Page 13 of Darkwater Lane

“That’s something we’re still trying to determine,” Wren says.

There’s suspicion in her voice. I can’t imagine they still think I had anything to do with this. “I can say with absolute certainty that when I shot and killed Melvin Royal, he was in possession of all of his fingers.”

Indiri almost smiles again. “I appreciate the confirmation,though it’s unnecessary. We know where the bone came from. Someone dug up his grave.”

The news lands like a punch in the gut. I sit back in my chair, head spinning. I’d heard of this happening before: people so obsessed with celebrities that they dig up their graves, then sell off the contents as souvenirs. It’s gruesome and sick, but it doesn’t surprise me. At the time of his death, Melvin had fans who were loyal enough to him that they’d do anything, including kidnap his kids and kill his ex-wife. They were more akin to acolytes than fans.

I’d worried one of them might try to track Melvin down and dig him up, which is why I’d gone to great lengths to prevent that from happening. He’d been buried in an anonymous grave, in a cemetery with zero connection to his life.

I have a photo of that grave hanging in my office. It’s nondescript. One more numbered headstone among a sea of others. A reminder that he’s dead and gone.

“How did they even find him?” I realize I’m angry. No one was ever supposed to find that grave. That someone did means I missed something—left some sort of clue to his whereabouts I was unaware of. Which makes me wonder: what else have I missed? What other vulnerabilities exist that I’m oblivious to?

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Indiri says.

I run a hand down my face. “When did it happen? Why wasn’t I notified earlier?” There’s a note on file with the cemetery that I’m to be contacted in the event anyone asks about the grave or anything happens to it.

“We don’t know.”

My eyes go wide. “What do you mean? How can you not know? You can’t just dig up a grave without anyone knowing.”

“Trust me, we’re as frustrated as you are,” Indiri says.

I snort in response. I know they’re just bones, and it shouldn’t matter to me that they’re missing, but I took comfort in knowing where Melvin was and that I was the one who put him there.

Wren takes out a few more photos from her folder. I recognize them instantly. Melvin’s gravesite. It looks the same as in the picture hanging in my office. “We spoke to the company that operates the cemetery and to all of the groundskeepers who have worked there over the past year. None of them reported anyone showing any interest in Melvin’s grave, nor do they recall any disturbances in the area. No tread tracks from a digger, no mounds of dirt. Nothing whatsoever to indicate something happening with his grave.”

“I’m assuming you dug it up to verify that his body wasn’t there?” I ask.

Indiri nods. “Earlier this week. The coffin was still there, but it was empty. We’ve sent what we could off to forensics, hoping we might be able to find trace fibers or fingerprints, but…”

He doesn’t have to say the rest. In those conditions, I know how unlikely it is they’ll find anything. Especially given that they don’t even know when the crime occurred. I drop my head into my hands. “I can’t believe this. What kind of sick monster robs a grave and then sells the bones off as memorabilia?”

Special Agent Indiri shifts in his chair. “We don’t think that’s what’s going on here.”

I lift my head and eye him. “Why not? How else do you explain Cooper Kuntz ending up with one of Melvin’s bones?”

“Because we found the bone lodged in his throat. According to the forensic pathologist, whoever killed him was the one who put it there.”

5

GWEN

A wave of revulsion rolls through me. I can’t stop myself from lifting a hand and cupping my palm around my neck. “One of Melvin’s bones was in his throat?” I nearly gag at the thought.

Indiri nods. “The pathologist thinks it may have contributed to his death.”

I shudder at the thought of choking to death on one of Melvin’s bones. Over the years I’ve been exposed to some horrible things. During my trial for being an accessory to Melvin’s murders, the prosecution trotted out photos from Melvin’s crime scenes and victims as often as possible. Less than a year ago, I was forced to watch a woman bleed out in horrific pain after a monster amputated her arms and legs. Again and again, I’ve borne witness to the worst of humanity, but somehow, this detail makes my stomach roil in revulsion.

“Why would someone do that?” I ask.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Special Agent Indiri says. “We have a profiler working on the case, and according to their initial report, it’s definitely an indicator that the murder waspersonal. That rules out the possibility that this was a random crime or a robbery gone wrong. Whoever killed Cooper Kuntz knew about his obsession with Melvin Royal.”

“And, by association, you,” Wren adds. She can’t quite hide the edge to her voice, and it’s obvious that she’s still suspicious of me, despite my alibi. If she’s hoping to intimidate me, she should have done a little more research. I’ve dealt with far worse than her over the years.

Special Agent Indiri ignores his partner’s comment. “You weren’t the only one Kuntz sent threatening emails to, but you were clearly his main target. Going through his computers, we’ve learned that he was also active on several message boards, including one dedicated to Melvin Royal. We’re looking into his interactions there to see if we can find any connections. It wouldn’t be the first time a feud online morphed into real-world consequences.”

My stomach sinks at his words. If they start digging into the Melvin Royal message boards, they’ll likely find the connection to Connor. For a while last year, he’d been one of the most prolific and popular posters on the largest board. The odds of him having interacted with Kuntz seem pretty high.

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