Buried (A Bone Secrets Novel 03) (38 page)

“And she met up with Hinkes that way? That’s implying Hinkes was still in association with the governor back then…or whatever position he held at that time.”

“Why would the governor maintain a relationship with a scumbag he prosecuted? Especially a potentially murdering scumbag?” Mason was afraid to let his brain follow the possibilities presented by that train of thought.

Ray’s brain zipped right up the path. “Because he needed someone to do some sort of dirty work.”

“And he exchanged it for getting him off the murder charge,” Mason finished.
Fuck.
“This isn’t a TV show. Shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.”

“It shouldn’t,” agreed Ray. “But we have to look at this.”

Mason glanced at his speedometer and saw he was over the speed limit by twenty-five miles per hour. He let up on the gas, his leg aching to push harder. “I don’t like this theory.”

“It’s making my stomach cringe. This is our fucking governor. The people in this state are crazy about him. He seems to be a great guy.”

“Well, people thought the same about Ted Bundy.”

“Governor Brody isn’t a serial killer.”

“No, but I think he might have hung out with one.”

The sky was barely lightening as Michael and Chris drove up the long, winding driveway to the governor’s mansion. It looked like a manicured park. There were tall fir trees and flawless grassy slopes with large, artfully arranged boulders that looked like they’d always been part of the landscape. The huge Tudor house came into sight, and Chris craned his neck to see the entire home.

“I can’t believe one of them made it this far.”

Michael smiled. “They’ve both done real well. They’re naturals for politics.”

“I remember.”

“How much have you followed them?”

Chris shrugged. “Here and there. I’d go through spurts and follow them online quite a bit for a few months. Then tell myself to not pay attention. That’d work for a while until one of them did or said something that got the press’s attention.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good at that.” Michael studied his brother. “How long did you hold on to the politics dream?”

Chris snorted. “That vanished immediately. I never even considered it when I came back. The thought of all that spotlight made me want to puke. I did everything I could to stay off camera when they found me and continued that for years. I didn’t want someone saying, ‘Hey, you don’t really look like Chris.’ That was my biggest fear. That I would be found out, break my parents’ hearts, and then
he
would find out. He’d destroy everyone if he knew I still lived. I’d lose my parents and your parents and you permanently.”

“Christ.”

“That’s a heavy load for a kid to carry,” Chris said. “I’m lucky I’m not too crazy. Just a little reserved.”

Michael raised a brow at his brother.
Reserved?
Chris gave him a sarcastic half grin that speared him in the heart. It was eerily familiar yet unknown at the same time.

They’d lost so much time.

“You’re a fucking hermit.”

“Jesus, watch your mouth.” Chris checked the backseat. Brian was still deep in the sleep of the very young.

Kids could sleep through anything.

“I was kidding. I know full well what I’ve done to my life,” said Chris.

“You need to change it. You’ve got a kid who deserves to know his family. And we need to know him.”

“I’m making the change. Once the ghost is gone, I’ll bring Brian to meet everyone.”

“What if we don’t find the ghost? What if he slips away? Are you going back to living under a rock? That’s no life for a kid. Shit, that’s no life for anyone.”

“I’m done hiding,” Chris stated simply. He held Michael’s gaze.

Michael stopped at a pole with a keypad and rolled down his window. “Better be. I’m not letting you go again,” he muttered. He punched a six-digit code into the pad. A rolling gate with bars slid across the driveway.

The home was a tall two-story sprawling mansion. The driveway circled in front of the elegant entrance, but Michael veered sharply to the left and down a slope that angled to the back of the house. There was a basement level below the home, built into the slope.

“That’s the garage? Below the house?”

Michael nodded. “There’s room for a good ten vehicles under the house.”

“You have the code?”

“I’ve been barging in here for the last four years. Uncle Phil hosted a hell of a birthday party for me at the mansion last year. Security is very tight. He has a full-time bodyguard-slash-personal assistant, but family has all the codes.”
Except you.

Chris didn’t say anything. Michael suspected he was experiencing the same odd disconnected feeling that he was. Chris was his brother…but he wasn’t. He was part of his family…but he wasn’t.

The man had missed out on a lot.

Did he want to be fully embraced back into their high-profile family?

“It’s gonna be a big deal in the press.” Michael didn’t expand.

“I know,” Chris said quietly.

“You’re gonna be everywhere. Everyone is going to want a piece of you and Brian.”

His brother shifted in his seat. “I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

Chris was silent.

Michael pulled the Range Rover under the house, found an empty spot next to a sedan, and parked. Four other vehicles silently filled other parking slots. One looked like his father’s Mercedes, but Michael wasn’t certain. They all looked alike to him. He turned to his brother.

“Is that what you want? Do you want the hoopla? Can you handle the exposure and press?”

Chris turned to him, his eyes hard and determined. “No, I don’t want all that shit,” he said hoarsely. “What I want is my family back. I want to go for beers with you and talk till they close the bar down. I want to go camping and scare the crap out of you in the middle of the night with cheesy sounds and shadows like I used to. I want Brian to sit on the floor in front of the Christmas tree while Jamie and Cecilia take pictures and spoil him with every holiday cookie they can bake.
That’s
what I want. I don’t want all the other crap.”

The wave of emotion poured out of Chris and slapped Michael in the face. He blinked. Hard. The brothers stared at each other.

“Mom is sick,” Michael said. “Did you know that?”

Chris paled. “How sick?”

“It’s bad. She needs a new kidney. She doesn’t get out much these days. She resigned at the hospital. She’s still on all the big
boards, of course, but she doesn’t make it to the meetings.” Michael studied his brother.
Does Chris think of her as his mother still?

Chris was silent. Michael could see thoughts spinning through his head.

How did it feel to know the mother you haven’t seen in two decades was extremely ill?

“I want to see her. Today. Once we talk to the senator, I want to go see her today,” he repeated.

To Michael, the words sounded difficult for Chris. How hard was it for him to step out of his cocoon of protection? Seeing their mother and explaining his story was a huge step.

Michael finally spoke. “We’ll make that Christmas scene happen. I have no doubt.”

“I’m gonna have to choose,” Chris said. “I don’t know if I can survive the publicity.”

Determination to protect his little brother welled up in Michael. Here was something he could do for his brother. Finally. “Leave that part to me.”

Uncertainty filled Chris’s gaze. “We’ll see. I’ll know what I need to do when it starts happening.”

Michael put his hand on the door. “Are you coming upstairs?”

Chris glanced in the backseat. “I’m gonna stay here. Let him sleep.”

Michael nodded. His brother wasn’t ready to face his father yet. But he would do it. On his own time. At least he was ready to see their mother.

“Okay. Come on up if he wakes or you feel like it. I don’t know how long this will take.”

Chris watched Michael jog across the parking garage toward the stairs, and he felt like a big pussy. He was going to have to face the senator. Soon. But waking him up first thing in the morning didn’t seem the right way to accomplish it. And they needed to see Cecilia. Chris had already lost one set of parents after not seeing them for years. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. If Cecilia was as ill as Michael said, Chris needed to see her now. She deserved to know her son was still alive.

Had he done the right thing? Should he have contacted them years ago?

He blew out a lungful of air and relaxed into the seat. The soft breathing in the backseat calmed him.

He’d done what he had to do. Sure enough, the Ghostman had proved that he’d still been out there and had been keeping an eye out for him. If he’d suddenly decided to tell the world who he really was, he could have risked the lives of all the Brodys.

But now he was going to put an end to the Ghost. He and Michael weren’t going to give up until Jamie was back and the Ghost was gone. Then Brian would be safe.

Chris frowned. Would there ever be a time he could let Brian out of his sight and be relaxed? He couldn’t keep an eye on the boy forever. What if Michael wanted to take him out for ice cream? Would he let Brian go?

Chris’s stomach churned.

But this was Michael. Michael would protect the boy with his life. Chris had no doubt.
But would he be diligent in watching him?

It just took one second. One second where your gaze was distracted and things happened to a child. He rubbed his wet palms on his shorts.
Christ
. He needed therapy.

If he was going to jump back into the mainstream, he would need to let Brian have some space. He’d taught him well. The boy knew how to be careful and not to trust strangers.

But he’s a child.

Chris closed his eyes and tipped his head against the seat. What he really wanted to do was bang it against the wall. He knew what was right. He knew what to do. But the thought of doing it was making him ill.
Time to grow a pair.

A faint thumping sound made his eyes open. He turned to look at Brian. All quiet.

The sound thumped again. Twice.

He scanned the parking garage, every nerve in his body on alert.
Who else was in the garage?
The garage was well lit, brighter than the hazy morning outside the walls. No one moved.

Thumping.

A movement out of the corner of his eye jolted his gaze to the adjacent sedan.
Did that car just move?
No one was in the seats. Chris stretched a bit to see down into the foot area of the backseat, but couldn’t. He glanced at Brian and opened his door.

The car rocked slightly in time to two thumps.

He slowly slid out of the SUV, leaving his door open, took three steps to the sedan, and peered through the windows into the darkness of the backseat. The car was empty. No one in the backseat.

Someone’s in the trunk.

Instant sweat moistened Chris’s armpits and upper lip. “Fuck,” he whispered. He stared hard at the trunk. The car was a newer American sedan.

He waited for more thumps.

All quiet.

He moved behind the sedan and bent over the trunk, listening hard.

Nothing.

Had he imagined the noise? No. He’d definitely heard something and had seen the car vibrate with the sound. He held out a hand four inches above the trunk, as if he could hear better through his palm. Still quiet.

He straightened.
Now what?

He looked at Michael’s SUV and couldn’t see through the privacy glass to Brian in the backseat. His passenger side door hung open, waiting for anyone to hop in the vehicle. He strode back to the SUV and cupped his hands around his eyes against the glass to see his son.

Brian was sleeping. Head sideways, mouth ajar.

Chris commanded his heart rate to slow.

Thumping shook the car behind him. Chris whirled around and saw the movement. He walked to the back of the car and pounded on the trunk. “Hey! Someone in there?”

Frenzied thumping answered him.

And faint screams?

“
Jesus Christ!
” Chris ran his hands along the back edge of the trunk, his fingers frantically feeling for the release mechanism. He pushed and tugged at each little piece of metal until he felt the trunk give a popping sensation. The lid smoothly eased open, and Chris stared into his sister’s wild eyes.