Page 14 of Scarred By Sin

“Almost reverently,” Brook murmured as she began to piece together the profile.

Brook slowly began to turn, taking it all in. Eight burial sites. Seven women and the man who had owned this property. The unsub had returned to this space again and again, selecting locations with the understanding of someone intimately familiar with the soil, the plants, and the rhythms of the growing season. He had placed his victims in the earth the way a gardener places seedlings.

Not with violence.

Not with haste.

But with intention.

“What about identification?” Brook gestured toward the female remains.

“We’ve submitted dental records and DNA samples from all three fully excavated sets to the Bureau lab for cross-referencing,” Kessler explained as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “You’ll have answers as soon as we get them.”

Brook returned to the center of the greenhouse and stood still. The work lights continued to hum, and somewhere in the rafters, a bird rustled among the ironwork.

Seven women buried in a place designed to nurture life.

And one man who had fought back against his attacker.

Brook placed her hand on the curve of her stomach. The baby shifted beneath her palm in the half second before she pulled away, as though acknowledging what surrounded them. Eight graves in a greenhouse, and not a single answer yet as to why they were here.

Theo stood near the entrance. So did Sylvie. Neither spoke, because they understood this phase of hers very well. She was absorbing the scene around her, already constructing a profile. In this case, almost certainly two profiles.

Brook turned to Kessler.

“I’d like copies of everything you have so far. Radar maps, excavation photographs, and soil sample results as they come in.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kessler.” Brook extended her hand, and Kessler shook it with the same firm grip she’d offered at the start. “Your team has done exceptional work. We’ll do our best to stay out of your way.”

Kessler gave a single nod and returned to her excavation site, pulling the respirator back into place. Brook stepped out of the greenhouse and into the July heat. The brightness was disorienting after the dim, green-filtered interior. Theo and Sylvie followed, along with Sheriff Gentry, who had remained near the entrance throughout the briefing, hands in his pockets.

“Sheriff, I’d like you to join us up at the main house.” Brook held the man’s gaze, and he understood the time had come for them to have an in-depth conversation. “I need you to walk my team through everything you know about the Ellingham family.”

6

Bobby ‘Bit’ Nowacki

July 2026

Wednesday — 2:49 pm

Bit pulled the SUV to a stop near the stone steps and killed the engine. He sat there for a moment with both hands on the wheel, staring up at the mansion through the windshield. Two and a half stories of gray fieldstone. The heavy columns framed the entrance, and the windows hadn’t been cleaned in what was clearly a very long time. As for the ivy crawling up the front wall, it certainly wasn’t decorative.

He suppressed the urge to restart the engine and reverse his way out of the estate. He’d never been fond of eerie places like this one, and maybe there was a chance he could convince the team to stay somewhere in town. Unfortunately, the front door swung open before Bit had a chance to make a decision.

A man stepped out onto the portico, pausing long enough to slip his socked feet into work boots that had more dried mud on them than leather. He then descended the stone steps with the unhurried gait of someone who had nowhere else to be and hadn’t for a very long time. Late sixties, maybe early seventies, with a lean frame that suggested a lifetime of physical work.

His face was weathered and deeply lined around the eyes and mouth, his silver hair cropped close. He wore canvas work pants and a faded flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He stopped at the base of the steps and waited with his hands at his sides.

Bit climbed out of the SUV and adjusted his knitted cap, which had slipped during the drive. The heat was punishing, and he could already sense the sweat forming along his hairline despite having been outside for approximately four seconds. Cicadas droned from somewhere on the estate in a steady, pulsing wave, and the gravel crunched beneath his shoes as he walked toward the steps.

“Bobby Nowacki,” Bit greeted, extending his hand. “Everyone calls me Bit, though. I’m with S&E Investigations.”

“Porter Voss.” The man’s grip was dry and calloused. “I used to be the groundskeeper here, but now I just help Miss Ellingham with anything she needs.”

Porter’s voice was a bit raspy. He wasn’t unfriendly, but he wasn’t exactly welcoming, either. He occupied a middle ground that Bit associated with people who listened more than they spoke.