When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(39)

Dr. Jackson shook her head. “Mass killers don’t like to work any harder than they have to. Some even make their victims dig their own graves. In this case, looks to me like one small ditch was carved into the earth. Which, given the amount of bushes and tree roots, couldn’t have been an easy task. Then, the bodies were dumped in. Over time, the skeletons collapsed into the jumbled pattern we’re seeing here.

“Now, there are a couple of factors we can already consider. We’ve removed most of the dirt from the grave, and there’s still no trace of clothing.”

“Like the first grave,” Kimberly said.

“Exactly. I’ve also noted the first pelvis. Definitely female. Based on a quick glance, I would guess they all are.” The forensic anthropologist sighed heavily.

Kimberly nodded, taking another swig of water and feeling those words like a weight in her chest. Four murdered girls. All dumped on one mountainside, and dead so long not even a memory of flesh remained. Good God, what had been going on around here?

“Can’t tell you time since death. That’ll take some quality time with my mass spec back in the lab. Clearly, we’re looking at older remains, but are these two sites five years apart, a few years apart, a few months apart . . . that’s going to take some analysis.”

“Three bodies in one burial site is unusual for a serial predator.”

“Can’t say I’ve run across that before myself. We already got an interesting find in the first sieve, as well.”

Kimberly hadn’t worked the sifting process so she looked at the doctor.

“Appears to be a slender piece of plastic tubing,” Dr. Jackson explained. “The size and diameter reminds me of medical equipment, say a cannula used for an IV.”

“Seriously?”

“Again, this is premature. But we also found a dirt-covered strip of adhesive. Like the kind used to tape an IV to the back of a patient’s hand.”

“There are possible medical supplies in this grave? No clothes or signs of restraints but medical supplies?”

“Like I said, gotta get back to the lab.”

Kimberly stared at the doctor. She honestly didn’t know what to make of such findings. A mass grave had been strange enough. But a mass grave where one of the victims may have received medical treatment?

Kimberly heard a sound in the distance. A low splutter, turning into a throaty growl as it grew closer. Instantly, she and the rest of the team were on their feet.

Closer. Louder. Roaring. Clearly some kind of vehicle approaching where no vehicle should be.

Kimberly drew her sidearm.

An ATV came crashing through the bushes. Two riders, both wearing helmets, pitched forward as the vehicle careened sideways then lurched to a sudden stop. Kimberly lined up her Sig Sauer on the driver just as the person opened her visor and Kimberly found her gun pointed straight at Flora Dane’s forehead.





CHAPTER 18





D.D.





ARE YOU TELLING ME that didn’t bother you?” D.D. asked.

Sheriff Smithers had just pulled into Niche’s town office. Now he killed the engine, stared at her. “What?”

“That girl. The way the mayor and his wife treat her. She’s just a kid. She should be in school, not working as a maid.”

“In Georgia, school is mandatory from six to sixteen. Now, that girl looked old enough to be a teenager to me. Could be she already graduated from some special school, or that she’s homeschooled. You don’t know what you don’t know. And Mayor Howard and his wife . . . they’ve done a lot for this community. You can’t just assume the worst.”

“I can, too,” D.D. muttered, as she popped open her door. She didn’t like Mayor Howard or his wife. Everything was a little too perfect. She was always suspicious of people whose houses seemed more like set pieces than real homes. And everything about that grand inn, from its wraparound porch outside to the silver coffee service inside . . . it smacked of pretense. Look here, not there. Admire appearances, then move along before peering beneath.

“There must be a record of the girl,” D.D. said, joining the sheriff on the steps of the town office. “You realize we don’t even know her name?”

“I’ll make some inquiries,” the sheriff offered, “but I can tell you there’s no real dirt on the Counsels. Any legitimate misdeeds would’ve already crossed my desk. For that matter”—the sheriff nodded his head toward the administrative building—“Dorothea, the town clerk, knows everything about everyone. Better yet, she likes to show off she knows everything about everyone. You want to know more about the mayor and his wife, she’s the one to ask.”

D.D. perked up. “Meaning we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“We were due for a break sooner or later.”



* * *



—

THE NICHE TOWN OFFICE WAS small, looking more like a white double-wide to D.D. than a traditional government building, but then the town was so tiny maybe this was all it needed.

They walked into the middle of the squat space. To the right was a large open area with chairs lined up against the wall. For town meetings, D.D. would guess. To her left was a raised counter, marking the clerk’s office. An older woman with silver-framed glasses on a long glittering lanyard stood up from her computer to greet them. She wore a pink turtleneck, though D.D. would’ve thought it too warm for such things.