“I’ll let Zander tell you himself.” Elly and Zander had announced Elly’s pregnancy three days ago. Even though she was only two months along, Zander’s excitement had been palpable.
And God had told Josiah an important detail meant for him alone – the baby was a boy.
Shoes scuffed the vinyl floor behind Josiah.
Turning, he found the warden approaching.
Skin the color of the icebergs surrounding Hephzibah, a receding hairline, and a sizeable gut gave the man a soft appearance, but not everything was as it appeared. Warden Bill Waterson was highly intelligent, intuitively observant, and utterly honest. Following the arrest of the previous warden last year, Waterson had worked hard to rebuild the community’s trust in the prison.
He’d also personally supported expanding the prison ministry. If not for that, Josiah knew he wouldn’t have been hired on part-time.
“Hear you ran into some trouble again.” Waterson’s chubby hands bulged inside the pockets of his dark khakis.
Rafe shrugged limply. “We all got our talents.”
“I also heard you didn’t incite it. Nor did you fight back.”
“Fighting stirs up more trouble. It ain’t worth it.”
Man, had God changed Rafe.
The Rafe who had come in had been combative and mouthy. While he’d never gotten in a fight, he’d talked a tough game.
Now Rafe turned the other cheek. Just like Jesus had commanded.
Waterson jingled some keys in his pockets. “We’ve been contracted out to do some cleanup and repairs on Alcatraz Island. The Park Service has closed the island to tourists for the next two days so we can get this done. I’ve added your name to the list. There’re no Almas going, so that should put some distance between you and them during the days you’re working.”
Rafe jerked his head up. “You messin’ with me? I ain’t been here that long.”
“Ordinarily, you wouldn’t be eligible. But you’re in on non-violent offenses, you’ve been a model prisoner, and the crew is a few guys short. You’ll leave tomorrow at six a.m.”
Alcatraz.
The word settled in Josiah’s gut like a brick.
The unusual spiritual activity he’d witnessed, combined with a work crew of inmates, likely equaled one thing.
Trouble.
₪ ₪ ₪
Zander checked his phone. Again.
Still no communication from Elly. He’d call her. As soon as they were done here.
Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he ignored the amused shake of his partner’s head. Until Morgan had a wife expecting their first child, he wouldn’t understand.
And given that Morgan was a good fifteen years older than he was and not seeing anyone, he doubted that would happen anytime soon. If ever.
“She wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
Morgan chuckled as they pushed through the swinging doors leading to the morgue. “It’s called morning sickness, kid. She’ll get over it.”
He was probably right.
Didn’t make Zander feel any better about it, though.
The medical examiner, a stocky guy named Adams who reminded Zander of an overgrown squirrel, looked up as they approached the sheet-draped corpse in front of him. “You finally made it?”
“You finally finished?” Morgan shot back.
On cue.
Both men chuckled. Seemed the exchange never got old.
To them, anyway.
Zander swallowed hard and tried not to look at the pasty face sticking out from under the sheet.
He thought by now he’d be used to this part of the job, but he still hated it.
At least he no longer threw up.
“So, our vic is a 24 year-old white male. Official cause of death is drowning.”
Morgan arched an eyebrow. “And we’re here because…”
Adams’ expression silently applauded Morgan for giving the correct response. “Because there’s evidence that he had help drowning.”
“Hmmm.” Morgan might have sounded disinterested, but Adams had his attention.
With movements as gentle as if the man were still alive, Adams turned the corpse’s head and pointed at the area above the left ear. “Note the wound here.”
Zander clenched his jaw and moved in for a closer look.
Four clearly defined wounds, lined up in a straight row, indented the man’s skull. Adams magnified the image.
It confirmed what he’d feared.
The wounds were triangular shaped.
He’d seen this before. They all had. “Brass knuckles?”
Adams nodded. “In my opinion, yes.”
It matched four other unsolved cases sitting in their files. The earliest of those cases went back almost two years, the most recent was only three months cold.
Were the cases all connected?
Brass knuckle injuries weren’t terribly common. Brass knuckles with triangular nodules even less so.
Morgan leaned in to get a closer look. “But this didn’t kill him?”
“It fractured the skull, creating a subdural hematoma.” Adams pointed at part of the skull that looked misshapen. “The water in his lungs shows he was still breathing when he hit the ocean. I believe this injury, left untreated, would have killed him, but the water did it first.”
“Have you id’d him yet?” Zander shifted back, only too happy to put more distance between himself and the body.
“Sergei Kuzmich. Here from Russia on a student visa.”
Student visa? At 24, he was likely at the upper end of the student visa population. “What was he studying?”
Adams shrugged. “That’s your job.”
True enough. “Personal effects?”
Adams nodded at a stainless tray on the counter. “Over there.”
Zander walked over, pulling on gloves before examining the tray’s contents. A wallet, a car fob, and a watch. Nothing else.
The car fob had a Ford emblem. A single key dangled from the ring. Likely a housekey, judging by the shape of it.
But it was the oversized gold watch that really caught his attention. He resisted the urge to whistle. Fancy. Probably cost a few grand, maybe more. For that price, you’d think they’d at least make it waterproof.
The hands were frozen at 1:19. Was that the time the body hit the water? Or did the watch continue to run for a little while?
No way of knowing for sure.
He shifted his attention to the final item on the tray, reaching for the crusty brown wallet. The thin leather billfold boasted the logo of an expensive brand.
Way more expensive than he’d buy personally.
Maybe the guy came from money. Or maybe he was involved in something that gave him a bigger bank account than most students had.
Given the way he’d died, Zander would bet on the latter.
He flipped open the billfold.
A student ID from Bay View Technical School stared back at him. The unsmiling sandy haired man in the picture evidenced that the body on the table had once been a living, breathing kid with hopes and dreams.
Too bad his life had been tragically cut short. Just like Jave’s.
Zander pushed thoughts of his younger brother out of his mind before he went down that dark path again. Funny how finally solving Jave’s murder last year had failed to bring the closure he’d sought.Sure, he now knew what had happened to Jave, but it didn’t bring Jave back.
“Trace evidence?” Morgan asked, even though they both knew the answer.
Adams shook his head. “Water washed away whatever might’ve been on the body.”
Frankly, with that bloody wound on the head, they were lucky the body was still intact. With over a third of the world’s shark attacks occurring in the waters off San Francisco and the scent of blood from the body, it should’ve drawn all sorts of unwanted attention.
One of the biggest reasons why he wasn’t a fan of the water. He had no desire to end up as shark bait.
; Likely the body hadn’t been in the water long. When they finished up here, he’d check missing persons and see if anyone had reported this guy. If that didn’t turn up anything, he’d check school records. Sure, it was summer, but he was pretty certain that Bay View held classes year-round.
Zander turned back to the wallet. Two credit cards, a grocery store loyalty card, and a gym membership card filled the remaining slots on the wallet.
Four one-hundred dollar bills rounded out the wallet’s contents.
Between the cash, credit cards, and watch, they could safely rule out robbery as the motive.
No, this kid had been killed for some other reason and it was his job to find out why.
Five cases, all likely involving the same kind of brass knuckles. Coincidence? Or were they looking for a serial killer?
Two
Josiah stared at the simple house in front of him. The light blue exterior reminded him of the sky, the dark blue door the ocean he loved so much, the white trim and porch a constant reminder of God’s cleansing.
It was really a perfect house for Zeke.
“Josiah? I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
He turned at the sound of Bethany’s voice. How had he not heard her car pull up? “Hello, my sister.”
And she was his sister. In more ways than one. Her marriage to Zeke last month had solidified the bond.
It was amazing how things could change so quickly in just ten months. From Elly and Zeke falling, to Elly marrying Zander, to Zeke and Bethany getting married and moving into the cozy three bedroom house in front of him.
Zander had even helped Bethany land a job at the police department as a clerk which, given that she was still in uniform, was probably where she’d just come from.
Bethany’s smile crinkled the corners of her hazel eyes. “What are you doing hanging around outside?”
“Contemplating the coming storm.”
Bethany’s gaze traveled to the clouds, but missed the growing spiritual darkness beneath it. “Maybe it’ll miss us.”
“I suspect not.” Even if the rain didn’t come, there was a battle looming. He could feel it in his soul.
“How are you doing?” She studied him with an intuition that never failed to surprise. “The boat must be awfully quiet these days.”
“It is, but the Lord is always with me.”
She nodded her agreement, her short blonde curls brushing her cheeks with the movement. “Still, it’s not quite the same.”
It wasn’t. The Lord had designed them to live in community. Being alone for the first time ever was a startling thing.
Especially since he was the only unfallen among them.
“I think of returning to Hephzibah.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words to anyone but the Lord.
Bethany tilted her head slightly. “Why don’t you? I mean, we’d miss you so much, but if that’s what’s best for you then you should do it.”
She had no clue how tempting that was.
“The Lord says no.” And if the Lord said no, then that was the end of the conversation. He turned his attention to the house. “How do you like your new place?”
“I still can’t believe it. I mean, Zeke bought me a car and then put money down for this place. I know he said you guys have jewels and stuff, but I still can’t believe all this didn’t wipe you guys out.”
He grinned. “And I can’t believe Zeke is learning to drive, but that’s true, too.”
Honestly, the jewels he’d sold hadn’t made a huge dent in their supply. There were plenty remaining should Elly and Zander decide they wanted to do the same thing.
Bethany waved toward the house. “Let’s go inside. The kids will be so happy to see you.”
Bethany started up the walk and he fell into step beside her. “How are things with your parents?”
She, Zeke, and the kids had made several trips to see her family in the last eight months, attempting to build a relationship with people she hadn’t spoken to in years.
A small sigh answered him. “Okay, I guess. They love Zeke. Naturally. And are great with my kids. But it’s still pretty strained for me.”
He opened the screen door, holding it while she reached for the front door. “Give it time. There are years of hurts, on both sides, that take time to heal.”
“I know you’re right, but I want it like it was before.”
Before. That small word encompassed so much. Before she’d rebelled, walked away from God, married James, become a single mom when James left, and been widowed.
With the rift Elly and Zeke’s falls had created, he understood the idea of before better than ever.
“Never forget. Your journey, difficult as it was, led you to where you are. Our Sovereign God uses our brokenness to accomplish amazing things. One day, they will see and accept that.”
“Mommy!” Four-year old Becca flew down the hall, her brown curls flapping around her head, and wrapped her little arms around Bethany’s legs.
Bethany knelt and drew her daughter into a hug.
After a few seconds, Becca pulled away and launched herself at him. “Uncle Siah!”
While he may have lost having his family on the boat with him, he had gained a brother, sister, two nephews, and a darling niece. He swung her up into his arms, eliciting an excited giggle. “My little Yaqar.”
Precious.
One day he’d explain to her that God saw her as precious, as yaqar, but for now, having a special name from him seemed to make her feel precious, even without translation.
Bethany set her purse on the small table inside the door and shrugged off her lightweight jacket. “I do hope you plan to stay for dinner.”
“I would love to.” Whatever Zeke had started preparing smelled delicious.
Zeke, with his gift for languages, had been sponsored by a translating company. He worked out of the house more often than not, translating a variety of documents or sitting in on conference calls, allowing him to take care of Becca while Bethany worked.
Another gift from the Lord.
Zeke stepped out of the kitchen, a grin on his caramel colored face. “I thought I heard your voice.”
After greeting Bethany with a kiss, Zeke embraced him in a firm hug. “Come on, you can help me slice veggies while Bethany settles in.”
“Where are the boys?” Bethany asked, her gaze roving around the tidy living room.
“Playing soccer in the backyard.” Zeke jerked his head toward the kitchen. “But don’t worry. I was keeping an eye on them through the window.”
Bethany nodded, her shoulders relaxing.
With a fenced yard in a good neighborhood, Bethany really had little to worry about, but the events of the past year, when a killer had targeted her and her family, lingered. The Lord assured Josiah it would pass, but it took time to heal some scars.
Josiah washed his hands and grabbed a knife, the familiar routine of slicing vegetables bringing some comfort to the turbulence stirring in his soul.
Lord, prepare me for the coming storm.
He wanted to press into the Lord, beg for answers, but the Father had told him to wait.
So, he would wait.
And pray. Pray without ceasing, as scripture admonished.
He was on the third cucumber when Zeke broke the silence. “What’s on your mind, brother?”
Josiah looked up to find Zeke’s brown-eyed gaze locked on him, even as he slowly stirred the simmering marinara sauce.
“Something is happening.” The words sounded ominous in the kitchen.
“Something?”
Josiah looked for Becca, pleased to find her watching some cartoon in the living room. “The forces of darkness are especially active. Around Alcatraz. And there will be a group of prisoners working there starting tomorrow.”
Zeke’s eyebrows lowered. “What has the Father said?”
“Wait and pray.”
Zeke gave a solemn, single nod. “Then I will wait and pray with you.”
₪ ₪ ₪
That had been easy. Surprisingly so.
Zander skimmed the police report in front of him. When he’d put Sergei Kuzmich’s name into the system, he hadn’t expected to get a hit.
Yet he did.
And it may have bearing on their case.
Sergei had rented a fishing boat four days ago and never returned it.
Four days fit within the preliminary timeframe for time of death. Maybe Sergei hadn’t returned the fishing boat because he was already dead.
That same fishing boat had been found three days ago at Alcatraz Island.
Had Kuzmich been killed on Alcatraz?
It seemed likely that Kuzmich had taken the fishing boat out there, and unlikely that he would have abandoned it. The rental company had his credit card on file, as well as a copy of his driver’s license. Not returning the machine was stupid at best.
Unless circumstances had prevented him from returning it. Circumstances such as murder.
“What’d you find, kid?” Morgan approached, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.
How Morgan could drink that slop, especially so late in the day, was a mystery, but the man ran on coffee. “I think Kuzmich may have been killed on Alcatraz.”
Morgan’s eyebrows darted toward the stubble darkening his shaved scalp. “Do tell.”
As he finished recounting the fishing boat connection, Morgan slowly nodded. “Body wasn’t found too far from the island. Could explain a lot.”
An invisible weight settled across Zander’s shoulders. If Alcatraz was a potential crime scene, he knew what was coming next.
“We probably oughta check it out. See if we can find any trace that Kuzmich was there.”
He wanted to argue. It had been four days since that fishing boat was rented. Thousands of tourists trampled that spit of land each week. If Kuzmich had been there, any evidence he might have left behind would be long gone.
The elements, if nothing else, would see to that.
Still, they had a job to do.
Morgan crossed to his desk and reached for the phone. “Let me line up a police boat for tomorrow and we’ll head out there.”
Fantastic. Because he loved being on the water so much.
Empty Is the Grave Page 2