Forsaken Trust

by Meredith Doench

  “I think I found something,” Harvey called out.

  Harvey had been searching in a place so obvious, the rest of us dismissed it—the fire pit. We crowded around, but it was hard to see much of anything given that multiple logs and debris had been burned. The edges of the fire pit, though, appeared to be disturbed.

  Techs made their way down to the clearing and helped to lift away the scorched wood and debris. As soon as the surface was relatively flat, Duffy ran his machine over it. The uneven ground made the reading difficult, but it wasn’t long before Duffy whistled. “We’ve got something down there,” he said and guided the techs to dig a deep, wide hole into the soft earth.

  Shovels heaved away load after load of dirt until eventually the edge of a white bone gleamed against the dark earth. Duffy stepped down into the hole and used a trowel and brush to slowly pull away the impacted dirt. Gently, he investigated the area by pushing the trowel into various locations around the bone. Bennett joined Duffy near the bone and soon determined it was human.

  “We’ve got more,” he called out. “Drop the shovels,” he directed the techs and handed them all trowels and brushes. A full skeleton was revealed, apparently curled in the fetal position, suggesting the person might have been buried alive.

  While Duffy and Bennett worked to excavate the bones and remove them to a large blue tarp, the rest of us closed off the area with crime scene tape and collected evidence from the location. Once the recovery of a buried body began, it continued until everything had been excavated. This would be a long night for everyone, but especially Bennett and Duffy.

  Close to midnight, with enormous floodlights illuminating the grave, the bones were arrayed on the tarp.

  Harvey and I stood beside the tarp, our breaths little clouds in the cool fall night.

  “Hello, Henry Marco,” Harvey said.

  “This body has been here awhile—long enough to completely decompose to only bone and hair,” I told her.

  “We don’t know exactly when Henry went missing. He could have been gone over a year,” Harvey countered.

  “We know he was around for doctor and therapy visits less than a year ago.”

  Once the bones were fully exposed and photographed, a tech brought a gurney down to the clearing from the road. While the bones were prepared for transport back to Bennett’s office, Riley called the detectives for a briefing with Bennett and Duffy.

  “I know you need to run more tests, Dr. Bennett, but is there an obvious cause of death?” Riley asked.

  Bennett looked to Duffy for confirmation. “We didn’t see any bullet markings or obvious head trauma. This could be a case of poisoning or a stabbing. The positioning may indicate that the victim was conscious at burial and died from suffocation. A closer look at the bones will give me some clues.”

  Riley nodded. “Can you tell if the skeleton is male or female?”

  “Female,” she said.

  Riley groaned. It wasn’t Henry Marco, and we were now dealing with another victim.

  “There is enough hair here to do a DNA analysis,” Bennett said. She picked up the pelvis and held it out for all of us. “The pelvic inlet on males is heart shaped. This one is oval, and there appears to be a gap where the two pelvic bones meet.” Bennett stood to face Riley. “It’s a woman, and I’d say she’s given birth at least once in her life.”

  “Hansen, you said we’re dealing with two different killers here. You’re losing me—how does all of this fit the profile of a black widow?”

  “It’s all about power,” I told Riley and the group. “A black widow has the need to always be in control. In this particular case, I’d say Joan Marco knows exactly who this body is and knew exactly where this body was buried, and that knowledge gave her power.”

  Harvey agreed. “That’s why you had Joan Marco at the center of your murder board circle, Hansen.”

  “Exactly, but there is one difference. I don’t believe Joan had as much control over this kill as she did the others,” I said. “I believe Rhonda Betterly killed this woman under Joan’s direction, but Rhonda chose to bury the victim rather than place her in the river. We all know the black widow loves the drama, and this type of burial would not have been in Joan’s instructions to Rhonda. We’re looking at the disagreement that ended Rhonda’s connection with the Marcos. Rhonda did what she needed to do to stay alive, but she insisted on doing it in her own way.”

  Suddenly, I felt the weight of Bennett’s heavy unyielding stare.

  Then it hit me: Harvey referenced the murder board inside my hotel room.

  Bennett knew. And I hadn’t been the one to tell her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Day Thirteen: 1:00 p.m.

  Small rural towns, at their very core, demand devotion. A protective barrier encases such places for those who belong—those who’ve spent the vast majority of their lives within the village. The us vs. them mentality led to the unwritten code of conduct: What happens with our people stays with our people. I saw the code in action when Ava’s mother cautioned her not to reveal too much information about the drug issues in Wallace Lake. The code had also been a part of my interaction at the bar with Rhonda the night of the celebration. She was scared, sure, but she was also protecting someone. Guilt drove Rhonda to give me her cryptic message. She’d tried to give me enough to piece together the disjointed clues without her having to break the small town code of conduct.

  I was faced with that code one more time when Harvey and I met with Cody Allard on his front porch. There was one very real difference with Allard, though, one I planned to use in my favor. He had only moved to Wallace Lake a year ago—Allard was not yet an us.

  Sprung from jail less than twenty-four hours ago, Allard looked disheveled in his dirty jeans and sporting a three-day growth of beard. His freedom came courtesy of Joan Marco. She’d paid his bail in full the moment the judge deemed him eligible. Allard’s bank accounts, however, did not have the funds to do the same for her.

  “May we come in?” Harvey asked him, after his chilly greeting.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said. “What do you want?”

  I looked around at the neighboring houses. People watched us closely while pretending to be busy with something, anything, in their yards and driveways. “You sure you want to do this out here?” I asked.

  Allard glanced up and down his street and then finally nodded us inside. Harvey and I followed him into the dank rental home where all the shades were pulled tight and the trash bin overflowed with boxes from takeout—a way of living I could relate to. Today, however, I wore clean clothing; the smell of fresh laundry still clung to my collared button-down and dark trousers.

  Allard swept off some papers and books from his couch so we could sit. A hand-knitted throw fell over the back of the couch, and I wondered if Joan Marco had made it. Knitting seemed like something she would do, and it fit into the persona she presented as the happy homemaker and caring mother.

  Once Allard pulled up a folding chair to join us, I started. “We have a few questions for you, Mr. Allard, about your relationship with Joan Marco.”

  He looked at me hard and smirked. “You’re looking for dirt on Joan. You won’t get it from me.”

  “Cody,” Harvey said too harshly, “climb down off your high horse. Trust me, we have more than enough dirt on Joan.”

  I shot Harvey a look that said, Let me do it. The last thing I needed was for her to argue with and alienate the one person who might be able to help us. “We’re here as a courtesy, Mr. Allard. We’re giving you the chance to explain the basis of your relationship with her and your role in Heart to Heart.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  I shrugged. “We’ll find out on our own. But make no mistake, Mr. Allard. If we find any criminal activity between you and Mrs. Marco that you haven’t disclosed to us, you’ll go down just as hard as she does.”

  Allard leaned back in his seat and the chair wobbled under his weight. The dark circle
s under his eyes revealed how much sleep he’d lost over the past few days. He considered me through a clump of unwashed dark hair that fell over his brow. “I want immunity.”

  Harvey and I shared a glance: Allard was willing to talk.

  “Immunity?” I asked. “Why would you need something like that?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Special Agent Hansen. I think we’re both past that.”

  “Immunity is not a game, particularly when you’ve already been charged with statutory rape and a trial is pending.”

  “Those charges are bullshit.”

  I crossed one leg over the other and pushed my heavy braid behind my shoulders. I’d had about enough of Cody Allard and his smug grin. “Don’t kid yourself, Mr. Allard. You’re a predator, and a skilled one at that. And I bet if I dug around enough, I’d find you’ve done this before. But I’m not the only one who has thought of looking into your past, am I, Cody?”

  Allard’s chair creaked as he shifted in it uncomfortably.

  “Joan beat me to it, didn’t she? She found the others and got their stories on record. She used that information to get you to do what she wanted done. She set you up for failure in this new town, a place where you swore to yourself you’d never touch another girl. But Joan paraded these two girls in front of you—one of age and one not—and gave you the choice. You couldn’t help yourself—you found Sadie too old. You took Joan’s bait hook, line, and sinker. And then she blackmailed you into Heart to Heart.”

  There was no sound in the small room. I let the silence sit between us and hoped Harvey wouldn’t be the first to break it.

  It took a few minutes, but finally Allard spoke. “What do you want?”

  The smugness was gone. He’d only needed a little prodding from me. “I want to know about Heart to Heart. I want to know where the money came from.”

  Allard shook his head, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “We know she fronted as a private sober living home, Cody,” Harvey butted in, unable to help herself. “In Wallace Lake, no less, where so many are suffering with addiction. What did she do, Cody, promise you a job? A cut of the profits if you brought in enough women from your connections at the high school?”

  Allard shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  When Harvey started to speak again, I held out my hand to stop her. I needed verification of one fact—Harvey wasn’t going to help me get there.

  “There is one thing I know for sure about Joan Marco, Cody. She’s a master manipulator who turns a person’s greatest weakness into her weapon. She turned these women’s heroin addiction into her opportunity to make money. I know Henry Marco worked out the insurance scam for the women,” I said. “Here’s what I don’t get, Cody. Joan went through a lot of work for an insurance payout, but it doesn’t seem worth it. Then, I realized there were other means of getting money from women in a sober living home.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Come on. Joan is a smart woman, and she’ll put up with a lot if money is involved. So much so that she opened her home to addicts. She fed and cared for them while they kicked heroin and every other drug pulsing through their veins. You and I both know how labor intensive and unpleasant that venture can be. It’s not worth insurance reimbursement, not in a million years.”

  “Look, you have it wrong. Joan really does care about those women. She just wants to help people who need it.”

  I turned to Harvey. “He makes her sound like Mother Theresa, huh?”

  Harvey agreed. “Somehow I just don’t see it.”

  Allard sighed. “This is getting really old.”

  “It is, isn’t it? Tell me what happened, Cody. I’ll do my best to protect you.”

  He shrugged. “She wasn’t dealing, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “No, Joan was after the real money. Heroin and meth weren’t enough for her and far too messy. She was into another kind of trade wasn’t she, Cody?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “She turned the women out as prostitutes,” I said. “Mother Theresa gone pimp.”

  Beside me, Harvey’s mouth fell slack. She hadn’t heard the entire theory I’d been working on, and for once, she didn’t have anything to add to the questioning.

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Cody pleaded, “and neither did Joan.”

  I moved forward on the couch until my knees were only inches from his. “You helped Joan negotiate payments for sex from women who were powerless to say no. You took advantage of the women’s addictions right along with the Marcos.” I spoke deliberately and in measured tones. “And you sexually abused a minor. It may not be murder, I’ll give you that, but that’s all I’ll give you.”

  “Get out!” Allard pointed us toward the door. In his mind, he’d already lawyered up.

  *

  I sat across the table from Harvey in the busy restaurant where I found myself sharing a meal with her when I’d rather not. At least at this local eatery both Harvey and I could find something we liked. Harvey was vegan and thought the entire world needed to be as well. I stretched my legs out long in the open booth as Harvey ordered a plate of tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce to go along with her protein shake. I ordered the meat loaf and garlic mashed potatoes. Harvey gave me a disgusted face.

  “At least the beef is coming from a local farm,” I told her.

  It had been a long two days. Bennett had been working since the bones were found and still had a lot of hours ahead of her. She had the preliminary forensic results that revealed the bones belonged to a Caucasian woman, most likely in her sixties. Henry Marco might have been deceased somewhere, but he wasn’t in his own backyard or in the clearing near the Powell River. Riley had taken a go at Joan Marco to find his location. She refused to talk and asked for her lawyer before the officers could deliver her to intake.

  Bennett wasn’t returning any of my calls or texts. To be fair, though, she’d been busy with the transport of the bones to her lab and the analysis. She was nearing the second night of work to determine the manner of death and to officially ID the victim.

  I’d been so stupid—not telling Bennett early on made it seem like my night with Harvey had been something worth hiding. My actions had done nothing but scream mistrust. Now I finally had the chance to ask the question I’d wanted to for a long time. “What happened between you and Bennett, Harvey?”

  She looked up at me over the rim of her glass of tea, her blue eyes steady with mine. “Why do you ask?”

  “I know something happened, that’s all. I can feel the tension between you two.”

  She set her glass down. “A lot like the tension happening between you and Bennett, right?” She pushed her long bangs off her face. “Look, I know there’s something there, and that’s a good thing.”

  “It was,” I said, “until she figured out what happened between you and me.”

  Harvey gave me a sad face. “I’m sorry, but it was only a matter of time. I swear Bennett is the most observant person I’ve ever met. She should have been a detective.”

  “Sounds like you spent more than a couple of nights together.”

  Harvey shrugged. “Not more than a few weeks. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t very many of us in this town. When I joined the force, Bennett and me went out a few times. She wanted something serious, something long-term. She thought I led her on, but I was just having fun.”

  I took a drink of my water and tried not to gag. It tasted exactly like it smelled—Wallace Lake. “Did you tell her you were just having fun?”

  Harvey’s shrug told me no. “Bennett was really disappointed, and she took it hard when I didn’t level with her from the beginning.”

  I nodded, but what Harvey was describing didn’t seem like enough to cause the reactions I was seeing from Bennett. After all, Harvey had only been seeing Bennett a few weeks. Why would she hold so much anger for such a short relationship?

  Harvey must have read my thoughts.
She added, “And there was this thing that happened with her med school roommate, Emily.”

  “Ah, the truth comes out.”

  The waitress saved Harvey from our discussion by delivering two plates of food. When Harvey shot her a wink, the waitress’s blush spread down her neck.

  “You get all the women, don’t you?” I said, looking after the waitress.

  Harvey gave me a guilty grin. “I have my secrets, Hansen.”

  I nodded. “I bet you do.”

  I cut open the steaming piece of meat loaf in front of me. “Tell me, Harvey, is there any woman in this town you don’t have history with?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Joan Marco.”

  We both laughed.

  “About the other night, I’m sorry,” I told her, reaching for the pepper. “I didn’t mean to let that happen between us.”

  Harvey nodded and gathered a forkful of potatoes. “We were both drunk. Sometimes it just happens, I guess. We all need someone once in a while. Coppers are lonely people, you know.”

  I hadn’t yet seen this side of Alison Harvey, the budding philosopher.

  “Our job has so much pain and death involved, sometimes we have to temper that darkness with something good,” she said.

  “Deep thoughts, Harvey.” I focused on the meat loaf in order to hide my surprise. Harvey rarely showed this thoughtful side. I understood what she meant; the darkness was strong and sometimes overwhelming. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “I just wish I would have been the one to tell Bennett, you know?”

  “Tell the truth, Hansen. All of it. And then start over.”

  I would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious to me. Here I was taking dating advice from Alison Harvey. I’d been worried that I’d feel uncomfortable with Harvey after our night together, and that our work would be filled with long unbearable silences. I’d found quite the opposite: in some ways we’d become more comfortable together.