Buried

by Ellison Cooper

  “So we have a killer that was actively killing in this area for over six years?”

  Dana grunted yes. “And our victims are scattered pretty evenly across those years, a little over one a year. Oh, and the cremated skeleton wasn’t the first kill. It was the last.”

  “Whoa,” Piper said, rubbing her hand along the edge of her park ranger hat. “Someone was killing people here in Rockfish Gap? How did no one notice that?”

  “I’d be willing to bet the victims weren’t local,” Sayer said. “Let’s go to the other room, I want to write this new info on the murder board.”

  They went back to the conference room and everyone but Sayer sat down, the intense morning already taking its toll.

  Sayer wrote 1996–2002 under Bones on the murder board. She added cremated skeleton 2002, head trauma. Under that she wrote 6 victims with throats cut, ritual sacrifice?

  “So”—Sayer paced at the head of the room—“we’ve got cause of death and possibly the murder weapon and we know that the first of these people was murdered over twenty years ago. But what the hell does that all mean? And does all this connect to our modern case?” She paused here.

  Sayer faced her team.

  Ezra looked pale, but his eyes burned with a new emotion that she realized was excitement. Piper sat wide-eyed and at full attention, her rumpled park ranger uniform looking like she hadn’t changed in days. Max rested his hand on Kona, who stood beside his chair looking ready for action. Dana looked pissed off, her small mouth pressed in a steely line.

  “I’m still not entirely convinced the older and recent cases are connected,” Max said. “All we’ve got to connect them is the same dump spot and a vague mention of killing to protect someone in a blurry journal. I mean, tying up and slitting the throats of people is really different than forcing Jillian Watts to kill those other women.…”

  “Fair point. But if they aren’t connected,” Sayer said, “that would imply that our recent attacker is actually linked to the old case, not the new one, since he did just break in and try to take an old skeleton.” She paced in front of the murder board. “Let’s review what we know for sure. We know that we have Cricket’s blood on the sword. Thanks to the dates, we also know that the last murder was around 2002.… Isn’t that the same year that Cricket left?”

  “It is,” Ezra answered.

  Sayer watched Max’s reaction. He looked shocked, slightly angry, definitely upset. She pressed on. “That can’t be a coincidence. How old was she when the first murders began in ’96?”

  “Twelve,” Ezra said.

  “So the murders end the same year she disappears. But the fact that she was so young when they began makes it seem unlikely that she was the killer back then,” Sayer said. “Unless she had an older partner.”

  “What about her dad?” Dana asked. “She accused him of physical abuse. Virtually every modern mass shooter has a history of intimate-partner violence. Maybe he was the killer back then and she found out?”

  Max shook his head. “Not possible. Mr. Nelson was in the reserves and was deployed for almost two years, ’98 and ’99, I think. I only know that because my mom used to hire him as a handyman. She didn’t like the other guy she had to hire while Mr. Nelson was deployed.”

  “Hmm, Ezra, confirm that he really was gone during that time, but let’s assume that’s true. If he was away for two years of the killing, there’s no way he’s our guy, which brings me back to Cricket. We do have her DNA on the handle of what I assume is the murder weapon. Let’s pretend she was the killer.”

  “You really think a twelve-year-old could’ve done something like that?” Piper did not look convinced.

  “I’ve heard of children as young as eleven killing people,” Sayer said. “Actually, as young as ten, now that I think about it.”

  “Kids as young as ten have killed people?” Piper asked.

  “Yeah, look up Mary Bell, strangled two toddlers when she was ten.” Sayer waved her hand, mind on the case. “I’m just playing out scenarios to see what might make sense. But you do have a point. Binding someone in a straitjacket and slitting their throats with an ancient Greek sword is pretty damn sophisticated for a twelve-year-old. So my bet is that she was either a victim or that she was working with an older partner. But the last murder and her disappearance happened at the same time. We need to know what the hell happened in 2002,” Sayer said, frustrated.

  Realizing everyone felt slightly defeated, she clapped her hands. “All right, let’s figure out what’s next. I want to know for sure if these cases are connected somehow and I think the best way to do that is to learn more about Cricket’s disappearance. Max, since her DNA is on file, I assume that means the Nelsons filed a missing persons report?”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  “Good. While Dana keeps working on getting us an ID on the remaining skeletons, I want to look at all the old police records from 1996 through 2002.” Sayer took a deep breath.

  Ezra’s computer pinged. “Well, that’s weird,” he muttered as he read.

  “What is it?” Sayer asked.

  “I just got another hit on Cricket’s DNA.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uh, you know how there are a ton of DNA databases out there? FBI, state police, some other medical, genealogical…”

  “Sure.” Sayer went over to Ezra’s computer and read off the screen. “Donor list?”

  “Yeah, so right now we have to separately search every single database. I’ve been experimenting with a program that crawls all the publicly accessible DNA databases out there. I’ve been entering the DNA we’ve found into my program, you know, just to see if it’s working. And the blood off the handle of the sword just came back with a match to the”—Ezra squinted as he read—“BMDD, the Bone Marrow Donor Database. It looks like the match is to an anonymous submission to the Bone Marrow Donor list from someone offering their bone marrow.”

  “And that submission matches Cricket Nelson?” Sayer asked.

  “Yeah, Cricket must’ve made the donation anonymously, but it’s definitely her DNA.”

  “Which must mean that Cricket is still alive?” Max said, perking up a bit.

  “Is that true?” Sayer said. “Can you tell when the donation was made?”

  Ezra typed. “Here we go. The donation was made seven months ago and … whoa. It was processed just down the mountain at the University Hospital in Charlottesville!”

  “Cricket’s not only alive, she’s nearby?” Max looked shaken. “I can’t decide if I should feel relieved or pissed.”

  “Could the people who run the database tell us the name of the donor?” Sayer asked. “Cricket is clearly living under a pseudonym, and I would sure love to ask her a few questions.”

  “No way. People who volunteer to donate do so with assurances that their DNA will remain anonymous. The bone marrow folks would never violate that anonymity without a court order.”

  “Then let’s get a court order,” Sayer pressed.

  “I’ll get that in the works, but there’s some pretty intense court cases happening right now looking at privacy rights with this kind of DNA database. A court order might not be that easy to get.”

  “All right, Ezra, court order or not, double down on trying to find her. She had to build a new identity somehow,” Sayer said. “Max, anyone she knew back in high school you could track down?”

  “She was one of those kids that was popular enough but didn’t seem to have any close friends,” Max said. “I think she did date some older guy for a few months. Why don’t I try to find him and see if he remembers anyone?”

  Sayer glanced at the DNA match on Ezra’s computer screen again. “Before we do anything else, I should call Kyle and tell him what’s going on.” It was early but she was sure he’d want to know right away. None too happy about that thought, Sayer retreated to a small office to make the call.

  Kyle answered the phone, voice thick with sleep.

  “Hello?”


  “Morning, Chief Nelson, it’s Agent Altair. I need to fill you in on the latest.”

  “What time is it?”

  Sayer could hear him rustling in bed.

  “Sorry to wake you. It’s just after six, but someone attacked us here last night, and—”

  “Wait what?” Kyle’s voice became sharper. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re all fine.” Sayer decided to be blunt. “But I just wanted to fill you in on the latest. We’re trying to determine if our older and more recent cases are connected. We’ve decided that your sister’s disappearance might be our best lead to figure that out.”

  Silence.

  Sayer continued, “Right now we aren’t sure if the evidence suggests that Cricket is a victim or a potential UNSUB, but, if the two sets of cases are connected, then that means they could both have something to do with your sister.…”

  Sayer could hear Kyle breathing over the phone. He said nothing for a very long time.

  “Kyle?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to decide how pissed to be, but I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet, so all I can muster is disbelief. First Max accuses my dad of abusing Cricket, and now you’re, what? Accusing my sister of murder? I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I understand. And I assure you we aren’t assuming anything beyond the fact that she is involved. That said, we do have her DNA on the presumed murder weapon.…” Sayer let that hang, making it clear that this wasn’t her fault.

  “Is it possible your lab screwed up? I mean, I’ve heard about the hearings.…” Kyle trailed off as well.

  “Fair enough. But they’re under the microscope right now. There’s no way her DNA match is a mistake. Which brings me to our other news.” Sayer tried to soften her voice. “We also have DNA evidence suggesting that Cricket is still alive, and that she was in the area as recently as seven months ago.”

  Silence again.

  “Kyle?” Sayer prompted.

  “She’s alive?” His voice sounded so hopeful.

  “We think so. She apparently submitted a blood sample to some kind of bone marrow donor database. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Not at all. Sorry, I’m just having a hard time with this. I mean”—he let out a huff of disbelief—“we were the most boring American family you’ve ever seen. And now Cricket’s all tied up in something like this. There’s just no way she killed those people.”

  “I agree it’s most unlikely, which is why we would really like to take a look at the old police report from your sister’s disappearance in 2002, as well as all the police records between ’96 and ’02. Max said the old police records and paper copies of the local paper would all be at the county archives?”

  Kyle grunted, clearly getting up. “All right, fine.” He sighed. “Yeah. Until about ten years ago, they kept all the police records there. It’s gone digital now, but back then it was all paper.”

  “I’d like to get a look at those records as soon as possible. When do they open?”

  “They don’t open today at all. But I’ve got keys,” Kyle continued. “Meet me there in thirty.”

  He hung up.

  Sayer went to gather Max for a trip down to Rockfish Gap.

  ROAD TO COUNTY ARCHIVES, ROCKFISH GAP, VA

  Max drove his truck off Main Street, away from the small center of Rockfish Gap and up a long driveway toward the county archives.

  “The archives are way up here?” Sayer asked after they had been driving for a few miles.

  “Yeah, the archives are housed in an old estate. Some rich family that used to live up above town. When they left the area, they donated their estate to be used as a county building. Now it houses the library, the local history museum, and the archives.”

  They finally pulled through a massive stone arch. The words AGERE PRO ALIIS were etched in the marble above the grand entry.

  “To act for others,” Max read the sign. “That’s a nice family motto.”

  Sayer looked over at him. “You read Latin?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m much more than just a pretty face.”

  She rolled her eyes as they emerged from the narrow driveway into a manicured open space. A topiary of sculpted bushes stretched off to their right, while rows of perfectly tended flower beds stepped up to their left, ending at an imposing stone structure that Sayer might have even called a castle.

  “Well, this’s fancier than I expected,” she said.

  Max grunted. “Yeah, we used to come up here all the time as kids. Make out in the gardens and such.”

  As the rain picked up, Max pulled the truck under the large stone portico. Sayer was grateful that they wouldn’t have to sprint through the rain yet again.

  They sat in the car, waiting for Kyle.

  “So”—Sayer watched down the driveway—“whether or not the old and new cases are connected, the old cases clearly revolve around Cricket Nelson. You said you didn’t know her all that well, but what do you remember about her?”

  “I actually had a crush on her in ninth grade.” Max’s mouth flickered up into a faint smile. “She was the only girl in my shop class and she just gave off this tough vibe. Her dad was a metalworker and did a ton of handyman work around town. He must’ve taught her how to use power tools, because she already knew what she was doing in shop class. She kicked our asses in the CO2 car competition … won the gold trophy and all.”

  Max shifted to face Sayer. “But we weren’t in many other classes together, and after that I mostly just saw her as a nice girl who I didn’t have much in common with. I certainly never thought she seemed mentally unstable or anything. She had a reputation as a sweet, maybe slightly awkward kid. I do wonder who beat the hell out of her the night she ran.”

  “Assuming it was really her father, do we buy the idea that Kyle didn’t know, or is he lying to us?”

  “Good question. If Mr. Nelson was really beating her up that badly, how could he not know? But then again, his reaction to the idea of his dad being an abuser sure felt real,” Max said.

  “Agreed,” Sayer said. “Just asking for your gut opinion.”

  “I see. You’re wondering if Kyle might also be involved in this case somehow.”

  “The thought has occurred to me. We’re talking an awful lot about his dad and his sister. A lot of serial killers manage to hide what they’re doing from their families, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s true here. What do you think? Any red flags about Kyle?”

  “Well,” Max said slowly, “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Either way, it’s best to keep him close, that way we can keep an eye on him.” Sayer realized that, despite all of her concerns, she trusted Max and his opinion. That was something at least.

  Moments later, Kyle Nelson rolled up in his cruiser.

  The chief got out, police-issue raincoat flapping in the stiff breeze as he approached the truck. Sayer got out and waved a greeting.

  “Thanks for coming so early.”

  He gave her a pinched nod, then eyed Max before heading to the keypad next to the front door. “Follow me,” he said brusquely.

  He punched a code and the solid wooden door swung open.

  As they entered the shadowy mansion, Sayer felt a tingling along her spine that she couldn’t explain. Not entirely sure why, she rested her hand casually on her gun.

  The entry was a grand hallway with a curving staircase at the end. Kyle strode in, confident.

  “County archives are on the first floor, over to the left.”

  He led them into a narrow hallway and pointed at doors as they passed. “Main library is that way in the ballroom and dining hall. These are the offices for librarians and local researchers. They only open once a week, so we’ve got the place to ourselves today. And this”—he stopped in front of a massive metal door—“is the archives.”

  “You’ve been here a lot?” Sayer asked.

  Kyle nodded. “We patrol up here pret
ty regularly, make sure no kids are breaking in. Never opened the archives, though.”

  “Don’t you ever have to consult old police files?” Sayer asked.

  Kyle let out a gruff laugh. “Have you seen Rockfish Gap? It’s not like we have cold cases or anything. Unless you count trying to figure out who stole old lady Johnson’s garden gnome. Never did solve that one.…”

  He tried a few keys until the lock clicked loudly. A cloud of dust puffed out as the door opened, making Sayer sneeze.

  They stepped into a two-story room lined with shelves.

  Max groaned.

  “Yeah, the previous police chief used to drop off a box of files once or twice a year and the librarian, Lettie, would put them away,” Kyle said. “Lettie might’ve had a system but she died a few years back and no one has been able to figure it out. These are land records and county files going back, I don’t know, a few hundred years probably. Not exactly well organized.”

  “No kidding.” Max stepped in farther and turned in a circle, looking up at the balcony running around the second story. “This is like a whole second library. We might be here awhile.”

  Sayer didn’t hesitate. “Right, so we’d better get started.”

  * * *

  Sayer began upstairs, while Max and Kyle tackled the downstairs. Row after row of musty books sent up dust that tickled the back of her throat. In one corner, a heaping pile of old newspapers threatened to swallow a row of moth-worn chairs.

  “There’s a huge section of reference books up here,” she called down. “Nothing that looks like records.”

  “I’ve got boxes here that might have something,” Max called up. “What kind of archives don’t label everything?” he grumbled.

  From the other side of the room Kyle’s voice filtered from behind a wall of shelves. “I’ve got some possible records here as well.”

  Sayer finished her circuit of the upstairs and was about to head down the curving staircase at the back of the room when her phone buzzed.

  She’d almost forgotten that Adi would be calling. It was barely seven in the morning; the young woman must have been up early fretting about this call.