Dying Scream by Mary Burton Page A

corner out of sight, Gage let out a breath, which he felt like he’d been holding since he’d first seen her.
    She was just as stunning, just as poised, and just as elusive as he remembered. This was the first time he’d seen her in glasses with little make-up. And each time he’d seen her before, her hair had been blown dry, straightened. Today the unexpected waves made it look a bit wild.
    For a split second, the last four years melted. Pain and anger receded. His body hardened at the sight of her until his gaze caught the wink of gold and diamond on her left ring finger. And in a rush, he remembered what had slipped through his fingers.
    “She’s wound tighter than a bowstring,” Gage muttered.
    “Makes you wonder if there was something else chewing at her?” Vega said.
    Like facing off with an old lover? “Maybe.”
    The detectives moved toward Mr. Miller, who frowned over a clipboard. When they approached, he lowered it and tried out a smile that didn’t quite work. “Detectives.”
    Gage slid his hand into his pocket. “Something’s been bothering me since I arrived. Why did you search the land around the graves? Is that standard procedure?”
    “Ms. Barrington asked. She said she’d done research on this kind of work and said that old cemeteries often had other unmarked graves. She didn’t want any surprises.”
    “Really?”
    “Said a little extra time now could save her big trouble down the road.”
    “Speaking of time, she was late this morning,” Vega said.
    “She called me around seven thirty. Had to take her mom to the emergency room last night. Turns out the old lady was fine. Ms. Barrington drips with stress but does her best not to show it.”
    “Other than her mother, why is she stressed?” Gage said.
    “I’ve not met anyone that likes moving graves. Messing with the dead doesn’t sit well.” He shrugged. “Hell, you’d know better about that than anybody.”
    Vega took that one. “Death is the ultimate deadline. And nobody likes to be rushed.”
    Miller nodded. “I hear ya.”
    “You ever had surprises like this on a job before?” Vega was good at relaxing people, getting them to drop their guard and reveal more information than they’d originally intended.
    “I found an infant’s body outside of Bethesda, Maryland, on a job once. That caught us off guard. I told Ms. Barrington. Mention of the baby spooked her.”
    A dead child upset most folks. Adrianna would be more susceptible considering she’d lost her child in the car accident. There was also the child that had died twenty-seven years ago—the child she’d been intended to replace. Frances Thornton and Margaret Barrington had been friends back in the day. Interesting.
    “What are the chances that you’d find a grave out here?” Vega said.
    “Slim,” Gage said, rising. His knees ached, a holdover from too many tackles. “Even just fifty feet from the other graves the bones could have been missed. I’ve worked a missing persons case a few years back. Serial rapist killed a twelve-year-old girl when she fought back. He buried her in the woods. We traced the evidence found in his pickup truck to the girl. He confessed and told us where the body was buried. Still took us five days to find it.” He glanced around the field. He’d not had his share of good luck in his life and always questioned it when it found him. “Miller, how the hell did you find this?”
    Miller pulled off his hat and scratched his bald head. “A radar blip and then we spotted the mounds.”
    “Find anything before that? Something else that might have caught your eye?”
    “Funny you should say that. There was an old bandana tied to the fence. Old, torn, and blowing in the wind.”
    “A what?” Gage said.
    “Bandana.” He reached in his back pocket. Sunlight and time had faded the red die and frayed the edges. “Until you asked, I forgot all about it.”
    Gage frowned. The bandana had been contaminated. Miller’s clothing fibers