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Authors: J. N. Duncan

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BOOK: The Lingering Dead
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She smiled. “None taken.”
“Seventeen years,” Hauser said. “Carson has been chief for seventeen years.”
“Great, thanks,” Jackie replied. “So, it's probably safe to assume that they haven't all died of natural causes or accidents.”
“That would be beyond coincidence,” Nick said.
“OK then,” she continued, “why would they all be listed as such on their death certificates?”
“Because,” Shelby replied, “the coroner falsified the documents.”
“Or didn't even do autopsies,” Nick added. “If there's no indication of suspicious death, then no autopsy would be performed unless requested.”
“We need to have a word with the coroner, then,” Jackie said, “which we can't do until tomorrow.” Another thought suddenly occurred to Jackie. “Hey, Hauser, one more thing.”
“Shoot.”
“Run obituaries on the Thatchers and see if there are any,” she said.
“Gotcha.”
Jackie ran the fingers of her hand through her hair. They were missing a key element here. Someone or something had to be making this all happen. “All right, so we have the Thatcher family—Mom, Dad, Rebecca, and Charlotte. Rebecca dies, for whatever reason, her ghost haunts the house, and then, sometime later, a new, unknown Rebecca shows up and assumes the new daughter role.”
“Given what we know,” Nick said, “that does sound plausible.”
“So, someone tracked down and brought a new Rebecca into the family,” Jackie said and groaned in frustration. “Why? What's so important about maintaining the semblance of the Thatcher family?”
“And what if their deaths aren't natural?” Shelby asked. “What if they're being killed off?”
“Why would you kill off people you went to the effort of finding and bringing into the family?” Cynthia asked.
“Because they don't fit the mold,” Jackie said. “Beverly isn't the right Beverly. Rebecca just isn't acting the way Rebecca should.”
“Or they try to leave,” Shelby said.
“So, we're back to who in Thatcher's Mill would want or need the Thatchers to be there,” Jackie said. “And not just be there, either, but maintain their original state from a hundred years ago.” She plopped back down in her seat next to Nick. “God, this is fucked up. Maybe I'm way off base with all of this.”
“Hey,” Hauser's voice crackled through the speaker, “no obits on the Thatchers other than the original from 1897. Not a single paper in the area has ever mentioned a Thatcher dying.”
Jackie leaned forward, pointing her finger at the speakerphone. “Which makes sense if you're trying to cover up their deaths, and that's not easy to do unless you're in a position of authority to make it happen.”
“Chief Carson,” Nick said.
“Whose father was chief and his father before him,” Jackie said. “He told me that. We need to see those police records.” They'd also been up to the Mill to chat with the Thatchers. If Carson knew and was involved in this, he would be suspicious. “We also need to find out who this Rebecca is. If we're right, someone's missing a teenage daughter.”
“If we're right,” Shelby said, “that town could be full of missing daughters.”
“We're going to need some surveillance gear before we go back,” Nick said, “if we're going to stake out the Thatchers'.”
Jackie downed the last of her coffee. A town full of missing daughters. Years of them, and all dead. What had they gotten themselves into? “We're going back tonight. If we've stirred up what I think we have, then that family is in danger.”
Chapter 14
“Jack, don't do anything stupid,” McManus said. “You're pushing it with surveillance.”
Her retort died before it even got started. She could make no claims to not doing stupid things. “We need proof, McManus. Belgerman won't OK you coming in unless there's something concrete. If we can find out who that girl is, we've got kidnapping. All we need is a clean photo so we can run her.”
“Not really,” he replied. “You just have a girl pretending to belong to another family. Still have to show she was taken there forcibly.”
“Oh, come on. You really think a girl is going to come in from out of town and just decide to settle in with a new family?”
“We've seen weirder things, Jack.”
Could not argue with that. “Still, with a dead girl going by the same name, I'm going to assume something very wrong is going on in Thatcher's Mill.”
“I'm with you, for sure,” he said. “You've got something fucked up going on there. Just please don't jump the gun. You're a civilian. If shit hits the fan, call me in.”
Civilian. Thanks for the reminder.
“Soon as we have something. Thanks, McManus.”
“Hey, no problem. I knew you'd make something of this situation, Jack. You're too good not to. Talk to you soon.”
Jackie hung up and leaned back in her desk chair. She stared at her board, running through the events of the past couple of days, trying to make better sense of what was going on. McManus's words weighed on her. What if there was no force involved at all? What if these people came into the Thatcher family and wanted to stay? Then they would be left attempting to prove murder, a much tougher proposition, especially as a civilian. They needed to get hold of the records. If they could show forged police reports or autopsy records, it would be enough to bring the rest of them in. The real authorities.
She rubbed her hands over her face. With a little effort, she could still feel the badge in her jacket pocket, the snug fit of the holster beneath her arm. They were symbols of the authority she once had, and hopefully would again. But was she really that much less without them? Was she little more than a weapon and a shiny badge?
Quit it, hon. You're more than a badge and gun.
Yeah, I've clearly got it going on with this life now.
Transition is hard. You can't expect to just slide right into a new life without any complications. It doesn't work that way.
My whole life has become one big complication.
Are you speaking personally or professionally? Because professionally, I see how this might work great for you. I saw you on the plane. You were getting into this just like you did as an agent. I could feel that excitement in you, hon. This is a real, legitimate case. Ghosts or not, this is no joke.
I know, I know. Working this as a civilian just limits me in ways I'm not used to.
So? We change tactics. Subtlety can be just as effective as strong-arming people. You have other tools at your disposal now. We'll figure out new ways to do things.
You're right, of course. I just miss how things were.
You're better now. Stronger.
Wish I felt that way. I can't even manage to have a real date without falling to pieces.
Laurel sighed.
You'll figure that out, too. Nick's a patient guy. Just tell him what you want. He'll gladly take whatever you have to offer.
Laur? What if—
A knock on the door interrupted them, and Shelby opened it, sticking her head in around the edge. “We got Chinese. Conference room.”
Go eat. I can tell you're hungry, and no ‘what ifs.' You have lots to offer.
It was show-and-tell over dinner, as Nick brought out the equipment he had gathered for the nighttime excursion to Thatcher's Mill. There was camo gear, long-range photographic equipment, infrared goggles, and tranquilizer guns.
Jackie swallowed a mouthful of shrimp-fried rice. “You just happened to have all of this handy?”
“I am a PI,” he said, and smiled, “who happens to have money. It was part of our initial procurement for the new Special Investigations. You never know what a situation might call for.”
“You have a secret stash of spy equipment somewhere?” She was trying to be glib, but Nick's smile answered the question. “Shit, Nick. I hope it's all legal.”
The smile broadened. “Pretty much.”
She laughed. “I want to see it. Why didn't I know about this?”
Cynthia folded her hands on the table. “You did, Jackie. It was in the packet of info I gave you on your first day here.”
Laurel snickered inside Jackie's head.
Paperwork. Get used to it.
Shut up, you.
Nick pushed his carton of food aside. “Cyn, you have the map set up?”
She grabbed a remote off of the table and pushed a button. A large LED screen on the far wall lit up. It was an overhead map of Thatcher's Mill.
Nick laid out the vantage points from which they could have unobstructed views of the house and how best to reach them. They would need to get pretty close in order to avoid the trees. Even without the foliage, it would be too dense for a clear photo op, and they needed clear views of all the windows. They would come in from the north this time so they would not have to come in on Main Street and increase the risk of being seen.
“That all looks good,” Jackie said. “Any luck and we're in and out in an hour, but let's assume neither girl goes looking out any windows on her own volition.”
“Then we knock on the damn door,” Shelby said. “Wouldn't hurt to try asking them anyway. We might not need the photos at all.”
“I hate putting those girls at any more risk than we have to,” Jackie said.
“We'll ask about the police chief,” Nick said. “Keep the topic off of the family. We might get an indication if he's a threat to them.”
Jackie pointed her fork at Nick. “That's good. We need to check into him regardless. That's as good a starting point as any.” She scraped at the bottom of her carton, fishing out the last bits of shrimp among the rice. The plan was simple, straightforward, and ran a decent chance of not getting screwed up over something random or stupid.
Shelby had her feet kicked up on the table while she finished off her beer, and Laurel sat quietly beside her in a chair. Talk about an odd couple. How frustrating would it be to be in love with someone you pretty much could have no physical contact with? Laurel looked across the table at Jackie and smiled, and she glanced away. A lump of guilt balled up in her throat, and she swept aside the image of Laurel lying on that stainless steel table, arm hanging limply over the side with its single trail of blood running down from the crook in her arm, and the echo of Drake's laughter resounding through that cavernous warehouse.
Jackie tossed the fork into her carton and pushed it away. “So, when do we leave?”
 
 
They assembled their gear and headed for the airport, Cynthia remaining behind for quick informational access via the computer, plus the fact that she had no training or experience with these sorts of operations. Once on the plane, Jackie leaned against the fuselage and stared out at the darkening skies.
Laur? How much do you love Shelby?
How much? That's kind of a relative question, don't you think? Why?
I don't know. I just can't imagine how hard this must all be for you, putting up with all of my bullshit and then being in love with someone you can't really interact with at all.
We interact a lot, actually. We watch movies, play games, talk about books, tell each other our life stories. Other than the fact that we can't physically touch, we have a pretty normal relationship, I think.
Don't you miss it though, not being able to touch her, hold hands, any of that kind of stuff?
I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I miss it more than anything else, but it is what it is, hon. I'll take what I can get because this is the fate the Blessed Mother has given me.
Jackie was silent for a long moment.
I wish it could've been different for you, Laur. I'm sorry.
Don't be. You had no control over that, so quit going there. No more blame. I'm actually pretty happy all things considered.
Jackie closed her eyes.
I just wish there was something I could do for you. You've done so much for me.
“You all right, Jackie?” Nick asked.
She opened her eyes, finding Nick staring at her from across the table between them. “Yeah, thanks. I'm fine.” He kept watching her, the hint of a smile on his face. He knew she was bullshitting him, but respectfully declined to press the matter any further. “What's your favorite book?”
The smile vanished. He gave her a perplexed look. “Favorite book? Why do you ask?”
“No reason, just curious I guess,” she said. “You have a library in your house. I was wondering if you had a favorite book in there.”
“I have a signed first edition of Stoker's
Dracula
. He signed it for me himself.” Nick laughed at Jackie's slack-jawed disbelief. “I know, a bit ironic, don't you think?”
Jackie tried to keep a straight face, but could not. She began to laugh. “That's ... God, I don't even know what to say to that.”
Shelby walked by as the F
ASTEN
S
EATBELT
light dinged on. She patted Nick on the shoulder. “Vampires have a twisted sense of humor, don't they, babe?”
“I thought it an appropriate purchase at the time.”
Jackie sat back up and buckled her seatbelt, still chuckling. “Actually, I think that's kind of awesome. I would've never guessed that in a million years.”
Shelby's voice floated up from the back of the plane. “That's OK. We'll wait.”
Laurel giggled away inside Jackie's head.
I forgot about that. She makes me laugh.
Jackie watched Nick shaking his head at Shelby's remark.
I suppose she does at that.
 
 
They landed at the Dubuque airport, instead of the tiny airfield to the south, so they could approach from the north. Nick drove this time, pulling off the highway on the north edge of Thatcher's Mill behind the local barbershop. The spot only obscured them from the main road, so they hoped that nobody would come wandering around. Given what Jackie had seen thus far, the odds were good no foot traffic would happen upon the SUV.
After gathering up their equipment, they moved to the base of the hill, which provided some cover as they walked among the heavy blanket of leaves through the stand of oak and maple. Nick led them up the hill, his large pack slung over his back, when they got in sight of the drive leading up to the Thatcher's. Jackie could see the house, lit up from a porch light and the soft glow emanating through the curtained windows. They were making their way to a low embankment at the edge of the clearing that would allow them some relative, low-lying cover.
“Right up there,” Nick said in a hushed voice, pointing to a spot between two tree trunks that stood only a few feet apart. “That should give us a good view of the whole front of the house.”
Jackie nodded, eyeing the spot, and began to trudge forward again when, one by one, all of the lights in the house winked out. “What the hell?” Finally, the porch light went out, leaving them in almost complete darkness. “Could they have alarms out here?”
“Possible,” Nick said, “but unlikely. Robert Thatcher did not strike me as the high-tech type. Maybe someone saw movement down here. We'll wait a few minutes and see what happens. Let's crawl up to the spot.”
He dropped down into a crouch, hugging the ground as much as possible, and Jackie followed suit. The house vanished from sight over the edge of the embankment until they reached the edge and could see over once again. A soft breeze sifted through the trees, but things were otherwise silent and unmoving. Nick shrugged out of his pack and began to unload equipment.
“Here,” he said, and handed her and Shelby night-vision binoculars. “You two see if you can spot anything while I get the camera situated.”
Jackie pulled them up to her face and peered out, everything becoming suffused in a green glow. No curtains were pulled aside. No figures stood watching in the windows. “It's seven-thirty. Could they have just gone to bed?” In answer to her question, something cold ran down her spine. The breeze shifted, stirring the leaves on the ground in front of them. Jackie swore she heard someone whispering. “Did you guys—?”
BOOK: The Lingering Dead
12.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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