Buried Secrets Read online

  Buried Secrets

  A McKenna Mystery Novel

  By Kate Anslinger

  Grace

  I was born with what some people call a gift. If a criminal makes eye contact with me, I am inundated with glimpses of their past and pushed into a world of hate and violence. To me, it’s a curtain pulled back from a crime scene I don’t want to see. It’s a curse that penetrates my every waking hour with an unfiltered lens, giving me a persistent need to track down those who’ve done wrong and bring justice to the victims. To my mother, it is a gift, but to me, it is a constant battle I must fight.

  Chapter One

  Grace had been hunched over for two hours, enthralled in organizing past cases. She was preoccupied with moving closed files into the completed and sealed-off cabinet that housed the many records of the Bridgeton Police Department. The town of only 17,000 people was home to many minuscule crimes and very few notable ones, until recently. While the paperwork chronicled that the case was closed, Grace never felt that anything was officially over in law enforcement.

  Mackenzie Waterford’s picture stared back at her, and for the last time, Grace looked back at the piercing, blue eyes of the teen who once had it all. Thanks to the girl’s mother, Mackenzie would have another chance at life, but she’d never be the same. Last she heard, the Waterford family had moved out of Bridgeton to somewhere in Western Massachusetts after the mom was sentenced for murder. How could she blame them for wanting to escape the small-town life and start fresh somewhere where no one knew them? The aftermath of the Waterford case turned the town into a tsunami of rumors; Grace still wasn’t sure if the truth was anywhere out there. The story became twisted over time, with added victims and false suspects, tied in with tidbits that seemed to morph every time the story traveled from one person’s mouth to another.

  Grace’s last vision was over six months ago, and that was perfectly fine with her. Without visions, Grace was more clearheaded and able to focus on her own issues for once. She could deal with average small-town crimes like putting the fear into underage smokers and dealing with the many complaints from the town’s most diehard residents. She silently said goodbye to Mackenzie one last time before the radios’ beeping and static sprang to life, making her forget about the blonde teen who had flipped her world upside down just six months ago.

  “Looks like we have an accident on the corner of Jefferson and Pearson Street.” Lieutenant Sullivan’s gruff voice sounded through the radio with the quintessential Boston dropped r’s Grace knew well.

  Without missing a beat, Grace picked up the phone and dialed the control room.

  “Hey, Grace, I got the owner of R & R Variety on the line. He says some guy just ran into a woman who was standing at the bus stop or something. He claims he went up on the curb by accident, but it sounds more like he’s been hittin’ the bottle. Not even two days into summer and we already got our first DUI.”

  Just like that, Grace’s day of organizing files and attending a school event on safety was all discombobulated thanks to another drunk driver. It was June 16th; school was expected to get out for the summer in just five days, which was when things, in addition to the weather, got heated. The town was like one of those wind-up musical jewelry boxes, and it took all winter to turn the key and get it going. By the time June rolled around every year, the music would be at full blast. College kids were home for the summer, driving their parents’ cars too fast down the narrow one-way streets, while the beaches were infiltrated by what the townies called ‘outsiders’—people who just wanted to visit a beach for the day to escape the more congested city areas with no ocean air. Since Grace had been hired at the Bridgeton Police Department ten years ago, she had seen the town morph into more than just a sleepy seaside community. Now, it was known as a hidden gem. Even airplane traffic picked up the pace in the summertime, as more people vied to come to the Boston area when the weather was bearable, and the streets weren’t filled with dirty snow and undesirable driving conditions. Bridgeton, whose classification as ‘hidden gem’ slowly took on new nicknames, was frequently referred to as ‘up-and-coming’ or ‘developing.’ Some didn’t like the push for more stores, restaurants and living quarters, and they were content with the staples that had been there for decades. But a whole new crop of younger families were moving in from elsewhere for the affordable living, flourishing school district, and the possibility of a beach that would one day be lined with store fronts in hopes of driving the town’s economic growth.

  By the time Grace reached the scene of the accident, she suspected the driver was even more drunk than he had been just moments before when running onto the curb. Officer Pinard was engaged in what was sure to be a fun conversation with the drunk guy, who appeared to be struggling to stand.

  “Good afternoon, Detective McKenna,” Officer Pinard said. Caleb Pinard stood with his hands slightly on his hips, seemingly to take up less of a presence. While fairly new to the force, he lacked that normal cocky stance the younger officers naturally wore just moments after they graduated from police training. He always had an abrupt answer and spoke only when he had something truly important to say, which Grace felt would do wonders for his career.

  “I’m guessing by the looks of it, you gave him a Breathalyzer?”

  “Yes ma’am, we’ve got a BAC of .11 percent.”

  “Caleb, what did I say about using the word ‘ma’am’ around me?” Grace looked over at the drunk guy, who wasn’t making much effort to appear composed. His red nose alone was enough to confirm that alcohol was a prevalent ingredient in his diet. He leaned against the brick wall of R & R Variety, showing off a set of crossed eyes and a sway in his stature that he seemed accustomed to from years of overindulging in the drink.

  “Sorry, Grace. Habit. And Barb kinda beat it into me.”

  Grace thought about Barb as the lifeline of the police department but also a source of unnecessary demands. Barb tended to burn fear into the newer officers by demanding that they call her ‘ma’am,’ as if they didn’t naturally cower when they walked past her. The woman was not just big in body build; she was also big in presence, like a brightly colored floral shirt amidst a funeral.

  “And the woman he allegedly hit?”

  “Oh, she’s over there, doesn’t seem to want to chat much,” Caleb said, gesturing to a woman leaning against a tree that overlooked a small patch of land in the circle of the town’s main stores: a coffee shop, hardware store, four hair salons, a diner, and a deli.

  “Not injured. Evidently, he missed hitting her by like a foot. She seems a bit shaken up but claims she’s fine and would rather just go about her business.”

  “I’ll start over here,” Grace said, approaching the man. “Can you keep her company for now?”

  “Will do, Grace,” Caleb said with a slight smile that peeled across his lips, revealing a dimple in his right cheek.

  Grace never liked talking to drunks but doing so was a big part of the job description. In a town with more liquor stores than convenience stores, it was inevitable that she would run into at least one drunk during her daily day of detective work. The man was hunched over now, and she was unsure whether he would vomit or fall asleep. She’d seen both things happen when presented with this situation and neither were good. She was in no mood to try removing a 300-pound man from the streets before the kids at the nearby elementary school got out for the day.

  “Sir.” She approached cautiously, not knowing what kind of drunk he was. No reaction.

  “Sir,” she said with a grip on his arm. After what seemed like several minutes, he looked up, bloodshot eyes appearing to look to an imaginary place beyond her.

  “Hellllooooooo, Gracie,” he slurred as he reached to grab her hand, attempting to shake
like they were old colleagues.

  “Michael…” she pulled her hand back, recognizing the man from a previous arrest. He looked as if he’d gained at least 70 pounds since she’d last arrested him, his face so swollen and puffy that his round, blue eyes were like tiny slits lost amongst billowy, red pillows.

  A strand of greasy, dark hair fell across his forehead as he stabbed his pockets with his hands, missing twice before he was finally able to get them in. His eyes gazed to the side slowly as his face followed, a delayed reaction to someone exiting the nearby coffee shop. He displayed a strong profile hidden beneath days of toxin-induced binges and for the first time Grace thought he may have once been a looker. Maybe he held a real job, wore a suit and tie and didn’t waste away his days in a drunken stupor. And in a sadder realization, maybe he had a wife and kids he’d left behind to pick up the pieces without him.

  “Nice dayyyyy out, righhhht?” more words slurred from his mouth. Knowing that she would get nowhere with him, she called for backup to bring him to the drunk tank. Trusting that he was in no state to move, Grace walked toward Caleb, who was standing silently beside the victim.

  “Caleb, can you call for backup to get this guy—Michael—to a holding cell? He’s too drunk to talk right now.”

  “Will do.” Caleb, ever efficient, was already calling into his radio. Grace imagined he was a good kid for his parents. He was so easygoing and unaffected by normal police personality traits that involved ego and he never questioned authority, although that could be the result of his military training. Caleb was one of the few officers the department had hired right after serving four years in the Marine Corps, as special forces. Surely this was a cake walk compared to what he saw when he was deployed to Iraq.

  “I’ll handle…”

  “Miriam…Miriam Haskell,” he responded, two steps ahead.

  “Thanks, Caleb,” Grace said, writing the name down on a pad before she looked up to take in the woman’s face for the first time. Miriam looked toward the nearby hardware shop as if she was looking out over a vast sea, her face in a dream-like state.

  “Miriam, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Grace spoke to the side of her face as she looked off in the distance, distracted. “Miriam?”

  “Oh yeah, um, sorry.” The woman turned her head to face Grace, revealing two blue eyes and a barrage of images that took over Grace’s steady demeanor. A man with tangled light brown hair and eyes so many shades of green they look like speckled gems, pulls her from reality as if he is begging her to save him. His lips turn blue and his eyes go from passionate distress to that of stunned relief. Ocean water washes over his face, slowly making him disappear like he was just a stranger who passed through her thoughts.

  But Grace knew better than that. She was going to be haunted by this man who was somehow harmed by Miriam. It had been just over six months since Grace saw her last vision in the eyes of a criminal and she was hoping that maybe, somehow, her gift was gone, and she no longer had to be on the receiving end of such horrific crimes.

  “Sure, that’s okay,” Miriam said as she looked down at a watch that was fastened to her shaking wrist. “I…ah…just have to get to a meeting by 2:00.”

  “Meeting? What type of meeting are you headed to?” Grace asked as if she was making a friendly conversation. Instead, she was inquiring about a case that she was going to have to investigate on her own, without the help of her fellow officers.

  “It’s a school fundraiser meeting,” she said, focusing her eyes on everything around her except Grace, who was trying to assess the woman’s age. She clearly looked like she was too old to have a kid in the school district. She could possibly be a teacher who was on the verge of retiring but even that would be pushing it.

  “Are you a teacher or a volunteer?”

  “No, I…um…I have a grandchild in preschool,” she continued but stopped before offering any more information. Grace’s aggravation started to grow as she realized that getting answers from this woman was going to be like pulling teeth.

  “Okay, Miriam. I’ll try to be fast so you can get to your meeting. Want to sit down for a minute?” Grace gestured toward a lonely bench that sat on the other side of the grassy area under a tree that had seen better days.

  “Sure.”

  Miriam headed toward the bench, gripping a canvas bag that said “Greatest Grandma” in hot pink, puffy paint. While her body appeared small and frail, she walked with a purpose and even had a bounce in her step as if she was walking on her toes. She lowered herself on the bench, sitting so close to the edge Grace was afraid she might actually slide off.

  “So, you were walking to your meeting when the driver attempted to turn the corner but went up on the curb and almost hit you. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah…yes, I’m fine, he didn’t hit me,” Miriam said, staring straight ahead at the cluster of old men seated outside of the Bridgeton Diner, a town staple. Her eyes darted left to right as if she was looking for an escape.

  “Miriam…Miss Haskell, Michael over there is extremely intoxicated. He could’ve hurt you badly.”

  “But, I’m fine, really, I’m fine. I’d like to just let him get on with his day,” she said, clearly unaware that Michael’s day was gone. He’d made the decision to give his day up when he took the first sip from his bottle of booze.

  “Okay, Miss Haskell, Miriam... I understand you are in a hurry, but had it been any different, Michael could’ve killed someone. It could’ve been a small child…”

  As if Miriam was just alerted to the most enlightening thing in the world, her eyes transformed from being void of expression to being framed with heightened eyebrows and direct eye contact with Grace. That’s when Grace was overcome with a smattering of images that came at her like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. A pair of crushed black-rimmed glasses and a flash of a massive fish tank with a sea turtle gliding from wall to wall splashed across her vision before they were washed away by the green, speckled eyes again.

  “Yes, yes…I understand that,” Miriam pulled Grace out of the world that she was just thrown into. She adjusted her bag repeatedly, a nervous tick, and appeared to be focusing on everything around her other than Grace’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I was just a bit startled and I hate to be late for meetings.”

  “Can you just reiterate what happened, so I have a valid report?”

  In most cases an officer would send a victim on her way, but Grace had been corrupted by this woman’s past, so she was forced to press her for information. She wished she could walk away, arrest big Michael and go about her business, but according to her visions Michael was far more innocent than this alleged do-gooder grandmother.

  “Sure...I…was walking on the sidewalk and I suddenly I heard a loud noise,” she said, continuously running her index finger along the strap of her bag. “And that car, that car over there was up on the curb…just a bit behind where I was standing.”

  “So, you’re saying that the car could’ve hit you, had it been just a tad closer to where you were walking?”

  “Well, yes…I suppose so,” Miriam finally admitted to being in a possibly tragic situation.

  “And you weren’t waiting at the bus stop, instead you were actually walking by it?”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Miriam’s eyes darted side to side like they were in a fierce game of Ping Pong.

  “Okay, well, thank you Miss Haskell. Now, can I offer you a lift to the school? I’m assuming your meeting is at the school.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, though. Thank you,” Miriam turned to walk away, giving Grace a chance to take her in. Knee-length shorts hung off her lower body, revealing a pair of legs that were so thin that Grace wondered how she managed to walk the hilly streets that flanked the town. Strappy sandals barely clung to her feet, and gently clapped on the sidewalk that led to one of the main streets. Her hair was more grey than brown and several pieces of frizz erupted from a loose bun that was held together at the nap
e of her neck with a green scrunchie.

  “Miss Haskell…I have one more question for you?”

  The woman didn’t turn around and Grace wasn’t sure if that was because she was nervous or if she was losing her hearing.

  “Miss Haskell?” She raised her voice a notch, this time managing to reach her, evoking her to turn around. “What’s the fundraiser for?”

  “Oh, it’s for the 4th of July parade.” Miriam allowed a tiny smile to display some humanity within her firm and steady facial expression.

  “Great. I hope to see you there,” Grace said, knowing she had all she needed to find out more information on the woman. The town’s 4th of July parade was like the Super Bowl for football fans. Every year on the 4th, starting at 9:00 in the morning, several generations lined the streets dressed in red, white and blue as they applauded the few floats that managed to get constructed. While the majority of the floats were the same year to year, some newbies tried to push the limit and throw in something new every now and then, which always ended up causing an uproar with the longtime locals. Last year’s talked-about float showcased a flock of vegetarians tossing out fruit and veggies to the disgruntled townies on the sidelines while they held picket signs that demanded that everyone stop eating meat. This didn’t go over well for the parade-goers who stood in long lines to get the free hot dogs donated by the town officials.

  ***

  “So, how was it?” Lt. Sullivan said in greeting as Grace pushed her way through the main entrance of the station.

  “Oh, you know, the usual…just another town drunk trying to clear the curb.”

  “Yep, good old Michael. You’d never believe me if I showed you a picture of that guy when he was in his prime. He was a heartthrob. The ladies lined up to get a date with him.”

  “Really? What happened?” Grace leaned on the counter that joined the control room with the entryway, always eager to hear some history from the man who was a true townie. Everyone called him Sully, but Grace stuck with Lieutenant, because it just seemed to fit his knowledge and connectivity to the town.