P. Parrish - An Unquiet Grave

“Not necessarily,” Louis said. “Not if he went in when he was in his early twenties. He’d still be in his forties.”

Dalum gave a deep sigh and dropped down into his chair. “So we’re looking at a patient who raped and burned Millie Reuben and was maybe caught or not caught because of that, but then was released at some point and now, more than twenty years later, is back here killing women and leaving their bodies on the grounds.”

Louis nodded.

Dalum came back to his desk. “So we’re looking at a patient probably released within the last few years.”

“Or one who escaped.”

Dalum’s brow went up. “Becker? You’ve been talking to that reporter.”

“I know it sounds crazy.”

Dalum gave a long stare, then shrugged. “I’m not so sure I know what crazy is anymore, Louis. I’ll hear you out.”

“Okay,” Louis began. “Becker’s M.O. was to strangle his victims by crushing their necks. Just like Sharon Stottlemyer and Rebecca Gruber. He also left his victims naked in shallow graves.”

“Did he burn them?”

“We don’t know. The bodies were too decomposed.”

“Maybe he told something to his doctor,” Dalum said. “Have you seen his medical records?”

“Alice has them,” Louis said. “But we can’t look at them without a subpoena. And no judge is going to give us one with a dead guy as a suspect.”

“Anything else you know about this guy?” Dalum asked.

“Delp claims Becker’s been seen back around his hometown, but that’s probably just rumor. But we do know he was a smoker.” Louis set Becker’s death certificate on the desk. “This is his death certificate. He supposedly died of emphysema.”

Dalum was looking at the death certificate.

“There’s something else, too,” Louis said. “Do you remember what I told you last week, when I was in E Building getting Claudia’s medical records, that I heard a noise?”

“Yeah.”

“There was something I didn’t tell you. I thought it was my imagination until a few minutes ago when I talked to Charlie.”

“Go on.”

“I smelled cigarette smoke. Charlie told me he smells people in that building, too. Becker was housed in E Building.”

“You’re thinking he’s living out there somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“We looked everywhere, Louis. We checked every building. Every closet, every rat hole. You saw the garbage out there and we have no way of telling what was left by salvage crews or vandals-or if someone was living in there.”

Dalum rose slowly and walked to the frosted window. The office was quiet. Louis spotted the drunken cop decanter on Dalem’s desk and thought about grabbing a shot. But the roads were still slick and he had that long drive back to Plymouth. It was already getting dark. Maybe he would grab a motel room here somewhere.

Dalum turned. “Well, we don’t need a court order and we already have a backhoe sitting out there doing nothing,” he said. “I guess no one’s going to care if we dig up Becker a few weeks earlier than we planned.”

“Tomorrow?” Louis asked.

Dalum gave a short nod. “Best to do it quickly. We’ll start at dawn.”

Louis stood up. “Dawn?”

“I think a little secrecy is warranted until we know for sure,” Dalum said. “If Becker is in that grave, I’d just as soon the state investigators didn’t get wind of what we were thinking here today.”

“I understand.”

“You got some dental records or something we can use for a comparison?” Dalum asked.

“I know someone who probably does.”

Dalum shook his head slowly. “One thing we didn’t mention. If Rebecca’s killer is the same guy who raped Millie Reuben in 1964, that clears Charlie.”

“Yes, it does,” Louis said.

“I guess I’m going to have to release him, but I’m a little reluctant until I know for sure all these rapes were by the same guy.”

“I know.”

“Plus, I don’t where he’d go. The hospital will be closed soon,” Dalum said, pulling on his jacket. “I guess we can let him stay here a few more days.”

“Good idea.”

Dalum gave another nod and took a long breath, his eyes swinging up to the clock on the wall. “I’m heading home early,” he said. “Why don’t you come along and Dee will fix us some dinner? You look like hell.”

“Sounds great.”

“You want to stay the night at my place?” Dalum asked. “We’ve got a fold-out sofa you can use.”

“That would be nice,” Louis said. “Save me a long drive in the morning.”

Louis followed Dalum to the outer office and was almost to the door when he remembered Alice was still in the cell block. He asked Dalum to wait a second and walked back.

Charlie and Alice were seated on the lower bunk, eating the chicken. A uniformed officer stood at the end of the corridor, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Louis motioned Alice to the bars. When she neared, he spoke softly so Charlie could not hear them.

“There’s a good chance we’re real close to clearing Charlie,” Louis said.

Alice’s face brightened and he realized it was the first time in days he had seen her smile. “Thank you,” she said.

“You might start thinking about what we can do with him when we do clear him and the hospital shuts down completely.”

“I have thought about it,” she said. “I’m going to ask him if he wants to come stay with me.”

Louis couldn’t help but stare and he knew she saw the concern. “You look surprised, Louis,” she said.

“I am.”

“Charlie’s not dangerous,” she said. “And I’ve lived alone for almost ten years. I think we’d be good company for each other.”

“Well,” Louis managed, “if that’s what you think best.”

Alice still had that small smile on her lips. “I’ve spent my whole life working with people like Charlie. They don’t scare me. In fact, I’ve found I can learn a lot from people who see the world through a different prism.”

Louis glanced at Charlie. He had felt something similar the other night, when he was reading to Charlie, and he had seen the same guileless smile on Charlie’s face when he had walked in a few minutes ago. But the image of Charlie carrying Rebecca from the woods was there, too.

He started to ask her not to take Charlie home until they knew for sure, but she had turned away from him and was sitting down next to Charlie on the bunk.

Alice was trying to explain to him that one day soon there would be no hospital and he needed to understand some things. Charlie was still talking about the apple babies and how he wanted to go home.

Louis walked back to the office, their voices a soft echo in the concrete corridor.

The air was raw, the sky a solid wash of white, and the grass crisp with a light sprinkle of snow that had begun falling just before dawn.

Louis looked at his watch. Seven-fifteen.

They had been here about twenty minutes, arriving just as the darkness was fading to a ghostly white dawn. During that time, Louis had walked the cemetery as he had the first night he left Charlie, the night he went in search of the crying graves. Like that night, he had heard nothing.

But standing in the darkness had given him time to think and imagine. He knew it was his mind playing with him, but he found himself wondering what the killer was doing right now. Had he spent the night inside one of the empty buildings? Was he out there in the trees watching them now? Had he already picked out his next victim?

Last night, Louis and Dalum had discussed putting an officer out here full time until the place closed down completely and Alice and all other workers were gone. Dalum had told him he had already asked the state police, but that they didn’t deem it necessary at this point. After all, they said, there was a security team at the hospital. And they themselves had the case under control. They were researching other women who had been reported missed over the last year. And they even had a few suspects, they told Dalum.