An Unquiet Grave (Louis Kincaid Mysteries) by P.J. Parrish Read Free Book Online Page B

chair. “Good Lord,” she murmured.
    Louis looked at Rodney. He had gone pale.
    A clock chimed out in the foyer three times before Eloise DeFoe spoke again. “Well, where are my daughter’s remains then?”
    There was nothing in the woman’s face to read, not surprise, horror, or grief. Louis realized she was assuming he was working for the hospital and he decided to use this assumption to his advantage. “We haven’t been able to locate them,” he said.
    Rodney set the glass down with a thud. “You’re saying you’ve lost my sister?”
    “We don’t know,” Louis said carefully. “We are looking into it and—”
    “This is outrageous,” Rodney said. “You can just go back to that hospital and tell your boss to expect a letter from my lawyer.”
    Louis glanced at the mother. She was just sitting there, stunned. He knew he was about to get thrown out and that he wasn’t going to get any information about Claudia’s past. He decided his best chance was to keep up the pretense of working for Hidden Lake.
    “Now calm down, Mr. DeFoe,” Louis said to Rodney.
    “You can help us out. Surely when your sister died, you were given some paperwork, a death certificate. Anything you have might help us.”
    “You lost all her records, too? I want you out of our house. Now.”
    Louis turned to the mother. “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “Please, just go,” she said softly.
    Rodney followed him to the door and waited stone-faced as Louis stepped outside.
    “My mother isn’t well,” Rodney said. “Don’t call her, don’t come back here.”
    Louis started down the steps but then turned back. He couldn’t let this go. “You don’t care, do you?” Louis said. “You don’t care at all where your sister’s remains are. What kind of brother are you?”
    Rodney slammed the door.

CHAPTER 7
     
    Louis checked his watch. Just after nine. He had left Plymouth before his foster parents were awake, not wanting to give Phillip the chance to come along to Hidden Lake. There was a growing chill in the Lawrence house, and Louis didn’t want to give Frances any more reason for suspicion.
    There were only three cars in the parking lot when he pulled up to the hospital. He zipped up his jacket and got out, letting his gaze wander over the grounds.
    From what he could see, the compound was huge, enclosed in a wrought-iron fence that had once been very elegant but was now topped with loops of razor wire. He could see maybe a half-dozen red brick buildings, some small and utilitarian looking, others large and elaborate with steep-sloped roofs and peaked dormer windows, spires, chimneys, and bell towers. He could see the top of three brick smokestacks attached to what he guessed was some kind of power plant. Beyond the smokestacks, more red brick buildings, and then a border of bare trees.
    He remembered the schematic on the bulletin board back at John Spera’s office. It had shown a lake on the property, but he couldn’t see one. There was a narrow asphalt road that stretched from the parking lot and up the hill, disappearing into the pines. Maybe he would drive it when he was done inside. If it wasn’t closed.
    Louis jogged across the parking lot to the building signposted ADMINISTRATION. Like all the others, it was red brick but with an imposing stone portico of three columned arches. Carved in the portico was ANNO DOMINI 1895.
    Louis found himself trying to imagine what the building might have looked like a hundred years ago, before the harsh Michigan winters had scarred the bricks and eaten away the stone steps, before the ivy, snaking over the stone arches and pillars, had gone brown and brittle.
    A water-stained sign was taped to the front door that read CLOSING, DECEMBER 31, 1988. ALL VISITORS CLAIMING RECORDS OR LOVED ONES MUST REPORT TO THE MAIN NURSE’S STATION ON THE SECOND FLOOR.
    Louis pulled open the door and stepped inside. The lobby had an austere beauty, like an old-fashioned bank, with marble pillars and