Marie Ferrarella - A Widow's Guilty Secret

Apparently that wasn’t the case anymore, Nick thought, looking down at the gruesome discovery made earlier that day by some enterprising geology graduate students. The students had initially been assigned to dig up and catalog several mineral specimens on the private land just on the outskirts of Darby College.

Instead, what they’d found were three male bodies buried in shallow graves and located fairly close to one another.

“Three for the price of one, huh?” Nick murmured sardonically.

The flippant comment was intended for the young man he’d been partnered with but when he looked up, he saw that the tall, baby-faced detective had done a quick about-face and was currently—and miserably—throwing up his breakfast behind the nearest tree.

“That’s okay, Juarez,” Nick assured the younger man, raising his voice so that it carried. “I did the same thing when I saw my first dead body.”

It actually wasn’t true. For the most part, Nick Jeffries had practically been born unshakeable, but he thought it might give the young detective a measure of comfort to know that he wasn’t alone or unique in his misery.

Shaking his head, Nick looked down at the three dead bodies that had been lifted from their graves.

Three separate, shallow graves—not one. Did that mean there were three separate killers, or just one with an odd reverence for the sanctity of death that had made him dig the multiple graves rather than just toss the bodies one on top of another?

And why these particular three people? Was it just convenience? The luck of the draw?

He highly doubted it.

What did these three have in common with each other, other than being buried out here just off the college campus? Did they all die at the same time, or did they meet their respective ends at different times by the same hand?

He supposed at least part of the latter question would be answered by the medical examiner after the autopsies were performed.

He wondered how long that would take and if they even had a medical examiner around here. If not, they were going to have to find one, fast.

There were times when he really missed being in a city like Houston.

“So much for this being a sleepy little college town,” Nick said, talking to Juarez as if the man had rejoined him instead of still heaving up his by now meager stomach contents behind a tree. “And let me tell you, if you thought that the media seemed frenzied and out of control when they converged here, asking questions about that Grayson woman’s kidnapping, wait’ll you see what happens when they get wind of this triple homicide,” he predicted.

With a handkerchief held close to his mouth in case he wasn’t quite finished throwing up what was left of his insides, Jason Juarez, his eyes watering, made his way back to his partner.

When he looked at Nick, his eyes appeared to be bloodshot, definitely the worse for wear.

Nick was tempted to tell him to go home, but that wouldn’t solve anything. The kid needed to tough it out, Nick thought. Still, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

“You think that this is a triple homicide?” Juarez asked him.

It was obvious that the young detective was deliberately avoiding looking down at the uncovered bodies, which had already been on their way to becoming lunch a la carte for all the local rodents, wild animals and insects in the area.

Had he ever been this naive? Nick wondered. Somehow, he didn’t think so.

“Well, there are three bodies buried pretty close to one another,” he said to Juarez, doing his best not to let his impatience show, “and they’re definitely dead, so, logically speaking, I’d say yes, there’s a pretty good possibility that we’re looking at a triple homicide. But if you’re asking me if I think that the same person killed all three victims, that’s something we’re going to have to find—”

Nick abruptly stopped talking and he suddenly squatted down beside the body that was nearest to him. With an unreadable expression on his face, he gave the body a very slow once-over.

The face was not so destroyed that it prevented him from making an identification. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the county sheriff, Peter Burris?” If that were the case, then this just took on a whole new spectrum of ramifications.

Juarez paled slightly beneath his peaked complexion. “Are you asking me to look closer?” he asked warily.

Nick rolled his eyes. “That might be helpful, yeah,” he retorted.

One of the uniformed policemen, older by a couple of decades than the queasy detective, took pity on Juarez—who looked as if he wanted to bolt for the trees again—and made his way over to the body in question.

Looking at what was left of the man on the ground, the officer nodded, confirming Nick’s query.

“It’s the sheriff all right.” Somewhat intrigued rather than repulsed, the policeman squinted and took a closer look at the other two bodies that had been unearthed at the same time. Genuine surprise registered on his leathery face. “And that looks like Senator Merris. Saw him at a fund-raiser once. I was part of the security detail.” His own words seemed to hit him and he appeared properly stunned. “Holy cow, this is a real live senator.”

“Not quite,” Nick pointed out.

“Yeah,” the policeman agreed. “There’s that.” He looked up at Nick, the magnitude of the situation finally hitting him. “This is big.”

Rather than comment on what seemed to be very obvious—and since Juarez was still struggling even to glance down, Nick directed the officer’s attention to the third body. “You know him?”

The older man shuffled closer and looked at the last dead man intently for several seconds. He frowned, frustrated.

“He seems familiar, but—” he shook his head helplessly. “Sorry, can’t place him.”

Striking out, Nick looked pointedly at Juarez. “How about you?”

Unable to get around his duty any longer, Juarez was forced to take a look. Actually, it was more like taking a fleeting glance in the body’s direction. Exhaling the breath he’d been holding, Juarez shook his dark head adamantly.

“No, I don’t know him,” he confirmed with relief.

But the policeman wasn’t through as he continued to study the only unidentified man. Circling the body, he looked at the face from every angle.

Finally, he said, “I think he used to live around here before he went off to California—or maybe it was some other place out West.” He glanced up at Nick. “He had family here if it’s the guy I’m thinking of. I can ask around,” he offered.

“You do that,” Nick turned the offer into an instruction.

Then he turned to his boy partner. Juarez’s face still lacked color. He made up his mind that come tomorrow, if things didn’t change, he was working this case solo. Juarez’s wife was due soon with their first child. Maybe the younger detective could take some time off and be of some use to her.

But that still left today. “You up to doing a little traveling?” he asked.

Rather than immediately answering, Juarez asked uneasily, “To where?”

“I think we need to inform the sheriff’s wife that she just became his widow.”

In his experience, approximately 50 percent of the men and women who were killed died at the hands of their spouse. Whether this was the case in Burris’s murder remained to be seen. The sooner he ruled out the sheriff’s other half, the sooner he could move on and maybe even find out exactly who was responsible for this modern-day bloodbath in a sleepy town.

He scanned what might or might not have been the actual crime scene. Things would never be the same.

Not for a lot of people.