Shadows from the Grave

by Haddix, T. L.

  Today was no different. The morning had begun with a breakfast at the local historical society. From there, she’d gone to a luncheon with the Chamber of Commerce, and now she was on her way home to prepare for an important but boring dinner at the country club with the political party leaders.

  “I love you dearly, husband, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d married that coal operator Mama wanted me to,” she said to herself. “Some days, I’d give my right boob to be just a soccer mom.”

  Reaching her home, she pulled into the garage with a sigh of relief. She was looking forward to getting inside where the air conditioner was on high, slipping off the shoes that had been pinching all day, and downing a tall, cold glass of white wine. If she had planned well, she should have a half hour to herself before chaos regained the upper hand. Unfortunately, when she opened the door from the garage, she walked into a full-on sibling battle. Alexis, her fourteen-year-old daughter, had her twelve-year-old brother, Evan, cornered in the kitchen. Eight-year-old Gage stood by, his eyes filling with tears when he saw his mother. Sobbing, he ran to her.

  “I know you took it, Evan,” Alexis shouted, her fist drawn back in an obvious threat. “So where is it, you little turd?”

  Evan’s eyes were wide with terror, and he saw Amy Lynn before Alexis did. “Mom, make her stop,” he begged. “I didn’t take her stupid iPod.”

  With a sigh, Amy Lynn gave Gage a hug. “Go on to your room, honey,” she told him as she hurried into the kitchen. “Alexis Jeanne, you lower that arm and your voice. What the hell is going on here?” Both children started talking at the same time. She had to shout in order to be heard over the clamor. “Stop! Both of you! Shut it, now!” When they had quieted down, she looked at Alexis. “Explain.”

  Alexis crossed her arms with a sulky pout, but kept her glare leveled on her brother as she spoke. “My iPod is gone. He took it, Mom. I know he did. And I want it back,” she growled.

  Amy Lynn closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Evan, did you take your sister’s iPod?”

  Before she even finished her question, he was shaking his head. “I didn’t, Mom. I swear. I don’t want her stinkin’ iPod. I have my own,” he reminded her.

  She studied Evan’s face carefully but didn’t see any of his usual tells. “Okay, Evan, go to your room, then.”

  “Mom!” Alexis started, outraged.

  Amy Lynn held up her hand for silence, and Alexis’ face turned a mottled shade of red. “Lexi, he doesn’t have it. Go search your room again. When you find the iPod, bring it to me.” Alexis stomped off, and Amy Lynn leaned back against the island with another sigh. The older Alexis got, the more she reminded Amy Lynn of Kiely. Her quick temper, her blood-thirsty bent for vengeance when she thought she had been wronged; it was Kiely all over again, and not in a good way. When Alexis acted out the way she had just now, Amy Lynn knew she and Neal were in for a long, rough road.

  Her moment of self-pity over, she pushed away from the island and moved to the wine cooler, where she pulled out an open bottle of pinot blanc. She poured herself a glass and quickly downed half. She refilled the glass to the top and headed upstairs into her office. With an almost-angry kick, she removed her shoes and settled in behind her desk to go through the household’s mail. Near the bottom of the pile was a small package. Amy frowned as she tried to read the label. Since no one was around to see, she grabbed her reading glasses from one of the desk’s pigeonholes. Now able to read the writing, she saw that the package had been mailed from Lexington, and the address wasn’t one she recognized.

  For a moment or two, she debated on whether to open it. Being the wife of a politician, she was well aware of the dangers mysterious packages could represent. Throwing caution to the wind, she gave the package a gentle shake, and though she could feel whatever was inside shift, it didn’t rattle. Since it didn’t explode in her face, she figured she could go ahead and open it, and she pulled the tab on the side of the small box to do just that. The cardboard unzipped, she lifted the flap and saw that the contents were wrapped securely in tissue paper. There was a card on top, so she reached for that first. When she opened it and saw that it was an anniversary card, she smiled. Neal was a month early, but she supposed it was the thought that counted. The card wasn’t his style, though; it was very gaudy, bold and red. She opened the card and started reading, and by the time she’d reached the end of the letter, all the blood had drained out of her face.

  “No, it can’t be,” she whispered. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the tissue-wrapped contents, and when she unfolded the wrapping, she stopped, horrified. For several heartbeats, she just stared at what had been in the package. And then she screamed.

  ~ * * * ~

  The kids had come running as soon as they heard her scream, but she managed to get them back out of the office with the excuse that it had been a mouse. The boys rushed out, going down the hall with enthusiasm as they searched for the non-existent marauder. Alexis was a harder sell, giving Amy Lynn a speculative glare, but she did finally allow herself to be pushed out the door. Amy Lynn closed it behind her and slumped against the raised panels for a moment. On shaking legs, she walked back to her desk and stared down at the floor in front of the chair. The package rested where she had let it fall, thankfully upside down. It would have been an absolute disaster if the kids had seen the contents.

  She pushed the chair back and sat down heavily on the springy cushion. A wave of sickening adrenaline had coursed through her body, and now she was coming down from that rush. She wanted to do nothing more than collapse in tears, but that sort of weakness wasn’t an option. With a hand that trembled so badly she could barely grasp the handle of the phone on her desk, she picked up the headset and dialed the number for Neal’s office. When his receptionist answered, Amy Lynn identified herself.

  “Patricia, I need to talk to him,” she said. “I don’t care how busy he is. I have an emergency here at the house.”

  The woman transferred the call immediately, and within seconds, Neal had come on the line. “Amy Lynn? Patty said there’s an emergency.” The sound of her husband’s voice brought tears to Amy Lynn’s eyes, but she ruthlessly bit her lip and stopped them from falling.

  “Yes, there is, Neal. I need you to come home,” she said carefully. “It’s about Kiely.” He told her he was on his way and hung up.

  Her mind churning, she paced the confines of her office while she waited for Neal. “That bastard,” she hissed. “How dare he come in my house? Touch my daughter’s belongings?” She grabbed the wine glass and downed the contents. “I don’t care what it takes, Chase Hudson. You’ll pay for this.”

  Hearing Neal on the stairs, she hurried to the door and let him in. “Did the kids see you?” she asked as she closed the door.

  “No. What’s going on, Amy Lynn?” he asked.

  She pointed to the package. “Don’t touch it. It’s from her killer. There’s a card and a letter, and God help us, he was here!”

  Neal had crouched down on the floor and used an ink pen to turn the package over. At her words, he looked up. “What do you mean, he was here?”

  “I mean he was in this house! Alexis’s iPod and Kiely’s garter are in that box with everything else. God only knows what else he took.” Amy Lynn realized she was shaking, and she sank down into her chair. “You have to do something, damn it!”

  “I will,” he assured her. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. “I know just who to call.”

  “Who?”

  Neal didn’t answer, talking into the phone instead. “Greg? It’s Neal Bledsoe. You know that favor I talked to you about?” When the other man responded, Neal smiled. “Yeah, that one. It’s time for me to call it in.”

  Chapter 10

  The next shoe dropped a week after Chase had received his letter, when Gordon received a phone call at the office early Wednesday morning. He was surprised to hear the voice of Detective Greg Hart on the other end of the line. />
  “You busy, Gordon?” the Lexington detective asked.

  Gordon laughed. “I’m always busy, Greg. You know that. What’s going on?”

  “Kiely Turner’s sister received a package yesterday afternoon. Guess who it’s from?”

  Detective Hart’s words caused a cold chill to run across Gordon’s shoulders. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said. “What was in it?”

  There was a brief pause before Hart answered. “That’s the creepy part. There was an anniversary card similar to what Chase Hudson received, complete with a letter. However, Amy Lynn also got a couple of gifts in her package, and those are what freaked her out. They were things from inside her own home.”

  Gordon was shocked. “What do you mean, from inside her home? What kind of stuff was it?”

  “Well, he took Kiely’s high school prom garter and they think he took her diary, maybe a picture or two. The creepiest part is that he apparently went into their teenaged daughter’s bedroom, because he sent the girl’s iPod along with the garter. The Bledsoes are pretty freaked out about that.”

  “I can imagine,” Gordon said. “Where are the package and its contents now?”

  “I have them,” Hart said. “The state boys brought it down last night. Since your lab is handling the other package, I wondered if you might want to process this one as well.”

  “Damned straight, we do. The more evidence we can get in the same lab, the better chance we’ll have at linking this guy to the other killings and catching him.”

  “Can we do that without giving you jurisdiction?” the detective asked. “I’m not convinced Kiely Turner’s murder is linked to those others.”

  Gordon sighed. “Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem. I guess we’re going to have to agree to disagree for now on the cases being linked, but I’m going to try to change your mind. When can you get that package to me?”

  “I figured I’d drive up now, if you’re available in about an hour.”

  “I can make the time,” Gordon agreed. “Head on up.”

  He hung up and sat back in his chair. He was impatient to see what the package contained. The past week had been a busy one, with several other cases taking precedence over the investigation into the serial murders. Today was his first day back in the Louisville office, having been sent to western Kentucky for the first part of the week. Deciding it might be a good idea to let his supervisor know what was up, he stood and went to her office. At his light knock, she looked up from the paperwork on her desk.

  “You have a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Fran Connell said. “Come in.” Fran had been put in charge of the department two years ago, and Gordon respected and liked her. She was fair, sharp, and willing to stick her neck out for her agents if need be.

  “Greg Hart from Lexington just called. The card Chase Hudson got last week? Well, the victim’s sister received one yesterday.” He told her what Hart had said about the package.

  Fran sat back and folded her hands in her lap as he spoke. “What do you need from me?”

  “Permission to put this at the top of my list and keep it there,” he said. “Hart doesn’t want to give up jurisdiction, and that might be a problem.”

  Fran nodded. “That could be a big problem. I know you have something else in mind, though. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

  Gordon smiled. “You know me too well, Fran. I want to exhume Kiely’s body. I think we might get lucky and find some DNA, if she’s still intact. They weren’t able to get anything at the first autopsy, but technology’s advanced since then.”

  “Exhumation? Really, Gordon?” she asked, skeptical. “That’s pretty extreme, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t,” he disagreed. “Here’s why. Without DNA or some other solid evidence, we aren’t going to be able to link these cases. And without that evidence, Kiely’s family is going to try to hang Chase for her murder. I can feel it.”

  Fran stood and went to the coffee pot she kept in her office. She offered Gordon a mug, and he accepted. “As often as you have these gut feelings, and as accurate as they usually are, you know I can’t take that to a judge and ask for an exhumation order.”

  “I know. It is a little more complicated that just my gut feeling, though,” he said. “This guy is escalating; he’s bored with what he’s been doing. It isn’t enough of a challenge for him anymore to just kill. Now, he’s drawing in family members of previous victims. So there’s that to consider.”

  “Okay. Good start, but what else do you have?”

  Gordon took a deep breath and reached over to close the door. “This is between you and me and the desk, Fran,” he said. “I made some calls last week, talked to some people in Lexington, and in Frankfort. Bledsoe is up for Speaker of the House this session if he wins reelection. If he can nail the SOB who killed his sister-in-law, he’s practically assured the position. That family has never made any secret of the fact that they want to see Chase swing for Kiely’s murder. With the reception of these cards, and the ten-year anniversary coming up? That’s a lot of motivation for Bledsoe to push this investigation using whatever tactics he can.”

  Fran sent him a frown. “What do you mean, ‘whatever tactics he can’?”

  “I mean by fair means or foul, he will see Chase Hudson prosecuted for that crime. And Fran, Chase didn’t kill Kiely. I know he didn’t.”

  Fran sat forward very slowly, and Gordon could see that she was choosing her words carefully. “Is it possible—possible, mind you—that your friendship with the man could be influencing your perception of his innocence, Gordon?”

  “That’s a fair question,” he responded. “But no. As an investigator, I have gone back over the case file on Kiely’s murder more than once, and there’s nothing that remotely indicates Chase was responsible. He had as airtight an alibi as he could have—witnesses from the CA’s office, including the guy who’s prosecutor now. No physical injuries to indicate he’d gotten into an altercation with Kiely. We know from the autopsy report that she fought her killer, and there would have been evidence of that on Chase. Did he have motive? Maybe you could argue that he did, and this is where my friendship with Chase does come into play. He would be hurt, he would be furious by what happened between them, but murderously angry? No.”

  “Then, I’m a little confused as to why you’re worried. If his alibi is as solid as you say it is, there shouldn’t be anything to be concerned about.”

  Gordon leaned forward and placed his coffee mug on the floor. He sighed and ran a hand over his jaw. “I know there shouldn’t be, but I’m still worried. There’s a lot of chatter in Lexington right now, I’ve learned in the past few days, rumors that something is going on behind the scenes. And to be very frank, I’m not sure Bledsoe hasn’t gotten Greg Hart in his pocket, and isn’t using him to plant evidence. Hell, for all we know, Greg Hart is the one sending the cards.” Fran looked surprised by the allegation.

  Gordon held up one hand. “I know, I know. I have absolutely no proof whatsoever, so I need to be careful and watch what I say in public. I will be. But I need you to know what I’m thinking, Fran.”

  She sat back in her chair and looked out the window for a couple of minutes while she thought over what Gordon had said. He could see her mouth tighten, and she sighed.

  “You have a favor you can call in, if I recall correctly,” she said. “From Judge Perlman?”

  Gordon nodded. He had worked on a case a few months back that involved a powerful district judge, managing to save the man significant public embarrassment by handling the case quietly. “I hate to call in favors, but I’m willing to make an exception for Chase, and for Kiely.” He hesitated. “What about jurisdiction?”

  Fran sighed. “Well, the letter Chase Hudson received gives us a little leverage. You can probably use it to cover yourself with the exhumation, even. I’m not sure about wresting away the whole case, though. You might have to be satisfied with what you can get there. However, that being s
aid, I’ll make some calls to Lexington. I have a few connections there myself, and I might be able to get Hart’s supervisors to agree to letting us take point.” She paused. “Keep me up to date, Gordon.”

  Gordon thanked her and went back to his desk to make the call to Judge Perlman. He wanted to try and have the exhumation process started before he tipped his hand to Hart. It wasn’t a decision Gordon had made lightly, to pursue the exhumation. He understood the pain and suffering, the emptiness that resulted from losing a loved one. He knew that loss and accepted that what he was about to instigate would probably have far-reaching consequences once Kiely’s family found out about it. They would have to be notified about the exhumation, something he wasn’t looking forward to.

  Gordon was prepared to use every last card he had to make sure the truth came out, even if it meant causing more pain for those who had loved Kiely. He was that certain of Chase’s innocence and, now, of the danger to his freedom. Having Kiely’s remains exhumed had been a card Gordon had hoped not to have to play but he was afraid it would turn out to be Chase’s only hope.

  ~ * * * ~

  A couple of hours later, Gordon’s concern had morphed into full-blown alarm, though he hid that reaction from Detective Hart. Using one of the small meeting rooms at FBI headquarters in Louisville, they had reviewed the contents of the package Amy Lynn had received. They were damning, and Gordon could well understand why the Bledsoes had been so upset. Aside from the card and the letter, which were upsetting enough, the killer had included Kiely’s garter and the daughter’s iPod.

  Detective Hart had a theory about when they had been taken. “Representative Bledsoe and his wife held a fundraiser at their home this past weekend. Most of the activities were out of doors, but anyone could have sneaked into house.” He handed Gordon a document. “Here’s the guest list, and we should have the list of the staff who were present shortly.”

  Gordon read through the list and was surprised by a few of the names. “What kind of fundraiser was it?”