by Burton, Mary
Lots of overgrown plants crept up the brick and mortar and a couple of windows on the top floor had been knocked out with rocks. The place looked like it had been vacant for years and in need of attention.
As much as he admired the construction, places like this made the muscles in his back tighten. Maybe because when he’d been a kid in the trailer park, he’d once dreamed of having a fancy house. Maybe because when he’d signed with the Falcons he’d just placed a bid on a fine house he would later relinquish. Shit. Maybe he just didn’t trust the types born with silver spoons. They liked to believe they lived by a different set of rules. That consequences didn’t apply.
Adrianna Barrington Thornton was from the silver spoon world. He doubted she’d ever broken a sweat or one of her pretty nails.
Gage climbed the front steps, noting the way the boards creaked. He crossed the wide front porch to the door, which was ajar. Instead of knocking, he walked into the foyer. The place smelled of mothballs and dust, and though the windows were open, the poor light and dank feeling made it easy to forget that it was a sunny day. Like a damn morgue, he thought as he moved down the center hallway and his polished boots creaked on darkened pine floors.
He glanced in the first big room on his right. It was a parlor. Sheets covered the furniture, and the portraits that had hung on the walls had been removed. The only traces of them were the faded outlines on the walls. Somewhere a clock ticked.
He moved in a room on the left and saw that the pictures had been moved in there and crated. Gage sauntered out of the room and down the center hallway. When he reached the door he peered inside and saw Adrianna speaking to another woman. “Excuse me.”
Adrianna and the woman turned. He swallowed a curse when he saw Kendall Shaw Warwick’s face. Boss’s wife. Ex-reporter. Trouble. His emotions must have registered on his face because Adrianna’s pale eyes mirrored faint amusement.
“Detective Hudson. You know my sister, Kendall Shaw Warwick.”
Seeing them together, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Kendall’s coloring was darker, her skin tones more olive. Adrianna was blond, her complexion as pale as cream. Kendall was a knockout but Adrianna was the one that ignited his blood. “Ms. Warwick.”
“Detective.”
“Ms. Warwick, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions for Ms. Barrington.”
Adrianna shifted, her amusement vanishing. “Sure.”
Kendall picked up on the shift in her sister’s mood and her gaze glanced quickly between them. She seemed to detect a crackle of tension that extended far beyond this case. “My, my.”
Adrianna shot Kendall an embarrassed glance that warned her to be quiet.
Kendall smiled. “Adrianna, if you’re okay, I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Thanks, Kendall. I’m good.”
“Too bad I’m not a reporter anymore, Detective Hudson.” The comment was designed to rattle. “I’d take this story national.”
Gage blocked Kendall’s exit. “This stays under wraps for now, Ms. Warwick.”
Kendall’s gaze didn’t waver. “That an order?”
Gage held her glare, willing to go toe to toe with her. He didn’t care if she was the president’s wife. “A request, ma’am.”
Kendall lifted a brow, not the least bit intimidated. “Not to worry, Detective. I promised Adrianna I’d keep silent and I will. I’ll call you later, Adrianna.”
“Let me know if anyone picks up the story,” Adrianna said.
“No one’s going to,” Gage said.
Kendall shook her head. “They won’t hear of it from me, but I promise you this is going to leak out within seventy-two hours.”
He couldn’t deny the truth of her words. “Just do your part.”
“Oh, I will.” Kendall tossed another assessing glance at Gage that said Hurt my sister and you’ll have me to contend with and left.
Gage shoved his hands in his pockets and listened to the click of heels as she moved down the hallway and out the door. When her car fired up, he turned to Adrianna. “Let’s hope the story comes out later than sooner. Not just for your sake or mine, but for the victims’.”
“We are on the same side in this matter, Detective. I want the graves relocated. Bad press could mess all that up.”
Formal. Reserved. And it galled him. With an effort, he shifted his attention from her to the desk behind her. Stacks of ledgers covered the antique finish. “Looks like you’ve got some reading.”
“Just old papers I’ve got to dig through.”
He struggled to relax his stance, wanting to defuse their rippling tension.
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out.”
Long hands smoothed over jeans that weren’t everyday jeans, but designer. Expensive. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Your husband didn’t have brothers or sisters?”
“No. He was the last of his line. There’s only been one male heir for the last several generations.”
Gage glanced around the room, studying the heavy wood paneling and the empty floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “This place is chock full of history and secrets.”
“More than I’ll likely ever know.”
He moved to a bank of dusty shelves recently stripped of books. “Is the money from the land sale going to your bills? I mean, the nursing home must have been real pricey.”
“If I’m lucky, I’ll clear all the debts.” The topic seemed to make her uncomfortable. “Is there something specific you’d like to ask me? I’ve got a lot of work.”
“Just came to tell you we’ll be on-site for a while.” He’d tear this whole damn place apart if that’s what it took to find out who was in that grave. “The work at the cemetery is suspended until I say otherwise.”
Full lips flattened. “How long will that be?”
“Until the job is finished.”
“I’ve got to finish that grave relocation within thirty days or the land sale is void.”
“We’ll be done when we’re done.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I’m calling my attorney today. He’ll ensure you don’t dawdle.”
The knocks Adrianna had taken over the last couple of years had transformed her unsure, wide-eyed innocence into leveled confidence. This Adrianna wasn’t afraid to roll up her sleeves and fight. Good. He preferred her this way. Mentally he stripped off the gloves.
Gage leaned forward. “You sure you don’t have any idea who might be in that grave?”
Her long fingers curled into fists. “I really don’t know.”
“Why’d you ask Miller to sweep the land inside the cemetery with radar?”
“It seemed prudent. I was worried there’d be some kind of surprise that would void the land sale.”
“Like a dead body?”
“I had no idea what Miller would find today.”
He studied her face closely. “Now, why don’t I believe that?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re paranoid.”
“That’s part of the reason the county pays me, ma’am.”
They stood there a moment, the heavy divide between them widening. “Well, if anything should come to you that you think I should know, you’ll call, won’t you?”
She drummed her fingers on her thigh. Again, gold and diamonds flashed. “I have a consultation in New York. It’s a good client and I’ve got to be there for a meeting on Friday.”
“Well, I guess you’re going to have to cancel.”
Exasperation lit up her eyes. “I don’t trust your agenda, Detective. You hounded my late husband. He thought you were out to get him. Maybe you still are.”
In a blink, mildly annoyed morphed to pissed. “I had questions that he refused to answer. That combination never sets well with me, ma’am.” His left hand slid into his pocket and rattled loose change. “You jerk me around like he did and I’ll be after you just as fast.”
Adrianna didn’t flinch. “You play fair and so will I, Detectiv
e.”
“Why’d you have Miller sweep that land?”
“Like I said, to cover my bases.”
Gage shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t help that.”
He removed his hand from his pocket and waggled his index finger slowly, deliberately. “You know what, Ms. Barrington, if you’ve got something to say that I need to hear, you best say it.”
“I’ve nothing to say.”
“You’re not protecting your late husband?”
“No.” Unconsciously, her thumb fidgeted with her wedding bands.
“You can try to run from the past but you won’t escape it. Fact, I’m willing to bet it’s about to rear its ugly head and bite you in the ass.”
Chapter Seven
Tuesday, September 26, 2:15 p.m.
Dr. Alex Butler had been on his feet for sixteen hours when he got the call about the partly unearthed skeleton at the Thornton estate. His lower back ached from standing over the autopsy table and his feet hurt.
Alex rarely wasted time worrying about what couldn’t be fixed. It was an illogical use of time. So accepting that the aches and pains would remain until he could get some rest, he focused on what he could fix: the hunger chewing at his gut. He’d stopped to grab six turkey club sandwiches, a few waters, and a half dozen apples en route to the crime scene. He’d eaten two sandwiches as he drove and stored the remaining food in a cooler that he always kept in his car. It had been his experience that jobs like this took a long, long time. Hunger was a distraction he didn’t wish to factor.
Dr. Butler was tall and lean and had thick blond hair that swept over brown eyes. A quick gait added to a youthful appearance that made it easy to assume he was much younger than his thirty-three years. Youth. It had stalked him since he’d entered high school at age ten, graduated from medical school at fourteen, and been awarded a PhD in anthropology at twenty.
For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to look older. Be older. And his prayers had earned him a baby face.
His intelligence set him apart and made others uncomfortable, angry sometimes. Logic dictated if he were kind and helpful, he’d be accepted. But his two hundred plus IQ intimidated most and kept them at a predictably polite distance. Consequently, most of his spare time was spent alone.
Having little success with the living, he’d narrowed his focus in on the dead. But lately, the dead had become as predictable as the living. Two years in the medical examiner’s office had been fascinating, but in recent months, he’d toyed with the idea of contacting his old boss in Hawaii and rejoining the search for MIA soldiers. There was also an offer from Boston’s medical examiner’s office. It paid well and the change of scenery would interest him for a time. However, experience suggested the inevitable ennui would return and with it bring the restless energy he found maddening.
Alex parked his state-issue four-door sedan behind the forensics van and grabbed his notebook. Closing the door, he pressed Lock on the keyless entry and then tugged the handle for good measure. Six patrol cars were parked on-site as well as a couple of unmarked police vehicles. This case had piqued the interest of quite a few officers.
Alex spotted Tess standing inside the yellow crime scene tape sketching the layout. A blue jumpsuit skimmed narrow hips and mud-coated scuffed boots. Ink-dark hair twisted into a topknot skewered by a pencil. She was frowning. Always frowning.
It was never easy or predictable with Tess. She rarely minced words and was quick to launch verbal strikes if she suspected a screwup. She reminded him of a tornado or hurricane. Magnificent. Wild. And a man could study both all his life and still not know what it would spare or ravage.
A smile tipped the edge of his lips. He liked that about her. Liked her passion. Her volatility.
Alex spotted Hudson and moved toward him. “Detective.”
Hudson shook his hand. “Dr. Butler. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“Alex.”
“Right.”
Alex had only crossed paths with Hudson a couple of times. Hudson was good at playing the hick, but that good ol’ boy demeanor hid a sharp mind. Hudson also had one hell of a work ethic and like a dog with a bone, didn’t let go of a case until it was solved or there was nothing left to pursue. Alex’s dad had once scrounged an old Sports Illustrated and shown him an article about Hudson’s football career. His early retirement had been a shock to all.
“Tell me what you have,” Alex said.
Hudson shook his head. “All I know is that I have a partly unearthed skull. Tess didn’t want to open up the grave until you got here. Said you know about this kind of stuff.”
Alex nodded. “That was smart. The excavation has got to be done right or evidence could be lost.”
Hudson didn’t seem pleased. “That sounds like it’s going to take time.”
“It will.”
“How fast can you do this?”
“I don’t know.”
Hudson rested his hand on his hip. “Doc, I’ve got to tell you, I’d love to see this done by yesterday.”
“That’s impossible.”
Even white teeth flashed conjuring images of a lion on the hunt. “I know. What I’m saying is when can you give me some information?”
“I’ve got my brushes and small trowels in my trunk. Let me check in with Tess and we’ll get started right away. As soon as I know something, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Hudson rubbed the back of his neck. “Be warned, Tess is in a foul mood.”
Alex raised a brow. “Why?”
“Pissed that the construction crew trampled her site.”
Alex pulled rubber gloves from the pocket of his khakis and slipped them on. “Never a dull moment with Ms. Kier.”
Hudson chuckled. “No, siree. Never dull.”
Alex moved toward the yellow tape. “May I enter?”
Tess’s gaze swung around and for a moment murder flashed in her blue eyes. When she recognized him, the look softened only a little. “What took you so long?”
“Work. Traffic. The usual. Mind if I approach?”
“Go ahead. I’ve photographed and sketched all that I can.” He ducked under the tape and together they walked to the earth mound.
Alex squatted, pulled wire-rimmed glasses from his breast pocket, and studied the site as a whole and then started to key in on specific details. “Do you have a flashlight?”
She pulled a small flashlight from the pocket of her jumpsuit and tossed it to him.
He caught it easily and clicked it on. Peering down the hole, he studied the skull. “Looks like it’s down about eight inches to a foot.”
Tess knelt beside him and a slight breeze caught her scent. Soap. Clean. Surprisingly floral. “What’s the protocol when digging up a site like this?”
“We’ll start excavating around the head and upper torso first.”
“Why not the whole body at once? I take the top, you take the bottom.”
“We don’t know the bottom’s exact location. Body could be flat or angled. This way we’ll have an idea about the position before we move to the lower part.”
“Right.”
“I’ll pull soil off in layers, give it to you, and you can sift and search for artifacts, bone, et cetera.”
“All right.”
“I hope you’ve eaten. It’s going to take a while.”
“I’m fine.”
He rose and clicked off the light. “Is that a yes or no?”
Standing, she brushed the dirt from her knees. “A no. But I’m fine.”
“How long do you believe you can function on an empty stomach?”
Tess’s chin jutted out a fraction. “Is this a quiz?”
“It’s a straightforward question.”
“Then I’d say as long as I need to, Alex.”
Her tone puzzled him. “Are you always this defensive?”
Her gaze narrowed like a boxer entering the ring. “I am not defensive.”
“I’ll admit to stubborn. But I’ve no weaknesses.”
The illogical nature of the statement made Alex laugh. The day was looking up. “We’ll see.”
Gage and Vega found Mazur on the site of his latest road project, standing on the five-foot-tall wheel of a Bobcat talking to its operator. He wore construction boots, beat-up jeans, and an old, dirt-smudged shirt. Wind-tossed hair accentuated the lines deepened by the sun. If the foreman hadn’t pointed him out, Gage wouldn’t have pegged him for the decked-out guy he’d met this morning.
He waited for Mazur to wrap up his instructions to his driver before calling out. Mazur turned, his frown deepening. He hopped to the ground and strode toward them. “Detective Hudson. You must be here about the graves.”
“Right.”
“It’s a real pisser.” Mazur’s accent, Chicago maybe, sharpened the words. “Last damn thing I expected.”
“I’d say that’s true for everyone, including the families of the victims.” Gage’s temper railed against its leash.
Mazur looked bored. “Look, I’ve got work. Ask me your questions and leave.”
Gage leaned forward, his frame rigid and uncompromising. “What were you doing on the estate?”
“Protecting my investment. I’ve paid a lot of money for that property. I wanted to make sure the job was done right. I want those graves removed from my property.”
“Why do you want the graves moved?”
“I just got married and my wife doesn’t want dead bodies on the land.”
“You’re a hands-on kind of guy,” Vega said.
“That’s right. Want it done right, do it yourself.”
Gage rested his hands on his hips. “Then why have Adrianna Barrington move the graves? Why not handle the job yourself?”
“A guy moves to a conservative Southern state from the North and buys an old house beloved by all. And then he announces he wants to dig up the family graveyard. You know what that equals?”
“What?”