Dead, Without a Stone to Tell It
Page 26
Matt felt warmed by a nasty satisfaction over Bradford’s dilemma. “By that point decomposition would have been progressing nicely. This couldn’t have gone worse for him if we’d planned it, could it?”
Leigh smiled back with the same apparent satisfaction. “Not at all. Anyway, that took him to last Wednesday morning when we caught him trying to bury the body solo. Once that went south on him and he got away from us, he really went after Hershey.”
Paul gave a harsh laugh. “He must have been pretty pissed at that point.”
“Very. He’d been seen, he’d lost his latest kill, and his burial ground had been discovered. He knew at that point that he had a very good chance of being caught because of evidence that might be found on any of the remains.”
“And because of the fast ID that you’d be able to do on the newest victim. That was going to mean a much more specific Missing Persons search,” Kiko said.
“It was all crashing down on him,” Leigh agreed. “But as far as he was concerned, the most important thing he needed to do was to make John Hershey pay for all the damage he’d caused and for daring to escape.” She lightly touched Matt’s arm. “Do you remember what you told me about Orcus being the punisher of broken oaths? Well, he certainly took that role seriously based on what he did to John. The only definite location he had for Hershey was his house, so Bradford bet everything that he’d be back at some point. He broke in and holed up there to wait. On Saturday, Hershey took the chance of coming back for some personal items that he’d need for a long-term escape, and Bradford had him.”
Matt’s gaze flicked to Leigh to find her eyes steady on him. “Until we interrupted him,” he said in a flatly unemotional tone.
“But you lost him there too,” Paul said.
“Yes,” Leigh agreed. “In his arrogance, I think he thought he could get away with it. That if he laid low, as long as a connection could not be made back to him, he might be able to regroup and start it all again later.”
“That is damned cocky,” Paul growled.
“He’d need a new burial ground,” Kiko suggested. “He’d have to change his setup.”
“All of which he’d have been happy to do. Once he got past the anger, think of the satisfaction he would have felt at having stumped the police again. Too bad that didn’t happen.” She picked up her coffee again, absently swirling the liquid in the cup. “So that’s where we are at this point. The official announcement about Bradford’s arrest will be made tonight, and, once he’s deemed fit enough, he’ll be transferred to a state holding facility to await arraignment. I highly doubt that bail will be set in this case, considering that we’re talking about ten deaths now that we know about Luke Simons. Too great a flight risk.” She abruptly straightened, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh! I almost forgot this part. Crime Scene Services called me today after we’d finished with Bradford. They were collecting evidence at the fallout shelter. They found a stash in one of the back rooms—a box that had every purse and wallet of all of the victims as well as all the clothing from the women. Needless to say, this is going to speed up the ID process significantly.”
“It will be nice to put some names to our victims, instead of numbers,” Kiko said.
“He removed all identification from the men before placing them in the grave?” Juka asked.
“That’s our guess. If the victims were found, he wanted to make any potential ID as hard as possible. He felt his identity was protected as long as the victims were unknown or, preferably, undiscovered.”
“So that’s it? Now all that’s left is building such an airtight case that there’s no chance of him getting away?” Paul asked.
“Yes,” Leigh said. “And that’s where I need you guys. You have a lot of remains to catalog. And that evidence is going to be crucial. I don’t want any nasty surprises. I want this to be open and shut. And for that I need all of you.”
“You’ve got us,” Matt said. “No worries there.”
“Yeah.” Paul grinned. “Remember, we’re your team? We’re going to connect every one of his weapons to every injury we’ve recorded and we’re going to nail this bastard’s ass to the wall.” Paul picked up his coffee cup and toasted the group with it. “To teamwork.”
Five paper coffee cups came together over the center of the table.
EPILOGUE
Tuesday, 7:22 P.M.
Essex Police Department
Essex, Massachusetts
Leigh was just leaving the ladies’ restroom in the Essex Police Department, makeup bag in hand and her bruise covered as best she could manage with foundation and powder, when one of the Essex officers rushed up to her.
“Trooper Abbott, there’s a man outside with the media group who he says he wants to see you. A Dr. Lowell?”
Leigh’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Please, let him through, Officer. He’s part of my team on this case.”
As the officer hurried away, Leigh made her way through the maze of desks in the bullpen. She found the navy blazer she left draped over the back of one of the chairs and was just pulling it on as Matt entered the room.
“Hey.”
She shrugged her shoulders settling the jacket. “What are you doing up here?”
“Ouch. Nice to see you too.” At her pointed look, he chuckled. “I just came to wish you good luck. And to let you know the students and I drew up a schedule for examining the rest of the remains. I told them to take tomorrow off to sleep and to zone out, but then they’re back in on Thursday and we think we can have everything wrapped up for you inside of a week and a half. Two weeks tops. We’ll make sure both you and the ADA get the full report.”
Leigh hadn’t missed his comment about only the students taking tomorrow off. “What about you? You’ve had a harder time of it than they have. Are you going to take tomorrow off?”
“Are you?” he retorted pointedly.
He had her there. “No.”
“Didn’t think so. Me either then. I may give myself a break and ease back a bit on Saturday and Sunday though. I think Dad’s forgotten what I look like, he’s seen so little of me. It would be nice to take him out on the Charles if the weather cooperates.”
She smiled. “You could use the break. We all could.” She heard voices and looked toward the far side of the room. Detective Lieutenant Harper, District Attorney Aaron Saxon, and his press officer Sharon Collins had all stepped into the bullpen. In response to Detective Lieutenant Harper’s glance in her direction, Leigh raised one hand in acknowledgment.
“They must be ready for us.” She turned back to Matt. “So … once this is all done, you’re back to the charnel house at the Old North Church? That’s going to be a nice change of pace after all this.”
“I never thought I’d say it, but it’s going to be a bit dull after the past week,” Matt said wryly.
Leigh gave a short, cynical laugh. “Maybe dull’s not a bad thing.” Her name was called, drawing her attention back across the room. “Sorry, it looks like we’re about to get started. Are you going to stay?”
“For the press conference? Nah … this is your area, not mine. I don’t do the spotlight.”
Leigh raised a single eyebrow at him. “Newsflash, Dr. Lowell. Neither do I.”
“You’re going to do it this time apparently whether you like it or not.” Matt opened his mouth as if to say something else, and then snapped it closed again.
Leigh stared at him. “What? Have I forgotten something that I’ll need for this?”
“No, no … it’s nothing case related.” He met her eyes and she saw something shift in his gaze—a resolution being made. He suddenly took a step closer, his voice dropping low so the small knot of people on the other side of the room couldn’t hear him. “Have dinner with me Friday night.”
One brow rose in interest. “Dinner?”
“Dinner. No case, no students, no bones, no blood. Just … dinner.”
It amused her that he looked a bit anxious. “I’d like
that. It would certainly be a nice change after the last week. I’ll be wrapping up the details of this case over the next few days, but by then I think they’ll let me have an evening off.”
A slow grin split his face. Leigh accurately read his expression of relief and realized that this, not his scientific schedule and report, had been the real reason for his trip to the Essex coast.
He stepped forward again, crowding her slightly, but she didn’t move, allowing him into her space. “Do you like Italian? There’s this great little Italian place in the Back Bay that stocks the best wines. I know the owner. He’ll give us a nice quiet table in a dark corner.”
Her smile spread to match his. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll call you and we can set up—” She stopped abruptly, hearing her name called again. “Damn. Time to start. I hate these things.” She stepped back and tugged on the lapels of her blazer with uncharacteristic nervousness. “Do I look okay?”
The heat that filled his eyes caught her off guard, as did the hand that rose to feather the lightest of touches over the shadow that marred her jaw even through the makeup. “Beautiful,” he said huskily. Then his hand dropped and he stepped back. When he spoke again, his tone was matter of fact and she found that she preferred the previous intimacy. “Knock ’em dead, Trooper.” Turning, he strode from the room.
Her eyes stayed fixed on him as he disappeared through the doorway and she thought about dinner with him. Possibilities, she thought. Definite possibilities.
Then she turned to join the legal and law enforcement team as, together, they walked out the front door of the police department to face the media throng that waited for them.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
A scientist specializing in infectious diseases, Jen J. Danna works as part of a dynamic research group at a cutting-edge Canadian university. However, her true passion lies in indulging her love of the mysterious through her writing. Together with her partner, Ann Vanderlaan, a retired research scientist herself, she crafts suspenseful crime fiction with a realistic scientific edge.
Ann lives near Austin, Texas, with her three rescued pit bull companions. Jen lives near Toronto, Ontario, with her husband and two daughters, and is a member of the Crime Writers of Canada. You can reach her at jenjdanna@gmail.com or through her website and blog at www.jenjdanna.com.