The Homewreckers(81)

Makarowicz called dispatch and asked for a patrol unit to be dispatched to the house. Then he called the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and the Chatham County coroner’s office to inform them that skeletal remains had been discovered at a residence at 1523 Chatham Avenue.

He hit the rarely used light-and-siren switch on his dashboard and sped toward the Creedmore house.



* * *



Makarowicz shut off the siren as he rounded the corner onto Chatham Avenue. No use drawing the neighbors’ attention to what was probably already a chaotic crime scene. He counted more than a dozen cars and trucks parked in the yard and driveway at the house.

Hattie Kavanaugh met him as soon as he stepped out of his car. Her television makeup was smeared, and she was pale and shaking. Her producer/director was with her.

“You okay?”

“Not really,” she said, her voice wobbly. “I think it’s Lanier, don’t you?”

“Let’s not jump the gun just yet,” he said. “But yeah, I think it’s likely her.”

“What happens now?” Mo Lopez asked. “I went ahead and had our crews clear out of the area, although, you know, we’ve all been tromping around out there for weeks now.”

“I’ve notified the GBI and the coroner’s office, and they’ll dispatch a crew to pick up the remains. There’ll be an autopsy, and then the coroner will make a legal determination on the identity of the remains through dental records and anything else they recover.”

“Have you got contact numbers for all your people who were here when the dumpster fell into the septic tank?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Mo said. “You want me to send them home?”

“First, let’s gather everyone up so I can have a word with ’em,” Mak said. “I’ve got a patrol car coming to keep out sightseers, but until they get here can you send someone up to the street to wave off any busybodies?”

“I’ll send my assistant, Gage,” Mo said. “And I’ll have everyone here in five minutes.”



* * *



The television crew and construction workers gathered around Makarowicz.

“Y’all know we’ve found some skeletal remains here today, and that’s serious business,” he said, his expression stern. “The area around that septic tank is a working crime scene. We don’t know whose body that is, but we’re gonna treat those remains with the utmost respect. And I’d appreciate it if y’all would keep this discovery private until further notice. That means no statements to the press, and nothing, especially photos, on social media. We’ll try to finish gathering evidence as quickly as we can so y’all can get back to work, but please be patient.”

Donnie, one of the carpenters, raised his hand. “Hey, uh, do you think the body is that woman whose wallet we found?”

“Don’t know yet,” Mak said. “But that woman has a daughter, who has been waiting for answers for seventeen years. I wouldn’t want her to hear from somebody’s Instagram page that her mother’s body was found in a septic tank. You wouldn’t want that either, right?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.



* * *



Hattie sat on the steps of the back porch, watching as a Tybee Island police cruiser pulled up, followed by an ambulance. Mo sat down, too, and offered her a cold bottle of water.

She uncapped it and took a sip. “I’m glad you sent everyone home. It seems … ghoulish to have people working while they bring up that body.”

“Screws up our schedule in a major way,” Mo pointed out.

“What’s Rebecca going to say about that?”

“She’s not gonna be happy. But there’s nothing to be done. Hopefully she’ll be appeased by the Headline Hollywood piece.”

Hattie picked at the paper label on the water bottle. “Did you look? At the remains?”

“Yeah. I did. Really, all I could see was—”

She clamped her hands over her ears. “Please don’t. I can’t bear to think of her like that. If it’s her. And who else would it be?”

“Sorry,” Mo said. “You know, you don’t have to hang around here if you don’t want to. I’m gonna ask Makarowicz to keep someone posted there until I can get one of your guys to put up a temporary gate.”

He paused. “If I’d done that two weeks ago, maybe we wouldn’t have had a dumpster fire with thousands of dollars’ worth of damages to the house.”

“But then we never would have found Lanier Ragan’s body,” she reminded him. “I guess things happen for a reason.”

Mo sighed. “This was not an accident. Someone killed her and put the body there.”

“Someone who knew that manhole cover was there,” Hattie said. “I sure didn’t know it was there, and I’ve probably walked across it fifty times in the past two weeks.” She shuddered as she considered the thought that she’d literally been walking across her old teacher’s grave.

“Tell me more about the family that used to own this place,” Mo said. “I know you said the son is a jerk, but is he capable of something like this?”

The crew members were packing up their gear and heading toward their vehicles. Hattie lowered her voice to make sure she couldn’t be overheard. “Mak, I mean, Detective Makarowicz, has been looking into the names of the football players who were being tutored by Lanier that fall, including Little Holl.”