Buried Secrets, page 7
It was also why she held a private-investigator’s license. From the moment she’d realized Antony wasn’t coming back, she’d vowed to find him, and becoming a PI turned out to be the best way to do it. That she discovered she happened to be damned good at it, an unanticipated bonus. Not quite the job popular media portrayed, though, and not nearly as glamorous. Often downright dangerous. None of it turned her away. She made a decent living at something interesting and challenging, and she would ultimately find Anthony because of it.
Her phone chirped, announcing an incoming text. She shook her head as she read it. One of those not-so-glamorous things about her chosen profession. The text read, “I’m going to kill you, bitch.” Not the first threat she’d received, and not even the first death threat. Funny how folks who got caught with their pants down, literally speaking, and were held accountable, pointed the finger at her. Their lives imploded, and they viewed her as the responsible party.
This latest grump, one Natalie Hinchcliff, did have a great deal to lose. As in millions. She didn’t like the fact that her soon-to-be ex-husband had hired Addie to prove her infidelity. She sure hadn’t presented much of a challenge. After two whole nights of surveillance, she provided William Hinchcliff with enough evidence to blow any chance Natalie might have had for disputing the prenup. Her own behavior would block her from any significant cash award in the dissolution. Poor little Natalie would leave the marriage with exactly what she’d brought into it. A big, fat nothing.
Addie forwarded the text to Mary, who would use her wizardry to track the IP address before reporting it all to the police department. The threats always faded away after a little chat with a badge-carrying detective, and honestly, after the initial rush of anger at getting caught, most had bigger things to worry about than the investigator who documented their transgressions. She didn’t give a lot of credence to the attempted intimidation, not too much anyway. Only a fool would ignore them completely, and she prided herself on not being a fool. Each threat, whether received in person, by telephone, mail, or text, got reported to the appropriate agency.
The text handled, she continued her walk while thinking about Anthony. He’d love where she’d ended up and the path she’d decided to follow. He’d been the analytical one, and his undergrad studies in forensic anthropology would have taken him a long way. She’d envisioned him earning a doctorate in the field, then using it for research and to help identify the lost and forgotten. He’d been fascinated by bones and the secrets they could reveal. Another reason she knew he’d never just up and disappear. He’d had mountains to conquer and the lost to find.
In fact, she’d helped him research graduate programs to enter after he completed his undergrad degree at U of W. A great program in Texas and another in North Carolina. He’d been talking to her about his graduate-school applications, and they’d spent hours studying information on the various programs. These days, he would have been able to look at the forensic-investigation station at Colorado Mesa University too. Once when she’d been passing through Grand Junction, Colorado, they happened to be holding a three-day, K9 human-remains-detection seminar. She’d gotten the chance to sit in on the seminar. Fascinating, although it made her sad Anthony couldn’t be there too. He’d have loved every minute of it. The dogs, the bones, the science.
How law enforcement could let his case go glacial baffled her. The total disappearance didn’t jive with his plans, yet nobody wanted to listen to any of that. She’d been a kid with a mother higher than a kite every time they came by to talk, and that’s all they noticed. Their mother might have been a chemically-dependent flake, but Addie had been the voice of reason, even back then. None of them took Addie, the kid, seriously. They still didn’t, even though she’d proved herself over and over to be skilled and competent. Long before earning her license, she’d resigned herself to the reality that she’d have to find Anthony by herself. Big surprise. She did everything by herself. Easier that way. As much as she leaned on Mary and Conchita, a little part of her still held back. She’d learned eons ago not to depend on anyone. In the end, they always let her down.
Leaving the road, she hiked into the trees. Her research revealed that the land she walked across now belonged to a family that had owned it for at least a hundred years. In fact, at one time, they’d owned most of the area known as Hunters. They’d sold some of the land, deeded some to public entities, and retained hundreds of acres they’d worked for generations. Horses, mainly, which fascinated her. Growing up, she’d loved horses, but her mother couldn’t be trusted with animals. Her grandfather, with enough money to own a small country, didn’t want to be bothered. Being a part-time parent to her and Anthony appeared to be the upper level of his caretaking abilities. Bad enough he had to take care of them. He wouldn’t be burdened with animals too.
“Anthony, talk to me,” she whispered as she moved deeper into the trees, her fingers tingling. “I feel you, and I need you to help me.”
The wind picked up, and the air suddenly grew cool. Overhead, dark clouds blotted out the blue sky and sunshine. A storm brewed. She could smell it and loved it. As a child, she’d grab a raincoat and rush outside when the skies opened up. Her mother hated it because more than once she’d ended up with a hell of a cold. Mother didn’t like anything that caused her to deviate from her routine of morning coffee, with Irish crème, the leaded kind, and afternoons of vodka, along with God knows what else. A sick child took her away from her chosen activities, and Valerie didn’t miss an opportunity to let a sick child know they were a disruption. Childcare never factored into her chosen activities.
Raindrops kissed her skin, cool and wet, and she smiled. Her weather app had showed a day clear and mild. “Are you here?” In her mind, the wetness falling on her cheeks was directly from Anthony as he reached out to her. Only he would know that through the rain would be the best way to touch her.
She caught it in her palm. “I can’t do this without you anymore.” All of a sudden, the years weighed on her, the loneliness crushing. “You were the only one who really loved me, and when you left, the rug got pulled out from under me, you know?” Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes, falling down her cheeks to mix with the cool raindrops. The first time in ages she’d given in to emotion. What did that say? She edged ever closer to the truth? How she hoped so.
Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she continued to walk through the ever-thickening trees, the rain passing. Message delivered. Message received. She touched one of the pines she started to pass by, its trunk bowed toward the ground as though the wind bent it but couldn’t break it. As her fingertips made contact with the rough bark and the lacy green filaments of wolf moss, everything went dark.
* * *
October folded the jeans and placed them on top of the other pairs resting in the blue suitcase in the back of the trunk. He patted them once, smiled, closed the case, and spun the lock. The collection had grown over the years—different cuts, different colors, and many different sizes. All precious. In the beginning it hadn’t occurred to him that his work would result in a compilation of history of the denim variety. Simply a personal quirk that had appealed to him. An easy way to keep memories close. Every now and then the unintended resulted in something magic.
Magical defined his work in the best possible way. The energy it gave him fueled all his worlds, whether he romanced a man as Rob or made the art world swoon as the mysterious and talented Tobe. Made him stand above all others no matter what. A hundred times, or more, he’d been asked how he gained such prestige, where he got his talent. He’d never really known how to answer those questions or, at least, how to answer in ways the plebian society could understand. He operated on a different plane of existence, and few could follow how any of his worlds or the many facets of his life had evolved. They’d never grasp the complexities of what brought him to these heights. So he didn’t bother to try to explain himself.
The folded pair of jeans he’d just put in his trunk was more than a trophy. He hated that term. Some intellectual in his handsomely appointed office had come up with it while never truly comprehending what it meant. At a cerebral level, he got it. From an emotional standpoint, he didn’t. Far more complicated and important than some pencil-pusher could or would ever understand.
Closing the trunk on his case of treasures, he got back behind the wheel and pulled onto the freeway. With his fun interlude over, the time to continue the drive east had arrived. His itch scratched, he now could look forward to the journey ahead with much more ease. Been a long time since he’d felt this free, and his shoulders relaxed, his grip easy on the steering wheel. He tapped his fingers in rhythm to the music of the rock station he’d tuned into. Times they were a-changing, and he was all in.
When his phone rang, he hit the button on the steering wheel, even though he didn’t recognize the number that popped up on the screen. “Yeah.”
The background noise made it hard to recognize the voice. A buzz reminiscent of the old landline days and a really bad connection. “I’m coming for you.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m coming for you.”
“Look, fucker, tell me who this is, or I’m ending the call.”
“I’m coming for you.”
The guy’s lack of originality landed on his last good nerve. “Fuck off.”
“You’re going to die.”
Something familiar tweaked at the back of his mind. Like he’d heard that voice before. He squinted, as if that would make it easier to hear through the background noise. “Who is this?”
“You’re going to die.” The line went dead.
Chapter Eight
“What the hell?” Tuesday raced after Tripper, who’d just taken off running like a wild man. To ignore her recall command and keep going without even a tiny pause went against all of his training. Seriously not like him. The dog boasted a perfect recall, and the fact that he disregarded her now poked a giant hole in his perfect-recall reputation. It also had her hauling ass behind him.
For Tripper to take initiative like that, he had a good reason. Part of his training had been to problem-solve, and she believed that skill had him tearing through the trees right now. Thankfully, she didn’t have to run long to catch up with him, the pounding of her feet against the hard earth traveling into her shoulder like bolts of lightning, her chest heaving, her lungs burning. A relief when it stopped. Not so thankfully, she found Tripper next to an unconscious woman lying prone on the pine-needle-strewn ground. She moved on instinct, dropping down next to the woman, a dozen years of first-aid-certification lessons kicking in. Amazing how muscle memory took over in an emergency. Didn’t need to tap on critical-thinking skills when years of training, tucked away and waiting for the right moment, surged to the forefront.
She first tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello, hello, can you hear me? I’m Tuesday, and I’m here to help you.” Nothing. Not even a twitch.
Next, she checked her pulse. Strong and steady. A very good sign. If not for the fact that the woman didn’t open her eyes either when she spoke to her or when she gently shook her, she’d think her sleeping. The frightening part came with the why. Something was wrong here that she couldn’t detect, and the very real possibility existed that if she moved her, she could do more, if not irreparable, damage. Not worth the risk.
Tuesday rocked back on her feet and tried to think through hours and hours of first-responder training. Then the “duh” hit her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and punched in 9-1-1. Before she could hit Send , the woman moaned. Her eyelids fluttered, and then eyes the color of dark chocolate stared up at her.
She forgot the call. “Are you okay? How can I help you? What happened? What’s your name?” Tuesday couldn’t help it. Even after all her training, the stress of finding a woman out cold on the ground had her babbling. Real impressive.
She blinked several times as if she worked to focus. “It’s you.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “You’re here.”
“What?” She’d never seen her before, so what did that mean? Not that she expected to know or even recognize anyone around here these days. She’d been gone too long. Chances were that those she’d known growing up wouldn’t look the same, and those who’d moved here in the intervening years were strangers.
“I can’t believe it. It’s you.” She blinked a few more times.
Well, they were getting nowhere fast. Maybe she’d hit her head hard when she’d fallen? Head injuries could cause confusion. “Yeah, you said that already. What exactly do you mean about me? We’ve never met.” She’d remember if they’d crossed paths.
Her dark eyes held Tuesday’s gaze. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.”
“What the fuck?” For someone who rarely swore, that “fuck” rolled right off her tongue like water over the falls.
* * *
Addie blinked hard half a dozen times more, her heart pounding. Rocks bit into her shoulders, and pines needles poked through her shirt. By the feel of things, definitely going to be some bruises. The biggest surprise wasn’t that she lay sprawled out on the ground or that she’d be battered and bruised from dropping onto hard earth and rocks. No, the shocker came when she opened her eyes to see the face she’d been dreaming about for a good ten years. Strong features framed by dark-blond hair and big green eyes. A face she’d dreamed of so many times, she could draw it from memory.
Addie pushed up, a whoosh making her head swim for several seconds. Her stomach rolled, and the queasiness almost made her throw up. Exactly how hard had she hit her head when going down? Thankfully, it passed and her vision steadied. She didn’t embarrass herself any more than she already had by passing out in the middle of the woods.
The familiar face remained in front of her, staring into her eyes with a look that said she wasn’t quite sure Addie was all there. “I’ve seen you.” A lame explanation. Maybe she wasn’t all there, given she didn’t seem to be able to explain herself with even a whisper of clarity.
“We’ve never met.” Her voice was deep, her face lovely, her eyes intense and puzzled. Couldn’t blame her. While she might have recognized her, there’d be no way she’d know Addie. First time she’d ever been here. Passed through Spokane a time or two on the way to Idaho and Montana. Her first time driving the highways that took her this particular direction. This place called Hunters that, until recently, she’d never heard of.
“No, we haven’t.” She should get to her feet. For some unexplainable reason, she preferred sitting here on the bumpy ground staring into those fascinating eyes.
“Okay, seriously, you must have hurt yourself because you make no sense at all.”
“Probably not.” If she wanted her to stay, she better start coming up with something that made some sort of sense.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You should wait for me to call the EMTs. You may have a concussion.”
Now she put her hands down, intending to push herself up. “No, no, no. I don’t need an EMT, and I’m not hurt.” Bruised and a little battered, sure. A concussion? No. Her thoughts were becoming clearer by the second.
The woman put a hand on her arm, warm and reassuring. “Look, you were unconscious when Tripper found you. I’m certified in wilderness first aid but definitely not an EMT. It would be a really good idea to get checked out by medical professionals. Better safe than sorry.”
“Tripper?” She looked around and only then noticed a good-sized German shepherd sitting quietly behind the woman, his dark eyes on her face. Big and handsome, and yet not threatening in any way.
“My dog.” She leaned back and ran a hand over his head. He kept his gaze on Addie.
“Got that.” She might have hit her head when she fell, but not enough to cause the kind of damage that made one fail to recognize a dog.
A little smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and her gaze softened. Clearly, this dog meant a lot to her. “He’s not just a dog.”
“Okay.” Pretty much looked like one to her. “And that would be why?”
“He’s a fully trained and certified human-remains-detection dog.” Heavy pride in her words.
That did make him a lot more interesting than a family pet. Also brought up a more interesting question that even a blackout didn’t cause her to miss. “So, let me get this straight. Your dog finds the remains of deceased people.”
“Yes.” She leaned into him. “He does, and he is very good at it.”
“And he found me.” Hadn’t hit her head hard enough to prevent her from connecting the dots.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Addie connected them all. “So, that means I’m dead?”
* * *
Rain started coming down hard as October drove east. Irritating. He’d hoped for a dry, sunny drive, and this wasn’t what he’d envisioned. Especially after such a pleasant afternoon. Well, pleasant enough except for the weird phone call. Still trying to figure out the identity of the asshole. Probably thought he was funny. He’d be wrong. He tightened his jaw tightened and narrowed his eyes as he focused on the road. Better to not dwell on the call. He’d figure it out sooner or later, and probably sooner if he quit trying so hard to connect the voice with a name.
The wipers strained to keep up with the barrage of rain. This wasn’t going to work for him. Not into limited visibility and semi-trucks spraying water all over his car. No need to stress himself out. Plenty of time to get to Hunters without messing with this crap. He took the first chance to find a decent hotel. With his blinker on, he pulled off I-90 at Cle Elum. Quick drive on the north side of town to the resort high-end enough to suit him. A popular place, but he secured a room that worked for him. The hotel deserved its good rating. At least so far. It remained to be seen if it also warranted the steep per-night charge.
He pressed a fifty into the bellman’s palm with a slow, deliberate touch. The young man’s eyes met his with an ever-so-slight raise of an eyebrow. Message delivered and received. He walked out of the suite, slipping the bill into his pocket, a backward glance as he pulled the door shut.
