by BJ Bourg
“Okay, just sit tight.” I glanced up and had to squint against the droplets that rained down on me. Melvin appeared in the dim glow from the drop lights and presented the spinal board. He had already fastened a rope to each end of the board, and he held onto the opposite end of one of the ropes while Takecia held onto the opposite end of the other.
Susan and Amy moved back as I took hold of the board. When I placed it down beside the skeletal remains, I realized we were standing in ankle-deep water and the clothes on the body were saturated. “Let’s get it under the body,” I said.
We all knelt in the water and began scooting the board under the body.
“The water’s getting deeper,” Amy called over the howling of the wind above us. She was right. Water was gushing down the walls of the hole now and the level had increased an inch within minutes.
Once we’d slid the board under the body, I tugged on one of the ropes. Melvin and Takecia began slowly hoisting the body out of the hole. Susan and I moved to either side of the spinal board and helped guide it up through the hole. The board had almost cleared the ground level when a violent gust of wind blew under the tent and ripped the canopy right off of the poles. There was a loud snap, Takecia cursed, and a torrent of rain slammed down on us.
At that same moment, the end of the board that held the upper portion of the body plunged to the ground. The drop was so sudden that I didn’t have time to react and it crashed into the water, throwing the body free.
It was my turn to curse. The water was now about six inches deep and rising fast. The body had crumbled into a loose pile of fabric and bones. I quickly dropped to my knees and tried to find the boots. Susan had scrambled up the ladder and was talking excitedly to Melvin and Takecia.
Amy placed the spinal board on the flooded ground and moved toward the head of the body. I felt around under the water and my fingers brushed against one of the boots. Working my way upward, I got a grip of the back of the pants with my right hand and slipped my left hand under the lower legs.
Her head only inches from mine, Amy cradled the head and back in her hands. She nodded and said, “I’m ready if you are.”
I nodded and we began to lift the body from the water. As soon as it cleared the water, the chunk of fabric I held in my right hand suddenly ripped and the body fell back into the water. I grunted and reached back under the body.
“Clint, I think his arm disconnected from his shoulder,” Amy said. “It’s just hanging here, connected by the shirt.”
I tried to blink away the rain, but it was blinding me. “Let’s try to get as much of it as we can on the spinal board,” I said. “If we lose any parts of the body, I’ll come back for them.”
With that said, we managed to scoop the skeletal remains onto the board. The wind was still whipping around up top and I shielded my face as I glanced toward the lights. I couldn’t hear any more voices, so I wasn’t sure what was happening.
“Susan, is everything okay up there?”
“Yeah, hand me the other rope.” Her face hovered just above me. “Takecia took a tent post to the arm. It cut her pretty good, but she’s fine.”
I handed her the end of the rope that had been flung into the grave when the spinal board fell. Melvin appeared on the opposite side of the hole. As they began reeling in the rope, Amy and I steadied the spinal board to ensure it didn’t flip over again. Finally, after a few tense moments, the skeletal remains were above ground. I followed Amy out of the grave and squinted against the blistering rain. Two of the drop lights had shattered when they slammed against the tent poles, so Melvin had shut off the generator. The camcorder was drenched and possibly destroyed.
I checked on Takecia and, thanks to the intermittent lightning strikes, was able to see that her upper arm was bandaged. “You okay?”
“It is nothing,” she said, smiling. “Just a splinter.”
I smiled back and then watched as Melvin placed a body bag next to the spinal board. The wind kept whipping the plastic edges of the bag around, so Amy and Susan helped him anchor it to the ground. I pitched in and we were finally able to get the spinal board with the skeletal remains into the bag. We were about to zip it up when I remembered the revolver in the holster.
“I need to recover the revolver,” I said, hurrying to my crime scene box to retrieve a fresh pair of gloves and a plastic bag. As soon as I got to the police department, I would have to remove the revolver from the plastic and set it out to dry.
Melvin had produced a bright spotlight and was illuminating the holster when I returned. When I pulled on the leather strap that secured the revolver in place, the entire metal snap, which had rusted together, broke loose from the leather. Leaning over the revolver to shield it from the rain, I eased it from the holster and checked the cylinder. There were two live rounds and four spent casings. I could see signs of corrosion around the primers of the non-fired bullets and when I attempted to eject them from the cylinder, they didn’t budge.
While Melvin, Susan and Amy zipped the body bag and carefully strapped it to the back rack of Melvin’s four-wheeler, I got a zip tie from my box and secured the cylinder in the open position and placed it inside the evidence bag. By the time I was done and the gun was locked in my crime scene box, everyone else was ready to leave the area.
“Clint,” Melvin called from the saddle of the four-wheeler.
I walked over and leaned close to hear him over the weather.
“The trail of the suspects has most certainly washed away”—he indicated toward the north—“but they were last heading in that direction. My guess is they veered to the east at some point and hit one of the neighborhoods, where a car was waiting for them.”
I nodded, making a mental note to canvass the neighborhoods in Mechant Loup-North as soon as possible.
Takecia—her AR-15 slung across her back—brushed by me and got on the four-wheeler behind Melvin. They headed out immediately. A coroner’s investigator was supposed to be waiting for the body at the end of North Project Road. The plan was to have the body transported to the morgue, where a forensic anthropologist would meet with us the next day to examine the body. Zeke’s autopsy was also scheduled for the next morning. I didn’t relish that one. I hated attending autopsies for women and children.
After securing my crime scene box on the front rack of Susan’s four-wheeler, I grabbed my flashlight and approached the grave. I aimed the light into the hole, which was already half filled with muddy water.
“We dug a pond,” Amy said. “Maybe we should stock it.”
I grunted and gathered up the camcorder and most of our other equipment, knowing we would have to leave some behind. We secured the gear on the back rack of Susan’s four-wheeler, wrapped the area of the gravesite in crime scene tape, and then I waved for Amy to jump on the four-wheeler behind Susan.
“What about you?” Amy wanted to know.
“I’ll bring up the rear,” I said, raising my voice over the roar of the thunder-storm. “I’ll let the taillights guide my way.”
After hesitating, Amy mounted the four-wheeler and Susan fired it up. They set off into the darkness, just a dark shadow marked by two red lights that jostled through the sheets of rain. I dropped in behind them and plodded through the sloppy mud. It was wet and miserable, but I welcomed the time alone so I could think. I needed to figure out why someone would want to dig up an old grave. Whatever the reason, it had to be bad, because a young boy had been murdered over it.
I tried to keep pace with the ATV, but it was difficult. The mud was mushy and the exposed roots were slick. I stumbled often, but never fell, and kept my eyes trained on the taillights. When lightning would strike, our entire surroundings would brighten up like the daytime and my guiding light would momentarily disappear, only to reappear a second later when darkness enveloped us once again. Each time it happened, those red eyes seemed a little dimmer, and I hoped it wasn’t indicative of where my chances of solving this case were heading.
CHAPTER
12
Susan and I woke up to the blaring alarm at seven o’clock the next morning.
“What day is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“You need to stop asking that,” Susan mumbled, “or I’m going to have you checked.”
It seemed like we’d only been asleep for an hour. After leaving North Project Road, Susan, Amy, and I had met with Melvin and Takecia at the hospital, and the four of us watched as an emergency room doctor stitched up Takecia’s arm.
“This is the second officer I’ve stitched up in twelve hours,” the doctor had commented, a frown playing across her face. “What’s going on out there?”
Takecia had explained her battle with the tent pole and declared herself the victor. “It was a fierce battle, that you can be assured,” she’d said with a gleam in her eyes, “but I won.”
Once we’d left the hospital, Susan and I had headed to the police department so I could set the revolver and the camcorder out to dry. Melvin had given Amy a ride to the station, where her car was parked, and they had both gone home to get some sleep. Baylor was covering the night shift for Melvin. Regan was scheduled to be back at the office first thing in the morning, and Susan was going to meet her there to give her a tour of the town.
After I had finished laying out the evidence, I’d met Susan at home and found her in a steaming tub of water. Although we were in the middle of a hot summer, the rain had chilled me to the bone and I’d taken a steaming hot shower while she soaked. We had made idle talk—she’d had to yell most of the time so I could hear her over the shower—while recovering from the cold rain, and had retired to the bedroom feeling refreshed and full of energy. We took full advantage of Grace being away on vacation, and within an hour, that energy was played out.
Now, dragging my legs from the bed and letting them drop to the floor, I was yearning for a day off. Of course, I knew I wouldn’t get another day off until I solved this case, so I decided to get to work. Besides, I had to meet with Amy, Dr. Louise Wong, and a forensic anthropologist from La Mort in an hour, so I had to get my ass in gear.
“I had a chance to talk to Gracie yesterday,” Susan called from the bathroom. “It sounds like she’s having fun with your mom and dad. She doesn’t seem to miss us one bit.”
I grunted and walked to the sink to brush my teeth. “Speak for yourself. I know she misses me.”
Susan had just snapped her bra into place and was reaching for her tan uniform shirt when she shrieked and cursed out loud.
I spat the toothpaste from my mouth and whirled around. “What is it?”
She had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide. She pointed at me. I glanced down at my bare chest.
“What?” I asked, befuddled. “What’s wrong?”
“Your back,” she said. “It…it looks like someone carved you up with a pitchfork.”
I glanced over my shoulder so I could see my back in the mirror. I laughed when I saw the claw marks Susan had dug into my back earlier in the morning. When it had happened, I’d felt the cool burn, but I’d since forgotten about it.
“I guess you’ll walk around with my DNA under your fingernails today,” I said, still laughing.
“Don’t let anyone see that,” she said, her face burning red.
I cocked my head to the side. “And who in the hell’s gonna see my bare back at work? I don’t normally walk around sans shirt when I’m hunting down bad guys.”
“I don’t know.” She still seemed to be in shock. “Just don’t let it happen.”
As I continued brushing my teeth, she walked over and rubbed her fingers gently across my back, retracing the claw marks. I didn’t know if she was really horrified or simply proud of her handiwork, but I interrupted her by pulling on my shirt.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, kissing her before walking to my closet to finish getting dressed. “I don’t want to be late for the autopsy—or bone examination.”
“No breakfast?”
“I’ll grab something on the way out,” I called over my shoulder. I snapped my pistol in place and rushed downstairs, where Achilles and Coco were waiting for me. My heart sank when I saw the look in Achilles’ eyes. He wanted to come with me. I dropped to my knees so I could look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Big Man, but I’ve got work to do. I’d bring you along, but you don’t want to see what’s about to happen—especially to little Zeke McKenzie.”
He cocked his head to the side, as though trying to understand the words that were spilling from my mouth.
“Don’t make like you don’t understand me,” I scolded. “Your English is better than mine.”
CHAPTER 13
Amy was waiting for me in the parking lot at the coroner’s office when I arrived. My cell phone started ringing before I could get out of my Tahoe. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.
“This is Clint,” I said and waited for a response.
“Did you find the man who killed my son?”
I sighed heavily when I recognized Red McKenzie’s voice. “Hey, Red, I’m sorry, but we don’t have anything yet. I’m just arriving at the coroner’s office. Dr. Louise Wong will perform the autopsy on Zeke and we’ll know exactly what happened to him within a few hours. They’re also set to examine the body that was buried in the same grave as Zeke. Please don’t repeat this, but it appears it’s been there for many years—maybe decades. If we can somehow identify that body, it might lend some insight into what happened out there Monday night.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Finally, Red spoke again. “Please let me know as soon as you find out anything. I want to know what’s going on. I want you to find who did this.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, frowning. “I’m real sorry, Red.”
“Why are you sorry?” he retorted. “Did you kill my boy?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t be sorry—just catch that son of a bitch!”
Before I could respond, the call ended. I sat there for a moment. Despite his wishes, I did feel sorry for the man. He probably felt as though it was his sole responsibility to protect his sons, and one of the boys had been taken on his watch, while he lay asleep at home. In addition to the tremendous amount of sorrow that had overcome him and the intense rage that was burning inside of him, he was probably also experiencing some level of guilt.
Amy raised her hands as though wanting to know if I was ready to go inside. She couldn’t see me through my tinted windows, but she was staring right at me. I opened the door and dropped to the ground.
“Red McKenzie just called me,” I explained.
“Oh, jeez, I feel bad for that poor man.”
I nodded and grabbed my camera before following Amy into the morgue. Dr. Wong and her assistant were garbed-out and they were prepping Zeke’s body for autopsy. She glanced up when we walked in.
“Hey, gang, nice to see you two again.” She frowned through her clear face shield. “Why is it that we keep meeting like this? Why can’t we run into each other in the grocery store or the park or some other place?”
“We shop at different stores?” I offered. “And I don’t go to the park?”
“That makes sense.” She indicated Zeke’s body. “What’s the story with this young man?”
I told her what we knew so far. She listened intently until I was done.
“So,” she said, “the skeletal remains in the other cooler were found under this body in the same grave?”
I nodded.
“Wow—two bodies found in the same grave, but put there at vastly different periods in time.” Her brow was furrowed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of such a thing being done, except through a funeral home.”
I tried to think back through all of the cases I’d worked over the years, and—like Dr. Wong—I couldn’t remember anything like this ever happening before. As I considered her words and watched her begin Zeke’s autopsy, I picked up where I’d left off last night in trying to figure out this ca
se.
It was definitely an odd one, and I had no clue where the evidence would take us—provided we would develop more evidence along the way. A sense of panic threatened to rear its ugly head within my chest, as I considered the possibility of the trail going cold right here in the morgue. There were no cameras in the woods and there had been no potential witnesses. Sure, we would canvass the neighborhoods around North Project Road, but the chances were slim that anyone would know anything.
Amy photographed the autopsy and I took notes while Dr. Wong worked on Zeke. A thorough pathologist, she didn’t leave a stone unturned when trying to determine a cause of death or trying to recover evidence from his body, and it was four hours before she was done.
She had already told us the manner of death would be ruled a homicide and the cause of death was blunt force trauma, consistent with being hit in the back of the head with a shovel. She’d also determined that he had been beaten while he was on the ground.
“It appears he was stomped in the face while he was on the ground,” she had said, pointing out the injuries for Amy to photograph. “Whoever did this to him wanted to make sure he wouldn’t regain consciousness and dig his way out of that grave.”
While her assistant moved Zeke’s body back to one of the coolers and cleaned off the stainless steel autopsy table, Dr. Wong removed her personal protective equipment and washed off in preparation for the examination of the skeletal remains.
“Mary Roach—she’s a renowned forensic anthropologist—will be here after lunch and she’ll do a preliminary, but then she’ll transport the remains to her lab for a more thorough examination,” Dr. Wong explained. “I’ll do an autopsy before she takes the body away, in the hopes that we can get some immediate answers.”
Amy and I stood around waiting while the assistant took the skeletal remains from the cooler and brought them to be x-rayed. When he was done, he and Dr. Wong transferred the body onto the autopsy table and then she brought the film into the room. Once she’d snapped the first film onto the viewer, she grunted.