Page 6

Jaxson

I stepped back from the fresh gravesite, wiping red dirt from my face with my filthy sleeve.

My hands weren't quite steady as I photographed the wrapped body and disturbed pit. Too much adrenaline was coursing through me. Onyx paced the perimeter of the fountain, making soft whines, hoping I’d give her another treat.

Every whisper of wind through the gum trees made my skin crawl. A stone angel stood perched atop the crumbling fountain, its eroded face turned toward the open grave.

Huh. Maybe that’s why the person who buried the body here chose this spot.

I scanned the tree line, aware of how exposed we were. If someone was watching and that someone had buried this body thinking it would never see daylight, then Onyx and I were dead.

The familiar paranoia crept in like an old friend.

Twenty years of chasing Charlotte's ghost through dead ends and bureaucratic brick walls had taught me plenty.

The cops who handled her disappearance had been hiding something; I would stake my badge on it.

The way evidence had vanished, and leads had dried up, how they'd blocked our family at every turn, even after my brothers and I had carved out careers in law enforcement just to get answers.

Same shit with these orphanage deaths. Every breakthrough evaporated like smoke. Witnesses turned up dead in ditches or disappeared without a trace, and their secrets were lost with them.

This body was different. Recent. Whoever had buried this body here had slipped up, and for the first time since this nightmare began, we had a fresh lead worth following.

If we could keep this quiet long enough for Whitney to work his magic.

I jabbed his number on my phone, leaving grimy streaks across the screen.

He answered fast. "Miss me already, bro?"

"Onyx found another one." The words rasped through my dust-choked throat. "But this one's fresh, Whit. Really fresh."

"Where?"

"By the old fountain. The body was wrapped in a tarp, different from the others, and guess what? It’s adult-sized."

"Holy shit.” The line went so quiet I could hear his breathing. “Don't touch anything else. I'm thirty minutes out."

"I can't wait that long. It’s completely wrapped, so I need to confirm the contents are human." My excuse was weak. Unless this was someone’s sick joke, the shape inside the tarp was definitely human. But I needed to know.

"Jax, for once in your life, wait?—"

"No can do, bro."

"Jax! Shit. Fine. Take photos."

"Already on it." I snapped close-ups of the rope work, zooming in on the knots. "The rope is marine grade. Pale blue nylon."

As I switched to speaker and balanced the phone on a chunk of the broken fountain base, the stench hit me in waves: sweet and rancid, like prawns rotting in the summer heat. Even Onyx backed away, her nose wrinkling.

Dropping back into the shallow pit so my feet were on either side of the body, I found a loose end of rope around the victim's neck.

"The knots are professional." I traced the precise loops with my thumb. "Someone knew exactly what they were doing when they tied these."

"How many bindings? "

"It’s the same rope, but bound at three points: neck, waist, feet." I worked the knots loose, documenting each step with more than enough photos.

“Jax, I’m begging you to wait,” Whitney said.

“I'm going in."

“Christ almighty. Then just do the bare minimum and wrap it back up. You hear me? That’s an order.

” Whitney was three minutes older than me, and he often used that to attempt to pull rank.

In my mind, we brothers stood equal. We might not share identical faces, but we shared the same burning moral compass, the same blood running hot with justice, the same obsession with finding answers.

Unlike those badge-wearing bastards who'd let Charlotte's case grow cold.

“What do you see?” Whitney’s desperation bled through the line.

“Hold your horses.” Sweat trickled into my eyes as the merciless sun baked everything: me, the freshly turned earth, and worst of all, the contents of the tarp.

The heat amplified that distinctive smell, the one that crawled up my nose and settled in the back of my throat.

No amount of academy training could steel a decent person against it.

Onyx paced in tight circles nearby with her ears pinned back, whining low. She always got a bit edgy when the digging started, almost as if she regretted having such a keen nose for bodies.

"Okay." I curled my fingers under the edge of the tarp. "Here we go."

I peeled back the silver fabric, starting at the head. The air hung dead still as if the stone angel watching us from the fountain was holding its breath.

"Oh, fuck." The words escaped my lips before I could rein them in.

Onyx stopped pacing and went rigid beside the pit.

"What?" Whitney's voice shot through the speaker.

"We've got long blonde hair. It's female." The hair was matted with decay, clinging to what remained of the face. The skin had long since taken on that leathery, dark appearance that time and earth created.

Onyx backed away with a growl. Maybe she sensed my shock.

"You sure?" Static crackled beneath Whitney’s words.

"The body is an adult woman. No doubt." My pulse hammered against my throat.

This wasn't just another body. This could be the thread that unraveled everything connecting the orphanage's buried secrets to whatever darkness still festered here.

"Jax. Cover her up. Now."

He was right. I couldn't risk compromising this potential clue.

A gust of wind lifted the corner of the tarp, threatening to expose more of her to the scorching sun.

I pressed my palm down on the hot, silver fabric. "Okay, I will. But move your ass."

"I am!"

"How far away are you?"

"Ten minutes. Listen, get that tarp back on that body, then find something to shade her from the sun. You got a tent in your Jeep?"

"A tent? Since when do I carry a?—"

"Umbrella?"

"Whitney, have you met me?"

He exhaled hard. "That body needs protection from that sun."

"I’ll get her covered. Just get here ASAP." I yanked the tarp over the face again, making a silent prayer that the identity of this woman could be established quickly.

"And, Jaxson?" Whitney's tone dropped. "Call Parker. We need him."

“I agree. Will do.” I studied the hulking silhouette of the orphanage’s main building, mentally cataloging what remained on the ground floor of its gutted rooms that I’d walked through at least a dozen times.

“I’ll call Aria and let her?—”

“What? No.” I snatched the phone from the dirt. “We need to contain this. The fewer people who know about this?—”

“Are you fucking kidding me. Aria and her team have been trying to solve this bullshit longer than we have.”

“Listen . . .” I lowered my voice. “Whoever buried this body here, they didn’t plan on it being found and they’re going to be fucking pissed that we found it.”

“You got that right.”

“So we don’t need anybody sabotaging this.”

“Exactly. That’s why we need Aria’s backup. Now stop arguing with me, and cover that fucking body. I’ll be there in five.” The line went dead.

I scanned the sky. Not a cloud in sight, just relentless sun that threatened to destroy whatever evidence remained on that body and inside that tarp.

I gave the tarp-covered form one last look. "Don't go anywhere," I muttered to the body, then as I walked away, I whistled low. "Onyx, come."

She bound to my side like she was grateful for the excuse to put distance between herself and that body.

I'd never seen her spooked by a corpse before.

My hand brushed my holster as we approached the building, an old habit that seemed almost redundant with Onyx beside me.

One word from me and she could take down a threat before they even knew what was coming.

The orphanage's rear entrance loomed ahead, a dark mouth like the creepy clowns in a penny arcade.

Onyx's ears snapped forward, and her shoulders bunched as we closed in.

Some partners talked too much, asked too many questions, and had too many opinions.

Onyx just moved with me, read my signals, and watched my back.

K9s were the best partners I'd ever had, except for my brothers.

Onyx and I crossed over the weathered threshold and our steps echoed through the vacant service corridor that stretched ahead of us. My boots and Onyx’s paws stirred the dust blanketing the black and white tiles, and the field of dead leaves crunched beneath us like ancient bones.

The corridor split at a T-junction. Branching left was the staff wing, and on the right, metal hooks lined the walls of an old cloakroom.

Beyond that was the communal washroom doorway which no longer had a door.

Maybe it never did. That thought sent fresh anger burning through my gut.

This place had a fuck-ton of rotten secrets that festered like infected wounds.

Hopefully, that body out by the fountain would finally force some answers to the surface.

Rust-stained shower heads lined the grimy tile walls, and industrial-grade disinfectant still ghosted the air.

The tap sputtered but ran clear which was a small mercy for us each time we returned.

Onyx lapped thirstily while I splashed water over my face and hands.

We'd found the plumbing still worked last year during the grave excavations.

Angelsong had been built to shelter generations of orphans, and its stone foundations would last centuries.

Instead, the monsters who ran this place had made it a major crime scene.