Secret is in the Bones (Paynes Creek Thriller Book 3) Read online

  I could feel Luke’s eyes on me. I hadn’t told him that I’d planned to settle back in Paynes Creek, eventually.

  “That’s interesting. Because you’ve been on a list of people I’ve been told I needed to reach out to. But I was under the impression you were still out west somewhere.”

  “Came back to the area just recently,” I said. Luke shifted beside me. He clearly knew I’d been back longer.

  The chief gestured toward the house. “You’re close friends of Penelope and Steven Champagne. That gives you a conflict of interest in this case. Tell me why I should let you see the crime scene.”

  “Penelope is a friend, Chief. But everyone at the station has a conflict of interest. I’m the best forensic specialist you have.”

  “Chief,” Luke said. “She sees things others don’t. I can attest to that.”

  The chief crossed his arms and rolled back on his heels, considering me. “Oh, I remember. But unfortunately, Faith’s point to all of us being conflicts of interest has merit. The case has already been handed over to the State Police.”

  “What?” I glanced around at the cars again. “But they’re not here.”

  “KSP Detectives and ERT are on their way.”

  I pinned him with a hard gaze. “Come on, Chief. Let me walk through the scene before they get here.”

  He rocked back on his heels again, looking up to the sky.

  God, I didn’t want to beg.

  When he met my eyes again, he said, “You contaminate the crime scene in any way…”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  He looked at his watch. “You have five minutes. Don’t touch anything.” He looked at Luke. “You have supplies to cover her clothes and feet?”

  “I do.” Luke placed a hand on my arm and started to lead me away, but the chief spoke again.

  “Well, if anyone asks, you and I spoke, and I hired you for today’s assignment. Beyond that, I looked at my calendar, and I can meet with you this Thursday to discuss an ongoing arrangement.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  He nodded. “Get a move on it. You don’t have much time.”

  Luke and I rushed to his truck.

  “My heart is racing,” I said as he handed me a pair of paper overalls. “What are we going to see in there?”

  Luke and I slipped into the overalls. “Nothing good,” he said. “You need to squash all knowledge of whose house this is. Look at the crime scene as if the people involved are strangers.”

  I nodded and took the shoe coverings and gloves.

  Armed with my camera, we headed toward the house as a couple of detectives walked out. As recognition passed over their faces, they started to speak to me—to stop me from entering—when I heard the chief address them behind me.

  “Detectives, let them pass. I need to see both of you over here.”

  “They’re about to be told KSP is taking over,” I presumed.

  “They’ll take that better than hearing the feds are moving in,” Luke chuckled.

  I rolled my eyes.

  After slipping the foot covers over my shoes and the gloves on my hands, we stepped into the foyer. Immediately, the metallic smell of blood and an underlying smell of death hit me. I rubbed the spot over my heart as anxiety kicked in. When we rounded the corner from the foyer into the living room, I stopped dead and sucked in a breath. “Oh, God, Luke.”

  Luke placed his own gloved hand on my elbow to steady me, but said nothing.

  The first thing that drew my eye, of course, was Steven Champagne’s body lying on the sofa, his arm stretched out to the floor. The medical examiner—Dr. Corinne Michel—was leaning over the body, examining Steven’s chest. Her blond hair was tied into a low knot at the base of her neck, and she wore body and head coverings to keep any of her DNA from contaminating the crime scene.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked Luke in a low voice.

  “I don’t know, but you don’t have much time.”

  “Right.” Using all of my years of therapy, I squashed my emotions, tucked aspects of my grief into a box, and closed it off. Then I got to work. It was useful to remind myself that I was a professional. I never got used to seeing the dead, but I had a job to do. And the victim—in this case, someone special to me—needed me to do my job. I needed to represent Steven since he wasn’t here to tell us what happened.

  Corinne looked up and studied us through safety glasses. “Who the hell let you two in?” She didn’t sound angry, just annoyed.

  “Hi, Dr. Michel,” Luke said. “We won’t get in your way. Chief McCracken was kind enough to let us take a look to see if we can help.”

  “Uh-huh.” She continued doing her job. “I’ve been in this town long enough to know how small towns work. But if you mess up my examination or touch my body in any way, I won’t hesitate to throw either of you under the bus.”

  “We won’t,” I assured her. “We’ll be in and out in three minutes.”

  I began snapping photos of every angle of the room. Blood covered the sofa. I photographed blood spatters, drag marks, the knife, and an overturned lamp that had been ripped from the wall. I used my wide-angle zoom lens to take what photos I could manage in the short time frame, rather than getting close to objects. I respected the risk the chief took by letting us inside, and I had no desire to abuse the opportunity. After getting photos of Steven and the area surrounding him, I took photographs of the entire room. Someone had been watching television, so I snapped images of the TV and the shelves on either side. By the mostly empty glass of wine on the coffee table, and knowing that Steven typically worked the night shift on Friday nights, I assumed that that someone had been Penelope.

  “She’d been drinking wine,” I said softly, then turned toward the kitchen. I shifted into work mode easily enough. I needed to move quickly, so shoving the grief I felt for my friends deep down was the only way.

  Once in the kitchen, I spotted the bottle. I took more photos.

  I also snapped a picture of the countertop, which appeared to be coated with a powdery substance. Against the backsplash was a prescription pill bottle with the lid off. I zoomed in on the bottle and captured that the prescription was for zolpidem—also known by its brand name of Ambien—and that it had been prescribed to Penelope Champagne more than four years ago. Strange, I thought.

  “What do you make of the powder on the counter?” I asked Luke.

  “Not sure,” he said. “Have you known Penelope or Steven to take drugs?”

  “No. Never,” I said. “And I can’t imagine Penelope would ever do something so stupid as to snort Ambien?” I gestured toward the pill bottle.

  “They’ll test the counter and the wine bottle,” Luke said, sounding confident in the state police’s ability. “And the glass in the other room, for that matter.”

  We exited the kitchen and made our way down the hallway. I looked inside Danny’s room and snapped a couple of photos, but other than his race car bed being unmade, nothing seemed out of place.

  Next, we turned toward Penelope’s bedroom. Her bed was made. Some clothes lay at the foot of the bed. A pair of shoes were discarded close by. I took photos of Penelope’s bedroom, then snapped several photos of the master bathroom, including inside the medicine cabinet.

  With gloved hands, I turned a couple of bottles so that I could see the names of the prescriptions.

  Corinne poked her head in. “I’m assuming y’all weren’t hoping to talk to the KSP detectives.”

  Luke and I traded looks. “Are they here?” Luke asked. When Corinne nodded, Luke remained calm and said, “Thank you. As much as we’d love to talk to them, we’ll save it for another time.”

  We walked quickly down the hallway. When we reached the living room, we spotted a man and a woman heading up the driveway toward the front door. I looked right and into the kitchen, then nudged Luke. “The sliding glass door in the kitchen is open.”

  He stared at me for a second, and I thought he was going to make us face
the consequences of being caught in the middle of the crime scene. But then he nodded. “Yes, go.”

  We slipped out the back door and made our way around to the front, pausing on the side of the house to see what activity was going on in front of the house.

  “Take your coverings off.” Luke stripped his gloves, foot coverings, and overalls off and wadded it all up into a compact ball. I followed suit.

  We watched two detectives enter the house. Another spoke to Chief McCracken and his two detectives. The chief spotted us, but quickly went back to his conversation and did nothing to point attention toward Luke and me. The chief probably didn’t want the hassle of getting caught interfering with the crime scene any more than we did.

  “Walk like you’re supposed to be here,” Luke said.

  “No problem.” I followed Luke straight to his SUV. I didn’t bother putting the equipment in the back seat. I just opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. I tossed the protective coverings into the back seat and held my camera in my lap as Luke pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.

  Luke pulled in front of my Aunt Leah’s house—the house Aunt Leah had lived in most of her adult life along with my Uncle Henry, and the house I’d moved to at age seventeen when my mom and stepfather were killed in a fire.

  Uncle Henry and my brother Finch had each received harsh sentences for their crimes committed against my mom, Scarlett, and her husband, Eli Gentry, after they were killed one night when Finch’s anger got out of hand. Although they pleaded guilty in a deal negotiated between Henry’s and Finch’s attorneys and the Commonwealth’s Attorney, the judge overrode the sentence and saw to it that they each received a harsher sentence than had been agreed upon.

  Of course, the trial dug up all sorts of skeletons from my family’s closet. That made my decision easy to stay away from the trial and to leave Paynes Creek behind the past year. I still hadn’t seen Uncle Henry or Finch since the day I confronted Henry at his and Leah’s kitchen table. I never did confront my brother.

  And Finch’s wife, Aubrey? She would most likely spend the rest of her life in prison for the heinous crimes she committed.

  And I wasn’t sad about it.

  I flinched at the memory of Aubrey nearly burning me alive. Remembering that day and the day my mother was killed like each event had just happened had me rubbing the burn scars on my neck.

  “Faith,” Luke said, shutting his truck off and interrupting my thoughts. “We need to talk.”

  Staring straight ahead, I let my hand drop to my lap. “I just can’t right now.” Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I pushed out of the truck. Thanks to the hyperthymesia that plagued me, the devastating emotions I relived every single day—every single time I remembered my mother’s death, my brother’s and uncle’s incarceration, Aubrey’s attempt to kill me—kept me from having any sort of normal relationship. And that wasn’t going to change.

  I knew Luke wanted to talk about us and why I had hidden my whereabouts from him. No amount of talking was going to fix what might have been between us once. No amount of talking would fix me.

  When I was outside the truck, I turned back, keeping the door open, and lifted my eyes to meet his hard stare. “Thank you for taking me to Penelope’s house. I know you took a great chance in doing so.”

  I didn’t want to further risk getting Luke into trouble, which was why I wouldn’t have him drive me to the hospital to speak with Penelope. We’d both seen the crime scene. We knew any logical investigation would point toward Penelope. And the state’s detectives would not go easy on her. I would have to do my own investigative work to be ready for whatever the police accused her of. I know Penelope didn’t cause whatever happened inside that house.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, then started to say something else, but stopped.

  I closed the door, and as I turned to head up the sidewalk to Aunt Leah’s front door, Luke also got out.

  He rounded the truck and walked right past me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To say hello to Oliver. He and I are buddies.”

  “What?” I said, following him. “Since when?”

  “Since the moment he was born.”

  I followed him to the door, which Leah was already opening.

  “Luke!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

  He thumbed back at me like we were just old friends. “That one needed a ride.” He walked past Leah as if he’d done it a thousand times before, kissing her on the cheek as he did.

  All I could do was stare, dumbfounded. Leah gathered me into a hug. “I’m so sorry about Steven and Penelope, honey. Have you been to see her?”

  “Not yet.” I wasn’t sure I would be able to get close to her, assuming police were stationed outside her hospital room.

  Once we were in the house, Leah closed the door. She’d aged ten years during Uncle Henry’s hearings, but she looked good today—as if she’d shed at least five of those years in recent months. Maybe it had something to do with getting to take care of her grandnephew, Oliver.

  Oliver was born on April 1 in the hospital closest to the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women. Aubrey had refused any drugs during the delivery, and she had refused to hold Oliver after the delivery.

  According to Leah, Finch had named Oliver based on conversations he’d had with his wife back when they were ecstatic about the pregnancy.

  “There are a lot of unkind words and contradicting stories being tossed around this morning,” Leah said, bringing me back to the present. When I tossed a disapproving look her way, she added. “But you know me. I don’t listen to the ignorant and narrow-minded. I’ll let you tell me the truth.”

  I traded looks with Luke. “I’m afraid I don’t know enough yet. Other than Penelope is going to need your prayers directed her way.”

  “I’ve already started. Now tell me: how bad is it?”

  I let out a long breath. “It’s bad, Aunt Leah. Chief McCracken has brought KSP in to run the investigation.”

  “What? He just handed the case over?” She seemed to think about that. “They think Penelope is responsible. And there’s a conflict of interest.”

  Neither Luke nor I said anything.

  “Oh, dear,” Aunt Leah said. “Your faces say everything. Well, come in. Let me fix you something to eat.” She shooed us toward the kitchen.

  “No, Aunt Leah, I’m fine.”

  She sent me a disapproving scowl but seemed to decide not to argue. “Well, I know Luke wants something.” When Luke looked at her, she said, “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  He shrugged, then continued on to the back of the house where the kitchen and Aunt Leah’s adjoining office were located. That’s when we both spotted my nephew Oliver lying on his back in a portable play pen between the two rooms. He was playing with his feet, and he nearly had one of his socks pulled off.

  I never knew quite how it had happened, but Aunt Leah was able to make sure she got custody of Finch’s and Aubrey’s son. And while I wish I had been here to help from the very beginning, I was thankful she had custody of Oliver. The thought of my nephew getting lost in the foster care system nearly broke my heart.

  Oliver was almost six months old now and was thriving in Leah’s care. I was pretty sure that Oliver had given Leah a reason to pick herself up after everything went to shit last year.

  “Hey, my little man,” Luke said. “Put it here.” He leaned over, took Oliver’s little hand, and directed it to give Luke a high-five.

  Oliver’s face lit up when he saw Luke. And as his little hand touched Luke’s larger palm, Oliver laughed. He actually laughed.

  “You two,” Aunt Leah waved a hand at Luke and Oliver, like Luke and Oliver had done this very thing a thousand times before.

  Realizing I was smiling, I immediately frowned. “What is going on here?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” Aunt Leah stirred something on the stove that
smelled like beef stew.

  “What do you mean, what do I mean?” I pointed between Luke and Oliver. “Why does it look like Luke and Oliver are practically best friends?”

  Luke straightened. “I told you. Oliver’s my buddy.” He went to the fridge and took out a soda. He offered it to me.

  Giving my head a shake, I squinted my eyes, studying the scene in my aunt’s kitchen. Aunt Leah had greeted Luke like he’d been here a million times before. Luke greeted Oliver as if Oliver was his nephew. And now he was helping himself to a can of soda from my aunt’s refrigerator? “Yeah, you said you’ve known him since birth. How is that possible? I’ve been here.”

  “Honey, why don’t you sit down.” Aunt Leah said. “You seem upset. Let’s talk about this.”

  I studied both of their faces. Part of me wanted to hear what they had to say. I wanted to know how Luke had developed a relationship with Oliver.

  He leaned over Oliver and made googly eyes at him. Oliver cackled again, nearly rolling over onto his stomach in the process. When Luke straightened, he popped open the can and took a drink, eying me as he did.

  While that part of me truly wanted to know, another part of me knew I didn’t have much time before the state police would show up to question Penelope, if they hadn’t already. I didn’t have time to figure out how Luke had made himself at home in what was supposed to be my life.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Leah,” I said. “I can’t. I would love to know what weird thing is going on here.” I motioned around the room, pointing between Oliver and Luke and between Luke and Aunt Leah. “But I need to run an errand. Can I borrow your car?”

  Luke narrowed his gaze at me—at the abrupt subject change. “Where are you going?”

  “That’s none of your business. You stay here and play with my nephew and eat my aunt’s food.”

  Aunt Leah sat a bowl of stew on the old farm table in the center of her kitchen. “You should eat something, honey.”

  “I will later.” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, then repeated, “Can I borrow your car?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “I won’t be gone long, I promise.” I grabbed Aunt Leah’s keys from a nearby hook, then went to Oliver. Bending over, I picked him up and lifted him high into the air, only to bring him down and give him a big, loud kiss. He giggled into my neck. It was the sweetest sound against my skin. And God, he smelled good—the sweet scent of baby.