Hard Truth

10

“You’re kidding. Remains of a second body? Same era as the first? Same sex, same cause of death?” T.J.’s questions shot at Lorna through her cell phone with a speed that defied response.

“Whoa. Slow down,” she protested. “I have no information other than there was another finding. I detected a definite coolness from Chief Walker, though, so I suspect I’m still on his shit list, which means it’s not likely he’ll be willing to share any news with me.”

Lorna slumped in her chair at the dining room table. There’d been a steady stream of police and emergency vehicles appearing over near the new development all day, but she had no idea what was going on. She’d walked across the field around two o’clock, but the EMT who’d been posted guard on her side of the property wasn’t about to let anyone near the site of the grave. From where she’d stood, she could see the ME’s car and those marked County CID, but other than being able to note the high level of activity, she couldn’t tell what was going on.

“I think we need to know right off the bat if there’s any chance this could be connected to Jason’s death, and if so, are they going to be eyeing Billie as a suspect. I wonder if the chief would talk to me.”

“Ah, apparently I need to remind you why I’m on his shit list in the first place.”

“Good point.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “But there are other law enforcement personnel there, right? Didn’t you say there were county cars on-site?”

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe I could get some information from one of them. You know, lawman to lawman.”

“Do PIs qualify as lawmen?”

“Hey, I’m ex-FBI. We could get lucky. And remember, the only person who saw me at the police station was the receptionist, so neither the chief nor any of his officers knows what I look like.”

“What information are you searching for?”

“Whatever we can learn about the victim. For starters, cause of death. How long the remains have been there.”

“They wouldn’t necessarily know that right away, would they?”

“They’d have a damned good idea of what killed the victim if the skull was bashed in, and clothes can give you an indication of the era.”

“But they couldn’t determine the age of the victim just by looking at the bones, could they?”

“It’s possible, if your ME is very good. That will require some lab work, though. I don’t know how well equipped your county facilities are, and I don’t know how good the lab techs are. A lot of smaller labs don’t have the funds for the more sophisticated equipment.”

“So assuming that we don’t have what it takes here, the bones would be sent elsewhere for testing, right?”

“Right. Most likely to the FBI lab.”

“Oh, that would go over big.” She grimaced. “I suppose they’ll blame that on me, too.”

T.J. laughed. “I promise to take the blame for everything. I don’t have to live in that town.”

Motion at the far side of the field caught her eye.

“T.J., hold on, there’s something else happening out there.” Lorna walked outside and to the end of the front porch.

“What’s going on?”

“It looks like another ambulance just arrived. Why would they need another ambulance?” She frowned. “Unless they found another body…”

“I’m on my way.”

She disconnected the call and walked up the drive to the barn, then along the edge of the field and to the family burial ground.

“Do you believe this, Mom?” she asked as she went through the gate.

Lorna watched from the closest possible vantage point, but realized that she wasn’t likely to see a thing from anyplace other than the barn, so she started walking back. She’d spent a half hour in the hot sun, and all she’d learned was that a couple of TV stations had sent their news vans, which were parked along the road. Which meant that someone had been alerted to what was happening in Callen and found the story newsworthy. The thought made her uneasy. The last thing she wanted was publicity.

She was almost to the corner of the barn when she heard voices in the drive. Not expecting anyone except T.J., she peered around the corner, and saw two news vans parked next to her BMW.

“Shit.”

She went into the barn through its back door, and climbed to the loft. Besides giving her a better view across the field, it allowed her to avoid the reporters she’d seen lurking around the vans.

Damn. She was supposed to be selling the farm. This kind of attention would not be to her advantage. Who would want to buy a property where dead bodies kept turning up?

She kept one eye on the field, and another on the drive. The reporters didn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave, and the fact that she hadn’t answered the door buzzer didn’t stop them from occasionally going back to the front door and ringing it again. She was thinking perhaps it would be better to face them once and hopefully get rid of them, when another car pulled into the driveway. She watched the small, sleek sports car zip up to the porch and stop.

She crouched at the front loft window and watched as the reporters rushed T.J. After he’d said whatever it was he’d had to say, the reporters and cameramen climbed back into their respective vans and drove off. She waited until they disappeared out onto the road, then made her way down the ladder.

Walking toward the front of the house, she saw T.J. sitting on the front steps.

“How’d you get rid of them?” she called to him.

“Told ’em it was obvious that you weren’t here, but you’d call as soon as you had a statement to make.”

“I’m not going to have any statements.”

“That’s pretty much what I figured.” He grinned as she drew closer. “Got rid of them, though.”

“And I thank you for that. The last thing I want is to have pictures of this farm plastered all over the news. We’re going to be putting the property on the market. I’d rather prospective buyers not get their first look at it on the evening news.” She sat down next to him. “I’m thinking if we keep a low profile here, the fallout won’t be so bad.”

“Well, I did learn a little something from them.” He moved over a little to make more room for her on the step. “They definitely found more remains over there. At least one more, but they’re apparently still digging.”

“Oh, my God.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe this. What the hell?” She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Someone must have been sneaking onto our property and burying bodies.” She covered her face. “At some point, while we were living here, someone was coming onto our property and burying bodies and we never knew.”

“It is pretty creepy, I’ll give you that.”

“Okay, where do we go from here? How do we find out what’s really happening? Not rumors, but facts.”

“Well, seems to me the shortest distance is still a straight line.”

She shook her head. “Chief Walker won’t tell me a thing.”

“Then we go to plan B.” He got up and dusted off the back of his shorts. “I’ll walk over and see what I can find out.”

“Am I going to have to bail you out before the day is over?”

“I’ll do my best to avoid confrontation with the Callen PD,” he told her, “but if I’m not back in an hour, call Mitch.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I was kidding.” He walked toward the field.

“Oh,” she said, though he’d already turned the corner of the house.

Lorna retreated to one of the rocking chairs, and sat down with her feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the porch railing. Her eyes flickered to the road every time she heard a car, then back to the field.

T.J. was back in less than twenty minutes.

“So. How’d you make out, lawman to lawman?”

“Let’s just say those county boys don’t know the meaning of professional courtesy, and we’ll leave it at that.” He took the steps two at a time and sat in the other rocker.

“That bad, eh? Walker see you coming?”

“No. But I didn’t see him coming, either.”

“He kicked you off the site?”

“Yeah, but it could have been worse. At least he didn’t arrest me, like he did one of the reporters who got too close and started snapping pictures.”

“So I guess we need to talk about plan C.”

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never had to go beyond B.” He rocked for a moment. “I could give Mitch a call. I’m sure the Bureau is going to be getting the remains at the lab.”

“Calling Mitch is what got us into this spot. If we contact him before the chief calls them in, we’re just in that much deeper.”

“Good point.” He rocked a little more. “You know, I think we’re getting sidetracked. Our original plan was to speak with some of the witnesses who gave statements back when Melinda disappeared, and a few weeks after that, when Jason disappeared. Let’s get back to that, see if we can develop any new information.”

“Okay. Where do we start? Who should we talk to first?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were hiring me to do the talking.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t come along, does it? I know almost everyone on that list. I can tell you things about them you wouldn’t otherwise know.”

“I’d expect you to tell me, anyway.”

“Well, I would. But I think it makes more sense if I come along.”

T.J. went to his car and opened the trunk. He returned to the porch with the leather portfolio he’d had with him the other night. He opened it and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Lorna.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s the list of people I want to talk to.” He sat back down in the rocker. “Start at the top, let’s go through the first five. What can you tell me about them?”

“Billie Eagan, you already know about.” She looked up at him. “I need to take you over to meet her.”

He nodded, and she continued.

“Chris Taylor-his sister Corrie was a friend of mine all through school, she’s married and living in Syracuse now. He was in Jason’s class.” Her eyes scanned the list. “A lot of these people were Jason’s classmates. Fritz Keeler-I just saw him this morning, he and his brother, Mike, own the gas station-convenience store down past the intersection. Dustin Lafferty, he’s the boy who drove Jason home the night he disappeared. Eddie Franklin, he and Dustin and Chris all hung out together, they were all five or six years ahead of me. I mostly knew them because they had sisters I was friendly with.” She read to the bottom of the page, then looked at him. “What would you like to know?”

“Who should I start with?”

“I don’t think it matters, after all this time.” She shrugged. “Start at the beginning.”

“Can you check off the ones you know are still in the area?”

“Sure.”

He took a pen from the folder and handed it to her. She checked off fewer than a dozen names.

“Actually, I’d start with Fritz. He’d already heard about me hiring you, he asked about it this morning, so he’s a good person to start with. I think he’ll cooperate with you, answer whatever questions you ask.”

“Then we move Fritz to the head of the line.” He paused, tilted his head slightly, and asked, “Is that your phone?”

“It’s my cell. I’ll be right back.” She ran into the house and grabbed the phone.

“Lorna? It’s Regan.”

“Hey, Regan. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I was just wondering how you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I turned on the news in time to see the story, and I was wondering how you’re holding up.”

“The story?” Lorna’s stomach twisted. “Of course. The story. Shit. What are they saying?”

“After their big lead-in to The Body Farm?”

“Are you serious? Which channel?”

“Actually, all of the networks.”

“Damn it.” Lorna stalked outside, the phone still up to her ear. “What are they saying?”

“That the remains of four bodies…”

“Four? Oh, my God, they found another one? What the hell is going on? I’m assuming this one was also found on the section we sold off to a developer.”

“They did mention that work has stopped until the entire area has been searched.”

“Oh, swell,” Lorna grumbled. “I’ll never find a buyer for this place now.”

She put her hand over the phone and told T.J., “It’s Regan Landry. She’s watching the news. The press has dubbed this place ‘The Body Farm.’ ”

“Ask her if Mitch can find out if the FBI has been brought in yet.”

“T.J. wants you to ask Mitch if the FBI is on this yet.” She listened, then said, “Okay, that’s great. I’ll be here.”

She disconnected and slid the phone into her pocket.

“She’s going to call Mitch, then she’ll get back to me.” Lorna paced the porch to the far end. “Body Farm. That just stinks.” She made a face. “I should probably let this settle down before I put the house on the market, shouldn’t I?”

She paced a little more. “Or should I sell it quickly, before they find more bodies?”

“Have you spoken with a Realtor yet?”

“I haven’t had time. I’ve only been home a week.”

“You really want to sell this place?” His gaze started at the roadside fence and went right on back to the field. “It’s such a beautiful property. If I were looking for a place with some ground, I’d jump on it. It has charm, Lorna. It has history.”

“Unfortunately, most of which is buried.”

He laughed. “When was the house built?”

“My great-great-grandfather built it in 1853.”

“And it’s been in your family ever since?”

She nodded.

“Doesn’t it bother you to sell?”

“More and more, every day.” She looked past him to the barn. “My siblings and I agreed, after Mom died, to sell. I came here to get things in order, get the house cleaned out, get it on the market.”

“And then?”

“And then I go back to Woodboro, where I live. My business is there. My friends.” The words sounded tired now. She’d sung that song too many times the past week.

“What kind of business?”

“I’m a CPA. I do accounting for a number of small businesses.”

“You own your own business?” He smiled. “Very impressive. But who’s running it, while you’re here?”

“Well, I am. I had a computer network set up, I hook in with my clients and take it from there.”

“And your business isn’t suffering while you’re here?”

“Hasn’t skipped a beat.” She could see where the conversation was leading. “My life is there. I really don’t have one here anymore. My sister and her husband live in Oklahoma. They have very young children. She doesn’t want to sell. I think she has visions of bringing the kids back for summer vacations on the farm. Playing in the fields, swimming in the pond.”

“You have a pond?”

She nodded. “On the other side of the family burial plot.”

“Family burial plot, too?”

“Yes.”

“Any chance these last three bodies-”

She cut him off. “No. No chance. I was over there earlier, no sign of disturbance.”

“Are your parents buried there?”

“My dad is-though he’s not a Palmer, he lived here for most of his married life-and my mother is… partially. Sort of.”

“I have no idea what that means, ‘partially sort of buried.’ ”

“She was cremated. She wanted some of her ashes spread around in the family cemetery.” She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to ask where the rest of the ashes were going, but he was too polite. “She wanted to be in three places: the cemetery, with her parents and my dad; her garden; and around the pond. Her favorite places.”

“Is that why you were weeding the other night?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Not that garden. Mom wanted her ashes in her flower garden. But that’s so overgrown, I couldn’t do it. I don’t think she realized how the weeds would take over, with her having been gone the past two summers. I’ll get to it before I leave. At least, I hope I will. It meant a lot to her.”

“You said ‘siblings.’ I understand why your sister isn’t here to give you a hand, who else is there?”

“My brother, Rob.” She settled back in the chair and rocked for a long moment. “I had a really odd conversation with him just this morning. I asked him to come back and give me a hand-he’s between jobs right now-but he said the strangest thing. He said he’d left Callen for the last time when he was eighteen, and he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to come back now. Or words to that effect.”

“Did he have a hard childhood?”

“Robbie?” She laughed. “Please. He was the youngest, he was the only boy, and he was spoiled rotten. He was doted on by my grandmother like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Then maybe spoiled is the right word.”

“He was never bratty, at least, not that I remember. He’s seven years younger than I, though, so he was eleven when I left for college. I don’t know why he feels the way he does, but he was pretty insistent about not coming home. He wants me to sell everything, send him his share, and we’ll all go on with our own lives.”

She was waiting for him to comment, and when he didn’t, she said, “Selling would probably be best for everyone. Andrea and I together couldn’t buy out Robbie, so that’s that. And I don’t know how I’d support this place.”

“How did your mother do it?”

“She rented out the fields to another farmer.”

“Really?” His interest was instantaneous. “Is he still around?”

“Gil Compton, yes, he is.” She turned to look at him. “I see where you’re going. Maybe he saw something over the years, something or someone.”

“Maybe we should put him on the list of people to talk to.”

“It would. Good call. I wouldn’t have thought of him.”

“That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”

“Oh, right. We need to talk about that.” The phone in her pocket rang and she answered it right away. “Regan. Were you able to speak with Mitch?”

“I was. Unfortunately, the Bureau doesn’t have the case yet. As a matter of fact, no request has been made. His boss is going to call the county DA in the morning and offer assistance, but until that happens, he’s reluctant to get involved. There was a little fallout from the fax thing. Your police chief called the Bureau. Mitch got his hand slapped.”

“Ouch. I’m so sorry that happened. Please apologize to him for me.”

“He doesn’t blame you. He blames the cops for having put T.J. in that position in the first place. They know the law. They’re supposed to follow it.”

“Still…”

“Still nothing. The reports should have been handed over. They can charge for them, but not withhold them.”

A van pulled into the driveway. T.J. got up and walked down to meet it.

“There’s another damned reporter here,” Lorna said.

“That’s only going to get worse. I think you should call your police department and tell them that you need a car there to keep trespassers off the property.”

“Fat chance. No one there is speaking to me unless they have to.”

“Well, they have to. They can’t pick and choose who they’re going to protect. Hang up and call them.” Regan paused, then said, “Are you alone there?”

“Well, T.J. is here now, but he’ll be leaving.”

“Why don’t I drive up there and spend a few days, just till this blows over and something else takes its place on the news.”

“Drive up? Aren’t you in Princeton? Wouldn’t that be ‘drive down’?”

“My dad’s place is in Princeton. My house is on the Eastern Shore. Right around St. Michaels. I’m probably not an hour from you. Not a bad drive.”

“I thought you had a book due.”

“They moved it on the schedule, changed the publication date. I can take a little time off. What do you say? Want a roommate for a few days?”

“Actually, I’d love it. If you’re certain it’s not an imposition.”

“Hey, I offered. I want to. Give me directions from around Rising Sun.”

Lorna did.

“Piece of cake to find you,” Regan said. “I’m going to hang up and throw some clothes into an overnight bag, and then I’ll leave. In the meantime, call the police department. Make ’em earn your tax dollars.”

They each hung up, and Lorna stood to look down the drive. T.J. was still talking to whoever was in the van. Lorna was about to walk down to see what was going on when the van made a U-turn and took a left on Callen Road.

“What was that all about?” she asked T.J. as he approached the house.

“Network news, Wilmington affiliate. I told them the farmhouse was off-limits. Not that that will do any good.”

“Regan’s coming up to spend the night,” she told him. “She suggested I call the police and have them send a car to keep an eye on things.”

“I was going to suggest the very same thing. I’m not comfortable with you being here alone. Some of these people will go to ridiculous lengths to get their story. It’s better if the police are around and you have someone in the house with you. Call them now.”

“I don’t think my request will be well received.”

His jaw tightened. “Too bad. That’s their job. Go on, give them a call while I’m still here.”

She went into the house to look up the number and realized that it was well past the dinner hour. She should offer to feed T.J. She dialed the number for the station and peered into the refrigerator while the line rang. Lots of vegetables… eggs… seltzer. Somehow, T.J. didn’t look like the type of man you’d invite for quiche and sparkling water.

“Callen Police.”

She knew the voice.

“Brad?”

“Yes?”

“Lorna Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“Brad, I’m having a problem here, with reporters coming to the house.”

“And what would you like me to do about it?”

“I would like you, acting on behalf of my local police department, to send a car over to patrol the property during the night, more than just the quick drive-by you’ve been doing.”

“Need protection from a few reporters, do you?” He laughed. “Maybe you should call your friends at the FBI.”

“And what do you suppose the feds would say if I told them my local police department refused me protection when I felt threatened?”

A long, unpleasant silence followed.

“I’ll send Bobby Markham over.” He paused, then asked, “Will there be anything else?’

“No, thank you very much. I appreciate it, Officer Walker. Be sure to thank Chief Walker for me.”

She hung up, and grinning, walked back outside.

“They’re sending a car,” she told T.J. “I’m ordering pizza. What’s your preference?”