“I’ll call the chief,” Reggie said, “and make sure we get a warrant to cover this address.”
While Reggie made the call, Wesley took a closer look at the truck. The right side had quite a bit of damage. Someone had tried to cover the dents and scratches with matching dark, blue paint but had missed a few places. Susan’s yellow Camaro screamed back at him.
“Hey, Reg, take a look at this. Burkett had to be the one who ran Susan off the road. I’m sure analysis of the yellow paint will verify that.”
“I’ve got a bit of information, too. The chief ran a check on Burkett’s parents. Get this. They died a couple of years ago. The chief wrote the warrant to include this house and any vehicles. The Crime Scene Unit and the wrecker are on their way.”
Wesley and Reggie waited until the Crime Unit completed their initial procedure. Other than the truck being at that address, the team didn’t turn up anything new. Everyone left together and returned to headquarters.
On the way back, Wesley called Susan. “We located Burnett’s truck, and it had yellow paint on it. Pretty sure that’ll tie him to you.”
Susan gave a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Will I see you later?”
“Not tonight. There’s too much going on right now. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
As soon as Wesley returned to headquarters, he picked up a photo of Nina’s earring. “Come on, Reg. We’ve got to let the chief know about this.”
“You anxious to get rid of me?”
“You know that’s not the case. It’s just that...well, it’s not fair to have Charlie start over with someone else. I do believe the boy has potential.”
Reggie smiled. “I know what you mean.”
Wesley and Reggie met with the chief and showed him the photo of the earring. “That should clear, Charlie,” Wesley said.
Reggie joined in the conversation. “Looks like you won’t need my services anymore. Wesley and I have discussed the situation, and we’re good.”
“I have to admit that I am glad Charlie has been cleared of any wrong doing. I’m especially glad the public will know he had nothing to do with the murder. I pride myself on being a pretty good judge of character and would hate to think one of our own could ever do such a thing. I’ll give Charlie a call in a little while. Reggie, I can’t thank you enough for coming to our rescue.”
“It’s been interesting. If you ever have an opening in Homicide, keep me in mind.”
“You bet,” the chief said.
Wesley and Reggie returned to their desks.
“I don’t have anything to pack, so I guess this is goodbye,” Reggie said.
The two men shook hands.
“Thanks again,” Wesley said. “You’re a good man, Reg. Let me know if I can ever return the favor.”
After Reggie left, Wesley placed a call to the high school. The office personnel confirmed that Mr. Burkett worked part-time for them. Wesley scheduled an appointment with the principal for the following afternoon.
He cleared his desk and was about to leave when his phone rang.
“Wesley, this is Vince. Can you come by the morgue in the morning, say about eight-thirty? I have a little more information for you.”
“I’ll be there.”
The sun had already set by the time Wesley climbed into his Tundra. It had been a long day, but a rewarding one. He looked forward to having Charlie back as his partner. When he turned into his driveway, a grin crossed his face. Charlie’s Chevy pickup was parked out front.
“I gather you got the call,” Wesley said, as he met up with Charlie on the front porch.
Charlie lowered his head, as if ashamed to look Wesley in the eye. “Yeah, Chief Smith and I had a long talk. I agreed with everything he had to say. From now on, I’m going to be a changed person.” When Charlie looked up, his demeanor changed. A mischievous grin curled the corners of his mouth. “What took you so long to clear me?” he teased.
“Huh, if Burkett hadn’t decided to keep a souvenir, you’d still be suspended.”
Wesley unlocked the door, and they entered the house.
“Tell me what all I’ve missed,” Charlie said. “It was horrible being out of the loop.”
“You mean Kara didn’t tell you what to expect?”
“How did you—. Did she tell you I went to see her?”
“Nope. I have my ways.”
“Well, just between me and you, that card turning stuff was a bunch of gobble-de-gook.”
For the next hour, Wesley told Charlie everything about Nina’s murder and about finding Burkett’s body.
Charlie was mesmerized by what all had happened. “His throat was cut with a broken bottle? That’s vicious. Why not just shoot him?”
“Maybe the killer didn’t have a gun or didn’t have access to Burkett’s hunting rifle,” Wesley said. “A deputy found it mounted on his ATV. By the way, Vince called this afternoon. He wants to see me in the morning. Think you can handle another trip to the morgue?”
Charlie swallowed as if forcing down a lump in his throat. “I’ll be ready. What time do you want to meet?”
“Eight o’clock will be early enough.”
“See you at headquarters.”
After Charlie left, Wesley grabbed a beer and flopped down on the sofa. He needed a few minutes to unwind, then he planned to call Susan. Next thing he knew, he had dozed off. It was two o’clock in the morning when he shuffled down the hall and fell into bed.
The following morning, Susan was up and pacing the living room. She was excited about going to the site with Martha. After filling Marmalade’s food bowl and giving her fresh water, Susan’s cell phone dinged. Martha had sent a text saying, “Be there in five minutes.” Susan hurried out front, locked the apartment, and waited for her.
Instead of the white van parked in Martha’s driveway, an old Chevy step-side, extended-cab truck rumbled to the curb. The once-red paint job had lived past its luster and was now dull and faded. In the back of the truck, Tasha pranced around an ATV that had been secured in the center of the bed. When Susan approached, Tasha stretched her neck over the side for a closer inspection.
Susan opened the passenger door and climbed in. “You’re not afraid Tasha might fall out?”
“She hasn’t so far, and we’ve made many a trip together. I’m not a speedy driver, so she doesn’t have to worry about a rough ride.”
“What year is this truck?”
“Looks that bad, huh?” Marsha laughed. “It’s a 2000 year model. Yes, it has been through some hard times, but mechanically, the truck is sound.” Martha paused and gave Susan the once-over. “For someone who’s into merchandizing and the latest trends, I’m surprised to see you sporting a fanny pack.”
“Trust me. It’s not my thing, but it’s necessary for this trip.”
The Chevy’s big engine reverberated through Susan when Martha made a U-turn and accelerated toward the main highway. Then the motor quieted and hummed along well below the speed limit.
Martha wore a pair of loose-fitting, beige cargo pants and a flannel shirt. The yellow and brown plaid matched well with the pants, although Susan doubted that Martha had selected the colors with fashion in mind.
On the back seat lay a backpack and a floppy sunhat. A small, foldable shovel protruded from the pack. It was a scene right out of A. K.’s playbook. Susan glanced around to make sure there were no cameras recording their every move. The backpack didn’t look big enough to contain much, but Susan was confident Martha had packed everything they’d need.
A sliding window in the rear of the cab was opened for Tasha’s benefit. The Doberman poked her head into the cab and sniffed at Susan.
“She’s okay,” Martha said. “One of the team.”
Tasha barked as if she understood then withdrew to the bed to lap at the passing air.
“Where to?” Martha asked.
“The Burger Shack, just past the road to the marina.” Susan pointed out the Baw
dy Boutique and the Purple Pickle when they passed the shops. “It looks like my partner, A. K., is already there. She’s terrific. You’ll have to meet her.”
“After I visit your boutique, I’ll make a point of stopping at the costume shop. I’d like a snazzy outfit to wear for Mardi Gras this year.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you at both places. Oh, here we are. Pull around back, and we’ll unload the ATV there. We entered the woods across the highway.”
Martha drove around the Burger Shack and parked out of the way of customers. Susan helped her position the ramps then Martha backed down the ATV.
“Hey, you’re pretty good at handling that thing,” Susan said.
“I’ve had lots of practice.” Martha looked at Tasha then slapped her thigh. The dog jumped down from the truck and stood beside the four-wheeler. “You mind wearing my backpack to the site? I’d hate to gouge you with the shovel.”
“No problem.” Susan fetched the pack from the truck. It was heavier than she thought. After closing the tailgate, she climbed on the ATV behind Martha. Tasha stayed alongside until they crossed the highway and entered the woods.
“Okay, girl,” Martha said.
The dog broke into a run, racing first one way and then another into a world filled with new smells. She was never out of sight and often out ran the four-wheeler.
The trail was easy to follow after all the police traffic to and from the site. As they rambled down the well-worn path to the cabin, Susan kept her bearings. Only once did the trail become confusing. The path got jumbled up into the bushes, but Susan managed to point them in the right direction. Martha slowed when they approached a cabin.
“Not here,” Susan said. “The one we want is farther. Keep bearing to your right.”
When they approached the second cabin, Susan nudged Martha. “This is it. You might want to stop a few yards away so as not to disturb anything.”
They both climbed off the ATV. Martha called Tasha who came running. “Heel,” she said, and the dog took a position at her side and slightly behind her. “I’ll take my backpack now.” She reached inside and took out a can of bug spray. “We can’t go into the enemy’s territory without the proper armor,” she said. That remark was followed by a good spraying of Deet insect repellant. “That should take care of the biting bastards.”
Before slipping on the backpack, she replaced the spray and removed a camera. “Give me a chance to photograph the area first, and then we’ll see what we can unearth.”
Susan stayed back and let Martha do her thing. Tasha stayed close to Martha. Susan was impressed at how well the Doberman responded to Martha’s commands.
“Tasha won’t dig or disturb anything?” Susan asked.
“I’ve trained her not to, and she won’t leave my side, unless I give her the okay. I’ve taken enough pictures. You can join me now.”
Susan ducked under the yellow tape. The closer she got to the cabin, the more the hairs on her arms prickled. Heaviness seemed to bear down upon her—a quandary of emotions rather than the presence of an individual, and the sound that drummed in her ear was like music from some unknown instrument. Martha gave no sign that she was aware of anything.
“The first bones were discovered in the victim’s grave. You can see where the ground is turned up next to the cabin.” Susan pointed to the spot. “If you look under the edge of the cabin, you’ll find more bones. The coroner left them in place.
“Oh, there’s something else I should tell you about the victim. He still had his wallet on him. His driver’s license identified him as Dale Burkett.” Saying his name caused a rush of anger in Susan. Heat rose in her cheeks. “That monster tried to kill me. He shot at me then ran me off the road into the bayou. It was dark, and I couldn’t see enough to describe him at that time.”
“I remember reading about that accident. You were lucky those boys were behind you.”
“Yes, I’m grateful to them. Anyway, the day I found the arrowhead, Burkett was watching me from the woods. When he ran away, he knocked me over. I was only able to get a glimpse of him. Yesterday, Wesley located Burkett’s dark, blue truck, and it had yellow paint along its side. He’s pretty sure it will match the yellow from my Camaro. At least, I can breathe easier knowing he’s no longer a threat to me.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“Yeah, but we still can’t let down our guard while we’re out here. The person who killed Burkett is somewhere. Wesley was glad to hear that we had a Doberman with us.”
“So am I,” Martha said, reaching down and rubbing the dog’s head. “Tasha will attack on command.” Martha set the backpack on the ground and pulled out the small shovel. “Here’s where I could use your help. Open the backpack and take out the sieve.”
The handmade tool consisted of a piece of screen stretched and tacked to a wooden frame about four inches deep.
“Now what?” Susan asked.
“I’ll shovel. You shake. You know, that would make a good song.” Marsha laughed. “I want you to hold it so I can dump dirt into it. Don’t be rough. A gentle back-and-forth motion will do the trick. I’ll want to see what remains.”
The first shovel of dirt revealed the radius that the coroner had found. The next few scoops of dirt left nothing behind but some leaves and tiny twigs. Later, they uncovered a small bone and an arrowhead. “Interesting,” Martha said.
She took a notebook from the backpack and sketched the outline of the entire site, including the cabin and all the tiny flags. Next, she drew a grid over the sketch and numbered the squares. “My team will examine all these squares, but for now, we’ll investigate only certain ones, mainly those already marked with the flags. Let’s see,” she said as she counted across the squares. “That means the grave will represent number five. Now I need the box of clear freezer bags from the backpack.”
Susan located the box. It contained a variety of sizes. Using a Sharpie, Martha wrote the numeral five on a large bag and slipped the contents of that location into it. Following the same procedure, she exhumed the bones beneath the cabin and placed them into a bag marked with the corresponding number on the grid.
They moved from location to location, finding several more bones.
As Susan watched Martha work, she couldn’t help but wonder how such an intelligent and attractive woman had remained single...or had she? She hadn’t seen any family pictures in Martha’s office or at her house, and she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She’ll probably tell me it’s none of my business, but what the heck. “Since there wasn’t a Mr. Alexander at your house, I assume you’re not married.”
Martha took a while to answer. When she did, she never stopped brushing dirt from a bone and avoided Susan’s eyes. “I was married once, about ten years ago.”
Susan waited to hear more, but Martha changed the subject.
“I’m surprised to find so many remains within a small area,” Marsha said, picking up and examining a few of the bones more closely. “This is an ulna. It appears to have belonged to a young person, maybe someone in their teens.”
It was obvious Marsha didn’t want to talk about her personal life. Maybe another time, Susan thought.
While Martha continued to identify bones, Susan removed the arrowhead from her fanny pack. The artifact was already warm to the touch and grew hotter as she closed her fingers around it. The muscles in her legs relaxed, almost buckling when Tasha deserted her master and pushed against Susan. A mournful whine and a statuesque pose indicated the animal sensed something yet unseen. As the Doberman stared straight ahead, Susan followed her gaze. Gradually, the Indian came into focus. In a voice akin to a whisper, Susan said to Martha, “He’s here.”
Martha stopped talking and looked around them. “Who?” she asked, with a definite tremor in her voice.
“The Indian.”
The slight gap in Martha’s lips was followed by a frown that creased her forehead. “I don’t see anyone. Where is he?” She continued to glance arou
nd the area then expressed surprise that the Doberman was no longer by her side. “Tasha, what are you doing over there? Come!”
The dog did not respond.
“Look at her,” Susan said. “Animals sense things we can’t. Tasha obviously sees something. I’m willing to bet it’s the Indian. I wish you could see him, too. He’s a page right out of your book.”
“Can he talk?”
“He hasn’t yet.”
“Then how do you communicate with him?”
“So far, he has pointed to locations he wanted me to see. Right now, he’s pointing to his right.” Susan walked in that direction while keeping her eyes on the Indian. When he lowered his arm, she stopped and pointed at the ground. “Here?”
The Indian nodded.
Martha moved to where Susan was standing. With the shovel, she scraped away the leaves and scooped up a small shovel of dirt. She placed it into the sieve. Shaking it gently, the dirt sifted through the screen. What remained were more bones.
The Indian pointed to another location, and again, Martha recovered more remains. For the next hour, she marked at least twenty additional sites.
“I’ve seen more than enough,” Martha said. “We should go. My team is going to have lots of work to thoroughly excavate this area.” She looked in the direction where Susan had been addressing the Indian. “Tell your friend that I will get to the bottom of this.”
Tasha barked and ran to Martha’s side.
Susan placed a hand on Martha’s shoulder. “He’s no longer here. I wish he would talk to me,” Susan said. “I have so many questions. Do you have any idea what might have happened here, Martha?”
“I might.”
“Tell me.”
“Not until I review my records. I want to make sure of my facts. Before I do that, I need to notify my team and get this excavation underway. As soon as I finish organizing the dig, I’ll give you a call.”
“But you can’t—”
“I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but I promise I won’t be long, another day at the most.”
Susan slipped the backpack over her shoulders. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”
Mellow Yellow, Dead Red Page 16
