“Found another site,” I said to Spikes through the ear piece. “Kincaid house.”
He rolled his shoulders, leaned back in his chair and I picture the look on his face. Deep brown eyes that almost look black. A muscle twitch in his right cheek. A slight lowering of his eye lids as he processes the news.
Reading him hasn't always been easy. He’s not an open book, more like a locked vault with decades of dust and dirt gummed in any tiny crevice.
“Stop being so nice to her. She’s playing you.” I know he knows this. Why play good cop when it’s not needed?
We don't know much but what we do know has helped in making the arrests. We know she’s involved, that she was brought in to run the office, so the Dixon’s could keep their hands clean. She’s a decoy but no less guilty.
Spikes thinks she’s an unwilling partner.
I think she's playing us.
“Anyone see that ring? It’s massive.”
I glance behind me and catch the nods but that’s it. We’re all engrossed on the conversation Spikes is having with Bishop in there.
I argued with Spikes to arrest her, but he wouldn’t listen to me.
This has been the year of murders for Bervie Springs. In the past six months, three bodies had been discovered buried in various locations around town. The first had been attributed to a hitchhiking gone bad, the body dumped in a shallow grave just outside town limits. The second body had been found by the new owners of a home and their dog. The third was a university student.
These were my first murders, but not Spikes. He transferred back home from New York, to get away from this, wanting a quiet life where he could retire.
I’m lucky to be partnered with him. I know this. He knows this. Hell, everyone in the squad knows this. Especially now.
I bounce on my toes, a nervous energy flowing through me. “When did he buy that ring?”
No response.
I shift and look at the group sitting behind me. “Come one folks, we’ve got Dixon’s bank records and boxed receipts. Who found the ring?” I look specifically to Danvers, the new kid tasked with going through those receipts.
We hit the jackpot when we found a shelf full of shoeboxes with receipts going back five years. The crap he kept from shops hours away…the guy was hiding something and we were going to find it.
“Nothing,” his voice squeaks as he steals a look at me. “I flagged all the big purchases but there’s been no jewelry.”
Odd. That ring is huge.
“Keep looking. Look for insurance too. There has to be something.”
I turn my focus back to the room with Spikes. I hit my earpiece.
“We’re looking for info on the ring. Maybe it’s an heirloom?” My voice is lowered, not enough that I’m not overheard, but enough that Bishop can’t hear from the earpiece in Spikes ear. We learned the hard way. “How long has she been wearing it? Alexius still wears hers; did you notice?”
What ex-wife wears a ring from a ruined marriage?
He taps his pen. Our signal that he’s on it.
6
How Dirty Are Your Hands?
10:59pm
“How long do you plan on keeping me here?” I look around the cold room and shiver slightly, despite the warm air still caressing the back of my neck.
“As long as it takes. I’m not going to lie to you Starla. We’ve got multiple bodies right now being dug up in various garden beds throughout town.” Spikes pulls out a few printed images and lays them out in front of me, exactly like what you’d see on television. I glance away, not wanting to see the gory mass graves.
“Do you recognize any of these locations?” His voice is insistent, his tone resolute.
Locations. I might be okay to do that. As long as there’s no blood, or dismembered body parts of…
I give a sweeping glance over the photos again, to see if anything stands out.
“That one,” I point to the third photo. “That’s Brown’s pond, one of the new developments areas. Alexius had that contract set up before I came on board.”
Detective Spikes pushes the photo closer to me. “How can you be sure?”
I jab my finger onto a bench that’s off to the side of the photo. “We just had the plaques added to the benches. Donny and I went out and took care of that ourselves a few weeks ago.”
“When exactly?”
“A few weeks ago. I don’t know. I’d need my calendar and notebook to give you anything more specific.” How do they expect people to remember dates and times at the snap of a finger? It’s ridiculous.
“Can you tell me everything you did when you were there? Don’t leave a deal or conversation out, please.”
I look behind Spikes, to the glass. “No chance fresh coffee’s been made, is there? It’s already past my bedtime.”
Spikes yanks his neck from side to side, loud crick-crack-cricks happening as he does. “Good idea. What do you take in yours? I’ll see if I can scrounge up something to snack on too. It’s been a long night and I missed dinner.” Spikes pushes his chair back and stands.
He’s going to get me the coffee? Not send a lacky out instead?
“Just cream, thank you.”
Spikes nods, places all the photos and random papers back in the file and takes it with him as he leaves.
I lean back in my chair, a little caught off guard. More than a little, actually. Just as I’m about to tell him about Brown’s Pond, he gets up and leaves?
My gaze goes from the mirror to the camera back to the mirror.
How many people are watching me? How many do they have working this case, the largest mass murder case in Bervie Springs since…never?
In the year I’ve been here, there’s been a few questionable deaths, but nothing like this.
There’s a small knock before Spikes pushes the door open with his shoulder. He sets the coffee cups down on the table, one for each of us, and drops a container he’d carried under his arm. It hits the table on an angle, rolls almost to the edge before it stops.
“Wife packed me some homemade cookies. Figured I’d share.” Spike rights the container and opens the lid. A delicious waft of chocolate weaves its way toward me and my stomach growls in response.
I haven’t eaten since earlier this afternoon.
I sip my coffee, enjoy a cookie and wait for him to make the next move.
“It’s going to be a long night,” Leon Spikes says. “More bones were discovered at a different property.”
More bones? Not bodies? There’s a difference. This I learned from a cell mate once. Bones means the deaths are far from recent, may be dismembered or there may be multiple bodies in one grave. If he’d said they’d found another body, that’s one person, one location…
My insides do a set of jumps and twirls, and I’m about to throw up the cookie I just ate.
He must see it on my face too because one second Detective Spikes is about to raise his cup to his lips and the next second, he’s lurching to the side to grab the garbage can left close to the door.
I remain in my seat, stomach contents intact but I appreciate the gesture.
“Brown’s Pond,” I push the words out of my mouth and swallow the bile that chases after them. “Donny and I were there. If there’s evidence, that’s why.”