Chapter 17. Dead and Buried
DEAD AND BURIED
WHITNEY
Normally, the first thing we did when working on a property was install security cameras.
Cameras kept us humans more secure, along with our equipment and materials.
Unfortunately, because the barn had last been used in the pre-internet era, there were no fiber optic or cable lines in place.
We could use the existing phone line to get DSL internet service, but DSL’s slower speeds and limited bandwidth meant the feed would lag and be unreliable.
The cable company had scheduled an installation for later in the week but, until then, we’d be out in the boonies without a security system to activate if anything went wrong—a killer returning, for instance.
On Tuesday morning, Collin outfitted me with a personal alarm and pepper spray, and suggested Buck and I carry walkie-talkies.
If not for the fact that it would violate department policy, he’d probably have loaned me his gun, nightstick, and Taser.
“Stay alert,” he said, his face drawn in worry.
“Remember, it’s not just your life at stake. ”
How could I forget? My pregnancy hormones had my tummy feeling like a Tilt-A-Whirl this morning. “I’ll be careful,” I promised, putting on a brave face. I gave him a warm kiss and hug, and headed out the door, the pockets of my coveralls heavy with the spray, alarm, and radios.
An hour later, I pulled into the dirt drive that led to the Pittman property.
I rolled slowly past the Victory Garden and the greenhouses behind it.
Ruby ran up to the fence to greet me. Two scarecrows also greeted me, but only two.
The man scarecrow and the child scarecrow.
Where’s the mother with her big smile, overalls, and hand raised in hello?
Her pole was still in place, but she was nowhere to be seen. A creepy feeling tiptoed up my spine.
I pulled up to the barn and parked, taking a good look around.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but I wasn’t about to get out of my car until Buck was here, too.
I cracked the windows a few inches to provide air circulation and waited for a few minutes until he arrived before climbing out of my SUV.
I held up the blueprints for The Haylofts.
“I think you’ll like the design I came up with for the apartments.
Let’s go into the barn so I can show them to you. I’ve set up a workstation there.”
We donned our hard hats, rounded up our toolboxes, and headed into the barn.
I’d left the improvised sawhorse-and-plywood table after I’d gone over the plans with Gail the day before.
When I saw the table now I gasped, my hand reflexively covering my mouth.
The female scarecrow missing from the Victory Garden lay face up atop the board.
Black X’s had been drawn over her eyes, and a length of duct tape covered her mouth.
More tape bound her wrists and ankles. An old shovel had been placed on the table alongside her.
“Holy shucks,” Buck said on a breath.
A piece of paper was folded and tucked into the front pocket of her overalls.
Buck donned his work gloves so as not to disturb any fingerprints that might be on it, and finagled it out of the pocket.
He unfolded it on the table. The message was typed in all caps and read Whitney— stop digging or you’ll be digging your grave.
My legs went weak and I would’ve fallen to my knees on the dirt floor if not for Buck grabbing my upper arm and leading me over to the carriage to sit me down on the running board.
I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, and gulped air for a few seconds until I was able to calm myself.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Detective Alonzo. “I’ve been threatened.”
“By…?”
“I don’t know.” I gave her the details.
The cadence of her voice told me she was already on the move. “I’m on my way.”
She arrived in her plain sedan fifteen minutes later, followed by Deputy Swisher in his SUV and a male crime scene tech in a van.
While the men stood aside, waiting for instruction, she circled the table, examining the scarecrow from all angles.
She stopped next to the scarecrow’s head.
Her eyes went from the scarecrow’s face to mine.
“Since you found Tyler Yee dead last week, you’ve… ?”
I had no choice but to come clean. “I went to the courthouse last week to determine the status of Kingsley Atkinson’s lawsuit against his brother and Tyler Yee. The trial begins in two weeks.”
I racked my brain trying to recall who might have been in the vicinity while I ran my search, other than the lawyerly lady, that is.
I couldn’t recall anyone in particular, but there had been lots of people coming in and out of the clerk’s office.
One of them could have easily looked over my shoulder and realized I was researching Kingsley Atkinson’s lawsuit.
Maybe they’d trailed me home, then followed me to the barn when I’d met with Gail yesterday.
“And…?” Alonzo asked.
“And I went to the Redemption Fellowship on Sunday and spoke with Devin Carmichael and his wife Bess.” I gave her a quick rundown on our conversation, and told her how I’d seen aggressive comments from Saved&Sanctified online.
“The Carmichaels said they didn’t know who Saved and Sanctified might be.
I wanted to see if I was on to something before passing the information on to you.
I didn’t want to waste your time with a bad lead.
But I was careful not to disclose any sensitive information.
I didn’t tell them how Tyler died, even though Pastor Carmichael asked. ”
“He did?”
“Yes. He also asked if I knew how the investigation was going, and whether the evidence pointed to anyone in particular.”
She mulled this information over for a moment before moving on. “You’ve also spoken with…?”
“Gail Pittman and I had lunch at the Victory Garden yesterday after we met here to go over the designs. I noticed Deborah wasn’t wearing her usual French comb with the feathers in it. She said her cats had destroyed it.”
“Anyone else?”
I shook my head.
“Watch yourself,” Alonzo warned me. “You’ve made yourself a target.” She turned to the tech. “Bag the evidence and run it for prints.”
With a quick wave, she was gone. Deputy Swisher wasn’t far behind her, though before he left he promised to send units by as often as possible to keep an eye on me.
Once Buck and I were alone again, he repeated the question he’d asked me before. “You still want to do this flip?”
“More than ever.” I was terrified, truth be told, but the fact that I’d been threatened told me I was getting closer to the guilty party. I couldn’t back off now. I slid my large wrench into my pocket as an extra measure of protection. “Let’s get to work.”
Buck and I reviewed the designs and formulated a plan.
Our immediate priority was grading the driveway and parking area, and installing the gravel.
Fortunately, having worked on many construction projects, Buck and I knew a guy who owned a skid steer loader and a small road roller.
The equipment was currently sitting idle, and the guy was willing to loan it to us for a reasonable fee and a six-pack of beer.
While Buck went to pick up the equipment, I headed down the gravel easement in my SUV to speak with the owner of the adjacent property.
I needed to inform them that we’d be working on the driveway, though we planned to do one side at a time so there would be enough room for their vehicles to pass by.
I kept a close eye on my surroundings, just in case whoever had left the scarecrow in the barn was still hanging around, hoping to get a crack at me.
The gravel road went on for around half a mile, past the wooded part of the Pittman property, before petering out at a large, cleared field.
While the land might once have been used for farming, such was no longer the case.
Roads had been paved in the field, with several large circles representing what would one day be cul-de-sacs.
Stakes had been driven into the ground to demarcate large residential lots, each around an acre in size.
Most of the lots had FOR SALE signs standing in them, though one lot at the back of a cul-de-sac had a red SOLD sticker placed diagonally across it.
The land was obviously under development for a subdivision.
I drove my SUV down a curb and onto the road.
In the distance to my right stood the frame for what would be a large two-story house once it was finished.
The frame looked like a sort of skeleton, and served the same purpose that bones did in a body—to support the structure and distribute the weight.
A crew of men worked on the frame, expertly balancing on crossbeams as they installed plywood sheets that would serve as the roof decking.
The bang-bang-bang of their nail guns drifted across the open space.
A quarter mile to my left stood a house that appeared complete.
The yard had been filled with sod, and the grass looked especially green and lush compared to the brown dirt of the surrounding lots.
Next to the house sat a plain beige portable building.
The flagpole out front flew a bright blue flag with gray lettering.
I turned and headed in the direction of the building, having to backtrack when I inadvertently hit a dead-end street.
Without a map, the roads were like a maze and it was difficult to tell exactly where each street would take me.
After a few minutes of trial and error, I eventually found my way to the small parking lot in front of the metal building.
A single full-sized car was parked there, a late-model white Land Rover SUV.
Alongside it sat a six-seat golf cart under a nylon canopy to protect it from the elements.