Bone Deep (13 page)

She closed her eyes, vaguely aware of Phillips thanking the officer for his assistance.

“There’s just one thing,” the cop said.

Whether it was the sound of his voice or some internal instinct, Jill opened her eyes and listened up. Thankfully she hadn’t closed the door yet.

Dunn scratched his head. “While y’all were talking to Sarah, I checked in with dispatch. Funny thing is,” he said, thinking for a second or two before he went on, “she couldn’t locate an Amber Alert on your boy. Doesn’t make much sense that your chief of police would fall down on the job like that.”

Strangely, it made a great deal of sense to Jill.

Chapter 9

The moment Jill walked through the door of her mother’s house she found the most recent picture of Cody on display. Pictures Kate had taken herself. Jill stared at the photograph and shook her head slowly from side to side. “This just isn’t possible.”

Phillips came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. He hadn’t said much on the trip back to Paradise. Jill assumed he was processing. She certainly had been. The only question about the Long child that remained in her mind was how he came to be since his mother insisted she had not been involved in any fertility procedures.

“We need to discuss this with your mother.”

Jill plunked the brass frame onto the table. “Oh, that’ll just be the perfect finale for this day, Phillips. Shall we pay a visit to the chief as well?” She continued to use his surname for distance. As weak and unsteady as she felt as this point, she didn’t trust herself to be familiar with him in any shape, form or fashion. If last night hadn’t been blatant enough, today had certainly done the deed. She was the typical desperate female in need of a man’s strong arms.

Dear God, what was happening to her?

“I have a theory.”

She did need to check in with the chief for the good it would do. Particularly when she demanded to know what happened with the Amber Alert. How the hell had that happened? She rubbed her tried eyes, needed to erase the images of Brady Long from her head. “If your theory involves my mother I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“We need to find out if your sister experienced any fertility issues.”

Jill was on that same page though she doubted she would get any answers from her mother. She hadn’t so far. Images of that little boy in Lynchburg plowed their way back into her thoughts. What had her sister discovered?

New outrage kindled deep in her belly. What was her mother hiding? “Mother!” Jill stormed through the house. Phillips was right—as usual. They needed answers and it was way past time Claire Ellington broke her silence. “Mother!”

“In here, Jillian,” she called from the kitchen.

When Jill entered the kitchen, Claire Ellington was fussing over the stove. Taken aback, a moment or two passed before Jill could comprehend that the heavenly smell she’d just encountered was coming from whatever her mother was cooking. Her mother never cooked anymore unless she counted the microwave meals.

“Is there any news about Cody?”

Claire glanced at Jill, then beyond her to Phillips, not bothering to hide her distaste before shifting her attention back to the stovetop. “Nothing new. Arvel—the chief—assured me they’re not giving up.”

What was with her tone? She answered the question as if she’d just relayed the day’s weather forecast. The idea of
Stepford Wives
flitted through Jill’s head again. “I have a question about Kate?”

“The doctor said she’s doing better. He called not an hour ago.” Claire turned off the oven and peeked inside. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Jill braced for the backlash. “Did Kate have any problems conceiving?”

The wooden spoon Claire had just picked up clattered to the counter. “What kind of question is that?” she demanded, taking immediate offense. “You know your sister has never been sick a day in her life.”

Yes, Jill did know that. Something else Kate was better at. “Be that as it may, did she use LifeCycle or some other fertility clinic when she wanted to get pregnant?”

Claire retrieved the spoon, rinsed it, then started to stir once more. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” She flicked a glance in Phillips’ direction. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such a personal matter.”

Jill’s temper ruptured the thin membrane of control she’d managed to retain. “I’m an attorney and Dr. Phillips is a forensics psychologist. This point could be extremely important to Kate’s case. So let’s not argue about it, just answer the question.” Jill bit her lips together to prevent adding a few dozen expletives. She was so damned tired of the runaround from her mother.

“If it makes you feel better to humiliate your sister in front of a stranger, then fine.” She glowered at Jill. “Yes, Kate had trouble conceiving so she used the LifeCycle Center for help.”

Another skeleton from the family closet. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Jill hadn’t meant to voice the hurt, but she did. She was always the last one to know anything. This was just another prime example of how the whole family had punished her for leaving in the first place. She was the outsider. The black sheep. But then, that was her fault, wasn’t it?

“Would you have cared?” Claire looked away, her lids fluttering rapidly to hold back her tears. “You left here all those years ago to have your own life. What did you expect? We gave you what you wanted.” Her gaze settled heavily onto Jill’s, it was impossible to miss the pain there. “We let you go.” Claire turned her attention back to the stovetop. “I don’t want to discuss this any further.”

Jill reminded herself that she had asked. Her mother’s words were nothing she didn’t already know and still they hurt.

“Thank you, Mother.” She walked out. Refused to cry again today. Her mother had told the truth. She was right on all counts. Jill had gotten what she asked for.

When she was out of earshot of the kitchen, she turned to the man keeping step with her and demanded, “Now what?”

To his credit, if he felt any pity for her, he kept it to himself. “Since the locals won’t let us in on the official investigation, we’re going to the library.”

“What’re we doing at the library?” She snagged her purse from the table in the entry hall where she’d left it only minutes ago. She really didn’t care about the what as long as they were out of here.

“Digging for anything we can find on LifeCycle where anyone who cares to look will see us.”

She paused at the door. “We want them to know what we’re doing.”

A rare grin stretched across his face. The impact disrupted the rhythm of her heart. “We do. On the way, why don’t you give the chief a call and ask him about the Amber Alert.”

“Lucky me.” It sucked being second chair.

~*~

Paul rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced at his watch. They’d been here three hours already. According to the posted hours of operation, the library closed at ten. They hadn’t found anything to speak of yet and had only half an hour until closing. The librarian had strolled past at least once every half hour, shooting daggers at them, evidently hoping to garner intelligence for the chief. Worked for Paul. He wanted the chief to sweat.

Mostly he wanted him to react.

In the back issues of the local paper there were the usual announcements and headlines about LifeCycle. The ribbon cutting ceremony from just over thirty years ago, employees of the month and the introduction of new doctors being brought onboard. The occasional milestone released to the press, but those were few and far between and didn’t pique his interest. The
Paradise Gazette
was the only local newspaper.

Paul wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He would know it when he saw it. That’s just the way it worked.

More out of curiosity than anything, he went back a couple of years before LifeCycle’s arrival in Paradise. MedTech had moved in around the same time as The LifeCycle Center. He recalled Jill saying the primary source of employment before that had been the old Benford plant. He wanted to know more.

Charles Benford Found Murdered
.

Paul scrolled back and read the article. Charles Bedford, owner and operator of Benford Chemical of Paradise, had been found murdered in his home. The newspaper was dated February fifth, thirty-three years ago. His instincts starting to vibrate, he scanned the article more closely. There were no suspects in the case. In light of the recent startling discovery that Benford had been allowing pollutants with Endocrine-disrupting effects to seep into Paradise’s ground water a number of theories were rampant.

Anticipation burning through him, Paul went back further, scanning for related articles.

Bingo. Among other things, all of which were legal, Benford Chemical had been producing Dioxins, furans, and PCBs. The grimmest news of all, according to an EPA spokesperson, was that the pollutants had been allowed to contaminate the local ground water. The entire town was up in arms. Two days after the EPA’s announcement, Charles Benford was dead.

Murdered.

A knowing chill settled deep in Paul’s bones.

Endocrine-disrupting pollutants
.

He needed more details.

A few taps of the keys later and he was inside a classified government database, one of many to which he was still allowed access. He typed Dioxin in the search box. Characters, words spilled onto the screen. He read quickly, knowing he would print the material for later, more in-depth perusal.

The next paragraph had him leaning forward. With Endocrine-disrupting organohalogens, the most common adverse side effect in humans was
sterility
.

His heart pounding, Paul printed the article. The Benford murder still nagged at him. He reviewed the
Paradise Gazette
for three years after the murder. The only related article was a brief blurb that mentioned the case and indicated that, as of that date, nearly thirty years ago, the murder was still unsolved.

Vigilantism was Paul’s initial impression.

He kicked the idea around in his head until it solidified. Someone had gotten even with Benford for his inhumane activities. Of course, there was always the chance it had to do with money or payoffs of government officials. But every instinct told Paul that it was a lot more personal than that.

It was about as personal as a matter could get.

Like Manning’s murder, the law enforcement officials of Paradise had swept it under the rug. No one seemed worried at all that there might be a killer running around their quiet little town. Maybe two, considering Benford’s killer could still be alive.

He watched Jill for a moment before he moved close enough to make her aware of his presence. She tucked a handful of hair behind her ear. He’d seen the desire in her eyes today. Nice to know the attraction was mutual. He’d damned sure done some lusting after her.

But clearing the air and putting thought into action were two entirely different things with vastly different consequences. He needed her to be strong because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist the temptation of working this closely.

The librarian walked past, tapped the watch on her wrist.

Jill looked up. “I’m ready if you are,” he let her know.

She stretched and made a soft sound of fatigue. He had to look away. His body just didn’t want to follow instructions.

When she’d gathered her purse, he followed her to the door. “Would you hit a drive-thru before we go back to your mother’s?”

“Mother cooked.” She flashed him a fake smile. “The least we can do is eat.”

“Works for me.”

Outside the library entrance, Jill stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, causing him to brush up against her.

“Miss Jill, I’ve been looking for you.”

Chief Dotson waited near the Land Rover. His expression openly suspicious.

“Have you found him?” Jill’s hands went immediately to her lips. She trembled.

Paul just wasn’t strong enough to keep his distance. He rested his hand at the small of her back, offering what comfort he could.

The chief sighed, his face grim. “We can’t be certain just yet, but we believe so. We should have confirmation by morning.”

“Oh my God.” Her knees buckled. Paul pulled her against him.

On the way here Jill had left him a voicemail about the Amber Alert. Paul’s instincts warned they’d gotten his attention.

“What’s the hold up with identification?” Paul asked. Jill and her mother shouldn’t have to wait unnecessarily.

Dotson turned his hands up. “Burned beyond recognition. TBI’s gonna pick up the remains tomorrow morning and we’ll know more after they’ve completed their work. We’re pretty sure it’s him. A good portion of the bear he always wagged around, according to Ms. Claire, was recovered from the scene. She’s identified it just a few minutes ago.”

Jill turned her face into Paul’s chest, sobbing. That feeling of wrongness stabbed through him again. But he couldn’t press the chief for details right now, not with Jill falling apart in his arms.

“I’ll be around tomorrow to see how her and her momma are faring.” He hesitated before walking away. “It’s out of our hands now, Dr. Phillips.”

Paul didn’t bother responding. He helped Jill into the Land Rover, buckled her seat belt and closed her door. When he skirted the hood, he glimpsed the chief climbing into his cruiser. For three beats their gazes met.

And Paul knew the chief was hiding something.

No
.

The chief was flat out lying.

~*~

Claire Ellington, holding up surprisingly well, insisted on seeing her daughter to bed without any help from Paul. Feeling more in the way than anything else, he retired to Judge Ellington’s study and paced.

He reviewed all that he’d absorbed about this case. The crime scene was all wrong, or staged. There was no motive. The child was missing and now suddenly found. How convenient that the body was burned beyond recognition, with only part of a stuffed toy to use for identification at this point. There were no dental records since the child had never been to a dentist.

That would certainly tidy up the missing child aspect of the case. But what about the murder? How did the chief intend to cleanly resolve that element? Would it simply go unsolved as the Benford murder had?