Freak by Jennifer Hillier Page B

them earlier that the casket would be inside a grave liner, which wasmade of solid concrete and probably weighed a ton. Inside the casket, of course, would be Mrs. Doris Wheaton, who’d been dead for over two weeks. Thank God they wouldn’t be opening it. The victim, according to Abby Maddox, was supposedly buried somewhere underneath Mrs. Wheaton.
    The grave liner was carefully placed about ten feet away on the ground. Jerry watched as the workers who’d dug the hole moved away from it, almost instinctively. He didn’t blame them. At this time of night, with the wind and the mist and the grave liner and the twitchy caretaker, the whole thing seemed like a scene out of a bad vampire movie. All that was missing were the wooden stakes. It was creepy.
    Torrance thanked the workers for their help and told them to get a coffee. They couldn’t leave for the night—they’d have to eventually put the casket back in the grave—but for now, they weren’t needed. The workers didn’t argue and left quickly.
    Torrance shone his Maglite into the hole.
    “See anything?” Gingerly, Jerry stepped closer. He shone his own flashlight down into the grave, afraid to find out what, exactly, was in there. But it turned out to be anticlimactic—all he could see was a hole full of dirt.
    “Somebody get down there and start digging,” Torrance barked.
    The two crime scene technicians from Seattle PD—a young female and an older male—had arrived twenty minutes earlier. They’d been sitting at the back of their truck watching the whole thing from about ten feet away, sipping coffees from Tully’s. At the sound of Torrance’s voice, they looked at each other, uncertain. Neither looked happy to be here.
    “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” the male tech said, hopping down and grabbing his kit. “Let’s saddle up.”
    They brought their gear over to the hole, nodding to Jerryas they passed. The female tech, whose name was Jessica Grieg, tugged at the harness around her waist to make sure it was secure. Jerry thought she looked about twenty-one, though surely she was older than that. Fixed to Grieg’s harness was a length of bungee cord, the other end of which was strapped to her partner, whose name was Vic Chernovsky. Grieg then slipped on a hard hat with a small light attached.
    Face grim, she snapped the bulb light on and began a careful descent into the grave as her partner bore her weight. When she reached the bottom, she pulled something out from her kit that looked like a small spade, and started digging.
    “Aren’t you going in, too?” Torrance asked Chernovsky.
    The male tech shook his head. “Not enough room. You don’t want us bumping into each other, stepping on the remains we’re trying to find.” He studiously kept the spotlight pointed down at his partner.
    Twenty long minutes passed.
    Finally, Grieg called out, “I’ve got a body!”
    Jerry and Torrance both shone their lights down. Sure enough, a hand and leg were exposed. Obviously female, obviously slender. Jerry’s gut rolled.
    Torrance frowned. “Where’s the head?”
    Grieg was squatting, brushing away the dirt to uncover the victim’s head. A moment later, Jerry caught sight of long, dark hair and a bare shoulder. His heart lurched; Maddox hadn’t been bluffing.
    “She’s facedown.” Grieg looked up at them and squinted as their lights hit her face. “You want me to turn her over?”
    “Not yet,” Torrance said. “See if you can clear away what’s on her back.”
    Grieg nodded. Using a small brush, she delicately dusted the torso, revealing stark cuts on the victim’s back. The woundswere pressed with dirt, and against the dead woman’s pale skin, the words were easy to read.
    FREE ABBY MADDOX .
    And beneath those three words, another carving: 3/10.
    “Sonofabitch.” Torrance stared at the body for a few seconds longer before turning to face Jerry. “Three-ten. You know what this means, right?”
    “It’s the third