A Grave End Read online

  A woman died years ago, and the body’s still missing.

  Julie Hall’s conscience tells her she needs to use her skills to help a grieving family find their daughter’s long-missing remains. The problem is, Alice was last seen in Julie’s hometown—a place so full of traumatic memories, the very idea of returning there nearly paralyzes Julie.

  Clear boundaries help Julie overcome her fears and take the job. She’ll go all out with her search, but only for one week. An end date in sight will ease the anxiety she and her FBI boyfriend have about the price she’ll have to pay to do the right thing.

  Despite a growing sense of foreboding as she hits one dead end after another, Julie is driven to keep looking for Alice. But after receiving vile threats and with her self-imposed deadline looming, Julie realizes she was right to be afraid—and she worries she may not survive this case.

  Don’t miss the first three books in the Bodies of Evidence series by Wendy Roberts. A Grave Calling, A Grave Search and A Grave Peril are all available now from Carina Press!

  One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

  This book is approximately 72,000 words

  Also available from Wendy Roberts

  and Carina Press

  A Grave Peril

  A Grave Search

  A Grave Calling

  Grounds to Kill

  Also available from Wendy Roberts and Harlequin

  Dating Can Be Deadly

  Also available from Wendy Roberts

  Drop Dead Beauty

  Dead Suite

  Dead and Kicking

  Devil May Ride

  The Remains of the Dead

  A Grave End

  Wendy Roberts

  Thank you, dear readers, for following Julie’s journey.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Excerpt from Grounds to Kill by Wendy Roberts

  Chapter One

  The bones of the dead don’t care where they rest. It’s those who are left behind that are driven by a need to bring the bodies home. My job is to use my dowsing rods to help find missing remains, and hopefully, give some peace to the living. It wouldn’t have been my first career choice, but I didn’t choose the departed. The dead chose me.

  I sat at the kitchen table with laptop open staring at a number of emails received about the same case over the past few months. From the very first message months ago, I thought there was no way I was going to take this case. The emails were from a man in Blaine, Washington, my old hometown. His daughter-in-law had been killed, and although his son was doing time for the murder, the body had never been recovered. The fact that the missing body was someone from my old hometown was the major part of the reason I didn’t want to touch this case. But over the past few weeks I’d grown more curious.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  Garrett walked into the kitchen and I lifted my face for a good morning kiss. He smelled of soap and shave cream.

  “Are you taking a new job?” He joined me at the kitchen table.

  “Maybe.” I frowned and shook my head. “It wasn’t my first choice but now I think it might be time I talked to someone and got some firsthand information.”

  “This isn’t the one where the guy is in prison, is it?”

  “Yes. The other day I finally replied asking for more information but this morning I received a reply saying the dad had died of cancer so I didn’t have to bother.”

  “Now that they don’t need you, it’s making you more curious in taking this on?”

  I opened my mouth to say that wasn’t the only reason, but Garrett’s phone rang in the other room and he jogged off to answer the call. I returned my attention to the messages on my screen.

  When Garrett returned he had his leather duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Going somewhere?” I got up and went to him.

  “The case I’ve been working...” He dropped his bag on the floor and circled his arms around my waist. “There’s some follow-up I’ve got to do out of state. I’ll be a couple days.”

  “Damn. I was hoping you’d be home this weekend.” I rested my cheek against his chest.

  “You had big plans to stain the deck, right?” He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “I promise I’ll get to it.”

  This wasn’t about the deck. I needed to talk to him about something, but it wasn’t the kind of thing I could bring up as he was on his way out the door. I’d already put if off a few days so I guessed a couple more wouldn’t hurt. He kissed me goodbye in a way that left me breathless and aching for him long after his car backed out of the driveway. Wookie whined.

  “Daddy’s only going to be a couple days,” I told the dog, giving his head a reassuring pat.

  I returned to my computer and printed off some information. It was going to take a number of hours to drive to visit this potential client, and even though I was still on the fence about taking this case, I hoped the long drive would help me clear my head about a lot of things.

  * * *

  The ferry lineup for the Edmonds to Kingston route wasn’t too long. I put my Jeep in park and settled in to wait for my crossing. A dark knot of October clouds were knitting together and a gust of wind caused some leaves to dance across the hood of my car. I was scrolling through my phone when it rang in my hand. It was my best friend, Tracey.

  “It’s a beautiful fall day, isn’t it?” She skipped the hellos. “So I was thinking who better to get together and bake cookies with than my bestie. I bought dough for four dozen cookies and I will eat every single last one of them myself. I need you to save me.”

  “I’m about to drive onto a ferry so you’re on your own.”

  “You’re doing a road trip and didn’t call me?” She sounded hurt and then added, “Or is this a romantic getaway with Mr. FBI?”

  “Nope, Mr. FBI is away and I’m checking out a potential client.” The ferry was beginning to load so I started my Jeep. “How about I stop in and we can do the cookie thing when I get back late this afternoon?”

  “Deal.”

  After I disconnected the call I drove onto the boat. The ferry ride was only a half hour, which was just enough time to walk up on deck. The salty air whipped across Puget Sound, tore through my hair and misted my face. This October day was set to bring an assortment of torrential rains and breaking sun that mimicked my mixed mood.

  The ferry began to dock and I returned to my Jeep, my cheeks still stinging from the cold. Playing an audio book on positive thinking, I continued my journey. Fifteen minutes after I drove off the ferry, I was driving across the Hood Canal Bridge. Although I didn’t like to walk across bridges, driving on them didn’t usually give me an issue. But driving on a mile-long floating bridge caused my nerves to ping.

  It was the thought of this case that caused my hands to still be gripping the wheel too tightly twenty minutes later. I stopped at Fat Smitty’s and grabbed a chocolate shake and a hot dog but I still had a couple hours to go. It really was a beautiful drive, the kind Garrett and I would’ve loved to do together, but the destination left a sour taste in my mouth.

  At the Ozette Correcti ons Center, a line of people were already waiting to be processed into the prison for visiting hours. Although I’d found bodies that helped put people away, this was my first time being inside one of these facilities. I was about to have a sit-down with a convicted murderer so it was no wonder my stomach clenched as I signed in and went through screening that rivaled the most thorough airport security. I sat in the waiting room with dozens of others.

  My name was called and I was brought into the large visitor room. Dozens of inmates in their beige uniforms sat at tables across from their guests. There was a play area on the far side for kids, and at the other end of the room, a bank of vending machines. It only took me a couple seconds to spot my potential client. His face had been in all the papers.

  Roscoe Ebert got to his feet and waved me over. I wound my way around other people to take a seat across from him at a large table.

  “Jesus, I thought you’d never come.” He nervously scooched his chair closer to the table. “You got approved as a visitor months ago. Every week I’ve been waiting.”

  “Listen, Roscoe, the only reason I’m here is because your dad must’ve sent me a dozen emails begging me to take your case.”

  “So you waited until he’s dead to agree. Nice.”

  “Your sister told me that cancer got him. Sorry for your loss.” I felt guilty for not telling Roscoe’s father that I’d at least interview his son, and that guilt had brought me this far but that didn’t mean more.

  “Dad kept thinking he could beat it, and for years he did.”

  “Your sister told me I didn’t need to bother—”

  “Kim didn’t tell you not to bother ’cuz she thinks I’m guilty. She just doesn’t think you can help.”

  “She might be right. Look, I figure I’d honor your dad’s request and at least come talk to you. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go looking for a body. I’ll get your take on things but just because I’m here doesn’t mean squat.”

  He leaned back in his chair and frowned. Roscoe Ebert looked lean and mean and wore the expression of a man not used to being told no. He had a large neck tattoo of a dagger piercing a bloody heart. Another tat was a large Chinese symbol with thick black strokes that was centered on his forehead. “Fine. Get me something from the vending machine before we start. Doritos and a Coke.”

  “I didn’t bring any cash.”

  “Seriously? Oh my god, dude!” He scrubbed his hand across the stubble on his shaven head. “Who the hell comes to visit and doesn’t bring cash?”

  “This isn’t a social call.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m only allowed one visitor at a time so you being here means that someone with actual snack money is being turned away for you.”

  I doubted there was a long line of people waiting to see Roscoe Ebert but I needed to take charge of this meeting so I scraped my chair back loudly and got to my feet as if to leave.

  “Nah. Sit down.” Roscoe flashed me a quick smile filled with rotting teeth and waved to my chair. “I was joking. Jesus.” I remained standing until he cleared his throat and added between clenched teeth, “Please.”

  I took my seat and folded my hands on the table. “Tell me everything that happened.”

  “You already know the case, right? It was in all the freakin’ papers and I’m sure my dad and sister—”

  “Yes, your dad told me everything and I checked out the papers, but I need to hear it from you.” I tapped the table with my finger. “From the beginning.”

  He pulled his chair even closer to the table.

  “You remember Alice, right? You two went to the same grade school, I think.”

  “Yes.”

  My memory of Alice was the main reason I came today. We hadn’t been friends but once when getting changed for PE class in fourth grade, I’d caught sight of bruising up and down her back, and another time at recess I saw a bruised imprint of a large hand on her upper arm. When she’d caught me looking at her arm she tugged down the sleeve of her T-shirt in an attempt to cover the mark. I’d met her nervous gaze and slowly rolled up my own sleeve to show a map of purple and green. We’d shared a look between us that needed no words for connection. I might not have known Alice the adult but I was here to honor that beaten child.

  “So this is how it went...” Roscoe closed his eyes and tilted his head as if trying to bring it all to mind. “Alice was a few years younger so I didn’t pay her no attention growing up. I moved out of Blaine after graduation. Went to work for an uncle at a garage in Portland but when the garage closed I moved back home, and when I saw her again it was like love at first sight, you know?” He grinned dreamily as he opened his eyes. “She had this flaming red hair that was like fire, and more freckles than you could ever count. I was fixing transmissions at the shop next to the convenience store where she worked. I went in to the store every break I had to buy something. I’d buy a soda or a magazine or a chocolate bar just to get a look at her. Finally I got up the guts to ask her out and she turned me down flat.”

  He laughed at that and then continued, “One day, I went home after my shift and I spent an hour in the shower scrubbing all the grease off my hands, and then I put on my go-to-funeral pants and a button-down shirt. I sprayed on some cologne and even stopped to buy one red rose at the market before I drove to her work and asked her out again. This time she said yes.”

  “How long before you got married?”

  “A couple years. I wanted to wait until I could afford a place of our own. Dad said I could have a piece of our land to call my own so I bought a used double-wide and we called it home. It’s just down the road from—” He nodded his chin at me to indicate his trailer hadn’t been far from where I grew up. “It was kind of a dump but Alice fixed it up nice. Borrowed a sewing machine from my ma and made all the curtains herself. Kept it sparkling clean. Made me homemade meals every night. Perfect, you know?”

  “And then...?”

  “Things went to shit.” His look soured. “You know what it’s like. Everything is peaches and cream and lovey-dovey in the beginning, but then all the little things start to bug the hell out of you. She wanted me to work more hours so we could buy more shit, and in the meantime she was working hardly at all. Her hours got cut and instead of looking for more work, she just sat around thinking of all the stuff we should buy.” He held up a hand in case I was going to be upset about that comment. “Hey, I wanted stuff too so don’t go thinking that was the worst thing. We argued but I still loved her, you know? We were still doing it on a regular basis.” He gave me an oily smile, but I kept my expression impassive.

  “And?” I wanted him to get to the point.

  “It’s simple. She wanted kids. We tried but it just didn’t happen. At first we were cool about it. Just kept saying it would happen in time but it didn’t. After a couple years she was freaking out and we went to the doctor. It was me. No swimmers.” His eyes grew hard. “Things were different after that. She got depressed. I kept feeling like it was all my fault. She wanted to try in vitro with someone else’s seed. You know how much that shit costs?” He blew a raspberry through his lips. “We couldn’t afford it. My dad offered to pay. He wanted a grandchild but I refused to take his money for that. He was already helping us out. No matter how many ways I explained that to Alice, she would not let it go.”

  “So, you killed her.”

  “No. I did not.” He pointed a finger in my face and his face grew dark. “Since Alice was like a dog with a bone about getting pregnant, I went and got her a puppy. A black lab that she right away named Jet. She loved that dog like crazy. We both did. It gave her something to do. Something to focus on besides getting pregnant.”

  I thought about how Wookie came into my life and was my best friend during tough times.

  “Dogs can be great companions.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, Alice was shit at training the damn thing so all of that fell on me but I didn’t mind. Jet was a quick learner. After a couple months I could take that dog anywhere off leash and he’d never take off. If I told him to stay, he wouldn’t move. He loved to ride in my pickup with his head hanging out the window.” Roscoe’s eyes grew damp and he cleared his throat loudly. “Sorry. I miss that damn dog.”

  But not your dead wife. It wasn’t lost on me that Roscoe didn’t get emotional until he’d brought up the dog.

  “I heard that Alice loved Jet too.”

  “Sure, but not the same. She loved him more when he was a cute puppy and not so much when he was tracking in mud and fleas.” He sighed. “Anyway, the dog wasn’t enough. We split.”

  It was a matter of court record that Roscoe and Alice had fought over custody of the dog at the time of her death.

  “When I walked out, Alice went nuts about keeping custody of the dog.”

  “I can see that. The dog was hers. You’d given it to her as a gift.”

  He snorted.

  “Jet was for both of us. Sure she went all goo-goo over him at first but she never once took him to the vet or picked up his shit. She liked cuddling him in her arms but would chase him with a broom if he got hold of one of her shoes. I was the one the dog respected.” He thumped his chest. “Jet wouldn’t even come to her if she called him. I’m telling you the dog had zero interest in her.”

  “Must’ve pissed you off when the judge said you had to share him.”

  “Damn straight.” He put his palms out. “But you know what? I was angry about that in the beginning, but I knew it was just a matter of time before she stopped wanting Jet so much. It had already gotten to the point where she’d ask to bring him back to me after five days instead of seven because she wanted to go out drinking with her girlfriends and was worried Jet would eat another pair of shoes. So I knew soon Jet would be back with me full-time so I was pretty chill about it.”

  “But the night Alice was killed, witnesses said you two had a big fight over the dog. If you were so chill, what was that about?”