Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  “Sounds like a winner to me,” Brad said. He’d planned to go after he dropped Kelsey off at the museum, anyway. As they drove across town, he kept an eye on traffic behind him and took the long way around to the house. If anyone was following them, he couldn’t see it.

  When they pulled into the drive, he was struck once again with the uniqueness of the home. He walked around to open her door, surprised that she’d waited for him this time. Not a breeze stirred the May heat that felt more like the middle of June.

  He scanned the area for a place the killer could watch them unobserved. Somehow he’d seen Brad load the box into the trunk of his car. There were several cars parked up and down the street that he hadn’t noticed yesterday. A couple of them had tinted windows too dark to see inside. And two blocks down was a convenience store where his car could be observed by anyone.

  “Trying to figure out how he knew you took something from the house?” Kelsey asked.

  “Yeah. Did you ask your mom if the people were going to buy the house?” he asked as they walked behind the house.

  “Too much has happened, and I never thought of it again. I’ll give her a call tonight.”

  “Have you talked to her today?”

  “Twice. She still wants me to come home.”

  He stopped and turned her to face him. “I’m a cop and I can protect you better than anyone.”

  She raised her head, fear showing in her green eyes. He wanted to make this nightmare go away. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. But they both knew that until the man was caught, she wasn’t safe, not even with him.

  With a lift of her chin, her eyes narrowed and a hard glint darkened her eyes. “This won’t last forever. He will make a mistake. And we’ll catch him.”

  I’ll catch him, Brad wanted to say, and if he had his way about it, Kelsey would be on her way to Alaska until this was over. “Let’s look in the shed.”

  The double doors stood ajar.

  “Didn’t you lock this?” Kelsey asked.

  “I did. I bet the files he took didn’t have what he was looking for. He must have come back.”

  Brad opened the doors and groaned. The desk drawers were pulled open, and papers were scattered everywhere. “Looks like whoever took the box in my trunk didn’t find what they wanted.”

  “So he came back here. What do you suppose he’s looking for?”

  “Something that would incriminate him.”

  She cocked her head. “But why wait this long?”

  Brad had no definite answer. “How many people knew that your dad’s papers were stored here?”

  Kelsey shrugged. “No one, except Mom. I didn’t know, and Sam even seemed surprised at dinner the other night.”

  He thought back. Sam had been surprised, but that didn’t mean anything. “Do you suppose he said something to someone?”

  “Tomlinson said he’d talked to Sam. Do you think . . .”

  “I don’t know what I think. But I’ll have a talk with the director when I drop you off.” He glanced at the mess. “At least we know what’s in the desk and on the floor isn’t worth going through. Shall we look through some of the other boxes?”

  Kelsey stopped at the desk and stared at it. “I just remembered that Dad showed me a hidden recess one time . . . He wrote me notes and hid them in a secret compartment.” She touched one of the panels on the desk, but it was solid. The smile she gave him was apologetic. “I thought that might slide back and reveal the hiding place. Even if we find it, there might not be anything in it anyway.”

  She pressed another panel and it slid back, exposing a cubbyhole. “Oh! This is it. He put my notes right here on the shelf.”

  Brad knelt beside her and used his phone to shine a light in the recess. “There’s something white stuck behind the shelf.”

  He stuck his hand past the recess and shifted the paper with his fingers. “It’s bigger than the hole and feels like a folder. Check and see if there’s another larger recess.”

  Kelsey pressed the other panels to no avail. “Dad must have put whatever this is on the rolltop and it slid down in the space.”

  They pulled the desk out, and Brad examined the back. Nothing short of destroying the desk would get the paper out. When he straightened up, Kelsey was working in the cubbyhole.

  “There’s a tiny bit of space between the front and back panels,” she said. “I think I can move the folder and pull the papers out.”

  “Go for it.”

  He shined his flashlight on the cubbyhole again. She inched the folder to where she could slide her fingers inside it. “I think I’ve got one of the sheets.”

  If they were lucky, they would be stapled together. Sweat was dripping off his face. “You want me to fan you?”

  “No, just hold the light where I can see what I’m doing.”

  Once she separated the papers from the folder, she trapped the top of the papers between two fingers and twisted. “It’s rolling up.”

  “How are you doing that?”

  “It comes from rock-climbing and manipulating the cracks. There. Got it.” She drew the rolled-up papers out. “No more snide remarks about my rock-climbing. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. What is it?”

  She unrolled the papers. “Looks like some sort of list.”

  He looked over her shoulder, and the first thing he saw was the shrunken head that had been listed in Sergeant Warren’s report. Below it were some of the other missing artifacts he’d seen listed. “This is what our thief was looking for. Your father must have been trying to discover who the thief was. What’s on the second page?”

  She flipped the sheet. “I think you’re right. It looks like he was compiling a list of suspects.” She looked closer. “Well, maybe not suspects. Looks more like a list of all the employees.”

  He scanned the list. Mark and Robert Tomlinson, Jackson King . . . Beside him, Kelsey gasped.

  “Sam and Grant’s names are there.”

  There were three other names he didn’t recognize. He scanned the rest of the writing to see if Paul Carter had an idea who had taken the artifacts, but if he did, it wasn’t written on this paper.

  “So he knew someone was stealing artifacts,” Kelsey said.

  “And anyone who worked there could have taken them. Probably wasn’t as much security then as now. I just wish he’d been more specific.”

  The file didn’t add anything to the information he had. The only thing it did was to confirm people he already suspected. Except Helen Peterson’s and Julie Webb’s names weren’t on the list, even though Brad hadn’t completely ruled them out. “I don’t think your dad was hiding this. It’s too general. It just got stuck there.”

  A text dinged on his phone. Rachel wanting to know if he had time to brainstorm with her and Reggie.

  “Are you going back to the museum?”

  “I had planned to and work on the security angle.” She checked her watch. “But it’s after three now.”

  “Want to come to the CJC with me and discuss the case?”

  “You think I can help?”

  “I think we need fresh eyes.” And it would keep her with him and out of trouble.

  “So, actually I’d be working on finding out who stole the artifacts. Let me call Jackson and let him know I’m tracking down leads.”

  41

  AT THE CJC, Kelsey opened her computer bag and handed Brad the papers they’d found in her father’s desk. While he made copies, she powered up her laptop. She hadn’t recognized a few of the names and wanted to run a check on them once he returned her copy of the list.

  Kelsey scanned the whiteboard. Must be what they’d brainstormed earlier. Her father’s name and the other two victims were written at the top. She swallowed hard. Would her name be up there next? She shook the thought away. Not if she could help it.

  Below the victims’ names were those people who had been employed at the museum when her father was director and
were still employed or connected some way. Sam’s and Grant’s names were up there. Brad handed her a copy of what they’d found, then handed one to Rachel before he added three more names to the board, people she didn’t know. Last, he added Julie’s and Helen’s names.

  Reggie came into the room as she said, “I don’t think Sam’s and Grant’s names should be there.”

  All three of the detectives turned to look at her.

  “Why?”

  She knew her stepfather and uncle like she knew herself, and neither of the men would kill her father . . . or try to kill her. But these detectives would need more than her gut reaction. “My dad may have been jealous of Sam. Maybe he thought Sam stole his wife. I don’t know—I’ve never discussed that with my mom. But I know their character, and they wouldn’t be involved in anything like this.”

  “I’m sorry, but we never truly know anyone,” Rachel said. “In this business I’ve discovered the blackest hearts in the nicest people.”

  Kelsey refused to believe the two men could have anything to do with her dad’s murder or attempting to kill her. She eyed the names on the board she didn’t recognize. If only it could be one of those people, because the suggestion that someone she personally knew had killed her father and wanted to kill her . . . it was unimaginable.

  Her gaze dropped to the next item on the whiteboard, and seeing the question in black and white sent another chill through her. “Why do you think my father’s remains were sent to the museum?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  Rachel’s face softened. “I know this must be hard for you.”

  “Hard doesn’t even touch what I feel,” she said. She would never forget the pull that crate had on her on Monday. It was like her spirit knew. “Do you think it’s possible the killer had an attack of conscience? Or were they being cruel and taunting me?”

  “I can tell you it wasn’t because of the murderer’s conscience,” Brad said. “If it was, he wouldn’t be trying to kill you now.”

  “We think the killer has an accomplice, and maybe after they found out Rutherford was murdered in the vault and the stamp had been stolen, the accomplice either became angry or scared. If we can discover who that person is, I believe we can break all the cases.” Reggie leaned back in the chair. “But right now it’s like a puzzle with no answers.”

  Brad turned to Rachel. “Do we have the analysis of fibers or particles found in the plastic wrapping?”

  “Partial.” Rachel pulled a folder from the stack in front of her. “The soil found in the plastic and in the crate was consistent with this area. Speaking of puzzling, there were traces of petroleum in the analysis. And, there were a couple of carpet threads caught on the bottom of the crate, which would help if we find the vehicle that transported the crate.”

  While they talked, Kelsey glanced at the paper and entered the first name on the list plus obit into a search engine. Wait. Did Rachel say something about petroleum? Why would there be traces of petroleum on the plastic? She tuned back in to their conversation.

  “Did the lab indicate the source of the petroleum?” Reggie asked.

  Rachel scanned the document. “They’re still running tests, but my bet would be motor oil.”

  Brad listed what they’d learned from the analysis. “What type of places would have motor oil? Other than a service station?”

  “Auto repair shop,” Rachel said.

  “Junkyard,” Reggie added.

  “You should see the crusher in action. It can reduce a car to a cube.” “How about a scrap metal place where cars are crushed?”

  Brad paused. “What made you say that?”

  “Jackson King told me just today about his dad’s scrap iron company. We’re looking for a burial site from twenty-eight years ago, and that one might fit the bill.”

  “You may be right.” He put scrap iron businesses on the board.

  “Let’s each of us take a person on the board and interview them,” Rachel said. “I’ll take Robert Tomlinson and his brother.”

  Reggie said, “How about the people who worked at the museum twenty-eight years ago but aren’t there now?”

  Kelsey checked her computer. She had hits for her search, and she clicked on the first one, a funeral home in Memphis. “The first person is deceased,” she said, reading the page.

  “What?” Brad said. “How do you know?”

  “I looked him up.” She read the name. “And the obituary says he was a former employee of the museum.”

  “Check the others,” Reggie said.

  The others weren’t as easy to find, but after several tries, she located an obituary for the second one and reported it. Then she looked for a Facebook page for a Junior Coleman and found four hits. The first two were kids, the third one lived in Michigan, and when she clicked on the About link for the last one, she found the Pink Palace Museum listed under Former employment. Her eyes widened when she saw his present workplace. “Found him, and he’s working at the Coon Creek Science Center.”

  “You’re kidding.” Brad looked over her shoulder. “I feel a road trip coming on. Check and see what their hours are. And get their number.”

  She entered the question into the search engine and two clicks later had the answer. “Ten to four.”

  “How about tomorrow morning?” Rachel said. “The place will be closed today before we get out of Memphis.”

  “Maybe I can get the director’s phone number from Julie, and he could provide an address for the man,” Kelsey said. She scrolled through her contacts and called her. A few minutes later, she relayed the number to Brad and he made the call.

  “The man in question is out of town today,” he said when he disconnected. “But he’ll be there by nine in the morning—they have a camp scheduled at noon.”

  Kelsey’s cell rang. It was Sabra, and she quickly answered, fearing the worst. “Is everything all right?”

  Her sister’s laughter quickly eased the knot in Kelsey’s stomach.

  “We’re fine. Dad thinks you need some R & R. He’s cooking out tonight and wants you to come by for supper. And bring Brad too.”

  “Let me check with him.” He might have a date with Elle. She turned to him. “Cookout tonight with my parents?”

  “Sure.”

  Too bad, Elle. Kelsey questioned Rachel with her eyes, but the sergeant shook her head.

  “I have a dinner date, but I’ll catch up with you two at Brad’s house by nine.”

  “We’ll be there,” Kelsey said to Sabra. “Can I stop and get anything?”

  “No, just bring yourselves. Lily is so looking forward to seeing you. She’s been worried.”

  Lily was too young to have that kind of pressure. “You tell my niece that I’m like a cat and always land on my feet.”

  42

  THIS TIME WHEN BRAD approached the Allen house, a guard operated the gate. Sam Allen had taken the security of his daughter and granddaughter very seriously. Perhaps it would have been a safer place for Kelsey as well. “Would you rather be here with your family instead of at my house?”

  “It’s not a matter of preference,” Kelsey said. “My presence here would be too dangerous for everyone. If this madman did attack, one of them might get hurt in the crossfire. I still shudder when I consider Sabra and Lily could have opened that garage door if they’d been home last night instead of here.”

  He admired the way Kelsey soldiered on. She’d been through a lot the past few days, and yet her thoughts were for someone else. There was a lot of courage in the woman sitting next to him, and he glanced at her. Today her short hair framed her face instead of the spikey look from Saturday, and he liked the way it made her green eyes look even bigger.

  “In the morning I’ll take you to work before I go to the science center,” he said as the gate swung open. “That is, if you’re comfortable working there without us around.”

  “I’ll be fine. I plan to look through the personnel records again, and go a little deeper than just names. Who knows,
maybe someone listed ‘bomb making’ in their résumé.”

  Brad laughed. “That would be awesome.” He pulled to the circle drive and parked. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to ask Sam and your mom a few questions.”

  “I don’t like it, but I understand. You don’t seriously believe Sam has anything to do with this, do you?”

  It was hard to know how to answer her. Almost ten years as a homicide detective had taught him that people weren’t always what they seemed. “I hope he’s not, but he and Grant are on that list your dad made.”

  “I thought we decided that was just a list of employees.”

  “Kelsey, they worked there at the time of his death. I can’t ignore that.”

  The front door opened, and Lily shot down the porch. “Aunt Kelsey! You’re here!”

  Kelsey didn’t wait for Brad to open the door but scrambled out and caught Lily in her arms. “You’re not supposed to run out the door like that,” she said.

  “But you didn’t get out. I was afraid you would leave.”

  He climbed out of the car. Seeing the two together and the love they shared kindled a desire for a family of his own. Kelsey swung Lily around and caught him watching them. Their gazes lingered, then Lily patted her cheek and Kelsey shifted her attention to the girl.

  When Elle laid down her demand that it was her or his job, he hadn’t given much thought about the family his choice would cost him. He was too busy nursing the wounds she had inflicted. But what if he’d chosen her over the job? His life might look a lot different, and he might even have that family he’d always wanted.

  It’s not too late. Elle was back in his life, and he’d thought once that she was everything he’d looked for in a life mate.

  Just then, Kelsey turned and smiled at him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Lily wiggled out of Kelsey’s arms and ran to him. “Come on, Mr. Brad,” she said, pulling on his hand. “Pawpaw Sam has our burgers ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Over Lily’s head, Kelsey’s dancing eyes met his again. With a start, he realized he had a problem. It wasn’t Elle he saw himself taking in his arms and kissing. It was Kelsey. Not good, Hollister. Not good. This was getting complicated, and he couldn’t let anything cloud his mind right now.