When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(77)

Keith nodded.

Kimberly didn’t really need to ask the next question to know the answer. Flora’s face said it all. “And it really was the right place?”

“Shit brown carpet and all,” Flora murmured. She spun her water bottle in her hands.

“Okay.” Kimberly returned to the whiteboard. Though once again, she wasn’t sure what exactly to document. They had a serial predator who’d been in Niche at least eight years ago. Not the same timeline as the four remains they’d discovered, but who was to say Jacob hadn’t been coming and going for years before deciding to personally pay a call to dear old Dad? He’d been born here. He knew Niche, Georgia. They had their first definitive link. Except . . . where did that leave them?

“When we had Ness’s computer last year,” Keith spoke up, “it was clear he was chatting with others on the dark web. A loner in real life, but an online socializer.”

Kimberly waited.

“Maybe one of those contacts was here. Or, given Ness’s interest in porn, there is some kind of clandestine sex ring in this area. Jacob would pay a visit for that.”

“We’re not choosing between a criminal enterprise theory versus a lone predator theory, we’re saying maybe the lone predator was part of the criminal enterprise?”

“Exactly.” Keith beamed.

Kimberly had to hand it to the computer analyst. It wasn’t a bad theory, especially knowing that Jacob had been networking with other predators.

“But I didn’t see anyone else,” Flora whispered. She sighed, seemed to make the effort to pull herself together. “If Jacob had joined a . . . sex ring . . . why didn’t others come to the basement? Why was it always just him?”

Keith shrugged. “Just because Ness was willing to play well with others for some kind of perceived personal gain doesn’t mean he stopped being himself. Or that he was willing to share his own toys.”

“I’m a toy?” Flora asked.

“You’re the woman who destroyed him,” Keith said softly. “You’re the woman he went to his grave sorry he’d kidnapped.”

Something passed between the two of them. Kimberly found herself looking away. Most of the room seemed to share the impulse.

Kimberly found herself studying the sheriff, then Franny again at the back of the room. Both appeared stunned. The scenarios Keith was describing couldn’t possibly be happening in their backyard. She wondered if they would ever get over the shock.

Especially the sheriff. It was his job to know better. And now Kimberly found herself thinking thoughts she didn’t like. All criminal enterprises required protection. The first logical person to buy off—the county sheriff.

But studying Sheriff Smithers, his haggard features, she didn’t want to believe such a thing, even as she knew it was her job to remain suspicious.

This damn case. Everything was going to get worse before it got better.

Kimberly took a deep breath, waited a second, then cleared her throat, calling attention back to her.

“Before we get too far along with unsubstantiated theories,” she counseled, “let’s talk burial sites. What does the ERT have to report?”

Team leader Rachel did the honors. “We finished excavation of the mass grave today. No new discoveries in terms of medical debris, clothing, anything useful, but Dr. Jackson now has all of the skeletal remains for analysis. We were also able to study the walls of the crude grave. It would appear a tool similar to a pickax was used to hack into the ground, digging a shallow trench. Franklin and Howard also continued the search for missing bones from the first grave. They found dozens of small bones. Some of which, according to Dr. Jackson, might actually belong to a rabbit.” Rachel skewered both of her teammates with a glance.

“I am not a forensic anthropologist,” Harold said archly. He turned to Franklin. “Are you a forensic anthropologist?”

“No, sir.”

“There you have it.” Harold sat back, content with his argument.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Originally, our plan was to return to Atlanta tomorrow. However, one of the reasons for our, um, current appearance, is that on one of Harold’s side trips, he made a discovery. Harold.”

“I can’t be sure,” the lanky fed said cautiously. “It was end of day, we were headed down, and the lighting wasn’t good. We need to return tomorrow for further examination. Depressions can happen naturally in the woods, of course.”

In the front of the room, Kimberly froze. She already knew what Harold was going to say next. And she was just tired and overwhelmed enough to wish he wouldn’t. But of course, there was nothing she could do about it as Harold straightened slightly, then announced: “It’s possible—probable, actually—that I just found yet another grave.”





CHAPTER 31





D.D.





D.D. WATCHED AS HER NEW charge carefully checked out the motel room. Bonita, still dressed in her maid’s uniform, appeared exhausted but also curious as she hobbled around the space, running her hand across the queen-sized mattress, opening the closet door, playing with the faucets in the bathroom. D.D. had a feeling the cheap brown lodging was nothing compared to the grand guest rooms at the Mountain Laurel B&B. Then again, Bonita had never been allowed to stay in those rooms. She’d slept in a closet in the basement.