Touched by Death (28 page)

"Only if we do the processing and turn everything
over to them."

She put her fork down. "We already agreed that
we'd help out in our own free time to make sure that happened."
She frowned and looked at Meg and Stephen for affirmation. "Or
was I wrong?"

"No, that's correct."

She turned back to Bruce, "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that Tony doesn't want us doing
the work, doesn't want the company name associated in any way with this
mess. He also doesn't want any of the remains to be handed over to them
until we have found the remains we're looking for and have removed them."

"You mean, he's afraid that if a crime has been
committed, then it would reflect badly on the company or interfere with
our ability to complete the job? Jade picked up her fork again and continued
to eat. How typical.

Bruce sighed. "He's worried that even if we do
locate our family members the authorities here won't release the remains
we're wanting to ship to the States. That's a possibility. And I can't
fault Tony for his logic. We've gotten slightly off on a tangent and
he's just trying to rein us back in."

"Except we had no idea what we'd find in that
grave."

Bruce picked up his coffee cup. "No, of course
not. Our loyalty has to remain with Tony, yet I can't walk away from
those other victims either."

"There's only so much we can do." Meg sipped
her coffee. "We've taken loads of pictures and we've dug up the
remains and processed them to the extent we're able."

Stephen nodded. "So then there is no big deal.
We can turn our findings, and the remains in question, over to the authorities
and carry on."

A strange look crossed Bruce's face.

Jade caught it and wondered. Then the missing piece
clicked. "You mean, that might work, unless one of those women
with the chains, like the most recent one, happens to be the adult female
we're looking for?"

Dane pushed the kitchen door open and wandered inside.
"John? You in here?" He walked through the kitchen and into
the living room in case his brother left him a note. He kept his gaze
off the creepy dolls. Why the hell hadn't his brother taken that shit
down?

"John?" He poked his head inside the
only bedroom in the tiny house.

What the hell? The bedroom was a mess. Incense bowls
filled the top of the dresser and more little creepy dolls covered the
nightstand. He didn't know what had gone through Tasha's mind these
last few days and weeks, but it looked like the slide had been in progress
for a while.

It was John who worried him now. How could all this
have gone unnoticed and why didn't he do something about this? Then
he remembered his brother's inability to make decisions...

Where the hell was he? He pulled out his phone and
called him yet again. Was this the fifth time? Maybe John had gone into
town to see Tasha? Then why the hell wasn't he answering the phone?

"Hello."

Dane ran a tired hand over his damp hair at the weary
sound of his brother's voice. "John! I've been looking for you.
Trying to reach you."

Sounding like he'd hit the last of his reserves, John
said, "Emile didn't make it."

Dane closed his eyes briefly.
Shit.
"I heard. I'm sorry. I'd hoped he'd pull through."

"Yeah...well he died around noon. I came down
as soon as I got the message." A yawn, came through the phone.
"Ah hell, Dane. Life pretty much sucks right now."

Dane agreed, yet stayed quiet, not wanting to depress
his brother any further. Wincing against the answer to come, Dane asked
hesitantly, "And Tasha? Any change there?"

"No improvement. They've moved her to the psyche
ward."

"What? Already? Surely she hasn't improved physically
enough for that move, has she?"

"I don't know. Something about needing round
the clock care and no beds. The psyche ward isn't all that thrilled
to have her either. I don't know where she belongs. I want her home
with me, only she doesn't see me, hear me... She doesn't seem to know
I'm even there."

"Aw, hell." Dane couldn't think of anything
else to say. "I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah. Me too. The thing is, no one can tell
me if she's improving, going to improve or take a long slide down. She's
my wife. For better or for worse. And never did I consider this could
happen." He sighed. "And I didn't mean that in a bad way.
She's my wife. I love her. I want her home where she belongs. I know
she lost the baby and that's going to be hard on her...on us, but we
can make more babies." His voice caught on a sob. "I can't
live without her. I don't want to."

"You can if you have to. I know this is hard.
There has been enough hurt and suffering; I don't want to lose you,
too."

"I'm not dying. Nor am I suicidal. I do wonder
why God hates me so much though."

Dane winced and let his brother ramble. "I don't
think He hates you."

"He sure as hell doesn't love me."

In an effort to change the subject, Dane asked, "When
are you coming home?"

"Soon. I'm just driving around. I had to get
out for a bit."

"Understood. Give yourself time."

"So why is it, I don't feel like I have any time?"
Bitterness slipped across the phone line.

Dane frowned. He didn't like the way this was going.
"Have you heard or seen anything of Peppe?"

"No. I don't know where the old bugger has gone.
Don't care much, at this point, either… Silence. What could Dane say?

"I know I'm being a bit of a bastard yet I can't
help it," John continued. "I'm going to pick up something
for dinner and come home. Are you going to be there?"

"Yeah, I'm beat. Been hiking all day, looking
for one of Jade's coworkers. Make it dinner for three. I'm starved."

"On my way."

Dane hung up and smiled. "Now that sounds better."
He stood in the middle of the living room talking to himself, uncertain
what to do. Tasha's stuff filled the house. He couldn't begin to get
inside of Tasha's head; even worse, he now understood her mind had broken.
His brother would be back in about fifteen minutes. What could he do
to help John? The poor guy had been sleeping on the couch for a month
now. Not that they'd spoken about it. Should he clean out the bedroom
for his brother? Maybe through that process he'd find a clue to help
them understand her behavior.

Not bloody likely.

The smelly bedroom made his skin crawl.

He turned on the overhead light and winced. The darkness
had hidden the extent of the mess. There wasn't a spot on the floor
to be seen. He couldn't believe she owned that many clothes. She'd only
worn a couple of outfits.

He returned to the kitchen and grabbed several garbage
bags. Then he walked out to his truck and put on his work gloves. Taking
a deep breath, he started bagging the mess on the floor. There was no
easy way to do it so he just picked and shoved until the first bag was
full then grabbed a second one. The third one he stuffed with bedding.
He hauled the bags to the porch. Returning to the room, he grabbed a
broom, opened a window and finished cleaning. He hadn't found anything
but filth.

He stopped beside the first of two small tables on
either side of the bed – each had a drawer. Dane was tempted
to open it. But this was his brother's bedroom. He shouldn't be poking
his nose anywhere here.

He tried, but couldn't turn away.

Shit. Shit.
Okay. Just one quick look. The first table was
almost empty. On top were a small clock and a lamp. Nothing else. The
other one had to be Tasha's and it was different. The drawer was full
of small bags of herbs, maybe potions of some sort. Or drugs? He winced.
That might explain her behavior. Not that he was an expert. It wouldn't
explain the loss of the baby – then like the doctor had said, sometimes
losses like that just happened.

Did John need to know the details? The whys? Would
it be easier? Help him with his recovery?

Headlights shone through the living room window. John
was home.

Great. Would he appreciate what Dane had done or be
devastated by the intrusion? Only time would tell.

He walked outside to meet his brother.

He stood in his son's cabin – originally built decades
ago for the foreman on the farm, then for guests as a way to make extra
money, before his son grew into a man. Emile had moved in when Tasha
had gotten herself married.

And Emile wasn't here. He hadn't come home.

The ambulance had taken him and the night had swallowed
him.

Peppe ran a shaky hand through his thinning hair.
His world consisted of slices of memories that even when pieced together
made no sense. He'd been in the main house several times since the ambulance
had taken his kids away. Since then there'd been no sign of them. No
sign of Tasha. No sign of Emile.

Instead the interloper had moved in. John's brother.
He'd cleaned out Tasha's stuff – bags full left on the porch like
garbage. Her things weren't garbage. His little girl wasn't garbage
– not like some women.

Someone was going to pay for this. And soon.

He didn't see John being responsible. He'd always
been good to Tasha. To Emile. To him. Not that he'd seen him much.

Still, he'd been there for a while now. John's brother
on the other hand... and that group he hung around with. At the grave,
he'd seen Dane sniffing around that little blonde who worked at the
trailers.

Someone had to pay for this intrusion into their lives
and their homes. This was his place. He wanted his son and daughter
back. Maybe he could force them to bring the kids home? Hmmm. The brother?
The grave team? He smiled grimly. Or one of the women who were connected
to both?

Perfect.

M
orning came too early. Jade groaned and rolled over
to bury her face in the pillow. She did not want to be awake this early
on a Sunday. Weekends were supposed to be for fun and rest... Still,
they'd found Dr. Mike and the word was his condition was improving.

She smiled into the pillow. Today was a whole new
day. Sitting up, she grinned at the sunshine peeking through her curtains.
Another nice day then – a day to stay home, kick around and take
it easy. Maybe hit the beach like she'd promised herself. She'd had
enough drama for a lifetime.

Her hotel phone rang. She picked it up. Her brother,
Duncan. A happy sigh wafted through her. It was so nice to have him
call. "Hey. What's happening?"

"That's why I called. How are things over there?"

She filled him on the last few days and wasn't surprised
at his exclamations.

"Holy crap. Are you nuts! You were supposed to
go over there to recover…to get back to normal. Not to experience
more stress."

She kicked back her covers and leaned back against
her headboard. "You're right and I'd be happy to have missed this.
But today, after finding Dr. Mike last night, things are looking much
better."

"Well, is everything else okay now?"

She told him about Tony's visit and the progress on
the site, then remembered to ask him about his life back in Seattle.
After they said their good-byes Jade got up and took a shower.

Breakfast was a quiet calm affair, in that she was
alone in the dining room. She ordered a big meal and took it to the
outside patio to sit in the sunshine. It was still early and the sun
already had enough heat that she chose to sit by the palm trees in a
shaded spot. She took her time and relaxed. She was going nowhere today.

A sleepy Meg stumbled out onto the patio to join her.

"I didn't expect to see you here so early."
Jade smirked at the disgruntled look on Meg's face.

Meg yawned widely. "I don't want to be here either.
I want to be in bed, sleeping. As that's apparently not an option, here
I am." Meg carefully put her plate and cup on the table. "If
there were any justice, we'd be able to recoup all those lost hours
of worrying by sleeping late." Meg pulled a chair over and sat
down. "My face feels like sandpaper was scraped over it while I
slept."

"I have some nice cream in my room if you'd like
to try some." Jade reached for her last piece of toast and spread
jam over it. "Have you ordered your breakfast yet?"

"Yes. I'm just having French toast." She
crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on them. With her
eyes closed she looked ready to drop back off to sleep.

Jade brightened. "I forgot about that option.
I could use some, too."

Meg lifted her head and snorted. "Are you nuts?
You just ate."

Jade shrugged. "I burned a lot of calories yesterday.
Can't afford to lose any more weight."

Cindy, the one waitress who worked on weekends, refilled
their coffee cups. Jade ordered another round of French toast while
Meg snickered, perking up enough to butter her toast, then poured on
the syrup. Coffee and food seemed to revive her.

By the time Jade's second breakfast arrived, Stephen
and Wilson had joined them. Everyone looked tired and worn out but they
smiled broadly and bright eyes abounded. Yesterday had turned out for
the best. In the bright sunshine of the morning, it was easy to see
the world in a more positive light.

When Dr. Mike hobbled in, bright but a little worn
around the edges, with Bruce behind him, everyone cheered. Jade jumped
up and held out a chair for the doctor. She snagged his crutches and
leaned them against the palm tree behind her. "How are you?"

He smiled and hopped the last step to the table. "I'm
fine. I'm so happy to be back here."

Bruce dropped onto a chair too. "After a great
night, the doctors were happy to release him early this morning. We
even snuck a quick stop to update the police. Wait until you all hear
his story." He stared at Jade's plate. "I hope you left some
for others."