Jo hesitated. “I went to see my mother.”
Unexpected relief softened his mood. An odd reaction, considering the last time he’d seen his ex-mother-in-law she had backed him up against a hospital wall after Jo’s miscarriage and threatened to cut his balls off if he ever again looked at Jo. “How was your mother this morning?”
She took extra care to straighten out the folds of her jacket. “She’s doing well. Though she did happen to drop by my house yesterday, and she wasn’t happy to hear I was out with you.”
Brody shook his head. “I can only imagine all the ways she dreamed of gutting me.”
“She didn’t share specifics, but I get the sense she’ll be sharpening her knives this afternoon.”
Smiling, Brody kept his gaze ahead. “I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for a crazed blonde who favors rhinestones. She is still blond, isn’t she?”
“She’s still blond but doesn’t favor the rhinestones much anymore.”
“Good to know.” He wove through town and was soon pulling onto I-35 headed south and wondering how he’d managed to start this Sunday morning talking about his ex-mother-in-law.
She pursed her lips. “I mentioned Smith to Mom.”
“You discuss your cases with your mother a lot?”
“No, never. But he unsettled me yesterday. I shouldn’t be, but I am. I wanted to understand the root of the emotions, and I thought Mom could help.”
Brody frowned. “Did she?”
“ No.”
After a brief silence, he said, “I spent the better part of the night trying to figure out your exchange with Smith.”
She twisted in her seat toward him. “It all could have been a game. We don’t know if Smith was telling us the truth about the bodies.”
He tipped his head. “Care to take a bet on whether Smith was lying or telling the truth?”
She frowned, stared at him a beat and then shifted her gaze back to the road. “No.”
“Smart.”
They arrived at the crime scene at ten minutes after eight. A dozen DPS marked cars, lights flashing, and several black Ranger Broncos stood parked at the end of a long, winding, dirt road. Last night’s rain had cleared but had left the ground soggy and muddy. From her pack, Jo pulled out rubber boots and slipped them on over her flat shoes.
Brody didn’t comment but she caught his sideways glance. In school he’d teased her about always being prepared. “You should have been a Boy Scout,” he’d said.
Her boots squished into sucking mud and a small, very nasty part of her hoped Brody was now ankle deep in mud. Closing the car door, she hefted her backpack on her shoulder and moved around the side of the car to meet Rangers Jim Beck and Rick Santos.
Jim Beck was tall, muscular, with dark hair. Santos was as tall but his build leaner. Like Brody, both men wore the customary khakis, sport jacket, tie and cowboy boots with their white Stetsons.
Her smile was genuine as she extended her hand to both Jim and Santos. “Not such a great way to start a day.”
Jim shrugged and sipped from a black travel mug. “If Smith was telling the truth, it will be worth it.”
Santos yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “More sleep would have been mighty welcome. But I reckon it’s not so bad.”
Brody stood by Jo, extending his hand to the Rangers. The three had never been assigned to the same office until a couple of weeks ago, but a Ranger’s jurisdiction often crossed county lines into another territory. They’d all worked together on several cases, most recently an Austin kidnapping that ended with the suspect’s arrest in Houston.
“There is no record of Smith owning this land. However, the registered “owner” is a corporation, which after some digging offered the name Tate Jones. We drill down a little deeper, I bet we find a link to Smith. But it explains why this property never popped up on our radar during the investigation.”
Beck frowned. “I wonder what other corporations he’s set up and used as a front to buy property.”
Brody stared at the wide-open land around them. “I hate to think.” He shifted his attention back to the Rangers. “According to Smith, the bodies would be near what’s left of that barn. Are the guys here with the ground-penetrating radar?”
A truck rolled down the long road, kicking up mud. The vehicle parked behind Brody’s car and two men in jumpsuits emerged.
“Speak of the devil,” Jim said. “Shouldn’t be long before they’re set up and ready to go.”
A wind blew across the flat, scrubby land, and Jo burrowed deeper into her jacket. She’d intended to make a thermos of coffee but had not expected Brody to be in her driveway early.
She rubbed her hands together. “You and Lara ready for the big day? T minus six days and counting.”
Jim grinned. “About as ready as you can get. She’s been so busy shooting pictures for a new summer exhibit that she’s barely taken time for the fitting.”
“I’ve seen the dress, and it fits her perfectly. She’ll be stunning.”
Pride burned in Jim’s gaze. “I’ve not one bit of doubt. I hear you’re getting together with her and Cassidy tonight.”
She’d totally forgotten. Damn. “That’s right. Seven. A vegetarian cantina in Austin.”
“Try not to get too wild and crazy at this bachelorette party.”
“It’s not me you have to worry about,” Jo said. “It’s Cassidy.”
“And I’m counting on you to be the levelheaded one that says no. Lara’s too nice.”
“I promise.”
The forensic techs unloaded the ground penetrating radar, which looked much like a push mower with large wheels and a computer screen mounted on the handle. At first, progress was slowgoing, guiding the device through the muck, but the technicians soon had the machine past the line of police cars and worked their way toward what remained of the barn.
Brody and the Rangers moved closer to the search site. Jo straightened, trying to work the kinks from her back. As much as she wanted peace for the victims’ families, a big part of her hoped Smith had been lying. Logic suggested that the summons to West Livingston, the lies about the graves, and all his mind games were intended to stir trouble for trouble’s sake.
The slow and meticulous process of pushing the GPR in a gridlike fashion began, and Jo was left with the Rangers to stand and watch the process.
The barn had all but collapsed on itself though stubborn chips of red paint still clung to grayed and weather-ravaged boards that lay in a heap on the ground. Tall weeds peppered the land around the barn’s old footprint and had woven their way up through the boards. In five years there’d be no trace of the place.
Across the field Brody stood, his hands on his hips, as he watched the technicians work. Her mother would call her a fool for saying this, but she could see that he’d changed in fourteen years. He wasn’t the swaggering baseball player with a quick story or a joke. He was a serious man. Hard to be a Marine and a Ranger, witness what they did, and not grow up.
He’d been the lead for the human trafficking case last year. She’d watched the news, and camera crews caught a glimpse of Brody leading a twelve-year-old girl out of a storage shed. The girl had been crying and filthy, covered in weeks of grime. And she’d been wearing Brody’s jacket. He’d had his arm draped protectively around her thin shoulders, as a father would his own child.
She never stopped to ask if he was married now. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band but many cops didn’t. The less the bad guys knew about you, the better. Picturing him with a wife and children sent a flush of embarrassment racing up her neck and face. He’d been frozen in time for her these last fourteen years. She’d always pictured him surrounded by cheerleaders or, with her studying, trying to find a reason why he should care about Shakespeare. Or children. But because she couldn’t picture it didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
Emotion she’d not expected or wanted rose up in her, tightening her chest. Made sense he’d move on with his life. Mo
st everyone had. Except her.
“I think we found something,” the technician called.
She shook off the sting of emotion and watched as Brody, Jim and Santos walked toward the GPR. The technician pointed to the screen and then at the ground, nodding his head sideways as if he were as surprised as everyone else.
The technician placed an orange flag in the ground and continued pushing the GPR over the soggy earth. Ten minutes later he raised his hand, indicating another hit. Another ten minutes and another hit. Three bodies. Just as Smith had said.
A deep sense of unease strengthened and coiled around her insides.
Brody spoke to the technicians and though she could not hear, it was clear from his expression he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted the land north of the barn also searched.
A grim frown deepened the lines on the technician’s face, but he pushed the machine through the muck.
Brody stood in the center of the first field, three orange flags circling him. He’d been trying to get answers for three families for over three years and now he was close.
However, his grim expression held no hint of satisfaction. He looked sad, and judging by the deep lines at his temples and the dark circles under his eyes, he was exhausted.
“Winchester!” the tech shouted. “I’ve found another one here.”
The hum of conversation silenced and everyone watched as Brody, Jim and Santos moved toward the site.
Four bodies. Not three.
They’d all expected Smith to lie.
And he had.
Robbie stared into the small television, which televised an image from a hunter’s camera secured high in the trees above his burial site. His plot of land now swarmed with a sea of cop cars and Texas Rangers. They’d found Smith’s bodies. And his.
He sat back, folded his arms over his chest and smiled. The fact that the cops were here meant that Harvey had sent them. No way they’d have found this place without Harvey.
Robbie smiled. Harvey had read his message in the classifieds, and he’d sent the cops. Not to punish him but to say, I know, boy. I know.