Open Grave
Page 20
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lucy drove to the quarry, following Grayson’s directions. There was no one at the gate, so he hopped out and opened it for them. She parked the Subaru on a cleared area of packed earth and stone and walked with Maybelle to the edge.
The sparkling granite walls, interspersed with startling patches of green where wild plants had found soil to thrive in and birds had nested, reflected from the vibrant, unearthly turquoise of the water far below. It was a desolate spot, carved out of an otherwise verdant plateau with the river to the south and the mountain ridge to the east. But also filled with its own unique beauty.
A hawk soared overhead, a silent witness to their pilgrimage. Lucy stood in silence alongside Maybelle, not wanting to intrude upon the older woman’s private thoughts but also not wanting her to feel abandoned, alone in her re-awakened grief.
A few minutes later, Grayson joined them, standing at a respectable distance, his gaze focused on the dark depths of the quarry.
“Do you think any of them are still alive?” Maybelle asked in a sotto voice. “The men who did this? Do you think any of them have ever stood here, thinking about who those poor murdered souls were, who they left behind?”
Once upon a time, Lucy had been an optimist. Back then, she would have said yes as an affirmation of hope in the human race. But too many years and too much blood shed by uncaring, unfeeling men had come between her and optimism, so the only way she could answer was, “I don’t think so. Because if they did, they would have found a way to make things right. Or they would have admitted to themselves the cowardice that polluted their hearts and jumped.”
It came out harsher than she’d intended—Nick was always telling her she needed to work on her boundaries—but Maybelle simply nodded. “Guess the best any of us can do is to pray for all of them. The ones who still have a soul and the ones who forever lost theirs that day.”
Lucy noticed that the minister said nothing about forgiveness or God’s will or any of the other platitudes that to her often smacked of surrendering human responsibility to the universe at large. She decided that she preferred Maybelle’s interpretation: take care of what you can here on earth and let God take care of what you can’t.
The hawk seemed to agree, letting loose a piercing screech as it dove down into the water, its flight causing endless ripples across the placid surface as it emerged with a fish grasped in its talons. Maybelle’s gaze followed its path until it was lost in the afternoon sun.
“Take me to Winnie, please.”
They returned to the Subaru. Grayson had no idea where the old church and graveyard were located, suggesting that they go to the courthouse first and check the county property records, but Wash, as always, came through with what Lucy needed. The GPS coordinates he gave her were less than three miles away from the Greer town square.
At first the narrow two-lane county road wound past fields of corn and soy, but then it quickly gave way to forest. When their last glimpse of a building was over a mile back, Lucy started to doubt Wash, when a tiny, whitewashed chapel appeared as they rounded a bend in the road. Good thing, because she’d lost cell reception and couldn’t call him if she wanted.
“That’s it,” Maybelle said, leaning forward. “The house is gone, but that’s Henry’s father’s church. I’m sure.”
It looked like any of the dozens rural churches that punctuated the Pennsylvania farmland, but it matched Wash’s coordinates. Lucy pulled off the road into a small dirt parking area beside the chapel. The sign out front read: New Canaan. It didn’t list a denomination, instead simply said, “All welcome.”
They got out of the car. The forest was thick, their sudden arrival silencing the wildlife, creating an eerie auditory vacuum. On the far side of the church was a clearing overgrown with wild roses and honeysuckle. Lucy strolled over and was able to make the faint outline of a foundation and fallen chimney, its bricks stained and scorched with soot. Below the brambles lay the remnants of burnt timbers.
“Henry’s house,” Maybelle said as she and Grayson approached. Grayson seemed nervous, looking around, jumping at every cracked twig or random noise.
“We hid in the woods back there.” She pointed to the rear of the foundation. Then she pivoted about forty degrees, aiming for an area at the rear diagonal from the church’s back corner. “The cemetery was there.”
The others started across the overgrown grass and weeds. Lucy stopped, her attention caught by sunlight glinting off metal in the opposite direction.
She took a few steps back toward the road. Farther down from the chapel there was a SUV pulled off the road, parked in a clump of daylilies. Hiker? Maybe, but given the absence of any traffic or other human presence, she couldn’t help but feel on guard. She listened but didn’t sense any movement other than Maybelle and Grayson behind her.
She was armed, of course, a nine-millimeter semi-automatic holstered at her waist, but she wondered about detouring back to the car to grab the Remington pump-action she kept in her trunk.
The others passed out of her sight as she headed toward the Subaru. That’s when the first shot shuddered through the air.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
While Karlan finished negotiating with Franklin for possession of his phone—sounded like it was going to cost Karlan a brand new phone, probably out of his own pocket—TK called the mayor’s office to see if he was available for an update. She thought he’d be there prepping for his press conference since it was meant to start in fifteen minutes.
“No, I’m sorry,” his assistant told her in a flustered and worried tone. “He canceled the press conference and left, said he had family business to take care of. Now I have to call all these TV stations and reporters, and I have no idea what to tell them.”
TK hung up, leaving the poor woman to fend for herself.
“Greer is gone,” she told Karlan, gesturing him back to the car. He deposited Franklin’s phone in an evidence bag and secured it in the cruiser’s trunk, then hopped in. “Any ideas where he could be?”
“If he’s willing to kill to protect his family’s reputation over what happened six decades ago, do you think he’d let the witness your boss is bringing here to walk around, free to talk to anyone? My bet is, wherever she is, he is.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking but Lucy isn’t answering her phone. Neither is Grayson.”
He hit the gas, the cruiser sparking against the curb as it lurched away. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
TK didn’t answer. Instead she called Wash. “Can you give me the coordinates of Lucy’s phone?” Their phones had a location app installed, but it could only be accessed with Valencia’s permission. “I can’t reach her, and I’m worried she might have some unexpected and unwelcome company headed her way.”
“From Mayor Greer?” he asked.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“David found footage of him entering the warehouse last night. He’s in the background, but I enhanced it and saw he’s carrying a small bag.”
“We just found photos of him leaving, and he’s not carrying anything but is wearing gloves. What do you want to bet that bag contained a delayed fuse or ignition device?”
“No bet. I just texted you with the coordinates of where I sent Lucy. Must be no cell coverage there, I can’t locate a tower that she’s pinged outside of the one in Greer, but GPS says her phone is there.”
“Then that’s where we’re headed.”
“If there’s no cell coverage, how will I know if you need back-up?”
TK thought about that. “Anyone you could send would be too far away. Let me work with the locals.”
“You need to know what Lucy learned.” He quickly explained about Maybelle Mann and the girl she’d seen murdered. “We can’t trust the locals. If you don’t call back in twenty minutes, I’m calling the State Police.”
She didn’t bother telling him that she was with a local right now. Instead she hung up and pulled up the
map on her phone, showed it to Karlan. “This look like a likely spot? It’s the last place we can trace my boss’s phone.”
He considered. “No cell reception out there. It’s an old church—still has a small congregation even though they lost their minister. African-American, I forget which denomination.”
“Maybelle Mann is a minister. Maybe she wanted to pay last respects to her family or something?”
He steered them onto the highway headed toward the quarry. “It’s not far from the Greer estate. Mainly forest. Good hunting area.”
She remembered the judge’s room filled with trophies. “Let’s hope they’re not the ones being hunted. Got any friends you trust for backup?”
“Yeah, but no one who will make it there before us. And we probably shouldn’t use the radio, too public.”
They turned off the highway and onto a rural route that quickly left any trace of civilization behind. He drove with one hand as he worked his phone with his other, quick, pointed conversations that were over quickly. Then he hung up. “Lost reception, you have any on your phone?”
“Nope.”
“Okay then. Just you and me until the cavalry arrives.”
“What have we got as far as armaments?”
“What you see,” he gestured to his duty belt and ballistic vest, “plus I’ve got a backup piece at my ankle and the shotgun.” He nodded to the Remington secured at her knees. “You?”
“A Beretta nine millimeter and two knives.”
He frowned at her. “You been riding around with me for two days strapped?”
“If you’d’ve asked, I would’ve told you. I’ve got a concealed carry permit.”
“Teach me to trust a civilian.” He slowed the car, easing it off the road and killing the engine. “Church is ahead, around that bend.”
They both exited the vehicle, neither shutting their doors, moving silently into the trees edging the berm.
“We’re going to look pretty silly if this is all for nothing,” he said with a nervous laugh that told her it had been awhile since he’d been in the field. Small town like Greer, he might have never seen any real action.
“We’re going to look alive,” she reminded him. “That’s all that counts.” She took the lead, her Beretta at the ready, and he didn’t protest.
A shot rang out, sending birds screeching toward the sky. Then a sudden hush fell over the woods.
TK jogged over the uneven terrain, something on Karlan’s duty belt clacking as he followed. She pulled up as the trees gave way to a clearing.
There was the church, a pretty, whitewashed building with a steeple. Lucy’s Subaru waited beside it. She couldn’t see anyone near, but there was motion behind the church. She squinted, wished she had her monocular, but it was in her messenger bag, which had been destroyed last night.
She spotted a patch of white—Grayson’s shirt. He was huddled on the other side of a split-rail fence at the far corner of the clearing behind the church. Beside him was an older woman, Maybelle Mann, she guessed. She didn’t see Lucy—was she down?
“The shot came from there,” she pointed to a spot between nine and ten o’clock. “I’m going to circle around to the shooter. You go protect the civilians.” She directed Karlan’s attention to where Grayson and Maybelle were hiding at his two o’clock.
“Take this.” He handed her the shotgun and drew his pistol. She nodded and turned back into the trees, leaving him behind.
A second shot cracked through the air. This one came from a slightly different direction than the first. Both sounded like rifles, not shotguns or pistols. Was she dealing with one shooter on the move or two?
And where the hell was Lucy?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The first shot came when Lucy was totally exposed, the church between her and the others as well as her and the Subaru. Thankfully, the shot wasn’t aimed at her; it came from the trees to her left and was aimed behind the church in the direction of the graveyard.
She wasn’t the target. It had to be Maybelle. Which meant she had to decide: circle the long way around to get the shotgun from the Subaru and lose time, leaving two civilians unprotected. Or, get there as fast as possible, even if it meant exposing herself to fire.
Her feet were already moving before her mind finished its trail of logic: she had her pistol; adding a shotgun wasn’t going to appreciably increase her odds against a sniper using a long gun; and someone needed to provide cover and get Grayson and Maybelle back to the car so they could escape.
Ignoring the pains of protest radiating from her bad ankle as she moved in a zigzag formation, taking advantage of the low-lying overgrowth of bushes as cover, she ran as fast as possible to the back side of the church. Hugging its shadows until she ran out of building, she scanned the cemetery, searching for Grayson and Maybelle.
Two more shots had sounded—one from the same position as the first, one from a second position farther north. Had to be two shooters. No way could one man have moved through the forest and found a second vantage point that quickly, not even if he knew the terrain.
If they were smart, one would keep shooting to keep them pinned down while the other moved to engage them.
Finally, she saw Grayson and Maybelle. They were on the other side of the split rail fence, using the foliage as concealment. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any gravestones or statues tall enough to use as cover—as soon as either of them moved, they’d be visible to anyone within range. And it was open ground between her and them. If she tried to get to them, she’d be totally exposed herself.
She wasn’t far from the Subaru. Changing direction, she sprinted for the car and lunged into the driver’s seat. Then she steered it across the uneven terrain, hoping she wouldn’t take out the axle on one of the many boulders and fallen branches that littered the ground.
A bullet hit the rear window, starring the safety glass as the car lurched toward the fence where Maybelle and Grayson waited. The tires spun on a thick patch of leaves, but she shifted down and regained traction. Another shot pinged off the hood. She bashed into the fence, mowing it down so they wouldn’t have to climb over it.
“Get in!” she shouted.
As Grayson scrambled to his feet, she noticed movement on the far side of the cemetery. An armed man coming through the woods.
Grayson and Maybelle were hopelessly exposed with their backs to the man. Lucy crawled across the front seat and out the door. She opened the rear door to use as cover and aimed at the man. “Drop it!”
“I’m Detective Karlan,” he called back. “TK sent me.”
She kept her weapon trained on him as he approached. Grayson was helping Maybelle past the shattered remains of the fence but was taking his sweet time about it. The boy seemed to have absolutely no situational awareness, leaving Maybelle fully out in the open as he moved a length of wood out of her way.
Suddenly Karlan’s chin jerked up and he leapt in front of Grayson just as another shot split the air. Maybelle made a small noise of terror, but Lucy was already there, hauling her past the fence. Another shot, then two more, splintered the wooden railings. Lucy pushed Maybelle into the Subaru, then turned to where Karlan and Grayson had fallen.
Karlan had tackled Grayson, probably saving the boy’s life, but he’d taken a bullet in the chest. Lucy knelt beside him.
“Help me get him in the car,” she ordered Grayson when the boy didn’t move. “Now.”
“He saved my life,” Grayson breathed. “Why’d he do that? He saved my life.” Then he looked up at the trees where the shots were coming from. “They shouldn’t be aiming at me.”
Lucy ignored his adrenaline-fueled prattling, instead working to lift Karlan’s bulk. He had a vest on, good. Was gasping for breath, but that meant he was still breathing, also good. Didn’t mean they were out of the woods, not by a long shot.
“Grayson.” Her voice was as good as a slap in the face, finally breaking his trance. “Pick up his other arm and help me.”
“Stop right there.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TK crouched, moving stealthily through the woods. It reminded her more of hunting with her father and grandfather back in West Virginia than it did combat patrols in the war. Same principles applied, though: watch where you step, always check your six, and don’t forget to look up.
Several more shots sounded, all from the same location, the first she’d clocked. At least two shooters: one on the move, one stationary. Karlan had said there was good hunting back in these woods, so she began scanning for tree stands and hides. Another shot sounded, and she was able to pinpoint its origin within a few trees. It was a good sign that he was still shooting; meant that his partner hadn’t zeroed in on their target yet. All she could hope was that Lucy was busy turning the tables on the partner and protecting the civilians. And that Karlan reached them in time.
She focused on her mission: neutralizing the sniper. Leaning into a tree, a thick hemlock, willing her body to blend with its trunk, she scanned the leaves above her, searching for the sniper’s perch. A hint of motion, the faint sound of brass being ejected: he was reloading.
Pinpointing the sound to a nearby oak, she made out the silhouette of a man concealed by camouflage netting draped over top of a deer hide’s metal framework. Not exactly a full-fledged Ghillie suit, but good enough to fool a deer. Scanning down the tree, she spotted the wooden slats nailed to the trunk, forming a ladder. Too slow and noisy to climb it, besides she really didn’t want to give him the chance to finish reloading and continue shooting at her friends. Instead, she dropped on one knee to get a better angle, steadied her aim, and fired three shots in rapid succession.