Buried Evidence

by Kellie VanHorn

  First stop was another visit to the judge for a warrant. She barely batted an eyelash at yet another request. “I hope you find him this time,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  Back in the car, Ryan plugged Ted Kincaide’s address into his GPS and drove with Laney south of town, past Sandy Bluff’s equivalent of an industrial zone. Large flat-roofed warehouses and abandoned factories whizzed by as he followed the highway toward the farm fields beyond the city outskirts. A couple of lower-end neighborhoods sprawled out here—cheap construction, cookie-cutter design and only the tiny trees the builder had planted after razing anything worth keeping.

  He stopped in front of Kincaide’s house and let the car idle as they waited for Sarah. The driveway of the yellow split-level home was empty and the double-garage door was closed, giving no indication whether the owner was home.

  “What does Kincaide do for a living?” Laney asked. “Would he have been able to plant the bomb in my suitcase?”

  “That’s a good question. Lawrence Brown certainly had better opportunity. But based on the size difference between the airport-bathroom attacker and the man from last night, we’re looking for two people. Maybe he had help.”

  Sarah drove up in her SUV and pulled into the driveway. Ryan and Laney got out to meet her, in what was starting to feel like a daily addition to his routine.

  She pointed at his jeans and T-shirt, now topped by a heavy flak jacket he’d brought from the station. “Nice day off, Mitchell.”

  He shrugged. “Too bad we don’t get overtime.” But even though they made light of it, truth was, protecting Laney was his top priority. And that meant catching this killer as soon as possible.

  He knocked on the front door and had to bite back his surprise when a brown-haired man answered. Didn’t anyone in this town have a day job?

  Beside him, Laney stiffened ever so slightly. He glanced between her and the man, noting he was close to the height and build of last night’s attacker. But unfortunately that description would fit a quarter of the population of Sandy Bluff.

  “Ted Kincaide?” he asked. When the man nodded, he showed the warrant and ran through his speech about searching the premises with the dog.

  Kincaide’s face paled, but he stepped aside to allow Sarah and Marty inside. “What’s this about?”

  “Do you own a blue Ford F-150 truck, extended cab?” Ryan asked.

  The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his gaze flicked nervously between Ryan and the police cars parked on the street and in his driveway. Clearly he had something to hide. Did they have their suspect?

  “I used to,” he said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “But not anymore.”

  “What happened to it? Did you sell it?”

  He slowly shook his head. “It was stolen. A while ago.”

  Something about his evasive answer wasn’t adding up. If anyone had reported that truck missing, it would’ve been flagged when Ryan searched the system. “Why didn’t you report it?”

  “I...” Kincaide glanced into the house. Wiped his palms on his jeans.

  Ryan shifted to the right, positioning himself between Kincaide and Laney. The man had hardly given her a second glance, but his nervous behavior made him unpredictable.

  Just then his radio crackled. “Two-one-five, ten-sixty-eight in the garage.” Sarah’s voice. She had found something. “Ten-twenty-six. Copy?”

  For a second Kincaide’s wide eyes met Ryan’s, and terror flicked across his features. Then desperation.

  Ryan flung an arm backward to push Laney behind him at the same moment Kincaide pulled a handgun.

  He aimed it straight at Ryan’s face.

  THIRTEEN

  Ryan’s hand immediately went to the gun holstered in his waistband.

  “Don’t move,” Kincaide muttered through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what she found, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You’re holding an officer at gunpoint, Mr. Kincaide. That’s a felony in Indiana.”

  Kincaide swiped his palm against his pants again. “I don’t want to, Sergeant. But I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do.”

  He sensed Laney shifting behind him before she spoke. “What didn’t you do, Ted?”

  The man’s brows pulled together. “Who is she? Is she a police officer too? What do you want with me?”

  “Why don’t you lower the gun, and we’ll talk about it?” Ryan said soothingly.

  The gun wavered, but Kincaide clapped his other hand over the trembling first one. “Not till you tell me what I’m accused of.”

  With a loud whir, the garage door rolled open. Kincaide started at the sudden noise, the gun bobbling again as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Ryan seized his chance, taking advantage of the distraction to twist the weapon out of the man’s grasp. A second later and he had the cuffs out, securing Kincaide’s hands behind his back.

  “We’ll have to discuss it down at the station, because you’re under arrest.”

  “Officer McIntosh, what did you find?” Laney asked as they followed the sidewalk back to the driveway.

  Ryan pushed Kincaide in front of him until they reached the open garage. A single car stood on the left side of the stall.

  Sarah was in the back, where metal shelves stood against the wall connected with the house. “Marty alerted here,” she said, pointing to a pile of rags stuffed between two of the shelving units. Protruding from the top of the pile were a couple of metal pipes. From beneath, the corner of a bag jutted out. Sarah toed some of the rags aside to read the bag’s label. Ammonium nitrate fertilizer. “Components for a pipe bomb.”

  “Those aren’t mine!” Kincaide insisted. “I have no idea how they got here.”

  “Bag them,” Ryan said, ignoring him. “Call for backup if you need it. I’m taking this one to lockup. Laney...” He broke away, undecided for a moment. Taking her in the car with a potential killer ran against all his instincts but letting her leave his care wasn’t appealing either.

  “I’ll ride back with Officer McIntosh,” she said. At his look, she added, “I’ll be fine, Ryan.”

  * * *

  Laney let out a long breath as she watched Ryan stuff Ted Kincaide into the back of his patrol car. The man clearly had something to hide, but was he serial-killer material? Somehow she doubted it.

  But he had substances for explosives right here in the garage... Could he be the accomplice?

  She glanced at Sarah. “Want me to get the evidence bags from the car?”

  “That’d be great.” The other woman patted her dog, saying softly, “Good boy, Marty. You get extra treats tonight.”

  When Laney returned to the garage, Sarah had already pulled out the materials in question. Laney threw on a pair of gloves and helped record and bag the rags and containers.

  As they worked, Sarah said, “So...it’s totally not my business—” she flashed Laney a smile “—but what’s going on between you and Mitchell?”

  Heat crept into her cheeks. Was the attraction she kept fighting so obvious to everyone? “We’re old friends.”

  “Friends?” Sarah arched one of her blond eyebrows.

  “All right, we used to date in high school.” Even though Sarah appeared close to her age, Laney didn’t remember her from school. Why was she telling her this? Probably because the woman managed to seem both kind and trustworthy at the same time, and Laney had no one else to confide in. Maybe it was the uniform. “I take it you didn’t grow up here.”

  “No, I lived with my mom up the road in Jasper. Moved back here because of some family stuff. Anyway, rumors were flying around the department after Chief Mitchell called you, but I didn’t pay attention to them. People like to gossip, you know? Especially in a small town. But—” she shot Laney a conspiratorial look “—now that I’ve seen you two together, I’m inclined
to believe them.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, because I’m heading home in a few days. As soon as we wrap up this case.” Laney finished labeling the exterior of the bag she’d just sealed.

  Sarah stood and began placing the bags into a plastic bin. “Hopefully this evidence will be what you need.”

  “I hope so.” Laney added hers to the collection.

  “It’s a shame, though,” Sarah said as she and Laney carried the bin to the SUV. Marty trotted along behind them on his leash. “Mitchell’s a great guy. Team player, smart, considerate, always has your back. His family’s been through the wringer.”

  Laney paused at the back of the SUV, propping the bin on her knee as Sarah lifted the hatchback. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a thing for him.”

  “Oh, no.” Sarah flashed her left hand, where a large, shiny diamond sparkled on her fourth finger. “I mean, I did once. We even went out on a date, but we weren’t meant for each other. Then I met Rick...” Her eyes went dreamy for a moment, and Laney had to cough to cover up how she nearly choked. It was like being trapped in a romance movie. Did people actually get to live out that kind of perpetual happiness?

  When she quit coughing, Sarah added, “Anyway, it’s pretty clear to me he’s only ever had eyes for one woman. Just sayin’.”

  “Umm, thanks. I guess?” Laney wedged the bin into the back of the SUV next to Marty’s crate, then climbed into the front seat to wait while Sarah loaded the dog. She’d have to be more careful how she acted around Ryan at the station. Come to think of it, she needed to be more careful how she acted around him everywhere. It was far too easy to slip back into couple mode with him.

  A picture flew into her mind of cuddling next to him on a couch—maybe the one in her apartment back home—watching a scary movie and eating popcorn, their fingers brushing against each other in the bowl. The thought seemed glorious and terrifying at the same time, and she was relieved when Sarah slid in behind the wheel and cranked the engine.

  * * *

  By the time she and Sarah reached police headquarters, Ryan was already closeted in an interrogation room with Ted Kincaide. Laney slipped into the viewing room and joined Chief Mitchell and the technician to watch the proceedings.

  “Has he confessed to anything?” she asked Jim.

  “No. He claims he never reported the stolen truck because he’d been driving it illegally, without renewing the plates, and didn’t want to get caught. And he insists the bomb materials were planted.”

  She crinkled her brow. “By whom?”

  Jim gestured toward the one-way window. Kincaide sat with cuffed hands on the metal tabletop, and Ryan paced back and forth opposite him.

  “Okay, let’s get this straight.” Ryan stopped, braced both hands on the table and stared at Kincaide with a fierce expression Laney was glad she’d never been on the receiving end of. “You didn’t put those chemicals in your garage? Or make any homemade explosives?”

  “Please, you gotta believe me,” Kincaide whined. “I failed chemistry class in high school. I don’t know the first thing about bombs. And I didn’t steal my own truck neither.”

  “Then who do you think did do it?”

  “My ex-wife’s brother. That man is scary.” His eyes rounded as if to emphasize his point. “And Kathleen is obsessed with taking care of him. It’s one reason we split. You heard of helicopter parents? She’s a helicopter sister. I mean, I get it that they were abused as kids and all and she had to protect him growing up, but come on. He’s an adult. She’s gotta let him live his own life.”

  Ryan made a show of jotting notes down on a notepad, but it wasn’t necessary. The technician was already busy pulling up marriage and divorce records for Ted Kincaide. “What’s the brother’s name?”

  “Brown. Lawrence Brown.”

  Laney’s insides went cold. On the other side of the two-way mirror, Ryan stiffened—subtle, but noticeable to her.

  “Let’s take a breather, Mr. Kincaide,” he said. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  A moment later, Ryan stepped into the back room and leaned against the closed door, his gaze meeting Laney’s. “I knew it. I knew Brown was involved.” He balled one of his hands into a fist. “What else do we have on Kincaide?”

  “Ted Kincaide has been married twice,” the tech answered. “Once to Heather Morris in 1997. They divorced after eight years. He married Kathleen Brown in 2013. The divorce was filed in 2017.” She tapped away at the keys for a minute. “Kathleen has a brother named Lawrence.”

  Ryan nodded, then glanced at Laney. “What did you guys find in the garage?”

  Laney rattled off the list of components. “The fertilizer bag was nearly empty.”

  “It’s got to be Brown. Maybe the sister is the one helping him.”

  Jim Mitchell held up a hand. “Hold on, Sergeant. This man might be trying to shift the blame onto someone else. You’ve got to follow all the evidence, not just whatever confirms your own suspicions. Do things by the book, got it?”

  Clapping his father on the arm, he said, “Of course, Chief. I will.” He pointed at Ted Kincaide. “You can deal with him.”

  Laney followed him out of the room and back to his desk. She pulled up a rolling chair as he sat, placing both hands on top of his head and staring at the corkboard where the victims’ pictures hung.

  “So someone, possibly Kathleen Kincaide or Lawrence Brown, stole Kincaide’s truck and planted the bomb evidence.”

  Ryan nodded. “Unless Kincaide is lying...but I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “And that leaves the sister as a potential accomplice, maybe the one who threatened me at the airport. Unless Kincaide is the accomplice?”

  “Kathleen makes more sense, if we believe her overprotective nature. Her brother turned serial killer, so she framed Ronald Wilson. When the one set of remains was discovered that could prove Wilson innocent, she panicked and threatened you. You didn’t leave, so she had Lawrence plant the bomb in your suitcase and then try to abduct you.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. But then why are they still after me? We already have the remains. We know Wilson was framed. Why not pick up and run?”

  Ryan didn’t answer for a long moment. When he turned back to her, worry crinkled his forehead. “Laney, is there any other connection you could have to Brown? Anything else you remember about Jenna’s disappearance? There’s got to be something else we’re missing.”

  “A reason he wants me for his next victim.” She pressed clammy fingers to her throat, drawing in a slow breath. “What about his history with my mother? Maybe he blames me for the break-up or wants revenge on her.”

  “And when he recognized your name at the airport, he saw his chance?”

  She nodded, but it felt...flimsy. “I suppose. But ten years later? And why a bomb? How a bomb, with no previous warning?” The alternative—that she’d been his intended victim that day he’d killed Jenna—she couldn’t say out loud. Not unless she was willing to discuss why Jenna had gone out alone. A shiver tickled down her spine.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t make much sense.” Ryan squeezed her hand, pain edging his dark eyes. “Do you want to go back to your lab? I mean, wouldn’t it be easier for you to help from there? It’d certainly be safer.”

  She shook her head. Pointed at the pictures on the corkboard, at Jenna’s lovely white smile. “I’m going to see this through to the end. For them. Besides, I’m safer here with you than alone there, where he could track me down.”

  “All right.” He pressed his lips together but nodded, and her heart lightened at the way the pain had vanished from his eyes. Instead, she found respect reflecting in them. And something else, something very much like happiness.

  Once again, she found herself wishing she could turn back the clock and start again with him, to go back to those days when life was simple
and all that mattered was the next math test and what they would do over the weekend.

  A smile played on his lips, and his eyes crinkled. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like it’s homecoming and you’re waiting for me to ask you to the dance.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She straightened in her chair, suddenly fascinated by her fingernails. “That wasn’t at all what I... We have work to do. What’s next?”

  “Today?” He glanced at the clock on the wall, which read nearly half past four o’clock. Where had the day gone? “We head to the Dairy Queen.”

  “Why? Does Kathleen Kincaide work there?”

  “No. Because I want a Peanut Buster Parfait, and it’s my day off.” He winked at her, setting off a little flurry of butterflies in her stomach. Somehow his boyish charm had matured right along with him, and she found him just as attractive as ever. No, even more so.

  Probably she should try to keep things neutral and ask to go back to his parents’ house. But friends got ice cream together, didn’t they?

  * * *

  Ryan couldn’t stop stealing glances at Laney as they sat across from each other at a picnic table outside the Dairy Queen. She seemed to grow more beautiful every day she was here, and from the wistful way she’d been watching him earlier, she shared his sense of attraction.

  Lord, what’s the plan here? Why was she back in his life if she was only going to leave? Would she ever consider staying? Or...he’d stayed here to be near his parents, but enough years had passed since Jenna’s death, he could move. Get a job out in DC.

  But more importantly, if he could somehow convince her to give him a chance, would he want her to?