Chapter Thirteen
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Jesse kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his console as he drove the cruiser down the winding road back toward town. The tension in the cruiser was thick, pressing in on him, but he figured what he was feeling was a drop in the bucket compared to what Lauren was feeling.
She sat in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window, her fingers absently running over the edge of her phone. The muscles in her jaw were tight, and when she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a murmur.
“Reggie could still be out there,” she said. “He could be alive.”
Jesse exhaled slowly. He had already considered that possibility. And more.
“Or Belinda could’ve lied,” he countered. “Or she was just wrong about where she buried him. It’s been sixteen years. The woods change. Land shifts. Even if she did put him in that crevice, animals could’ve dragged away the bones.”
Lauren turned to look at him then, her green eyes sharp with frustration. “Bones, maybe. But where’s the clothing? And what about the tattoo gun? If animals had gotten to the body, we still should have found something.”
Jesse tightened his grip on the wheel. She wasn’t wrong. The absence of anything—bones, fabric, metal—brought into question what Belinda had told them. But there were other options besides the sonofabitch crawling out of that grave alive.
“Someone cleaned that site up,” he suggested. “Someone who didn’t want us finding Reggie’s remains.”
Jesse kept his gaze on the road, but the tension curled in his gut.
If Reggie’s remains had been dug up, it meant someone had been out there.
Someone who knew exactly where to look. That pointed to Reardon, who might have wanted the remains to disappear so that Reggie’s death couldn’t come back on Belinda.
But when they’d found the grave empty, Jesse had seen Reardon’s expression, and the man had been shocked. Jesse didn’t think Reardon had been faking that. Ditto for Belinda. She had been just as horrified as Lauren when her brother’s remains hadn’t been there.
So, if Reggie wasn’t there, where the hell was he? Maybe soon, they’d have some answers about that.
“Hallie has already arranged for a CSI team to check the grave itself and the area,” Jesse reminded Lauren.
She made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing.
Jesse didn’t get a chance to say anything else before his phone buzzed with a text, and he saw Griff’s name on the dash screen. And Jesse cursed when he saw Griff’s message.
“Sending both Hallie and you an age progression mockup of what Reggie might look like today.”
Hell in a big-assed handbasket. Jesse didn’t want Lauren to have to deal with this now, but Lauren didn’t give him a choice. “I want to see it,” she said, tapping his phone so that the image appeared on the screen.
And there it was.
The mockup had aged Reggie Lincoln from the cocky, camo-clad young man in the newspaper photo to what he might look like now—a forty-two-year-old man with harder features, deeper lines around his mouth, and eyes that seemed even colder.
His once-boyish face had sharpened, his jaw now heavier with stubble.
His hair, which had been buzzed short in the old photo, was now longer, streaked with gray at the temples.
Lauren’s fingers tightened on the edge of Jesse’s phone, knuckles going white. “It’s him,” she murmured, almost to herself. “God, Jesse, if he’s still out there—”
Jesse covered her hand with his, steadying her. “We don’t know that yet.”
But the thought was a punch to the gut. If Reggie had survived, if he’d been out there this whole time, what had he been doing for the past sixteen years? And why the hell had he stayed quiet?
Jesse pulled the cruiser into the station parking lot and eased to a stop.
Hallie’s cruiser rolled in right behind him, coming to a halt in her reserved space.
He glanced over at Lauren, ready to ask her if she needed a couple of minutes to steady herself, but he didn’t get the chance. She got out of the cruiser.
Hallie, Reardon, and Belinda climbed out, too, and Jesse saw that Reardon’s face was stone-cold. Belinda, however, still looked pale and shaken, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold it together.
Hallie glanced at Lauren. Then, Jesse, and he saw the question in her eyes. Well, one of them anyway.
“Lauren and I saw the mockup Griff sent,” Jesse said, choosing his words so not to give away something to Reardon and Belinda in case Hallie hadn’t shown the picture to them.
Hallie nodded. “They saw it, too.” She tipped her head to Reardon and Belinda. “They say they haven’t seen him.”
“We haven’t,” Reardon was quick to say.
Hallie didn’t give any kind of signal that she was one hundred percent convinced of that as they went into the station. Once the bullpen was in sight, Hallie pointed to one of the deputies before turning her attention back to Reardon and Belinda.
“I want you two to give Deputy Jemma Salvetti your statements about the empty grave,” Hallie said to them. “We need it on record.”
Belinda nodded. “Of course.”
Reardon, though, let out a sharp breath and shook his head. “We’ll give a statement about that, but we’re not answering any questions about this investigation until our lawyer gets here.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jesse wasn’t surprised. The guy had been on edge since they’d brought up his connection to Reggie. He didn’t trust Reardon, but he’d dealt with enough suspects to recognize when someone was trying to lawyer up before they talked themselves into a deeper hole.
Maybe that’s what Reardon was doing.
Then again, he could be innocent, and the anger and emotion was a reaction to the obvious hell his wife was going through.
Belinda shifted her attention to Lauren. “If Reggie’s truly alive,” she said with her voice breaking, “why hasn’t he come after me? After you?”
It was the same thing Jesse had asked himself just minutes earlier. And now that question hung heavy in the air. Jesse saw the way Lauren stiffened, but before she could answer, Hallie spoke up.
“Maybe that means Reggie really is dead,” Hallie said. “If he somehow managed to crawl out of that grave, maybe he died somewhere else in the woods.”
Jesse exchanged a glance with Lauren. It was a logical theory, sure, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though because he heard the familiar voice call out.
“Sheriff, Deputies,” Dr. Graves called, his tone smooth but laced with curiosity. “Where have you been? And why is Reardon here?”
All of them slowed to a stop as Graves approached. The psychologist was flanked by a lawyer in a crisp navy suit, his expression unreadable.
Hallie didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have to. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Jesse didn’t miss the way Reardon and Graves locked eyes—like two men standing on opposite sides of a battlefield, waiting to see who would make the first move.
“Funny,” Reardon said, his voice like gravel. “I was about to ask the same thing. What exactly are you doing here, Dr . Graves?” He said the man’s title as if it were something vile and disgusting.
Graves’ mouth twitched. “I’m cooperating with the investigation. Something you might want to consider doing yourself. Judging from your obstinate expression, I gather cooperation isn’t your strong suit. Neither is sound reasoning if you’re continuing to claim I’m the bad guy in all of this.”
Reardon let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s coming from the asshole who’s been pointing fingers at me since day one.”
Graves’ lawyer stepped in then, clearing his throat. “Dr. Graves is here voluntarily. He has nothing to hide.”
“Neither do I,” Reardon shot back.
Jesse had seen enough standoffs to know this one was about to escalate. Before it could, Hallie stepped between them, her patience obviously razor-thin.
“Enough,” she snapped. “Reardon, Belinda, you’re with me. Deputy Salvetti will take your statements.”
Reardon sent one last glare Graves’ way before following Hallie. Belinda hesitated, clearly still rattled, before trailing after her husband.
“Show the doctor the mockup Griff sent us,” Hallie muttered to Jesse. “I’ll question him about it in interview, but I want his initial impression. Oh, and you’ve already been Mirandized,” she added to Graves, “so best not to say anything that could be used against you.”
The lawyer started to bark out an objection to that, but Hallie walked away, heading to Deputy Salvetti, no doubt to fill her in on the statements she needed to take from Belinda and Reardon.
Once Hallie was gone, Jesse turned his attention back to Graves, and he tapped on the mockup of Reggie. Without saying a word, he turned the image toward the doctor and watched his expression.
Jesse turned, holding up the phone so Dr. Graves could see the screen. “You recognize him?”
He expected Graves to look confused. Maybe a dismissive shake of his head. What Jesse didn’t expect was for Graves to frown, his mouth tightening as he leaned in for a closer look. Then the doctor’s expression shifted, something like realization flickering across his face.
“That’s Derrick Martin,” Graves said.
Jesse’s pulse kicked up a whole lot of notches and beside him, Lauren made a soft gasp. “Who?” Jesse pressed.
“Derrick Martin,” Graves repeated. “He recently got out on parole. Part of his release conditions require him to seek counseling, and he’s been coming to me for about a month now.”
Silence stretched between them. Thick, smothering. And the realization and dread rolled in right behind it.
Lauren inhaled sharply, her face draining of color. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
Hell. Hell. Hell. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. But it was. If Reggie Lincoln was alive—if he was walking around under the name Derrick Martin—then the man who had abducted Lauren, who had hunted her like prey, had been right under their noses this entire time.
And he was free.
“Where is he?” Jesse blurted to Graves. “When’s the last time you saw him?”
Now, there was some confusion in Graves’ eyes. “Uh, we had a session three days ago. Why….” He looked at Lauren. “Is this the man you’ve been looking for? Is he the one who killed Nicky Holden?” He stopped again. “Is he the one who abducted you?”
Lauren didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. No way could she have a poker face after what Graves had just confirmed.
“You have an address for this Derrick Martin?” Jesse asked.
As if he’d slipped into some kind of shocked trance, Graves shook his head, and he looked unsteady enough for his lawyer to take his arm. “Come with me. Don’t say anything else until we’ve talked.”
Graves gave a robotic nod and allowed his lawyer to lead him to the other side of the room. Hallie must have noticed what was going on because she hurried to Lauren and Jesse.
“Graves identified him as Derrick Martin,” Jesse explained, keeping his voice low because Reardon was watching them like a hawk. “He’s on parole, and Graves has been counseling him.”
“Shit,” Hallie muttered, sliding glances at Graves, Jesse, and Lauren.
She took a few breaths as if to steady herself and think.
“All right,” she went on a moment later.
“Get Lauren into her office, and the two of you put out an APB on this guy. Find out everything you can about him while I see what I can get out of Graves in an interview.”
Hallie paused again. “You think Graves was working with Derrick AKA Reggie?” she came out and asked.
“I don’t know,” Jesse had to admit. “But maybe that’s something we can find out.”
He took hold of Lauren’s arm and got her moving. Once they were inside her office, he shut the door and pulled her into his arms.
“Hey,” he murmured against her hair, his fingers drawing soothing circles on her back. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find out what Graves is really up to—and if he’s been in cahoots with Derrick, we’ll know soon enough.”
He felt her tremble under his touch, and he tightened his hold, silently promising that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Silently cursing, too, that once again Lauren had been dropped into this pit of hell.
Jesse pressed a kiss to her temple, hoping she’d stay in his arms a little longer, but Lauren pulled back. He could see her trying to steel herself up. Trying to keep it together. And she managed it all right.
“We need to do that APB,” she muttered. “I’ll take care of that if you’ll start searching for anything on Derrick Martin.”
Jesse didn’t hesitate. He sat with his laptop and typed “Derrick Martin” into the search engine of the police databases.
Soon, a series of prison records filled the screen.
The records listed several charges, including the conviction for the abduction of a twenty-year-old woman.
According to the files, Derrick had spent fifteen years in a prison outside of Austin for that crime and was released two months ago on parole.
Jesse compared the most recent mugshot with the mockup that Griff had sent them. The match was exact.
He leaned back in his chair, processing the new information.
If Derrick had been in jail for all but the last year since Lauren’s abduction, that explained why he hadn’t come after Lauren or Belinda.
The timeline fit—Reggie, now going by Derrick Martin, had been out of the picture for nearly the entire time.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Lauren asked, yanking him out of his thoughts.
And they had been damn deep thoughts since he hadn’t noticed that she’d finished her call and was now staring at him.
“Yeah,” he had to admit. “It’s him.”
Lauren stood, her movement a little uncertain as if the floor beneath her was wobbling, but she went to him and looked at the photo that was still on the screen.
“He has a scar on his head,” she pointed out, motioning to the side of Reggie’s head. “Probably from where Belinda hit him with that rock.”
Yeah, that was Jesse’s guess, and he could do some guessing on the rest of that, too.
Reggie had perhaps been unconscious, or faking that anyway, when Belinda had put him in that crevice.
Sometime later, he’d gotten out and managed to get someplace where he’d gotten a fake ID or else stolen someone’s identity.
But that led Jesse to another question.
“Reggie had a record,” he reminded Lauren. “He was in the system. Why didn’t his prints pop when he was arrested in Austin so the cops there would have known he was Reggie and not Derrick.”
Jesse stopped and waved that off. “Because his record was when he was a juvie.” He did some checking and got verification. “And his records were sealed. Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?” Lauren was quick to ask.
It took Jesse a moment to get his jaw unclenched so he could speak. “The records were sealed at the request of County Sheriff Tim Reardon.”