He was one of those kids who was cute in a dorky kind of way. He had a bowl cut and wore a bow tie in his picture. But there was a sweetness in his expression that made me want to hug him.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, he was buried at Holy Name Cemetery in West Mifflin,” I half whispered as I read on.
Deke was the only child of Glenn and Teresa Holtz but Glenn had an older daughter from a previous marriage. Skylar Holtz had just graduated from high school. Something about the sister’s graduation made the whole situation even more depressing. I couldn’t explain why that was.
Erkens remained silent for a few minutes as we drove but it seemed he couldn’t hold himself back any longer as we stopped at a light in West Mifflin. “A lot of the work we do tends to be counseling as people process what’s happened. With this case, I’m not sure if I think grief made Holtz see things or if we’re really dealing with an undead kid wandering one of the most haunted places in this state.”
I turned to look at him, curious to see what his reaction would be. “I’m less bothered by him seeing Deke than I am by the fact he called us.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “That was just what struck me about his phone call. He didn’t act like a father who’d just seen his dead son after a year. He acted like a man with a lot of secrets.”
I tipped my head to the side. “Why did you take the case if you’re so skeptical?” I asked as we turned onto the road that curved its way around the cemetery.
He made a motion to the cemetery entrance just ahead of us where police lights were flashing. “We didn’t take this case because of him. We took it because I got a call about some grave robberies. It just so happens that Deke Holtz’s grave is in the same cemetery that was raided.”
I blinked, my mouth agape. It was true. There really were revenants roaming around. Holy error code.
Erkens pulled to a stop behind one of the squad cars, nodding to the grumpy looking police officer as the guy glanced at him. It was one of those things. The chief of police believed in the paranormal and called Erkens in when cases were weird. The rest of the police force thought he was a crazy ex-cop who showed up to make their lives difficult.
I slung my bag across my body as we got out of the truck. My eyes were fixed on the gravestones visible through the chain-link fence that surrounded the place. I cringed at the idea of walking through that place.
There were houses right across the street, several of them with curious faces peeking out from behind curtains. Living across the street from where hundreds or even thousands of decomposing bodies were buried made me very uncomfortable.
It felt disrespectful to walk through some stranger’s resting place. There was no other choice, though. We were apparently investigating grave robberies. That was something to put in my memory book.
Understanding of the dour look on Erkens’ face came to me when I saw his ex-partner. Bukowski nodded at the sight of us, beckoning us over. Erkens harrumphed but he did walk in that direction.
I had only found out recently that Bukowski had been married to Erkens’ daughter while the two had been partners. He had also divorced her during that time. To say the two had a strained relationship would be under-exaggerating in the extreme.
Bukowski nodded to him and gave me a weird look before he looked back at the guy he’d been talking to. “So you’re telling me there’s no security cameras around here?” he demanded like even the idea of it offended him.
The guy shook his head. “Nah, sir. Ain’t been a problem ‘fore now.”
Bukowski waved the guy off and scowled, folding his arms as he turned on Erkens. “So what is it this time? A ghost? A demon? An alien? Or maybe it’s just some sick psycho who’s decided dead remains look like the best place to stick his--” he broke off, glancing at me like he thought I wouldn’t know what he meant. “Why are you here?” he finished on a grumble.
Erkens ignored him, looking at the guy Bukowski had been talking to. “I’m TC Erkens,” he said in a far friendlier way than I had expected.
“Manny Dozorca, sir.”
Erkens jotted the name down before he went on. “Of the people who live close, which one would you say would be most likely to have seen what happened?”
The guy didn’t even have to think about it before he spoke. “Bertie Suile,” he said, motioning to a house straight across the road. “Nosiest old broad I ever seen.”
Erkens inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said and turned to walk toward the place.
I moved to follow him until Bukowski took hold of my arm in an aggressive way. If he wasn’t a cop, I probably would have sucker punched him and got out of there fast. The fact he was a cop nixed that idea. I did not want to be arrested.
He gave me a look that could have melted steel. “This is an open, police investigation. You--”
Erkens turned back around, his furrowed brow and bared teeth making me sure Bukowski should run for cover. The two started shouting at each other, both of them gesticulating wildly.
It was probably a far better idea to duck and run but I wasn’t in the mood. What I did instead was to take in a bracing breath and step between the two of them. I didn’t speak. All I did was stand there and wait.
Erkens blinked, apparently just remembering where we were. He cleared his throat after a few uncomfortable seconds and nodded to me. “Let’s go,” he said in his usual tone.
Bukowski turned away, his face bright red. I couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or anger that turned him that particular shade. It didn’t really matter.
When we had exited the cemetery, Erkens huffed. “What happened to you at Dead Man’s Hollow?” he asked like he was trying to distract himself from his anger at Bukowski.
I kept my eyes straight ahead. “One of the seniors in my class thought it would be funny to scare me. I was already freaked out, so when somebody grabbed my shoulder, I almost jumped out of my skin. I slipped, then tripped, then just kept falling. I don’t know if he intentionally tripped me or not but I somersaulted down the embankment and into the river. My head hit a rock and knocked me out. I probably would have drowned if it wasn’t for Mr. Holtz. When I was falling, I saw the ghost watching me. He was half translucent . . . and he was coming at me.” A shiver worked its way over me. “It wasn’t the best day I ever had.”
He ran his hand down over his mouth and made a growly noise. “Madison, at some point, I would like to go through a day without wanting to tar and feather someone from your past.”
I smirked at him. “I was an annoying kid. Kind of a know-it-all with a bad temper. I deserved it.”
“All children are annoying, Madison. You did NOT deserve that.”
I shrugged, fixing my eyes on the house as we walked toward it. It looked like it had started out as a small ranch style house, then had been added onto. It was an odd, mix-and-match kind of structure that gave the feeling of being incomplete.
I saw the curtain move and a pair of curious eyes met mine. The woman was old and very round, with a set of binoculars around her neck and another set on the windowsill next to her.
She let the curtain drop and about three seconds later, the door squeaked open. “Are you with the police?” she asked in a croaky wheeze of a voice, eyeballing us over the reading glasses perched low on her nose.
Erkens shook his head, drawing out a business card to offer to her. “No, ma’am. We’re private investigators.”
She took the card and tipped her head back to look at it through the smudged lenses of her glasses. “T.C. Erkens,” she read, tipping her glasses down to look at me. “You Mr. Erkens secretary?”
“No, ma’am. I’m Madison Meyer, his associate.”
Her neck bent forward as she let out a derisive sniff. “When a girl was associating with an old man in my day, that meant something very different.” She regarded Erkens like she was trying to gauge if he was that kind of pervert. After an uncomfortable moment, she tucked the card into the pocket of her flowery apron an
d stepped out onto the stoop. “I saw the whole thing and it was a sin and a shame,” she confided, clicking her tongue as she shook her head.
“What did you see, Mrs. Suile?” I asked, hoping to get her story fast.
She reared back and cursed volubly as she turned on me. “Now who told you my name, young lady?” she demanded, her wrinkled mouth turned down in a ferocious frown.
“The police,” I invented quickly, hoping I had read her correctly. “They’re very interested in hearing every detail of what you saw.”
Her eyes lit with excitement. “Oh, now you just wait ‘til you hear,” she said, looking at Erkens like I wasn’t there at all. “Now I don’t care what other people do with themselves. I live my life and they live theirs. It’s the only way,” she said, looking ready to go on for hours. “If that fool of a caretaker wants to dig a grave in the middle of the night, that’s his business. But when it wakes me out of a sound sleep, I’m not about to just let it go.”
I wanted to hurry her along in her story. It was clear that if she was interrupted, she’d dislike me even more than she already did. I groaned inwardly and waited.
She gave a sanctimonious head bob. “Now I tell you, I have never trusted that man. He mows and he weeds but I don’t believe he’s even Catholic.” She looked so appalled, it was like she’d just told us he worshipped Satan in the graveyard every night.
I counted to three in my head, trying to remain patient. It was one of the hardest battles I ever fought with myself.
She leaned close to Erkens and pitched her voice to a whisper. “You take my word. He’s the one who dug up that poor boy’s grave.”
And my mouth fell open. I glanced at Erkens, seeing the same look on his face. Most stories about revenants had them waking up in their coffins and digging their way out of the ground. No one dug them up. Why would anyone do that?
FOUR
My former peaceful mood was completely gone as we got back to the office. I needed to do some research . . . a lot of research.
Erkens motioned toward my car as I started walking back toward the office. “Go on, Madison. Take the rest of the afternoon off. You need it,” he ordered, not leaving any room for debate.
I blew out a long breath and tipped my head back to look at the clouds. “I keep thinking it’s going to get easier like I’ll get used to horrible things happening around me. It hasn’t happened yet,” I confessed, running my hands up and down my arms to ward off a chill.
He leaned back against the fender. “Getting used to horror is the first sign you need to find a new job,” he stated, his eyes boring into me. “You are a clever investigator but if this isn’t what you want to do with your life, you have the ability to go anywhere, be anything.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t saying I wanted a new job. I really do love what we do. It’s just hard to handle sometimes,” I finished lamely, shrugging a single shoulder. “I have a feeling Mr. Holtz knew about his son’s grave being dug up. I’m thinking it might be a good idea to look into him and his family tomorrow.”
Erkens nodded. “It’s a good place to start,” he said, narrowing his eyes as a car pulled in close to us. “Get out of here, Madison.”
I understood when I saw Bukowski getting out of the car. It was strange. Those two had been partners for years. They had been family part of that time. How had their relationship gone so wrong?
I didn’t question it. All I did was lift my hand in a small wave and walk to my car. I’d already gotten in the middle of one of their quarrels that day. I was not in the mood to play ref for another.
My drive through the city wasn’t as bad as usual. With music playing and the peace I had felt that morning, everything settled back down in my mind. Or maybe it was the simple fact I was heading for a place where peace was the rule.
It made me smile as I pulled into the driveway at Ian’s parent’s house. It was a pretty, brick two-story that sat at the top of a hill looking down on the woods. As a kid, it had been my dream-home. Everything about it was what I considered to be perfection.
I got out of my car and tipped my head back, savoring the sounds of . . . a basketball bouncing and males laughing. Okay, that wasn’t a bad sound. Not at all.
I stepped around one of the tall shrubs that shaded the view of the house from the street and smiled even wider. Ian and his friends were playing two-on-two, two wearing shirts, two not. Ian was on the not team and . . . I did my best not to be blown away by him.
The fact he was tall was a very nice feature. His broad shoulders and six-pack abs just added to the picture he made. My blue-eyed golden boy. Yeah, okay. So I might have ogled him a little.
One of the guys made a really bad shot and the ball bounced off the top of the backboard. It would have bounced down the hill into the woods if I hadn’t been there.
I caught the ball, grinned at the guys, and jumped as I made the shot. The feel of it as it left my fingers was just right. It was a very long shot that swished perfectly.
Ian whooped, rebounding the ball with one long arm. “Nice one, Mads,” he told me, passing the ball back to one of the other guys.
Anton caught the ball and stuck it under his arm, his burly body looking like it would be more at home on a football field than a basketball court. He had dark hair and bronze skin and wore thick-rimmed glasses that gave a charm to his face. He was a guy who could only be described as ‘adorkable’.
He grinned at me as the other guys started to leave. “Thank you,” he said, jabbing a thumb at Ian. “He was kicking our butts. Nice to see the one person who can kick his come around.”
I smirked at him and shrugged. “If you really want me to, all you have to do is ask,” I said, taking a faux menacing step toward Ian.
He lifted his arms like he planned to wrap those sweaty things around me. “I’m a little bigger than you, babe,” he threatened, stepping closer with a gleam in his Caribbean blue eyes.
I darted around behind him and buckled his knees, planting a kiss on the top of his sweaty head when he landed. “But I’m trouble, remember?” I asked, dancing back when he made a grab for me. I was aware he’d let me take him down but it was still fun.
The self-defense classes I’d been taking did seem to be helping. I was more aware of what was going on around me, less likely to be taken off guard.
Anton let out a loud laugh. “Buddy, just admit it. Your girl could kick you into next week without breaking a sweat,” he said, tossing Ian’s discarded shirt at him.
“No argument,” Ian said, giving me one of those looks that made my knees feel weak.
Anton cleared his throat. “Are we waiting for your dad to help us or is it just the three of us?”
Ian used his shirt to wipe away some of his sweat and nodded toward the house. “I’m not bringing that much stuff,” he said, getting to his feet. “If Mads can still lend her very supportive hands to the job, the three of us should have it done in one trip.”
I peered at my hands and shrugged. “Magic-hacker-hands are indeed willing to help,” and my peace came back in full force.
Since Ian had completed his associate’s degree, he had chosen not to go back to college. He was a fully qualified mechanic and had a good job working at his dad’s dealership. Because of all that, along with the fact he was twenty, he had chosen to move out of his parent’s house.
Since Anton also wanted to move out of his parent’s house, the two planned to be roommates. I was glad about it all for several reasons, the biggest of which the fact they had found a place that was less than half a mile from my house.
Since Ian was only bringing the bare minimum of his things, it would indeed be an easy trip. He had borrowed a truck from his dad to hook a small trailer to. That trailer was barely necessary.
A desk. His dresser. His bed. A few boxes of things. A few boxes of clothes. There was enough space left to fit my car.
It only took us a few hours to load the trailer, drive back into the city, unload the stuff, and set
it up. By the time we were done, though, something about the day was bugging me. Erkens and I had found out very little, yet something told me I needed to work on the case.
Anton had brought his stuff by the day before and had already set up the TV and WiFi. While they debated what kind of pizza to order, I sat down on their couch and got into the system at the office to look at Erkens’ notes from the day. Unsurprisingly, they had been added to the system five minutes after I’d left.
What did surprise me was the fact that Bukowski’s name was at the bottom of the report. Okay. Apparently Bukowski was working the case with us. Weird. I wondered if the two had patched things up or something. Somehow, I doubted it.
I pushed that aside for further contemplation and kept reading everything Erkens had added to his report. He had gotten a call that morning from the chief, telling him about the graves being dug up. The police had let Mr. Holtz know before the chief had even called Erkens.
Okay, so had Mr. Holtz known about the theft of Deke’s body before he claimed to see him in the woods. That was definitely part of my problem with the case. Mr. Holtz’s reaction was weird.
It seemed to me that if a man saw his son who had died the year before, he would hit his knees in prayers of gratitude while trying to find the kid. Instead, the guy had called Erkens and told us what he wanted was for us to ‘make it stick’.
Again, that was weird. Why did he think it wouldn’t? What did he know that we didn’t? Could he have been the one to dig up the grave?
I read on, my mind whirring through questions I wanted to ask. Erkens hadn’t observed anything I had missed, his notes as detailed as they always were.
The caretaker Bukowski had been talking to was an ex-con. He had spent three years in prison. Erkens hadn’t listed what he was incarcerated for. When he was released, he had begun working at the cemetery. He wasn’t technically the caretaker. It turned out he was the caretaker’s brother.
My mouth fell open when I realized what my mind wanted me to go over. Bertie Suile. She had seen someone digging the grave in the middle of the night but she hadn’t called the cops. The police had been alerted about the graves that morning by Sonny Dozorca, the actual caretaker.
The Trail of Ruins Page 2