Buried: A Bone Secrets Novel Part 27

"Hold up. We'll all go."

The three men marched through the bed-and-breakfast as Michael fought the urge to sprint ahead. Why hadn't he checked the alley?

Spencer pointed at the back door to the yard. "That been unlocked all day?" He directed the question to Chuck, who nodded.

If it hadn't been in the high nineties still, the backyard would have been inviting. The sun had nearly set, but the sky was still very light. Michael focused on the wood gate. It was open slightly into the alley. The hedge on either side had to be close to ten feet tall.

"Sucker is tall," muttered Hove, eyeing the hedge.

Spencer pushed the gate open, and the three men stepped into the empty alley.

Michael's heart plummeted. What had he been expecting?

The cops split up, one heading left and one to the right. Michael tailed Spencer. The alley was surprisingly clean. The other properties bordered the alley with wooden fences, hedges, or nothing. A few garbage cans stood in the alley but nothing else. Spencer peeked through a few gates and then turned around to head back to the bed-and-breakfast. Hove was doing the same from the opposite end.

"Pretty clean for an alley," said Spencer. "Won't find this in a big city."

Chris stepped through the gate into the alley. He nodded at Michael and scanned the alley both ways.

"Where's Brian?" Michael asked as the men regrouped at the gate.

"Got distracted by the bird feeders." Chris gestured behind him.

"There's some trash down that way." Hove gestured behind him. "But nothing else caught my eye."

"Trash?" Michael frowned. "Our end of the alley was clean enough to eat from." His legs started moving toward Hove's end. Up ahead, he could see some plastic cellophane litter next to the hedge. He drew closer and couldn't help but smile.

Some kid somewhere is gonna be upset.

The packages hadn't even been opened. At least a dozen Twinkies littered the concrete. He snorted. As a kid, that would have killed him to see all those go to waste. Too bad- Michael whirled around when Chris violently retched into the hedge.

Mason barreled into the office. The traffic had finally let up. He'd pa.s.sed a nasty-looking accident between a semi and one of those tiny Smart cars. The site had been crawling with cops and emergency personnel, so he hadn't stopped, but he'd done as much rubber-necking as all the other vehicles, adding to the slowdown. It was one thing to rubberneck at a simple fender-bender on the side of the freeway, but this was a sight he hadn't seen before.

The d.a.m.ned fairy-sized car was under the semi.

It appeared the truck had jackknifed, and the car had zoomed directly into the side of the trailer. And stuck underneath. It was about half of its original height now.

Mason didn't want to think about the driver.

He took off his hat, hooked it on its k.n.o.b, and nodded at Ray, who was flipping through a stack of paperwork on his desk. Ray wore one of his two hundred polo shirts-his summer uniform. This one was a girly colored lavender. Mason didn't bother teasing him. Ray didn't give a s.h.i.t about the color, and he easily pulled off the look. Mason didn't know c.r.a.p about fashion, but somehow, Ray always looked like he'd stepped out of a men's health magazine.

Mason always felt like he'd stepped out of AARP magazine.

"Took you long enough," Ray greeted.

"Would you believe it was an accident like we'd never seen before?"

"Bulls.h.i.t. Between you and me, we've seen everything"

"I shoulda took a picture. This was something else. A Smart car and a semi."

"Really?" Ray's brows shot up. "That's new."

"Told ya. What's going on?"

"I just finished up with the ME's office. Dr. Campbell got another positive ID on a pit body from her dental records. One of the women."

"Hooker?"

"No. This one walked the straight and narrow as far as I can tell."

Something odd in Ray's voice put Mason on high alert. "What?"

Ray reviewed his notes and cleared his throat. "Katy Darby. Reported missing fifteen years ago at age twenty-seven. Grew up and lived in Salem."

Mason's gut tightened. Ray's voice was off.

"She was into politics. Belonged to a half dozen political groups and was a paid employee for several of Senator Brody's reelection campaigns."

"She worked with the senator? For how long?"

"I'm trying to find out. People come and go during election time. I have a call in to his chief of staff to see what kinds of records they have. But employment records list Senator Brody as one of her employers for three different years in the 1990s. She also worked for two other members of congress from the state."

"Democrat or Republican?"

Ray looked up in disgust.

"I'm joking! Christ. Lighten up."

Ray rubbed at his nose. "f.u.c.king long day. I've got calls to the other congressmen to see what they know about her. Only one of them is still in office. The other owns a Ford dealership in Medford now."

"Let me guess. That one was Republican."

Ray's gaze rolled toward the ceiling. "Anyway, she simply vanished off the face of the earth. Like the other ones. But she had more publicity and people looking for her. Her boyfriend was questioned pretty hard, but he had proof he was out of the state at the time of her disappearance. Her mother said she never believed the boyfriend was involved. Katy left work one evening as normal and didn't return the next day. Her car was still in the lot. No one started to ask questions until the afternoon of the next day, when someone clued in that her car was still there. They'd figured she was sick and didn't call."

"Was she working for Senator Brody at that time?"

"Yep. It was deep in reelection time. Not that Brody ever had anyone seriously oppose him. That guy's always been pretty popular. I have to imagine his campaigns weren't too difficult."

Elected office held no appeal for Mason. There was no way he wanted to beg for his job in public. It took a special type of person to be a politician. Senator Brody did it well; he was likeable and appeared honest. Mason had no personal problem with the senator or his politics; he just didn't trust any politician. They couldn't do their job without compromising something.

Mason didn't compromise. His job was black and white.

He thought he did it pretty well.

"You have the senator's personal cell, right?" Mason asked.

Ray rocked back in his chair, his face blank. "Yeah. So do you."

"You call him?"

"h.e.l.l no. It's eleven p.m."

"Probably the best time to reach him." Mason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Ray looked mildly ill at the thought of disturbing the senator at home this late. Ray had a hardcore set of social rules. Late-night phone calls were high on the list.

Mason enjoyed pushing Ray to break as many of his uptight rules as possible. Last month, he'd convinced the man to leave his garbage can at the curb two extra days after pickup. It cost Mason ten dollars for the bet, but he'd enjoyed watching Ray squirm over what the neighbors might think.

"This is a murder investigation."

"Well, I want to read his previous statements on Katy Darby before I question him."

"Good plan. Get reading."

"That's what I was doing when you walked in and started distracting me."

"What did he say back then?"

"Great employee, deeply saddened, didn't know her outside of a working relationship, yada, yada, yada."

"Cooperative?"

"Very."

Mason leaned back in his squeaky desk chair. "We need to talk to him again. Soon. Where's Darby's boyfriend these days?"

"New Hampshire. Married with two kids."

That didn't help much.

"As a cold case, it's been reviewed four different times. Looks like they call the boyfriend and some co-workers, ask the usual questions, then re-file it. There's been nothing new added."

"And now we've got the body...well, the remains," Mason corrected. "Anything unusual from the ME? Cause of death?"

"Dr. Campbell told me this is one of the bodies that had a broken hyoid, so they strongly suspect strangulation."

"What'd they get back on the gun found at the kid's murder?"

"Chris Jacobs says it was probably his. Says it was left at his home. Which was burgled, of course."

"I want to talk to Jacobs."

"Get in line."

"I want him here. Tomorrow. And I want one of us talking with the senator within the next twenty-four hours, too. I've got a good feeling about Katy Darby."

Chris explained the significance of the Twinkies, and Michael felt acid burn in the back of his throat. There was no doubt who had Jamie now.

In the hands of a f.u.c.king-psycho-freak.

Where were they?

How were they going to find them? Hove and Spencer didn't have any leads pointing them to the tattooed man. Ghostman. That was a better name. The guy had been invisible for twenty years, silently tormenting the families of his victims.

Michael's phone vibrated. Detective Callahan. c.r.a.p. He'd forgotten to call Callahan back after his surprise meeting with Chris. Maybe the detective had good news?

"Callahan. You got some information, I hope?"

"Did you find Chris Jacobs?"

Michael studied his brother. He was sitting on the porch with Brian's head in his lap, the boy half asleep. "Yes, and I found a h.e.l.l of a lot more than that."

Michael shared Chris's story.

Callahan was stunned into a full five seconds of silence. "Where's the real Jacobs kid?" he finally asked.

"Dead. Daniel buried him. But Daniel goes by Chris now. It's his name."

It was getting easier for Michael to say. He was starting to think of his brother as Chris.

"Well, we've got an ID on one of the pit bodies who was a former employee of your father's. Katy Darby worked on a few of your father's reelection campaigns before she vanished. She doesn't fit the profile of the other victims. She seems to be squeaky clean."

Katy Darby?

"I remember the name," Michael said slowly, brain spinning. "I remember when she disappeared. My parents were pretty upset. They'd both liked her. I can remember my mother saying she was a very enthusiastic worker. I don't think anyone ever thought about her disappearance in conjunction with my brother."

"She's connected now. Looks like the same perpetrator who killed her killed those kids. That makes a double connection to your father."

"Chris said the Ghostman always threatened our family. He says he didn't hara.s.s the other kids in that way. Only him."

"Ghostman? You mean Mr. Tattoo?" Mason asked.

"Yep. That's what the kids called him."

"Formerly Gary Hinkes. We've got to figure out what name he's using now and what his connection is to your family."

"Christ. You don't think this is about The Senator's politics, do you? Don't tell me all these people have died because of the way he voted on a bill." Anger ricocheted through Michael's chest.

"I don't know why he has a hard-on for your family. I need to talk to your father again."

"That makes two of us."

"I was going to call him in the morning. You want to try reaching him tonight? We need to pull him in on this ASAP," said Mason.

"I'll call immediately. We need to figure out who the Ghostman is."

Michael ended the call, and Chris met his gaze. "It's linked to the senator?"

"I f.u.c.king hope not. But one of the bodies in the pit is a former campaign worker."