Buried Alive_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  “I did, but what could the police do? They couldn’t find him.”

  “Didn’t you look for Brad and your baby yourself?”

  Choked up, Susan couldn’t speak for a moment. “Yes, but I never found them. I went back to Ohio, thinking he may have gone back there. I’ve been looking ever since.”

  Susan’s story explained everything. How could Kerry have been so angry that she didn’t search deeper for the truth? She’d dismissed her sister, thinking she was evil.

  Who else had she misjudged?

  Phil shaded his eyes from the strong sun. “Mr. Lamont, would you mind if we look in the cemetery’s storage shed?”

  Lamont swiped a clean handkerchief over his forehead. “No, but whatever for?” His shoulders straightened. “You don’t think I had anything to do with Willie’s death do you?”

  A yellow jacket buzzed near Phil’s head. He stood still, not wanting to piss off the pesky insect. “We have no cause to suspect you.”

  Lamont’s muscles relaxed. “Look away. The shed is unlocked.” He pointed to the small storage unit.

  Unlocked? Great. Anyone could have accessed the lawn equipment. “Come on, Gina, let’s explore.”

  She lifted the edge of her shirt, dipped her head and wiped her brow. “Aren’t you hot in those long pants?”

  Hot for her, maybe. “I’m used to the heat.” Not really, but wearing shorts was unprofessional.

  “Can’t we use the golf cart?” she whispered. He could tell she was trying to keep the whine out of her tone, but she had failed.

  “The walk’s less than the length of a football field.”

  He took off and Gina followed. “What are you hoping to find in that dirty old building?” she yelled after him.

  “A shovel with a bent edge.”

  She rushed next to him. “You think Willie Wyble had something to do with the murders?”

  Phil chuckled. “Let’s not jump to conclusions so fast. There are probably a hundred bent shovels in Tampa alone, but I need to make sure there isn’t one here.”

  Gina jogged next to him to keep up. How did she stay so upbeat? Looking at Willie should have made her sick. Women. He’d never understand them.

  As Lamont had claimed, the shed door was unlocked. In fact, it was half-open, which would give easy access to anyone.

  Once inside, he squinted to adjust to the darkness. Gina extracted a small Mag light from her purse and flicked it on. Her level of preparedness impressed him. She was a real girl scout. The thin wash of light allowed them to maneuver in the cramped space without tripping. Bags of fertilizer, rakes, mulch, and a riding lawn mower took up most of the space.

  Gina swung the light around the fifteen by ten foot room. “There are a bunch of shovels,” she said, pointing the light to the far corner.

  Phil pulled on a new pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. “Gimme the light.”

  She obliged. “What is it?”

  Phil lifted one of the shovels. “See here. The tip is bent. Looks like it might match the Jane Doe case Hunter’s working on.”

  “Cool.”

  “Or else I’m desperate to find something.” Phil returned the light to Gina. They left with the shovel, hoping Lamont wouldn’t mind if they processed it. The CSU team was finishing up across the grassy lot, and the medical examiner and his technicians were loading Willie’s body into the van. Time to see Lamont.

  A slew of cars were pulling into the half-full parking area, indicative of a viewing. He turned to Gina. “Why don’t you wait in the car and start the AC? I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “I’d rather come with you,” Gina said.

  He didn’t have time to argue. “Wait in the car. Please.” He held out the keys.

  She snatched them and shuffled back to the vehicle. Phil entered the chapel and asked for Mr. Lamont. A young woman directing the grieving relatives and friends to the chapel, pointed to an office down the corridor.

  Phil knocked and entered. Lamont lifted his head. “Yes, Detective?”

  Phil raised the shovel. “Do you mind if we process this?”

  His lips pulled back into a thin line. “Whatever for?”

  “Willie, or someone, might have used this in another crime.”

  “I think you’re grasping at straws. Willie would never harm anyone.” He waved a hand. “But go ahead if you think it will help. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Do you know Mr. Wyble’s home address?”

  Lamont huffed out a laugh. “Willie didn’t even have a home that I knew of. I’m not sure where he went when he left work.”

  “Did he have any relatives?”

  Lamont’s focus shifted down to the right. A moment later, he pulled open a desk drawer. “I did have him fill out an application. Or rather, I filled out his application for him. Willie said his hand shook too much to write, but I don’t think he knew how.”

  “If the letters in the dirt by his head are any indication, he did.”

  Lamont opened a file and handed Phil the paper. “Home address is blank, but he does give an address for a sister.”

  “Could you make a copy for me?”

  “You can have this one. I have no use for his information anymore.”

  “Thanks.”

  Phil and Gina left with the shovel in hand. Phil wasn’t sure if there was any connection between Willie Wyble’s death and the four Jane Doe murders, but he needed to follow every clue. Right now, it was all they had to go on.

  On the way out of the cemetery, Phil called Willie’s sister’s cell phone. She said she wouldn’t be home until five thirty. “We’ve got an hour to kill. You up for a bite?”

  “Sure, why not?” While her words sounded chipper, her tone did not. Gina’s enthusiasm for crime solving seemed to have dried up.

  In fact, instead of blasting him with a thousand theories about Willie’s death and the connection to the shovel, she stared out the cruiser window. She appeared to be more affected by the corpse than he’d realized, so Phil let her mull over her thoughts in peace.

  Once they were served at the restaurant, Gina picked at her food, but he wisely didn’t razz her about her reaction.

  Phil swiped a napkin across his mouth and signaled the waitress for the check. “Time to interview the sister.”

  They followed Ella Wyble Jones’ directions to her home in a posh neighborhood in South Tampa, which came as quite a surprise given Willie’s homeless state.

  A Hummer sat in Mrs. Jones’ drive. Phil estimated the house to be about thirty-five hundred square feet and the lot about seventy-five by one hundred. The zero lot line was too claustrophobic for him. The rows of colored flowers that bordered the walkway were a nice touch, but he wouldn’t live on such a busy street. He liked a neighborhood where kids could run down the middle of the road and play ball.

  “Nice place,” Gina said. She tugged on her skirt as they neared the front door.

  “If you like the up tight, money kind of place. I’d be surprised if she ever let Willie in her house.”

  Mrs. Jones answered after the first ring. He flashed his badge.

  “Detectives. Please come in.”

  He guessed her to be in her mid to late forties. Although her makeup was perfect, it didn’t hide the red color rimming her eyes.

  Mrs. Jones directed them to two leather chairs facing the screened-in pool. She sat opposite them on a new-looking suede sofa.

  “We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Phil said.

  “Thank you. As you might have guessed, Willie and I didn’t come in contact with each other very often, though God only knows I tried. Willie had...issues.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He could only imagine what plagued the man. “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to harm your brother?”

  She blew her nose. “No.”

  “Did he ever mention any friends or acquaintances he might have spent time with?” Somebody had to know the company Willie kept.

  She sh
ook her head and her cheeks sagged. “Willie was a loner. He did odd jobs for people. My brother liked to dig. Dig dirt, dig for worms, dig for the sake of digging. As you probably know, he worked for Mr. Lamont at the Fair Lawn Cemetery on a regular basis.”

  “We spoke with Mr. Lamont. Do you know of anyone else Willie came in contact with?”

  “He shared a space by the Crosstown with Tanner Nash. His favorite spot was under the overpass on Willow Avenue.”

  Hunter questioned her further about Willie’s mental state, but he didn’t learn much, other than the fact Ella Jones cared for her brother.

  “If you think of anything, give me a call.” Phil handed her his card and stood.

  Once outside, spunk came back into Gina’s step. She’d said nothing during the short interview.

  Gina jumped into the cruiser and slammed the door. “If I ever buy a house, it won’t be formal like this one. I was afraid to sit on the furniture.”

  “Then I think you might feel more comfortable where we’re going next.”

  19

  Kerry hadn’t been able to sit still ever since Hunter had picked her up from the morgue and taken her to the cabin in no-man’s land. Susan’s visit had diverted her thoughts from yesterday’s threatening phone call, but now the man’s eerie words, “You’ll be next,” reverberated in her head.

  At first she thought the warning might be purely bravado. Perhaps he wanted people to think he was the serial killer and all he wanted was attention, but his crisp words sounded educated. Not that educated people couldn’t kill, but...aw hell, she had no idea what to think anymore.

  Still, if he had nothing to do with the murders, why call her? And how did he get her number? And how did he know she was staying with Hunter?

  These random thoughts were driving her crazy. Okay. She admitted it. She was turning into a paranoid idiot. In fact, every noise made her jump. This afternoon when someone had dropped a metal pan outside her autopsy room, she’d nearly had a heart attack. If that wasn’t bad enough, tonight when a cloud passed over the setting sun and cast an eerie shadow on the window she’d flinched. Twice in fact, she’d sworn she’d seen a face peering in at her.

  Too bad Hunter had been doing his thing in the kitchen when the last image flashed by. Without someone else to corroborate her sighting, she had to believe she was losing her mind. After all, Hunter had claimed no one had followed them to this desolate house.

  Another shadow zipped by the cabin window, and her blood pumped through her system. She must have whimpered or something because Hunter came racing out with a dishtowel in his hands.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s nothing, really.” She chuckled. “For a moment, I thought I saw something outside. Can you believe it? A bird must have been flying close to the window and cast a shadow.” Though at six thirty, the sun was low in the sky. “Go back to doing what you were doing. I’ll be okay.” Or not. Her nerves were close to doing her in.

  He studied her. “I’ll check it out. Be right back.”

  Before she’d had a chance to tell him her imagination was out of control, he’d tossed the towel on the dining table, slipped his gun from his holster he’d slung on the back of the chair, and disappeared outside.

  Kerry waited on the sofa while Hunter investigated, her toe tapping out a beat, and her gaze never leaving the window. Why she didn’t want to press her face against the glass and look for herself was anyone’s guess.

  When Hunter flung himself in front of the pane and made a funny face, her hand shot to her chest. She laughed, and then hiccupped. No pills could have been a better cure for her anxiety than seeing Hunter Markum acting silly—something she never expected from the always-in-control man.

  At her smile, he ducked out of sight and returned inside. “The boogie man is not outside,” he announced with authority. “Wait here. I have something for you.”

  The refrigerator door banged open and a drawer closed. Hunter jumped out of the kitchen with two beers in his hand. “Ta da.” He handed her the cold bottle.

  Could she use a drink, or what? The tangy liquid raced down her throat. “That hit the spot. Thank you.” She grasped the beer bottle with both hands and settled the drink on her lap. “I can’t seem to stop the caller from getting to me. Thank you for looking around.” She stood and paced the small strip between the living room and dining room.

  “No problem. I didn’t see any signs anyone had been here.” He took a swig of his drink. “Hey, we’ll get this guy. I promise.”

  Her spine tingled. “I know, it’s just...”

  He placed his drink on the coffee table, sidled over to her, and put her bottle down. As Hunter ran his strong hands from her shoulders to her wrists, her heart raced.

  God, the man was a beautiful creature. Golden skin, blue eyes, and black, wavy hair that fell over his forehead. His musky scent raced to her brain and almost made her forget her anxiety.

  “Everything will be fine,” he said in the tenderest tone.

  “I know I’m out of control and that my worries are irrational, but I have this premonition this madman isn’t going to leave me alone.”

  “Your concerns are real, but if we take precautions, we’ll win. Besides, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He smoothed a knuckle down her cheek.

  Her heart warmed at his attention. She wanted him, but she refused to be sucked into a world that could hurt her. Hunter would leave, like everyone else she knew. His job meant the world to him.

  “I feel foolish worrying you,” she said, breaking the silence between them. Hunter could protect her. At least while they were both in the cabin. “Again, thank you.” She reached up to touch him but stopped part way.

  His gaze left her face for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. “Just doing my job.”

  His job. “Right.”

  Hunter never said whether he was paid to protect her, so maybe something else was going on.

  He stepped back. “Why don’t you start work on the Baby Doe reconstruction? I’m the principal on the case, remember?” He tapped her nose. “And I don’t like cold case files.” He flashed her a quick smile before sobering. “I want to solve this one almost more than the murders of the four women.”

  “Really?” Kerry understood he cared for the dead, deeply, but she hadn’t realized he differentiated between victims like she did. “I feel the same way.”

  “I know.”

  As if some magical force pressed against her back, she took a step closer. She told herself she only wanted to feel his warmth. Who was she kidding? She wanted to grab his strength and be...well, connected with him. They shared a common bond.

  Instead of rushing into his arms, she placed a finger on his chest. “If anyone can find who did this horrible thing to the child, it’s you.”

  He flashed her another smile. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ll try my best to get the perpetrator.”

  She bet compliments were far and few between in his line of work. “I know you will.”

  He squeezed her upper arms and dropped his hands. “I’ll whip us up something for dinner while you work.”

  Kerry’s mouth half opened. “Wait a minute. You want to cook?” Melissa warned her he’d ruined more meals than he’d made edible. “For my health, maybe I should cook.”

  “You’re taking my daughter’s side?” He winked. “Why I make the best mac and cheese in the world. You just wait and see.”

  She laughed for real this time. “You win. The sooner I begin the reconstruction, the closer we’ll be to identifying the toddler. At least I’m not worried I’ll receive an angry phone call about this case. The man who murdered the woman can’t be the same person who buried this little girl. If he wrapped her in a jacket and buried her with a teddy bear, the person cared.”

  “I’d say you’re right on that count. Completely different MO, thank God.”

  “Do you remember the woman the cops fished out of the ocean that John had me help with?” Tal
king about any case other than the toddler case helped release the knots in her neck.

  “Yeah. What about her?”

  “Did you ever show her photo at the shelter?”

  His whole body tensed. “Damn. I’m sorry. I haven’t had the chance to go. I promise I’ll check tomorrow.”

  “No problem. I know you’re not principal on that one.”

  “I’ll check who is and let you know if they’ve brought in a person of interest.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once Hunter disappeared into the small kitchen, she spread her gear on the dining room table. This time she’d taken the time to make a plaster cast of the skull. No way would she chance losing evidence again. Once was enough.

  The child’s jaw was missing, but she’d been able to put the cranium together using super glue. There were some cracks in the skull where an animal had bitten into the hard surface, but considering where they’d found the remains, she was happy with what she did have. The plaster mold looked good. She hoped she’d guessed correctly on the size and shape of the missing jaw.

  Hunter said they were processing the jacket and teddy bear but didn’t expect to find much because of the length of time since the infant’s burial. Water and dirt had soaked the two items, rendering genetic material unviable. Her hope now was to get DNA from the tiny bones. However, without a parent to donate their own DNA, the chances of finding a match to the child were slim. Hunter had checked the missing children reports, but none matched the sex, age, race and time frame for this infant.

  Before she realized how long she’d been working on the face, Hunter waltzed out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of mac and cheese into the living room/dining room area. The rich aroma of strong cheddar filled the air, and her stomach grumbled. Her last meal had been hours ago.

  “Here ya go.” Pride colored his face.

  “That was fast. I’m sorry Melissa isn’t here to join us,” she said. “I bet she would have loved this dinner.”

  “Her second favorite meal, but I imagine she’s eating real good stuff at Jen’s.”

  Kerry took the bowls from his hands set them down on the coffee table. “My work is kind of taking up most of the room on the table. Mind if we eat over here?”