A Dirty Shame Page 3

  “You know I’ve always got an extra room if you need it,” Jack said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “And I’ll even promise not to sneak in and take pictures while you’re in the shower and sell them for a quarter in the lunchroom.”

  I narrowed my eyes, remembering the moment well. Third grade hadn’t started off well for me. My dating life had pretty much been ruined by the time I was eight. “You still owe me eleven dollars for that stunt.”

  “You can send me the bill. Or I can buy you a cheeseburger.”

  “That’s a damned expensive cheeseburger. I think a cheeseburger and a beer will cover the tab. ”

  He smiled—a flash of white teeth and just the hint of one dimple that had driven one of his high school girlfriends to rhapsodize over it on the bathroom wall at the stadium in haiku.

  “Works for me,” he said. “It’s a date.”

  Jack was already inside his cruiser by the time I got my mouth closed. I had a feeling I’d just been manipulated by a master.

  “Dead body,” I reminded myself. “Priorities.” I slammed the car door shut and started the engine. Inhale and exhale. Breathing gave me something to think about the whole way back to the funeral home. I was alive. That was the only thing that mattered. Everything else could wait.

  Chapter Four

  Graves Funeral Home was on the corner of Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. It was a three-story Colonial monstrosity with dark red brick and huge white columns. Two gnarled elm trees with roots that clawed up from the ground like bony fingers arched from either side of the sidewalk to form a canopy of sorts. The branches were as bare as the rest of the yard.

  Across the street was a strip mall, and by the looks of it, it had fallen on hard times. The bad economy had hit King George pretty hard since most of our businesses were small and locally owned. Three of the four stores had For Rent signs in the windows. Only the Laundromat had survived. Nothing much else on the street had changed.

  The funeral home brought in just enough income to keep the creditors at bay. There’d been a short time where I thought the FBI was going to shut it down for good, but they’d been satisfied to confiscate the funds they’d found in different offshore accounts once they’d cleared my name and decided I’d had no idea what my parents had been up to. They’d let me keep the funeral home, my family home and the cabin in the Poconos, since those were inherited properties left by my grandparents. I personally would’ve preferred they’d taken the ramshackle house and left me with the millions, but I hadn’t gotten a say in the matter.

  Despite the name, Bloody Mary wasn’t overrun with deaths—violent or otherwise. So I spent more time doing crossword puzzles and watching reruns of Law and Order than I cared to admit.

  Daylight was in full swing by the time I made my way into the Bloody Mary city limits. King George County was set up in a triangular grid that backed up to the Potomac River on one side and was hemmed in by the Rappahannock on the other. It was divided into four towns. Bloody Mary and King George Proper sat along the Potomac shoreline, and Newcastle and Nottingham were down below. The Square sat in the middle so parts of it were in each different city. There were only 19,000 people that made up the population, but sometimes it seemed awfully crowded.

  I ignored the stares from those who were out early or heading into work. An empty school bus passed me, and I realized I’d completely lost track of what time of the year it was. I’d been living on autopilot, from one day to the next, going through my parents’ belongings and the documents I’d discovered. I hadn’t really been living these past months at all. Just trying to get through to the next day.

  There was still too much winter left for spring to have made an appearance, but the weather would turn to warmer temperatures in the next week or two. I’d be glad for it. It seemed like I’d been cold for too long.

  Jack’s cruiser was parked in the circular drive in front of the funeral home, and the ambulance had pulled underneath the metal portico attached to the side of the building. I’d learned from experience it wasn’t a good idea to traipse fresh corpses through the main lobby, so we always used the side door.

  The door was larger than average and had a ramp that led directly into the private kitchen. And inside the kitchen was the reinforced steel door that led to the lab. The side door was propped open and they’d already wheeled the body inside by the time I got out of the Suburban.

  Jack knew the code to get down to the lab, so I decided to stay out of the way for the moment—or maybe I was stalling—and instead went in through the front entrance. The temperature wasn’t much warmer on the inside. I’d had the electricity turned off before I’d left, but someone had turned it back on, and I could hear the low hum of the heater. That would have been Jack’s doing. The dark wood floors had been polished to a shine and the front foyer smelled of lemons and beeswax.

  The first floor consisted of a chapel, two small family rooms and a large kitchen. A wide staircase sat in the middle of the foyer and led up to an open loft and balcony that was used to serve refreshments or light meals if the family requested them. Three private viewing rooms surrounded the loft, and then another set of stairs was hidden off a small hallway where the bathrooms were located. I hadn’t been up to the third floor in years, but if it was going to be my new home I’d have to get over the fact that sleeping in the same house with the dead had always creeped me out a little. Though the thought of sleeping in my old house creeped me out even more, so it was the lesser of two evils in this case.

  “Thanks for opening it up for me and having it cleaned,” I said as I heard Jack’s footsteps come up behind me. “It makes it easier.”

  “Yeah, well, if I’m being honest, it was Vaughn’s idea.”

  I’d dated Vaughn for a few weeks in high school, but it was short-lived since he also discovered he was gay during the same few weeks. I’d already decided he made a much better friend than boyfriend, but that was mostly just for my ego since it sounded better than me having the ability to turn men gay. He was just one of the gang now—me, Jack, Eddie, Dickie and Vaughn—the Five Musketeers. Jack and Eddie were the only two in the group who weren’t completely dysfunctional, but we didn’t hold it against them too much.

  Jack cleared his throat. “You know he always thinks of that kind of stuff before the rest of us. Me and Eddie and Dickie just did what we were told. Vaughn thought it would be nice for you to come back to a place without dust and mice.”

  “Mice?” I asked, whirling around to face him.

  “Only a couple of little ones,” he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate. “The exterminator has already been out, and you should be vermin free. Even the third floor.”

  “Oh,” I said, thinking of what else might be waiting for me on the third floor. “Thanks. To all of you.” The silence was only awkward for a moment.

  “Come on,” Jack said, holding out his hand and waiting patiently for me to take it. I stared at it a few seconds and then reached out to take hold. I reminded myself it was only Jack and it kept the panic at bay.

  “Come where?” I asked.

  “Let’s go up and check it out.”

  “You mean the third floor?”

  “Yep.”

  “The same third floor where my great-grandmother was pushed to her death?”

  “The one and only. She probably won’t even haunt you, since you’re family and all.”

  “Maybe it’s not such a good idea. Have I told you that none of the women in my family have lived past the age of fifty? My great-grandmother was only thirty-six.”

  “Then you’ve got a few years in you yet. Besides, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. This is called facing your fears. You won’t lose all that tension in your shoulders until you do.”

  “I’m pretty sure I won’t lose the tension in my shoulders until I’m six feet under,” I said, dragging my feet a little. “I need to get started on the body. There’s no need to do this now.”

 
“What are you, chicken?” Jack asked, making bwakking sounds until I felt the challenge of facing a dare surge through my blood. My feet took the stairs two at a time as Jack came up behind me. I’d never been able to resist a dare.

  “You’re so juvenile,” I said. “You making those ridiculous sounds is not the reason I’m doing this.”

  “Sure it’s not,” he agreed.

  “I’m just trying to appease you so I can get to work.”

  “I’m like an open book to you,” he said with a straight face. “You know me too well.”

  I stopped at the bottom of the third floor stairs and narrowed my eyes at him, but he kept smiling so the one dimple at the corner of his mouth appeared. When had the damned thing become so distracting? Why was I even noticing?

  I averted my eyes quickly and instead focused on the stairs. The carpet runner was faded blue with small gold roses and it was a lot skinnier than I remember it being as a child. I hadn’t stepped foot on the third floor since I was a child and had scared myself witless by listening to Jack and Dickie tell ghost stories about it.

  “I’ve been up,” Jack said softly. “There’s nothing there except a few pieces of furniture covered in sheets. I’ll get the guys to help move whatever you need from your house so you can get settled.”

  “That’s good.” My throat had seized and the words barely came out. Jeremy Mooney had broken my voice, the doctors had told me. It would never be the same as it was. I’d never be able to sing badly to Madonna on the radio or scream at football games. But at least I could speak. I swallowed a couple of times and my hand clamped around the stair rail.

  “There’s no need to do this now,” I said. “I’d rather just get to work. It doesn’t matter where I sleep.”

  What I’d left unspoken was that I hardly slept at all—when I did manage to finally nod off, it was from sheer exhaustion, and only for short amounts of time.

  Jack took my hand again and I tensed, but he waited until he felt me relax inch by inch. He pulled me closer until I stood flush with his body and he just waited. Waited as dizziness swept over me and claustrophobia surrounded me. He waited until the fear passed and I was left with nothing but the light and him. I leaned my head against his shoulder and his arms came around me. This time there was no tension at the touch. It was just the two of us.

  “Why won’t you let me help, Jaye? You think I can’t see your terror every time I get close? I can feel you trying to pull away from me and deal with this on your own, but I’m not going to let you. It’s going to take time to heal. For all of you to heal, not just the physical. You almost died.”

  His hands stroked my back in soothing circles and my arms came around him, holding tighter and tighter as I tried to find an anchor for the emotions rioting through my body. Yes, I feared. But I also needed to be held. Hadn’t realized how much I needed it until just now. Warmth and something else infused my body.

  He ducked his head so his lips were against my ear, and I shivered at the touch. “Whether you want to hear it or not,” he said. “I love you. I’m not going to just sit by and watch you wither away.”

  I stiffened in his arms at the mention of the L word. I cared about Jack more than anyone else I’d ever known, including my family. Jack was my family. But there were lots of different kinds of love, and neither of us had a good track record when it came to the emotion. What if I let myself love him and he changed his mind? I’d never had to do without him in my life. Or worse, what if I let myself love him and he was taken from me like Brody had been taken from me?

  “Shh,” he said. “Don’t tense up. I’m not going to push you or pressure you, Jaye. I’m just going to be your friend for now. And I’m going to keep loving you, no matter how stubborn you get. Now nod if you understand.”

  A strange sound came from my throat that was supposed to be a laugh but sounded more like a wheezing wild animal. I nodded and felt something break loose inside me.

  It felt a little like hope.

  Chapter Five

  “You don’t have to do this,” I told Jack two hours later. “There are limits to friendship.”

  “Nope,” he said, only slightly pale. “I’ve made it this far. I can make it through the autopsy. It’s the embalming fluid that gets to me, and you can hardly smell it anymore. I’ll be fine.”

  Jack could stomach violent crime scenes all day long, but when it came to being enclosed underground in a place I frequently drained body fluids, he couldn’t quite keep it together. I didn’t even know what the smells would be like to someone who wasn’t accustomed. I’d grown too used to it over the years. I made sure the ventilation system was on as high as it would go and got to work.

  I’d gotten the body set up on blocks so he was easier to clean, and I stood back while Jack inked the victim’s fingers to get prints. Officer Cheek had been the one to check Reverend Oglesby’s home and retrieve prints so we could use them in comparison to our victim. He’d also reported back there was no sign Reverend Oglesby had been at the house for a few days. The Reverend’s car hadn’t shown up either, so Jack had put an APB out on a 2001 white Honda Accord as soon as he’d received the word.

  I’d already taken all the samples I could from the body and documented the exterior wounds on my recorder so I could make a written report later. The strong scent of disinfectant clung to the body now and I had him prepped and ready to begin the autopsy.

  Somewhere between the third floor stairs and the white sterile box of my lab, I’d started to feel almost human again. Maybe it was because of Jack. Or maybe it was because I had something to do with my hands. But the great pressure that had sat on my chest like an elephant was gone for the moment.

  Unfortunately, I was exhausted past the point of doing any good. The slight tremor in my hand wasn’t the only thing keeping me from proceeding with the autopsy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept. Or eaten for that matter. The thought of food had my stomach clenching with pain, but nothing sounded good so I ignored it.

  “His back teeth are all missing,” I said. “Presumably pulled during the torture, which is going to make identification harder if this happens to not be Reverend Oglesby and there are no reports of other missing members of the community. The killer did leave the victim’s fingerprints intact, which is sloppy if you’re trying to hide someone’s identity, which leads me to believe the killer wasn’t trying to hide the victim’s identity at all.”

  “Killers,” Jack corrected. “There’s no way one person did all of this. The victim weighed over two hundred pounds and is built like a linebacker. He was tortured, but in very different ways, telling me everyone involved got their chance to inflict their own personal brand of pain. Then they chained him to a tree in the dark. Someone had to steady the dead weight of the body while they wrapped the chains around the tree. I don’t even think two men could have done it by themselves. I’d say it’d take a minimum of three strong men.”

  I stood up tall and stretched, rubbing at the small of my back. “What we’ve got here is a healthy male in the prime of his life. He’s strong, but not strong enough to fight off his attackers. He was restrained,” I said, indicating the marks around his ankles and wrists. “Then he was systematically beaten. Blows to the torso first. Broken ribs that punctured a lung. Shots to the kidneys hard enough that he’d be pissing blood for days had he survived.”

  I could see it clearly. The body was a map, and blood and bone didn’t lie. Every cut and bruise had its own time stamp. “They broke his hands next. Pulverized them to keep him from fighting back once they unchained him.”

  “He wouldn’t have been able to think much past the pain,” Jack said. “Thoughts of fighting back would have been replaced with thoughts of trying to survive. He wouldn’t have tried to fight back at that point.”

  I touched Jack’s back lightly but didn’t linger. The reason he’d left the S.W.A.T. team was because of the three bullets shot into his chest during a raid. More bullets had taken the lives of
six others on the team. He didn’t talk about that time of his life, but I knew he was very lucky to be standing next to me today. We were both lucky.

  “The lashings would have come next?” Jack asked. “You said something metal was tied to the end of the whip.”

  “Definitely metal. I pulled some rust and small slivers from inside the wounds for analysis. I don’t know for sure it was a whip though. Could have been a belt. But from the length of the cuts across his back I’d say the weapon was a DIY project. Where the metal dug into the skin and sliced was probably six to eight inches long. Rough-edged and rusty. Your guess is as good as mine on what it could be.”

  Jack hmmed under his breath and said, “Give me a place to start looking. Where was he killed? Not at the place where we found his body.”

  “By the rate of decomp and the greenish tinge to the body, I can tell you he’s been dead around two days. It’s Friday morning so that’s going to put his death early Wednesday morning.”

  “This type of torture would’ve taken time. The planning of it. The tools. But they wouldn’t want to hold him for too long. So maybe he disappeared Monday or early morning on Tuesday.”

  I picked up John Doe’s arm and turned it over. “You can see by the bruising around the wrists and the raw scrapes that they cuffed his wrists and then tied them above his head, most likely when they whipped him. The broken hands didn’t work with the cuffs though. His hands would’ve slid right through and he’d have dropped to the ground before they could finish the lashes.”

  “Christ, people never cease to amaze me.” Jack ran his hand over the top of his head. “He was relatively clean when we brought him in. If he’d been killed outdoors there would have been a lot more debris and dirt covering his body. Especially if he’d taken a fall to the ground.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I found tree bark along with the rust and slivers of metal in his back, and I found larvae in the open wounds giving me a decomp time consistent with a body who’d spent a few hours outside, but if he’d fallen to the ground after his hands slipped through the restraints, there’d be dirt and other debris embedded in the skin. He wasn’t killed outdoors in my opinion. But they kept him upright somewhere, similar to how we found him.”