Chapter Sixty-Eight Judson
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Judson
When the Hale cemetery was first built, graves were dug by men with shovels, sweating in the heat, freezing in the cold.
Now one man and a machine could do the work.
According to the funeral director, my grandfather had anticipated this progress, and he’d expanded the railing and modified the northern fence so heavy equipment could get through.
Two workmen hammered mallets on hooks joining the sections. After relentless pounding, the pegs rattled loose. Together, two men heaved the iron panels aside.
The funeral home’s black hearse parked on the grass by the open side of the cemetery gate. A small backhoe rattled off a trailer and rumbled toward the wrought iron fence.
Judson glanced up toward Hale House. No sign of Raine or Molly. Good. They didn’t need to see this.
The backhoe lurched forward, cutting a path to the grave in the far corner. Mrs. Hale’s marker stood tall, next to her husband’s. It was etched with dates and dutiful words. Beloved. Wife. Mother. But nothing overly personal to suggest anyone had loved her deeply.
Seventeen years ago, I’d stood with Raine and watched the casket go into the ground. Neither of us, nor the small gathering around us, had spoken a word as the local minister said his final prayers.
Raine had been stoic, wooden, and silent through it all. And when the workmen shoveled dirt onto the casket, I’d taken her hand in mine because I didn’t know what else to do. She’d looked up at me, her blue eyes bright with anger and resolve.
I’d never seen her shed a tear.
Now, Meg arrived and strode toward me with her camera. “Document it all?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Will do.” She checked the settings on her camera and raised it.
The operator lowered the blade, slicing the sod in neat layers. He worked with steady precision, back and forth, until the grass and topsoil had disappeared. Within forty-five minutes, the hole tunneled six feet deep.
The operator motioned that he’d reached the casket vault.
Meg snapped pictures as the two mortuary men moved in, looping straps around the vault and then the dozer’s rig. The dozer strained, the straps snapped tight, and the dozer raised the vault out of the ground.
As the workers wedged open the top, I moved forward. The white casket was grayed by seventeen years in the ground.
The dozer operator pulled levers. The straps strained, and slowly the casket rose. The casket was angled onto a waiting wheeled carriage.
In the distance, a door at Hale House opened and closed. A child’s voice carried. An engine roared.
When I turned, Raine’s car was heading down the main driveway toward the brick pillars by the road. I wasn’t sure how she was taking this. It was still hard to read the thoughts behind the cool exterior. I was certain that, if not for Molly, she’d have been here at the graveside.
The funeral director crossed to me. “Agent, the gravedigger will complete the spots for Mr. and Mrs. Durant. I’m leaving with the coffin for the medical examiner’s office now. Anything else?”
“The burial is scheduled for Tuesday.”
“Okay, thank you.” I caught Meg’s gaze. “Go with them to the medical examiner’s office.”
She nodded. “I get it. Document, document, et cetera.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll be back on Tuesday for the burial?” I asked the funeral director.
“Yes. The burials are scheduled for noon.”
“Thank you.”
The director shook his head, his expression weary. “I buried this woman seventeen years ago. Seems like yesterday. I’ve moved graves before, but never for the medical examiner.”
I clasped his hand. “Thank you for the work. Later, as the investigation progresses, I’ll explain why.”
“Sure, I understand.”
He walked away, but I remained by the fresh holes. Three people were dead. All were connected to Hale House. All knew Raine. The land, her inheritance, were both at the heart of it.
“Look at this.” Ken’s voice cut across the silence.
My body tightened before I turned.
Ken strolled through the open fence. Perfectly dressed, hair shellacked, the sharp tang of aftershave drifting ahead of him. “What’s the deal, Judson? You dug up Mrs. Hale?”
“I can’t discuss this, Ken.”
“It’s a drastic move.”
It was. If I was wrong—especially about a Hale—the judge would be slow to approve any of my future requests.
“You must suspect something,” Ken said. “Do you really believe someone killed Eloise Hale?”
Seventeen years ago, news of Mrs. Hale’s death had spread in town quickly.
We didn’t get many odd deaths like hers.
Details glutted gossip-filled beauty salons, barbershops, and church circles for a few weeks.
Finally, the event, as most do, vanished into memory.
Mrs. Hale was forgotten by the end of the year.
“What’re you doing here, Ken?” I asked.
He gave me a tight, practiced smile. “Checking in on Raine. She’s out here alone. And I didn’t give her a birthday gift.”
Ken didn’t do anything for anyone without a reason.
“Really?”
He cocked his head. “No matter what you think, I love Raine. I always will. It’s over for us, but doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on her.”
“Time to back off, Ken.”
A curious grin tipped the edge of his lips. “Who put you in charge? You two haven’t been anything for seventeen years.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless there’s something going on that I’m not aware of.”
“Ken, move on. There’s no need to be here.”
Defiance tightened his jaw. “Two of my friends have died. I’m attending their funeral. It’s the least I can do.”
“Don’t linger on this land,” I warned. “Don’t hang around Raine.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I will arrest you for trespassing.”
He laughed. “And that’s supposed to scare me?”
“If I don’t scare you, then you’re a fool.” I spoke carefully so each word was enunciated.
“Even on the field, you weren’t terrifying. Hit like a truck, but no cheap shots. A straight arrow.”
My patience frayed. “What kind of relationship did you have with Amy?”
He shrugged. “I knew of her. Not a crime.”
I knew Ken well enough to realize he was hiding something. “You slept with her.”
He looked almost bored. “Not a crime to have consensual sex, Judson.”
“You two keep up with each other over the years?”
“Why would I do that?”
My tone was steady. “Amy still looked a lot like Raine. Maybe you were looking for a substitute for Raine.”
Ken’s silence was answer enough.
“Amy loved Hale House,” I added. “And she maintained a connection to the house.”
“Okay. She liked the old house. Who cares?”
“Everyone who could’ve challenged Raine’s inheritance is dead.”
He shook his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Judson. I had nothing to do with Amy’s death. I haven’t seen her in seventeen years.”
Ken sounded convincing. But I’d rattled him. I knew he was lying. And he suspected as much. I enjoyed watching him squirm. But it was wishful thinking to believe my suspicions would drive him out of town and to leave Raine alone.
Ken wasn’t leaving. Not yet.