The Haunted Bones (6 page)

But this morning I could have stayed in bed.
Why? Because we were in the office of Captain Drew Vale, my old
boss. After reviewing the file, Jewels had been sure she found
something that could actually break the old Birch case open and set
the truth free. Her words, not mine.

I sat in the chair watching Vale, trying to
read his responses. But the thing about Vale was no one could read
him. The man was a robot. No emotion. Not even an eye-brow twitch.
Nope. He didn't move. And he was cool. Long hair in a ponytail,
always a sharp dresser on a police captain's salary (the rumor was
his wife was loaded.) The only movement was flipping papers.

After what felt like seven hours but was in
reality only a half hour, he set the folder on his desk and looked
at me. "That's one hell of a talent."

"Sir?"

"Photoshopping those pictures to match the
crime scene shots."

I felt as if I'd just been punched in the
face. "Sir…I didn't Photoshop anything. And I'd never seen those
photos until Julie brought them over."

"Yes. Lt. Brenner and I will be having a
refresher course in precinct protocol. You never take case files
out of the building."

"But it was just Devan—"

"Who is no longer a part of this squad."
Vale leaned forward. "I don't know what kind of bullshit the two of
you are trying to pull, but falsifying these shots like this…" He
looked disgusted. "These are things better printed in a local
gossip rag or psychic magazine than used as evidence against a
suspect."

"But sir," Julie said as she sat forward and
braced her hands on the armrests of the chair. "When this case
happened, Devan was still in a coma. The whole thing occurred and
was closed in less than three months. He didn't even know the case
existed until he was hired to take those pictures. The ones we
pinned to the crime scene photos aren't even the one that caught
his attention."

Vale looked at her under his brow for a few
seconds before he opened the file again and pulled out the picture
of the woman and the shelves. "You mean this one."

"That one," she said, and pointed. "And just
the other night, someone hacked into Devan's computer and server to
try and delete all of these pictures."

That got the captain's attention. "Someone
hacked your computer?"

I cleared my throat and went back over
everything that happened that night while Julie was there, and then
I went over what my server person did to successfully shut this guy
out.

"You have logs of this?"

"Yes, we do. He wasn't able to backtrack the
hacker. But they were specifically targeting those photos." If
Julie noticed I was referring to Pink as a "he," she didn't flinch
or blink.

"These photos were marked as specifically
taken of this old bar?"

"Yes sir." I licked my lips. "The only
people who knew I was there taking shots were the guy at the bank,
and this woman who showed up asking about the bar."

"What woman?"

I told him about Mary Smith and how I'd
given her my card.

"And you didn't find her suspicious?"

"Why would I? From what I've discovered, the
bar was once a fixture in the neighborhood."

"You didn't get anything else from her but
her name?"

"No sir. Other than she drove a nice
Mercedes." And then I noticed something. "Sir, earlier you referred
to Randall Cahan as a suspect, not an innocent man."

Vale sat back with the folder in his hand.
He eyed the two of us and the tension behind his eyes lessened
enough that his shoulders relaxed. "Cahan's been a suspect ever
since the murders happened. Too many discrepancies about his story
and the way the bodies were positioned. I could go over those with
you, but given the pictures in your…art…you probably already see
them."

I had. "I think the difference in their
builds is a huge discrepancy. In the notes, the detective said the
younger girl had been killed in the bathroom upstairs with a pair
of scissors, the killer behind her. Justin Birch was a big
man—standing close to six–foot-three. He would have a hell of a
time just standing in that bathroom by himself. Him holding someone
in front of him would make it impossible for either of them to
move." I slid forward and stood so I could take the folder from
Vale and sift through the shots. "Here…" I pulled out three
pictures. Two were of the crime scene, the third one I'd taken.
"Her body was slumped over the sink where she died after he slit
her throat with a razor not scissors. And here is where the blood
spattered over the mirror and wall of the bathroom. If Justin Birch
was holding her from behind—if anyone had and then cut her throat
from left to right as stated by the coroner, then his entire
forearm would have been sprayed with arterial blood."

Vale frowned at the photos and then pulled a
picture of Justin Birch's body before it was covered. "There's no
blood."

"Exactly. And the only reason I thought of
that was because in my photo…" I turned it around for him to see it
"…there is a guy in the bathroom with her, but it's her father. His
image is shadowed instead of white, which Julie and I believe is a
signal that he's still living. He's shorter and smaller and able to
hold her so he can watch. He used that mirror in the bathroom to
watch himself kill his own child."

Julie cleared her throat.
"We still have to
prove
it was Cahan and not Birch. We know Dev's photos aren't
admissible, but are they enough to reopen and take a closer look?
Maybe this Mary Smith is linked to Cahan? Maybe she knew the truth
and when she saw Devan in the building and the ghosts she panicked
and hacked his computer?"

Vale thumbed through a few of the pages.
"That's a lot of maybes. But I do like them—as unconventionally
attained as they were. Can you two go back out to the building and
take a closer look, using both of these sets of photos as
references?"

I smiled. It was the first genuine one I'd
had a in a while. "I'd love to."

"Just let
her
collect anything you
find. Chain of evidence." He pulled up the shot of the woman, the
one that didn't match up to the crime scene shots, and pointed to
it. "So what is this one?"

"I don't know. It was taken of the shelving
in the main part of that shop."

"Witness?"

I really didn't have an answer. Vale
shrugged and slipped the photo into his desk. "Maybe I'll take a
look at it later and see if there's anything in it that inspires
me. You two get over there and look. This is the only time you're
going to get on it, got it?"

Julie grabbed the file and we started out
the door.

"McNally."

I turned to look at him.

"Don't get your hopes up, okay? You know the
reason I can't let you back on the squad."

Yeah…I knew, and nodded.

"You still having them?"

He meant the blackouts. "Yes. Not as
frequent or as long, but I still have them, so no worries. I'll
just be there for Julie."

Captain Vale nodded and looked down. I had
been dismissed. And it was the closest thing to a compliment I'd
ever received from the man.

So sad.

Eight

She hated being a stalker. Or even imagining
or categorizing herself like that. But with no news from Auggie as
to whether Black Angel would see her, much less take the job, she
was obliged to keep an eye on McNally. She hoped there would be
another opportunity to hack into the server, but Auggie had
recommended against it. They were probably forewarned against her
now and if she attempted it, there was the possibility they would
find her.

So she resorted to renting a
car and tailing him. Seeing him enter the precinct on
3
^rd
Street downtown unnerved her to no end. She had to physically
grip the steering wheel to prevent herself from ditching the car
and running the hell away. He used to be a cop, she reasoned to
herself. So it was natural he might visit them sometimes. Or the
more plausible story was he was there to report someone hacking his
computer last night.

She had used that same ID and route ten
times before to break into bank accounts and no one had caught her
yet. Still…might be safe to ditch it and buy another one. Great.
Another thing to owe Auggie for.

McNally was in the building for about an
hour before he stepped back out, followed by a small, tough-looking
woman with brown hair. Mary hadn't seen her before and wondered if
the woman was a cop or a friend. She grabbed her phone from the
seat and snapped a few pictures before the two of them piled into
his car and drove off with a black and white police car right
behind them.

She pulled out and stayed a
few cars back. Her fear and temper rose again when she turned down
the street where
The Alley Haunt
was. She drove by as McNally parked in front of it
with the black-and-white behind him.

Shit! Why was he back there? Why was there
police?

Mary had another white-knuckle grip on the
wheel as she turned the corner ahead and doubled back. She parked a
block down so the cop wouldn't see her twice, and sat watching the
front of the old bar. The cop didn't leave his car but McNally and
the woman—definitely a cop—went inside.

Phone in hand, Mary thumbed up her contacts
and hit dial.

"A. G. Smith."

"Auggie, he's back in that building and he's
got cops with him."

There was a pause. "Who are you talking
about? The photographer?"

"Yeah."

"What building?"

It dawned on her she hadn't really confided
all the details to Auggie as to why she wanted this guy whacked and
the photos deleted. "Never mind. Let's just say it's getting more
serious. You get hold of Angel?"

"Yeah. Well his representative answered me.
Same old story, Mary. Angel is on hiatus until the present job is
completed. Sorry." He disconnected.

No! She threw her phone into the floorboard
of the passenger side. Dammit all! This was getting worse. What if
McNally took that picture to the cops—and this cop was in there
with him looking for how her mother showed up like that? What if
they decided to move the shelf or, worse, the mirror?

What if….

No, no, no, no! After everything she'd
worked toward, she was not going to let some former cop destroy it
all for her. She was going to get rid of him, and the female cop if
need be. She didn't need some mysterious hit person with a dumb-ass
name. She'd offed six husbands in her life, all of them ruled
accidental deaths or natural causes. All she had to do was find out
what he was most allergic to, watch his actions, and find out where
he lived.

With a smile on her face, she reached over
and picked up her phone. After browsing her contacts, she found one
and hit dial.

"Health Care Benefits, records office."

"Hello? Yes, is Mr. Tasmir Mahov still
working for you?"

"Yes, he is."

"Wonderful. Maybe I speak to him? Tell
him…MS needs some advice."

Nine

After several hours of searching the former
bar with gloves and bags, I stepped outside to stretch. My old
habit, before I was shot, was to smoke a cigarette. But that was a
habit I was happy to put aside. In the black–and-white parked
outside the business, the officer inside was busy reading the
paper. He saw me, nodded, and carried on.

The problem we faced was time. That and
about a million hands inside the building after it was cleared. The
blood stains were little more than faded brown spots. If there was
anything at all still here, it was corrupted beyond use. Truth
was…I didn't really know what I was looking for.

Jewels stepped outside to join me, gloves
on. "Hey…you still got that odd picture with you?"

"Yeah, it's on my tablet."

"Come back in. I need to see it."

I followed her in and grabbed the tablet
from my bag on the bar. After the image was pulled up, she took the
device and moved to the other side of the room and held the tablet
up as if to do a side-by-side. "Come look at this."

I joined her and looked. "Are you seeing
something I'm not?"

"Well, after studying the folder, I know
this woman doesn't have anything to do with the two women killed.
She doesn't look like either of them. So, who is she and why is she
showing up there?" She pointed to the shelf.

Jewels was right. This was the odd picture
out. We had no idea who this woman was or why she was there. And if
we were going to believe the pictures I took were valid, we had to
go on the assumption there was a reason. I moved behind the bar.
"Am I where she is?"

"A little to your right…there. Now you're
exactly where she is."

In front of me was a series of tall shelves.
I was pretty sure this is where the bartender kept the bottles of
liquor for the customers to choose from. There were twelve shelves
in all, starting from the ceiling down. Near my waist was a wrap
around shelf on top of several drawers—or, rather, their framework.
The drawers were long gone.

I knelt down and looked through the
shelving, and to my surprise, saw wallpaper. "There's no backing to
the lower half. Just wall." I reached through the opening and
pressed my hand against the wall and smacked my face against the
shelf frame as the drywall caved in.

"You okay?" Jewels came around the bar and
knelt down. "Ooh… your hand went through."

"Uh huh." I pulled it out and examined it
for bugs. I hated bugs. I hated all bugs. Not a real outdoorsy
kinda guy. "I touched cold brick behind it. Or cinder block—if this
is a firewall."

"We should punch that out to see." She
started to reach through the shelf frame but her arm wasn't long
enough.