Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (13 page)

This was not the time to tell Rose about her job. The truth wasn’t going to help her get well any faster.

The door opened, and Doctor Evans poked his head inside. “Ah, everybody’s here.”

“Sorry,” Megan said. “We know we’re not all supposed to be in here at once. Justin and I were just leaving.”

Doctor Evans waved a hand in front of his face. “That rule doesn’t apply now that she’s stable. As long as you don’t tire her out, you can all stay.”

“Would it be asking too much to consult the patient about who she wants in her room?” Rose muttered, followed by another fit of coughing, along with some labored gasps for breath. Doctor Evans unwrapped the stethoscope from his neck and plugged it into his ears, approaching the bed. Sam jerked to his feet.

Megan saw the concern filling Doctor Evans’ face. She reached for Justin—again. He was definitely becoming her anchor. Justin squeezed her hand and drew closer. “That didn’t sound good,” she whispered. The bleep machine picked up the tempo, and Megan’s heart raced, as if trying to match the rhythm.

“Good thing the doctor was already in the room,” Justin said.

Megan kept her voice low. “I shouldn’t have said anything about not going home. I’m sure it upset her.”

Justin gave her another squeeze. “And I’m sure it’s the infection, not anything you said.”

While Doctor Evans listened to Rose’s chest, Sam stood on the other side of the bed, his age-spotted hands clenched into fists. Megan slipped away from Justin and looped her arm around Sam’s waist, trying to share what little strength she had left.

After what seemed like hours, Doctor Evans removed the ear pieces and tucked the stethoscope around his neck again. Megan saw his frown. “What?”

The doctor quickly schooled his features into a more neutral expression. “More congestion than what I’d like to hear. A modification of her medications is likely all that’s needed, but I’m going to consult a colleague.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Always wise to get a second opinion, you know.”

“You will tell us what you find?” Sam said. Although he voiced it as a question, it was clearly a command.

* * * * *

Megan left the men at the hospital. She’d already discovered that waiting—especially for something involving someone she loved—wasn’t her strong suit. Back at Rose’s house, she found a small overnight case and began filling it with things that would make Rose feel more at home. According to Doctor Evans’ prediction, Rose would be in the hospital at least three more days.

She resisted the feeling of voyeurism as she searched Rose’s dresser for a nightgown. Heat flooded her face as she found a red silk negligee. And an even more risqué sheer black lace-trimmed gown. She shoved them both back into the drawer. Didn’t Rose have any modest cotton nightgowns? Or a long-sleeved nightshirt? Or flannel pajamas? Good grief. Rose’s lingerie was sexier than anything Megan owned. She couldn’t imagine Rose wearing these, much less wearing them in front of the hospital staff.

She opened the next drawer and—thank goodness—was relieved to find more… suitable… nightwear. With a sigh of relief, she chose two knee-length nightgowns, one cotton with sprigs of flowers, one checked flannel. Slippers? She found Rose’s blue mules at the foot of the bed.

Toiletries next. Megan went into the bathroom, which bore steamy traces of Sam’s recent shower mingled with the scent of Old Spice, so she opened the window to air out the room. Pine-scented air wafted in on a refreshing breeze.

She gathered Rose’s 4711 perfume, a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and, on a whim, some of Rose’s cosmetics. Nothing elaborate—some powder, blush, and lip gloss. And a jar of Rose’s favorite face cream. Rose’s robe hung on a hook behind the bathroom door, and Megan added that as well. She was looking to see if Rose had any travel-size shampoo containers when voices filtered in through the open window. Frowning, Megan strained to make out what they were saying. Something about digging. The bones, she remembered. Was someone burying more? She abandoned her packing and raced to fetch her cell phone. Fingers trembling, she found Gordon’s number.

Chapter 14

Gordon checked his cell phone’s display. Seeing Megan’s name spiked his heart rate. Had something happened to Rose? “It’s Gordon.”

“Gordon. Help. I think the killer might be here.”

Not Rose, then. But her gasps said she was clearly frantic. “Slow down, Megan. Can you see them? Are you in danger?”

Her breathing steadied. “No, not right now. I’m in the house. I can hear them talking about digging. They’re too far away to see, but there are at least two different voices. Do you think the killer heard that the bones were found, and he’s coming back to move them? Or maybe he’s killed someone else?”

“Slow down. What you’re probably hearing is some of my officers who are excavating some places where the search dog indicated there were more bones. They should have checked in with you to let you know they were going to be digging.”

“I just got here, so I wouldn’t have heard.”

“To be safe, I’m going to call my people and have them check around to make sure there’s nobody else around. Don’t hang up.” Putting Megan on hold, he used the office land line to call Solomon.

“Had a call from Megan Wyatt at the Kretzer house. She heard voices, and I’m verifying they’re yours. Any possibility you’re not alone?”

“Not likely, but I’ll have Titch check. We can’t see the house from here, so there’s a slim chance she heard someone else. Very slim.”

“Assuming you’re clear, have McDermott let her know, please. And if you’re
not
, let Dispatch know, and get Ms. Wyatt out of the house immediately.”

“Ten-four.”

He reconnected with Megan. “ My officers don’t think there’s anyone else there, but they’re checking. One of them will be by in a few minutes.”

“Thanks. I guess I’m on edge. I overreacted. Sorry to bother you.”

“No apology necessary. You did the right thing.” And since he hadn’t heard from Sam or Gilman, he added, “How’s Rose doing?”

Distress filled her voice. “I don’t know. She seemed to be doing all right when Justin and I visited. The nurse said she was stable, but then Rose started having trouble breathing. Dr. Evans was there, and he said he was going to get a second opinion. I came home to get some of Rose’s things—you know, to make her feel more at home.”

Gordon made a mental note to call Gilman again. “Rose is a fighter. She survived the Holocaust. She’s not going to let some little bug defeat her.”

“I know. But—what if she’s out of fight?”

“I can’t imagine that ever happening.” His office phone rang. “Hang on. That could be my officers.”

“All clear,” Solomon said. “McDermott’s on her way to talk to Miss Wyatt.”

“Thanks.” Gordon hung up and got Megan back on the line. “Everything’s okay. One of my officers, Vicky McDermott, should be showing up at your door any minute.”

“I really appreciate it, Gordon. Thanks.”

“All part of the job.” Gordon ended the call. Knowing everything was under control, he tried to keep his focus on emptying his inbox, but too much of his attention was tuned in to the radio traffic.

You could turn it off, you know. They’ll keep you in the loop.

But he knew he still wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

He leafed through his inbox looking for calls and paperwork he could deal with while leaving half his brain tuned to radio traffic. He pulled the folder Laurie left with papers for his signature. Skimming them—not because he thought she’d ever try to sneak anything by him, but because he didn’t like signing anything without having some idea what it was about—he affixed his signature everywhere she’d stuck a little red arrow. He approved next month’s schedule, then glanced at the equipment requests. Those he set aside to deal with later, when he could juggle the approvals and rejections so the bean counters wouldn’t think he was being greedy. Laurie had flagged a few of those as well—outrageous requests, or things far enough over the line that he could point to and tell the council how much money he’d saved Mapleton.

He’d started leafing through his message slips when Solomon called back. “Figured you wanted a sitrep, Chief.”

Did he ever. “What have you found in the bone department?”

“We’re about eighteen inches down at the first site. Nothing but roots and rocks so far.”

“Keep going.”

“Hey, come here!” Titch’s voice bellowed in the background.

“Gotta’ go, Chief. I’ll be in touch.”

Gordon stared at the dead phone. “You damn well better be,” he grumbled.

Laurie tapped on the door and came in, carrying a stack of paper over an inch thick. She dropped it on his desk with an assertive
plop
. “This is what I’ve got so far. Property records going back forty-five years.”

“I said thirty, didn’t I?”

“Might as well be thorough. Some long-timers have been here longer than that, but I figured you’d eventually want more, or at least know who held the property before they did. They’re organized by decade, then alphabetically.” She turned to leave, stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “I’ll check the voter registrations next. Oh, and would you like me to order flowers for Rose Kretzer?”

“I ever tell you you’re too damn efficient?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Make them from the department,” Gordon said. Screw the bean counters; the budget could handle one lousy floral arrangement. He’d bring his own offering to the hospital later.

He leafed through the pages, finding Benny and Zannah’s property records. They’d moved into the house forty years ago—mentally thanking Laurie for going the extra mile. He tapped the address into the police database and got the phone number for the new owners. Sure, it had been a long time, but when they’d bought the house, they might have needed contact information. Forwarding address, some way to contact the previous owners with questions about repairs, recommendations for local merchants. Maybe they were the kind of people who saved stuff like that.

Yeah, right.

But he picked up the phone.

“No,” the woman who answered said when Gordon asked her about Benny and Zannah. “We’ve only lived here five years. The house was empty when we bought it, and we dealt strictly with the Realtors. I think the previous owners had moved away and had been renting it out.”

Gordon thanked her and got the name of the real estate company that had handled the sale. From there, he got the name of the people who’d originally bought the house from Benny and Zannah. Not a huge step forward, but it felt good to be following a trail. Maybe Angie was right about him—he was like a terrier with a bone.

Or maybe he simply liked any excuse to avoid dealing with routine paperwork.

When Solomon called announcing they’d hit pay dirt—or pay bones, as he put it, Gordon called Pierce Asel at the Coroner’s Office. By the time Asel got to Mapleton, Gordon’s team would have excavated the other two sites. A glance at the time said his lunch break was right about now, and what better place to take it than in the woods?

* * * * *

Gordon parked in front of the Kretzers’ house, behind Vicky McDermott’s cruiser. She was standing on the porch, holding a large thermos and talking to Megan. He loped up the walkway from the street. “Everything okay?” he asked, knowing the answer, because he’d have heard if his officers had found anything untoward.

McDermott swiveled at the question. “Hey, Chief. I was thanking Miss Wyatt for the coffee and returning her thermos.”

“Sorry to have pulled the freak-out card,” Megan said. “I guess with the bones, and Rose being sick, I overreacted.”

Gordon shook his head. “You did exactly right. And, so you know, someone from the Coroner’s Office will be here in a while.”

“More bones?” Megan gripped the porch rail. “Are they from the same person?”

Gordon turned a questioning gaze to McDermott. She shrugged and said, “No way to tell—at least not by me. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know one bone from another.” She shifted her attention to Megan. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

“No problem,” Megan said. “Would you like a refill?”

“No, we’re fine, but would you mind if I used your bathroom? Sort of goes along with drinking coffee.”

Megan laughed. “Of course not. There’s one off the living room. To the left.”

McDermott strode into the house. Gordon couldn’t help but notice Megan’s red-rimmed eyes and the purple shadows beneath them. “You holding up all right? I thought you’d be at the hospital.”

“Sam promised to call if he had any news, so while I was waiting, I’ve been catching up on… work. I’m about ready to head over now.”

“Give Rose my best.” Once McDermott returned and Megan went back inside, Gordon asked his officer for an update as they walked into the woods.

“Same as I told Miss Wyatt. Nothing obvious like a skull. And they’re loose bones. Not like the skeleton hanging in my high school’s Biology classroom.”

They crunched their way through fallen leaves, skirting deadfall, and dodging low-hanging branches. As they approached the site, the smell of freshly turned dirt lingered in the air. Along with faint birdsong, Gordon heard the clicks of Solomon’s camera. He quickened his pace.

Titch straightened at Gordon’s approach. “Almost done here, Chief.” He held a small brush.

Gordon ducked under the yellow tape and peered around Solomon’s crouched figure into a neatly excavated hole.

“Go,” Solomon said, pointing the camera into the hole.

Titch squatted and brushed dirt aside, uncovering what Gordon recognized as a vertebra. Looking more closely, he saw at least three more.

“Not sure we’re getting them all. Between the rocks and the roots, it’s hard to know how much is down here,” Titch said.

Solomon snapped several more pictures.

“Once Asel gets here, he can decide if we should call out a forensics team from County,” Gordon said. “What about the other sites?”

“Haven’t started those yet,” Solomon said. “This is slow going. Be easier if we could shovel the whole thing up and sift through it.”