Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) (28 page)

She did not want to wake up without fresh clothes and some personal things, even though she kept a pair of jeans and some makeup over at his house. This sounded like a good plan. She had already agreed to move in with him for a while, just until this whole thing blew over.

If it would ever be over.

“Can we get in to the back building?” I asked.

“We’re trying to find a judge now for a search warrant. I’m sure it will be forthcoming. For now we go by the book, right Cassidy? And I need you to be careful. Stay close to me. One of our uniforms places Vickery in this home, and unless she’s a goddamn Houdini she’s still in there.”

I called Jaxon’s home phone. He answered on the first ring.

“A car is already here. What good is that? She’s not here and I can’t reach her.”

“Uniforms are at the television station and at her home.”

“You and I both know she’s not at either place.”

“They’ll get a ping from her cell phone,” I said. “I have to take another call.”

My shadow.

His labored voice cried out, “Vickery is back at her house. I repeat, she’s there.”

“Are you okay?”

“Negative. I’ve been shot about a mile north of her property.”

“Help is on the way,” I said.

“Time. Too much time is wasted,” I managed to say to myself after calling for the ambulance. My voice sounded like a throat coated in lighter fuel with a match ready to strike. I called Jaxon back.

“I’m at Vickery’s house right now. Can you tell me anything that would help us figure out where your ex might be stashing more evidence?”

“More evidence? You found something?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking. The woman is immaculate. Anal. I’m sure everything you need is there for you. Just look!”

Obviously he knew a different woman than the one currently occupying Sandra’s second floor. I didn’t dare tell him it would take us a week, if not more, to sort through all of the rubbish she had stuffed into the upstairs rooms.

“I need you to calm down. I’m on your side. What can you tell me about the physical structure of this place? What’s the layout?”

He took in an audible breath. “Her father designed it. He used an architect, but it was his design. Maybe twenty years ago.”

“Is there anything special about this house? I mean, beyond the size and luxuries?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“This is going to sound crazy, but bear with me. Maybe a hidden room? You know, like a panic room?”

“I lived there. I never saw anything.”

“Keep following me. What about the garage?”

“It’s a friggin’ big garage. What are you looking for?”

The odd elevation still pressed random black images into my mind’s eye. A strange slope. Nothing computed. Nothing good, anyway.

“What about the outbuilding?”

“It was just a shed when I was there. A damn fine shed, but a shed. The old man stored his two golf carts in there.” His voice grew anxious. “What does this have to do with Jessica?”

I had seen enough of the outbuilding during my illicit visit to know there was no door wide enough even to provide access for the smallest golf cart. But then again, the building wasn’t just a shed anymore. Still, I should have been able to detect an old path.

“How did Vickery’s father access that shed?”

“Oh, damn! That’s right. The old man used to bitch about getting his golf carts out there so he started in on new plans. He had grandiose ideas about constructing an underground tunnel leading toward nothing. Nothing when I was there. But I’m pretty sure he intended to take down the shed and erect a big building. He had vague plans to turn it into a garage for his carts, and a family bunker. Food storage. He would be able to drive his carts straight through the garage and to the other building.”

The idea was ludicrous. The ground out there was pure caliche, like concrete soil. Who would bother?

“Do you think someone is back there? Is this helping you?” Jaxon demanded.

“You’re helping. I understand fearful people want a bunker. Even a panic room. And I know Mr. Vickery had all the money he needed. It just seems odd that he would go through the expense of carving out an underground tunnel. Do you know why?”

“Sure. Some excavation company owed Sandra’s dad a ton of money. Something about cheating him on several properties they had not properly unearthed for pools. He said something about making them pay him back by digging out a stupid tunnel. Called it his future speakeasy. And I assure you, it was anything but because the shed remained there at his death.”

I slipped back into the garage, well aware of the arrival of a detective with his eyes trained on me. Detectives don’t think much of private dicks, until we bring them the goods that they take credit for and then go and receive their special plaques of recognition.

Jaxon grew more anxious. I heard something slam to the ground.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Just mad. And feeling helpless. Maybe I should come over there.”

“You need to stay right where you are in case Jessica shows up. It could be she’s been trying to call you and you don’t have your phone.”

“Right. And you know better. You’re talking to me on my landline.”

“I need you to keep talking me through what I’m looking at. Pour yourself a drink and sit down.”

“I’m on my second one.”

“Then sip it. I need you alert. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m in the garage and I need your help. What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know. You tell me!”

“You just said that there was some sort of an intended tunnel with access through this garage. I need to know where that access is, or was. Or might be. I don’t see anything.”

“Ummm. The far side. Go to the far west side.”

Manning called out to me.

“I’m just looking around the garage. Gloves on, Chief,” I yelled back.

“Silva isn’t at her home, but her car is.”

Shit! Jaxon heard that!

“I’m coming over.”

“No. Absolutely not. They’ll detain you at the door. I need you now more than ever. I’m at the back wall. I see a row of steel shelving. One unit has hand tools. Wires. Light bulbs. The next one is full of gardening supplies. Next one has a bunch of paint cans on it.”

Silence.

“Jaxon?”

“Damn, it’s been a long time. But the paint cans. Are they mostly empty?”

I picked up a few. “Yes.”

“That’s it. The shelving unit is light. It’s affixed to some sort of bracket. You can move it ajar from the side.

“Got it! We’re getting there!”

“Wait. When you pull it open it was being designed to trigger a light throughout the tunnel.”

Too late.

“Jaxon, I’m running out of battery. I can’t talk, anyway. I probably won’t have any reception. I need you to disconnect and call 911. Tell them that I am at the scene with Chief Manning, and I need backup. Describe the garage and the tunnel.”

He hung up. God, I had to hope he wasn’t jumping in to his car.

Shoving my cell phone, almost depleted of power, into my pocket, I reached for both my Glock and a flashlight. I’d take it real slow on the flashlight.

I noted black tracks on the concrete floor. Yes. That fancy of a tunnel. Sure enough, they were either from a golf cart, or maybe a small ATV.

The musty air held no scent of any lingering gasoline fumes. Could be electric carts. I shined my flashlight to the ceiling. Impressive. A ventilating system. Whomever built this tunnel should team up with the illegals across the border. The Ritz Carlton approach to tunnels. I caught myself in a nervous pre-giggle, wondering why artwork didn’t adorn the walls.

Interesting to me, I could surmise that it was a straight shot back to the outbuilding. This tunnel had more twists and turns than Space Mountain. The old man must have had a sense of humor, milking his cheating excavator for every cent he owed him, with hard and ridiculous labor.

The curvatures in the path suited me well. I had ample corners for covers and safe use of the flashlight. I could stop and listen.

Silence. Maybe I was wrong.

Then the hairs stood up on the back of my neck the way they do. While not wholly audible, I could feel the whimpers.

And the evil.

I heard nothing but silence, but I could feel more cries for help. Mind you, I did not hear them.

I snaked my way further into the tunnel, having lost all perspective as to how far I had walked and how far it would be until I reached the outbuilding.

I neared something. The end of the tunnel? Seriously?

No. It was another door. I didn’t feel secure using my flashlight so I groped my way toward the frame and the glint of light coming from beneath it.

Solid. Massive. Locked. I needed to know how it was secured so I turned on my flashlight for an instant. I could pick it. Quickly and quietly. I pulled out my tools as I held my flashlight in my mouth. And there it was. Checkmarks on the wall. Twelve of them. With a happy face for each. All written in crayon.

Twelve? Did we have more missing women?

The lock clicked open without much as a whispering creak. Good. My flashlight was off as I could see the room illuminated. So brilliant I was blinded.

I motioned with fingers for her to be quiet. Her brilliant bright eyes engorged so that all I saw were the whites.

My own eyes still needed time to adjust to the blazing influx of light. And I knew it was a light that would not be seen on the outside of the structure because there were no windows.

My cell phone rang. Crap. I didn’t turn it off, after all.

“Don’t turn that phone off. Put the caller on speaker, I know it’s my husband,” the familiar voice rang out from somewhere above me.

I did as Sandra Vickery instructed.

“I’m here. I’m in the tunnel. Help is on the way, but I need to talk to Sandy.”

“Sondra,” she yelled out.

“There’s an army coming for you, San--Sondra. You and I both know there’s no way out. I’m here and I’m coming in. You can shoot me, if you want. No one else needs your wrath. I’m the cause of your hurt.”

“As always, your timing is lousy, Jaxon. You either come to early or too bloody late. Let’s chat, if that’s what you want. I have two of your pretties, and all the pretty ones will fall.”

“Don’t do anything until…”

My phone went dead.

I saw the gun trained on me.

“Move over to the corner, Ms. Clark. Sit down and toss me that toy gun.”

“You forget I’m aiming for your heart,” I said.

I could see her slip down a short staircase and scurry behind Jessica Silva. She aimed her gun at Jessica’s temple. “Good point. Thanks for the tip. Now slowly go to the corner and make room for Jaxon. I’ve been dying to see him.”

Moving to the dark corner, I kept my gun on target, in spite of Jessica’s tied-up body being used as a shield. I sat down. “I’m a pretty good marksman. Think I’ll just keep my toy.”

Jaxon rushed into the large warehouse space. He thrust his arms into the air, “No weapons.”

“You were always such a wimp, Jaxon. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Jaxon froze. His stance, tall. “What happened to you, Sandy?”

“This is not about me. It never has been. There were some obstacles in the course of us being together again. That’s all. I’ve let you and your lurid affair with this dingbat reporter go on far too long. One final obstacle. We will be together, Jaxon.”

“There is no us. There never will be. There is no affair because there is no us. We are divorced. We had a good run but it didn’t work. Don’t you get it? Did you kill those women?”

“I removed my competition.”

“Jesus! I barely knew most of them.”

“It doesn’t matter. They were all going to go after you.”

“You’re so bloody messed up. Sick in the head! I was a fool for ever marrying you. You are out of my life!”

“You can’t mean that, Jaxon.”

“Do you want to know what I really think? “I would call you a cunt but you don’t have the depth or the warmth.”

Vickery jumped up. Her heart, unprotected, left her vulnerable and I knew I could take the shot. Except for the gun aimed at Jessica Silva.

Calculating, for only a few seconds, Vickery reached up and flipped a panel of switches behind her.

We were left in a total black abyss until the gunshot flared. A big flash from the direction of Vickery. It was Jaxon that screamed out in pain.

I had underestimated her. She knew all of her targets. I didn’t think she’d take a shot at the love of her life. I could see nothing. There was no depth. No more flickers of light. No glow. Only the flash from the firing of her gun.

I heard a clunk from another position in the vast room. I heard the odd splashing sound, a women’s voice screaming in pain, and another quick gun shot.

Silence, but if stench has a voice, it came with an ear-piercing shriek.

I hollered, “Jaxon, are you okay?”
“My shoulder. I’ll be fine”.

“Jessica?”

The muffled moans were a good sign.

“What the hell just happened?” Jaxon yelled.