Buried Alive_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  “Mr. Norwood, where is her ex-husband now?” Hunter asked.

  Was he thinking Stanton Grayson could be the serial killer? Her muscles froze.

  Norwood shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him since the incident. I imagine he’s back in Connecticut. Why? Do you think he killed my little girl?”

  “I may need to contact him.” Hunter wrote something in his pad, and then looked up. “Were charges filed for battery?”

  “No. We made a deal. He promised to stay away from Janet if we didn’t press charges. As much as I hated him for hurting my daughter, he and I both understood his career would have been ruined if we had filed.”

  Norwood should be thinking more of his daughter and less about something bad happening to her abusive ex-husband.

  “And did he?” Hunter asked. “Stay away from her?”

  “As far as I know, he did.”

  Kerry believed Norwood wasn’t telling them the whole truth, especially in regards to his strange reason for protecting Stanton. “You mentioned Janet and you were estranged. What happened?” she jumped in. Seems like the assault would have brought them closer.

  His jaw hardened. He remained silent for so long, she wondered if he would answer.

  “Janet was a bright girl. She worked at a bonds desk at a large bank here in Tampa and did very well for the two years after her divorce from Stanton. As a matter of fact, that’s where she met her second husband, David Kopetski. He seemed like a real nice guy—at first. He was nothing like Stanton, I’d thought.” He loosened his tie. “Boy was I wrong.”

  “How so?” she said, keeping her tone soft.

  “Sharon started noticing the bruises on Janet’s arms, legs, and neck about five months into their marriage. Janet figured out long before my wife or I that David was as manipulative as her first husband. My daughter decided to leave before he seriously hurt her.” He hung his head and ran both hands over his head. “God, it sickens me. I should have helped her, should have seen how desperate she was.”

  “Sir?”

  “Instead of coming to me for the money to leave David, she embezzled the bank’s funds. She was desperate to escape the vicious cycle of abusive men and knew how much it would cost to start a new life someplace else.” He tunneled his fingers and touched the index fingers to his lips.

  Kerry could guess the result. “And she got caught.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that when you lost contact with your daughter?” Hunter asked.

  “I’m ashamed to say, yes.” He locked his gaze with Kerry. “I’ll never be able to tell her I’m sorry.” Norwood leaned back in his chair. His cheeks sagged. “You have to understand. I’m a lawyer. I was too embarrassed to let my clients or my cohorts know I had a daughter in prison. What kind of father would that have made me?” He dropped his head into his hands, and his back heaved. Mr. Norwood sat back and wiped the tears from his cheek. “I never should have turned my back on her.”

  Kerry agreed. Someone needed to protect Janet after Stanton hurt her. She wondered what information the ex-husband held over Mr. Norwood’s head.

  Norwood cleared his throat. “I knew the exact date and time when Janet was scheduled to be released from prison, but by then, she wouldn’t talk to either me or my wife. In fact, she demanded we stay away. When I didn’t hear from her after her release, I figured she was still mad at us and had moved on. My wife and I never even knew if Janet succeeded in divorcing him. When David Kopetski wouldn’t talk to us, we just figured Janet finally disappeared like she’d wanted to.”

  Poor Mr. Norwood. “That must have been tough.”

  “Deep in my heart,” he continued. “I knew something bad had happened to her.” His chin trembled. “Now I know why she never answered our calls or letters.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Norwood,” Kerry said. “If I could ask you one more question. Recently, Janet had a broken collarbone. Do you know how that happened?”

  His mouth dropped open. “A broken collarbone? No, I knew nothing about that. Perhaps she injured herself in prison.”

  Hunter kept writing. When he finished, he looked up. “We’ll check it out. Thank you for your time.” He handed Mr. Norwood a business card. “I put my cell phone number on the back in case you think of anything.”

  Kerry touched Hunter’s arm. “One more question if you don’t mind? Do you know the name of Janet’s dentist? I’d like to compare her dental charts with the X-rays of her mouth to be sure we have a match.”

  Mr. Norwood took a moment before he answered. “No, I’m sorry. There wouldn’t be two women with that tattoo, would there? It’s so unique. There’s no other boat with the name of Brandywine in the area. At least, not that I’ve seen.”

  “We want to be sure.”

  “Okay.” He checked the time. “I’ll contact my wife tomorrow morning—time zone differences—and see what she can tell us.”

  Hunter thanked him again for his help and led Kerry outside. The air was muggy and warm, but a refreshing spray from the driveway fountain blew over her face as they headed to the cruiser.

  “There’s something funny about that guy,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “It’s almost as if he’s in cahoots with his former son-in-law. He should have reported the abuse to the authorities. Do you think he had anything to do with Janet’s death?”

  “The father?”

  She wanted to strangle Hunter. “Yes, the father.”

  “Everyone is a suspect until proven innocent.”

  Good answer. “So now what do we do?”

  He glanced over at her. The moonlight reflected off his strong face.

  “I take you home.”

  “Oh.” She liked being with Hunter in search of the horrid person who killed these innocent women. Hunter seemed so in control, so safe, so comforting. “I appreciate you letting me come with you. I know it was against the rules.”

  The entire time they were interviewing Mr. Norwood, she’d completely forgotten about the angry caller.

  “You were a help,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Embarrassed by his unexpected compliment, she changed the subject. “What happens tomorrow? Are we going to follow up with Kopetski?”

  He opened the cruiser door for her and she slid in. Once she snapped on the seat belt, he leaned his head in close enough for her to kiss him—not that she would. It might be nice to taste his lips though. Just once. But not until she knew for sure he didn’t have a wife.

  Ask him, ask him. She wished the annoying person in her head would take a chill pill.

  “—check out Janet’s second husband. Alone. He might have been the last person to see her alive. He also might be dangerous.”

  Before she could remember what she’d asked him, Hunter clicked the door closed and raced around to the driver’s side. Once he was seated, Kerry broached a safer topic. “I believe I can help.” She flipped a strand of hair out of her face. “Let me rephrase that. I want to help, need to help with this case.”

  “You’re not with the department. I don’t bring civilians with me if I can help it.”

  “You said I was indirectly with the department since I work at the medical examiners office. You let me come here.”

  “That was different.” His response came without delay. “I didn’t want to argue with your grandfather. Besides we know nothing about this Kopetski guy. It’s too dangerous.”

  He had a point. “We knew nothing about Mr. Norwood either.” David Kopetski might be as dangerous as her angry caller. Hell, he might be the angry caller. “If you’re there, what harm could there be?”

  “Kerry, I won’t chance it. I can’t stop a bullet.”

  “O-kay. Can I make the call to the prison to see if Janet injured herself before her release?”

  His face relaxed. “That you can do.”

  He seemed focused on his driving, not saying another word for the next ten minutes, and the silence was making her crazy.

 
“Hunter?” He didn’t answer. Here goes. “It’s rather late. Isn’t your wife worried where you are?”

  The planes of his jaw tightened. “My wife is... dead.”

  “Oh.” The air pressed down on her, squeezing the life from her lungs. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  She coughed into the crux of her elbow. “Will you let me know what happens after you speak with Kopetski?” She kept her voice upbeat, though the embarrassment cut her to the core.

  Hunter glanced at her and smiled. Actually, smiled, and her pulse sped up. “Don’t worry. I promise to keep you in the loop if that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her body nearly floated off the seat. Hunter Markum was single. Not that she’d get seriously involved with him, but a fling might make her stay here more pleasant.

  You’re kidding yourself. Since when did you do one-night stands? Never. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start, right?

  His smile disappeared and changed into a frown. “I want to pick you up tomorrow morning, drive you to work, and then take you home.” He reached over and gently clasped her arm as he kept his gaze on the road. “No arguing on this point. I was serious when I said I didn’t want you out alone.”

  “Grandpa said he’d drive me.”

  “And give someone a chance to sneak into your house?”

  Her delightful daydream evaporated. “You think I’m in that much danger?” Her stomach twisted.

  “Why take a chance?”

  Having a personal bodyguard would give her peace of mind.

  Right. Peace of mind? Who was she kidding?

  “I’m beginning to think this Willie Wyble guy is a figment of Mr. DeMarco’s imagination,” Phil said as he pulled into the cemetery lot.

  He’d come here every day for the last week. No Willie Wyble.

  “Did you run his prints in AFIS?” Gina asked.

  Phil chuckled. “You’re really liking all this police stuff, aren’t you?”

  “I think it’s exciting.”

  She tucked her left leg under her butt and twisted toward him, making her skirt ride high on her thigh.

  Phil swallowed. “That so?”

  “Compared to teaching fourteen year olds about Alexander the Great for four hours a day, police work is like being in Disney World.”

  Boy, did she have a lot to learn. “Personally, I couldn’t stand history. Math and science were more my thing.” Phil cut the engine and jumped out in front of the cemetery building. The intense heat nearly melted his badge.

  Gina slid out and stretched, her breasts straining against her top. Man she was something else. He looked away. He didn’t need the distraction, and sure as hell didn’t need the trouble.

  Gina sidled up to him and ran a finger down his arm. “I bet if you’d been my student, you wouldn’t be so disdainful about the subject.”

  He wished she’d stop flirting. His defenses were already on shaky grounds. “You might be right.”

  She smiled. “Do you hear that?”

  Birds chirped, and car engines sounded behind them on the main road. “Hear what?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Without asking his permission, she rushed around to the side of the cemetery building where they held services. A moment later, she peeked her head back around and waved. “I see a tractor.”

  Don’t tell him their luck had changed. He raced next to her. “Where?”

  She pointed off to the right. “He went behind those trees a second ago.”

  Phil strained to hear the grumble of a far away engine. He looked down at her sandals. “Mind walking?”

  “No. Just make sure you keep up.”

  This time he laughed. Compared to Hunter, Gina was a breath of sunshine. She raced ahead and he had to jog to catch up.

  By the time they reached the tree line, sweat had stained his shirt. Even Gina looked like she was ready to drop, but to her credit, she didn’t complain.

  They neared the Caterpillar backhoe, which was a blend of yellow and rust. “When the cat’s away the mouse will play,” Phil said, recalling that DeMarco claimed Willie was only allowed to dig at night. It wouldn’t turn dark around here for another three hours. He wondered if Jeff Lamont, the cemetery owner, knew what Willie was up to right now.

  Phil waved his arms, but the driver ignored him. Phil practically had to jump in front of the scoop before the operator cut the engine.

  “Hey, you’re in my way, Mister.”

  “You Willie Wyble?” Phil asked.

  “Maybe. Who’s asking?”

  “Phil Tedesco.” He didn’t need to mention he was a cop. That might shut him up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Willie scrunched his hat on his head. “You here to buy worms?”

  “Wish I had the time to go fishing. No, I need to ask about Mr. DeMarco.”

  Willie looked around as though Demarco, or perhaps Mr. Lamont, were hiding behind the trees, spying on him. “What about him?”

  This was not the best setting to discuss whether Willie had anything to do with the theft of the body, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Are you digging this hole for one of his...customers?”

  Willie pressed his lips together.

  “Are you?”

  “You gonna tell Mr. Lamont?” Fear rolled off Willie.

  “No. I was just curious.” Phil shifted to the left to move out of the low-lying sun’s path. “Do you dig a lot of holes just for the hell of it?”

  “Sometimes. Usually late at night when no one can see me, but tonight I got another job. That’s why I’m digging now.”

  Phil bet Lamont would be pissed if he ever found out. “Doing what?”

  Willie’s lips curled up. “Not telling.”

  Gina moved up next to Phil. “Hi, Willie.”

  Willie studied Gina. “Who are you?”

  “Just a friend.” She took a step closer and put her hand on the tractor. Phil wanted to pull her away, to keep her from harm, but Willie didn’t move a muscle.

  “I don’t have any friends.” Willie’s lips turned into a frown. “Well, maybe one.”

  She glanced at Phil, and then back at Willie. “You said you like to dig holes. Did you dig any over at Westchase a couple of months ago?”

  “Maybe.”

  Phil was beginning to lose patience, and the hot, muggy evening wasn’t helping his mood. “Maybe yes, or maybe no, Willie?”

  Willie started the engine again and put the tractor into gear. Gina jumped out of the way. Phil shouted at him to stop. About a minute later, Willie cut the engine again. “I can’t go to prison. I have to be outside. Digging. People need the worms. I have to dig.”

  “Willie, you didn’t do anything wrong if that’s what worrying you,” Phil said. No law against lying.

  “Wrong?” He shook his head. “Willie didn’t do nothin’ wrong. I have to make a livin’ you know.”

  Gina looked like she was going to jump on the tractor next to Willie and beat the truth out of him. Phil took her hand and squeezed hard, and that one touch shot his mind off on a tangent. “Do you dig holes for people other than Mr. Lamont or Mr. DeMarco?” Phil kept his tone even despite the erotic thoughts running through him at the moment. He released her hand.

  “Sometimes.”

  “So you dig holes when people hire you. Do you know what goes in the hole after you dig it?” Phil wasn’t sure about his mental capacity.

  “Shit yeah, I do. A body.”

  Willie wasn’t all that dumb, despite the fact they were having this discussion at a cemetery. “Let’s get back to Westchase. Who did you dig the hole for?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Willie, do I need to subpoena you?”

  Willie ran his hand up and down the lever that controlled the scoop. “What’s subpoena?”

  “It means if I ask you a question, you have to tell the truth.” He didn’t add that Willie might have to go to court. He didn’t w
ant to scare the poor guy to death.

  “It was some foreigner.”

  “Mr. Hakeem?”

  Willie looked around again as if he expected the cemetery owner to catch him doing something he shouldn’t. Phil asked again. “Willie?”

  Willie turned on the ignition and began to dig again. Gina stepped forward, grabbed hold of the tractor and placed a foot on the step.

  10

  Phil drummed his fingers on the conference room table and leaned toward Gina. “You can’t just go off half-cocked around a person of interest.”

  His head pounded with what if scenarios. What if Willie had harmed Gina? What if Willie had run them over? God. He’d given her free reign for a moment, and she’d abused the power.

  Gina leaned back and rubbed her eyes. “You keep saying that. Get over it. Nothing happened.”

  “This time. Willie Wyble could have had a gun.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “He was harmless. If he’d been armed, he would have shot you on sight.”

  “Me? You’re the one who tried to sit next to him. What were you thinking?” His voice shook.

  “I told you in the car. I was trying to extract more information from him. Ever heard the phrase, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Whatever. I’m fine. You’re fine.”

  He’d confiscated one of the rooms at the station for some place quiet while they searched for Mr. Hakeem’s photo in the police logs and make phone calls to all the Hakeems. Some quiet.

  She pulled the phone book closer to her. “I thought you wanted me to continue calling.”

  “I do. I also want you to admit what you did was stupid.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry, but if you hadn’t pulled me from the tractor, we would have learned something.”

  “It’s not how we do it here.” Phil forced calm into his tone.

  “Whatever.” Gina opened the book, thumbed through half the pages, grunted and slammed the book closed. “We’ll never find this guy. There are a million Hakeems in here.”