“Susan?” Kerry’s jaw tightened, and her stomach swirled.

Kerry almost didn’t recognize her sister standing in the doorway. The security guard was behind her. “She said she was your sister,” he said. “She wanted to surprise you.”

“She did at that. Thank you.”

He nodded and closed the door.

Why was Susan wearing red glasses instead of her customary contact lenses? Not that it mattered.

Kerry studied her. Something else looked different—out of place. Sure, Susan’s hair had streaks of gray and her hips looked much wider than they had ten years ago, but those signs of aging were normal.

Her sister’s nose looked as though she’d broken it, and the cartilage hadn’t healed properly. That’s what was different. Had Brad done that?

Susan rushed in. “I know I said I’d meet you at seven, but Grandpa told me you had to move out because of some psycho. I came to Tampa just to see you, and I didn’t want you to disappear on me like I used to do to you.” She chuckled, but the tight lines around her mouth told Kerry that Susan saw nothing funny in her statement.

“What a minute. Did you say disappear?” Queasiness grabbed her. “You’re admitting you abandoned me when we were growing up?”

Susan avoided eye contact by glancing over at the bones on the metal gurney. She wrinkled her nose and pointed to the remains of Baby Doe. “What are those?”

Everyone knew what bones looked like. What game was Susan playing now? “They’re the skeleton of an infant, a baby girl, or at least most of the bones.” Kerry forced her tone to be even.

Susan’s face turned ashen. She grabbed the top of the desk chair next to the gurney and slid onto it. “How did the baby die?”

Kerry couldn’t figure out if this was some kind of ploy to soften her up or if the appearance of the small bones truly distressed her sister.

“I’m not sure. Florida had some pretty heavy rains last fall that washed the dirt away from the grave site and exposed the body bag.” Susan didn’t need the grim reality of the dog ripping apart the heavy plastic. “We’re still trying to determine cause of death.”

Susan covered her mouth for a moment. “How terrible. She wasn’t in a casket?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“No. Someone buried her in the woods. Why the interest?”

“How old was she?”

Susan’s quick change of focus more than hinted she wasn’t ready to address Kerry’s questions of abandonment. “Susan why did you come? I don’t think it was because you were interested in my work.” Yes, she sounded bitter, but Kerry’s pent up anger got the best of her.

“I wanted to tell you my side of the story of what happened years ago. I’ve kept my secret way too long.”

“Secret?”

“Yes. Secret. I know I’ve hurt you, and I want to right that wrong.”

Kerry didn’t have time for some phony confession, or some made up secret for that matter. “I’m busy right now.” Another harsh comment, but her sister had never been straight with her.

Susan leaned forward. “I know you hate me.” She reached out and grabbed Kerry’s hand. Kerry flinched, but didn’t pull away. “Trust me, I only did what was best for you when you were young.”

“That’s rich.” She slid her hand from Susan’s tense grasp and fiddled with the bones on the cold, metal tray. “Why should I believe you now?”

“Maybe because it’s the truth.”

Kerry was tired, irritable and pissed, but Susan’s words rang true. No doubt her stubborn sister wouldn’t leave until she vented. “Fine. Tell me about this secret.”

“Do you want to sit?”

“No.” She wanted to pace, stomp, kick something. Instead, she stood still.

Susan let out a long breath. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Don’t do this, Susan. Just start at the beginning.”

She sucked in an audible breath. “I know you think I always ran off when Mom left town, but it’s not what you think.”

Kerry’s hands flew to her hips. “That’s because you always did.”

Susan slipped a strand of hair behind her ear, a habit Kerry always adopted.

“I realize now how terrible and frightening my disappearing act must have been for you.”

Took her long enough to figure that one out. “I was only seven. You were supposed to stay with me, watch me, make sure I was taken care of. At least that’s what Mom told you to do. What was I supposed to think when you took off and stuck me with the drunk neighbor?”

“I know. My leaving was inexcusable.” Susan studied her lap. “I used to visit Dad whenever Mom left town for one of her auditions. He didn’t like picking me up when she was around.”

“You spent alone time with Dad? I always thought we visited him together.”

“I didn’t want you to know. That’s why I told you I was out with my friends.”

This was getting them nowhere. “Yeah, you always had some reason why I couldn’t come. I asked Mom about that once, but she said teenagers needed to be away from their sisters sometimes. I believed her.”

Susan bit her lower lip and sniffled. She surveyed her hands. “Daddy and I did more than visit. I never told you. In fact, I never told anyone.” Susan twisted her fingers together.

Something wasn’t right. Oh, shit. A two-by-four could have smacked her across the back of her head, and Kerry wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Are you saying Daddy molested you?” Kerry’s pulse zipped to warp speed. That couldn’t be true.

Shame slammed across Susan’s face. “Yes. If I hadn’t agreed to service him, he said he’d...he’d come after... you.”

Kerry’s mouth dropped open. “When I was six or seven?” Her legs weakened and bile rose up her throat.

“Yes. It was unthinkable, is unthinkable, but I was fourteen when the abuse began. He was our dad. I believed he’d harm you if I didn’t do what he said.”

From Susan’s shifting eye movement, Kerry knew her sister was telling the truth, and a wave of disgust blasted her. “Couldn’t you have told Mom?” Kerry slipped down in the seat next to Susan.

Her sister leaned forward. “You don’t understand what it was like. He made me promise not to tell anyone. I know he would have hurt you if I hadn’t done what he’d asked. Besides, do you think Mom would have believed me? She claimed Dad could do no wrong.”

“Until he took up with another woman and left us.”

“She always became angry when I bad mouthed him.”

Mom was a wonderful, warm woman, but she was often in denial about most issues. Too bad she had more prescription drugs than a pharmacy, which made their mom less than coherent at times.

Reality stabbed Kerry in the heart. “You protected me and never told me?” How could she have been so blind for so long?

Susan cocked a brow. “At seven, would you have understood?”

Kerry’s mind took a trip back in time. “I guess not.” She wanted to forgive her sister, but Kerry recognized there was a lot more to the story. “When Daddy died, why didn’t you tell me about the abuse then?”

Susan pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose—a definite stall tactic. “Shame maybe. Besides, you were in high school and able to fend for yourself. Why ruin your year? Even after the abuse ended. I wasn’t ready to face what I’d done.” Susan stared off into space for a moment.

“Couldn’t you have spoken to a shrink or something?”

“Maybe, but I thought if I just left town, I’d be fine. I wasn’t ready to confront Mom with the accusation Dad abused me while she did her thing. Knowing her, she would have pushed me even further away, so I came to Florida. Grandpa was someone I could count on.”

“At least we agree on one point.” Kerry had missed so much of her sister’s life, and sadness replaced bitterness. “How could you leave Ohio though? It was our home.”

“You left too.”

“But I had a good reason.”

“So did I.”

She’d give Susan a chance to explain. “I’d like to hear it.”

Susan studied the hanging light in the ceiling before fixing a look at Kerry. “You were in school when I met a guy who I thought would solve all my problems and help me get away from Dad. Only Brad was as bad as our father. Eventually, I had to hide from him too, had to leave.”

Ohmigod. “He abused you, didn’t he?”

She nodded as her lower lip trembled. “I didn’t want to leave you or Mom, but I had no choice. You think I wanted to quit my teaching job and sever ties to everything I held dear?”

“That would be hard.” If Kerry ever had to stop working with bones, she’d go crazy.

“Damn right it was hard, but if I hadn’t, Brad would have hounded me. Trust me, I moved three times and he still found me. He even showed up at work.” Susan shook her head. “I finally had to pay a skip tracer to help me hide. I had to give up my career, my friends, my church group, everything. Only Grandpa knew I was in Florida. Even then we had to be super careful anytime we contacted each other.”

“You couldn’t have called me? Even once?”

“Back then, they didn’t have burner phones. I always believed somehow I’d slip up and Brad would trace my call. He was a computer programmer, and well-trained in all the latest technology. You were in college and happy. Grandpa kept me informed what was happening in your life. Why ruin things?” Susan shifted in her seat. “Would you have welcomed my calls back then?”

“Maybe not.” Kerry swallowed hard, thinking of the trauma Susan had suffered. “Grandpa said you’d met someone in Florida.”

She shook her head. “I told Grandpa that. I was pregnant with a little girl and had to make up an imaginary man. Brad was the father.”

The first hint of excitement raced through her. “You have a baby?” Without thinking, her own hand shot to her belly.

“I had a baby. Eventually, Brad found me. I called you when Grandpa told me Mom had died.”

“I remember.”

“I was careless with my landline. Brad arrived on my front doorstep about a week later.”

Kerry couldn’t imagine her sister’s pain. “And your daughter?”

Tears streaked down Susan’s face. “He stole her.”

“Stole her?” Kerry could only imagine the trauma. When her unborn child had died, devastation kept her company for months. “Why didn’t you report him?”

“I did, but what could the police do? They couldn’t find him.”

“Didn’t you look for Brad and your baby yourself?”

Choked up, Susan couldn’t speak for a moment. “Yes, but I never found them. I went back to Ohio, thinking he may have gone back there. I’ve been looking ever since.”

Susan’s story explained everything. How could Kerry have been so angry that she didn’t search deeper for the truth? She’d dismissed her sister, thinking she was evil.

Who else had she misjudged?

* * *

Phil shaded his eyes from the strong sun. “Mr. Lamont, would you mind if we look in the cemetery’s storage shed?”

Lamont swiped a clean handkerchief over his forehead. “No, but whatever for?” His shoulders straightened. “You don’t think I had anything to do with Willie’s death do you?”

A yellow jacket buzzed near Phil’s head. He stood still, not wanting to piss off the pesky insect. “We have no cause to suspect you.”

Lamont’s muscles relaxed. “Look away. The shed is unlocked.” He pointed to the small storage unit.

Unlocked? Great. Anyone could have accessed the lawn equipment. “Come on, Gina, let’s explore.”

She lifted the edge of her shirt, dipped her head and wiped her brow. “Aren’t you hot in those long pants?”

Hot for her, maybe. “I’m used to the heat.” Not really, but wearing shorts was unprofessional.

“Can’t we use the golf cart?” she whispered. He could tell she was trying to keep the whine out of her tone, but she had failed.

“The walk’s less than the length of a football field.”

He took off and Gina followed. “What are you hoping to find in that dirty old building?” she yelled after him.

“A shovel with a bent edge.”

She rushed next to him. “You think Willie Wyble had something to do with the murders?”

Phil chuckled. “Let’s not jump to conclusions so fast. There are probably a hundred bent shovels in Tampa alone, but I need to make sure there isn’t one here.”

Gina jogged next to him to keep up. How did she stay so upbeat? Looking at Willie should have made her sick. Women. He’d never understand them.

As Lamont had claimed, the shed door was unlocked. In fact, it was half-open, which would give easy access to anyone.

Once inside, he squinted to adjust to the darkness. Gina extracted a small Mag light from her purse and flicked it on. Her level of preparedness impressed him. She was a real girl scout. The thin wash of light allowed them to maneuver in the cramped space without tripping. Bags of fertilizer, rakes, mulch, and a riding lawn mower took up most of the space.

Gina swung the light around the fifteen by ten foot room. “There are a bunch of shovels,” she said, pointing the light to the far corner.

Phil pulled on a new pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. “Gimme the light.”

She obliged. “What is it?”

Phil lifted one of the shovels. “See here. The tip is bent. Looks like it might match the Jane Doe case Hunter’s working on.”

“Cool.”

“Or else I’m desperate to find something.” Phil returned the light to Gina. They left with the shovel, hoping Lamont wouldn’t mind if they processed it. The CSU team was finishing up across the grassy lot, and the medical examiner and his technicians were loading Willie’s body into the van. Time to see Lamont.

A slew of cars were pulling into the half-full parking area, indicative of a viewing. He turned to Gina. “Why don’t you wait in the car and start the AC? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’d rather come with you,” Gina said.

He didn’t have time to argue. “Wait in the car. Please.” He held out the keys.

She snatched them and shuffled back to the vehicle. Phil entered the chapel and asked for Mr. Lamont. A young woman directing the grieving relatives and friends to the chapel, pointed to an office down the corridor.

Phil knocked and entered. Lamont lifted his head. “Yes, Detective?”

Phil raised the shovel. “Do you mind if we process this?”

His lips pulled back into a thin line. “Whatever for?”

“Willie, or someone, might have used this in another crime.”

“I think you’re grasping at straws. Willie would never harm anyone.” He waved a hand. “But go ahead if you think it will help. I have nothing to hide.”

“Do you know Mr. Wyble’s home address?”

Lamont huffed out a laugh. “Willie didn’t even have a home that I knew of. I’m not sure where he went when he left work.”

“Did he have any relatives?”

Lamont’s focus shifted down to the right. A moment later, he pulled open a desk drawer. “I did have him fill out an application. Or rather, I filled out his application for him. Willie said his hand shook too much to write, but I don’t think he knew how.”

“If the letters in the dirt by his head are any indication, he did.”

Lamont opened a file and handed Phil the paper. “Home address is blank, but he does give an address for a sister.”

“Could you make a copy for me?”

“You can have this one. I have no use for his information anymore.”

“Thanks.”

Phil and Gina left with the shovel in hand. Phil wasn’t sure if there was any connection between Willie Wyble’s death and the four Jane Doe murders, but he needed to follow every clue. Right now, it was all they had to go on.

On the way out of the cemetery, Phil called Willie’s sister’s cell phone. She said she wouldn’t be home until five thirty. “We’ve got an hour to kill. You up for a bite?”

“Sure, why not?” While her words sounded chipper, her tone did not. Gina’s enthusiasm for crime solving seemed to have dried up.

In fact, instead of blasting him with a thousand theories about Willie’s death and the connection to the shovel, she stared out the cruiser window. She appeared to be more affected by the corpse than he’d realized, so Phil let her mull over her thoughts in peace.

Once they were served at the restaurant, Gina picked at her food, but he wisely didn’t razz her about her reaction.

Phil swiped a napkin across his mouth and signaled the waitress for the check. “Time to interview the sister.”

They followed Ella Wyble Jones’ directions to her home in a posh neighborhood in South Tampa, which came as quite a surprise given Willie’s homeless state.

A Hummer sat in Mrs. Jones’ drive. Phil estimated the house to be about thirty-five hundred square feet and the lot about seventy-five by one hundred. The zero lot line was too claustrophobic for him. The rows of colored flowers that bordered the walkway were a nice touch, but he wouldn’t live on such a busy street. He liked a neighborhood where kids could run down the middle of the road and play ball.

“Nice place,” Gina said. She tugged on her skirt as they neared the front door.

“If you like the up tight, money kind of place. I’d be surprised if she ever let Willie in her house.”

Mrs. Jones answered after the first ring. He flashed his badge.

“Detectives. Please come in.”

He guessed her to be in her mid to late forties. Although her makeup was perfect, it didn’t hide the red color rimming her eyes.

Mrs. Jones directed them to two leather chairs facing the screened-in pool. She sat opposite them on a new-looking suede sofa.

“We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Phil said.

“Thank you. As you might have guessed, Willie and I didn’t come in contact with each other very often, though God only knows I tried. Willie had...issues.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He could only imagine what plagued the man. “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to harm your brother?”

She blew her nose. “No.”

“Did he ever mention any friends or acquaintances he might have spent time with?” Somebody had to know the company Willie kept.

She shook her head and her cheeks sagged. “Willie was a loner. He did odd jobs for people. My brother liked to dig. Dig dirt, dig for worms, dig for the sake of digging. As you probably know, he worked for Mr. Lamont at the Fair Lawn Cemetery on a regular basis.”

“We spoke with Mr. Lamont. Do you know of anyone else Willie came in contact with?”

“He shared a space by the Crosstown with Tanner Nash. His favorite spot was under the overpass on Willow Avenue.”

Hunter questioned her further about Willie’s mental state, but he didn’t learn much, other than the fact Ella Jones cared for her brother.

“If you think of anything, give me a call.” Phil handed her his card and stood.

Once outside, spunk came back into Gina’s step. She’d said nothing during the short interview.

Gina jumped into the cruiser and slammed the door. “If I ever buy a house, it won’t be formal like this one. I was afraid to sit on the furniture.”

“Then I think you might feel more comfortable where we’re going next.”