“And if it was Benjamin...” Angela murmured. “I mean, could you forget to lock a vault after slicing up a human being and leaving him or her within? Was it locked before? We have three victims, killed at three different times. If it was Benjamin Robertson, then... what? He wanted to be discovered? Or he loved the display. Whoever did it, the spectacle mattered.”
Jackson shrugged. “Naturally, the man who owns the vault is a person of interest. Keys to the family vaults are in the family’s hands. Except the cemetery keeps a copy of each key for vandalism purposes, storm damage, or other forces of nature that can cause problems. Some of the family vaults are old, and the families have moved on to other states—though they maintain ownership. So, it’s more than possible that a key might have been taken and copied and even returned.”
He continued. “They do have security cameras at the front office. They don’t really cover anything inside except who comes and goes, but if a key was taken and copied, we can at least see who has been in the building over the last three months.”
He walked over to the board that Angela had created, looking at all the dates. At this time, and even after full autopsies, they wouldn’t know the exact times of death for the first John Doe and Jane Doe. Identification on the dead would help with the timeline. But even then, simply going by the date they disappeared might not be accurate. Some killers held on to their victims until they were ready to commit their final crime.
“There is little else we can do until tomorrow,” Jackson said. “The local police will keep the cemetery closed. Luckily, no burials or interments are scheduled for the week. I’ve informed Cassandra in the cemetery office that Debbie Nolan, the young woman who witnessed the character with the knife, wasn’t seeing things. She probably did see a killer. We’ll need to interview all the managers and groundskeepers in the morning. We’ll need to bring Debbie in, too.”
“Jackson, do you think the killer saw her?” Angela asked worriedly. “If he’s involved with the cemetery, he’ll likely know the bodies were discovered. That could put her in danger.”
He nodded. “Already thought of that. We have a patrol car watching her home.”
Angela smiled at him and nodded grimly. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. It was amazing to work with his wife. They’d met when Adam Harrison had first formed the Krewe of Hunters to investigate a case in New Orleans. And Jackson had been thankful every day since.
“Tomorrow is going to come early. And it’s already late.” He slipped his hands down and squeezed her biceps gently.
“At least the kids will be sleeping.” Angela placed her hand over his.
He smiled, thinking of Mary Tiger at home watching the kids. “Let’s hope.”
“Except I feel bad. They are so excited about Halloween. I’m sure Mary has seen a half-dozen possibilities for their costumes. Corby is imaginative and helps Victoria become more and more so, too. I think she would have been happy being Spider Baby, but Corby likes to get a bit ghoulish.”
He chuckled his agreement.
“Ghoulish. Just what we need,” Angela said. She gave a little shudder and made a face. “We have to find whoever did this, Jackson.”
“We will. It’s what we do,” he reminded her gently.
She stood suddenly. “Right. We’re on it in the morning. But now... a shower. I feel that I still smell like death,” she finished quietly.
He wrapped his arm around her and started them toward the door. “Then let’s go.”
They did. At home, they found that the children were indeed sleeping. Mary, Axel Tiger’s aunt, was the best caretaker in the world, and they knew they were incredibly lucky to have her. She said that she was lucky to have them.
Mary was watching television when they came in but quickly greeted them. She frowned a bit with worry and asked about the case, then told them, “Well, I took pictures tonight as Corby dressed himself up—and enhanced a few of Victoria’s ideas. But I think I’ll show them to you later. I’d best be getting home, and you should get some sleep.”
Angela, of course, still wanted to see the pictures.
As expected, Corby, nearly a teenager now, had come up with all kinds of bizarre costumes. A few were just fun, from a member of the old rock band KISS to a Marvel superhero, a demon, a dark angel, and a ghoul.
They managed to smile through the pictures.
Then Mary was gone. Angela looked at Jackson and grinned, blue eyes shining like sapphires.
“Race you!” she said.
“Race me?”
“Shower.”
He let her beat him, though they both had to slow down to secure their service weapons, always carefully locked in the mini-vaults by the bed because of the children.
But their clothing still wound up strewn everywhere, and they burst into the shower together, laughing, with Jackson warning her they might not get anywhere if they tripped one another or fell because of the slickness of the tile.
Slicker still when the soap came out, both of them washing themselves and then each other, the determination for absolute cleanliness their one concession to the night they had just passed. They had learned long ago that to do what they did, they had leave work behind when they came home. That afforded them sanity and a real life with Corby and Victoria.
And themselves.
They should have been tired. They were tired. But soaping and shampooing each other became something erotic, slick hands sliding here and there, bodies pressing. Fingers touching and caressing...
It was Angela who laughed softly and whispered that it wouldn’t be terribly sensual or exciting if one of them broke a leg attempting something romantic in the shower.
Jackson had to be a little romantic, though. So, he swept her up to step out of the stall, then held her close and headed out of the bathroom. Angela grabbed for towels and assured him that he was incredibly romantic but it wouldn’t lend itself to a great night if they totally soaked the bed.
“Oh, you romance-crusher,” he accused her.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.
She did. He smiled, gazing into her blue eyes, and felt the slide of her body against his. Her touch, her caress. Her kiss.
Again, he had a moment when he thought about how incredibly lucky he was. She was practically a super-agent at work. And at home?
She could make all the ugly and cruel in the world go away.
Making love expended the last of their energy. Angela whispered that she loved him, and even as he replied, he realized that she was asleep, curled against his shoulder.
He held her.
Then he closed his eyes and slept, hoping that neither of them contemplated the horrors of what they’d found in the tomb in their dreams.
Chapter 2
Two days before Halloween
“Debbie, I know how upsetting this must be for you,” Angela began, speaking with Debbie Nolan, the young woman who had reported the man with the bloody knife at the cemetery. “But—”
“No one believed me,” Debbie said miserably. “Of course, they do now. But I was terrified. There was a minute, or at least a second, when I thought he turned and might have seen me. But one of the caretakers was on a cart going down the path, and he wasn’t that far past me. So maybe he didn’t see me. I was afraid he would come after me if he did. Because he was real! I mean, really real. He wasn’t a Halloween decoration or someone playing a prank. I saw him!”