Laney’s cheeks tinged pink, but she didn’t hesitate to jump right in and help. As Ryan pulled drinking glasses out of the cupboard, he couldn’t help thinking how it felt like old times. Jenna was the only one missing. If she could see them from heaven, she’d be smiling right now.
Mary scooped the potatoes into a large blue bowl and placed them at the center of the table as Laney laid out the silverware. “How’s your mother, honey?”
“She’s recovering. Honestly, as hard as it is, I think this could end up being positive for her. A social worker is going to help me get her into a treatment program.”
Ryan set the glasses down on the table, weaving between the two women. He hadn’t enjoyed being at home this much in a long time.
His mother reached for Laney’s hand. “We’ll help out any way we can. I know you’ll probably need to get back home eventually.”
Back to DC. The thought felt like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head. Not that it was a surprise—he knew she couldn’t stay here. Wouldn’t. And, he reminded himself, that was a good thing.
Laney was like a butterfly who’d escaped her chrysalis to become something bigger and more beautiful. Trying to trap her here again would only crush her wings.
Sometimes over the past ten years, he’d wondered what would’ve happened if she’d stayed. Or if he’d tracked her down at Indiana University that first year after she left. Would she have resented him for the rest of their lives? Things had worked out for the best, and even though he hadn’t succeeded at moving on, it didn’t mean anything needed to change.
“Thanks, Mary.” Laney set down a stack of plates and accepted a hug from his mother. He turned away, retreating deeper into the kitchen to give the women a moment without him hovering nearby.
As he leaned against the counter, his phone buzzed. It was a text from Hannah at the station. She’d been looking into the other baggage handlers who’d worked Laney’s flights. She had three more names for him—Karen Martin, Eddie Reynolds and Dennis Taber. Two lived and worked up in Indianapolis, but Dennis Taber had been Lawrence Brown’s coworker in the surveillance footage.
He wrote a quick response, telling her to pass along the Indy suspects to a detective he knew in that precinct. As for Dennis Taber... Sarah and Marty would help decide if he deserved their attention.
A soft click told him the door from the garage had opened, and a moment later his father walked into the kitchen. “Smells great in here. Did I miss dinner?”
Ryan pocketed his phone. “Hey, Pop, just in time.”
Jim Mitchell threw his keys into a basket on the counter and ran a hand over his short hair. He glanced at the women in the breakfast nook, then asked in a low voice, “What did Laney learn about the remains?”
Right, that. He let out a sigh. “Bone sizes and growth indicate a female, probably in her late teens. Time of death between eight and twelve years ago.”
Jim’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Did you tell your mother?”
“No.” He held up a hand. “Remember, it was only a preliminary exam. She can’t say for sure until the bones are back in her lab and they compare the dental records.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Hey, I’m thinking about heading back into work tonight to see what evidence they’ve processed from the trailer park. Do you think you could make sure she stays safe?” He glanced back at Laney, whose dark hair bounced around her ears as she bent over to lay a fork beside one of the plates. Somehow she’d gotten only more beautiful with time.
“She’ll be safe with us, son.”
His mother walked back into the kitchen, greeted Jim with a kiss and pulled the roast out of the oven. The glorious smell of beef and onions made Ryan’s mouth water. “Go have a seat, you two. Time to eat.”
They’d replaced the old table with one that sat four, and Ryan took a seat between his mother and Laney, opposite his father. Jim bowed his head to say the blessing, but Mary interrupted, “Can we hold hands for grace? It’s so nice to have Laney back with us.”
Obligingly, he offered Laney his hand, holding his breath for a moment as he waited to see if she’d take it. But of course she wouldn’t want to hurt his mother, so she slid her petite hand into his—still a perfect fit. He ignored the warm feeling coursing through his insides. Not helpful.
As soon as his father finished praying, she pulled her hand away so fast she nearly knocked over her water glass.
“Tell us what you’ve been doing with yourself all these years, Laney,” Jim said as he scooped potatoes onto his plate.
Her pale cheeks had never been able to hide a blush. She’d always been reluctant to talk about herself, and this awkward situation certainly hadn’t improved things.
“We’ve had a long day, Dad,” he intervened. “She might want to relax instead of sharing her life story.”
The funny thing was, her life story would’ve included him for more than half of it. They’d met in first grade when their desks had been paired together. Ryan was still convinced the teacher had thought she’d be keeping him out of trouble by seating him with a girl. Instead, they’d started scheming practical jokes before the first month was out.
“No, it’s okay.” Laney smiled, though he could see the weariness edging her eyes. “It’s not that exciting, really. Four years of undergrad. Four years for my PhD. Then the Smithsonian hired me two years ago. If I can impress them enough, they might keep me on in a permanent position.”
“Do you like living in DC?” Mary asked.
Laney pushed around the food on her plate with her fork. “I like...having my own place. And a prestigious job in a profession I love. It’s nice to have that sense of security.”
She didn’t mean it as a slight against him, of course, but Ryan couldn’t help wishing he could’ve been the one to provide her that sense of security. How often he’d wanted to rescue her from her life here yet been powerless to do so.
And now that he could be there for her, they could never go back.
Laney cleared her throat. “What’s been happening here? Mom shared on Facebook they expanded the animal shelter?”
Changing the subject—a classic Laney trick. She knew his mother well. Mary latched onto the new topic with ardor, especially as she’d served as a “foster mom” for several litters of kittens and stray puppies over the years.
By the time dinner ended and they’d cleaned up the dishes, the sun’s dying rays shaded his parents’ back deck in hues of pink and orange and purple. He needed to get going, but watching Laney wander out to the deck alone tugged at his heart to follow.
His parents migrated out of the kitchen and into the living room, leaving him space to decide. As if there ever was a choice when it came to Laney.
She stood overlooking the backyard, where the green grass of his parents’ large lot rolled down into thick woods and then eventually into another neighborhood, but the summer foliage blocked any other sign of humanity. Even the neighbors’ houses weren’t visible from back here.
He stood beside her, bracing both hands on the railing, close enough to sense her presence but not invade her space. She glanced up at him, offering a tiny smile. Cicadas hummed in the trees, and the air held that sultry, earthy smell of a late-summer night.
There were so many things he wanted to ask her—why did you leave? Was it because of Jenna? Us?
The rift between them felt wider than ever. As if her being back here and yet being so far away still meant they could never reconnect. God could redeem broken relationships, but some things were better left unresolved, weren’t they?
So instead of letting out the thoughts burning in his heart, Ryan stared down at his hands. “I’m going to run downtown for a couple hours. See what they found at your mother’s trailer.” The words stuck in his throat like putty, as if his body were subconsciously rebelling against his choic
es. Tough.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, you stay here and rest. You need some sleep.”
“All right. Thanks, Ryan.” She smiled again, but her eyes still held that same weariness. Or was it unhappiness? Did being around him make her sad? Or maybe it was being back here in this mess and facing all the things she’d left.
He wished he could pull her into a long embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest as he held one hand against her head. But no matter how appealing that image was, he wasn’t stupid enough to act on it.
No, Laney had made it clear Ryan wasn’t what she needed anymore.
So, he ignored the silent plea of his heart and headed back to the one thing he’d always been able to count on—work.
NINE
The police station was quieter at night, a fact Ryan had always appreciated. Occasionally an officer investigating a case worked late, but usually only the night patrol officers were here. The city didn’t pay overtime, so any detective work invested off-hours came purely from the generosity of their hearts. It had been hard to swallow at first—heading home to relax when so many things were left undone. But if he burned out, then even fewer crimes would be solved.
The evidence from Kim Hamilton’s trailer had already been cataloged and stored in the evidence room. Ryan pulled up the report on his computer, scanning the list of items collected and notes made by the officers at the scene. Blood samples from the floor and the wall had been collected, though he had no doubt they’d match Laney’s mother. No fingerprints on any of the surfaces, but that wasn’t a surprise either. Laney said the man had been wearing gloves.
Kim Hamilton had let the intruder in through the front door, so there wasn’t any evidence of forced entry. The culprit had apparently left the same way, then lay in wait for Laney to arrive.
The crime scene unit had also created a cast of one of the tire tracks from the getaway vehicle. Despite the dusty conditions, enough of an imprint had remained to get a partial one. With no DNA evidence, that truck could be a key piece of evidence.
Overall, though, there wasn’t much to go on. And while he was convinced the airport bomber and the assailant on Kim Hamilton were one and the same, no proof could point him in the right direction.
And did any of this tie in with Lawrence Brown or Ronald Wilson?
He drummed his fingers on the desk for a long moment, debating what to do next. Probably going home to bed was the wisest choice, but he couldn’t sleep right now, not with a threat to Laney’s life on the loose.
What if he called the state prison system to check on Ronald Wilson? Wilson hadn’t killed Jenna, but he might know something about the latest disappearance. Maybe the prison warden would know if he’d had new outside contact lately or if there’d been any suspicious activity.
It was late, but Ryan could at least leave the man a message. He pulled up Wilson’s file, verified the name of the correctional facility and found the contact information for the warden. The phone rang a couple of times before voice mail picked up. He left a quick message, then hung up.
Probably time to give this case some space on his corkboard. After shuffling some papers to create a blank corner, he pinned up pictures of the hotel bombing and Kim Hamilton’s trailer. Then the missing girl, just in case her disappearance was linked, and two cold cases—Jenna and the girl who’d disappeared a year afterward. His sister smiled at him from her senior picture, her dark hair shiny and thick against brown skin. Likely she would’ve been married by now, bringing a ragtag bunch of little nieces and nephews into the station to visit him.
He swallowed. Not sure he’d be able to keep her picture up there for long.
The phone rang when he was on the brink of heading home. Caller ID showed it was from Michigan City. The warden already?
“Sergeant Ryan Mitchell,” he said as he answered.
“Mitchell, this is Bob Butler, warden at Indiana State Prison. I’m returning your call about Ronald Wilson.”
“Excellent.” If the warden had gotten back this fast, maybe he had something helpful to add to this case.
“Wilson’s dead. He was attacked in the yard and beaten to death two months ago.”
Two months...well before the college student disappeared or these attacks on Laney. Guess that confirmed Wilson wasn’t involved.
“Okay, thanks.” Ryan hung up the phone and sat staring at the corkboard. At Jenna and another innocent teen girl, this one with blond hair and a dental retainer across her smile. And at missing student Madison Smith, whose mother had broken down weeping at the police station.
If Ronald Wilson wasn’t responsible, who was?
* * *
Laney hated the hollow feeling that had settled inside her chest. Being here with Ryan’s family only painted a sharp contrast with the way things used to be back when she and Ryan had been inseparable and Jenna was her other best friend. Funny how, as twins, they’d been so different and yet Laney had loved them each dearly. Their whole family had filled the gap for everything that had been missing in her life—stability, parents, a sister, a boyfriend who loved her.
Until it was gone.
She stared out over the deck railing. Sometimes people blamed God for the bad things that happened in their lives, but in this case, Laney knew better. It was all her fault. But no amount of regret could change the choices she’d made.
So instead of dwelling on it, she needed to make the most of the few days she had to help Ryan and his family and then get back to her own life. She patted her hands lightly on the railing a couple of times before heading through the slider and into the house. Earlier in the day, Ryan had emailed her the case files for Jenna, the other cold case from a year later and those referencing Wilson’s victims. Maybe if she looked them over before bed, she’d discover some new connection or angle to pursue.
Mary and Jim Mitchell sat in the living room, heads bent together over what looked like a crossword puzzle. How many years had they been married now? Must be going on thirty or even more. She couldn’t recall how old they’d been when the twins were born.
Maybe that kind of love wasn’t meant for everyone to find. She’d learned to be content living alone—maybe that was the life God had for her, not the beautiful relationship of Ryan’s parents, which time had refined and polished into pure gold. Her heart twinged uncomfortably at the thought, because the one man she’d ever envisioned growing old with was definitely out of the question.
Mary waved her over as she passed through the room. “Come join us, Laney. We need help with 37 Down—‘Country that gave up its coastline in the War of the Pacific.’”
“I can get you the answer in less than fifteen seconds.” Jim reached for his cell phone.
“That’s cheating and you know it. Laney, we need your help.”
She smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m beat after the day we had.” She jerked a thumb toward the guest room. “I’m going to turn in early tonight.”
“All right, dear. We won’t be up too much later either.”
The plush carpet felt soft against her feet as Laney walked the familiar path to Jenna’s room turned guest room. The furniture was all new—a cherry sleigh bed, in place of the white canopy bed Jenna had had since she was seven, and a new matching chest of drawers and nightstand. Even the walls had been repainted. Part of it made Laney sad, but at the same time, she was glad the Mitchells had made an effort to move on. How hard it was to let go of the past.
Laney flopped down on the soft raspberry-hued comforter and downloaded the files Ryan had sent onto her laptop. The first was one of the Wilson cases, the one that had brought his conviction after the remains were discovered in a dumpster behind a gas station. The girl, who’d been only twenty years old, stared back at her from a photograph taken shortly before her death. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but somethin
g about her eyes made her seem sweet and innocent. She hadn’t deserved the fate she’d received at a killer’s hands.
Laney opened a new tab and clicked through pictures of the remains. A shudder rippled across her shoulders as one after another crossed the screen. More than bones remained in this case—the girl had been missing only three months when they’d found her. The medical examiner’s report indicated she’d been dead at least a couple of weeks before she was dumped. Bits of twigs and leaves in her hair suggested the body had been kept outside for some period of time.
Downsizing the gruesome pictures, she found the detailed list of evidence. The leaves had come from oak and hickory trees but hadn’t borne any markers that could provide a more specific location. The bones had been cleaned and documented, and the file included close-ups of all the shearing marks and the damage to the skull used in court as evidence against Ronald Wilson.
A thump out in the hallway made Laney flinch. She sat silent for a long moment, listening, until she heard soft voices. Mary and Jim. They must be heading to bed.
She let out a long breath. Looking at files like these was sure to make a person jumpy. Still, she couldn’t help hoping Ryan would be back soon. His father was the police chief and his house was secure, but nobody made her feel as safe as Ryan could.
What time was it anyway? A quick glance at the clock showed she should be going to sleep, too, but the thought of lying here in the dark wasn’t exactly appealing. No doubt Ryan would be back any minute.
At the sound of a car outside, she slid off the bed and peeked through a crack in the wooden louvered blinds, out at the street beyond the front yard. Streetlights glowed orange down the length of the road, illuminating a neat row of wooden mailboxes and manicured lawns. The Mitchells lived on one of Sandy Bluff’s better streets.
Buried Evidence Page 9
