Bone Secrets 03 - Buried

years. He knew how to stay hidden. As tenacious as Michael appeared to be, Chris knew how to avoid reporters. But, boy, her brother had some explaining to do about her nephew. When the publicity died down, she’d pressure him to let her meet the child.
    But why did she feel that she’d just missed an interesting opportunity with Michael Brody?

    The man was angry, pacing in his office.
    “What the hell were you thinking? What was that place? A torture chamber or sex dungeon? I told you to get rid of them. Not keep them as personal slaves for your twisted lusts. Jesus fucking Christ.”
    Gerald sat silently. He’d heard different versions of this lecture before. The man just needed to vent. What did he care?
    “I can’t believe you left that bunker full of crap. Who knows what they’ll find in there? These days, fucking forensics can trace you from a grain of rice you dropped. You left a treasure trove of kid junk for the police to sift through. Your fingerprints could be everywhere. And I
know
your fingerprints are in the system.” The man halted his pacing to stare him in the eye.
    “I never went in there without latex gloves,” he said. That wasn’t quite true. The gloves came off for certain things.
    “Did you leave any gloves? They can get fingerprints off the insides of those damned things.”
    “Of course not.”
    His boss held his stare, and Gerald understood why people respected him. He could convey every emotion in a way that made the listener feel it deep in their gut. Right now he was telling Gerald that he didn’t believe him.
    He was pretty sure there were no gloves left inside. His last visit to the bunker had been over a decade ago, and he’d cleaned out any incriminating garbage. He’d left all the kids’ stuff. It didn’t point any fingers at him. It just showed that children had been there.
    He’d eliminated most of the kids pretty fast. Girls first. Then the younger boys. The two oldest boys had appealed to him the most, so he’d kept them the longest.
    For the millionth time, he wondered about Chris Jacobs. Did he really have no memory of those years? Or was he just covering his ass? Gerald had made it clear to the boys what he could do to their families if they disobeyed. And he’d sent that reminder basket to the kid in the hospital. A strong message not to talk.
    Either way, the kid had stayed silent for twenty years.
    His boss was having the same train of thought. “That Jacobs kid might have some memories stirred up by all this publicity.”
    “He doesn’t even live in the state anymore. At least, I can’t find him. I look every now and then. He’s put as much space as possible between him and his past.”
    The boss gave a withering stare. “The fucking story has gone national. Maybe worldwide. Dead kids do that to the media.”
    Gerald shrugged. “He doesn’t know who I am or where to find me.”
    “They could put out a description. You’re a little
distinctive
looking.” The man looked him up and down.
    Gerald cringed inside. He’d done everything he could to look as normal as possible, but he constantly wondered if peoplewere staring at him. He’d been a small child when he first realized he didn’t look like the other kids. And kids were cruel. He’d read that some animals ostracize based on appearance. Society acted like those animals. He’d always been the outcast.
    “The important witness died. Daniel,” Gerald argued. “He’s the one who could’ve done some damage. He could have messed things up real bad, if he’d survived.”
    “You’re fucking lucky Daniel’s dead.” His boss looked ready to pop a nut. “If I had known you were keeping those kids alive instead of getting rid of them, I would have strangled you with my bare hands back then.
    “You’ve got some loose ends to tie up. Find Chris Jacobs
now
and get rid of him. You’ve put this off too long. I don’t know why I’ve put up with it. You should have taken care of it the minute he appeared. You’d told me they were all dead. Fucking lied to me that you were hanging on to some.”
    His boss was starting to repeat himself. His face was red, and his silver hair stuck out in places. Usually he was impeccably groomed, but the situation was wearing on him.
    Gerald ran a hand through his own hair. “I’ve looked for him. Every few years, I look. I’ve done every computer search possible. Either he doesn’t exist on paper or he’s changed his name. My money is on him changing