A Deeper Grave

Bobbie’s instincts nudged her. “This is very important, Sage. Can you remember what day this happened?” She found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Monday. Mrs. Snodgrass does the grocery shopping on Mondays. I was supposed to be at school.” He shrugged skinny shoulders. “There was a big test and I forgot to study.”

“So you decided to stay home?” Bobbie understood that feeling. After her mother died, she’d felt the need to hide from the big things like a test at school and the birthday party down the street. Her mother had always taken her homemade cookies to neighborhood parties. Bobbie hadn’t wanted to tell anyone who asked that her mother couldn’t bring cookies because she was buried in the graveyard by the church.

“But, Sage,” his aunt protested, “you’ve always made honor roll. You’ve never been afraid of a test.” Marla looked to Bobbie and shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Has someone at school been bothering you?” Bobbie remembered that part, too. Kids could be so damned cruel. Who you gonna tell, Bobbie Sue? Your momma’s dead. She could imagine the things said to Sage about his parents considering the exploits the news channels and social media had been reporting. His mother had likely been called a whore and his father a thief. The image of the letters painted on their foreheads swarmed in front of Bobbie’s eyes. Poor kid. The trouble had just begun for him and his sister—if she was still alive.

Sage nodded, but kept his gaze lowered. “Jacob Cook was calling my mom names. That’s why my sister was fighting with his sister all the time. A bunch of people were being mean to her and me.” He looked up at his aunt. “Is that why she ran away?”

A hit of adrenaline detonated in Bobbie’s veins. “Do you think your sister wanted to run away?”

Sage shrugged his skinny shoulders. “She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said she’d take care of me if our parents went to prison. I guess she changed her mind.”

Bobbie and Marla exchanged a look. “Don’t worry about your sister. I’m certain she didn’t run away from you. We’ll find her,” his aunt promised.

Bobbie gave him a nod and a promise of her own. “That’s right and I’ll make sure Jacob Cook never bothers you again.” She had a feeling Fern’s recent behavior was not about drugs or some other self-destructive behavior. It was survival for her and her brother. “Tell me about what happened on Monday.”

“I was in my room building a Lego fort when I heard someone in the kitchen. I thought my mom had come home for lunch so I sneaked into the attic. I knew I’d be in big trouble.” His eyes grew rounder with each word.

“Are you sure it wasn’t your mom?” Bobbie’s pulse hammered with mounting anticipation. The sooner they had a break in this case the better. One theory was that the killer had staged the scene to muddle the investigation. If that wasn’t the case and this copycat was a serial killer, they could have more bodies all too soon, Fern Parker’s being one of them.

Sage nodded. “It was a man. He came into my parents’ room. I could hear him.”

“Could you see him?” Bobbie held her breath.

Sage shook his head no. “I only know it was a man ’cause I heard him cussing. He said bad words.”

Bobbie asked, “Did his voice sound like your father’s or like mine?”

“You’re a woman,” he said with a frown. “His voice sounded like my dad’s, but it wasn’t my dad. He said stuff like this—shit, damn it!” he repeated in an extra deep voice, and then he winced. “Sorry, but that’s what he said.”

“That’s okay,” Bobbie assured him. “Anything you tell me will be a big help. Are you certain you didn’t see him in your parents’ room?”

The boy nodded. The killer may have been laying out his game plan. Since the Seppuku Killer had murdered victims whom he considered to have shamed themselves, the Parkers’ recent notoriety was likely the motive for their murders. But what about Fern? There was no record of an abduction or a child victim in the Seppuku case. Not that Bobbie had found, anyway. Copycats often deviated somewhat from the original MOs but this one was quite a giant step. The range of vile things the killer may have done to Fern checked off in Bobbie’s head, made her stomach knot. Don’t let that girl be dead.

Sage jumped. Bobbie snapped her attention back to the present and followed his gaze to the door. The agent had returned and he and the MPD uniform were talking to a man in a white coat. She recognized the pediatrician in the lab coat and her heart rose into her throat. Charles Upchurch. Dr. Upchurch had been her little boy’s doctor.

She steeled herself for the encounter. She couldn’t keep avoiding the people who had known her before. “Don’t worry, Sage. Dr. Upchurch is a friend of mine. I know him really well. You don’t have to be afraid. Okay?”

The boy nodded, still looking uncertain.

“Have your aunt call me if you remember anything else. It’s really important that you do, okay?”

Sage nodded again, this time with obvious eagerness.

“Call me if you need anything,” Bobbie said to the aunt.

Since Marla already had Bobbie’s cell number, she moved into the corridor to speak with Dr. Upchurch. The hospital needed to ensure Sage was cared for by females for the duration of his stay and MPD would have to get female officers here to keep him secure. The more comfortable he was, the more likely he would remember something that might help the case.

Upchurch recognized her and smiled. “Bobbie, it’s good to see you.” He thrust out his hand. “How is...?” His voice trailed off and his expression fell as his mind filled in the events of the past year.

“Good to see you, too, Doctor.” She gave his hand a shake, then jerked her head toward the room. “Sage is having some anxiety with male strangers. I assured him he was safe with you, but...just so you know.”

“Got it.” Upchurch nodded. “I’ll see that the rest of his stay is comfortable. We’re running a few more tests just to be sure he’s okay. He vomited a couple of times last night but those incidents may have been related to anxiety.”

“Let me know,” Bobbie urged.

When the doctor remarked that she looked well, Bobbie thanked him and excused herself. She stepped a few feet away from the room and made the call to Lieutenant Owens to bring her up to speed on the Parker boy’s needs and what he’d told her. A female officer would replace the one on duty ASAP. After ensuring the officer on duty understood the new arrangements, Bobbie couldn’t get out of the hospital quickly enough. She took the stairs and headed for the maintenance exit to avoid the reporters loitering in the visitors’ parking lot. Plowing through the crowd and fending off their questions would be pointless. She had nothing she was authorized to share just yet. Fern’s picture was in every paper, on the internet and on the television news. Hotlines had been set up for callers who might have seen or heard anything useful. Marla Lowery had gone on the local news and offered an urgent plea for help as well as a reward for any information about her niece.

As true as it was that the passing hours lessened the likelihood of finding Fern still breathing, Bobbie intended to stay focused on the idea that she was alive out there somewhere and needed to be found.

Her right leg protested the hustle down the flights of stairs. The pain was a consistent reminder that she was lucky to be alive. She opened the door into the morning sun and headed across the asphalt to where she’d parked her car amid the vehicles belonging to hospital employees. The man leaning against her Challenger stopped her in her tracks and very nearly stopped her heart.

Nick Shade. The stranger who’d made such an impact on her at a time when she believed her life was over.

The blue button-down shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up his muscled forearms, the well-worn jeans hugged his body. He wore black work boots as usual. His dark hair was a little shorter, not quite touching his collar now. The way he watched her as she approached startled her all over again, the same way it had the first time they met. There was just something about those dark eyes...as if he could see her thoughts, could sense her feelings.

“Good morning, Detective.”

That voice. His voice had haunted her well before he showed up at her door to tell her to stay out of his way in the hunt for the Storyteller. She hadn’t known at the time, but he had visited her in the hospital while she was in a coma recovering from her first encounter with the Storyteller. She’d been at her worst, refusing to fight for her life. She’d wanted to die. Come back, Detective Gentry. His words had somehow drawn her back to the land of the living.

She smiled, couldn’t help herself. “Morning.” What was he doing here? She hadn’t gotten around to calling him. “You’re about the last person I expected to run into today.”

He straightened away from her car. “We need to talk. Do you have a few minutes?”

Devine was back at CID lining up today’s interviews. She had a few minutes. “Sure.”

“Take a ride with me.”

She nodded. “All right.” He led the way to a midsize black Chevrolet truck. Beyond the illegal tint on the windows, the vehicle was fairly nondescript. “What happened to your car?”

He opened the passenger-side door for her. “I trade frequently.”

She opted not to mention that the routine was in all probability a smart move considering he hunted serial killers using methods that skirted the law more often than not. “Where’re we going?”

He slid behind the wheel. “No place in particular.”

As he pulled away from the hospital’s rear parking she studied his profile. Nick Shade was an attractive man and...as damaged as she was. He, too, had survived a ruthless serial killer—his own father. She doubted either of them would ever have a normal life. At least she had experienced a glimpse of what a real life was supposed to be. She would cherish those memories the rest of her days.

Would Nick ever allow himself to have that?

“You look good.”

His deep voice drew her back to the present. “Thanks.” It had taken her a long while to be able to accept a compliment. “You, too.”

Silence settled between them as he drove. Back in August they’d spent a lot of time exactly like this, driving and hoping they would find a lead that would break the Storyteller case. Nick had been there for her during those shattering days before and after her partner’s death. God she missed Newt.