Tainted Evidence (Evidence Series Book 10)

by Rachel Grant

  “If Josh isn’t busy, I’m sure he’ll do it for free.”

  “No way. This is business. Aubrey Sisters will reimburse me.” She was fairly certain this was true, but Maddie really didn’t want to worry Sienna to confirm. She’d tell Larkspur as soon as she was back on the grid, and if the cost wasn’t authorized, so be it.

  “I’ll call Josh and tell him the situation, see if he’s available. You need him tonight?”

  “If he could, yes. Otherwise, tomorrow or Friday? The sooner the better.”

  “Got it.”

  “Give him my number, but tell him I’ve got no reception in the crypt, so I won’t get calls or messages while I’m down below.”

  “What’s the address?”

  She gave Trina the address and described the exterior basement entrance so he could find her if he was able to stop by tonight. Even if he couldn’t stop by, she’d told someone she was uncomfortable with Troy. It gave her a sense of security.

  She watched the man as she tucked away her phone. He stared at her, his gaze unwavering. The back of her neck tingled, as if she could feel his anger across the long expanse of lawn.

  He knew she’d shared her concerns, and he didn’t like it.

  Her phone vibrated, and she smiled at the creep as she pulled it out to see the message. Trina had sent Josh Warner’s cell number. Maddie saved him in her address book.

  Josh. My boyfriend’s name is Josh.

  She added a heart emoji next to his name and deleted Trina’s message, in case Troy should get a look at her phone.

  Too bad she didn’t know anything else about Josh other than that he worked for Trina’s husband, CEO of Raptor, a private security and military training company. Well, that and Trina had wanted to fix them up—which meant he was single.

  Maddie hadn’t been keen on the fix up because she’d been through too many excruciating blind dates after a nasty breakup. Her friends were determined to help her by forcing her back on the horse. And while their hearts might be in the right place, their screening methods were for shit.

  Until a few weeks ago, Trina hadn’t been on the fix-up bandwagon, but then, they hadn’t lived in the same city since they were roommates at Ohio State, so the woman hadn’t had any prospects to throw at Maddie to see if they would stick. That changed when Josh Warner moved to Portland several weeks ago.

  After a year of crappy dates with men and women who were equally unhappy to be roped into a fix up, Maddie had shot Trina down without breaking a sweat. No, thank you.

  Except today. Today, she’d take Josh and be grateful. She tucked her phone in her pocket, silently praying he was available to play white knight. The tribes had literally been waiting a hundred years for this day. She wasn’t about to fail them because one slimeball made her nervous.

  Josh pulled into the horseshoe driveway and stared at the huge gothic mansion and museum with a FOR SALE BY OWNER sign out front. The house would be stunning if he didn’t know there was a crypt full of stolen Native American remains beneath it. With that knowledge, it looked creepy as hell.

  Seeing Trina’s number in caller ID had sent him for a loop, but Keith was fine. Owen was fine. Trina needed a favor, and it was business. Not that he’d expected anything else coming from her. Her friend, Madeline Foster, felt threatened, and there was no way Josh could say no to Trina.

  He’d spent an hour getting up to speed before driving east. He’d checked out both the museum website and real estate listing and ran a financial and criminal background check on the Kocher family and museum.

  No doubt the mansion would sell for several million, creepy or not. Over five thousand square feet, southern exposure, situated on five acres above the Sandy River a few miles from the confluence with the Columbia. Even though it was on the river, the valley was deep here, and the house was well above the hundred-year floodplain—which was why it stood in pristine condition nearly a hundred and thirty years after it was built by a logger baron whose son was a grave robber.

  Josh had grown up in a small town in eastern Oregon. He’d gone to school on a reservation with Umatilla and Cayuse tribal members. He knew what looting meant to Native Americans on a personal level, but it didn’t take growing up with tribal members to know that grave robbing was bad. And this museum had operated without consequences for the last sixty years.

  He’d had to rearrange his schedule to make this field trip, but Trina had made the request, and when she’d told him why her friend was here, he couldn’t say no.

  He texted Madeline to let her know he was here, but Trina had explained it was unlikely she’d receive it. He circled the building and found the open door with brick steps leading down into darkness, as described.

  Josh descended the stairs, being careful to make no sound. He reached a landing where the steps made a ninety-degree turn and paused, staying out of sight of those in the crypt below. A man’s voice carried up to him. “You don’t have permission to do that.”

  “My job is to inspect the entire collection, Mr. Kocher. You’re permitted to be here as security guard, as this is your home, but you’re not to impede me or my research. This collection no longer belongs to you, and the Columbia Legacy Museum cannot accession any artifacts until after repatriation of all human remains and associated funerary objects has occurred.”

  “You’ll damage the brick.”

  “I don’t care about the brick. I care about the human remains inside.”

  “This house is on the National Register—”

  “I promise, prying open a vault won’t alter the exterior of the house or in any way mar the integrity of the historical nature of the property. I can assure you I know the National Historic Preservation Act chapter and verse, and there is no adverse effect. I’m working within the parameters of the agreement. You were informed that every vault was to be accessible today.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  “Get your hands off me, Mr. Kocher.” The woman’s voice sounded more angry than alarmed, but still, adrenaline surged through Josh.

  Josh hurried down the last flight of stairs. The rectangular room was about fifteen feet wide and at least fifty feet long, lined with brick on either side. Small metal doors—each one slightly larger than a license plate—were mounted in the bricks at regular intervals. Presumably, these were the vaults. Dozens of doors. More than a hundred. More than two hundred?

  Midway down the length of the room, a large man—several inches above six feet and thick with muscle—had his back to Josh. The guy wore a tricked-out belt, like he expected a riot any moment. He gripped something—or rather someone—blocked from Josh’s view.

  “Madeline?” Josh said. “You down here?” He was careful to pronounce her name Mada-lynn, not line, as Trina had instructed. A boyfriend would know these things.

  The guy jerked around, dropping his grip on her.

  “Josh!” She darted around the guard and ran to meet him at the base of the stairs. He found his arms full of woman as she threw herself at him.

  He leaned down as any boyfriend would and kissed her, brushing his lips over hers, pausing with their mouths pressed together a beat longer than necessary to sell the boyfriend charade. He raised his head and got his first look at her. He usually tried to see a woman’s face before he kissed her for the first time, but apparently, that wasn’t always possible.

  He smiled as he met her relieved gaze.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  Trina had said Madeline was gorgeous—which he’d taken with a grain of salt given that she’d been angling for a fix up—but Keith’s wife hadn’t been exaggerating. In fact, Madeline reminded him a bit of Trina in that she was nearly a foot shorter than him and had big eyes—blue, not hazel like Trina’s—framed in purple metal-rimmed glasses. She had delicate features, high cheekbones, a button nose, soft pink lips, and flawless skin. In another life, Madeline Foster would catch and hold his attention.

  In this life, he didn’t have time or attention to give.

/>   But still, her short, light brown hair was pulled back in a bright orange headband that made her look younger than thirty-four or thirty-five, which was how old she’d be if she were close to Trina’s age. She had a sexy Velma-from-Scooby-Doo kind of vibe, and Josh had always been a Velma fan.

  And here they were, in a haunted crypt. All that was missing was the Great Dane jonesing for treats. He smiled down at her and wondered why he’d resisted the fix up when he had the chance.

  But he knew why, and it wasn’t just because he was here to open a new Raptor office, get Owen settled in at the wounded warrior retreat center, and provide a stable home for his teenage niece. He didn’t have time for big blue-eyed distractions, superficial flings, or meddling crime-solving kids, dog or no dog.

  “You ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked as he cupped her nape in one palm, like he held her this way all the time.

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Twenty minutes? I’ve got a few more vaults to inventory before I can quit for the night.” She blinked rapidly, not in a batting-eyelashes sort of way, but in a way that telegraphed alarm or annoyance.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sure thing. I thought you’d be done by now.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Several vaults aren’t accessible. I was about to use the flat end of my tire iron to pry them open.”

  She nodded to a table set up to one side of the room. On top was a laptop, a portable scanner, a camera, a heavy-based magnifying glass with light, and a stack of papers and notebooks. Next to that was a tire iron and an assortment of other tools: flathead screwdrivers, hammer, a pointed flat trowel, a thick file.

  “I raided my car toolbox and dig kit for anything that might work, I think the tire iron is the best bet. The latches won’t budge.”

  “Maybe I can help. If your tire iron doesn’t work, I’ve got a beefier one in my SUV.”

  He waited for Kocher to object, but the man said nothing, which was telling. He was only willing to block her from opening the vaults when she didn’t have a witness.

  He met the man’s gaze. “Josh Warner.” He didn’t offer his hand, he just cocked his head and waited for the man to offer up his name.

  He was bigger than Josh, and his posture—and belt full of weapons—was meant to intimidate, but Josh didn’t scare easily after a decade in the military and another five in high-end private security and paramilitary operations.

  After a long pause, he said, “Troy Kocher. This is my house.”

  “Yours and about a half dozen other people, right?” After looking at the real estate listing, he’d checked out the museum’s website. It was officially down, but he’d managed to find a cached version. The “About” page had described the Kocher cousins, who shared ownership of the museum, house, and grounds.

  Kocher’s eyes flattened as he crossed his arms. “Yeah. I’m the caretaker. The one who does all the work.”

  The way he said it made Josh wonder if this guy was stealing from his relatives as well, considering it his due. Not Josh’s problem. The entire Kocher family had happily profited from putting human remains on display. Screw them and their internal disagreements. He only cared if he could use Troy Kocher’s dishonesty with his cousins to Madeline’s advantage and for her protection.

  Josh crossed to the table and picked up the tire iron. He scanned the vaults. “Which one?” he asked Madeline. Or Maddie. Trina had used both names; he needed to find out what she preferred. Seemed like a boyfriend ought to know that, and from the vibe in this nightmare of a room, this wasn’t going to be a one-time gig.

  How long would she be working here? Given the number of crypts, he guessed weeks. Maybe even months?

  None of the archaeologists he’d met through Trina did NAGPRA work, so he had no clue what a project like this entailed. All he knew was he probably didn’t have time for this. Ava would start her junior year in a month. Owen was flying in tomorrow. He needed to get the office off the ground, and today’s meeting had been a bust.

  His priority list was full before he added a charity case in the form of Madeline Foster. It was extremely unlikely the woman could afford Raptor’s base fee, let alone the undercover boyfriend experience. But here he was.

  The vault popped open easily once he applied pressure in the right spot. No damage to the bricks; only the rusted latch paid the price.

  “Thank you,” Madeline said.

  Josh studied the dark void. “It’s empty.”

  She frowned, then cast a glance over her shoulder. “Where are the remains?”

  The security guard shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “The donation form you filled out stated there were remains in every vault, some containing more than one individual.”

  He shrugged again. “It was probably on display in the museum at some point, then put in the wrong vault afterward.”

  From what Josh could find on the internet, the fact that human remains had been on display in the first place was the reason the museum closed last year. Guess there was no point in Kocher denying it now.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if her patience neared an end. “It had better turn up.” She then pointed to five other vaults and asked Josh to open them. He made quick work of their rusted latches, and thankfully, each one contained a skeleton inside.

  He set the bar on the table and grabbed a seat so he could watch as she did her thing, scanning any papers in the vault, taking photos of any objects that weren’t bones, and writing notes on the contents of each one.

  Twenty minutes came and went, and it was clear to Josh they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. He spent the time counting vaults.

  Two hundred and thirty. And all but one held at least one skeleton. Had this creepy basement been designed this way from the start, or were the vaults added later?

  He studied the brickwork and tried to guess if it had been done in phases, or all at once. He didn’t know much about Victorian mansions, but it seemed as if wealthy families would have their crypts in a separate building, not in their own basement. It’s not like this was Winterfell.

  But…these also weren’t the remains of Kocher family ancestors. These were the bones of indigenous people, kept as trophies.

  From the website, he gathered that Troy was the grandson or great-grandson of the looter. He studied the man, then nodded toward the vaults. “How would you feel if someone dug up Grandpa Otto and kept him as a trophy?”

  “My great-grandfather was cremated.”

  Yeah, the old man probably insisted on that to make sure he didn’t suffer the same fate he’d inflicted on so many others.

  Josh watched Kocher watch Madeline. This part was familiar. He’d done bodyguard duty for the last few years for Raptor. Prior to that, he’d been a SEAL, on the same team with Raptor CEO Keith Hatcher. Trina’s husband. His best friend.

  A few months ago, Josh had submitted his resignation—he needed to move to Portland to take guardianship of his niece while she finished high school. He wouldn’t make the girl move to a new school because her dad was an asshole. But Keith had a better idea. He’d long wanted a West Coast office and had been looking at LA, but Portland would be a lot cheaper to get up and running, and there was a chance they could develop a new training compound on the east side of the state. Cheap land and a desert environment, filling gaps in their existing training facilities.

  Josh had two years to make it happen, and his best friend to thank for the opportunity. He was a lucky man, but there was guilt in accepting Keith’s offer that weighed on him.

  Madeline closed the last vault door and returned to the table and began packing up her laptop. Josh joined her, gathering the tools strewn across one end of the table.

  “Sorry that took so long,” she said.

  He shrugged and dropped a kiss on her cheek, deep in the role of relaxed, indifferent boyfriend. Usually, he met the client first, and, if it was warranted, they’d plan body language and kiss/touch boundaries. But given that he woul
dn’t be able to be around much as she worked this job, it was a good idea to lay it on thick. She played her part well, reacting as if his kisses were natural and welcome.

  Madeline headed for the stairs without a word to Kocher. Josh made a point of meeting the security guard’s gaze before following. “I watch out for what’s mine,” he said in a quiet voice.

  The man’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t say a word.

  “I know you can’t sell this property as long as the bones are here. They aren’t your ancestors, and this isn’t your family crypt. This isn’t a graveyard or a cemetery. It’s not sacred ground in any way, shape, or form. And this place is costing you a fortune in taxes. You interfere or hinder Madeline’s work again, and she can drag this into the next tax year. And I know for a fact you can’t pay last year’s tax bill, let alone this one or the next. I recommend you back off and leave the rent-a-cop utility belt upstairs in your playroom. Attempting to intimidate Madeline will only hurt you in the long run. I will make sure of it.”

  Josh turned before Kocher could respond and ascended the stairs. He caught up with Madeline on the central landing, her eyes wide with surprise. Guess she hadn’t known about the tax issue and how very desperate the Kochers were for cash.

  It felt good to be on the job. Helping someone. Doing what he did best. Plus, she was pretty, and it had been years since he’d looked at another woman and thought that.

  He shook his head. He was done with impossible, destructive fantasies.

  He took her hand and squeezed it, then they climbed from the crypt together.

  2

  Adrenaline still coursed through Maddie’s system when she pulled into her driveway twenty-five minutes later. She parked in the garage while Josh parked his SUV in the driveway behind her.

  She wanted more than anything to go inside and pour herself a stiff drink and soak in the tub as she processed the day, but she owed the man a huge thanks, and it was too soon in their fake relationship to jump into a tub together.