The Night Monster

CHAPTER 37

I walked outside the house. Officer Riski stood beneath the shade of a tree, talking with the driver of the CSI van. I handed Riski the stack of Polaroids I’d found.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Riski said.

“They jumped into my hand,” I said. “May I have your permission to watch the CSI team exhume the body?”

“Promise me you won’t get in the way,” Riski said.

“I won’t get in the way,” I said.

“You’re a lousy liar,” Riski said.

Soon I was sitting on a tree stump in the forest, watching the exhumation. The CSI team consisted of three men and one woman. Each member wore a plastic Tyvek suit that tied around their necks, goggles, a paper mask, and rubber gloves. Tyvek suits were the newest thing in preventing crime scene contamination, and reminded me of homemade Halloween costumes that kids used to wear.

Bolger’s grave had been marked off with white string. Using hand shovels, the CSI team dug up the earth and dropped it into a metal sifter. When something of interest was found, it was cleaned, put in an evidence bag, and tagged. It was tedious work, but I was determined to see it out. The way a killer disposes of a victim can tell an investigator many things, and I wanted to see Bolger’s body when it came out of the ground.

Three hours later, I got my wish.

A shovel hit bone. The team got on their knees, and removed the remaining dirt with their hands. Bolger’s body slowly became visible. It had been wrapped in plastic garbage bags, the tops tied together with wire. The team lifted Bolger out of the ground, and laid her gently down on blankets a few feet away.

The team’s captain was a soft-spoken detective named Christine Jowdy, who I’d worked with when I was on the force. Jowdy pulled a bottle of cheap cologne from her pocket and unscrewed the top.

“Who wants some?” Jowdy asked.

The other members of the team removed their surgical masks. Jowdy sprinkled cologne into each of the masks, then glanced up at me.

“Want to rub some over your lip?” Jowdy asked.

“No thanks,” I said.

“This could smell pretty bad.”

“I’m used to it.”

Jowdy shrugged and put the cologne away. She took a Swiss Army knife from her pocket and delicately cut away the plastic. To everyone’s surprise, Bolger’s body was swathed in blankets, and resembled an Egyptian mummy.

Bolger was photographed from a variety of different angles. It was starting to get late, and someone suggested getting lights to illuminate the grave area.

“If we move fast, we can beat the darkness,” Jowdy said.

Jowdy began to carefully cut away the blankets, which tore like paper. Bolger’s white shoes were the first thing I saw; then the skinless bones of her ankles; then her dress. White shoes. I inched closer as the rest became visible.

“You need to back up,” Jowdy said.

I was standing directly behind Jowdy, my feet glued to the ground.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Jowdy asked.

“Just let me see the rest,” I said quietly.

She glanced up at me, pissed. “What if I say no?”

“Come on. I found her.”

Jowdy let out an exasperated breath and cut away the remaining blankets. Bolger’s skeleton stared up at me. I tried to avoid looking at her face. She’d been buried in a white, ankle-length dress, and had her arms crossed in front of her chest. A plastic name tag was pinned to her shirt pocket. It said Daybreak Nurse.

Riski gave me a ride back to my Legend. He was one of the good guys, and went out of his way to call the police in the neighboring counties to see if the getaway vehicle had been spotted. So far, nothing.

Soon I was driving on 595 in my Legend. It was growing dark, and rush hour was starting to wane. The police department parking lot was empty as I pulled in.

I parked below Burrell’s office. The light was still on. Candy was like me in that regard. She lived the job. I called her on my cell.

“I was starting to worry about you,” Burrell said.

“It’s been a shitty day. I heard you scored a major drug bust.”

“We stepped in horseshit on that one. Any luck finding Sara Long?”

“I got close, but no cigar. I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to ask you this over the phone.”

“Where then?”

“I’m parked just outside.”

“Give me a minute.”

Sixty seconds later, Burrell emerged from the police station and slipped into my car. Her clothes were starting to look like she’d slept in them. I rolled up the windows.

“Why the secrecy?” Burrell asked.

“I want you to weasel your way into the police department stockade. There’s a section that houses the department records archive. Each year has its own box of records. Take out the box for 1990.”

“What am I looking for?”

“A file on a mental health facility called Daybreak.”

“Why do you want to see that?”

“The two guys who abducted Sara Long were patients there. The giant is named Lonnie. He’s six-foot-ten, and one of the scariest people I’ve ever seen. Yet somehow no one I spoke to would admit to knowing him.”

“Why would they lie?” Burrell asked.

“I’m guessing a superior told them to.”

“You make that sound routine.”

“That sort of thing used to be routine. My rookie year, the chief sent out a ‘No one dies during spring break’ memo. He ordered the cops and the coroner not to report any student deaths to the media until after spring break was over. And we didn’t.”

“Did any kids die?”

“A couple did. They got drunk and fell off hotel balconies.”

Burrell stared at the empty building and didn’t speak for a while. She came from a family of cops, and liked to think that cops were different.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll go to the stockade, and get the box. You want to come by, and look through the files with me?”

“I have to go to Broward General and check up on Karl Long,” I said. “I’ll call you when I’m done. Maybe we can hook up then.”

“Dinner’s on you,” she said.