Shattered Secrets (Cold Creek #1)(80)
“Abomination!”
Bright Star had materialized from nowhere as usual. No wonder people thought he was more spirit than flesh and blood.
“He just wondered what was growing under that since it is so different from the others,” Tess told him.
“It’s the graves of two blessed infants who have recently passed beyond, and I have county permits allowing us to bury them on our property. Long-established religious groups have their own cemeteries, and we shall too.”
Tess’s mind raced. Two infants? Or two dead girls? Surely not.
Below, Brother Lawrence was arguing with Vic, who ignored him and came limping back up the hill.
“Bright Star says it’s two infant graves,” she called to him before he reached them. “And he has permission from the county to have them buried there.”
“So I see—about the graves, since they have little stones with angels and lambs and names. All on the up-and-up, Mr. Monson?”
“I could report you for trespassing, sir, but that would have to be to Sheriff McCord, and I know you are a confederate of his.”
“That I am. So why hide the graves?”
“I ordered them covered, not hidden. It upset the grieving mothers and others of the flock to look down at them. It’s like an extra cover in the bed of the earth on a cold day or night.”
More like it upsets this man to have to admit babies could die in his supposedly perfect place, so he hides their graves, Tess thought. She wondered if they were born here or in a hospital.
“Miss Lockwood,” Monson said, turning to Tess. “Your family can certainly spend time with you alone tomorrow, at noon, if you’re available.”
Despite the fact that she’d told Gabe she’d try to help by answering the dispatch phone and covering the front desk until he could get some permanent help, she knew he would understand, and who knew what else she might learn about strange goings-on. “Yes,” she said to him. “I’ll be here.”
The man bowed, glared at Vic and walked away, followed by an out-of-breath but now subdued Brother Lawrence.
When they were back in Vic’s car, he said, “If Gabe wasn’t tied up, I’d phone him right now. I don’t like asking for court orders to exhume graves, but it may come to that. That guy’s arrogant, positive he can get away with anything. Like looking at the mayor, it’s a long shot, but desperate times need—”
“Desperate measures,” she finished for him. “Not Shakespeare this time?” she asked, hoping he’d calm down. His face was red and a pulse beat at the side of his forehead.
“‘Thus do all things conspire against us’ will have to do for Shakespeare right now.”
“But I am starting to recall more things about my captivity. You know I’ve recalled a graveyard view—but surely not that one. It’s true Brice Monson lived on this land years ago in a single house, but even a child wouldn’t mistake those long, plastic covers for tombstones. I remember the scarecrow for smackings, of course, and a back staircase in a house—and I’m sure there was a stag’s head over the fireplace.”
“Good for you and for us, Tess. Now all we need you to remember is a name or a face.”
*
Gabe was disheartened and angry. Marva hadn’t given him anything he could use and was insisting he solve “Dane’s dreadful murder.” As if the best defense was a good offense, she’d turned hostile toward him and Tess. Her lawyer had insisted the suicide note had nothing to do with the Cold Creek kidnapper cases. He also continually counseled Marva to “take the Fifth.” The whole situation made Gabe wish he could have a good, stiff belt from a fifth of whiskey, even this early in the morning.
And now he was late heading to the library to hear what Miss Etta had to say about the pistol that killed Dane.
As he headed toward the library, Gabe saw several posters about the search for Sandy he’d help spearhead this afternoon. Jace was at the church helping the civilian organizers lay out grids for the volunteer teams to cover. There was a poster on the library door above an Open sign and one that read Come in and Change Your Life! If only that was true, he thought as he opened the door.
Miss Etta was shelving books from a rolling cart as two women he recognized were browsing the shelves. “Good. You came,” Miss Etta whispered when she saw him. “One can’t expect a busy sheriff to be prompt, and that’s quite all right. Would you like some hand sanitizer?” she asked as she walked over to her desk to use it herself. “One can’t be too careful with flu season coming.”
“Ah, sure,” he said, letting her pump some of the cool gel onto his hands. “Thanks for researching about the antique pistol.”
“First of all, please tell me, how is Tess?” she said, taking a book from her desk over to a long wooden table. “Just let me know if you need help, ladies,” she said to the two patrons.
Gabe sat in the chair beside her. The heavy oak furniture all looked antique, though the overhead lighting was modern and bright. There was an air of solidity about the place. As flighty as she seemed sometimes, this woman suited the place. She seemed unchanged over time, the bedrock of the community in a way Reese Owens would never be. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer about Tess, then added, as if to prompt him, “I recommended some books on childhood trauma she’s been reading. I hope they help.”