Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(26)

There’d been a long pause on the phone. “I might have a permanent job for you.”

Gerald had been interested in the job. He’d done it well for over two decades now and wasn’t about to let his employer down again. He knew when he’d kept the boys that his employer wasn’t going to be happy, so he didn’t tell him. His boss had been royally pissed that so many children had been affected when only one needed attention.

Gerald had shrugged. “I handled it the way I saw best. You needed fast action and you got it. No witnesses to anything. Plus, it confuses the motive. With so many kids gone, who was the primary target? Or was there a mass target? It’ll keep the police scratching their heads for years.”

After that his boss had no complaints about his job. He’d been impressed for two years when no evidence of the missing children had been found. No sign of the bus or the driver anywhere. His boss had never asked for details about how he’d accomplished the feat.

Then Chris Jacobs had walked out of the woods. Half dead, no memory, and miles from the underground bunker.

His boss had nearly blown a gasket. But when he learned of the boy’s brain damage, he relaxed a bit. At that point, he grilled Gerald on the fates of the other children and then relaxed a bit more.

Gerald had been crazy to hang on to the two boys for as long as he did, but they’d fueled his soul in a way that adults never did.

Now Jamie Jacobs was proving to be a challenge.

He watched the line of vehicles snaking through the drive-through, reliving the events of that morning. Jamie was the type of woman who made men turn around and watch as she walked by. He hadn’t been with a woman in over a month now, and he could still feel the silkiness of her skin from this morning. He shifted in his seat.

He needed to get laid.

He had a list of phone numbers of women who weren’t too expensive. Damn it. Every woman on that list belonged in Walmart, and he was craving Saks Fifth Avenue.

Gerald’s phone vibrated in his car console. He popped it open and scowled at the screen. Already? He’s asking for an update already? Shit. He hit the green button.

“Yeah.”

“What the f*ck happened this morning? What did you do? There are cops crawling all over the Jacobs house.”

Gerald’s chest tightened. An adult bully. Gerald overlooked it because he knew it meant his boss was sweating a bit. And he liked the pleasure from putting his boss in that situation.

He had control. Not his boss.

“I was looking for a lead on her brother. You knew that. I didn’t expect her to come home so fast. She might have got a bit banged up on my way out.”

He wasn’t about to mention that the woman had neatly handed his ass to him.

“What’d you find?”

“I’ve got a stack of paperwork and mail to look through. A couple of address books, too.” He lied.

“I got something that’ll work a bit faster for you.”

“Like what?”

“Michael Brody, a reporter, is showing an unnatural interest in Jamie Jacobs.”

“I figured he was watching the story pretty close because of his brother, but you mean a personal interest in the woman?” Gerald’s gut twisted in an odd way. Something about Brody and Jamie together didn’t sit right with him.

“Exactly. A personal interest. And I know this guy. When he’s got his nose deep in a story, nothing gets in his way. He’s gonna dig until he unearths Chris Jacobs.”

“You want me to wait and follow him?”

“See? You’re smart. That’s why I hired you. Other than the one big f*ck-up way back, you usually pull things through.”

Gerald swallowed the bitter words he wanted to hurl at the man. “You know me best, boss.”

“Damn right. And don’t ever forget I own your ass.”

Ditto.



“You want to explain to me what you’re doing in the damned bull’s-eye of this case?”

“Not my fault,” Michael said into his phone. Detective Mason Callahan could bitch all he wanted, but Michael knew the man held a grudging respect for him. And vice versa.

“I could swear I told you to stay away from the Jacobs woman.”

Michael ignored him. “They told you he beat her up pretty good?”

“Yeah, she okay?”

“She will be.” Michael leaned against the fender of his truck, twisting to catch sight of Jamie. She still sat on her lawn, the Mylar blanket next to her on the grass, trying to recall the tats she’d seen. A cop handed her a bottled water and squatted beside her as she sketched, studying her drawing.

“I was told the attacker wanted to know the whereabouts of Chris Jacobs. And that he told her he’d made the scars on her brother’s face.”

“That’s right,” said Michael. “And threatened to do the same to her.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s the one who actually made the marks on her brother. It was even in newspaper articles back then that the boy had been burned with cigarettes,” Callahan stated.

Michael didn’t have an answer for that.

“What reason could he have to want her brother if it’s not because Chris might get some of his memory back and identify him?” Michael argued.

“Maybe he owes him money,” Callahan quipped.