Waking the Dead (33 page)
The sheriff grunted. Began moving again. “Nearly two weeks since we hauled those bodies out of that cave and we still have a whole lot of nothing. I’m getting buried on the publicity surrounding this thing. What am I supposed to tell the press when they catch wind of this latest set of remains we found? That I’m following up a lead on the damn garbage bags? I need something solid.”
Although she could have pointed out just how much they’d put together in just a few days, Cait remained silent. She understood the frustration felt by the lead law enforcement officer who’d catch every piece of flack, whether from politicians or the media. “I tested three samples of paint this morning and more arrived while I was gone today. Since there are a limited number of suppliers, I’m confident I’ll find a match. And unlike garbage bags, paint is something that can’t be kept around for long periods of time.” Andrews looked a little more cheerful at the words. “It’d probably need to be reordered, especially if months or years transpired between kills.”
“You’re right. And if that turns out to be . . .”
The fax machine on the desk began to whir. Cait went still in the process of removing the sternum from the canvas bag, staring in the direction of the desk. Drecker had promised the lab would fax Recinos’s mother’s DNA profile when it was finished.
Andrews strode swiftly over to the machine, started picking up the pages as they spit out into the receiving plate.
Cait laid the bone on the newspaper and followed the sheriff to the desk. She flipped through the file folders she had in the plastic organizer on its corner until she found the one containing female C’s DNA profile. Opening it, she took the sheets from Andrews and laid the profiles side by side, leaning over to peruse them.
The other woman crowded by her side, although to Cait’s knowledge she had no scientific background, and the profiles were likely Greek to her. To Andrews’s credit, though, she didn’t prod, although impatience all but radiated off her.
Cait compared the profiles once. Twice. Again. Finally, she blew out a breath. Straightened.
“Looks like you’ve got something solid at last. These profiles match at seven markers.” She looked up, excitement spurting through her veins. “We can be reasonably certain that we’ve identified female C. She’s Marissa Recinos of Seattle, Washington.”
Chapter 15
Barb Haines’s carcass would take several more days to dry. He tested the screens covering the shed’s loft doors to be sure they were secure. The bits of rotting tissue that still adhered to the skeleton would attract insects if he wasn’t vigilant about keeping them away. The industrial-sized fan he had aimed at the bones would help dry them out more quickly, reduce the odor, and discourage any insects that might creep in.
He climbed the ladder down from the loft. Before slipping outside to cross the yard back to the house, he checked on his beetles. As always, their busyness enthralled him, but that piece of raccoon roadkill he’d prepared for them wouldn’t hold them for long. He had such a large colony that it took him hours every week to keep them in food. Sometimes he thought they were insatiable.
Sometimes he wondered the same thing about Sweetie.
The thought seemed a betrayal, and automatically he shook it off. Sweetie was the planner. The one who had all the ins and outs figured. But first there were only going to be five to kill. Then it was seven. With Barb Haines they were at eight.
And that made him ask himself whether Sweetie would ever really be satisfied. If the promise of a future together would ever really happen.
The thoughts made him angry with himself and ruined the joy he usually took in watching his bugs work. Now was a time for faith. For standing strong together as they outwitted the sheriff and her entire department. It wasn’t a time to start entertaining doubts.
Carrying his Maglite, he hurried to the door of the shed and carefully padlocked the structure behind him before continuing to the back door of the house, where he’d left a light on the porch.
Entering the kitchen, he paused to lock the door behind him before setting his flashlight on the counter. He continued through to the living room. And stopped dead in the doorway separating the two rooms when he saw who was standing inside the front door.
Not just inside the door, actually. Sweetie’s hand was on the doorknob to the basement door, twisting it this way and that, trying to get it open.
Which made him all the more glad that he’d remembered to lock it the last time he’d been down there. He hadn’t returned to it since he’d carried Barb Haines’s dead body up those stairs a couple nights ago.
“If you’re looking for me, I’ll hide in the bedroom.”
Sweetie jumped and whirled to face him. And his smile faded when he saw the expression on the face he loved so much.
“They’ve found another set of bones!”
He stilled, shock radiating through him. “What? That’s impossible.” He’d been so careful. Given the new spot so much thought. He’d weighted the bag down with stones. Tied the drawstring tight, then secured it again with a twisty before wedging it under larger rocks forming a lip along the lower side of the hot springs. “There must be some mistake.”
Sweetie’s voice was filled with bitterness. “There was a mistake all right, and
you
made it. Of all the lame-ass moves. What were you thinking?”
you
made it. Of all the lame-ass moves. What were you thinking?”
What the hell were you thinking, you dumbass?
His father had always accompanied the words with a cuff of the head that would have his ears ringing. He’d lie in bed all night nursing his bruises and plotting his revenge. A revenge that had been slow in coming, but had been immensely satisfying.
His father had always accompanied the words with a cuff of the head that would have his ears ringing. He’d lie in bed all night nursing his bruises and plotting his revenge. A revenge that had been slow in coming, but had been immensely satisfying.
“I was thinking you asked for my help,” he said stiffly, and headed back to the kitchen for a beer. He didn’t ask if Sweetie wanted one. Returned to the room where his lover still stood and tipped the bottle to his lips. “I was thinking that since the cave was out of the question I needed to find a new place as soon as possible.”
“I’m not blaming you.” But they both heard the lie in Sweetie’s words. “I just don’t understand. There were seven sets of bones in the caves, but I brought you eight. So this is the last one, right?” A dagger of pain sliced through him at the distrust in Sweetie’s eyes. “This is the last ‘surprise’ find?”
“Of course.” But his gaze slipped away. Not even Sweetie needed to know that he’d used that cave before the two of them had joined forces.
Barb Haines had only been dead two days. And regardless of what was said here, her remains wouldn’t be disposed of until it could be done right.
Respectfully.
Respectfully.
But clearly he’d have to give that disposal some thought. His last bright idea hadn’t worked out as well as he’d hoped.
“I didn’t show up at your place and demand to know why five wasn’t enough, did I?” The words burst out of him, surprising in their bitterness. “I didn’t push and pressure you about the decisions you’ve made, even though you varied from our original plan.”
Sweetie took a few steps toward him, before halting. “Now you’re mad at me. You don’t know what it’s been like. I’m worried all the time. Not about Andrews and her crew, but that consultant they brought in. That Fleming. She’s got more smarts that the entire sheriff’s outfit combined. I hear they have their own lab facility set up and everything. You know what that means? We can’t count on a backlog of cases at the state crime lab to hold up results. I’m telling you, the woman’s trouble.”
He found himself softening a little, but the earlier sting lingered. “They can do their tests and police work. It won’t matter. There’s nothing that can tie them to us. You worry too much.”
“Easy for you to say. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. It’s all I think about.” Sweetie’s smile was tremulous. “But this is it, right? There’s nothing more for them to find.”
“Nothing more,” he echoed reassuringly, but his mind was racing. He was going to have to give this last disposal a great deal of thought. Maybe he could get his hands on a wet suit and hide the bones in the river somewhere. Soakers wouldn’t find them there; it was too cold to swim in the McKenzie.
But there were fishermen on the river, he recalled in the next moment. With his luck, one would catch a hook on the bag and drag it to the surface.
“I just hope you haven’t brought them to our door.” Sweetie checked the time. “I’m going to be missed soon.”
“Maybe you’d better go.” For the first time he was anxious to see the end of his lover. A bitter sense of resentment bubbled up inside him. After all he’d done! All he’d sacrificed! Only to be treated no better than the old man had treated him really. By the one person he trusted more than anyone else in the world.
Sweetie looked at the door, then back to him. “I can’t leave if I think you’re upset with me. It’ll tear me up so I can’t think of anything else.”
“I’m not upset,” he lied. But the kiss his lover brushed over his lips failed to move him the way it usually did. And once Sweetie had gone, the emotions crashed and collided inside him like bumper cars at a carnival.
It had been their first fight. A sense of terror accompanied the thought. He didn’t want to live without Sweetie. For once, it seemed as though his life had meaning. A higher purpose. Perhaps he’d been too sensitive. Maybe Sweetie had just been looking for comfort.
But there had been no excuse for name-calling. He took a long swig from the beer. The comment still burned. And maybe he needed a little bit of comfort, too. A comfort Sweetie hadn’t offered.
A comfort he could find downstairs.
He didn’t give the thought too much consideration because if he did he’d feel bad about what he was doing. He just dug the key from his pocket. Crossed to the locked basement door and opened it.
Don’t think of it as a betrayal of Sweetie. He made his way to the cellar swiftly. It had nothing to do with his lover. Everything to do with a dark and insidious need that had begun growing with the first victim that had been brought to him.
His feet found their way swiftly, surely to the locked cabinet in the corner of his drawing room. Another key to open that. Then that lovely catch of breath as the door swung open. That giddy sense of anticipation as he looked at the rows of gleaming skulls lining the shelves.
So much care had been taken in their restoration. Jaws wired together. Teeth glued back in. Eye sockets drilled out. It was perfectly natural to feel . . . a bit possessive after putting all that effort into the process.
Unerringly his hands went to the skull on the second shelf, right in the middle. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a favorite. Sydney Schaefer. She’d been everything he could have wanted in a houseguest. Quiet and unassuming. And she’d pled so prettily at the end.
He set the skull and cloth on the desk. Undid his pants and covered himself with the soft cloth before inserting himself into the eye cavity. And gave a low moan. He held the cranium steady in both hands as he began to thrust.
Forget the fight that had been so upsetting. Forget the doubts. The worries about the next disposal site. This made it all worthwhile.
And when he came, it was Sweetie’s name on his lips.
It was after midnight before the lone figure exited the morgue and headed to her rented SUV parked under the security light. Zach noted the exact moment Cait caught sight of him sitting on the hood of her vehicle. Saw the tension shoot into her muscles. And then watched her body ease again when she recognized him.
“You lost?” she asked when she got close enough.
“I was at the store cleaning gear. Figured you were still here. And that you hadn’t eaten.” He held out a clear plastic bag with a six-inch sub in it.
“You figured right.” She took the bag and joined him on top of the hood. Withdrew the sandwich and unwrapped it. “Interesting choice of locations for a picnic.”
He chewed and swallowed the bite of steak and cheese sub before responding. “I knew a nicer spot. Surrounded by nature. Private. Unspoiled. They pulled a bunch of human bones out of it this afternoon.”
“Good point.” He saw her expression lighten when she discovered he’d brought her an oven-roasted chicken breast. He’d paid attention. “No chips?”
Handing her a napkin, he said, “You don’t eat chips.”
“I don’t?” She bit into the sub hungrily.
“Not that I’ve noticed. You can have half my big cookie, though. They only had one chocolate chocolate-chip left. A more chivalrous man would give you the whole thing, but . . . I’m not that man. I take cookies very seriously.”
Her lips curved, and there was a shrewdness in her gaze that he immediately distrusted. “You’re not that man. But you brought me a sandwich because you thought I hadn’t eaten.”
He shrugged, discomfited. “I was hungry. Thought you might be, too. You need to keep your strength up. Leaping tall buildings with a single bound has got to take energy.”
“You’re a nice guy, Sharper. This is going to wreak havoc with your go-to-hell image, but deep down, you’re a nice guy.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He moved his shoulders, oddly ill at ease with the turn of conversation. “Don’t let it get around. I actually only worry about feeding whisper-thin ex-models turned scientists who look like a good wind could blow them over. And only then on the fourth Friday of the month after they’ve hauled old bones out a hot springs.”
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