Grave Secrets (7 page)

There. The book was lying open on Jason’s side of the bed; partially hidden by the covers she’d inadvertently thrown over it. She could have sworn she hadn’t picked up the book and read any during the night. Still... Shaking her head to clear her mind, as well as dispel the queasy sensations in the pit of her stomach, she retrieved the book, snapped it closed, then collected the mug. Still in her pajamas, she padded downstairs as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Other than her life—and sanity—slowly coming unraveled.

****

He leaned forward in his chair, coming closer to the monitor. He couldn’t have hoped for a better image, or clarity. Coughing up the extra dough on his last trip to Dallas for the high grade equipment had been worth it. His supplier hadn’t asked questions, nor did he keep records where his customers could be tracked. Probably how the man remained alive since most of the people he dealt with had criminal backgrounds. The supplier didn’t care as long as he made a buck.

Now he studied Sara as she stood in the doorway, surveying the bedroom. Anticipation built in him. Would his plan work? He’d plotted for months, finally settling on just how he’d get her out of the picture. He sneered. There didn’t seem to be any reason why he couldn’t have a little fun with her beforehand, though. He inched forward. Holding his breath, he almost willed her to see the partially hidden book. Then recognition and confusion lit her face.

“Yes! ’Bout time.” He almost pumped his fist in the air.

Only she didn’t panic or scream like he’d hoped. After the initial reaction, she’d just walked out of the room as if nothing had been wrong. “Well, hell. Looks like I’m going to have to get a bit more inventive.” He barked a laugh. He didn’t want easy. That wasn’t any fun. This way it’d be more entertaining.

Except for the cops digging up the stupid body, his plan was on schedule. But that was a minor inconvenience, one he could easily work around. He frowned. Why had they done that? He’d made sure Jason’s death looked like it was from natural causes. So why’d they dig him up? And why now?

“It doesn’t matter. You dumb jerks won’t find a thing. You aren’t smart enough.”

Still, he’d have to think of a way to “properly” thank the ever efficient Riverbend police force for the disruption. For now, he would move forward with his secondary plan. Stifling a hysterical laugh, he shut down the feed, anticipating his next move and just how terrified dear little Sara would be.

Sara’s well of intestinal fortitude was running dangerously low. The shrimp salad tasted like cardboard, the sweet tea bitter, and the noise in Riverbend’s newest restaurant deafening.

“You listening to me?” Cat leaned across the table, her chest coming close to dipping into her entrée. Her neon green scarf somehow complimented the tangerine top she wore, making her stand out in the conservative lunch crowd. At least her hair wasn’t quite as spiked as normal. Sara had chosen a silver pant suit with a teal silk top. She made a mental note to either go shopping or dig in her closet for a smaller size. No matter what she did, she kept losing weight.

Events of the morning had distracted Sara to the point of obsession. In her mind, she kept seeing Jason’s face. Did he move the book the night before? Of course that was ludicrous. Logically, she knew it was impossible. He was dead and she didn’t believe in ghosts. Mostly.

“Of course, I am.”

“Liar. You haven’t heard a word I said in the last ten minutes.”

Busted. “I’m sorry.” She smiled. “Forgive me?”

Cat grinned. “There isn’t anything to forgive. Hey, any news from the police or the grumpy dreamboat?”

“No. It’s too soon. They’ll let me know as soon as they can.” Cat didn’t need to know Morgan had been there last night or how he’d held her. Nor of the nightmarish events of the evening. Cat would think she’d finally lost it and ready for the psych ward. Which might not be too far off the mark. She shoved her fears of that happening into a mental box and turned the key.

“Lord, I want this over with. For your sake,”

“You and me both.”

They sat in silence for a while, ignoring everything, and everyone else, in the noisy restaurant.

Cat cleared her throat. “Um, I hate to add to your stress, but you’re on the front page of the paper today.”

Acid churned in Sara’s stomach. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish.”

Shoulders slumped, she stared at her plate and shook her head. When would this end? “What’d they say?”

“Actually, they had a picture of you.”

Okay. No big deal there. She and Jason had been in the paper numerous times.

“Of you in tall, dark and grumpy’s arms.
Which
, you forgot to tell me about, by the way.”

Sara ignored her last comment. “How did they...?”

Cat shrugged. “How any reporter finds out I guess. Anyway, there was a lot of speculation as to why they’d exhumed Jason’s body. None of it good.”

It didn’t take any stretch of the imagination to figure out what the article had said.
Oh, Lord.
“Did it say anything about the—the bag and its contents?” Her voice quivered.

“No, thank goodness. That would’ve been a nightmare. Guess the cops kept them far enough away so they couldn’t get any shots.”

Thank goodness for small favors. She dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin, laying it on the table. She’d had enough pretense for the day. With three-fourths of her salad uneaten, they paid their checks and made their way out of the crowded restaurant.

When they reached Sara’s car, Cat hugged her briefly. “Are you okay?”

“I could lie and say I’m just fine, but the truth is I’m pretty whipped. I don’t know why because I slept like a rock last night.”

“You finally took one of those sleeping pills. Good for you.” Cat gave her a thumbs up. “I’ve always said you shouldn’t put yourself through the torture you do every night. Me? I would’ve been downing ’em by the handfuls.”

“No, you wouldn’t, and you know it.” Sara didn’t want to admit what had really happened the previous night. In fact, she wasn’t sure herself.

“Probably not, but you know me, Miss Tough As Nails who can handle anything.”

At this stage in Cat’s life, she probably could. Sara envied her for it. “You’d better get going. You said you have a one o’clock appointment. Don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, shoot! I forgot.” She waved over her shoulder as her multi-colored skirt swished around her ankles and her five-inch sandal’s clicked on the pavement.

One of the things Cat had going for her was her sense of fashion. Sara wished she could be so free spirited and throw caution to the wind where her wardrobe was concerned. Except Cat didn’t just throw her outfits together. She had an uncanny sense of what would and wouldn’t work and the finished product was not only stylish, but uniquely Catherine. One day Sara expected to see Cat’s fashions parading down the runways in New York. Sara intended to be front and center, cheering on her friend.

Sara waved when Cat honked as her convertible went by, top down. She slowed briefly before pulling into traffic.

Sara took off her jacket and laid it in the back seat of her car. Once behind the wheel, she hesitated. She didn’t want to go home. The big house felt as if it had grown larger over the last two days, if that were possible. Sitting there alone was more than depressing. Where could she go, though? In the months since Jason’s death and Kaycee’s disappearance, she’d gone to the country club a few times as a diversion. It hadn’t helped much before and she doubted it would help now, especially since her picture had been plastered on the front page of the paper. More than likely, she’d be the center of gossip that would be disguised as concern.

Without consciously thinking about it, she turned the car in the opposite direction Cat had gone. The day was beautiful and a drive would do her good. However, twenty minutes later she found herself at the Riverbend Memorial Cemetery. They’d found a baby in Jason’s grave, and even though Sara knew all the way to the depths of her soul the baby wasn’t Kaycee, she felt the need to at least say a prayer where the infant had been lain. It might not be any comfort to the dead baby, but saying a prayer would certainly help Sara.

As usual, she didn’t look toward the graves, instead concentrating on the narrow road that eventually passed Jason’s gravesite. She parked and climbed out of the car, hugging her purse to her chest, the big one with room for Kaycee’s bunny. She’d often take it out and caress it after she’d placed fresh flowers on Jason’s grave, as if the simple action made the three of them a family again. The old adage about not appreciating what you have until you lose it was more than true. Once she’d given birth, Sara thought her world couldn’t be more perfect. And it had been. Until a month later when her world turned upside down. Anguish over her missing daughter ate at her every waking minute of every day. Sara functioned, but just barely. At times, only her determination to find Kaycee kept her going.

She would never give up, never stop looking, never accept her child had been buried in Jason’s grave. Not without positive proof.

Partway up the small incline, she glanced toward the grave and came to an abrupt halt. The large mound of dirt on the other side of the open hole brought back the prior day’s nightmare. She took the remaining steps to the side of the grave. Gripping her purse even tighter, she closed her eyes and said a fervent prayer for the mysterious baby as well as Kaycee and Jason. She allowed tears to stream down her cheeks, crying for the loss of an innocent child. Whoever had buried the baby must have had their reasons, but she couldn’t imagine what. Everyone deserved a decent burial.

Finally, unable to bear the anguish any longer, she dried her eyes and took a step back from the opening. Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and nearly threw her off her feet. She screamed.

“Whoa there, little lady.”

Foul breath assaulted her. Even worse was the stench of his clothes. The man had blood shot eyes and the few teeth he still had were yellow. His straggly muddy brown hair hung past the tattered shirt collar. She’d been exposed to drunks, but they’d all been in business suits, not someone off the streets. Regardless of how they dressed, a drunk was a drunk and you couldn’t reason with them. She’d quickly learned that lesson at the club. A lot of people thought because they had money, it excused them from acting civil when they thought they were in “private.” Not a train of thought she or Jason adhered to, thank goodness. She mentally shook herself. Right now she had more pressing concerns.

Don’t panic. He’s harmless. Just stay calm and he’ll leave you alone.
Please, God, let him leave me alone.

“Thank you for your assistance, but I’m fine now. You can release me.” The urge to pull out of his grimy grasp and run was overpowering. She stood her ground, though, with a strained grin on her face, trying to look grateful, afraid her expression reflected her fear.

“Well, now,” he said before he turned his head to the side, then spit on the ground. “Leaz not be too hasty. I don’ mind a bit of compnee’ and I’ll be right proud to share my bottle wi’ a lady like you.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m late for an appointment and have to leave, so if you’ll just release me, I’ll be going.” This time, she did tug her arm, hoping to get out of his grasp. For a drunk, he had surprising strength.

“Naw. I don’ think so.” He reached into his back pocket with his left hand and pulled out a bottle, shoving it toward her face.

Instinctively, she scrunched up her nose and pulled back.

“Aw, now, don’t be that way, little missy. You think yer too good for the likes of me? Well, ya’ ain’t,” he said as he pressed closer.

Oh, God, oh, God!
Heart pounding a mile a minute, she yanked with all her might, trying to pull away from him—only to find his hold turn into a vice grip. Bile clogged her throat as she realized she was alone in the cemetery with this man. If she screamed, chances were no one would hear her. Cat had taught her how to defend herself, but she couldn’t remember any of it, which added to her panic.

She continued jerking against him. Stench from his breath gagged her. She tried to knee him in the groin. It was a feeble attempt at best, and she knew she’d made a mistake the minute she did it. His eyes flared as he pitched the still closed bottle to the side and grabbed both her arms, tightening his hold. The half-way smile that had been on his face was replaced by a scowl.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

She continued to fight him, tearing her sleeve in the process. But the silk shirt was the least of her worries.

“Let. Me. Go.” Increasing her attempt to get away, she started kicking him anywhere she could, striking him numerous times in the shin. He howled and hopped around, releasing one of her arms. Sara twisted away from the open hole, slapping and kicking the man as he cussed her.

Surprisingly, her purse still hung from her shoulder. When he grabbed the handle, Sara lost all self control and immediately latched onto the body of the bag, unwilling to let him have Kaycee’s rabbit. She yanked the handles out of his grip, then holding the purse firmly with both hands, lashed out at him with all the pent up anguish from the last few months. The first frantic swing caught him on the side of the head. He released her and brought both arms up as a shield.

Ignoring his yelps, she continued to bombard him, causing him to step back with each blow. Sara lost all sense of time and place as she lashed out blindly. All the hurt, the pain, the never ending loneliness from the last six months consumed her. She didn’t know how many times she hit him, when suddenly he stopped. Eyes wide, he looked behind him in disbelief, swinging his arms wildly.

And fell into the open grave.

The man’s scream ended with a loud thump. Ashamed and pleased at the same time, Sara hoped she hadn’t killed the wretched beast. Peering over the edge, she saw a slight movement. At least he was alive. But the six foot drop had to have hurt. Even in his drunken state.