Surely, the place where she’d been buried had to have some significance, right? And now that they knew there weren’t any clear answers to be had anywhere else, they were going to have to do the very same thing that had been done to recover Madeline Young’s body.

  They were going to have to do some digging.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When they arrived back at the worksite, they found it so empty that Rachel wondered if a decision had been made to shut the site down again. But as they got out and walked back onto the churned-up ground, she saw the foreman they’d seen earlier—the short man that had been speaking to the chief of police during their first visit. He was leaning against a forklift and speaking into a cellphone. Two workers milled around behind him; one was loading old sections of boards into the back of a pickup truck while the other was taking measurements of a particular plot of land.

  Rachel and Jack made their way over to the man. Seeing them come, he visibly began to hurry his conversation along. By the time they reached the forklift, he’d already ended the call and was pocketing his phone.

  “Are you the foreman?” Jack asked.

  “I am,” he said. “Michael Hutchinson. You’re the agents that were here earlier, yeah?”

  “That’s right,” Rachel said. “We’d like to know everything you can tell us about the construction job going on here.”

  “Well, it was planned late last year. The land was purchased by O’Neill and Sons Properties and they’re putting up middle-tier condos. I believe it’ll be their fifth condominium complex in Alexandria once it’s up.”

  “Can you tell us how much time elapsed between your company coming in and clearing off the site to the discovery of the body?”

  Hutchinson gave it some thought before finally answering, “I’d say four weeks. There was a change in the plumbing blueprints that needed to get sorted out and then the folks at O’Neill told us to wait a bit.”

  “Did you and your crew stay away from the sire during that time?”

  “Not entirely. I mean, after all, I’ve got a lot of manpower and money tied up in this place. While we were asked to stand down, I came by about three or four times a week just to make sure everything was still as it should be. It rained twice during that time, and I had guys come out here just to make sure there weren’t floods along the bases or anything like that.”

  “While you’re sort of in a holding pattern right now, just now getting the okay to start up again, where are most of your workers?” Jack asked. “I assume they don’t like being told they won’t be getting a paycheck for a few days because of this case.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve got most of them over near the hospital. There’s a job I just closed on last week, putting up the foundation for the expansion of one of the hospital wings.” He chuckled and then, rather proudly, said: “I try to make it so that my guys always have work to do. It’s a small crew when compared to larger companies, but all of my guys are happy to do whatever work I have for them.”

  “And this hospital addition…something like that comes right from the state, right?”

  “The county. It’s set up like a bid process.”

  “So O’Neill and Sons aren’t at all involved in that?”

  “No, not at all.” He gave her a perplexed look for a moment but then seemed to understand why she might ask such a thing. “Oh, you’re looking for a link, huh? Sorry to disappoint you there. But…I’ve got three guys over there right now. I can make a call and have them sort of dig a bit deeper…maybe intentionally look for something that might be buried?”

  Hutchinson seemed eager to help but Rachel wasn’t so sure about putting him to the task of going around each construction site as if he were digging for treasure. On the other hand, she wondered if there might be something there.

  “How long ago was that plot leveled out and prepared for construction?” she asked.

  “It’s been about five days, I’d say. Construction from my end won’t start for another week or so.”

  “You know…if you’ve got no qualms about these men being on your dime while they do it, maybe you should have them just keep an extra eye out. Don’t have them digging holes everywhere if it’s not necessary, but just be a bit more vigilant than normal.”

  “I can do that,” Hutchinson said happily.

  Jack sighed and looked at Hutchinson as if trying to telepathically convey sympathy.

  “I hope you understand that we have to ask this,” he said. “But do you trust all of your men? This case…what was found here on this site…do you think any of your men could have been responsible?”

  “No way at all,” Hutchinson said right away. “You know, the police asked me the very same thing. It got me to thinking, you know. And I thought hard about it. But I trust every single one of my men. They all have clean records, and most of them are family men, you know? Clean, respectable, stand-up guys. Sure, there are a few that are still a little wild, on the young side. But I should probably tell you that I did have a guy that quit recently. Out of nowhere, for no reason at all, the man just quit.”

  “Had you started on this project yet when he quit?” Rachel asked. For all of his eagerness to help, she didn’t think Hutchinson understood how potentially huge this little tidbit of information could be.

  “Yeah, by about three days. He ran the excavator and helped lay out some of the trenches.”

  “How long did he work for you before he quit?”

  “Oh, I’d say four months or so. It was a damn shame to see him go, too. He had a knack for thinking outside the box…a way of looking at blueprints that I really wish I had.”

  “Had he ever caused any sort of trouble?”

  “Nope. Not a bit. Though, for a man of his caliber to just up and quit a job he seemed to really like, it did make me think he might have some sort of secret issues he was wrestling with.”

  “What’s this man’s name?” Jack asked.

  “Harry Bentley.”

  “I don’t suppose you know where he lives, do you?”

  “I do, in fact. If you give me a second, I can grab the address from my accounting software.” He dug out of his pocket, opened an app, and started scrolling around. “But listen,” he said as he looked for the address. “Yeah. I know it seems sketchy and all, but I don’t think he’d be the type to do this sort of thing, either.”

  But Rachel could hear the slight uncertainty in his voice—uncertainty born out of the disappointment of having Harry Bentley quit on him. Hutchinson gave them the address and Rachel watched as Jack typed it into the maps app on his phone.

  “Thanks for your help,” Rachel said, giving Hutchinson a nod to indicate that they’d be on their way now. “Please…if you think of anything else or your men find something, let the chief of police know and he’ll get in touch with us.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. Rachel thought he sounded hopeful, maybe thinking that now that the feds were here and seemed to be rolling along with the case, he’d be able to get back to work and not have to worry about moving around in the shadow of what had been found on one of his worksites.

  She wished the same for him. Because honestly, it would start with her and Jack wrapping up this case quickly. And with every minute that passed, she felt that finishing up this case in record time might be a necessity for a number of reasons.

  And for a new one as well.

  Namely, because as they got back into the car to head to the residence of Harry Bentley, a dull and very familiar ache started to pound at the base of Rachel’s skull.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rachel called one of her bureau contacts on the way to the address, wanting to get a snapshot of Harry Bentley. Based on the overview she got back just six minutes later, she found that Bentley had a clean record. There were a few dings on his IRS forms from a few years back when he’d tried working for himself, but that was it. In that regard, Hutchinson had been right on the money about his workers being stand-up men.

  Still, both Rachel and Jack had been at their jobs long enough to know that coincidences were rarely legitimate. And for a man to quit a decent paying job out of nowhere right around the same time it was believed the body of Madeline Young had been buried on that worksite…well, it was just too suspicious to ignore.

  It was 4:07 when Jack parked in front of Harry Bentley’s house. It was located in a quiet suburb just off the highway—not a bad neighborhood at all but far from what would be considered upper class. There was a new Toyota Tundra parked in the driveway, though. Rachel took note of this as she and Jack made their way up the front porch stairs.

  Jack knocked on the door without much enthusiasm. If the man had quit his job, chances were he’d already had another one lined up or would be busy pounding the pavement trying to find another one. They both knew there was a good chance Bentley wasn’t home. But Rachel found herself surprised when the door was answered about ten seconds later. They were greeted by a man that might have been thirty or so. His head was shaved, and he had a long beard that came down to his chest. He had the sort of build that made it hard to tell at first glance if he was muscular or overweight. The baggy black t-shirt he wore also made this hard to judge.

  “Yeah?” he asked, giving them a menacing stare. “Who’re you?”

  Jack showed his badge with a bit of aggression, never taking his eyes from the man. “We’re Special Agents Rivers and Gift, with the FBI. Would you happen to be Harry Bentley?”

  “Yeah, I am.” But the moment it was out of his mouth, it looked as if he regretted saying anything. He recovered quickly, though, and said, “Can I help you with something?”

  “Well, we’re working a case that took us out to a worksite of your former employer,” Rachel said. “You were working for Michael Hutchinson until quite recently, right?”

  “Yeah, I was.” Rachel saw the curiosity in his eyes, the skepticism.

  “We really just need to ask you a few questions about what it was like to work for him,” Rachel said, the ruse coming to her just as quickly as she spoke it.

  Apparently, it worked; she could see the skepticism drop from his face. He hesitantly stepped to the side and let them into his house. But even then, as they passed through the doorway, she could see a sort of tension in the man’s body. His knees were locked, and he was gripping the doorknob tightly.

  The front door led into a very small foyer that split off into a small living room and a kitchen that looped around in an L-shape. Bentley led them into the living room and gave a quick look around, gesturing to the couch. It was the only seat in the place, but the living room still had a comfortable feel to it. It was tidy and minimally decorated. Rachel did detect the faint smell of body odor, though—as if Bentley had been sweating quite a bit recently.

  Jack, God bless him, had apparently picked up on her approach. He sat down on the couch without being invited to do so and said, “So, we have an issue out at one of the worksites. We can’t tell you all the details, but just know that your former employer could be in a bit of a bind. So I guess we’ll ask with the reasons you had for quitting. He made it sound like it was sort of out of the blue.”

  “Yeah, I guess it was,” Bentley said. He’d elected not to sit. He was standing at the front of the room with his hands in his pockets. Rachel noted that his hands were fidgeting inside his pockets—a sure sign of nerves.

  “So, why did you leave?”

  “I just got tired of it, you know? Same old thing day after day. It’s good work, but it’s loud and gets very repetitive.”

  “Did you find employment somewhere else afterwards?” Rachel asked.

  She was pretty sure she caught a nervous little twitch before he answered. But, like her own white lie to get him to talk, he seemed quick with his own little lies. “No, not right away. mean, I’m working as a Lyft driver right now while I’m looking for something else.”

  “How about the other guys you worked with?” Jack asked. “Did you ever have any issues with them?”

  “Nope. They were a good group of guys. I just…I got bored with the work.”

  “Fair enough,” Rachel said. She was making sure to go back and forth—one question from her, then one from Jack—to sort of disorient Bentley. She could tell he was bothered by something but doing his absolute best to play it off. Also, there was something about his expression and overall presence that made her think he might be high…or, at the very least, coming down off of one. She figured if they could keep nailing him with questions in such a way, it might cause him to stumble and reveal something worthwhile. “Tell us about Hutchinson. This is very important. Was there something you had against him? Or maybe something he had against you?”

  “No, he…he, uh…”

  “It’s okay,” Jack said. “Anything you have to say won’t leave this room. Not unless there are charges eventually pressed.”

  “Charges?”

  “Yes, as we said, we’re working a case,” Rachel said. “And it looks like it might point to some of the men you worked with...maybe a site you were working on. We just need to get as much information as we can.”

  Bentley nodded and started to pace a bit. As he made his way to the other side of the room, he gave them an almost childish look of alarm. “Sorry,” he said. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  He didn’t wait for any sort of response before leaving the living room and walking to the right, where a small hallway led to a few other rooms. He hurried down the hall and entered the first door on the right, closing it behind him. When he was gone, Jack looked over to her with a mixture of humor and acknowledgement.

  “He seems stoned, right?” he said.

  “I thought so, too. He’s also very nervous.”

  “Yeah, something’s not jiving here. I wonder if I should head outside and find that bathroom window…make sure he’s not trying to make a run for it.”

  “Well, for all we know, he didn’t even go into the bathroom. He may have gone into a bedroom for a gun. If he’s stoned, he might also be paranoid.” As she said this and tried to figure out the next best approach, she felt that dull throbbing ache in her head. Compared to some of the pains she’d experienced there while dealing with the tumor, it was miniscule. But she knew better than to just ignore it. She noted it and acknowledged it—but still didn’t think it was worth mentioning to Jack. Not yet.

  “Let’s see, then,” she said, looking past the irritating pain.

  She got to her feet and quietly made her way across the room, following in Harry Bentley’s footsteps. She made her way to the hallway, her feet light and measured. When she came to the room Bentley had gone in, she could easily hear the noise of motion and movement on the other side. Acting quickly, she ventured further down the hallway, making sure she continued to be as quiet as she could.

  She checked the next room and found a small office of sorts, currently cluttered with a few boxes. A single, twin-sized mattress was propped up against the wall. She then tried the third and final room along the hallway, the door partially closed. She pushed it open and found the bathroom—a room Harry Bentley claimed to be visiting but was not currently occupying.

  Rachel looked back down the hallway and saw that Jack had also gotten to his feet. He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, giving her an inquisitive look. She motioned for him to go out the front door, giving a nod and hoping he would take it to mean that their hunch was right—that Bentley was definitely up to something.

  Jack was just as keen as ever, instantly turning and heading for the front door. Rachel, meanwhile, turned back to the closed door—presumably a bedroom. She placed her hand on her Glock, but left it holstered. She leaned in a bit, listening for more sounds from inside, but heard nothing.

  “Mr. Bentley?”

  There was no answer. She raised her hand to knock but before she had the chance, she heard Jack’s voice, it was distant and slightly rushed but the words were clear.

  “He’s on the move!”

  Rachel tried opening the bedroom door but found it locked. Figuring there was no real reason to knock the door in, she turned on her heel and made her way back through the house, stepping out into the afternoon She went around the side of the house quickly and when she turned the corner, she saw Jack already running in pursuit.

  She took off as well, running at a full sprint to catch up to them. As she did so, passing between a strip of yard and the rickety picket fence that separated Bentley’s yard from his neighbor, she noted that the first window she came to along the side of the house was opened. Bentley’s escape route, she guessed.

  She heard Jack yelling up ahead, demanding that Bentley stop, that he was an FBI agent, and he was armed. But Bentley was apparently not taking heed. When Rachel came around the back side of the house, she found a backyard in need of maintenance. The grass was tall, the deck was deteriorating, and a small shed near the back of the property looked to be one strong wind from toppling over. She wondered, idly, how such a little structure had passed the HOA standards in a neighborhood like this. She was also unable to keep herself from thinking just how eerie the little shed seemed—like the sort of place someone might secretly build makeshift coffins.

  But her full attention was on Jack and the still-running Harry Bentley. When Rachel realized what the idiot was doing, she got frustrated but then also redirected her own course. He was cutting hard to the right, intending to go back around the opposite side of the house and, very likely, trying to get into the new truck they’d spotted in the driveway.

  She came to a skidding stop in the tall grass and went back the way she’d come. She pressed a bit harder this time, knowing that Bentley had a decent head start on her. When she came back to the front of the house, she saw that her hunch had been correct. Bentley was attempting to get into his truck, having come around the front of it so he could get in on the driver’s side. She saw a look of success on his face as he opened the door just as Jack came bounding around the side of the house. As far as Bentley knew, he’d outrun them.