Page 83 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“Somebody drove up in an old ambulance. Looked like something right out of the movies.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am. Then there was the service. It was a simple outdoor thing, no church, no Reverend Whitcomb officiating, no nothing, a handful of people at most on hand. Mighty strange if you ask me for a little baby girl that’s died.”

“Now you know why. But explain to me how they got the two adult bodies in there when you weren’t looking.”

“I don’t supervise every damn funeral,” Jasper snapped. “Ever heard of giving the family their privacy? But I’ve been thinking some on that very thing since you dug up those bodies. I think Jim and that other guy with the family must’ve slipped the gravediggers extra cash to stand by until dark. I don’t remember actually seeing the casket lowered into the ground, though. I’m sure of that.”

“What guy? If I showed you a photo of someone we think might’ve been involved, would you be able to recognize him?”

“Yeah. I think I could.”

Brent slid two photos of Dodge Nichols—one with a beard and one without—both circulated by the FBI in 2005 across the desk. “Is that him?”

Jasper studied the pictures, rubbed his chin, and then said, “That’s the guy without the beard.”

“Who were the gravediggers? Where would I find those names in the logbook?”

Jasper gave him an exasperated look. “Hand over that thing and I’ll show you. Every gravedigger we ever used is listed in the back with the days they worked.”

Brent thumbed through the logbook until he reached the back, then studied the year 1999. “You used six gravediggers that year. But only two in December—Roberto and Luis Diaz. Brothers?”

“No, I remember them. Father and son. Those were the two men killed out by the Taggert farm in that accident—the hit and run—nobody ever found out who did it.”

Brent looked perplexed and turned to the desk computer where he typed in the names. The results came back within minutes. “Interesting. This accident happened on January 10th, 2000, barely a month after the fake burial.”

Colt Del Rio knocked on Brent’s office door. “Sorry to interrupt, but we turned up something you should hear.”

Brent bobbed his head toward Jasper. “Thanks for coming in. You can go now. But I’m holding onto the logbooks for 1999 and 2000. I’ll get them back to you after we make copies.”

“Sure. So, I’m not in any trouble?”

“No. But if anything like this happens in the future, you pick up the phone and call me directly. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jasper said, giving the police chief a salute before hurrying past Colt.

With Jasper out of earshot, Brent asked him, “What did you find?”

Colt held up his phone. “I took a statement from the former police chief confirming Rowan and Daniel’s information. He backed up what other witnesses stated. There was definitely a confrontation between the older couple and a younger man and woman. The older couple forced the younger couple outside.”

“I need to hear his verification.”

Colt hit play on his phone. An older man’s voice, hesitant and faltering at times, filled the room in a gravelly tone that made it sound like the former police chief was trying to make excuses. But in the end, he admitted to the scene he had witnessed firsthand.

“You wanted verification,” Colt added as the recording ended.

“I did. Great work. Do me a favor though. I need an evidence bag and file pulled from county records about a hit and run that occurred in January 2000.” He scribbled down the details on a yellow notepad before ripping off the page. “Roberto and Luis Diaz were working the roadside fruit stand at the end of the road leading to Taggert Farms when a car veered off the highway and struck both of them, killing father and son. I want photos of the crime scene and all the notes in the file.”

Colt frowned. “I thought we were working on IDing the couple and pinning their murders on Jim and Lynette.”

“We are. I think the hit and run might be related,” Brent muttered, already adding the request into the computer system. “Just get me the files and plan to work late tonight.”

“You got it.”

Eastlyn stepped into Brent’s office from the hallway, holding up several small evidence bags. “You wanted to know if Muriel’s team found jewelry. They did. Mostly cheap costume stuff like earrings and rings with flowers on them, but they did uncover a very nice woman’s necklace in sterling silver and two gold wedding bands. Not expensive stuff, mind you, but good enough that the metal survived all that time in the ground.”

“Any markings on the gold bands or necklace that could be traced back to a manufacturer? If the jewelry is distinctive enough, it might be something a relative would recognize that belonged to our victims.”

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