intracranial bleeding. In Rowan’s opinion this was most likely the type of injury that had ended the elderly woman’s life. “Depending on the severity, death would have been quick.”

  “What about the size of the compressed area?”

  Rowan understood that he was attempting to conclude the type of object used to cause the trauma. “Two to three inches. Curved.” She thought of the rim on the tub. “Not unlike the rim of that tub where her body was found. Or perhaps a baseball bat.”

  Billy watched the coroner’s movements. “So we can’t rule out the idea that she fell in the tub.”

  Rowan shrugged. “I can’t rule out that possibility, no, but I can tell you that if she did, someone moved her onto the floor or someplace where she lay flat on her back for the next half-dozen hours or so.”

  “Or she managed to get up after the initial fall and then fell onto her back on the floor,” he countered with a dubious look in her direction. He was reaching for any sort of explanation that didn’t include murder. “But then she wouldn’t have been able to climb back into the tub six or so hours after her heart stopped beating.” He blew out a disgusted breath.

  Rowan had had this same conversation with herself on the drive back to the funeral home and again as she waited for Billy and the coroner to arrive. “If she fell twice, where are the other bruises?”

  Admittedly, if any bruising had occurred on her backside, it was obscured by the lividity. Another thought occurred to Rowan. “Where’s the blood on the floor? Unless your people cleaned it up or the daughter did, there would be blood from the damage to the scalp. And, of course, there’s the issue of how she ended up back in the tub.”

  Billy shook his head. “There was no blood on the floor when we arrived. Patty was very upset. I’m pretty confident she hadn’t cleaned the floor. In fact, she was sitting on the floor next to the bathtub when we arrived.”

  “You didn’t see any blood on the floor or on her clothes?” Burt asked as he glanced over his shoulder, joining the attempt to narrow down the possible scenarios to something besides murder.

  Billy shook his head. “Nope, but I will be asking Patty if she saw any when she arrived and found her mother.”

  Another question bobbed to the surface of the river of unknowns in Rowan’s churning mind. “Where were her clothes? Her nightgown? Whatever she had on before she got into the tub?” This was assuming Mrs. Phillips was still breathing when she ended up in that tub.

  Not likely, Rowan.

  “I walked through the upstairs area—as a formality.” Billy’s forehead furrowed in thought. “I noticed a nightgown on the bed.”

  “Was the bed made?” Rowan didn’t know Geneva Phillips particularly well, but she wouldn’t have taken her for a woman who walked around naked, even in the privacy of her own home.

  “It was.”

  Rowan was impressed with his attention to detail. He was the chief of police, she reminded herself. She had to stop seeing him as her old friend, the popular guy in school and beloved high school football hero. Billy was a highly trained, experienced law enforcement officer. He possessed a master’s degree in criminal justice, and he had worked a decade and a half with the Winchester Police Department, including serving as the top cop. He was no amateur by any means. His place on the Addington joint task force was not his first foray with a multiagency task force, either, though she suspected the agent in charge had selected Billy as much for his longtime friendship with Rowan as for anything else.

  Billy’s face lined in thought. “Patty said the front door was locked when she arrived. I asked her that specifically even though I had no reason to suspect foul play.” He shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

  Patricia Phillips, now Patterson, had been called Patty for as long as Rowan could recall. She was two years older than Rowan. She remembered her more than her older sister, Jennifer.

  “What about the back door?” Rowan asked. If she came in the front and found her mother dead, she likely hadn’t bothered checking the back door.

  Billy’s eyebrows went up his forehead. “Good question.” He withdrew his cell phone and made a call. When the person on the other end answered, he said, “Jennifer, I hate to bother you again, but have you or your sister gone out the back door since you arrived?” He listened for a moment. “Do you mind checking to see if it’s locked?”

  Several seconds passed and Rowan couldn’t help holding her breath.

  Billy frowned again. “As far as you know, has anyone gone in or out that door?” He listened for another moment before thanking her and ending the call. “The back door was unlocked.” He shook his head. “Damn it all to hell. I should have checked that, but the situation looked cut-and-dried. I didn’t see any reason to look beyond what appeared to be the obvious.” He turned his hands up. “To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t the sort of situation that triggered my instincts.”

  Rowan felt his pain. No law enforcement officer liked to realize that he’d missed something at a potential crime scene. But like he said, this one had seemed completely unambiguous. She opened her mouth to say something reassuring when Burt turned away from the body he’d been examining and removed his glasses.

  Billy stood. Rowan held her breath again.

  “Welp—” the older man peeled off his gloves “—I am ashamed to say that I screwed up on this one.” He glanced back at the deceased woman and exhaled a weary breath. “Really screwed up.” He faced Billy and Rowan once more. “There is no way she died in that bathtub. Whatever happened, whether it was an accident or a homicide, someone picked her up long hours after the blow to the back of her head occurred and placed her in that tub.”

  Hands on his hips, Billy grimaced. “As grateful as I am that I’ll have the opportunity to find the person who did this terrible thing, I hate like hell to deliver that news to the family.”

  “It’s my mistake,” Burt said. “I’ll go with you to talk to the family.”

  Billy shook his head. “You don’t need to that, Burt. But thank you for the offer.”

  Rowan thought of the bones she’d stumbled upon at the lake. Now Billy had two possible murders to investigate.

  Even as the thought crossed her mind, he turned to her. “I know you put homicide investigations behind you when you left Nashville, but I could use your help, Ro. Fresh eyes, fresh perspective.”

  She nodded. “Whatever you need.”

  Rowan had been taking care of the dead in one fashion or another most of her life. No need to allow her one monumental mistake of failing to recognize a murderer right under her nose to change the path fate had set for her.

  On some level she might have been subconsciously waiting since the day she arrived back in Winchester for Billy to ask this very question.

  Death had always been more a part of her life than living.

  Three

  “Patty, I’m really sorry to bother you right now.” Billy dropped his head for a moment. He hated like hell to dredge up the possibility of murder. He took a breath, raised his head and met her gaze once more. “But these questions have to be asked. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll make this interview as quick and forthright as possible.”

  The woman staring at him in total confusion was a year his senior, but he remembered her from school. Unlike her older sister, who had been the star of the girls’ basketball team, Patty had been a cheerleader. Head cheerleader, if he recalled correctly. She cheered at every game he played his freshman through junior years. Both the Phillips girls had been popular and had grown up to be great mothers and successful career women. Jennifer was an economic adviser for a Fortune 500 company in Louisvi
lle and Patty was principal at the elementary school right here in Winchester.

  She finally blinked. “Okay. I understand you have to do what you have to do. What kind of questions?”

  “First, I want you to walk me through yesterday afternoon from the moment you arrived at your mother’s house until I showed up. You pulled into the driveway and you can start right there.”

  Lines marred her brow. “I already did that. Last night.” She hugged her arms around herself. “You asked me a million questions while Mr. Johnston was...” She shook her head. “I thought I understood the need for all these extra questions, but I don’t. Not really. I’m heartbroken and confused and this is frightening me. Why are you asking me these questions again, Billy?”

  He acknowledged her confusion with a nod, gave her a sad smile. “I understand this is difficult and I certainly don’t want to frighten you, but it’s really important that we have the clearest picture possible of the minutes before you called me.”

  She blinked once, twice. He hoped like hell she wasn’t about to point out how he’d dodged the question entirely. These women were reeling. Their father had passed away just two months ago, and now their mother. And worse, their mother might have been murdered.

  What was he thinking? Obviously she had been murdered. He supposed there was a scant outside chance the whole thing was some sort of bizarre accident, but he doubted it. Seriously doubted it.

  Patty looked away and exhaled a mighty breath. “I parked in the driveway. I was really worried because I kept calling her—house phone and cell—and she wasn’t answering. Momma always answers...answered her phone.”

  He dipped his head. His own momma was the same. She kept that cell phone close. As proud of Billy as she was, she worried about him. Every time a policeman anywhere in the country was shot, she called to remind him to be extra careful out there.

  “Did you notice anyone—maybe a neighbor—outside?” Two of his officers were interviewing the neighbors along Woodlawn. If he was lucky, someone had seen an unfamiliar vehicle or person in the neighborhood on Sunday. He desperately needed a starting place on this one. Geneva Phillips was the kind of woman who didn’t have any enemies. Never been in trouble. Never caused any trouble. Just a nice lady who lived a kind and quiet life.

  “Not that I noticed.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I was really worried, so when I got out of my car I hurried to the door and banged over and over. When she didn’t answer I unlocked the front door with my key. Both my sister and I have keys. Momma wanted it that way. Said if we ever needed anything just to go in and get it.” Her lips trembled. “But I always knocked first anyway.”

  He smiled, hated to see the fresh glimmer of tears in her eyes. “My momma says the same thing. I don’t think they ever stop wanting to take care of us.”

  She managed a faint smile. “I aspire to be that kind of momma.”

  Patty had two boys in elementary school. From what he’d seen, they were a bit on the rowdy side, but she was always patient with them. “You already are,” he assured her. “Every time I ran into Mrs. Phillips, she bragged about you and Jenn. Always talked about her grandkids. She was very proud of you both.”

  Patty blinked back more tears and moistened her lips. “Anyway, I started calling for her as soon as I walked through the door. The house was eerily quiet.” She frowned. “You know what I mean? Like the spirit of the house was gone or something. Like there was nothing left...”

  Billy nodded. “An emptiness.” He’d sensed the same the first time he’d walked into his grandmother’s house after she’d passed. The vibrant, sweet lady was gone and that gracious spirit of hers had vanished, too. The house was nothing but four walls then. She had been the essence of that home.

  “Yes. Emptiness.” Another big sigh hissed past her lips. “So I went to the kitchen. It was her favorite place. She wasn’t in the kitchen, so I went upstairs. The whole time I was calling for her.”

  “But you didn’t go to the back door?”

  She hesitated. Shook her head. “I looked out the window over the sink just to make sure she wasn’t on the back porch, but no, I didn’t go near the door.” Another of those deep frowns furrowed her brow. “Jenn said you asked her about the back door. What’s going on, Chief?”

  “Before we talk about that,” he hedged, “let’s finish with what you did when you went upstairs.”

  Her face still reflecting confusion, she continued, “I went into her bedroom. It’s that first room on the right. The windows face out over the street. She loved looking out in the mornings when she got up. This street’s so quiet and she could see the flowers in the yards of the other houses. She loved flowers, you know.”

  She hesitated one, two, three seconds before going on. “She wasn’t in her room, so I went to the bathroom. She was in the tub.” She covered her trembling lips with the fingers of one hand, then cleared her throat. “Her eyes were open but she wasn’t breathing, and her body was cold and hard, like...” Her emotions got the better of her then.

  Billy gave her a moment to collect herself. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. This was about the worst time in the world to have to ask more questions, but there was no help for it.

  “Think a moment, Patty,” he said. “Was the bathroom door open or closed?”

  She frowned as if trying to recall. “Open.”

  “When you looked in, did you notice any blood on the floor? Did you see any blood at all?”

  There had been one smear of blood where Mrs. Phillips’s head had lain. Billy had noticed it when she was removed from the tub. He had gone over and over the time he and Burt had spent in that bathroom. If there was blood anywhere else, he had not seen it and Burt hadn’t, either. The evidence techs would need to check for any indications of blood that had been cleaned up anywhere else in the house.

  She thought for a long moment, and then finally, she said, “No. Only what was in her hair.”

  His pulse rate picked up. “And what about her clothes? Her nightgown was on the bed. Was it her habit to go into the bathroom for her shower or bath without any clothes on and without taking what she planned to put on afterward?”

  Patty’s eyes rounded as if she’d only just considered the idea. “I can’t imagine Momma ever walking around in the house without clothes on. Not ever. Not for any reason. And she always took whatever she intended to wear into the bathroom with her. Even though she lived alone, she was a very modest person.” She smiled and just as quickly that smile crumpled into tears. “She told us a million times to always wear clean drawers and to never be caught with them off. ‘You never know when you’ll be in an accident,’ she’d say.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “There is no way she would have walked out of her bedroom without a stitch on.” Her watery gaze captured Billy’s. “What are you thinking happened?”

  “Right now, I’m not entirely certain. Of course, there’s always the chance she just plain forgot or decided it was time she did things differently,” Billy offered, but he had a bad feeling that was not the case. “Whatever happened, we have to rule out all the possibilities.”

  “What kind of possibilities?” She seemed to shrink into herself as she asked the question.

  “Have you and your sister had a chance to go through the house to ensure nothing is missing?”

  Her breath caught. “You think someone hurt Momma?”

  He held up his hands and spoke as calmly and gently as possible. “That’s one of the possibilities we have to consider.”

  “We haven’t really looked for anything that might be missing, but we can, if that’s important.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” he urged, “it would be very helpful.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “Patty, I’m aware how highly thought of your momma was in this community, but I have to ask this next question.” />
  “Okay.” The single word was spoken in such a small voice that he wouldn’t have realized she’d spoken at all if he hadn’t been looking directly at her.

  Billy ached for having to cause her this additional pain. “Is there anyone who might have felt ill will toward your momma? Anyone who had some sort of grievance with her?”

  Patty shook her head adamantly. “Everybody loved Momma. She didn’t have any enemies, Chief. If what you’re suggesting is true, it had to be a robbery. Somebody who didn’t know her. Maybe they were passing through town. Followed her home from the Piggly Wiggly. Or some crazed addict on some awful drug. No one in their right mind who knew her would have hurt her.”

  He nodded. Geneva Phillips had that kind of reputation. But there were bad people in this world who did bad things and sometimes they went unnoticed, like the son of a bitch who’d killed Ro’s father. Money, drugs, jealousy—there was no shortage of motives for those who committed violent crimes, given the right circumstances.

  “All right. As I mentioned before, my evidence techs are preparing to go through the house and check for any prints and additional forensic evidence. I’ve asked Jenn to step out for the day. As soon as the techs are finished, I need you and your sister to go through the house very carefully. As best you can, determine if anything at all is missing. Check her bank account. We want to ensure that all valuables in general or items that might have some value to another person are where they should be.”

  She nodded. “We can do that. I can check her bank account online. My name is on the account, too.”

  “That’s good. You and Jenn talk about this and see if you can come up with anyone who might have held a grudge against your momma related to some misunderstanding, recent or in the past.” He stood. “I’ll give you a call as soon as it’s okay to return to the house. We can compare notes once you’ve had a chance to complete your inventory.”