Zombies in the Delta (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 1)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “We have two now.”

  Vinnie nodded. “How’s Peyton’s job?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” Vinnie gave a snort of laughter. “You never were one for conversation.”

  “I came over to watch the game, not paint your fingernails and do your hair.”

  Antonio gave Marco an approving smile.

  Vinnie sat quietly for a bit, then he shifted in his chair. Marco could feel him watching him. “How are things with Peyton?”

  Marco leaned forward and settled the beer on the coffee table. “Okay, why are you grilling me?”

  “You haven’t been over here in weeks, and suddenly you turn up. You look like shit, you keep rubbing your thigh, and you aren’t really watching the game. Something’s wrong, little brother.”

  Marco glanced at Antonio.

  “Tonio will go in the other room if you want to talk,” said Vinnie.

  “No, I don’t want to talk. Things are fine with Peyton. She’s just working and I was tired of wandering around the house doing nothing. Look, if you’re going to give me the third degree, I’ll watch the game at home.”

  Vinnie made a motion with his chin at his son and Antonio got off the couch, heading for the bedroom. Marco noticed that Antonio hardly had a limp any longer.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Vinnie leaned on the arm of his chair, bringing himself closer to Marco. “Well, you weren’t going to talk with him here. Now, what the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing, Vinnie, damn it. Why do you always do this?”

  “I know you better than anyone.”

  Marco stared at the end of his cane. “Everything’s fine. I just want to watch the game and not have someone poking at me all the time. Can we just do that?”

  “Fine,” said Vinnie, lifting his beer. “We’ll just watch the game.”

  They sat quietly through a few batters. Marco couldn’t really concentrate. All he could think about was the fight with Peyton, how upset he’d been, how jealous it made him to think she’d had anything to do with Joshua Ravensong and then when she refused to tell him, it made him even angrier. Devan was bad enough. He could hardly stand the thought of Devan touching her, but Joshua Ravensong was worse somehow. And he knew she was keeping something from him.

  “You know, stewing in your own thoughts just magnifies everything.”

  Marco stared at his brother. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

  “I just don’t understand why you can’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Marco pushed himself to his feet. This was obviously a mistake. “Screw it. I give up.” He started for the door, but Vinnie rose and cut him off.

  “You’re walking out?”

  “I get enough head shrinking from Dr. Ferguson. I don’t need this from my own family. Let me go, Vinnie.”

  “No, talk to me.”

  “Screw you! You always think you can fix everything. You always think you’re the big ass older brother. I don’t need you fixing my life, Vinnie. I don’t need you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do? You always do this, Marco, you always push everyone away when you’re hurting. Did you do this to Peyton too?”

  “Don’t bring her into this.”

  From the corner of his eyes, he could see Rosa appear in the doorway to the kitchen.

  He tried to tamp down his anger. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. Just let me go home.”

  “No, you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong!”

  “What isn’t wrong! I can’t walk, I can’t do my freakin’ job. The other day I got knocked on my ass by a perp. Then last night, I found out my fiancée had an affair with a rockstar! What the hell is freakin’ right in my life, Vinnie! You tell me!”

  Vinnie’s mouth hung open and he searched Marco’s face.

  “Then I come here to get away from it all, and my brother won’t shut the hell up! Now, you’re blocking me so I can’t leave and we both know I’m not strong enough to make you!”

  Vinnie looked down, then he backed up. Marco pushed past him and went for the door, yanking it open. Except on the landing, he faced the long bank of stairs leading down to the driveway. He slumped against the wall and stared at them.

  Why the hell was he fighting with everyone? He didn’t want to fight with his brother. He didn’t want to fight with Peyton. He wanted everything to go back to the way it had been. Sinking down on the top stair, he covered his face with both hands.

  He heard the door open and he tensed. He really didn’t want to go another round with his brother right now. Someone took a seat on the stairs next to him and he lifted his head, looking over.

  Antonio.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at your dad, kid. I didn’t mean it.”

  Antonio shrugged. “I yelled at him too when I got out of the hospital.”

  “Yeah, but look at you now. You hardly have a limp.”

  “It still hurts sometimes, if I do too much.”

  Marco nodded.

  Antonio scuffed his feet on the stairs. “No one gets it.”

  “Gets what?”

  “What it’s like. You know, when something like this happens. One day, you’re running and no one can stop you, then the next day…”

  Marco sighed. “Yeah.” He twirled the cane in his hand. “I hate this thing!” He lifted the cane for Antonio to see. “I hate it so much, I can’t even tell you, but if I reach for it and it’s not there, I feel this moment of panic.”

  Antonio nodded. “I was angry for a long time, you know? Really angry. I yelled at Mom and Dad, I called Cristina really bad things. Everything was hard. Getting a shower, going to the bathroom.”

  Marco chuckled in agreement.

  “I just wanted my old life back.”

  “I hate the way people watch me.”

  “God, I remember that. They look at you like they’re worried you’re gonna fall or something.”

  “Yeah. Every time I go to do something, someone says let me. I know they’re trying to help, but it just pisses me off.”

  Antonio fell silent, staring at his hands.

  Marco nudged him with his shoulder. “What helped the anger?”

  Antonio looked over at him. “I still have it sometimes, you know? My leg gets to hurting and I get angry all over again, but I can deal with it better. But before, God, it was bad, Uncle Marco. I remember one night I got in a fight with Mom about my grades or something, and for a minute, I swear, I saw myself walking out the door, just walking and never coming back.”

  Marco didn’t say anything, just watched his nephew.

  “I went online and I found this group through the hospital. Other kids who had cancer or were dying. We could chat online, you know?”

  Marco nodded.

  “Then I started thinking about Billy Miller. You remember him?”

  “Yeah.” He was the other boy in the car with Antonio when they had their accident. Billy Miller had been paralyzed. “I called him on the phone and we just talked. We hadn’t talked really since the accident.” Antonio’s eyes filled with tears, but he swiped them away. “I suddenly realized I could deal with what I had. I could handle my problems. They weren’t that big. I wasn’t paralyzed, I wasn’t dying. I could deal, you know?”

  Marco reached up and gripped his nephew’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know. You’re a good kid, Tonio. You know that?”

  Antonio encircled Marco’s wrist with his fingers. “Dad’s right, Uncle Marco, you gotta find someone you can talk to.”

  * * *

  Standing in the gathering dusk at the edge of the grave, Peyton slipped her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the display. It was after 6:00PM by the time they got someone to agree to exhume Old Man Harwood’s body.

  First of all the cemetery had been blocked off to visitors and screens had been put up to ensure privacy. A backhoe had been brought in for the first part, but now, workers in pro
tective gear were using shovels to dig down to the vault.

  A priest stood by, blessing the ground and overseeing the operation to make sure proper respect was shown to the deceased. Tank and Bambi had picked up Igor and drove out from the City, hoping Igor would at least be able to identify the body. Tonight they would transport it to Igor’s lab, then tomorrow he would perform the autopsy.

  Peyton caught motion at the edge of the screen, and Deputy Sharpe slipped around it, striding over the uneven ground to meet them. He nodded at Radar and gave Peyton a grim smile.

  “How’d it go with Agnes?” she asked. She knew he’d be the one to draw the short straw and tell the woman her son was dead.

  “Drove her to Lodi Memorial Hospital for a sedative. She didn’t want to go. She kept telling me she couldn’t leave, she had to make arrangements for her son. She got so panicked, she damn near passed out.”

  “Funeral arrangements?”

  “That’s what I figured. She kept saying arrangements. What other kind could there be?”

  “So the farm’s empty?”

  Radar glanced over at her. “We aren’t going on that property without a warrant, Sparky.”

  “I didn’t say we were.” She touched Sharpe’s arm. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

  He nodded. “That’s the job.”

  Peyton could see Bambi standing on tiptoes trying to see into the grave. “Did you bring the dental records?”

  Sharpe held them up. Peyton took them and passed them to Radar, who gave them to Igor. “What if it isn’t Old Man Harwood in that grave?”

  “I’m more worried about what will happen if Old Man Harwood doesn’t have a prion disease.”

  Bambi leaned around Radar. “Do you suppose there’s any flesh left?”

  Peyton and Sharpe gave her horrified looks.

  “That’s one’s twisted,” he whispered.

  “Tell me about it.”

  The priest shifted and glared at them. Peyton clamped her mouth shut and pulled out her phone again.

  “Do you have some place you’d rather be?” hissed Radar.

  “Yeah, home with my fiancé. I promised him I’d be home early.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to dig up the dead, Sparky.”

  “Not on Saturday. I was fine with digging up the dead on Monday.”

  “Shh!” hissed the priest.

  Peyton clamped her mouth shut again and pulled out the phone, sending Marco a text. Just as she finished, they heard the sound of shovel hitting stone. One of the workers pulled off his facemask and straightened. “We’re here.”

  “Careful,” said Igor. “Try to disturb the body as little as you can.” He shut the folder he’d been studying and moved closer to the edge of the grave. His white bald head and pale hands looked even more translucent in the late day sunlight as if he glowed like the LED tables from Devan’s fundraiser last night.

  Bambi followed in his footsteps, Tank and Radar a few steps behind. Peyton hung back, not certain she wanted the first glimpse of whatever was going to come out of that grave.

  The workers, using crowbars, pulled up the lip of the concrete vault with a hiss of escaped air, then they brought a small crane forward and attached straps beneath the coffin, winching it upward. Peyton winced as they carefully lifted the coffin out of the vault and swung it to the side, bringing it down until it rested beside the grave on solid ground.

  Sharpe glanced at Peyton. “Aren’t you just a little curious about what’s in there?”

  “Not really.” She shook her head, but when he moved to the side of the grave, Peyton reluctantly followed.

  Bambi grabbed her arm, hugging it to herself. “This is so exciting.”

  Peyton forced a smile for her.

  “What if it’s empty?”

  Peyton swallowed hard. She didn’t really believe it would be empty. In fact, she was more concerned it wouldn’t be.

  Igor pulled on gloves and a facemask. “Okay, open it.”

  The workers set to unbolting the lid while the priest began a prayer, crossing himself. After the bolts were removed, two of the worker lifted it. The smell was the first thing to strike them and Peyton turned away. She felt Sharpe touch her back with his hand.

  Tank made a gagging noise and the workers scrambled back, covering their noses with their hands. Igor and Bambi were the only ones to move closer.

  “Oh, shit!” whispered Bambi. “He’s turning to liquid.”

  “Yes, anaerobic bacteria thrive in these partially metallic coffins and they have the fascinating ability to cause putrefaction. Actually, if you’d like a more pleasant decomposition you should choose a wooden casket instead.” Igor reached into the coffin.

  “You gotta see this, Peyton,” said Bambi. “You’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Peyton, trying to breathe through her mouth.

  “Is it Harwood?” asked Radar through clenched teeth.

  “Patience, Radar. This fellow’s been doing a lot of falling apart.” He gave a wheezing laugh. “He really does look like a zombie.” Holding out the file to Bambi, he instructed her to place it near the coffin, so he could reach in with both hands.

  “In twenty-five years on the FBI, I’ve never dug up a body,” Radar said, turning toward Peyton. “You come on, and here I am two weeks later.”

  She gave him a sheepish half-smile. “So, does your wife work for the FBI?”

  He stared at her in disbelief, then shook his head, snapping his sunglasses over his eyes, but Peyton caught the twitch at the corner of his lips. He shifted back to face the coffin.

  “Igor, for the love of God…” He held up a hand to the priest. “Sorry, Father.”

  The priest gave him a nod.

  “Is it Harwood or not? I’m gonna puke if I have to breathe anymore zombie air.”

  Igor’s mouth suddenly tilted up at the corners. “Come look. The dental x-rays indicate both the maxillary central incisors were replaced with implants. The deceased here has implants in the same location.”

  Radar didn’t get any closer to the coffin. “What are the maximum incisors?”

  “Maxillary central incisors.” Igor turned toward him and bared his teeth, pointing with a gloved finger. “In layman’s terms, my two front teeth.”

  “So is it Harwood?”

  “I would like to compare DNA with the deceased son and the DNA sample I took from the fingernail, but yes, I feel comfortable identifying this corpse as Roy Harwood, Senior.”

  Peyton released her held breath.

  Radar clapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s pack this rodeo up and head on back to the City. I still might have time to catch a movie with the wife.”

  * * *

  The house was dark when Peyton got home. Pickles crept out of the bedroom as she unhooked her gun and hung it on the peg, then dropped her keys and badge on the sofa table with her wallet.

  The little dog gave her a tired yawn and turned around, disappearing again. Peyton slipped out of her blazer and pulled off her boots, then walked in stocking feet to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

  Marco lay on his stomach in the bed, the even sound of his breathing greeting her at the door. She tiptoed to the closet and slid it open, dropping the shoes and hanging up the blazer. She settled her cell phone on the nightstand, then grabbed his jersey and went into the bathroom to change.

  As she was brushing her teeth, Marco appeared in the doorway, squinting in the bright lights. “You just get home?”

  She nodded and turned off the water, moving into his arms and laying her head on his bare chest. He encircled her with his arms and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his skin.

  “Did you get dinner?”

  “Fast food on the way home.”

  He leaned back and ran his thumb across her cheek. “You okay? Did it go all right?”

  “It went fine, but I have to go in tomorrow.”

/>   “Tomorrow? That’s seven days in a row, Peyton.”

  “I know, but I should be done early and we’ll go to Mama D’Angelo’s together.”

  He sighed, then reached for her hand. “Come on. You look exhausted.”

  “We were supposed to have a talk today.”

  “Yeah, well, we were supposed to spend the day in bed too, but that didn’t happen.”

  “What did you do?” She let him pull her into the bedroom.

  “Nothing. Puttered around here and went to the gym for a while.”

  “The gym? That’s good, right?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her between his legs. “Yeah, that’s good. Look, I know you wanted to have a talk and all, but I just want to tell you, I’m sorry for what I said last night.”

  She ran her hands along the broad expanse of his shoulders. “I know. You told me last night.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Then you showed me.”

  He smiled. “Still, it was uncalled for and I’m sorry.”

  “How sorry?” she asked, placing her forehead against his.

  “Very, very sorry.”

  “Then I guess you’re going to have to show me again, aren’t you?”

  He laughed as he pulled her down on the bed with him.

  CHAPTER 13

  Marco poured the last of the coffee into a travel mug for Peyton and screwed the cap on, then handed it to her as she came around the counter. She took it and lifted on tiptoes to kiss him.

  “Can I make you some toast or something?” he asked.

  “No time. If I get this done, I can get home early. Wait for me. I should be home around 2:00 at the latest.”

  He nodded and leaned on the kitchen counter, crossing his arms.

  “You going to church today?” she asked as she gathered her keys and other paraphernalia.

  “Nope.”

  She hesitated. “I thought that was the agreement you made with Dr. Ferguson?”

  “It was. I changed it.”

  “And he’s okay with that?”

  “Yeah.” She started to question him, but he lifted his phone and looked pointedly at the clock. “You’re gonna be late.”