Legacy of Lies. Jill Nelson Elizabeth
killed in a shoot-out with a team of serial bank robbers. The guy was a bonafide hero, decorated and everything, but that didn’t make Nicole any less a widow. He sympathized.
Welcome to Ellington.
Rich snorted. This was not the way he’d hoped to be introduced to this woman. He’d been eyeing her from afar, giving her space to settle in and time for the sharpest pangs of loss to subside. Since Karen’s passing, Nicole was the first female to spark his interest in dating again…and now he had to approach her in cop mode.
He cruised the SUV to the nonexistent curb, grabbed his interview notebook and got out. She gazed at him, brow furrowed above deep brown eyes. He glanced down at his jeans and Minnesota Vikings T-shirt.
“Sorry.” He sent her a muted smile. “This caught me off duty at home. You must be Nicole, Jan’s granddaughter. I’m Police Chief Rich Hendricks.” He held out his hand.
She took it with a surprisingly firm grip for such a delicate hand and petite frame. Her brown eyes held equal parts sorrow and strength. Nothing squeamish about her, but then she’d been a cop’s wife, and her dad, Jan and Frank’s son, had been a cop, as well. At least, he wouldn’t have to deal with feminine hysterics. He liked her already, though she hadn’t said a word.
“This is what I found.” She pointed toward the bundle at her feet. “I dug it out of there.” She motioned toward a gap in the soil near the bottom of the trench.
Rich narrowed his gaze. The remains hadn’t been buried very deep—only about three feet. He made a note in his book, and then squatted beside the dirt-crusted bundle. A plastic object lay on the fabric. He nudged it with the end of his pen, and it rattled. A baby’s toy. It looked like the rattle had once been blue and white. The bits of clothing that survived might possibly have been red.
“The remains were wound tightly in the yard goods,” Nicole volunteered. “I unwrapped it having no idea I’d find something like this!”
Rich nodded her direction. “You did fine. How could you guess?”
Nicole squatted beside him. “What’s that?” She pointed to another object in the bundle, partially covered by cloth.
Rich nudged the item into view—a small metal cross. That and the careful shroudlike wrapping sent a message: whoever buried the child either felt remorse or actually cared for the infant.
A tag on the fabric caught his eye. He leaned close and made out the store label. His gaze met Nicole’s, but she looked away quickly. Not fast enough to hide the confusion and fear playing across her face. She was afraid her grandmother had something to do with this. A logical conclusion, given the circumstances. He needed to talk to Jan Keller right away.
He rose, Nicole beside him, and swiveled toward the sound of approaching vehicles. A police sedan, followed by the VW Jetta driven by one of their local doctors, pulled up behind his SUV. Rich’s lanky deputy, Terry Bender, climbed out of the sedan, cowboy boots first, beneath uniform slacks.
“Bring the yellow tape,” Rich called to him. “We’ll have to cordon off the area.”
The deputy shot him a thumbs-up and ducked back inside his car. Dr. Sharla Mead approached, carrying her kit. The pear-shaped woman around Rich’s own age of thirty-nine was the county medical examiner, as well as chief of staff at the small Ellington hospital.
The doctor gazed down at the bundle and shook her head. “I’ll do my best with COD, but you’ll need a forensics specialist out here to examine the whole package.”
Rich nodded. “Do what you can. Terry will give you a hand. I’ll call someone in from the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. This kind of case ought to be right up their alley.” Sharla nodded, and Rich turned toward Nicole. “Is your grandmother around? We need to visit.”
White-faced, Nicole nodded. “She’s in the house. Come with me.”
He’d follow her graceful form anywhere, any day, but interviewing a local senior citizen about a long-dead infant in her yard was not on his list of fun things to do, especially with an attractive woman around. They entered the back door into the kitchen. Jan Keller was seated at the table with her face in her hands. A full meal lay before her—meat congealing in its own grease, mashed potatoes, salad—but the dinner plates were clean and empty. Not surprising that no one had an appetite.
Jan looked up, her craggy face set in stone, though a suspicion of wetness smeared her cheeks. “I know you’ve gotta do your duty and ask all sorts of questions, Rich, but you could just as well save your breath. I can’t tell you one thing that will help.”
Rich opened his notebook. Did she mean can’t because she had no idea how the infant ended up buried beneath the rose garden, or can’t because she won’t spill what she knows? His gaze bored into hers, and color gradually seeped from her face. Her stare hid fear, or he’d eat his badge.
He groaned inwardly. If Jan Keller had been involved in what could well be the Elling infant’s kidnapping and murder, he’d have to arrest a pillar of the community, and she’d spend her waning years in the penitentiary.
His gaze shifted to Nicole, who leaned her back against the counter, arms crossed. The parted lips, pinched nostrils and wide eyes telegraphed desperation. If he took from her life the last bit of family she possessed, he could kiss any dream of romance goodbye.
TWO
Rich stood next to the trench and closed his cell phone, having finished speaking to a liaison at the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. Janet Keller hadn’t told him a thing, but maybe the physical evidence would. A forensics tech from the MBCA would be here in the morning. Dr. Mead was transporting the remains to the hospital where they would await the tech’s arrival.
“Keep the crime-scene tape up and cover the trench with a tarp,” Rich told Terry. “The tech might want to collect soil or check for other evidence from the site.”
“Sure thing, Chief.” His deputy grinned. “Don’t mind hangin’ around a little longer. Maybe catch another glimpse of that Keller girl. I remember when this pint-size squirt in pigtails used to visit her grandparents. She sure did grow up into somethin’ to look at.”
Rich frowned. “I didn’t live in Ellington that long ago, and you must’ve been a grown man already back then.”
“You sayin’ I’m too old for her?” The grin faded. “You’re not much younger than me, and I can tell you’re not immune to the lady’s charms.”
Rich didn’t bother to mention that he was more than half a decade younger than his deputy. The guy already had a hard time accepting him as boss without rubbing in the age difference. “I’m saying you’ve been in law enforcement too long to let a pretty face distract you.”
Terry chuckled, but there was an edge to the sound. “A pretty face doesn’t distract me but it always attracts me.”
Pressing his lips together, Rich waved to Terry and headed for his SUV. If Nicole fell for Terry’s lines, she wasn’t the woman he figured her for. Right now, he’d better concentrate on his duty. He climbed into his vehicle and checked his watch. Going on 8:00 p.m. But this set of interviews couldn’t wait until tomorrow. By then, rumors would be running rampant and catching a fresh reaction would be impossible.
Rich turned his vehicle toward the west and the house on the hill. Perched on the highest bump on this stretch of prairie, the Elling mansion brooded over the town like a disapproving parent. Simon Elling, the current patriarch of the founding family, lived there with his wife and assorted relatives. A sparse and motley crew, far from their heyday as the landed gentry of the county, when Ellings occupied most farmhouses within a thirty-mile radius. But they hadn’t lost a bit of their arrogance despite their dwindling numbers. This visit promised to be interesting.
He turned into the driveway that took him toward the circular drive in front of a three-story brick structure that rambled across half an acre of brown-patched lawn.