Page 49 of Broken Promises
“Her phone was still at the office and her car was still in the lot as of lunchtime. I’ll check in again in a few hours, but she’s fine,” he remarked, and I exhaled a little of the stress I was carrying. “See if they took a blood sample from the body, so we can compare it to Hannah.”
We’d been waiting for something, anything, to put us on the right track, and this was the first opening we’d had in months. Usually, we had more avenues to locate people, but whoever was behind the Syndicate’s rebirth was doing a tremendous job of hiding their identity.
“I’m going to get whatever they have, and hopefully, this gives us the break we need,” I reasoned and checked the GPS to see how long until I arrived. “I’m going to run, but call me if anything comes up.”
“No problem. We’ll talk soon,” James replied before hanging up.
I had less than ten minutes until I got there, and looking around the sad little town, I wondered what would have brought Kelly out here to the middle of nowhere. I didn’t think the town even had a stoplight, so how would someone who was convinced she was going to have a major come-up wind up here?
I tried to not think about the amazing evening Hannah and I had last night as I traversed the crappy roads though what could only be described as ‘downtown’. There was a courthouse in the center of a town square, and small local businesses lining the four streets surrounding the courthouse. The coroner’s office was two blocks behind the courthouse, and as I parked the car against the curb, I exhaled deeply.
Getting out, I straightened my suit jacket and grabbed the leather briefcase I’d placed all the documents we had regarding Kelly in. A few people turned to look at me as I walked up to the glass door of the building and pressed the button to announce someone was waiting. A minute later, an older woman with glasses opened the door, and I saw her briefly run her eyes down my body before she cleared her throat.
“Can I help you?” she inquired as she patted her hair and stood a little straighter.
I’d flirt if it got me the information I needed, but it would all be a lie. No one compared to Hannah, and obviously, I was the first stranger in town in a while.
“My name is Rhys Weston, and I’m here to see Marcus Smith.”
“Oh, Mr. Weston, we’ve been expecting you since your associate called this morning.” She stepped to the side. “Please come in.”
I stepped into the office and was instantly cooler from the outside heat. Summer was almost over, but the humidity wasstill high in Texas. I looked down at the woman and smiled before asking, “Which way do I go?”
“Follow me,” she said and turned to walk down a narrow hallway.
Her hips swayed, and when she glanced back at me, I stopped my eyes from rolling as I offered her another smile. She turned back around and walked to the door at the end of the hall. Knocking, she waited for someone to respond before she entered.
I stepped in behind her as an older man with gray hair lifted his eyes to me and looked at the woman. “Thank you, Ann.”
She glanced at me as she walked past, and I winked at her. Her face flushed as she walked out, and I turned my attention to the coroner.
“I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, but we just received word. Would it be okay if I sit?” I inquired, and he gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. Opening my briefcase, I pulled out the thick file we had on Kelly and placed it on my lap before I spoke again. “As I’m sure my associate filled you in on this morning, I work for a law firm in Atlanta, and we’ve been looking for Kelly Johnson for almost six months to inform her of her mother’s passing. This was the first lead we’ve gotten, so I’m grateful for your assistance.”
“I’m happy someone is here to claim her. She’s been sitting in that urn for close to a year,” he replied, pointing to a shelf on the far wall that had two rows of urns.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Do you have a picture of Ms. Johnson, or did you take any blood for sampling? I’d like to run a DNA test to verify her relation to the decedent.”
He opened a file in front of him and pulled out a photo but turned it upside down on his desk before speaking. “I want you to know she was hurt pretty badly, and by the time she was discovered, she was already gone.”
“What did you rule as the cause of death?”
“Brain hemorrhage and liver laceration, secondary to an extremely brutal beating,” he explained, casting his eyes down before sliding the upside-down photo across the desk.
When I turned it over, I was utterly shocked by the amount of damage to her body. Her face was basically pulp, with a ruptured eye and broken nose and cheekbones. There were cylindrical bruises across most of her body, and from the picture, I could tell one side of her head was basically missing.
“Where was she discovered?” I asked before taking a picture of the photo with my phone and sliding the original back to him.
“A farmer working his back field found her on one of his equipment roads. At first, he thought it was a wild animal attack. We have wolves, bears, and a few coyotes that’ll attack an injured animal if they’re hungry enough, but I didn’t find any evidence of animal bites. I declared her death a homicide, and since we don’t have long-term cold storage, we cremated her.”
“Then how did you identify her?” I asked, and he opened the file and passed it to me.
I began to read as he spoke. “The same farmer found her purse a few months later when he was back working on that field, so we had to assume it belonged to the woman he found.” He sat back and exhaled as he admitted, “Honestly, we can’t be sure that is her due to the injuries she suffered. But how else would a purse for a woman with basically the same features be out there if it didn’t belong to her?”
“I agree with your assessment, but if it’s okay, I’d like to take custody of her labs, so I can run them against her familial DNA and, hopefully, put her to rest,” I reasoned, trying to smooth the wheels so he’d give me what I needed.
He opened a drawer, pulled out a small Styrofoam box, and handed it to me. “There’s enough dry ice inside to keep the samples viable until you get back to Atlanta.” Standing, hewalked to the shelf and pulled down one of the urns before walking to me. “And if your tests prove she’s not who we believe she is, would you be willing to return her to me so I can find her a nice place to rest?”
“How about I make sure she gets a burial one way or the other? I know you have limited funds and I’d like to help.”
