Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  He nodded. “Okay, that shouldn’t take three hours. What’s next?”

  She turned and pinned him with a hard stare. “Really? You want a minute by minute accounting of my time?”

  Heat shot up his neck, burning even the tips of his ears. “If I know what you’re doing, I can focus on interviewing the man at Coon Creek.”

  Her eyes softened, blending with the jade-green sweater.

  “Like I said before, I thought I’d check the employee records and see if anyone lists computer skills on their résumé. You should be back by then. If you’re not, I’ll work on the circus.”

  “That sounds safe enough. Just keep your bodyguard with you at all times. And we’ll be texting back and forth.” He came around and opened her door, offering his hand. The smile she gave him tripped his heart.

  He was in trouble. And he’d broken a major rule. Somehow, some way, Kelsey Allen had become more than the target of a murderer, and that was not good. At least until he caught the killer.

  “Are you all right?” Kelsey asked.

  “Um, yeah.” Her full lips, red like ripe strawberries, drew his attention. He suddenly wanted to kiss them. Not really suddenly—he’d been thinking about kissing her all morning now.

  “Well, you look worried. I’ll be fine while you’re gone.”

  He snapped his attention back. What was he thinking? He was charged with protecting Kelsey, not kissing her. “When this is over, would you go out with me? You know, like a real date?”

  “What?” Pink flooded her face.

  Brad could not believe he’d just said that, but it was as though he had no control over his mouth. And now he’d embarrassed her. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what I—”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes?” His heart dipped. “But you seemed—”

  “You surprised me, that’s all.”

  He couldn’t stop the silly grin that spread over his face. “Okay.”

  Then he remembered Elle, and his excitement cooled. What was wrong with him? Men who strung women along always disgusted him. But which woman was he stringing along?

  After Brad left her with the bodyguard, he walked back to his car, and by the time he met Rachel, reality had set in again. Not only did he have to make a decision about Elle, but thinking of Kelsey as the desirable woman she was could get them both killed. Kinda late to have those thoughts, buddy boy. He had to get his mind back in the game.

  “You want to ride with me?” Rachel asked.

  “That makes no sense,” he said. “Your car is parked in the garage and mine is ready to go.”

  She stared him down. “Who stole your toys this morning?”

  “Just get in.” He sighed. “Sorry. I don’t look forward to driving to Coon Creek . . . and I guess this case is getting to me.”

  She slid into the passenger’s side and fastened her seat belt. “He’s bound to make a mistake.”

  Brad pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of the interstate. “He hasn’t so far. I hope this isn’t a wild goose chase we’re going on today.”

  “Junior Coleman is the only one on Paul Carter’s list we have left to interview. I checked him out this morning and he’s clean—not even a traffic ticket in the past ten years. Transferred to the job at Coon Creek two years ago. As far as I can tell, Facebook is the only social media he does—no Twitter or Pinterest or Instagram page. My gut says he’s not the one, but I hope he can provide insight on the other people on the list.”

  Brad hoped so too.

  45

  “YOU SEEM HAPPIER TODAY, MS. ALLEN,” her bodyguard said. “I like that tune you’re humming. What is it?”

  Kelsey realized she’d been humming the song running through her head, and she ducked her head. “Just a song I heard a few years ago.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see you more relaxed,” he said.

  “Why, thank you, Phillip.” She keyed in the code. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with such a boring person.”

  “The more boring the better,” he said with a laugh.

  She liked the young man guarding her and realized she knew nothing about him. Looking at him, she’d guess he was about thirty. “Are you married?” Kelsey automatically glanced at his ring finger. That would have been an easy answer if she’d only looked.

  “Yes, ma’am. We have a little one on the way.”

  Her heart melted. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

  Would she ever have a little one on the way? At thirty-five, she didn’t have a lot of time left. But no need dwelling on something she had no control over. So why did she think of Brad? She shook the thought off and focused on Phillip. “Your first?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And before you ask, we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl. My wife wanted to wait and find out when the baby’s born.”

  “Some women prefer it that way.” Not her. She would want to know as early as possible so that she could decorate her baby’s room and buy clothes. Brad would make a good father—she’d seen him with Lily. Kelsey brought herself up short again. Reality check, girl. There was a little thing about having a husband before she could think about a baby, and even if she and Brad dated, who was to say what their future held. There was always Elle to consider, and she had history with him.

  “I better get to work,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable on the sofa there.”

  Kelsey booted up her computer. If she didn’t find out who this killer was, she wouldn’t have a future. Once the computer was up and running, she ran the application she’d installed after he hacked into her system. It wasn’t designed to stop an attack but to secretly track the program he’d loaded onto her computer when she’d opened his email, logging every time he accessed the program, all the while tracking his activity.

  Her heart paused. He’d logged in three hours ago. She clamped her fist tight. This time she would track the fox back to his lair with the IP address the new program captured. The last time, he’d erased all signs that he’d been in her computer other than the photo of Lily. This time the program made it appear to him that he’d erased his tracks again, but had in fact captured every keystroke he made.

  With a few clicks, she was at his router, and the program was requesting a password. Kelsey switched over to a Linux drive and used a brute force application to crack the password.

  Suddenly her screen went black and she dropped her head. Busted. She rebooted. But there was no need to try and get in again. The hacker was smarter than she’d given him credit for. He had his system rigged to shut down if brute force was attempted.

  This guy was top notch. Could it be Jackson? Her gut said it was someone who could keep tabs on her at the museum. She shook her head. It was hard to believe the head of security was trying to kill her. Besides, he didn’t know that much about computers—it was why he wanted to hire her.

  Kelsey had noticed Julie was fairly competent when it came to computers.

  She logged into the museum’s system and then into the employee files to see if any of the employees listed computer skills on their profiles. First she looked through the ones in the folder she’d created. No luck. Then she ran a query for computer skills and received ten hits.

  One by one she reviewed their files. When the ninth one popped up on her screen, she blinked. Oh wow! This guy had all types of certifications, three in computer networking alone. Thunder rumbled as she reached for her phone and called Brad.

  “Find something?” he asked when he answered.

  “Yeah. Mark Tomlinson says he doesn’t know anything about computers other than what he has to know for the job. But his résumé says otherwise.”

  “Really. We’re about half an hour away from the science center. Shouldn’t take long to interview our guy and an hour to return. Stay away from Mark until I can get back.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “I’m serious, Kelsey.”

  “Me too. I promise, I’ll stay right here in my office with Phillip and work on th
e circus. And it sounds like we’re in for a storm, so you be careful driving.”

  Was it possible it was Mark? The guy was a grouch, but a murderer? Her heart sank. What if the real killer had put that in Mark’s personnel file? As she pocketed her phone, the door opened.

  “Good morning,” Jackson said when he entered the room, then nodded to Phillip. “Take a break, would you?”

  “I’m fine,” Phillip said.

  Jackson lifted his eyebrows. “I’d like to discuss something in private with Ms. Allen. And when we finish, I thought we might get a cup of coffee in the café.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After Phillip left, Kelsey waited.

  “Hold on a sec. Before I forget, let me get something.” He opened the door and rolled an oversized utility cart into the room. “I’m taking the employee records back to storage. My men have gone through each and every one. If you’re finished with the ones you have, I’ll add them to these.”

  “I don’t have any—all my searches have been online,” she said.

  “Oh, I thought you had several boxes of files. Sorry, I’ll get this out of your way in a minute.” He sat in the chair beside her desk. “So, have you given any more thought to becoming a partner?”

  “Not really. I’ve had way too much else on my mind.”

  “I figured as much but thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask, and encourage you to consider my offer. I really believe you’d bring a lot to the company.”

  His words brought a glow to her heart. For a second she could see her name on their door. “Thank you. Are you going to keep the name Rutherford Security?”

  “I have mixed feelings about that. Our reputation is built on the Rutherford name, but I wouldn’t mind seeing our names in the title.”

  If she took his offer, neither would she. Kelsey looked him over. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so dressed up, not since the fundraiser.”

  He buttoned his suit coat. “I’m leaving for a meeting with the mayor as soon as I deliver these files.”

  She tilted her head, looking up at him. “Before you go, did you know Mark was a computer expert?”

  “Mark? Sure. He’s a gamer. I’ve heard Robert complain about all the time he spends on it.”

  “You’re kidding. He told me he knew next to nothing about computers.”

  “He must have just been pulling your leg,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “He cut his teeth on the DOS program.” He glanced at his phone. “My ringer is off and I have three calls.” He dialed a number. “What do you need?” His eyes widened. “What? How could that have happened?”

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  He looked at her and shook his head. “I’ll be right there.” He pocketed his phone and turned to her, his face pale. “Someone has taken your niece.”

  Her stomach dropped to her knees. No! This can’t be happening. “How?”

  “They were at the mall. She was standing by her mother one minute and gone the next.”

  “Where was their bodyguard?”

  “He became ill after they stopped in the food court for coffee and doughnuts.” He stood. “I’ll take you there in my car.”

  She grabbed her cell phone and her breath caught. Why hadn’t Sabra called if someone took Lily? Kelsey would have been the first person she would have reached out to. And those supposed calls Jackson had received . . .

  Kelsey jerked her head toward him. He hadn’t moved and there was barely room between him and the crate for her to pass. He turned and their gazes collided.

  Time stopped. She was no longer in her office but hanging outside the building adjacent to the Allen Auto Parts building, staring through a window at a man. A man with silver hair. The flash of white. Then like the snap of a finger, she was back at the museum, and the man from Thursday night stood between her and the door. She tried to scream, but her vocal cords were frozen.

  Kelsey sprang into action, barreling into him. But he didn’t go down. Something pricked her neck, like a bee sting. She raised her hand to rub her neck, but the room swirled and the phone tumbled out of her hand.

  Jackson moved beside her, and suddenly she was spiraling down a tunnel into darkness.

  46

  IMAGES SWEPT THROUGH KELSEY’S MIND like a slide show. A little girl and a man. It wasn’t Lily, though. Then her dad was flipping pancakes and smiling into the camera . . . He blew her a kiss. I love you, Kelseygirl.

  Gradually the images faded, and she was swimming underwater. The surface was so close. With a strong kick, she pushed through and broke through the top, and she took a shuddering breath. Kelsey was lying on something hard. A wooden floor, maybe? But where?

  Sitting up was impossible—her hands were confined behind her back. She blinked and opened her eyes, but she may as well have kept them closed, for all the good it did. If she could put her hand in front of her face, she wouldn’t be able to see it.

  “You really should have stayed away from my computer. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” He gave a hollow laugh. “You should have stuck to the museum’s employee files.”

  She recognized Jackson’s disembodied voice from somewhere behind her. How could she not have known?

  “You didn’t get any phone calls.” She sounded weak, and if her heart pumped any harder, it would come through her chest. “And Lily hasn’t been kidnapped.”

  “I wanted to get you out of the building, but you didn’t cooperate, did you? But it still worked out.”

  If only her head would clear. She pulled against whatever bound her hands, but there was no give. Keep him talking. “You can’t get away with this. Brad will know you did it.”

  “I’ll get away with it.” His voice was so certain. “And then life can go back to normal.”

  His life, maybe. He muttered something, but she couldn’t catch the words. “Where are we?”

  “Somewhere you’ll never escape from.”

  As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, a pinpoint of light drew her attention. A boarded window, maybe? Her eyes drooped and she shook her head, trying to keep herself awake. They had to be somewhere inside the museum, probably in the attic, where odds and ends were stored and well away from any traffic. From the muted sounds of Jackson’s voice, the room was soundproofed . . . or full. At least a bit of air-conditioning flowed into the room. She wouldn’t die of heatstroke.

  “Why did you kill my father?”

  “I didn’t. No more talking.”

  “Wait! If you didn’t kill him, what’s this all about?”

  A burst of light and then the closing of a door answered her.

  Her eyelids grew heavier and Kelsey fought to stay awake, but it was no use. Whatever Jackson had injected into her neck was stronger than she was.

  Brad pulled up to the stop sign. If his memory was right, they turned left and then immediately right into the drive for the center.

  “Do you even know where you are?” Rachel asked.

  “I think so.”

  “I told you to use the GPS.”

  “I don’t think it’ll work here.” He checked his phone. “No signal. Wait—there’s the sign.” Relieved, he followed the arrows and pulled in front of a long building.

  “This is the Coon Creek Science Center?” Rachel asked as she climbed out of the car.

  Brad scanned the area that included two plank buildings set among the woods. Scattered around were picnic tables that he remembered sitting at as a kid and washing the mud away from the fossils he’d found. Didn’t look a bit different. “It’s a working site,” he said and approached the main building.

  Inside, a man in shorts walked toward them. Brad introduced himself and showed his badge. “This is Detective Sloan and we’re looking for Junior Coleman.”

  “He’s down at the site. I’m Luther McCoy. Is he in trouble?”

  “I hope not. It has to do with his time at the Pink Palace Museum.”

  “I’ve known Junior a long time. He grew up around here.”
>
  “Do you know if he’s good with a computer?” Rachel asked.

  “Junior? Uh, no,” McCoy said, laughing. “I have to put his time in every week. Come on, and I’ll take you to the creek where’s he’s working—he’s getting ready for the kids who will arrive at noon.”

  After a short hike, they found Junior at the creek, wearing cutoff overalls and knee-deep in mud with a shovel in his hands. When they approached, he pushed the ball cap he was wearing to the back of his head.

  “Howdy,” he said. “Something I can help you with?”

  Again, they introduced themselves, and Brad said, “We’re investigating the murder of Paul Carter and—”

  “I knowed it!” he crowed, climbing out of the creek bed. “Told my wife all those years ago that Mr. Paul never ran off with those things. He was a good man. What can I do to help you?”

  Brad took a step back as the giant of a man crossed the grass toward them. “How long did you work at the museum?”

  “Seems like all my life.” He scratched his head. “Went to work there in maintenance when I was eighteen, and I’m forty-eight now.”

  Thirty years. “Do you remember Mark Tomlinson?”

  “He was my boss the last few years. Another fine man. Took over his family when his dad died and put half his brothers through college, including the spoiled one.”

  “Spoiled one?” Rachel said.

  “The museum director. Can’t abide that man. He’s the reason I transferred here to the science center. That, plus my wife wanted to move back home.”

  “There were several of you working at the museum when Paul Carter went missing and who are still connected to it.” Brad rattled off the list of names. “Can you tell me anything about any of them?”

  “Julie was a cute little thing back then. Still is, or was, two years ago. She and Jackson had a thing years ago. I think he’s seeing that Helen Peterson now, though. They try to keep it quiet, but like most folks, they don’t see janitors as real people.”

  Julie and Jackson and then Helen and Jackson. Huh. Brad never would have guessed. “Of the people I’ve mentioned, who would have the best computer skills?”