Buried Slaughter by Ryan Casey

“Okay. We…‌we must’ve lost Dominic for a moment there. We’ll try to bring you updates as we get them. In other news…‌”
    “You okay, Bri?”
    Brian jumped. His heart raced. Hannah was standing at the door, staring at him. He hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. “Sorry, Han, I…‌” He turned off the television in an attempt to distance himself.
    “Don’t mean to disturb you,” Hannah said. “Just I heard the kettle boiling and…‌and then I heard the television.”
    Fuck. He hadn’t even made her a brew. He’d come downstairs and now all he could think about were the images in his mind of the Pendle Hill massacre site. The decapitated heads. The bones, older than the heads.
    And the bodies. Gone. Nowhere to be seen.
    “Are you okay, Brian? You look a little pale.”
    Brian tried to smile, but it was no use. He gulped. Took in a deep breath as the calm in his stomach gave way to dread and curiosity. “It’s…‌There’s been more murders. Just round the corner from Pendle Hill. Identical circumstances, apparently. And another archeological group.”
    Hannah covered her mouth with her hands. “Another? But what…‌why would that happen? Who would do that?”
    Brian rested a shaky hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He was telling the truth. He was out of his depth, cast out of the police. No matter how much he wanted to know what was going on, he didn’t. He couldn’t.
    “Come on,” Brian said. “Let’s go have a brew.”
    The pair of them sat down and had a cup of tea together in the kitchen. Hannah scanned each and every newspaper story of the new killings, whose victims included John Brabiner himself. Every now and then, she gasped and tutted. Brian didn’t even want to ask.
    As he finished his final gulp of tea, which was bordering on cold, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at it‌—‌unknown number. Strange. He answered and lifted it to his ear.
    “Hello?”
    “Brian? It’s Wallson. Guessing you’ve seen the news.”
    Brian glared across the table at Hannah, who was still fixated on the newspaper, and moved the phone away from his ear. He felt like he was cheating on her with an ex, or something. He couldn’t have her know he was on the phone to the journalist.
    “Before you hang up, I want you to know I’ve found something. Something I think you’ll want to know about very much. Are you alone?”
    Hannah raised her head and mouthed, “You okay?”
    Brian nodded and held a hand out. “Erm, yes. Just give me a moment.” He covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Work-related. Just let me take this.”
    Hannah nodded and returned to reading the newspaper as Brian walked into the hallway, moving his hand away from the mouthpiece.
    “What do you think you’re doing calling me?” he gasped. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m in?”
    “I do, as a matter of fact,” David said. “And you can put the phone down and we can finish talking right now and end this whole thing. That’s fine with me.”
    “Thanks for the approval. That’s exactly what I was about to fucking do.”
    “But before you do, just hear me out. This Harold Harvey fella you told me about. I had a few little birdies do a bit of digging. Or pecking. Or whatever the fuck birdies do.”
    “And?”
    David took a few moments before responding. He clearly knew he had Brian right where he wanted him. “Well, it turns out Mr. Harold Harvey made another last-minute booking recently. Offered a very large sum of money for a certain archeological dig company to do a bit of low-key work for him.”
    Brian stuttered. He had an idea where David Wallson was going with this. “Harold Harvey hired Brabiner’s as well as Davidson?”
    David laughed. “Strange, right? Both hired at the last minute and for a large sum of cash. Both end up headless and stuffed between a bunch of old bones. But there’s something else I’ve got for you.