Silent Graves (Brandon Fisher FBI Series)

by Carolyn Arnold

  I picked up the revolver at his side, clearing it from his reach.

  Only a few feet away, Officer Stenson lay on the floor, a gunshot to the chest and a bloody knife in his hand.

  Paige hurried over to him and called in for medical assistance. “Officer down.”

  Monica rose from behind the table, her arms in the air.

  “We’re FBI. We’re here to save you.” I extended a hand to her and helped her come out from around the table.

  I then noticed an awl on the floor, and the chain wrapped around Sydney’s wrists. It must have been how Stenson freed Monica. He was a hero. Time would tell whether he was a fallen one.

  Chapter 58

  We found the graves on the slant of a hill, in a wooded area near the river. An FBI helicopter hovered above, while on the ground investigators worked to uncover the remains of fifty women. This had been a killing ground long before Holmes. There was speculation that it dated back to Steve Manning, Campbell’s stepfather, since he had inherited the property from him.

  Nadia’s digging had uncovered that Barbara Wilson was the sister of Holmes’s mother and the one granted legal guardian status. With her husband working with Ken Campbell, it would have kept Holmes within easy reach. If that weren’t enough, up until now, Barbara had been the one paying for Campbell’s healthcare.

  She had been brought in for questioning, and, of course, she swore she had no idea that Campbell was even capable of such acts. Without evidence to hold her, she was released. She swore that he wouldn’t see another red cent from her.

  The accessibility to Melanie Chase was also there. We were still working on the connection to the other two victims, the one from nineteen seventy-three and two thousand. It was possible that they were random targets.

  Inside the house were a bunch of books—it must have been the literary collection Holmes had alluded to. Campbell was more likely than Holmes to be the reader, accounting for a fictitious quote he tried to pass off on Jack and me. Paige saw the books and said Campbell had been reading when they showed up to visit him at the home.

  Holmes had been taken off in an ambulance with a couple FBI agents who were entrusted with making sure he remained in custody and didn’t take action to terminate his life. He would pay for his crimes against these women.

  It was stated that before they put the oxygen on him, he had repeatedly chanted what he had said when we found him.

  “The graves lay silent. The graves lay untouched.”

  Campbell would face multiple charges, but it was unlikely we would get a sentence passed against a seventy-one-year-old Alzheimer’s patient. When questioned about the remains on his property, a sinister smile had lit his face. Those who witnessed it wondered if it were the Devil himself.

  I had no doubt the revolver we collected would tie back to the bullets pulled from Andy Gray. I also believed the DNA left behind in two thousand would be a match to Holmes. We also needed to know who belonged to the epithelial Chase took from her attacker.

  Stenson was rushed to the hospital. Sydney and Monica were tended to by paramedics—Monica with a broken wrist—and both followed behind him.

  The women would either be inseparable, bonded by their experience, or repelled because it would remind them of what they had lived through together. I sensed it would be the former.

  Sydney had confessed to an affair with Chad Holmes but said she knew him as Brad. Holmes had wanted to assume the life with Leslie so badly he had adopted her husband’s name. He had dyed Monica’s hair brown, like I had suspected he would.

  It was hard when Monica peered into my eyes and asked about Andy. I had to let her know he had been shot and killed. But the hardest part was when Ian Poole came running toward his wife and held her tightly.

  My heart ached from the reunion. I missed Deb, but I had to learn to let her go.

  Paige had noticed the expression on Brandon’s face when Ian Poole hugged his wife. There was definite heartache there. She’d had the urge to hold and comfort him, but he would be all right. He was a strong man. She also knew, in that moment, she had to let him go. He needed time to heal.

  She had stepped back from the group and headed to the burial sites where she’d watched the remains being recovered. She’d stood there for hours until Jack came and got her.

  Despite the early hour, it was now technically Monday, Becky Tulson was at the front door of PWPD to greet them. She hurried toward them but slowed her pace when she got near.

  She extended her hand to Paige. “Great job.” She smiled at her and Paige returned it, along with a nod as she kept walking.

  Paige turned to see the female officer stop in front of Brandon, but, instead of a handshake, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Paige saw happiness wash over Brandon’s expression.

  Chapter 59

  Paige didn’t know if this were a good idea, but she had no choice. She didn’t know what she would find once she got there, but she convinced herself she could handle anything.

  It was the wee hours of the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. While she stood outside Brandon’s house, she tried to talk herself out of it but couldn’t bring herself to turn around.

  She softly rapped her knuckles on the door, subconsciously giving herself a way out. If he heard the knock, he was awake, and they were meant to talk. Ringing the doorbell would leave nothing to chance.

  Her hand was braced to knock again when the door opened.

  There was no hint of a smile, but his eyes said it all, what are you doing here?

  “Can we talk?”

  “Now’s not a good time.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs.

  Paige’s stomach sank. The female officer was with him. He was moving on, and it was without her. She had to say the words she came to say before she was unable to form them. “I’m leaving the team.”

  His eyes went through her. He gave her no reaction. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

  “I’m not doing it for you.”

  Brandon nodded.

  He was dismissing her. He didn’t buy her line and didn’t care. She swallowed back the emotion that threatened tears.

  She woke up in a seated position, her heart beating rapidly. It had been a dream, a horrible nightmare. Surely Brandon would care if she left the team, wouldn’t he? She had to believe he would.

  She let her head fall to her pillow but couldn’t fall back asleep. Her stomach was tight with the tension that cinched it into a compact ball.

  Maybe the dream was telling her something. Was it possible her future no longer included the BAU?

  “I’m leaving the BAU?”

  Epilogue

  A couple weeks later...

  “You son of a bitch. You had us all scared.” Hanes stood to the side of Trent’s hospital bed. “What were you thinking anyway?”

  The shot to his shoulder had been a through and through. The bullet that had gotten him in the chest entered a mere fraction away from his heart. The doctors said he was extremely lucky.

  “Here we go. Another lecture by Lenny.” Trent tried to smile, but, with the pain medication, it didn’t fully form. “Guess I can make detective now that I risked my life.”

  “Let’s not get carried away. You were reckless.” Hanes smiled at his friend. “I will put in a word for you though. I almost forgot, but the lead agent had a few words about you too.”

  “Oh? What was that?”

  “Stupid kid could have gotten himself killed.”

  “Maybe I don’t need PWPD. I could be FBI.”

  “Now you’re really getting carried away. I don’t think he liked you all that much.”

  Both men laughed.

  It had been a long day but all the answers had finally come back. The revolver registered to Campbell was a match to the bullets that killed Gray, and the epithelial pulled from Chase also tied back to him. The soil collected from the burial sites, as well as the presence of the emerald ash borer in nearby trees, had confirmed that Nina Ha
rris had been buried on Campbell’s property.

  Holmes had found his victims, Leslie surrogates, through teaching spin class and being an in-home trainer. Nadia had dug up that he had also attended a few charity events, a couple of which Sydney and Amy hosted.

  The drug Holmes had used on the women was herbal based and wouldn’t affect Monica’s baby.

  Paige knew she should have gone straight home, it was after midnight, but she was drawn to a bar within walking distance of Brandon’s house. She had a couple of drinks and did her best to talk herself out of what she was thinking.

  An hour later, when she rung his doorbell it felt like a bad case of déjà vu. She was no longer hindered by the dream she had. She didn’t care if she woke him up. She didn’t care if he was dating that female officer from Dumfries and was lying naked in bed with her. She had to talk to him, and it couldn’t wait until the light of a new day. She had already waited long enough.

  The porch light came on, followed by the one inside. The door opened, and Brandon stood there, his eyes barely open. “Paige?”

  Just like her dream, his eyes said the rest, what are you doing here?

  “I’m sorry if it’s not a good time, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Don’t be crazy. Talk. You already woke me up.” He smiled lazily.

  She couldn’t allow fear to hold her back. Her stomach churned as she thought of the words to say.

  “I’m leaving the BAU.”

  Brandon opened the door wider and gestured for her to come inside.

  “It’s just that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this lately. It would be best for everyone if I—”

  Brandon took her mouth with a hunger she craved to elicit in him.

  A few seconds later, he pulled back and peered in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  She blinked away the tears that formed and swallowed hard. She studied the eyes of the man she loved but wasn’t sure she could ever possess. She nodded, wondering how long it would be before she woke up from this dream. In this moment, in his arms, she wasn’t sure she even cared. She pulled herself into him and rested her head on his chest.

  But as she breathed him in, uncertainty loomed. How long could she continue to put herself through this? She quieted her thoughts as he led her to his room.

  Acknowledgements

  Every successful book is such through the collaborative efforts of many people. I would like to thank my unnamed source who helped me get my facts straight about the hierarchy and procedures for the Dumfries Police Department and Prince William County Police Department. Without your help, Silent Graves wouldn’t be as authentic.

  I also thank my “sista”, Jennifer Chase, for sharing her forensic knowledge. We may not be related by blood, but we are bonded by genre and our interest in finding justice for the victims. While she puts her understanding to use in the real world, I continue to weave reality into my crime novels.

  To my wonderful editor, Lisa Dawn Martinez, who worked tirelessly to ensure that I made the manuscript a shining gem. You have a knack for pointing out everything—and I love you for it. Also, thank you to my proofreader, Bonnie Stowe, who is The Guru of Grammar.

  Last, but certainly not least, I also thank those who have continued to stand by me and support me with my writing. I sincerely cannot imagine my life without my characters, their stories, or my readers.

  Note to Readers

  If you’ve enjoyed this novel, please tell your friends and family about it. If you have time to write a brief, honest review on the eRetailer site where you purchased this book, that too would be appreciated.

  I love to hear from my readers and can be reached at carolyn@carolynarnold.net.

  With your email, I will add you my newsletter mailing, unless you express your desire otherwise.

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  ASSASSINATION OF A DIGNITARY

  Raymond Hunter's dark past has returned and demands one final favor. Now fifteen years later, settled as an accountant and family man, he assumed life would be calm. He thought wrong. The Italian Mafia wants him back.

  The directions were simple: Kill Governor Behler and be out for good.

  In order to protect his family and guard them from the truth, he has no choice but to accept the job. He picks the date and location—Niagara Falls, New York—two hundred and forty miles away. But by the time he returns home, he finds out the assassination attempt failed, his family has been kidnapped, and he has twenty-four hours to set things right if he wants to see them again.

  With time running out, Raymond discovers the real reason they wanted Behler dead and finds out he’s placed himself and his family right in the middle of a mafia power struggle. What he doesn’t realize is that law enforcement is also closing in.

  “...an exciting thriller, with so many different elements and twists... action the entire way.”

  —Barb, The Reading Cafe

  “...you will not be able to put it down. It is intense in the way a Tsunami is wet...”

  —Zach Fortier, Best-selling Author of Curbchek

  Chapter 1

  Detroit, Michigan

  Thursday, June 3rd, 3:50 p.m.

  THEY SAY THE PAST HAS A way of catching up with you. Mine was in my living room when I came home.

  Christian Russo, son of the Italian Mafia Don, Pietro Russo, sat on my sofa making himself comfortable. The side table had a glass of amber liquid sitting on it. He raised it for a sip.

  The clock read three fifty. Brenda would be home with the kids soon. I hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” His Italian accent laced each word.

  I couldn’t show the man fear. This is what he wanted. He craved a reaction. He always had. “If I saw one before me, I may greet him differently.”

  “Oh.” A fake pout had his lips pinched together only a second. He put the drink down and placed a hand over his heart. He laughed when it touched the silk of his silver jacket. “If only I had feelings, Hunter. Maybe you’d hurt mine.” Silence fell between us like a cloak. I stood in front of him. He studied my face. “Sit.”

  “Get out of my house, Christian.”

  “Sit!” His voice rose, and he straightened his posture as he barked the command.

  I sat. I wanted to stretch my leg, one over the other, but didn’t want to appear too comfortable either. I kept myself leaning slightly forward, apprehensive this would give the impression I was eager to hear what he would say.

  “We have a job for you,” he continued.

  “I don’t do this anymore.”

  “Tsk. Tsk.” He raised a finger to his lips. “You don’t interrupt me.”

  “But, I don’t…” I let my words trail off into non-existence based on the reflection in his eyes. I wasn’t the type who could take a life for a wad of cash anymore. I had too much to lose, too much to live for.

  “Pays one hundred k. Half up front.”

  “I’m doing fine. I have been—”

  He dropped a wad of cash on the table between us. I knew from the banding it was ten thousand.

  “How can you be fine? After you turn your back on The Family? Surely you must miss us.”

  I missed the pay check, the one that padded my bank account with thousands at regular intervals, but not the control they held over me.

  “Seriously, there must still be fire in you.” Christian’s mouth lifted, slightly to the left as it always did when he schemed manipulation.

  His eyes contained more evil than had been there the better part of two decades ago. In all honesty, I was shocked to see that he was the one the Don sent to me. Christian was more hurt than Pietro when I turned my back on The Family.

  My eyes scanned my living room, settli
ng only briefly on the family photographs, on the children’s school portraits. My eyes came back to Christian. “Like I said, I don’t do that anymore. I wouldn’t even know how to—”

  “Fire a gun.” Christian finished my sentence and cocked his head to the side. “You should know better than to lie to me. Want to try again?”

  When I was offered a permanent role in The Family’s business, I had declined. I saw my way out and took it. There were times the nightmares of what I had done would slither back into the darkness of night, but I worked to shutter them out. I justified my actions as responding to directions. It was nothing personal. A kill never was. I reminded myself they were marks, not individuals. But over the years I had never lost the love for firing a gun. The fall of the hammer and the slight kickback as the bullet exited the chamber.

  “I know you go to the gun range.” Christian took another sip of what looked to be my scotch.

  I pointed a finger at him. Many men would not dare to. “Don’t follow me.”

  “You tell me what to do now? Things changed, yes?” Christian laughed. “I believe every Thursday afternoon. I trust that’s why you’re home now and not at the office.”

  How closely had he been watching me? In fact in such an economy, I was fortunate not only to have a job but to own a modest accounting practice. I chose the career hoping the rumors were true; accountants lead uneventful lives. I looked at the clock. Within fifteen minutes, my family would be walking through the door. My eyes went back to the cash on the table.

  “How does it pay you Hunter?”

  “I’m not that person anymore.” My last name improvised as my nickname among the Russos. They viewed it as evidence of a life calling. I was predestined to be their hitman.