Chapter 8 - THE EMPTY GRAVE
Pinewood Memorial Cemetery sat on a hill outside town.
At six the next morning, snow covered every headstone.
Don refused to stay behind.
Shawn helped him out of the truck.
“You should be in bed.”
“I spent six weeks in a basement. I’ve had enough beds.”
Sheriff Ruiz joined them.
“So where exactly are we going?”
Don pointed toward a row of family plots.
Years earlier, Don and Maria had purchased side-by-side burial spaces.
“Your mother thought it was practical.”
Shawn shook his head.
“That sounds like her.”
They reached the Miller plots.
No graves yet.
Only two small stone markers with their names.
Don pointed to Maria’s marker.
“Under it.”
Ruiz stared.
“You buried evidence in your wife’s future grave?”
“Nobody steals from a grave.”
Ruiz looked around.
“Apparently nobody told you this isn’t a grave yet.”
They removed the marker.
Beneath it was a waterproof metal box.
Inside lay a black notebook.
Don’s ledger.
Page after page of license numbers, dates, elderly homeowners, land parcels, bank transactions.
Reed’s name appeared twelve times.
Kyle’s appeared twenty-seven.
Shawn turned pages faster.
“This is enough to bury them.”
Ruiz’s expression remained serious.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“We need proof connecting Reed directly to crimes, not just meetings.”
Don pointed to the final page.
“I got more.”
A storage unit number.
Ruiz looked up.
“What’s there?”
“Copies of recordings.”
Shawn stared at his father.
“You recorded them?”
“I’m old, not stupid.”
For the first time in days, Shawn smiled.
They drove to the storage facility.
Unit 214.
The manager unlocked the gate.
But when they reached the unit, Don stopped.
The padlock was gone.
Ruiz drew his weapon.
“Stay back.”
He lifted the door.
Empty.
Completely empty.
Don whispered a curse.
Someone had beaten them there.
Shawn entered.
Nothing.
Then he saw black ash near the back wall.
“Burned?”
Ruiz crouched.
“Recent.”
Don looked devastated.
“All of it.”
Shawn examined the floor.
A tiny piece of melted plastic stuck beneath a shelf.
He pulled it loose.
A memory card.
Ruiz looked at him.
“Could still work.”
They returned to the station.
A technician recovered one video.
Grainy.
Dark.
Recorded inside the Miller grocery store.
Kyle stood near the counter.
Malcolm Reed stood beside him.
Reed’s voice was clear.
“The old man won’t sign.”
Kyle shrugged.
“Then Brenda will.”
“That doesn’t solve the son.”
“What son?”
“Shawn.”
Kyle laughed.
“He hasn’t been home in twelve years.”
Reed responded:
“People come home when parents die.”
The room went silent.
Shawn’s skin went cold.
The recording continued.
Kyle asked, “So what do you want me to do?”
Reed looked directly toward the hidden camera.
“Make sure they don’t die until the land is ours.”
Ruiz stopped the video.
“That’s enough for a warrant.”
A deputy ran into the room.
“Sheriff.”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
“What happened?”
“Malcolm Reed’s gone.”
Shawn stood.
“Gone where?”
The deputy swallowed.
“His office is empty. House is empty. Phones are disconnected.”
Ruiz cursed.
Then Shawn’s phone buzzed.
A photo message.
Maria.
Sitting in a wheelchair.
A man’s hand rested on her shoulder.
May you like
Beneath the image were six words.
BRING THE LEDGER OR SHE DIES.
