The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(82)

“So you went to Maryland,” Josie said.

“I waited in the backseat of Bridges’ car one morning. When he got in, I held a gun to his head and told him to drive to a nearby riverbank. Then I made him get out and walk partway into the river. I—I held him under it until he died and let his body go.”

“But you kept his belt buckle,” Josie said. “And you brought it back to Pennsylvania and gave it to Colette. What did you tell her?”

“I told her it belonged to Bridges and whatever she was doing, she needed to stop. I told her that Sutton had had Bridges killed, and she would be next if she didn’t let it go. That’s when she told me what she had found—the massacre at the encampment, she called it. I had no idea until she told me.”

“But you convinced her to keep quiet,” Josie said. “How?”

His chin dropped to his chest. “Her children were young. She was terrified for them. I promised to do what I could to protect her, but I told her that Sutton would have me killed and replaced in a heartbeat if he thought I had failed to shut her up. I convinced her that the best thing for her family was to keep quiet.”

“And just like that, she did?”

He nodded. “She had young children. She couldn’t put them in danger. It was difficult for her, but she had to protect her family.”

“Except that in 1999 she tried to expose Sutton again,” Josie said. “She met with Samuel Pratt, an archaeology professor at Denton University. He had studied mass graves all over the world. She wanted to see if he would do a dig near the quarry. Exposing the grave without exposing her. It would have been an incidental finding. How did Sutton find out?”

“He didn’t,” Ivan said quietly. “He didn’t know about Samuel Pratt—or about his brother.”

Josie looked over at Gretchen who gave a barely perceptible shrug. Josie turned back to Ivan. “But you knew about him. How?”

His eyes glistened with tears. “I was in love with her. I—I watched her.”

“You stalked her.”

“No, I kept an eye on her.”

Josie decided not to debate the point. “You saw her meeting with Samuel Pratt. She met with him once before he died.”

“I researched him. There was only one reason that I could figure why she would be meeting with him. The second time they met, I overheard them talking and there was no doubt. So I waited until Colette left. I approached Dr. Pratt near his car, convinced him to get in and drive to Bellewood. I knew a stretch of riverbank there that was secluded.”

“Then what?” Josie asked.

“He begged me to let him go. He said he’d never tell and never speak to Colette again. But it was too late. I already learned that people couldn’t let something like that go. I knew what would happen if he exposed Sutton. I’d be killed. Colette and maybe even her family would be killed. So I took him into the river, and I held him under the water until he was gone.”

The cold and matter-of-fact way that Ivan described his crimes sent a shiver up Josie’s spine. The only time he ever seemed to show emotion was when he spoke of Colette. Was he even capable of the love he said he felt for her or was it just some twisted form of obsession? How could someone who could kill so easily be equally as committed to protecting a woman who didn’t love him back? Was Ivan Ulrich a sociopath or just very deeply damaged? Maybe a bit of both, Josie thought. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the rest of Ivan’s confession so they could get him off the street and solve the case.

“You took something from him,” Josie said. “To give to Colette as a warning.”

“He had this arrowhead with him. I gave it to her and told her she had to stop. She was—she was very angry. Very upset. She told me to leave her alone, that she—” he broke off, swallowed, and tried again, “she never wanted to see me again.”

“But you kept ‘looking after her’, didn’t you?” Josie said.

He nodded.

“In spite of your warnings, she made one last effort at exposing Sutton Stone’s big secret,” Josie said.

“Yes. With Drew Pratt. He was a prosecutor. This could not stand. If Mr. Sutton found out she was talking to a prosecutor, all of us would have been in jeopardy.”

“Did Mr. Sutton find out?” Gretchen asked.

“No. I… took care of it.”

Josie said, “What did you do?”

“I followed her the day they met at the craft fair. I knew she was up to something because she’d put on this short-haired wig. I saw her in the parking lot, walking back and forth, chain-smoking. Then Drew Pratt drove up. She leaned into the passenger’s side window for a minute. Then he got out and they went inside. I trailed them as best I could without her spotting me. I overheard her tell him that she had documents. A file, she said. I didn’t know if it was paper or a computer file. So after she left, I made him walk down to the river, with his laptop, too. He had a flash drive. I took it. Then I walked him into the current and drowned him.”

Again, Josie felt a wave of sadness. These men had been taken away from their families and loved ones for no other reason than someone else had told them a terrible secret. They were innocent. They had no part in the original crimes. Their families had suffered. Mason Pratt—the last Pratt standing—would suffer for the rest of his life because of this man.