Debra Webb - A Deeper Grave

“The FBI questioned me about Nigel.” Marla shook her head as if trying to deny the ugliness. “I can’t believe he robbed all those people. We’ve known him for twenty years and he always seemed so nice. Heather never said a word.” She drew in a deep shuddering breath. “I’m just glad our parents didn’t live to see this.”

Bobbie understood Marla meant the illegal activities the Parkers were allegedly involved in and the vicious murders, not to mention a missing child. Whatever the age or the circumstances of death the truth was no parent wanted to survive a child. She knew this better than most.

A scream rent the air. Bobbie whipped around and rushed toward Sage’s room, her hand on the butt of her Glock. The uniform stationed at his door was already at his bedside.

As soon as Bobbie’s brain assimilated the fact that the boy was okay, she analyzed the scene. A male dressed in scrubs, a nurse she presumed, stood back from the end of the bed, his hands out to his sides, patient chart on the floor as if he’d dropped it. A plastic caddy that contained a blood pressure cuff and other medical tools sat on the foot of the bed. Sage was curled into a protective ball as close to the headboard as he could get, the sheet pulled up to his chin.

“I just need to take his vitals,” the obviously shaken man said, looking from Bobbie to the uniform.

“Let’s see your badge,” Bobbie ordered.

Marla hurried around the bed to comfort her nephew. “He’s been doing this since I got here. Every time a man enters the room, he gets upset.”

Thomas Brewer, LPN. Bobbie compared the photo to the man whose face was a couple shades paler than the one in the photo. A match. She passed the badge back to him. “Why don’t we have a female nurse take care of him?”

Brewer bent down and picked up the chart. “I’ll make a note in his chart. I don’t know why they didn’t do that already if this happened before.” He reached for the caddy and Sage gasped. His aunt made soothing sounds and smoothed his ruffled hair.

Bobbie nodded to the officer. He followed Brewer into the corridor and returned to his post. “You don’t need to be afraid, Sage. We’ll keep you safe.”

Brown eyes peered up at her. “That’s what my daddy said.”

Bobbie moved closer to the bed. She chose her words carefully. “Did something scare you before what happened while you were in the attic?”

He dropped his gaze to the sheet but he nodded. “The other day I was at home alone and someone came in the house.”

Bobbie’s instincts nudged her. “This is very important, Sage. Can you remember what day this happened?” She found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Monday. Mrs. Snodgrass does the grocery shopping on Mondays. I was supposed to be at school.” He shrugged skinny shoulders. “There was a big test and I forgot to study.”

“So you decided to stay home?” Bobbie understood that feeling. After her mother died, she’d felt the need to hide from the big things like a test at school and the birthday party down the street. Her mother had always taken her homemade cookies to neighborhood parties. Bobbie hadn’t wanted to tell anyone who asked that her mother couldn’t bring cookies because she was buried in the graveyard by the church.

“But, Sage,” his aunt protested, “you’ve always made honor roll. You’ve never been afraid of a test.” Marla looked to Bobbie and shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Has someone at school been bothering you?” Bobbie remembered that part, too. Kids could be so damned cruel. Who you gonna tell, Bobbie Sue? Your momma’s dead. She could imagine the things said to Sage about his parents considering the exploits the news channels and social media had been reporting. His mother had likely been called a whore and his father a thief. The image of the letters painted on their foreheads swarmed in front of Bobbie’s eyes. Poor kid. The trouble had just begun for him and his sister—if she was still alive.

Sage nodded, but kept his gaze lowered. “Jacob Cook was calling my mom names. That’s why my sister was fighting with his sister all the time. A bunch of people were being mean to her and me.” He looked up at his aunt. “Is that why she ran away?”

A hit of adrenaline detonated in Bobbie’s veins. “Do you think your sister wanted to run away?”

Sage shrugged his skinny shoulders. “She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said she’d take care of me if our parents went to prison. I guess she changed her mind.”

Bobbie and Marla exchanged a look. “Don’t worry about your sister. I’m certain she didn’t run away from you. We’ll find her,” his aunt promised.

Bobbie gave him a nod and a promise of her own. “That’s right and I’ll make sure Jacob Cook never bothers you again.” She had a feeling Fern’s recent behavior was not about drugs or some other self-destructive behavior. It was survival for her and her brother. “Tell me about what happened on Monday.”

“I was in my room building a Lego fort when I heard someone in the kitchen. I thought my mom had come home for lunch so I sneaked into the attic. I knew I’d be in big trouble.” His eyes grew rounder with each word.

“Are you sure it wasn’t your mom?” Bobbie’s pulse hammered with mounting anticipation. The sooner they had a break in this case the better. One theory was that the killer had staged the scene to muddle the investigation. If that wasn’t the case and this copycat was a serial killer, they could have more bodies all too soon, Fern Parker’s being one of them.

Sage nodded. “It was a man. He came into my parents’ room. I could hear him.”

“Could you see him?” Bobbie held her breath.

Sage shook his head no. “I only know it was a man ’cause I heard him cussing. He said bad words.”

Bobbie asked, “Did his voice sound like your father’s or like mine?”

“You’re a woman,” he said with a frown. “His voice sounded like my dad’s, but it wasn’t my dad. He said stuff like this—shit, damn it!” he repeated in an extra deep voice, and then he winced. “Sorry, but that’s what he said.”

“That’s okay,” Bobbie assured him. “Anything you tell me will be a big help. Are you certain you didn’t see him in your parents’ room?”

The boy nodded. The killer may have been laying out his game plan. Since the Seppuku Killer had murdered victims whom he considered to have shamed themselves, the Parkers’ recent notoriety was likely the motive for their murders. But what about Fern? There was no record of an abduction or a child victim in the Seppuku case. Not that Bobbie had found, anyway. Copycats often deviated somewhat from the original MOs but this one was quite a giant step. The range of vile things the killer may have done to Fern checked off in Bobbie’s head, made her stomach knot. Don’t let that girl be dead.

Sage jumped. Bobbie snapped her attention back to the present and followed his gaze to the door. The agent had returned and he and the MPD uniform were talking to a man in a white coat. She recognized the pediatrician in the lab coat and her heart rose into her throat. Charles Upchurch. Dr. Upchurch had been her little boy’s doctor.

She steeled herself for the encounter. She couldn’t keep avoiding the people who had known her before. “Don’t worry, Sage. Dr. Upchurch is a friend of mine. I know him really well. You don’t have to be afraid. Okay?”

The boy nodded, still looking uncertain.

“Have your aunt call me if you remember anything else. It’s really important that you do, okay?”

Sage nodded again, this time with obvious eagerness.

“Call me if you need anything,” Bobbie said to the aunt.