Betrayed Page 12

  Keri joined them at the table. “Thank you. Do you mind if I order a coffee first?”

  “Get on with it, Keri. You have five minutes. This isn’t going to be one of the drawn-out tales you’re famous for. State the facts and then I’m out of here to think about whatever it is you have to say. If you haven’t gotten to the meat and bones of your side of the story within five minutes, that’s your problem. Because I will leave in five minutes. Got it?”

  “Yes. You made it perfectly clear by repeating it over and over.”

  “For your benefit, trust me.” Piper regarded her Apple watch, pushed the stem a couple of times and set the timer. “Go. You have five minutes.”

  “You’re setting a timer? That’s a lot of pressure to put me under. I don’t know if I can do this in five minutes.”

  “It’s heading toward four minutes, now. You better hurry.”

  Keri remained silent for several seconds. She tapped the table with her acrylic, French manicured nails and finally began. “Look. Jack has been impossible since I became pregnant. He does not want this baby. He pressured me to abort.”

  “You’re too far along for an abortion.”

  Keri grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped at her mouth. “Not a couple of months ago. Now he hits me in the abdomen, trying to make me miscarry. But,” Keri rubbed her stomach, “your niece is a strong one.” She patted her mouth again.

  For some reason, Piper didn’t believe her sister. She knew Jack and liked him. He was a true Southern gentleman. She’d never even seen him raise his voice to Keri. “I’m sorry for your problems, but you’re not going to goad me into feeling sorry for you.” Piper glanced at the timer. “This has nothing to do with you reading my journal. You only have less than three minutes left.”

  “Don’t you see? At first, I read your journals to see if maybe Jack said anything I could use against him in court. I want out of this loveless marriage. I want full custody of my baby. Then when I began reading what you went through—which was so much more than I knew—and I thought I knew everything about you—I had to keep reading. It broke my heart. I assumed I knew all you had gone through. I had no idea.”

  Tazzie sat up and put her head on her master’s thigh. Piper took a few deep breaths to quell the anxiousness rising from the depths of her subconsciousness. Not always, but a good percentage of the time, just the mention of that time would trigger a panic attack. This wasn’t bad—it didn’t draw near to the level of an attack. She considered Keri’s story. She tried to walk a mile in her sister’s shoes, a trick one of her journalism professors taught her. She closed her eyes to try to see what Keri saw, what she heard, what she thought, and what she experienced when in the situation Keri described.

  Keri started to speak, but Piper held up the index finger on her right hand and said, “Shh.” Piper imagined being Keri. How she might feel knowing her husband didn’t want their baby; knowing the father would do anything to make her abort, even beat her in her last stage of pregnancy. She pictured her sister finding Piper’s journal and wondering whether there was anything in the journal that would help her divorce Jack and to keep her baby.

  The exercise didn’t work. Piper couldn’t picture Jack acting that way. It was a leap. Her brother-in-law wouldn’t do anything to hurt Keri or the baby.

  “I don’t buy your story. Still, if it is true, you should have asked for my help. Not read my journal without my permission. You invaded my privacy—you read my private chronicle of the worst time in my life.” Piper stood. “Time’s up.” Tazzie lined herself next to Piper, ready to move as one unit.

  Keri stood, too. “Not fair. You stole some of my time. Don’t desert me. Don’t cross me.”

  “Don’t threaten me. I didn’t hear an explanation about why you broke up Jaxson and me.” Piper waited but Keri didn’t as much twitch her mouth like she was about to provide her side. “Just as I thought. And no one deserts you. You don’t allow them to. You abandon them first.” Piper pushed past her sister then added, “I need to think. I don’t think I can get past this. Don’t call me, text me, or email me. I don’t want to see you. When and if I’m ready to speak with you again, I’ll contact you.” Tazz followed Piper out of the coffee shop, leaving Keri behind.

  Chapter 38

  The hot SUV baked Jaxson as he returned to the hotel. The black vehicle absorbed heat like a crematorium oven. He questioned whether he should stop for takeout as he passed a Chinese restaurant but decided not to stop. The heat had wiped him out. He continued down the busy street. He barely stopped in time as a red VW Bug slammed on the brakes in front of him, and then turned right. Thankfully, two blocks down, the hotel would provide refuge from the awful day he’d had.

  The probe search by the dozen Texas Rangers, three FBI agents, and nine Plano police officers ended with five more skeletons found. These skeletons had been buried even longer than the two that were already in Dr. Kamille’s lab and due to scavenging, not all the bones for each body could be found. The remains were ferried to Dr. Kamille’s lab to be puzzled together into as whole a person’s skeleton as possible.

  The discoveries had weighed on him and Jon. Now, at twenty hundred hours, he could focus on Piper instead of these poor women. Jon left an hour before he had. His partner’s wife was pregnant and ready to pop; plus, they had two kids under four. He didn’t know how Jon had any energy for work. When asked, Jon always said, “Are you kidding me? I’m resting while I’m at work. At least most of the job I get to sit on my ass and use my head. At home, I feel like a referee running the length of a football field.”

  The driveway to the hotel rushed upon him and he pulled in front of the hotel. Trying his luck, he drove toward the closest parking places to the entrance. He found an empty space and pulled in.

  After locking the vehicle, he headed into the lobby. Piper sat on a winged navy and white striped chair with her laptop open on the table in front of her and a file on her lap. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back against the chair cushion. Jaxson gathered up her folders and slid them into her bag, then added her laptop. He slipped the two handles over his shoulder then stroked Piper’s hair to wake her.

  Piper stirred and then opened her eyes at the pace of a sloth. Her gaze met Jaxson’s and a smile stretched across her face, showing two dimples on the right and one dimple on the left. Her eyes brightened as if starlight backlit her eyes, which appeared more sea-green tonight.

  “You’re finally here.”

  “Why are you in the lobby? You shouldn’t be sleeping here. Anyone could have stolen your purse, laptop, kidnapped you. Why aren’t you working up…” Jaxson let his voice trail because Piper made a poor job of hiding a laugh.

  “I would be up in the room if we had remembered to get me a key or add my name to your reservation.”

  “Oh, shit! Sunshine, I didn’t even think of it. Forgive me?”

  “It’s no biggie. I sat here and worked. Plus, the lobby keeps nice hot coffee on the table over there all day. And there was a happy hour between five and seven. That’s why I fell asleep. I drank two glasses of free wine.”

  He pulled her to a standing position. “Come on, my tipsy lady. Let’s get you upstairs.” After placing his right hand on the small of her back, he guided her to the elevator. Once at the room they shared, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside. She settled on her bed. He began to get out of his work clothes, slipped his gun out of the holster and then placed it into his portable gun safe. He changed into comfortable running shorts and a T-shirt.

  “You’re staying pretty quiet. What went on today that kept you so late?”

  “Did you have dinner yet? I’m starved. I missed lunch.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. You know I won’t print anything you don’t want me to.” She waited for his answer. When none came, she said, “A chicken salad would taste good.”

  “You got it, sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

  Jaxson left without another word.

&nbs
p; Chapter 39

  The next morning, Jaxson sat in a small, windowless conference room with his partner. They waited for a conference call from the ME and anthropologist to begin. The small table only had enough seats for six; the walls were painted a bland beige, with no pictures to decorate the dull space. He didn’t think anyone else would join them here for the call. Most Rangers and other law enforcement officers would call in from different locations.

  Finally time, Jon dialed the call number.

  An electronic voice stated, “Your call will begin in one minute.”

  After introductions by the medical examiner, Dr. Stanley Davidson, the forensic anthropologist, Dr. Heather Kamille, began. “Thank you all for joining our conference call. It helps us get the results out to all of you faster. First, we know that all eight skeletons are female. I can tell for sure five of the bodies found this morning were pregnant. The remaining three weren’t. So, either our unsub changed his MO or the three not pregnant don’t have anything to do with the other five killed. Which means we have a second serial in Plano. We will go through dentals this afternoon in hopes of a preliminary identification. Then we will follow up with a DNA verification, if possible.” Heather said, “Dr. Davidson, I’ll hand the call over to you.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Kamille. The last body found had a significant amount of decay. We anticipate the body had been there at least two weeks, maybe a little longer. The body is a female who had been pregnant and now the baby is missing. She’s definitely one of the serial’s victims. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. I have identified her as Ella Graham. Her husband, Ryan Graham, reported Ella missing within an hour, but local police still arrested him. He was indicted for her murder even though a body wasn’t found. We should begin investigating her immediately. I have my suspicions her husband isn’t guilty of anything. He can’t be the serial killer, so we need to get him out of lock-up as soon as we can. The killer used a rudimentary application to remove the babies. His technique would have killed the mother if she hadn’t already been deceased before his butchery. All three women had their infant removed postmortem. We need to find those babies. There is more information on the electronic reports, which has been sent to each of you. Questions?”

  “This is Jaxson Wyatt. I have one.”

  “Go ahead,” Heather replied.

  “How far back does the oldest skeleton go?”

  “Three years or thereabout.”

  Lots of agreeable murmurs could be heard over the speaker.

  Jon asked, with a doubtful Hispanic accent, “How likely is it that one serial killer is responsible for the women who were and weren’t pregnant? That’s a big change in his or her MO. If there are two, could it be a female serial killer for the women whose babies were stolen?”

  “There’s always that chance it’s a woman,” Jaxson said. “However, these women have been brought to the middle of nowhere. They were dragged there, according to evidence found. And the unsub was smart enough to have the drag marks cover up his shoe imprints. All but right at the burial site. Then we get a couple of pretty good male footprints. Not only are these men shoe prints, unless the woman is big and has taken strength training, there is no way she can drag one hundred fifty to two hundred pounds of a pregnant woman near term to the middle of the preserve. It would be pulling dead weight.”

  “In my opinion,” Dr. Davidson said, “this is a man. But don’t be sexist—if a woman set her mind to it, she could drag dead weight. Besides what Ranger Wyatt said, the stab wounds to the bodies were all the same. There was a tremendous strength behind them, more than a woman could produce unless, like Wyatt said, she has taken a ton of strength training.”

  “I have to agree,” said Dr. Kamille. “The serial killer appears to be male. Some of the kerf marks on the bones show a great deal of strength behind the thrusts as well.”

  Jaxson glanced at Jon. He knew Jon worried about his Estelle. She was nine-and-a-half months pregnant. She was also three-quarters Hispanic. Finally, Jaxson whispered, “Jon. Nothing will happen to Estelle. She’s not his type.”

  Jon shook his head, his lips thin and almost white. “How do we know what his type is? We only have three identities. Ella Graham—she had blonde hair when she was killed, but she was a dyed blonde. Her normal color was brunette.”

  Jaxson asked, “Did you tell the team this?”

  “No, I just assumed everyone knew.”

  “I didn’t. Tell them.”

  Jon cleared his throat and waited for Dr. Kamille to complete her summary of what still had to be done with the bones and the anticipated wait time for identities, if they could be found.

  “Uh, this is Jon again. I don’t know how many of you have researched Ella Graham, but in case some of you have not had time yet, Ella had dyed blonde hair when she was killed. Her natural color was brown.”

  “Good catch, Ranger Torres. She didn’t have pubic hair; she had a Brazilian wax, so unless you were really observant, it wasn’t obvious she was a brunette. I like a cop who still has the old-time instincts and knows how to use them,” said Dr. Heather.

  “I have one more thing to add,” Dr. Davidson, the medical examiner inserted. “We found tissue between the teeth of the oldest skeleton. It looks like she bit the guy. I don’t know how viable the tissue is, but I sent it in for testing.”

  “That’s fantastic. We might get a hit in CODIS.”

  “Don’t get too excited. First, we don’t know for sure we’ll get anything. Second, it will take at least six weeks for results. This guy can do a lot of damage in that amount of time. Plus, there is no guarantee this guy’s DNA is in CODIS.”

  “Can’t you put a rush on this?”

  “Of course, I’ll try. It will still take at least a week or two.”

  “Do you think we have one or two serials?” Jaxson asked.

  Dr. Davidson’s deep voice echoed through the conference phone. “I don’t think it’s two. That would be too big of a coincidence that they both just happened to bury their victims in the exact same location and could create similar kerf marks on the bones. Plus, that preserve is huge—maybe not gigantic, but big enough that two different serial killers burying their victims in the exact place doesn’t sound logical.”

  “I agree,” Jaxson said. “So, what made him change his MO? Why did he all of a sudden start butchering pregnant women and stealing the babies?”

  Dr. Kamille answered this time. “There’s only one reason, and I don’t like thinking it. The killer must be selling the babies, maybe to some kind of brokerage firm or trafficking ring—and then they end up being sold to unsuspecting couples. Parents who can’t have children pay an exorbitant amount to adopt a child. I doubt the adopting family knows how the babies were appropriated, though.”

  The call lasted another twenty minutes, with local police and other Rangers asking questions. Jon and Jaxson listened in, but then Jon muted the call.

  “If it’s true that the babies are being sold, why does he always kill blue-eyed blondes? How do we really know he won’t change to another type?”

  “Jon, it’s probably the type the serial killer wants. If you’re that worried about your wife, I will help you set up twenty-four-hour protection. All the women were taken when they were alone. We’ll make sure Estelle is never by herself.”

  Chapter 40

  Piper waited in the waiting area of the Sore Spot. Jaxson had left early that morning with barely a word. She knew she should have kept more of a distance from him. He would hurt her all over again. The soft relaxing music featuring harps and running water set her more at ease than she had been prior to entering this calming atmosphere. The lavender and eucalyptus scents created the illusion of a safe place.

  Wyndon, her editor, asked her to write a human-interest story about Sarah and Angela and the unknown women in the graves. Psychologically, this case had her insides riding a roller coaster in pure blackness. Tazz kept her together with her warnings of an impending anxiety attack. Those advance noti
ces helped her keep her anguish under control. She shook her arms to stop the fearful tremors. But the stories kept her busy and now her shoulders and upper back ached. She could kick herself for hunching over her laptop the last three days rather than set it up ergonomically so the improper position wouldn’t have wrecked her body.

  Jon and Jaxson worked the case without her while she wrote, while she did her job. Now her mind mocked her that she’d been left out of the loop. The FBI wouldn’t allow the other victims’ names to be released. Jaxson wouldn’t give her a hint, no matter how much she begged. He kept his mouth closed around her. Usually she could get information out of him that no one else could, but something was different now. Mum was the word around him and she wasn’t sure why.

  Piper had called and texted Keri several times. But for some reason, she ignored Piper’s calls and text messages. Keri, the one who insisted they end this silly feud, wouldn’t answer any of her communication attempts. She rolled her eyes and shook her head repeatedly. She raised her shoulder in surrender. That’s my sister for you.

  An older woman with a gray bob, sharp brown eyes, and dressed in khaki Capri slacks with a plain navy blouse and a white lab coat topping off the ensemble walked into the waiting room. “Piper Morgan, come on down.” She waved.

  A slight grin spread across her face. While recuperating, she watched The Price is Right every day. Plinko was her favorite game, but she almost always won the Mountain Climber game. The older woman motioned for Piper to follow her.

  She entered a small room with a massage table in the center. Soft white sheets covered the padded table and the scents of lavender and eucalyptus permeated this room too. After undressing, Piper settled face down on the massage table, pulling the sheet on top of her. The soothing scents and new age tunes floated softly around the room, giving a peaceful ambiance. The masseuse entered and her relief began. The masseuse kneaded the tension in Piper’s neck and followed the tight muscles as if they were bungee cords strung all across her shoulders to the base of her neck, stretched as tight as possible. After rubbing and kneading and digging into the tight tissue, eventually the muscles loosened and the tightness eased. A smile returned to her face. The masseuse she’d chosen from the internet turned out to be a true five-star treat. Sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn’t, but this time she found a keeper while she was in the area.