Chapter 5 #2
“Of the three fully excavated sets,” Kessler said, “two are female.
The third is male, and the skeletal profile is consistent with a man in his mid-fifties at the time of death.
Given that Nestor Ellingham disappeared from this property approximately thirty years ago at that age, we've requested his dental records to confirm identification.”
Brook crouched at the edge of the bed. The remains had been left in situ for documentation, the bones still nested in the impression they’d occupied for three decades.
“The male remains were the ones initially discovered, but they are also the most informative," Kessler said, guiding Brook to a laptop open on a nearby workbench. She pulled up a series of photographs taken in what she assumed to be a field examination tent. The bones had been cleaned and arranged in anatomical position on a stainless-steel table, each one labeled and numbered against the matte surface. Kessler pointed to the skull in the first image. "Depressed fracture on the left parietal bone, consistent with a heavy, focused blow. The right forearm shows defensive fractures, as well. His death was violent, and based on the skeletal evidence, I’m comfortable saying at the scene level that blunt force trauma was the cause.”
“He fought back,” Brook murmured in thought.
“Significantly.”
“And the women?”
“Different story entirely.” Kessler swiped to the next set of photographs on the laptop.
Two separate layouts, each showing a female skeleton arranged on different stainless-steel tables, cleaned and cataloged.
“No visible skeletal trauma on either. No fractures.
No cut marks. No damage to the hyoid bone.
Whatever killed them didn't leave evidence on bone.”
“Which rules out blunt force, sharp force, and most forms of manual strangulation,” Brook said, more to herself than to Kessler.
“Correct. But as you know, the absence of trauma doesn’t tell us the cause of death.
Suffocation, chemical sedation, or even being buried alive.
None of those would leave reliable skeletal markers after this length of time.
I’ve collected soil samples from around both sets of remains for toxicology screening.
If there’s chemical residue from sedatives or poisons that leached into the surrounding soil, we’ll find it. But those results will take weeks.”
“What about positioning?”
Kessler nodded, as though she’d been waiting for the question.
“That’s the one detail I can speak to with some confidence.
” She guided Brook and the others back to one of the flower beds.
“Both fully excavated women were positioned supine, similar to this one. Arms at their sides or folded across their chests. Both were oriented in the same direction within their burial sites.”
Kessler paused, but Brook didn’t get the sense that she did so for effect. It was more in preparation.
“We do know the answer to one question. This is deliberate placement, Ms. Sloane. A person who was conscious when buried would show evidence of a struggle. Contorted posture. Hands raised. Knees drawn up. These women were placed either unconscious or dead before burial. Carefully.”
The bodies had been arranged.
As though someone had taken the time to ensure they were comfortable.
“Almost reverently,” Brook murmured as she began to piece together the profile.
Brook slowly began to turn, taking it all in.
Eight burial sites. Seven women and the man who had owned this property.
The unsub had returned to this space again and again, selecting locations with the understanding of someone intimately familiar with the soil, the plants, and the rhythms of the growing season.
He had placed his victims in the earth the way a gardener places seedlings.
Not with violence.
Not with haste.
But with intention.
“What about identification?” Brook gestured toward the female remains.
“We’ve submitted dental records and DNA samples from all three fully excavated sets to the Bureau lab for cross-referencing,” Kessler explained as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “You’ll have answers as soon as we get them.”
Brook returned to the center of the greenhouse and stood still. The work lights continued to hum, and somewhere in the rafters, a bird rustled among the ironwork.
Seven women buried in a place designed to nurture life.
And one man who had fought back against his attacker.
Brook placed her hand on the curve of her stomach. The baby shifted beneath her palm in the half second before she pulled away, as though acknowledging what surrounded them. Eight graves in a greenhouse, and not a single answer yet as to why they were here.
Theo stood near the entrance. So did Sylvie. Neither spoke, because they understood this phase of hers very well. She was absorbing the scene around her, already constructing a profile. In this case, almost certainly two profiles.
Brook turned to Kessler.
“I’d like copies of everything you have so far. Radar maps, excavation photographs, and soil sample results as they come in.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, Dr. Kessler.” Brook extended her hand, and Kessler shook it with the same firm grip she’d offered at the start. “Your team has done exceptional work. We’ll do our best to stay out of your way.”
Kessler gave a single nod and returned to her excavation site, pulling the respirator back into place.
Brook stepped out of the greenhouse and into the July heat.
The brightness was disorienting after the dim, green-filtered interior.
Theo and Sylvie followed, along with Sheriff Gentry, who had remained near the entrance throughout the briefing, hands in his pockets.
“Sheriff, I’d like you to join us up at the main house.” Brook held the man’s gaze, and he understood the time had come for them to have an in-depth conversation. “I need you to walk my team through everything you know about the Ellingham family.”