Buried Truth

by Jannine Gallant

  “Obviously I haven’t gotten over my tendency to go ballistic before I think things through. And I’m still messy.”

  “Yes, you are. And I’m still a neat freak.” His smile had a self-deprecating edge. “I hold grudges longer than I should. Still, I’m willing to make an effort to let go of the small stuff.”

  “If we can both do that, the larger problems have a way of working themselves out with a little effort.” She slid her hand around to the back of his neck. “Thanks for being big enough to make the first move after I told you to take a hike. I literally took a hike with Nina and cooled off. I was planning to call you.”

  “I’m glad, but I did have another reason for coming over. I stopped by Castaways for a beer and had a brief conversation with Pete while I was there.”

  “I can’t imagine any good coming from that.”

  “Apparently Brock’s in town again.”

  “Ugh.” She screwed up her lips. “He didn’t mention anything about it when I talked to him over the weekend.”

  Ryan frowned. “Why’d you talk to Brock?”

  “He called after he heard about my wreck to express concern for my welfare. That was decent of him, actually.”

  “Pete mentioned your ex lives in Astoria. Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence the con man struck there so soon after he fleeced elderly residents, including your grandma, here in Siren Cove?”

  “I did mention it to Brock. Of course he thought I was insinuating—”

  “You told him?” Ryan reared back. “Before or after that dirtbag bailed on the meeting with his intended victim?”

  “I think it was before. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He tried to ease off the sarcasm and failed. “Maybe because I’m wondering if Brock is the one robbing seniors.”

  “Are you kidding?” She pushed his arm aside and jumped up from the couch. “Don’t you think Gram would have recognized my ex-husband, for crying out loud?”

  “If his disguise was good enough—”

  “Brock may be a cheating weasel, but he doesn’t have the IQ of a stump. If he was the man running the con, he would never have approached my grandmother. Maybe he would have risked targeting her neighbor, but not someone guaranteed to nail his ass! Geez.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “Positive.”

  “I still don’t like the coincidence of this guy hitting elderly targets both here and in Brock’s new hometown. Something about the whole situation doesn’t feel right. If the guilty party isn’t Brock, maybe he’s someone your ex knows. I’d bet my damn business he’s the one who tipped off the con artist before the police could arrest him. Nothing else makes any sense.”

  “I don’t know . . .” She collapsed onto the couch. “You think this person is someone he met up in Astoria?”

  “Or he could be a buddy from around here. Or an old college friend. Who the hell knows, but you told Brock, and the suspect bolted. Unless someone on the police force tipped off the dude, it must have been Brock.”

  Leah held her head in her hands and let out a low moan. “God, I feel like an idiot. I never thought—”

  Ryan scooted over beside her. “This isn’t your fault.”

  She let out a breath and glanced up. Eyes dark with worry regarded him. “Then why do I feel like I totally blew it? Should we tell the police what we suspect?”

  “Let’s not rush into anything without facts. Maybe we can figure this out ourselves, going off the assumption Brock helped this whack job evade arrest.” Ryan squeezed her shoulder. “Quit beating yourself up and think. You probably know most of your ex-husband’s friends. Let’s start with that and this game he plays with aliases. Why would any of Brock’s good buddies assume the birth names of vintage pop stars as a disguise?”

  “I don’t know. Brock is a country music fan. No one our age listens to Tom Jones or Tony Bennett or any of the others. That music wasn’t even popular with our parents’ generation. More likely it was our grandparents who listened to them.”

  “True. His victims are from the age group most familiar with those singers. Do you think this guy gets off on tempting fate? Some people live for an element of danger.”

  “I suppose that could be it. But why use their birth names? Why singers and not movie stars? It all seems so random.”

  “Okay, let’s go at this from a different angle. Who are Brock’s friends and relatives he’s tight with, men he would be willing to protect even if they committed a crime?”

  Leah leaned back against the cushions and unclenched her fists. When Ryan picked up one hand to hold, she squeezed back. “His uncle Craig and cousin Del. Craig took him into their business after our divorce. I always liked both men, and I can’t imagine either one of them would commit a crime against the elderly.”

  “We’re looking for a man around our age, so let’s consider Del.” Ryan pulled his phone out of his pocket and released her hand to type. “Is his full name Delbert Hooker?”

  Leah nodded.

  “Hmm, nothing pops. Of course, I can’t check to see if this guy has a record, but the police will do that.” He glanced up. “Let’s try a few other options. Who are Brock’s closest friends?”

  “I don’t know who he’s hooked up with in the years since our divorce. As for old college buddies, he never kept in touch with anyone in particular after graduation. He spent his free time here in Siren Cove hanging out with Pete, and he’d get together with George whenever he was in town to visit his dad.”

  “Okay, let’s start there.” He typed Peter Brewster into his phone and hit enter. “Hmm, that’s too bad. No flashing neon indicators to tell me Pete’s the guilty party. That idiot seriously rubs me the wrong way.”

  “He was always a bad influence on Brock, encouraging him to party with the boys to the detriment of our relationship. Then he tried to shaft me during our divorce. That didn’t work out so well for either of them, since I had a better attorney.”

  Ryan grinned. “Good for you.”

  Her smile held a hint of old pain. “Water under the bridge now.”

  “If we can’t nail Pete for this, let’s check out George.” He typed George Dorsey into his phone then scanned the results. When the name Arnold George Dorsey caught his eye, he paused. “Isn’t George’s dad named Arnold?”

  “Yeah, why?” Leah leaned in to peer at his screen as he clicked on the entry.

  “Well, holy shit, look at that.”

  Leah read out loud, “Engelbert Humperdinck was born Arnold George Dorsey.” She turned to stare at him. “Oh, my God!”

  “So, George knew he had the same name as a famous singer and thought he’d be clever by using the birth names of other similar performers as aliases.” Ryan dropped his phone on the coffee table. “What an idiot. If he’d used a bunch of random names and disguises, we’d never have figured it out.”

  “You have to love an arrogant criminal who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. Even back in school, George was kind of an irritating know-it-all.” Leah turned to face him with a thoughtful frown. “George moved back to town not that long ago. I wonder if he lived near any of the places where the other scams took place.”

  “Pretty easy to find out. Even with this much information, we need to go to the police. Hopefully they can get a warrant to search his place and find enough evidence to make an arrest.”

  “And recover my grandma’s money.” Leah pushed down on his thigh to lever to her feet. “Should we call now or go report this in person?”

  “Let’s drive into town. I’ll feel more comfortable talking to someone face-to-face. Do you know how late the police station stays open?”

  “Damn, I’m sure the office is closed by now, but I have Chris Long’s cell number. I’ll call to see if he can meet us, but first I need to go get dressed.” She glanced over at Barney, who lay on the floor whining, with one paw stuck under the end of the couch. “You okay, boy?”

  “What’s his problem?”


  She walked around the coffee table to crouch beside the dog. “Can’t you reach your stick?” Rising to her feet, she regarded the dog with a frown. “He brought home a stick from our walk earlier and hid it under the couch before I could take it away. He’s going to scratch up the floor if we don’t get it out for him.”

  “I’ll move the couch. That thing is heavy.” Ryan stood and nudged her aside to grip the padded arm and swing the bulky sofa forward. “Can you reach it now?”

  Barney lunged between them and came out with the prize clamped between his teeth.

  “What the hell?” Dropping the couch with a thud, Ryan grabbed the dog’s collar. “That’s not a stick.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, it looks like a charred bone. Drop it, Barney.”

  The dog whined and tried to jerk away.

  When Leah knelt to pry open his jaws, the object fell to the floor. Ryan scooped up the bone before the dog could retrieve it. Turning the grimy, blackened thing in his hands, he frowned.

  “Looks like a femur that’s been through a fire and is splintered on one end. Barney might have caused some of the damage, chewing on it.”

  When the dog jumped up and whined, Leah fended off her pet. “Is it a deer leg?”

  Ryan set the bone on the back of the couch, out of Barney’s reach, then wiped his hands down the legs of his jeans and shuddered. “I’m no anatomy expert, but I’d swear that bone is human.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Leah rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shivered. “That’s just so freaky. Ugh. Why would there be a human bone in the woods? Do you suppose Barney dug up an old Native American burial site?”

  Ryan eyed the femur the way he probably would a glitch in his computer system. One part suspicion combined with determination to solve the puzzle.

  “It doesn’t look that old to me, but what do I know? Where, exactly, did he find it?”

  “That spot with the big rock we discovered on our hike a few weeks ago. You remember Barney was sniffing around the base of the stone, and we had to drag him away. This time he was digging over by the trees on the edge of the clearing. I swear he’s part bloodhound with that nose of his.”

  “I remember. That place gave me the—” His eyes widened, and he took a step away from the couch. “Oh, hell.”

  “What?” Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “You’re freaking me out, Ryan.”

  “The pictures from the time capsule. They were taken in a small clearing, and we thought the woman was lying on a table or platform of some sort covered with a cloth. What if it was that rock? It would be about the right height.”

  Leah pressed a hand to her mouth as she stared in horror at the bone. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.” Turning, she ran from the room and barely made it to the bathroom before she heaved up her guts. When her stomach stopped contracting, she reached out a shaky hand to flush the toilet.

  “Here.” Ryan handed her a wet hand towel.

  She took the dripping cloth and wiped her face, then closed her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m barely holding it together, myself.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about that poor girl who disappeared all those years ago, Merry Bright, wondering if that bone was part of her leg.” Leah let out a shuddering breath and stared at Ryan. “What are we going to do?”

  “Maybe I’m wrong and the femur isn’t human. We can hope we’re way off base.”

  “Either way, we still need to take it to the police.”

  He stepped aside when she stood and tossed the towel in the sink. “I guess so, but our concerns about who might have been involved back then haven’t changed.”

  “So we stay away from Chris Long, since we don’t know if his dad was the one who put the film in the time capsule. We can take the bone and our suspicions directly to Chief Stackhouse.”

  Ryan nodded, but his eyes were troubled. “I think I’d rather report this to Detective Stannard and leave the local police out of it.”

  She left the bathroom on shaky legs. “You want to drive all the way down to Coos Bay tonight? I don’t imagine he’s on duty this late.”

  “Probably not.” Ryan paused beside her at the foot of the stairs. “Maybe we should hike up to that clearing tomorrow to see if there’s anything else buried in the spot where Barney was digging. Neither of us are forensic experts. We might be freaking out over nothing. Then, depending on what we find, we can call Stannard or go in to see Chief Stackhouse.”

  “Except I have to work. Tomorrow is Halloween, and the kids are excited for their costume parade and party. I can’t disappoint them by asking for a substitute.”

  “I can hike up alone—”

  A chill shook her. “Call that detective and take him with you.”

  “I doubt he’ll want to drive all the way to Siren Cove simply because your dog found a bone that looks like it’s been on the grill too long.”

  “Ugh. Don’t say things like that.”

  “Sorry.” He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I’ll call Stannard in the morning, and we can take it from there. Obviously that bone has been buried for a while, so it isn’t like we have to make a quick decision tonight or panic and do something stupid. Right?”

  “I suppose not, although I’m not thrilled to have that thing in my house. Also, there’s still the matter of reporting George Dorsey.”

  “Crap, I’d already forgotten about him. Yeah, we need to tell the police about George’s connection to those aliases.” Ryan slid his hand down to her pajama-clad hip. “Are you going up to get dressed?”

  Leah nodded. “Can you call Chris Long while I change? His number is in my phone, and he knows all about my grandma’s case.”

  “I’ll take care of it. What’s your password?”

  “My birthday.” She glanced toward the living room where the bone still lay on the back of the couch. “Uh, do you mind putting that thing somewhere out of sight? Maybe in the carport. Honestly, I can’t bear to look at it, and I certainly don’t want Barney trying to get hold of it again.”

  “Sure.”

  After dressing in jeans and a sweater, she brushed her teeth and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dark shadows beneath her eyes looked like bruises against her still pale complexion. She took a moment to comb her hair, then gave her head a shake. Time to suck it up, forget about the charred femur, and go get justice for her grandma and the other seniors fleeced by George. Not that she didn’t feel sick knowing Brock had aided and abetted a criminal. The whole situation turned her stomach.

  She flipped off the light and headed downstairs. Ryan stood near the front door holding her jacket. She gave him a grateful smile as she slid her arms through the sleeves. “Thanks.”

  “You bet.” He handed over her phone. “Chris was working late and said he’d meet us at the station.”

  “Great. Let’s get this over with.”

  They drove into town, the twin beams barely penetrating the dense fog. Ryan braked before turning into the lot next to the police station as a cruiser pulled out with lights flashing.

  “Someone’s in a rush.”

  “Probably a car accident caused by this fog.” He parked and turned off the engine. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” When her phone pinged, she pulled it out of her pocket. “Damn it. Chris just texted. He was called out on an emergency. Now what?”

  “That must have been him leaving just now. I guess we can hang around until he returns. The station looks like it’s locked up tight. No lights on inside.”

  “Well, hell. I just want to be done with this.”

  “It’s damn frustrating.” He leaned forward when a marked vehicle turned into the lot and parked. “Hey, is Long back already?” Ryan unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the Jeep. “Must have been a false alarm.”

  The driver slammed his door and turned to face them. The outdoor spotlights illuminated Chief Stackhouse as he approa
ched. His steps slowed, and his brows shot up. “This is a surprise. What brings you two out at this hour? Not another problem, I hope.”

  “Oh, thank heavens.” Leah hurried toward him. “We have new information regarding the man who conned my grandma, and we had planned to meet Officer Long, but—”

  “Chris just headed out on a domestic disturbance call. I heard it over the scanner when I was on my way over. I think I left my damn phone on my desk. I’ve been at home hunting for it for an hour.” The chief waved an arm toward the station. “Come along with me, and I’ll take your information.”

  Leah hesitated. “If you’re not on duty—”

  “I’m always on duty.” After they followed him across the parking lot, he unlocked the door and held it open. “We’ll head back to my office.” He led the way toward the rear of the building, flipping on the lights as he went. “Right where I left it. Wouldn’t you know.” Stackhouse scooped the cell off a pile of folders and gestured toward a pair of club chairs. “Have a seat and tell me what the problem is now.”

  They sat, and Ryan laid a hand on her thigh and squeezed. “Not a problem. We believe we know who was responsible for conning seniors, including Leah’s grandma. You know those aliases he used were the birth names of singers popular in the sixties, right?”

  “You bet. I read Long’s report.”

  “Well, we just figured out Engelbert Humperdinck was born Arnold George Dorsey. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  The chief’s eyes narrowed. “You’re certain about this?”

  “About the name, definitely. It only took a few seconds to verify over the internet.”

  “Then, I’d say that’s enough to at least question George. I’ll need to get a warrant to look into his finances. That boy must have shit for brains, using disguises that could be traced back to him. Does he think cops are stupid?”

  “Apparently.” Leah clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m only sorry we didn’t figure it out sooner. What are the chances we’ll be able to recover my grandma’s money?”