Chapter 4 - The Body They Left Behind
The photograph bothered me for a reason I couldn't explain.
Not the blood.
Not the dead man's face.
I'd seen both before.
It was the gravel.
I knew every inch of the ground around my repair shop.
I'd spent three summers filling potholes, rebuilding drainage, and leveling the parking area after winter frost tore it apart.
The gravel beneath Daniel Mercer was bright white.
Mine was gray.
I looked at Bennett.
"Where was this taken?"
"Your garage."
"Where exactly?"
"Behind the storage building."
I shook my head.
"No."
Bennett studied me.
"Why?"
"That's not my gravel."
Pike laughed.
"That's your defense?"
I ignored him.
"There's no limestone on that part of my property. I resurfaced it with crushed basalt last April."
Bennett turned the picture toward the light.
Her partner stepped closer.
"He's right," the agent said. "The material looks different."
Pike's smile vanished.
Bennett looked at him.
"Who supplied this image?"
Pike crossed his arms.
"Sheriff's office."
"Who took it?"
"I don't know."
"Then why are you carrying a warrant and attempting to detain the property owner before federal investigators have examined the scene?"
Pike said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Bennett pulled out her phone.
"Agent Keller, preserve this photograph and document the source. Request independent crime scene processing."
Keller nodded.
Then Bennett faced me.
"Commander, I need the full story."
I looked toward Rachel.
She was staring at the photograph.
Her expression was strange.
Not shock.
Not grief.
Recognition.
"Ask my wife," I said.
Rachel's head snapped up.
"Ethan."
"Tell them about Daniel."
She shook her head.
"Please don't."
Bennett's tone remained calm.
"Mrs. Hayes, if you know something about this man's death, now is the time."
Rachel backed against the truck.
"I didn't kill him."
Nobody had accused her.
She seemed to realize that.
Her eyes widened.
Pike stepped forward.
"She needs a lawyer."
Bennett looked at him.
"Are you representing Mrs. Hayes?"
"No."
"Then stop answering for her."
Rachel began crying.
"I didn't kill him," she repeated.
I felt something inside me start to harden.
"Rachel," I said, "what happened last night?"
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
"Travis came to the house."
"What time?"
"About ten."
"I was at the shop."
"I know."
"Why did he come?"
"He wanted the spare key."
I stared at her.
"The garage key?"
She nodded.
"Why?"
"He said he needed to retrieve some equipment."
"From my property?"
"Yes."
"And you gave it to him."
Rachel looked at the dirt.
"I thought I was helping."
"Helping whom?"
She whispered, "You."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
I thought about the long winters we'd spent together.
The nights she'd sat beside me when old memories wouldn't let me sleep.
The promises we'd made.
Whatever had gone wrong between us, I never imagined she'd become part of a plan to destroy me.
Bennett interrupted.
"Deputy Pike, you're free to leave for now. You'll receive instructions about preserving your communications and making yourself available for questioning."
Pike looked almost relieved.
Then she added, "Do not contact Sheriff Cole about this interview."
He smiled.
"Sure thing."
Bennett didn't smile back.
"That's not a suggestion."
Pike climbed into his vehicle.
He drove away too fast.
Bennett watched him disappear.
"He's going straight to Cole," I said.
"Probably."
"You're letting him?"
"We have teams moving. I don't need him obedient. I need him predictable."
That earned my respect.
She turned toward Rachel.
"Mrs. Hayes, I'm arranging a separate interview in a secure location."
Rachel reached for me.
"Ethan, please."
I stepped back.
"Tell them everything."
Her hand fell.
"I can't."
"Then tell me why."
She looked past Bennett toward the darkening road.
When she spoke, her voice sounded dead.
"Because Travis has my brother."
I froze.
Rachel's younger brother, Caleb, had disappeared from our lives eight months earlier.
She told me he'd moved to Idaho for construction work.
We'd argued about him.
Not because I disliked Caleb.
Because he'd been struggling with pills and debts, and Rachel kept sending money without telling me.
I'd wanted to help him find treatment.
She'd accused me of treating him like a mission instead of a person.
Now I understood.
"Caleb is alive?"
Rachel began sobbing.
"I don't know anymore."
Bennett moved closer.
"When did you last see your brother?"
"Nine days ago."
"Where?"
Rachel looked toward me.
"Under the garage."
I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.
"There's no room under the garage," I said.
Rachel swallowed.
"There's a concrete hatch beneath the old hydraulic lift."
I remembered the lift.
A rusted four-post machine left behind by the previous owner.
I'd never gotten it working.
I'd intended to remove it every summer.
Never had.
"There can't be a basement," I said.
Rachel shook her head.
"Not a basement."
"What, then?"
She looked at Bennett.
"A tunnel."
Bennett went still.
"How long?"
Rachel wiped her face.
"I don't know."
"Where does it lead?"
Rachel stared at me.
"To the old county emergency shelter."
I knew the place.
Built during the Cold War.
Abandoned before I moved to Montana.
Seven miles from my property.
"Why would Cole need a tunnel?" I asked.
Rachel's face crumpled.
"Because it's how they move people without anyone seeing."
Bennett's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression changed.
"Say that again."
Silence.
May you like
Then she turned toward me.
"Commander, your garage is on fire."
