Secret is in the Bones (Paynes Creek Thriller Book 3)

by Heather Sunseri

  “And that will help us navigate how to dismantle this gang,” Agent Thomason said. “They can’t expect to keep control inside the prison by murdering people outside. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give them that much power.”

  EIGHTEEN

  FAITH

  With my hands clasped loosely in front of me on the metal table, I sat inside a small windowless interview room at the Paynes Creek Police Department. I knew not to alter my body language while the detective questioned me.

  “How well did you know Steven?” Detective Fish said as she leaned against the opposite wall. She led with a basic, predictable question after informing me the interview was being recorded.

  “He was my best friend’s husband,” I said. “Steven and I weren’t close, but I knew him well enough.”

  “Did you like him?”

  “He made my friend very happy, so yeah, I liked him.”

  “Did he like you?”

  “He tolerated me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, Penelope and I liked going out for girls’ nights, and we had a bad habit of letting loose on those nights. This sometimes irritated Steven. But other than that, I have to hope he thought I was a good friend to Penelope.”

  “Did Penelope get along well with Steven?”

  “Yes. They got along very well.” I glanced up at the Detective. “Detective, if you continue with this line of questioning, I will have to stop you and lawyer up.” I wasn’t about to say something that investigators could twist into something to use against Penelope.

  “Fine.” She stepped forward and set a photograph in front of me.

  I didn’t have to look at it directly to know it was a photo of the framed picture of me and Darren from Colorado.

  I lifted a brow. “Do you have a question?”

  She set a hip on the edge of the table. “That’s you, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is the person with you?”

  “His name is Darren Murray.” I didn’t elaborate.

  She angled her head. Irritation seeped into the lines between her eyes. “The more you cooperate, the faster we’ll both get out of here.”

  “I understand how this works, Detective. You ask questions. I answer questions. If you ask something that oversteps, or that I don’t feel comfortable answering, I call my attorney, and you’ll have to ask your questions another day.”

  “Okay.” She pushed away from the table, walked a couple of steps, then faced me again. “Look, I spoke with Darla Jane today. Your neighbor at the Horse Park campground.”

  I gave her a quick nod. “Of course, I know who she is.” I should have expected the detective had been talking to people about me. Just doing her job, I supposed. I couldn’t fault her for that.

  “I know you weren’t in Paynes Creek on Friday night. I also don’t see you having a motive. In addition, I know you feel very strongly that Penelope didn’t kill Steven. And I know that Chief McCracken allowed you and Special Agent Luke Justice into my crime scene.”

  She knew a lot, it seemed. “It wasn’t your crime scene, yet.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue semantics here. You clearly have a conflict of interest, and you are not currently working for the Paynes Creek Police Department, right?”

  “Did Chief McCracken tell you that?”

  She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly as she stood and paced. “No. He said you work on a contract basis. Exactly the same arrangement you had with the last Chief.” She whipped back around. “Look, I don’t think you had anything to do with Steven Champagne’s death. But you shouldn’t have entered that crime scene. It could cause problems in the future.”

  “Not if investigators find evidence to prove who committed these crimes. I didn’t disturb your crime scene, Detective Fish. And I have two credible witnesses who will swear under oath to that.” At least I thought Dr. Michel would testify to that. It was the truth, after all.

  “You’re smarter than that. A good defense attorney will call for a mistrial.”

  “Not if it’s disclosed.”

  She gave her head a shake. “Let’s not put the cart ahead of the horse. Look, I did my homework. I know that you don’t suffer fools like Marla Manfield, but those who you do call friends will go to bat for you, including a new Chief of Police who only knows you by reputation, two FBI agents who live in town and are highly respected, and Myra Harlowe, who I consider a friend when she’s not defending one of my suspects.”

  “You and Myra are friends?” I asked. I didn’t even attempt to hide my surprise. Why hadn’t Myra mentioned this?

  “Yes.” She pointed at the picture again. “I’m just trying to find out how this framed photograph made its way into the Champagne home. Because most of my forensic evidence points to Penelope Champagne killing her husband. Yet here’s a photograph that Penelope has never seen, and you say you didn’t give her.”

  “I didn’t. I’ve never printed that photograph. I sent it to Darren by text. No one else should have it.”

  “Did Darren print it? And frame it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Can you tell me how to contact Darren?”

  “Yes.” I glanced down at my hands, which I hadn’t moved, then reached across the table for Detective Fish’s pen and legal pad. As I wrote Darren’s name and phone number on the legal pad, I said, “You said earlier that most of your forensic evidence points to Penelope. Is there forensic evidence that contradicts that?”

  Detective Fish’s lips curved into a smirk. “I’d heard you were a pretty sharp investigator yourself.”

  “Not at all.” I slid the pen and paper back toward her. “I simply listen well, and I don’t forget things.”

  Instead of answering, she ended the interview with a terse statement. “That’s all the questions I have for now. I appreciate your time and willingness to help.”

  I scooted the metal chair against the concrete floor and stood. “I’m not sure I helped much.”

  Detective Fish studied me a moment longer. And before I left, she said, “I probably don’t have to tell you this, but that framed picture ties you to this case. Someone wanted attention drawn to you.”

  Deciding that the day had been terrible enough already, I pointed my truck toward home.

  I was exhausted from a morning of constant conflict that began with confronting Penelope’s in-laws and ended with a conversation at the police station.

  As I neared my property, I spotted a truck towing a trailer that was carrying a large tractor mower pulling down my driveway toward the road.

  I immediately called Aunt Leah.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said when she answered. “Did you send someone to mow at my place?”

  “I already told you that I didn’t.”

  “No, I mean today. A truck is pulling out of my driveway right now.” I sat up straighter in my seat and scanned my property. “It appears they just mowed the main yard today.”

  “It wasn’t me. Are you sure you didn’t set that up back in the spring to be done regularly, and just forgot?”

  “Did you forget who you were talking to?” I asked in retort.

  “Of course, you didn’t forget. But I have no idea who would have hired a service on your behalf.”

  The truck pulled out onto the road. As it passed me, I made a mental note of the company name on the side of the truck: Bright Green Lawn Service. The driver of the truck didn’t even make eye contact as he passed by.

  “Me either. But I’m going to get to the bottom of it. I’ll call you later.”

  I quickly pulled up my driveway and parked near the Airstream.

  Inside, I greeted Gus, then went to my computer to look up the phone number for Bright Green Lawn Service.

  When I had them on the phone, I gave them my name and address and proceeded to ask them who hired them to mow my property.

  “Let me look that info up for you, honey. Just a sec.” I could hear the lady on the other
end of the conversation clicking away on her computer, then she said, “Well, sweetie, it looks like whoever pays for the service, pays with an online banking account in the name of EJG, LLC.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

  I hung up. Gus jumped up in my lap, and as I stroked her back, I considered EJG.

  Ethan James Gentry.

  NINETEEN

  FAITH

  The visitation for Steven Champagne were scheduled on a somber and cloudy Tuesday evening.

  Dressed in a fitted black dress and black heels, I stepped out of my trailer just before five to witness dark skies in the west that would match the mood of those who would attend the service. I planned to drive to Aunt Leah’s and allow her to run to the funeral home first. I would go after. There was no reason for her to drag Oliver out on such a dismal day. And I could stay until the end to be there for Penelope.

  I’d been tempted to skip the visitation and the funeral all together. Penelope wouldn’t have faulted me for either, knowing that it would be difficult to fight the memories of my parents’ deaths and their funerals, especially considering the violent death of my mother. But I couldn’t desert Penelope. I knew better than most how difficult the grieving process was, especially when well-meaning friends and family were in your face, constantly asking if you were okay. I would provide her with a little normalcy and much needed support.

  As I unlocked and opened the door to my truck, a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A figure stood at the edge of my property, staring toward me.

  I stiffened, then strained to make out the face of the stranger.

  It appeared to be a man, but I couldn’t tell from this distance, more than a football field away. He was standing at the edge of the wooded area that separated my land from Cooper Adams’s land wearing an orange hoodie. Coop and I actually shared the wooded area, and though I was sure there was written documentation of where my property stopped and his began, neither of us seemed concerned about knowing, since neither of us planned to cut down the trees or develop the wooded area. We both enjoyed the wildlife that lived in and around that part of our land.

  And ever since I was a little kid, there had been a path connecting the two properties. Of course, when I was younger, Coop’s land was owned by Old Mr. Kuster. He and my parents had added a bench to a small clearing in the woods, and that had been a great spot to get a moment alone when I was a teenager.

  I was sure Coop and Lil probably had found that little spot. I hadn’t been through there in more than a year, but the bench was still there then. And in decent condition.

  I closed the door to my truck again and started walking in the direction of the stranger. He was too short to be Coop or Luke. And neither of them would stand there and stare at me like that.

  Because it was cloudy, and the sun was already setting, I didn’t have the best light.

  Not to mention I wasn’t wearing shoes for traipsing across the field.

  The sound of a vehicle turning into my drive had me spinning around to see Luke driving toward me. Instead of walking to greet him, I turned back around to eye the strange man.

  As I did, he turned and walked away toward Coop’s.

  “Hey!” Luke called as he exited his truck. “You okay?” He was dressed in a navy suit and an orange tie, and he simply took my breath away.

  I walked toward him, opened my mouth to say something, then stopped. “Why are you here?” I glanced back over my shoulder, but no one was there. Whoever it was, he was long gone.

  “You first. What were you doing just now?”

  I gave my head a shake. “Someone was standing over there.”

  Luke walked past me and looked in the direction I had been. “Can you describe them?”

  “I think male. Young, if I had to guess. Wearing an orange hoodie.”

  “Tennessee Vols orange?”

  “No, more like hunters’ orange,” I said. “I’m sure it was just someone working on Coop’s fencing. He’s been having a lot of work done lately.”

  He eyed me. “Yeah, but no one should have wandered that far over onto your land.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard Detective Fish questioned you yesterday.”

  “So? You knew she would. A photograph of me was found at the murder scene—a photograph that shouldn’t have been there.”

  “Was she hard on you?”

  I thought about it for a second. “Actually, no. I don’t say this about a lot of detectives, but she impressed me. She’s not wasting time on dead ends. When she knows something doesn’t fit, she crosses it off the list. Y’know?”

  “I do. Hopefully, she has good instincts. Time will tell.” He reached a hand to grab a strand of hair that had blown across my face and push it behind my ear. “Have you heard from Darren?”

  “No, and I left like six messages. I gave his contact information to Detective Fish. Maybe she’ll have better luck.”

  “I called the sheriff out in Colorado that investigated the death of Darren’s night watchman. If you can call it an investigation,” he added.

  “And?”

  “It was ruled a suicide, and the body was cremated. They never did an autopsy. Didn’t see a need to.” Luke rolled his eyes before redirecting me back to the reason he was here. “Want to tell me more about the questioning?”

  Why did he have to stand so close? It disrupted my ability to think clearly. “No need.”

  He touched a finger to my chin and lifted. “Why do I have to convince you every time we’re together that I’m on your side? I thought the hyperthymesia would help you remember how good we are together.”

  I smiled. “That’s cute.” I looked up at him. “You know that’s not how this works.”

  “How what works?”

  “You and me. I know you’re on my side. That’s why I told you someone was standing at the edge of my property. That’s why you helped me get photos of the crime scene. We’re friends. We help each other.”

  He leaned down and kissed me. A tap of his lips to mine at first, then he pressed harder. One hand rubbed my back, pressing me closer; the other rested at the base of my neck as it fisted a handful of hair.

  When he released me, he said, “Do all of your friends do that?”

  “A significant percentage.”

  He frowned, and I smiled.

  “Seeing as I have like four friends, I’d say twenty-five percent of them do that. That’s a decent percentage.”

  He grabbed me again. Kissed me even harder this time. Thankfully, I hadn’t bothered to put lipstick on. Otherwise, we’d both be wearing it.

  “Now,” he said, still holding me close. “Want to tell me about the questioning?”

  “There wasn’t much to it,” I said, pulling away so the pleasant electric hum coursing through my body could subside enough for me to concentrate. “She tried to play it tough at first, but then just kind of gave up. She wanted to know about the photo. I think they have some sort of forensic evidence they’re not talking about. She mentioned that most of the evidence led them to lean on Penelope pretty hard. But something stopped them from arresting her. They must’ve found something between the night of the crime and when they questioned her that stopped them from making a quick arrest.”

  “Did you see anything else in the pictures you took?”

  “Nothing stood out other than the framed photo of Darren and me. But I keep thinking about the back door being open. And of course, I wonder about all the testing they would have done on the wine glass, wine bottle, and the powdery substance on the counter.”

  “I’m sure they interviewed the neighbors,” Luke said. “Maybe one of them saw someone coming or going from the house.”

  “Maybe,” I sighed. “But if any eyewitnesses had seen anything, it would have been all over town.” I glanced up at him. “Then there’s the pill bottle on the kitchen counter. If Penelope had taken Ambien, she wouldn’t have carried the pill bo
ttle to the kitchen. I feel like she would have just grabbed one and left the bottle in her medicine cabinet. She wouldn’t risk leaving the bottle where Danny might reach it. And besides that, Penelope is smart enough not to mix Ambien with any amount of alcohol.”

  Luke touched a finger to my forehead. “I know you want to clear your friend, but let’s push it aside for tonight. Let’s help her say goodbye to her husband.”

  I tilted my head into his chest and slid my hands to his waist. “Thank you for coming. I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  His arms wrapped around me. “I’m going to keep working to make you see otherwise.”

  While Aunt Leah went to the funeral home, Luke and I got the responsibility of feeding Oliver a small bowl of baby cereal.

  Luke hung his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs and stood behind me, making faces at Oliver and playing peek-a-boo.

  In between mushy bites of rice mush, Oliver laughed at Luke. The more Oliver laughed, the more animated Luke became.

  Suddenly, Oliver decided to blow raspberries, spewing white cereal all over the front of my black dress. Oliver thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever done.

  I stretched my hands out to the side—one holding the spoon, the other holding the bowl of cereal—and looked down at my dress.

  Luke, still standing behind me, said, “Uh-oh,” in a voice that clearly told Oliver that they were still playing, so Oliver blew another raspberry.

  I stood and backed away. “He’s clearly not hungry anymore.”

  Luke looked at me and didn’t stop himself from laughing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” I asked. “The two of you clearly think spewing white goop all over me is hilarious.” Realizing what I had just said, I narrowed my eyes. “Well, that came out wrong.” I set the bowl and spoon in the sink, then tossed a clean towel to Luke. “You can clean him up. I’m going to go see what I can do to make myself presentable for a funeral.”