Silent Graves (8 page)

 She heard his steps coming closer.

“Hello, beautiful I’m home.” He spoke from the other side of the door.

His voice, the one that used to tempt her to stay in bed all afternoon, now riddled her body with chilled tremors that fired through her being. With them, came the clarity that she was still naked.

“Hope you didn’t miss—”

His speech was clipped. Had it always been that way?

Images flashed in her mind, rapid-fire, like the shutter on a paparazzi’s camera. He had been her lover. She had risked her marriage on this man, and now she faced the possibility of losing so much more than that to him. He had always had such a delicate touch, the way his hands would trace over her body, admiring every inch.

The vision crashed with the recollection of the intensity that boiled beneath his skin, making his body feel as if it quivered with nervous energy. The signs had been there all along. There was a buried hunger that singed through his fingertips and seemed to propel him to ravage her, as a starving man would a plate of food. This used to make her crave him.

“I’m here. No more waiting.” He pushed the door open with a foot. He was lifting his shirt over his head as he came into the room.

No! No!

The words wouldn’t give birth audibly but instead ricocheted in her head, a relentless nightmare. He was going to defile her again, further exceed her physical tolerance. The stickiness between her legs was more than sexual fluids. Blood smeared her thighs.

“Don’t.” She struggled so hard to even get that one word to form. Tears stung her eyes. A headache pounded in the back of her skull.

He kept advancing toward her, his eyes not on her face but on her naked body. He tapped his thighs and then worked at unbuckling his belt. “I have a surprise for you, but first—”

She screamed in silence.

Chapter 13

The cruiser pulled down a gravel road and kicked dust up in its wake. Jack followed closely, and the dirt cloud coated the black hood a charcoal gray while stones pelted the underside of the SUV.

“It’s always in the middle of nowhere,” I said, thinking back to the horrifying case in Salt Lick, Kentucky, of eleven graves and ten bodies. With that, came the remembrance of the tight underground passageways, although, those were never far from mind.

No one commented on my observation, instead, we traveled in silence. I believe each of us was contemplating what awaited us. With the thought, I was thankful Jack couldn’t read minds. He chose, then, to glance over at me, making me question my assumption. Maybe he could.

The cruiser pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse. It had a dilapidated front porch which didn’t appear sound enough for a toddler to walk across, let alone support the weight of an adult. The roof bowed in the middle, sagging, as if burdened by the passage of time. The barn was painted a bright red, a gold star mounted where its front peak formed a triangle. It was in better shape than the house.

The cruiser pulled to a stop. Detective Hanes and the officer met up with us halfway between the two vehicles.

“We’ve got to go the rest of the way on foot.” Hanes gestured with a pointed finger to a place beyond the barn.

There was a wooded patch to the far left, but most of it was open field.

“It’s not too far, closer to the river. I’m going to let the homeowner know we’re here.”

We waited for Hanes who returned in a couple of minutes. The officer spent the time studying us. His eyes squinted in the sunlight, causing his forehead to wrinkle.

“Are there any other houses nearby?” Jack asked Hanes.

It was an interesting question. I couldn’t remember passing one for miles.

“Well, there are a lot of houses along the river, and it runs for miles. It wouldn’t be practical to knock on all the houses along the river if you had that in mind. Rideout’s not even certain on TOD at this point, and we can’t pinpoint where the body entered the river.” Hanes took a few steps in the direction he had pointed to earlier.

We followed along behind him. The walk took about fifteen minutes from the house.

“What was the homeowner doing out here?” I asked, figuring it was a viable question.

The officer turned around and walked backward as he spoke. “She said that she walks her property regularly. Something about clearing her mind.”

“She happened upon it?” I heard the skepticism in my own voice. The officer didn’t miss it.

“Mrs. Phillips is a sixty-one-year-old woman. Do you figure she’s involved with this?”

I noticed the sideward glance from the rest of the team.

Zachery’s eyes read,
oh, you’ve gone and done it now.

“I never said she was, but it needs to be explained.”

The officer stopped walking. “It needs to be explained why an individual would go for a walk on their own property?” He shot a look at Jack.

“Again, I never said that.”

If this guy wanted to get into a dick-measuring contest, I was game. I went through the academy, through the training. I had the badge of a special agent of the FBI. I gave his uniform a once-over.

“You think because you’re the FBI you can question anything and everything?”

“I thought you wanted us here.” I raised my eyebrows. “I thought it was you who pushed for us to come and help find these women.”

“A little too late for this one.”

The hairs rose on the back of my neck. “Surely you can’t hold the FBI responsible when officers didn’t do their job and report the case of the missing women years ago.” I wasn’t even referring to the victims found along I-95.

His cheeks flamed a bright red, and he ground his teeth.

“Next time you feel the need to question everything we do, think about it.” I brushed past him to Hanes. “We almost there?”

“Right here actually.” Hanes drew an imaginary circle with his finger to take in a portion of the field. “She was lying on her back here.” He pulled a photograph from a folder he carried and extended it to me. “We have everything at PD. We can go over it later.”

In the photograph, the remains of Nina Harris appeared like a page from horror fiction. Despite the gravity that death carried, her bloated features and coloring had her resembling something alien, not human. It was tragic how in death our dignity was stripped and laid bare. We became nothing more than a travel case for a soul.

Before photos had shown Nina Harris as a beautiful woman, fit, with a seductive glint in her eye that fed the camera. In this picture, as she had been in the morgue, Nina’s appeal had been stolen.

Knowing that we stood where she had come to rest, the area had a tangible quality to it. I was a relatively new FBI agent, but, being around the burial sites in Salt Lick and at crime scenes elsewhere, I was beginning to realize there was a common feel to the places where people had lost their lives. While it was true Nina Harris didn’t have her life taken here, there was that feel in the air.

Zachery walked around the area where the body had been found. His eyes took in everything, including, I figured, each blade of grass.

“Her wedding ring was on her finger before the landowner took it off, along with part of the finger,” Hanes said.

My stomach tightened but didn’t toss. Blame that on Salt Lick as well. It had toughened me up from the start.

“The killer likes isolation.” Zachery spoke, his eyes not focused on any of us. “He’s ashamed by what he does and that’s why he buried her. She wasn’t supposed to be found, but he might be happy to be stopped.”

“You can tell all that from staring at the ground?” Detective Hanes shifted his weight to the left.

Zachery still didn’t make eye contact. “He buried her with her ring. The three victims from the highway weren’t wearing their wedding bands.” He glanced up at us.

“With the three, original homicides, the unsub stripped them of their commitment in life,” Paige added.

“He didn’t feel they lived up to it or deserved it. Maybe they were cheating wives?” I stepped closer to Zachery. “All the victims were beautiful women with busy husbands, even the highway victims.”

Revelation lit in Zachery’s eyes. “The first three victims were found naked, without their rings, and there wasn’t evidence that they had been buried. They were just found along the highway. We’re only after one unsub at this point. The original is no longer in charge, possibly not even alive. I bet that he is motivated to continue because of him though.”

“Smart.” Jack nodded and added, “and seems to pick them out and get close to them. He takes his time with them as evidenced by what they undergo.”

“Rape and murder doesn’t come naturally to him. He feels a compulsion.” Paige bobbed her head. “Probably because of what you just mentioned Zachery, but the question of why remains.” I nodded in agreement. “Maybe the original guy is alive and has more influence than we originally thought, leans toward it being his child.”

“The original killer is now the spectator. We estimated him to be in his seventies. Maybe he’s involved and picks the women, like we mentioned before, but our unsub carries it out?”

“Whatever the case, he’s getting more daring. He’s going after wives of successful businessmen.”

Detective Hanes’s attention went between us as we discussed the mental state of the man we hunted.

“He has a low regard for women, no doubt learned at an early age. Despite feeling regret, as evidenced by the ring and burying of the body, he leaves them naked, a state of disgrace,” Zachery said.

“He’s more ashamed for them than for his actions.” I verbalized the thought as it occurred to me.

Zachery’s eyes went from me to Jack. “It’s possible.”

“So, why here, why now, and why Nina Harris?”

Jack finally gave in and lit up a cigarette. A stream of white smoke ascended on his exhale. “It could be as simple as because he could, or it could be more complicated. He could like here because of the isolation. He’s able to keep the women, do as he wishes, and then dispose of the bodies.  Something’s definitely triggered this guy back into action. After the killings seemed to have stopped in two thousand,” Jack addressed the officer, “who was the next woman reported as missing that fits the profile?”

“Leslie Keyes, two thousand and five.”

Everyone stared at him. Jack took another puff, his eyes never leaving the officer. “Six years ago. Was the report filed in Dumfries?”

The officer shook his head. “Prince William County PD.”

“When the husband was interviewed, what did he say?”

Hanes flushed. “We didn’t interview anyone. It was a missing persons report. You know how they are. They get filed, and they’re not actively investigated unless there’s evidence of foul play.”

“Did the husband have a life insurance policy on his wife, or would he benefit in any other way from her disappearance and pronouncement of death?” Jack’s eyes fixed on the detective, his suction tight around the cigarette.

“She hasn’t been pronounced and wouldn’t there be better ways to go about it? A faster route if monetary benefit were the goal?”

Jack looked out over the field. His jaw muscles went as taut as violin strings. He took a dramatic inhale from the cigarette. “My question was, would he benefit?”

“I…we…don’t know.”

“It might be a good thing for us to find out then.” Jack turned to the team. “We also need to speak with Nina’s husband.”

The officer shook his head again. Hanes was avoiding eye contact with all of us.

Jack continued. “Our unsub started up again with Leslie Keyes six years ago. Brandon and I will start with Keyes.  While we’re doing that Paige, I want you and Zach to visit Harris’s husband.”

“At one point, you wanted us to visit the wife of the first suspect in the Chase investigation,” Paige said.

“We’ll leave her ’til a little later.” Jack directed his next words to the detective. “When Mr. Harris was told about his wife, how did he take it?”

“Like one would imagine. He was distraught but relieved to have some closure. It has been months since Nina went missing.”

Jack studied the detective’s face and nodded. “What is his line of work?”

“He…” Hanes turned to the officer.

The officer picked up. “He’s not successful like the husbands of the two recent victims. He’s not the owner of some law firm or a telecommunications giant.”

Jack flicked ash from his cigarette to the grass. “To the point kid.”

I swallowed the smile that would have enveloped my face given a chance. I liked hearing someone else get the nickname.

“He’s a satellite dish installer. He doesn’t work for Trinity if you’re thinking they’re connected that way.”

“There goes the thought that all the husbands are busy and important,” I said.

“Hmm.” Jack turned to me. I thought that was one in my favor, and then his words confirmed it. “Fisher’s right. We’ll meet back at PWPD to discuss what we found out once we’re finished with the husbands.” He addressed the detective and the officer. “Make sure to have a crime board set up laying out the missing women, starting with Leslie Keyes from two thousand five. Start with noting their husband’s line of work and their alibis for the day their wives went missing. Include anything and everything we know.”