And still they didn’t have the answers they needed.
When Travis came in with the last batch of reports from area banks, Mallory groaned. “Christ, not more paper.”
“And not even helpful,” he told her as he handed the notes to Rafe, then leaned his hands on the back of an unoccupied chair. “Nobody recognized the name or photograph of Jamie Brower-except to say they’d seen her picture in the newspapers and on TV.”
Isabel waited out another rumble of thunder, then said, “We need a fresh mind. Travis, if you wanted to bury a secret someplace you could be sure it wouldn’t be found, where would you put it?”
“In a grave.” He realized he was being stared at, and straightened self-consciously. “Well, I would. Once somebody’s buried, they’re not often dug back up. So why not? It’d be easy enough to strip the turf off a grave, bury whatever it was I was trying to hide between the surface and the casket-assuming it was the right size-then cover it back up and re-lay the grass. As long as I was careful, nobody’d even notice.”
“Son of a bitch,” Rafe said.
Isabel was shaking her head. “Why isn’t he a detective?”
Travis brightened. “I was right?”
“God knows,” Hollis said, “but you’re sending us in a new direction, so I say good for you.”
“Hey, cool.” Then his smile faded. “We got lots of cemeteries in Hastings. Where do we start looking? And what’re we looking for, by the way?”
“We’re looking for a box of photos,” Rafe said, feeling the younger cop had earned the knowledge.
Isabel added, “And it has to be connected with Jamie Brower. We need to know where any deceased family or friends are buried.”
“I’ll go back to my phone,” Travis said with a sigh. “Start calling all the local clergy and asking them. I do not want to have to call the Browers directly, not today. Or tomorrow, or next week.”
“Yeah, let’s avoid that if possible,” Rafe told him.
When he’d gone, Isabel said, “You really should promote him.”
“He was on my short list,” Rafe said. “The only reason I’ve hesitated is because he’s currently sleeping with a reporter who isn’t quite what she appears to be.”
Hollis asked, “What is she?”
“According to my sources, she works for the governor’s office, and is sent in quietly during tricky investigations to keep an eye on local law enforcement. So we don’t do anything to embarrass ourselves. Or the state attorney general. They’re keeping a very close eye on this investigation.”
“That shows a distressing lack of faith,” Isabel said, but without surprise.
Mallory was looking at Rafe with lifted brows. “You know that for a fact.”
“Yes,” he replied with a faint smile. “I keep a fairly close eye on my people.”
Mallory stared at him, then said, “Oh, don’t tell me.”
“You and Isabel have something in common. Neither one of you is as subtle as you think you are.”
“I resent that,” Isabel said.
“Besides,” Hollis said, “Alan Moore is the one who isn’t subtle. Even I picked up on it.”
Mallory got to her feet with great dignity. “Being outnumbered by psychics is hardly fair. I’m going to use the computer in the other room. Excuse me.”
“I think we pissed her off,” Hollis said absently as she opened the local phone book to begin making a list of churches and cemeteries.
“She’ll get over it.” Rafe shook his head. “Although I don’t know if Alan will. Never seen him fall so hard before.”
Isabel pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Mallory doesn’t strike me as the settling-down type.”
“I don’t think she is. I also don’t think Alan has realized that yet.”
“It’s always about relationships,” Hollis murmured, with a sidelong glance at Isabel.
Ignoring the glance, Isabel said, “We need to go back through every piece of paper associated in any way with Jamie’s life and death and check out the names of all family and friends.”
“Chicken,” Hollis said.
“We have more imperative things to think about,” Isabel told her. “Like finding that grave.”
Rafe said, “You think it’s there, don’t you? You think Jamie buried that box in somebody’s grave?”
“I think it makes sense. She was burying a part of her life, so why not put it in a grave? And I’m betting it won’t be a family grave, but the grave of someone else who was important to her. A teacher, a mentor, a friend. Maybe her first lover.”
“Male or female?”
“At a guess, female.”
“That does help narrow the field.”
“Let’s hope it narrows it enough.”
Of all the family and friends who had died during Jamie’s life, Isabel considered three women the most likely candidates for Jamie’s burial of her secrets. One was a former teacher that friends reported Jamie had seemed especially close to, one was a close friend from high school who had been killed in a highway accident, and the third was a woman who had worked in Jamie’s office, dying young of cancer.
Three women, three cemeteries.
“I think we should check these out before the storm breaks,” Isabel told Rafe.
Rafe wanted to argue, but he was reluctant to put off doing anything that could help them catch the killer before he took aim at his next target. Isabel.
And before the press took aim at her.
“It’ll be faster if we split up,” she was saying. Since she had already told him privately that she wanted to stick close to Hollis because her partner seemed to be so affected by the tension of the storm, Rafe didn’t object when she added, “Hollis and I will take Rosemont.”
“You’ll also take Dean Emery,” he added. “There’s only one entrance to Rosemont, and it’s fenced; he can stand by at the entrance while you two find the grave. Mallory can take Travis along to Sunset.”
“And who will you take to Grogan’s Creek?” Isabel asked politely.
“I might take the mayor,” he answered wryly. “I need to stop and see him before he blows a fuse.”
Mallory said, “We’re doing all this on the way home, right? Because I’m beat.”
Rafe nodded. “Check out the cemeteries, phone in reports-once you’re out of the storm, that is-and then head home.”
“Got my vote,” Isabel said.
Twenty minutes later, Hollis was saying, “You had to pick the largest cemetery, didn’t you? The one with all the tall monuments and acres of graves.”
“And don’t forget the pretty little chapel with the stained-glass windows,” Isabel reminded, raising her voice a bit as the wind tended to snatch at it.
“I just wish the place had a caretaker on duty to point out Susan Andrews’s grave,” Hollis said, pausing to squint at a headstone. “Because unless…”
“Unless what?” Isabel asked, half turning to look at her partner.
Hollis would have answered, but she was hardly aware of Isabel in that moment. The sounds of the wind and the thunder had retreated into that peculiar hollow almost-silence. Her skin was tingling. The fine hairs on her body were stirring. And in the strobe flashes of the lightning, she could see Jamie Brower several yards away, beckoning.
“This way,” Hollis said.
Isabel followed her. “How do you know?” she demanded, raising her voice again to be heard over the rising wind.
“It’s Jamie.” Hollis nearly stopped, then hurried forward. “Dammit, it was her. But I don’t see her now.”
“Where was she?”
“Somewhere in this area.” Hollis jumped as thunder crashed, feeling her skin literally crawl. “Have I mentioned how much I hate storms?”
“You might have, yeah. This area? We’ll find it.” Isabel paused as thunder boomed, and added, “Unless we get struck by lightning, that is. I just think we need to do this now. And if you saw Jamie, that makes it even more imperative, I’d say.”