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

by Heather Sunseri

  We could officially place the convicted felon at the scene of three murders. Granted, I’d only seen him inside the funeral home during Danny’s visitation. We had yet to place him inside Paula Shepherd’s minivan.

  It was probably for the best that Faith and I hadn’t spoken about Matisse this morning. I had a really good agent on her. He’d keep a close watch—keep her safe until we flushed this asshole out of whatever sewer he was hiding in.

  But I had to get this finished. I was sure she meant what she said this morning, and I was sure I was in love with her, too. We needed time together—without a dark cloud of a multiple murder investigation—to properly focus on this huge step of building a house together on her land.

  I pulled up at Coop’s just after ten a.m. We were getting a late start, but I’d been delayed at Faith’s, and Coop and I had gotten in late last night.

  As I climbed out of my truck, Coop walked out, shrugging into his suit jacket. “Hey! We need to head straight to the Lexington Detention Center.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  We both climbed into the SUV before he answered. “They brought Alice in for questioning this morning. Time to rattle her cage and find out exactly what she knows.”

  Coop and I entered through the detention center’s processing area.

  We flashed our badges at the uniformed duty officer who sat behind a large desk that was built up on a platform. “We’re looking for Special Agent Crain.”

  He peered down at our badges, then at us over his readers. He pointed an ink pen down the corridor. “Room 2, second door on the right.”

  “Thanks.”

  We made our way toward the row of interview rooms and found Room 2. I looked inside the narrow window in the door, making eye contact with Agent Crain. Across from her, Alice Jones sat with her arms crossed, and her legs outstretched in front of her. She looked pissed.

  Crain stood and approached the door. As she opened it, Alice said, “Can I go?”

  “No,” Agent Crain said, then rolled her eyes in my direction.

  “What the fuck?” Alice screamed. “You can’t hold me!”

  “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong,” Agent Crain motioned for Coop and me to enter. “Come in, gentlemen. We’re just getting started.”

  We walked in and stood on the other side of the table from Alice. She straightened. “What the fuck?” she screamed again. “Y’all ain’t got shit on me. I know my rights.”

  “Miss Jones,” Agent Crain opened a manilla folder and pulled out a four-by-six photograph and slid it across the table. “Want to tell me what this is?”

  Alice looked at the picture, then back to Agent Crain. “That don’t prove a damn thing.”

  “The Drug Enforcement Agency has a man in custody who is just dying to cut a deal with federal prosecutors. He says that he has information about the transaction happening in this photo.”

  I turned my head and studied the dark image. It was definitely Alice, and by the surroundings it appeared to be taken at night at a gas station. The other person in the photo—a man, by the looks of it—was handing something to Alice. The timestamp on the photo showed the photograph was taken a week ago Thursday.

  “You want to tell us what’s going on in that photo?” Agent Crain asked again.

  Alice crossed her arms. “I’m not telling you jack shit without a lawyer.”

  Agent Crain swiped away the photograph, stuck it back inside the folder, and carried the folder toward the door. “Suit yourself. You’re a repeat drug offender clearly engaging in a narcotics transaction. An officer will be here shortly to get you processed for trafficking. Once you’re processed, you’ll be given your phone call.”

  Before Agent Crain had one foot outside the door, Alice had a change of heart. “Wait! I’ll tell you what you want to know. I didn’t hurt no one. I’m not the one you want.”

  Agent Crain let the door close and turned but kept a hand on the doorknob. “I’m listening.”

  “I was just told to make the buy.”

  “Meaning?” Agent Crain asked.

  “Someone gave me the money, told me where to make the purchase, and I delivered the package. I don’t even know what was in it.”

  That’s bullshit, I thought. But I stayed quiet.

  “Who gave you the money? And who did you deliver the “package” to?”

  Alice turned her head and looked at the blank wall. “They’ll kill me,” she said in a soft voice.

  I walked to the other side of the small room, trying to get her to look at me. “Alice, the only way we can protect you is if you tell us who we’re protecting you from.” I pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from her. “Look, four people are dead, and these murders are linked. If you withhold information, and someone else ends up killed? We’re charging you with accessory to murder. That’ll earn you a helluva lot more prison time than the drug charge.” That was a stretch but not too much of one.

  She let her head drop. “I didn’t know anyone was going to die.”

  “Alice, you told me you saw someone walking from the Thoroughbred Motel to the Spotted Cat. Who was that?” I asked.

  She squared her shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “Ethan Gentry.”

  My spine stiffened at the name. I hadn’t decided whether I thought Ethan was innocent or guilty in everything going on, but his name came up more than I liked. “The other day you weren’t so sure. Said it was too dark to see.”

  “I was lying,” she said.

  Or she was lying now, I thought.

  “Who did you buy the drugs for?” Agent Crain asked.

  Alice balled her hands into fists. “I told you. I don’t know what was in that package.”

  “Well, who did you give the package to?” Agent Crain pressed harder.

  Several moments of silence passed as she considered how to answer.

  I decided to go on instinct based on Ethan’s verified alibi from the other night. “If you lie to us again, we walk out, and you get locked up.”

  “I ain’t lying.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t see Ethan Gentry walk from the motel to the Spotted Cat the other night. So you can tell us the truth or we’re done here. You can go before the judge and explain that drug transaction. Judge Harris lost a granddaughter to an opioid overdose. Ever since, he’s been quite the hardass with drug dealers. But who knows? He might go easy on you.”

  Agent Crain gave me a side glance with a look that said, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Finally, Alice looked from the white wall, where she’d been staring a hole, to Agent Crain and then me. “Fine, but if he kills me, my death will be on the three of you.”

  “Who did you deliver the drugs to, Alice?”

  “J.P. Matisse.”

  “And who did you see last Friday night leaving the motel and entering the Spotted Cat?”

  “J.P.”

  “Is that who carved the skull and crossbones into your back?” Coop asked immediately.

  Alice scoffed. “Yeah.” Her hands began to shake. Gone was the arrogance she’d shown when I first entered. “He’s a sick son of a bitch,” she admitted. “He told me that Byron wanted me marked for my protection. That I would belong to Byron forever.”

  “Do you want to belong to Byron?”

  “The leader of the Whiskey Mafia? Hell yes!” Alice didn’t hesitate. “But J.P. lied.”

  “How did he lie?” I asked.

  “Byron all but laughed at me when I told him what J.P. did. He said J.P. was on the Bad News List. And that there was no way he’d give J.P. the authority to mark me.”

  “Bad News List?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. It’s when a member fucks up or fails to repay a debt to the gang.”

  “What happens when your name is on that list?” Coop asked.

  “Members of the gang know to attack you on sight.”

  “As in rough that person up?” I asked.

  “O
r get rid of them completely,” Alice clarified.

  “Bad News List seems like a weak name for a list that carries a lot of weight among gangs.”

  “I didn’t come up with the fucking name,” Alice spat.

  Ignoring the outburst, I asked, “How did J.P.’s name end up on this list?”

  “I have no idea.” Alice shrugged. “That’s the God’s honest truth,” she said when I narrowed my eyes.

  “So why did J.P. carve the skull and crossbones into your back?”

  Alice shrugged. “Because he could? He likes to control people? He needed to send you assholes a message? Take your pick.”

  I considered Alice’s smugness from when we were at the hospital. She was proud of the symbol on her back. She considered the symbolic meaning of the branding to offer her protection, but instead, she was used.

  Special Agent Crain stepped forward. “You thought he loved you.”

  “It’s pathetic, I know.” She swiped at her cheek when a tear dropped, but I had a difficult time buying her emotions now after how cold she was when we first entered. She could be telling the truth, but my money was that she was playing us. However, on the off chance that she was telling the truth, I decided to give her the chance to redeem herself.

  “Why did you go see Byron Mills last week?” I asked.

  “Who said I did?”

  “Surely you know that the prison keeps records of who comes and goes? And they record all conversations. Besides, you just mentioned that you spoke to him.”

  Her eyes widened briefly before she looked away.

  “Alice,” I said. “You have the opportunity to do something good here. Tell us why you met with Byron. Help us find John Paul. Help us put a stop to these killings.”

  She stared at me for one, two, three beats before she said, “Make me a deal, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  While Special Agent Crain worked on a deal between the Commonwealth’s Attorney and Alice, Coop and I headed across town to pay a not-so-friendly visit to the Spotted Cat.

  “Ethan around?” I asked the woman behind the bar.

  An overweight woman with shoulder-length hair and short bangs stared at my badge for several seconds before she focused on my face. “He may have come in during the past thirty minutes. I’ve been stocking deliveries.” She lifted her head toward the back. “Check his office.”

  Coop and I walked the length of the bar, then pushed through a swinging door that led down a hallway and into an office that Ethan once used as a living space.

  Ethan wasn’t there.

  He’d made some changes to the space. He’d added a nicer desk, a larger television, and a bookshelf that held quite a few books. I scanned the titles and realized they were books on running a small business, managing a restaurant and bar, and bartending guides.

  The space was tidier than I had expected. Not sure why I expected otherwise. It wasn’t like I knew Ethan.

  While I used a handkerchief from my pocket to leaf through a pile of magazines on a coffee table in front of a leather sofa, Coop glanced around Ethan’s desk.

  “Hey,” Coop said to get my attention.

  When I looked up, he motioned me over and pointed to an area beneath Ethan’s desk where shavings of paper gathered beside a wastebasket.

  Coop got out his phone and took pictures of the paper from magazines and newspapers that appeared to have been cut with scissors.

  Seeing a box of tissues, I grabbed one and lifted the trashcan to look inside. Inside the trashcan was a full page torn from a magazine. Holes were cut into the title of a magazine article, and letters were missing.

  “We need a warrant,” I said. “And we need it fast.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  FAITH

  Aunt Leah typed into her computer while I bounced a happy Oliver on my knee. She still had a few accounting and payroll clients in town. Not everyone knew us as the family full of liars and murderers.

  “I told Luke that I loved him,” I said as I made a goofy face at Oliver.

  Aunt Leah swiveled around in her task chair. Her smile reached all the way to her wide eyes. “You buried the lead! You’ve been here fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you tell me that as soon as you got here?”

  I shrugged. “It’s new.”

  “New, my ass,” she said.

  I covered Oliver’s ears. “Aunt Leah! Language!”

  She rolled her eyes but kept smiling at me. “It’s about time. That man has been pining for you for so long.”

  “He didn’t tell me he loved me back, not even when I told him I wanted to rebuild my family home with him.”

  “I’m guessing he was in shock. As am I. A happy shock, but shock, nonetheless. What brought all this on?”

  “It’s been building for a while now, but when I saw how much Oliver lit up last week when he saw Luke, and how comfortable he was with you, it finally hit home. He fits.” I didn’t bring up how Luke had comforted me during one of my hyperthymesia episodes, all the times he’s come to my rescue, or how good we were in bed. “That doesn’t happen with just anyone. Luke didn’t have to establish a relationship with you and Oliver.”

  “No, he did that because he’s in love with you, and has been since shortly after meeting you. He’s just been waiting for you to come around. And come back to Paynes Creek.”

  “And that’s another thing. I didn’t know I would ever come back. But he did. Despite all the reasons I should have run from Paynes Creek forever, he knew I wouldn’t.”

  “He knows you,” she said. “Besides, he would have come looking for you eventually.”

  “He does know me. And he said the same thing—that he would have come after me if I hadn’t returned soon. My heart ached for months after he left me in Colorado. I tried to avoid his phone calls, I distracted myself with work, and I didn’t tell him I was back because I hoped that feeling in my heart would fade.”

  “Why?” Aunt Lea asked.

  “Because, like people keep pointing out, trouble follows me wherever I go.”

  “Hogwash!”

  “That’s what Lil and Coop told me at Steven’s visitation. In different words, of course.”

  “Good. You have friends here. New friends as well as old friends who need you. And who are here for you.”

  I thought of Penelope. The way her mother jumped in head-first to help Marla yesterday was not a reflection on Penelope. I’d tell her that later. “You’re right. And it’s all those reasons that I decided to build. That and the fact that I’ve dreamed of building a home on that land for many years now. I just never had a reason to before.”

  “And Luke is that reason?”

  “He’s not the only reason. I realize it seems like I’m moving fast, but the kind of happiness he makes me feel smothers out so many of the bad memories that plague me every day.”

  “It’s not fast; it’s right. When you know, you know.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Leah.” I looked at my watch. “Now, I’ve got to get going to the grocery store and pick up ingredients for a fancy dinner.” I stood, hugging Oliver close and taking in the most amazing baby smell.

  Aunt Leah stood, as well, and took Oliver from me. He had fallen asleep in my arms while we talked.

  Aunt Leah kissed my cheek. “I’m happy for you, honey. Luke’s a good man. And you deserve happiness more than anyone in this world.”

  Lil was kind enough to give me a key to Luke’s apartment when I told her I wanted to surprise him.

  It was about four o’clock when I unloaded groceries into the barn apartment. My personal security detail—also known as an FBI special agent—was parked outside beside my SUV. Lil told me that police had been driving by the farm on a regular basis looking for John Paul Matisse but figured he had ventured into deep hiding now that they were on to him.

  Thoughts of a man following me around the country popped into my head as I organized my new purchases in Luke’s kitchen. Unfortunately, a vision of John Paul lying in wait disrupted what should
have been a blissful moment.

  I’d studied criminal activity and forensics over the years, and killers didn’t usually make mistakes like leaving easily discoverable DNA at the scene. Or linking their crime to other murders across state lines or to the activities of prison gangs, both of which attracted the attention of the feds.

  And then there was Paula Shepherd’s murder. How did she fit into the picture?

  I gave my head a shake. “No,” I told myself. “I will let Luke, Coop, and all the other investigators do their jobs.” I turned three-hundred-sixty degrees, then spotted a stereo on a console across the room.

  When I crossed the room, I discovered that it wasn’t just a stereo, but a turntable. Next, I opened a sliding door in the console and discovered dozens of old vinyl records.

  “Holy shit!” I flipped through the records and settled on a classic UB40 album.

  With the music cranked, I began prepping onions and mushrooms as I swayed to the reggae beat. I seared a beef roast before placing it in a Dutch oven with the onions, mushrooms, salt, pepper, and other ingredients to make my mother’s famous beef roast. I would serve it with red new potatoes and asparagus, and the perfect bottle of pinot noir, aptly inspired by “Red, Red Wine” blasting in the background.

  “Who was I?” I wondered aloud. I had told a man that I loved him. I was fixing dinner in his kitchen without his knowledge. This wasn’t me.

  Was this some new and improved version of Faith Day?

  Once the roast was in the oven, I had time to relax. It was only 4:30, and I didn’t expect Luke home before 7:00 at the earliest. The roast would take three hours but would keep after that. It was foolproof, my mom always said.

  Thankfully, I had brought my computer with me. I put on another record at a lower volume, settled into Luke’s sofa and began to work for a bit.