Page 17 of The Devoted Game

“The skunk scent kept the dogs from picking up on anything else.”

Damn. He was right. She should have thought of that.

McBride walked over to the first tomb and ran his fingers along the edge where the lid sat atop the sidewalls. Vivian did the same. No gap. If Alyssa was inside there ... Vivian forced the thought away ... didn’t want to think like that yet.

Then he moved on to the next tomb. She reached for that same edge, traced the seam. The gap between the top and the walls that held it up made her pulse jump. That much of a crevice shouldn’t be there.

McBride crouched down and examined the gap more closely. “See this?”

She eased down next to him to check out what he had found. Small metal objects had been evenly placed all the way around between the lid and the walls. The gap provided just enough space to ensure a reasonable inflow of air ... maybe enough for survival.

“Grab the other end of this lid,” he ordered.

She took up a position at the foot of the tomb.

“We’re not trying to pick it up,” he clarified. “We just want to slide it down your way.”

He pushed. She pulled. The lid moved. A couple of the spacers popped out. McBride jerked his hands back in the nick of time.

“Close,” he muttered, then put his hands back into place. “A little more.”

The slow, cautious push-pull started again. Vivian’s heart pounded faster and faster. This wasn’t working nearly fast enough.

“Let’s swing it around,” Vivian suggested. Going that direction couldn’t possibly be any harder than doing it this way and would give them faster access to more of the interior. Dragging anyone else in here for assistance would only further contaminate the scene.

McBride nodded and started the tedious process of twisting the lid perpendicular to the tomb. More spacers popped loose.

When they had moved it far enough, they looked inside the gaping tomb together.

Six-year-old Alyssa Byrne, a white towel beneath her, lay atop the bones of a Wellborne ancestor. Her eyes were closed, her hands bound behind her back. Silver duct tape stretched across her mouth. The wordinnocenthad been written in black marker across her forehead.

Vivian’s hand trembled as she reached inside and touched the child’s carotid artery to check for a pulse.

Her breath caught and her gaze connected with McBride’s. “She’s alive.”

Five

7:45 p.m.

Night had fully invaded the cemetery.

Ryan sat on the steps leading into the Pioneer Memorial Building. He lit a Marlboro as he watched the paramedics loading the gurney into the wagon. The Byrnes climbed in with their daughter, neither prepared to let their only child out of their sight again. Probably wouldn’t until the kid was at least twenty-five.

The girl appeared a little dehydrated, but there were no visible physical injuries. Her stats were good, but since she was unconscious she’d been put on a monitor to watch her blood pressure and oxygen level, then C-collared and back-boarded for transport. Additional tests and close observation would give the full story.

Between the cops, the febbies, and the press, there was a regular circus going on around the cemetery entrance, complete with spotlights scattered about. Forensics techs had arrived and were going through the steps in both mausoleums as best they could with their spotlights. A second sweep would be conducted tomorrow to ensure nothing was missed. Yellow tape decorated the two known locations where the unsub had been. Holcomb and the other caretaker, Greene, were being questioned by Birmingham PD and Aldridge.

SAC Worth had arrived and taken over once the child was located. Fine by Ryan. He had done what he’d come to do. He was ready toget the hell out of here. He refused to consider the significance of the tagged rat or his former superior’s name being listed there. That was the Bureau’s problem, not his.

He scanned the crowd for Grace. Located her off to the side of the media/cop cluster. Judging by their body language, SAC Worth was reading her the riot act and she was taking it like a good little soldier. Worth’s movements looked strangely disconnected with the backlighting barrage of blue lights and spotlights.

Annoyance furrowed Ryan’s brow, which reminded him a headache was brewing from lack of caffeine. He couldn’t figure out the deal with Grace. She had come to Key West all fired up to get him here. His first impression had been that she was tough and determined. But there was a hypersensitive spot when it came to her sexuality or men or both. An ice princess, he’d thought. Considering the facts, her sensitivity to being female was not so surprising. For the most part, the Bureau was still a major boys’ club. Having that body and those lips likely hadn’t helped her in the respect department with her male peers.

Then there was Worth. He either had a thing for the lady or for some reason felt overprotective of her. Maybe because he disliked Ryan so much and didn’t want his newest agent being corrupted by him. Worth watched her like a hawk.

Too complicated.

Ryan took another drag from his smoke. He could do without complicated. Waking up every morning and getting through the day was problematic enough.