Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(76)

He dialed the boss’s cell again. Voice mail.

His gut burned.

The passenger in his trunk pounded with her feet. Thank goodness it was dark and there was virtually no traffic on the highway. He’d pull over and check her soon. As long as she kept kicking, it meant she wasn’t dead.

It’d been a fast decision. After seeing Jamie Jacobs on TV and not knowing where to find Chris Jacobs, he figured he’d go back to the woman. At the very least, he had a gorgeous woman at his disposal. At the best, he had a lead to her brother.

When he’d seen Michael Brody stroll out of the bed-and-breakfast and down the street to the diner, he decided he had a few minutes. He circled the block once, spotted the gate in the alley, and searched for the phone number for the bed-and-breakfast. He’d planned to simply pose as her brother and tell her he needed some money. Even if she’d refused to give him money, he guessed she’d at least want to see him in person. It’d been obvious they didn’t see each other. But when she asked about Brian, he’d known he had the perfect bait.

He’d hit her hard with the ax handle.

At first, he’d worried that he’d hit too hard. She’d collapsed instantly at his feet, a limp puddle of woman. But Jamie’s pulse had stayed strong, so he tied her hands and dumped her in the trunk.

He’d done that once. Hit a victim so hard that he hadn’t woken up. That’d been a waste of time and effort. He’d added the body to the hole in the woods along with his other victims. It’d been such a great hiding site.

A few miles out of Demming, he’d stopped and tied Jamie’s feet and taped her mouth. She’d still been unconscious but breathing fine.

Some muffled screams came from the trunk, and he turned up the radio.

He could still feel the vibrations from her kicking in the trunk. It’d been nearly thirty minutes since he’d bound her feet. He shifted in his seat. It had to be hot in the trunk. A corpse in his trunk wasn’t going to do him any good. Maybe he should check the temperature in there. He’d been blasting the air conditioner, but that wasn’t going to stop Jamie from overheating.

The center console…

Ha! Gerald cheered up. He could access the trunk through the center of the backseat. If he lowered the console in back, that would put some cold air circulation into the trunk. A road sign indicated five miles until a rest stop. He’d find a quiet corner and check on his passenger.

Jamie chose that second to go silent.

The car’s speed crept up to seventy-five. He’d be at the rest stop in a few minutes, and he could—

Red and blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror.

What the f*ck?

Gerald’s brain circuitry hit overtime. They’d found him. They’d seen him grab her. They knew he’d killed the children. They knew he’d killed the Mexican and the teenager.

His brain wouldn’t stop firing off the panic messages. He looked down the deserted highway, and a brief thought of outrunning the cop car dashed through his head. Impossible. Those vehicles have amazing engines.

He studied his mirror. Only one police car. And he had been speeding a minute ago. He slowed and turned on his blinker.

Pull over. Be polite.

He wished he was armed. He’d left the Jacobs gun at the teen boy’s death scene. Usually he carried two handguns, but tonight he had none. If he had to, he could take this officer down once he got out of the car.

Gravel crackled under his tires as he left the pavement and pulled to a stop. For a brief second, he thought the officer was going to pass him. Instead, the navy-blue car stopped close behind him. The ultimate in dorky hats was visible through the windshield. State police. No one else wore those wide-brimmed hats.

His trunk was silent.

What if she’d kicked out a light? Was there a foot hanging out the back of his car? Sweat poured off his temples. Gerald lowered his window and reached over to the glove box for his car-rental agreement. He looked in the rearview mirror. The trooper was still in his seat. Probably running his plates and calling in his location. That was okay. It would come back as a rental. And it didn’t matter if he ran this driver’s license. This identity was clean. He didn’t even have a speeding ticket.

Until now. Hopefully, that was all he was getting.

The trooper was suddenly at his window. “Evening sir. License and registration please.”

Gerald handed over the items. “I was going a little fast back there, wasn’t I? It’s a rental car. Here’re the papers.” He listened hard for any sounds coming from the trunk. It was silent.

Was Jamie passed out? Or dead? He needed to check the trunk. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his ears.

The trooper looked over his license. “No, Mr. Bennett. I pulled you over for cell phone use. You passed me a few miles back while talking on your cell phone.”

Relief, amusement, anger, and disbelief shot through Gerald. “Seriously? The call didn’t even go through.”

The trooper’s lips twitched. “Well sir, the law doesn’t care if you didn’t get connected or if someone hung up on you. I saw your phone at your ear. I’ll be right back.” He paused, taking a sharper look at Gerald. “You alright, sir?”

Gerald touched his cheekbone where the Mexican had whacked him with the rebar. “Pretty nasty, isn’t it? Dropped my bar and weights on my face while bench-pressing today. That’s the last time I don’t use a spotter.”