One Grave Too Many

making mistakes. There was no reason to kill the Boones. Let me show you something. Dammit, set the box down. It won’t hurt to listen.”
    He set the box on the table and Diane took out the scapula and showed it to him. “This entire area is crushed, including the head of the humerus and the adjoining ribs. It’s my opinion that an individual couldn’t have caused that kind of damage. See this straight line in the damaged area here? I think the disc brake of a jacked-up car fell on him. It looks like an accident. Why in the hell did Dylan dump the body and kill the entire Boone family? He needs professional help, not a clean slate to start over.”
    “Don’t tell her, Dad.”
    “What’re you doing here, son? I told you I’d take care of this.”
    “You’re going to just let her go.”
    “Yes, son. There’s no reason to kill her.”
    The Dylan standing in the doorway of the vault could have been an evil twin of the one she knew. He had the same features, but his eyes were as cold as death. This was a mean young man, and Jake couldn’t see it.
    “Dylan, listen to me. I have this under control.”
    “No, Dad, you don’t. This will always follow me unless something is done with her. I think she’s already guessed it was the two of us who snatched her. She probably saw us when we were out on the dock looking for her. Sooner or later she’ll convince someone. I’m right, aren’t I?”
    Diane didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Dylan, all this was so unnecessary.”
    “Unnecessary? You don’t know his old man.” He gestured toward the box of bones. “Do you know, when he was five years old a kid accidentally ran over him on his bike. He wasn’t even hurt, just a few cuts. His old man made sure the boy’s father was fired from his job. They ended up on welfare.”
    Diane looked puzzled.
    “Don’t you get it? His dad was as vindictive as hell, and he was proud of his father for it. I asked him to come home with me for spring break on the spur of the moment.”
    Diane ignored Jake and focused her attention on his son. “His dad was vindictive? That’s your excuse for this crime spree? I think you just enjoyed killing.”
    “Don’t tell her, son. Don’t give her any information she can use to identify this person.”
    “Why not? I want this bitch to understand. She thinks I’m some kind of maniac. We were in my SUV and had a flat. It was raining, and he wouldn’t get out and help. He’d rather sit and drink. I was jacking up the car in the rain and he was bouncing up and down, harassing me, laughing at me. I pulled the son of a bitch out of the car, we got in a fight and he fell under the truck and knocked out the jack. He screamed like a pig. I got the jack from under the truck and jacked it up and pulled him out. Was he grateful? No, the SOB screamed and cursed me, telling me what his old man would do to me. Me, the policeman’s son who somehow made it to Harvard.”
    “Son.”
    “Shut up, Dad. Let me do this. I want her to understand this wasn’t my fault. I knew if his father got even with the boy on the bike for nothing, he sure as hell would get even with me for this.” He put a hand on the box of bones. “He was really fucked up—couldn’t even move his damn arm. He passed out a couple of times. I didn’t know what to do. Every time he came to, he’d start screaming. So I hit him. And he stopped. We weren’t far from where we used to go on old Abercrombie’s place, so I put the spare on, dragged his sorry ass in the SUV. God, do you know how hard that was? I took him to where Luther dumped his carcasses. I thought that’d be a fitting grave. I took his clothes so he wouldn’t be identified easily. He’d still be there if George hadn’t found that damn bone and taken it.”
    “I can see that you were caught in a bad situation,” said Diane.
    “You still don’t see. It was my first year at Harvard. His old man would have gotten me thrown out. In a flash, my whole career gone because of that stupid, drunk son of a bitch. It was his fault. Why should I have to pay for it?”
    “Taking the bones won’t clear you. They aren’t the only evidence.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “There’s your fingerprint on the silencer you used when you shot Jay.”
    “No. You’re lying. Dad said they just had a partial that they couldn’t match.”
    “You didn’t read the report closely, Jake. It was the opinion of that expert that he couldn’t get a match because of