“More like I’ve lost my appetite because I’m feeling guilty. My formerly dead brother is very much alive and I haven’t really thought about whoever is buried in his grave. I can only hope, pray, he truly was dug up and his skeleton used by my brother as opposed to my brother…hurting him.”
She pushed her plate back and straightened in her chair. “We need to find out who’s buried in the Covington family cemetery and notifyhisfamily. To them, he’s either…missing…or he died a long time ago and his true grave is empty. Either way, they deserve to know what happened, or at least, where he is so they can give him a proper burial in his own plot of land with his own tombstone.”
“I agree. Which is why I asked Collier last night to get paperwork ready so that once we have tangible evidence to prove the body isn’t Esteban’s, we can get a court order to perform an exhumation. He’s also searching for missing persons reports in neighboring counties around the time your brother’s alleged remains were found to try to narrow down potential identities for our John Doe. Where is your family cemetery? That address will be needed for Collier’s paperwork.”
“On the acreage behind the Covington mansion outside of Memphis. Pretty much a direct walk from our back door. But it’s a long walk.”
“Huge back yard I take it?”
“Reminiscent of Central Park. It’s quite beautiful.”
“I’m sure it is. I’ll let Collier know when we’re online in a few more hours.”
“Do you think they’ve found my brother yet?”
“Doubtful. If they had, they’d have been knocking on our door to let us know.”
A knock sounded at the door.
They both looked at each other in surprise, then shoved out of their chairs.
Beau pulled out his gun. “While that could be Collier or the others,” he said, keeping his voice low so no one outside would hear him, “until I know for sure, stay out of sight. Go to the bedroom and wait there.”
He moved to the window to the left of the door in the kitchen area and peered out the blinds. He swore when he saw who it was.
The sound of the door creaking had him jumping back just as Sierra swung it open.
“Esteban!” she cried out.
Beau grabbed Sierra’s waist and yanked her away from her brother.
Esteban stepped inside just as Beau was whirling back toward him. He dove at Esteban, tackling him to the floor and shoving his right arm up between his shoulder blades.
“Don’t move,” Beau growled, pressing the bore of his pistol against the other man’s temple.
“Beau, stop it,” Sierra cried out. “He’s unarmed.”
“Which is the only reason I didn’t shoot him. Yet. Stop squirming, Covington.”
“You’re breaking my damn arm, cop.”
Beau eased his arm down a fraction. “Better?”
Esteban glared at him, his cheek plastered against the hardwood floor. “A little,” he gritted out.
“Sierra,” Beau said, not taking his eyes off her brother, “get my handcuffs. They’re in the nightstand, my side of the bed.”
Esteban’s eyes widened. “Yoursideof the bed? You bastard.”
“Oh, now you’re worried about your little sister. After making me think you were dead all this time!”
“You don’t understand.” Her brother jerked against Beau’s hold and tried to get up. Beau shoved his arm higher again.
Esteban let loose with a string of curse words, half in English and half in Spanish.
Sierra ran out of the room. When she returned, she gave Beau the handcuffs.
As soon as he had them on his prisoner, he jerked Esteban to his feet and holstered his pistol. Then he proceeded to pat Esteban down, checking for weapons.
