To The Bone (A Kate Reid Novel Book 9) Read online

  To the Bone

  A Kate Reid Novel

  Robin Mahle

  HARP House Publishing, LLC.

  Published by HARP House Publishing

  February 2019 (1st edition)

  Copyright ©2019 by Robin Mahle

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design: Covermint Design

  Editor: Hercules Editing and Consulting Services www.bzhercules.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Also by Robin Mahle

  1

  The ear-splitting pitch of a dump truck in reverse caught foreman Mike Hawthorne’s attention as he stepped out of his pickup truck. The stocky man wearing a hard hat and thick coat shoved his hands in his pockets and gave the dump truck a wide berth before making his way to the opposite end of the jobsite. It was supposed to be spring, but in Boston, along the Charles River in an area known as Allston, there were no signs of new life springing anytime soon. In fact, Mike grew concerned they might get another hard frost that would again delay the job. He approached the banks of the river and peered into its rolling gray waters.

  “Mike? Hey, man, can you come take a look at something?”

  He turned away from the view and set his eyes on a coworker. “What is it?”

  “I think we’re gonna have some problems with the foundation pour. Inspector’s here. Wants to talk to you.”

  Mike pursed his lips and followed the man back toward the site of the new expansion. This part of the river was comprised of hotels and restaurants that were adjacent to industrial parks and warehouses. The original warehouse where work had commenced was rundown and under renovation while they were constructing a new building next to it.

  The inspector met them halfway. “How ah ya?” His unmistakably Bostonian accent was thick and his voice raspy like a three-pack-a-day smoker.

  “Doin’ good. And you?” Mike replied with a handshake.

  “Yeah, yeah. All right. Just having some problems over here.” The inspector started back toward the area in question. “You got your rebar here spaced too far apart. You know that’s not to code, Mike.”

  “You’re right. It ain’t to code.” He turned to his worker. “Yo, what the hell happened here?”

  “Boss? Boss?” A panic-stricken young man with a smooth face and wild eyes charged toward Mike and the inspector.

  “Whoa!” Mike held out his arms as a measure to halt the kid’s momentum. “Calm down, son.”

  “Boss, man, you gotta come see this. Over here!”

  As a foreman, it was Mike’s job to remain composed, especially in the presence of an inspector. He had no idea what this kid was talking about, but his first thought was that someone had gotten hurt—badly. “Okay.” He turned back to the inspector. “I’d better check this out. Gimme a minute?”

  “I’m coming with you.” The inspector followed as Mike started on.

  It was the last thing he wanted; the city finding out whatever it was this kid was going on about. He eyed the worker. “This better be damn important, kid.”

  The worker marched straight toward the massive excavator that had come to a stop and had its bucket stuck in mid-air.

  The operator hopped out. “Yo, Mike.”

  “What the hell’s going on here, Sam? Why is this kid wigging the hell out?”

  “You better have a look for yourself, brother.”

  With the inspector looking on with keen interest, Mike, his worker, and Sam the operator, stood in front of the open trench.

  “Okay, kid. What the hell am I looking at here?” Mike crouched down and peered into the hole in the ground.

  “The bucket was just pulling out the muck and I was standing here, like, you know, like I was supposed to, watching and all, and then I saw something and I told him to stop.” The young worker was flustered as he spit out the words.

  Mike turned to Sam. “What is he talking about?”

  Sam pointed into the trench. “Right there. What does that look like to you, Mike? Huh? ‘Cause it looks like a goddamn hand to me.”

  “Are you shitting me?” He peered into the trench again. “I don’t see no…What the…” He turned deadpan and stood up. “Okay. Okay. Let’s all just calm down here.”

  “It’s a goddamn hand, Mike,” the kid mimicked Sam. “What if there’s a body attached to it?”

  The inspector stared into the trench. “Holy mother of God. That’s it. No one does any more work around here, you got it?”

  “Wait, now hang on, I understand we gotta stop here, but we ain’t gotta hold up the whole shebang,” Mike said. “Come on, we can work through this, can’t we?”

  “Mike, you gotta hand right there, in case you can’t see straight. Ain’t no one doing nothing till the cops get here and check this out.”

  Resigned, Mike peered at the men who had now gathered around. “Well, don’t just stand there. Call the damn cops. Let them deal with this so we can get back to work.”

  Sam retrieved his cell phone. “I’m on it, Boss.”

  “You come get me when they arrive,” Mike began. “In the meantime, I don’t want nobody so much as sniffing around this thing. Capiche?”

  A black Ford Fusion rolled onto the job site and headed straight for the construction trailer, where foreman Mike Hawthorne leaned against its metal steps. He tossed away his cigarette. “Looks like the cops are here.”

  The inspector, who stood nearby, turned to him. “How you know that’s the cops?”

  Bemused, Mike returned his gaze. “Are you kidding me?” He walked toward the car while the plain-clothes officer stepped out. “Hey, how are ya, Officer?”

  Long legs appeared first from the driver’s side door, then the man raised to full height as he exited. Donning a respectable suit, for a detective’s salary, Terry King returned Mike’s greeting. “It’s Detective. Detective King.” Though his face was scarred with pock marks, his smooth bald head and otherwise handsome features diminished their appearance.

  “Eh, uh, sorry about that, Detective King. I’m the foreman here, Mike Hawthorne.”

  “Mr. Hawthorne. I understand you have something of a situation on your hands.”

  Mike started toward the excavator. “You could say that, sir. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what my boys found.” He peered over his shoulder. “This here is the inspector on our job.”

  “Detective King.”

  “Inspector.”

  They approached the area where the discovery was made and several men remained huddled around the perimeter.

  “I hope none of your people disturbed the scene,” the detective said.

  “No, sir. Not a one. That I can promise you,” Mike replied. “Clear out, boys. Let the detective here have a look-see.”

  King moved in and leaned over the trench. He studied it for a moment before crouching down for a closer look. “And your men dug this up this morning?”

  “Yes, sir. I told them to stop right away so as not to do any more damage, if any was done. I don’t know. I’ll leave that up to you to decide,” Mike said.

  “I’m gonna need a ladder to get in there.”

  “Hey, someone get me a ladder, and hustle!” Mike watched one of his workers run to a nearby truck and return with a six-foot ladder. “Thanks.” He carefully placed it against the wall of the five-foot deep trench. “We were excavating to reach the old sewer connection, when this happened.” He looked at the detective. “You sure you want to go in there?”

  “I don’t have much choice now, do I?”

  “I suppose not.” Mike handed him a hard hat. “Better put this on or we’ll get in all kinds of trouble with OSHA.”

  Detective King placed the hat on his head before descending into the trench, where it appeared fingers protruded from the near frozen earth. As he reached the bottom and stepped off the final rung, King moved closer to the gruesome finding. Again, he crouched down, and with his fingers, gently pulled away mud from around the hand. “Shit.” He retrieved his cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures.

  “Everything all right down there, Detective?” Mike asked. “Is it what we think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a hand, then yes. We’re gonna have to get the ME out here and some people to bring this up.”
br />   “Hey, you think it could be another of ol’ Whitey’s victims?” the inspector asked. “They dug up a bunch of them a few years back.”

  King started up the ladder. “It’s possible. Won’t know till the ME identifies the body. But it wouldn’t come as a surprise, especially around here.”

  “Yeah, you know how many bodies are in and around the Chuck River from back in the day?” Mike asked.

  “More than I’d care to think about.” King brushed off his hands and peered at his mud-covered shoes. “Damn it. I just had these polished. Look, I need to make a few calls. You know we’re going to have to shut you down until this is resolved?”

  “I figured. How long you think?” Mike asked.

  “Can’t say yet. I’ll let you know.” King walked away with his phone at his ear.

  “Son of a bitch.” Mike shook his head. “This is gonna piss off the boss. That’s for damn sure.” Mike waited a few minutes and started toward the detective’s car when it appeared he was off the phone. “Hey, they’re coming today, right? Otherwise, we gotta seal that shit off.”

  “They’re on the way.”

  “You’re not from Boston, are you, Detective?”

  “Why do you say that? My black skin doesn’t scream Boston Irish to you?”

  “No, sir. It’s just that you don’t sound like one of us, a Bostonian. No offense.”

  “None taken.” King swiped his hand at the air. “It isn’t easy being a cop from Philly and coming up here to Boston. Most of these guys like to stick to their own, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure, sure,” Mike replied.

  “Anyway, they’ll get here soon and we’ll figure this out so you can get back to work. I appreciate your cooperation.”

  “No problem at all, Detective. I need to go let my bosses know what’s going on. I expect they’ll want to be in on the action.”

  An ominous haze rolled in at the onset of midday in Allston, only a few miles from Fenway Park. The threat of a downpour forced the assembly of a tent over the area that would soon be deemed a crime scene. Detective King stood under that tent along with Dr. Yang from the Medical Examiner’s office. The workers had all been sent home and only Mike Hawthorne and his boss remained onsite.

  “I’ll bet a dollar to a donut this is another one of Bulger’s victims.” The short stump of a man barely reached the height of Mike’s shoulders and was almost as round as he was tall. But as the VP of the construction company, he wasn’t going to miss out on something like this. “You know they found several of them not too long ago.”

  “It’s been a while, but you never know around here,” King replied. “Dr. Yang, you need anything else or can we get started?”

  “We should get started, if your people are ready.”

  “Okay. You heard the lady.” He looked to a team of officers hanging around just beyond the tent. “Let’s bring ‘er up.”

  Three officers climbed into the trench, which had been widened to accommodate the dig, and with caution, they began to unearth whatever was buried beneath the exposed hand.

  “Even from this distance, it looks like whoever that is has been there a while,” the doctor began. “A long while.”

  “You think there’s something to the Whitey Bulger thing?” King asked her.

  “Most of his victims recovered in the early 2000s had been there for decades. You never can tell in this town what you’ll dig up.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” King replied.

  “How long have you been on the force here in Boston?” she asked.

  “Three years. Transferred from Philly.”

  “You like it here?”

  “Most days. Today’s not one of them.” He peered into the hole as his team hand-excavated the area. “Doesn’t look like there’s much left of whoever is down there. This could be one hell of a cold case.”

  “And it’s my job to identify the remains for you. I’ll do my best,” Yang replied.

  “Detective King?” One of the officers in the trench peered up at him. “You mind coming down here for a sec?”

  King looked to the doctor. “That okay with you?”

  She nodded.

  King stepped carefully onto the ladder and descended into the now much larger hole. “What is it?”

  “We got most of him uncovered.”

  “Him?”

  “Well, I can’t say for certain; just using a general term.”

  “Sure. Go on,” King replied.

  “He or she is too decomposed to bring up in one piece. It’s like what’s left of the flesh is gonna fall right off the bone like some gruesome rack of ribs.”

  “Ah, geez.” He turned his sights up to the doctor. “Hey, Doc, how do you want to handle this? The body’s too decomposed to bring up all together.”

  “They’re going to have to dig beneath it and slide a board under it. We need to keep it intact as best we can. Otherwise, we’ll essentially be destroying evidence.”

  “Right.” King looked down again. “Let’s get us a body board and give it our best shot.” He started back up the ladder again.

  The skies opened up and unleashed a deluge that began to turn the muddy earth to slush.

  One of the men in the trench gazed up. “We need that board now, Detective, or we’re gonna lose this.”

  “Mr. Hawthorne, would you mind giving me a hand?” King started toward the truck where the board waited.

  “You got it. Sooner we get this guy out of the ground and off my site, the better I’ll feel. Gives me the friggin’ creeps.”

  They returned with the board and lowered it down.

  “Careful, boys,” King said. “Doc needs this body intact.”

  “Copy that,” the officer replied. “Let’s load it up, fellas.”

  The three men carefully shifted the rotting corpse in order to slide the board beneath it, then shifted it in the opposite direction. With gloved hands and a delicate touch, they maneuvered it onto the board without further damage.

  “We need the ropes!”

  The detective and jobsite foreman, Mike Hawthorne, lowered the ropes. Another of the officers climbed out to help pull it up.

  “On the count of three,” King said. “One, two, three. Pull! Okay. Good. And again, on three. One, two, three. Pull!”

  It took several more minutes before the body appeared at the top.

  “Set it down over here.” The doctor positioned herself at the nearby gurney. “Keep that tarp over the body!”

  The rain still fell, though it had eased.

  “That’s it. Perfect. Thank you,” The doctor hovered over the exhumed remains with an umbrella overhead. “Let’s get her loaded into the truck,” she said to her team.

  “Her?” King asked.

  “Yes. Definitely female.”

  “Could she still be a mob victim?”

  “I’m afraid that’s a question you will have to answer.” She waited until the body was on the truck and started back to her vehicle. “You want to come down to my office and we’ll get started ASAP?”

  “Absolutely.” King turned to the foreman. “This site is to remain closed until further notice.”

  “Wait. No. We gotta keep going, Detective. Look, you got your body. We need to get back to work. Come on, man,” Mike pleaded.

  “Not until I can get CSI out here to have a look around.” He peered up at the sky. “We’ll have to wait for the rain to stop. I need to keep this site clear. You understand?”

  “Yeah. I understand. I understand I got a big friggin’ problem on my hands that my bosses up there in that trailer ain’t gonna like.”

  King had already begun to walk away. “You tell them to contact me.”

  2

  A small hitch in Kate’s stride was all that remained of the gunshot wound to her thigh, a parting gift from the now-deceased Deputy Erik Slocum from the small town of Crown Pointe, Kentucky. She carried on through the halls of Quantico and toward her office.