The Forgotten

  “Then, pizza you shall have, if I have to use my badge to force Papa Giuseppe to stay open past closing,” Meg said with a grin.

  Brett realized they weren’t just feeling hungry, they were feeling exhilarated, because at last something seemed to be going their way.

  They needed Pierre. Needed him badly. They needed him to identify “Boss Man,” and they needed him to find out where his brother’s body had supposedly been buried, because that could link them to Boss Man. Police and municipal records should let them know where Antoine had ended up after his second death, though that was undoubtedly the city’s potter’s field.

  Antoine’s body might be the missing piece Phil Kinny needed to solve the puzzle of dead men walking.

  If nothing else, Pierre could give them a good description of Boss Man, who might be working for the man at the top or might himself be the puppet master who managed to kill and kill again with complete impunity.

  They ordered pizza, and Matt and Diego drove to the restaurant to pick it up. Diego wolfed down half a pie and then told them that he had to call it quits for the night. “Agent Cody may not need sleep, but I sure as hell do,” he teased.

  After he left, Meg begged forgiveness and said that she was going up to bed, because she was exhausted, too. Matt waited, saying that he would lock up and see that the alarms were set once Brett went home.

  Lara followed Brett to the door, where he paused and looked down at her. “Thank you,” he said. “We wouldn’t have gotten this break in the case without your help.”

  She smiled and stepped closer to him. He wanted to touch her, not to talk anymore. Wanted to touch her face. Pull her closer still. Wanted to kiss her. He focused on her mouth.

  “You know, it’s really late. I can just make up the sofa,” she said, breaking the spell.

  Matt was tossing out the paper plates, ready to follow Brett out and lock the gate when he left.

  Brett felt ridiculously young and awkward, which was foolish. He’d never been the love-’em-and-leave-’em type, but he’d had relationships over the years, a few of them serious, one he’d thought was the real thing, but most of his dealings with women had been pretty casual. With Lara, though, he could already tell that there was something different.

  “No, but thanks,” he said softly. “I really need to go home. Clean suit for tomorrow and all that.”

  She lowered her head for a few seconds and then looked back up at him, smiling. “Too bad. I feel really safe when you’re around. I mean, I feel safe with Meg and Matt, too. I just mean, if you ever want to stay here...you’d be welcome.”

  “Thanks. Before this is over, I may take you up on that.” Even as he spoke, he wondered if she’d meant her words the way they’d sounded. The way he hoped she’d meant them.

  She was even closer to him now. He wanted to forget talking, forget that other people were in the house. He wanted to escape the case by pulling her close, holding her, feeling her heart beat, warming himself at that fire within her...

  Okay, and also by ripping their clothes off and...

  “Gotta get going,” he said.

  She stood on tiptoe, her body touching his, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “For trusting me, working with me, or letting me work with you, really. Helping.”

  Temptation almost overwhelmed him. He stepped back, burning.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and called out in a voice that was far too husky, “Hey, Matt, can you come out and lock up the gate?”

  He turned and hurried to his car. He was careful driving home, watching to be certain that he wasn’t being followed.

  He was just as cautious when he reached his house.

  But he had no nocturnal visitors.

  As he lay awake, trying to focus on the case and not on the feel of Lara Ainsworth Mayhew against him, he wondered why no one had come after them.

  Was it because whoever was pulling the strings was smart enough to stay away from the FBI to avoid having the entire Bureau, plus local law enforcement, come after him, quite likely ignoring a few laws along the way? Or were they still so far from figuring it all out that the head of the web wasn’t even worried about being found out?

  Or maybe the head honcho wasn’t aware yet that they had found Pierre and were getting closer to cracking this case wide-open.

  Maybe they should all stay together, turn wherever they chose to set up camp into a real stronghold.

  Of course, he could just be making all that up to rationalize his desire to stay as close to her as he could.

  Because he wanted to sleep with Lara Mayhew.

  No.

  He would sleep with Lara Mayhew. And he was pretty sure she knew that, as well.

  He was smiling when he fell asleep.

  11

  Adrianna poked her head into Lara’s office. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” Lara echoed, looking up from her computer.

  “Is your friend still hanging around?”

  “Meg? Yes. Is there a problem?”

  Adrianna smiled. “No. In fact it’s kind of nice to know that there’s an armed agent on the premises. But that’s not why I’m here. A two-spot opening for an eleven o’clock dolphin swim just opened up. You know we frown on employees jumping in without making prior arrangements, but I checked with Grady, and he said I was welcome to ask you and Meg to take the slot.”

  “That sounds great. I know I’d love it, and I’m sure Meg would, too. She went downstairs to make coffee. I’m surprised you didn’t see her.”

  “I didn’t even pop my head in the kitchen. Anyway, just give me a buzz on the walkie-talkie.”

  “I will.”

  After Adrianna left, Lara drummed her fingers on her desk, surprised that she’d actually accomplished quite a bit so far that morning. Everyone was still talking about zombies and the grisly discoveries Cocoa had made in the lagoon. And even the mere thought of the lagoon made her think about Brett Cody. Made her think about what a difference time and getting to know someone could make. By any rational standard she didn’t know him that well, and yet she felt as if she did. She’d thought he was nothing but a rigid robot, good to look at, but as personable as a rock.

  And now...

  And now she’d nearly asked him to crawl into bed with her. She blushed at the thought of what she’d said last night.

  And how he had simply walked away.

  She gave herself a mental shake as she heard footsteps coming her way. Meg entered the office with two cups of coffee, and Lara passed on Adrianna’s offer.

  “Of course I’d love to swim with the dolphins.”

  “I knew you would,” Lara said, and reached into her drawer for her walkie-talkie.

  She let Adrianna know that they would be down as soon as they changed. Digging through her locker, she found an extra bathing suit for Meg, then suggested she leave her gun and ID there. Meg was hesitant about that, though, so Lara told her that there were computer-combination lockers down by the water, which seemed to satisfy her.

  “Have you ever done this before?” Lara asked.

  Meg shook her head. “No. I’m so excited, I feel like a little kid!”

  Adrianna never took more than six people into the water with the dolphins at a time, and the other four were already there when Lara and Meg got down to the water. They were joining a family for the swim, Mr. and Mrs. Latrobe from Lansing, Michigan, and their two teenage daughters. Cocoa was in the side lagoon with Destiny, an older dolphin who had been at Sea Life for years. The girls were obviously in awe.

  “First thing we’ve done this whole vacation where they’ve really been excited,” Mrs. Latrobe told Lara and Meg as they gathered on the platform. “Dolphins just make people happy, I guess.”

  Lara agreed.

>   The encounter began with a speech that Lara never tired of hearing. Adrianna talked about the founding of the facility and its goals, as well as the dolphins themselves. When it was time to get in the water, Lara realized that as wonderful as it was, she had been spoiled by her session with Rick when she’d had Cocoa’s total attention.

  Lara was certain that Cocoa turned on the extra charm for her, but she knew the dolphin was also the ultimate performer. She shook hands—in her case, a flipper—danced and towed their entire group. Alongside Destiny, she also spoke and retrieved toys, delighting the watching crowd. The Latrobe family all had pictures taken of the dolphins giving them kisses.

  The Latrobes were talking excitedly as they left, and Meg looked to be in total awe.

  As the others walked away, Lara heard Adrianna using her whistle and calling for Cocoa. She turned to see what was happening and realized that Cocoa had done one of her fabulous flips—right over the underwater fence and out into the bay.

  She didn’t seem to be trying to go anywhere. She simply kept doing her tail dance for them.

  “What is she doing?” Lara asked, walking over to join Adrianna.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her or any of the other dolphins act like this.”

  Seeing Lara, Cocoa began to squeal loudly.

  “Cocoa!” Lara called. “Cocoa, come on.”

  Adrianna dived into the water, swam over to the fence and called to Cocoa from there. She turned back to Lara when the dolphin continued to ignore her. “Come in, will you? Maybe you can work your magic.”

  Lara dived in and swam to Adrianna’s side. The trainer seemed puzzled and said, “Talk to her. Try to get her back in.”

  Lara did her best. She spoke softly, she urged, she pleaded.

  Cocoa squealed back at her, but she didn’t come back in.

  “Try moving away,” Adrianna said at last.

  “All right, Cocoa. I’ve got to go,” Lara said, swimming away.

  At last the dolphin responded, making a huge leap and sending crystal droplets of water flying everywhere.

  She raced past under the surface and emerged in front of Lara, who gave her a fin rub and thanked her. When they returned to the dock, Adrianna followed and gave Lara several fish to feed her, and then a few to feed Destiny, who came over to see what was going on.

  “Okay, I have to leave now,” Lara said as she gave Cocoa a last stroke and a last fish. Cocoa still seemed on edge, and she squealed and did another fluke walk. “I’ll come back soon,” Lara promised.

  “I hope she’ll be all right,” Adrianna said. “I have to tell Rick about this.”

  “If I can help, let me know,” Lara said.

  “You know we will,” Adrianna said.

  Lara went to join Meg by the lockers at that point. As they headed back to the office and the showers, Meg said, “I was watching, and I’m sure as hell no expert, but it looked to me as though that dolphin wanted you to follow her.”

  “Maybe she wants another outing. I think she had fun the day we went out to look for— The day we went out with the Coast Guard. And found Miguel’s head,” she added. Not saying it didn’t change what happened.

  “Can’t she jump that fence any time she wants to? Can’t any of them?” Meg asked. “If they want to go exploring, I mean.”

  Lara stopped and looked at Meg. She knew what her friend was thinking. “You think that whoever made a zombie out of Randy Nicholson has really killed him now, and cut him up and dumped him in the bay.”

  “I think it’s quite possible,” Meg said. “I’ll mention it to Matt. Or to Brett and Diego, since they’re the leads on this. I’m just used to going to Matt first, since I’m working with him.”

  Lara smiled. “And living with him.”

  Meg smiled back. “Trust me, it’s pretty great living and working together. Not everyone could, but for us, it works.” She was quiet for a moment. “He’s still a little in awe of us, though.”

  “Matt? Why?”

  “The way our minds work in sync,” Meg said. “Even at a distance. When you were kidnapped and needed my help, I knew it. Not many people have that kind of ability.”

  Lara laughed. “I think more people believe in ESP than in ghosts, but maybe all that kind of stuff is related somehow. Who knows?”

  Meg grew serious. “Not me, but I do know that when it comes to this case, someone knows what he’s doing, playing with the greatest computer ever, the human brain.” She paused for a moment. “That’s what the Krewe does, in a way. We push the boundaries, too, looking past this world and into the next, so to speak, even seeking help from the dead. It’s a little less extreme to think that a dolphin might help, right?”

  Lara looked at her friend and nodded. “Can you imagine the headline? ‘Dolphin Saves Miami from Zombie Attacks.’”

  “Maybe it’s not so far-fetched,” Meg told her. “Speaking of which, I wonder how the guys are doing on finding Antoine Deveau’s body.”

  * * *

  Brett loved computers. You could find almost anything somewhere on the internet, and the Bureau had hundreds of employees nationwide who were the most talented geeks in the world. If the information had been recorded, the Bureau’s geeks could find it.

  And in this case, all they had to do was hunt down the day the body had been found, find the autopsy report and then look up where the body had been buried.

  The geeks in the Krewe’s Virginia office were handling the search. Once Adam Harrison had been called in to help get the ball rolling on Pierre’s application for legal residency for his family and entrance into the Witness Protection Program, he’d put all his resources at their disposal, geeks included. That left Brett, Diego and Matt to work with Pierre himself while his family and friends remained in the safe house, heavily guarded.

  Pierre had already worked with a sketch artist. The problem was that Boss Man seemed to have different color eyes each time Pierre saw him. Mostly he had a mustache and a beard, but not always, and they weren’t always shaved in the same style. He usually wore glasses, too, but not always the same frames.

  Even so, staring at the sketch, Brett told Diego and Matt that the drawing resembled the man who had accompanied Anthony Barillo to his house.

  “We can bring him in,” Diego offered.

  Brett shook his head. The resemblance could just as easily be a coincidence. “I can’t say it was him with Barillo. And if we bring him in before we’re sure, before we have evidence, we could blow the whole case.”

  “We can keep him in mind, at least, in case we find some hard evidence, then move on him,” Diego said. “Unfortunately, an empty grave isn’t evidence.”

  “Let’s start by hoping the records will direct us to the right potter’s grave,” Brett said.

  “It’s a plan,” Matt agreed. “And if not, we’ll keep digging till we find the right one.”

  Brett grinned; he liked the man. He was always willing to go the extra mile.

  Brett knew they wouldn’t find Antoine in the grave where Pierre had seen him buried, but the killer might be “storing” other bodies there, and there was always the possibility of catching him in the act.

  They visited every cemetery within an hour’s drive of Pierre’s apartment, just in case he’d been mistaken about the length of the drive, but he didn’t recognize any of them. Frustrated, Brett went online himself and tried historical cemeteries, which brought up several they had already seen but also some new possibilities. On the third page of listings he found a blog dedicated to an old cemetery down in Florida City, close to the Everglades and the gateway to the Florida Keys.

  It was a small place, mostly reclaimed by nature, just on the edge of the national park. The road to it clearly hadn’t been repaved in years. But when Brett started driving down it, Pierre suddenly perked u
p.

  “Mais oui!” he cried. “I remember this—bouncing before we reached the graveyard.”

  The gravestones were scattered, some still standing, others tipped over, even broken. A few were military issue from World War I, a few more from World War II, and they even found a small stone marker that showed the deceased had fought in the Civil War.

  “I hadn’t realized there were that many people living around here that long ago,” Matt said.

  “There was a military base on the Miami River years before anything approaching a city existed down here,” Brett explained. “They were down here fighting the Seminole wars, which raged for years and years. Sherman got his start down here. Zachary Taylor fought down here, too. Miami itself was incorporated in 1896.”

  Matt laughed. “I doubt this place is in Miami.”

  “No, but it is in Miami-Dade County,” Brett said, looking around. They were surrounded by high grasses and, except for the little hummock that held the cemetery, the land here was marsh. The Everglades themselves were much the same. The “river of grass” was a mix of marsh and river and hummock, and it was often difficult to know where one ended and another began. It was much the same here, but on a smaller scale, a place being overtaken by nature, the heat of the day broken by a cool breeze moving through. He could hear the forlorn calls of different birds. To the east, buzzards were circling, and he imagined that they had probably homed in on roadkill somewhere on US1.

  Pierre wasn’t paying any attention to the agents. He was moving through the thickly overgrown gravestones, head down, searching.

  Suddenly he stopped dead. Brett tensed, nearly drawing his Glock. Then he realized that Pierre had stopped because an adolescent alligator was sunning himself on a large concrete-slab marker.

  “Leave him alone,” Brett said. “He’ll leave you alone.”

  Pierre nodded and pointed. “There. I remember that tree. They buried my brother beneath it.”

  Diego groaned suddenly, looking at Brett. “I’m digging, right?”

  “I’m not even sure who we call to get the proper permits to work here,” Brett said. He knew, of course, that he should call someone. He was talking about digging up a graveyard after all.