BUILT ON BONES

Chapter eight

Vivian's office was nothing like Marcus expected.

He'd imagined mahogany furniture and leather-bound law books, maybe a view of the city skyline. Corporate lawyer aesthetics. Instead, he found himself in a converted warehouse in the industrial district, standing in a space that looked more like a detective's conspiracy room than a legal practice.

One entire wall was covered in photographs, documents, and strings connecting them like a spider's web. Newspaper clippings about disappearances. Building permits for Hutchinson Development projects. Timelines marked in different colored markers. At the center of it all, a photograph of Victor Hutchinson Jr., his cold eyes staring out at the room.

"Welcome to fifteen years of obsession," Vivian said, setting her briefcase down on a battered desk that looked like it came from a government surplus sale. "Coffee?"

"Please." Marcus couldn't take his eyes off the wall. There were so many connections, so many threads. "You've been investigating him this whole time?"

"Since three days after Victor Senior disappeared." Vivian handed him a mug of coffee that was actually good—expensive, the kind that came from small-batch roasters. "I was his attorney. I knew he was afraid of his son. When he vanished, I knew Junior had killed him. I just couldn't prove it."

She gestured at the wall. "So I started collecting data. Every Hutchinson Development project. Every employee who quit suddenly. Every subcontractor who disappeared. Every journalist who stopped writing about him. Every union organizer who dropped their complaints." She pulled out a red marker, circled twelve photographs of different people. "These are the ones who vanished during active construction phases. The ones who had direct conflicts with Junior. The ones I believe are buried in his buildings."

Marcus stepped closer to the wall. Twelve faces stared back at him. Different ages, different backgrounds, but all with the same story underneath their photos: Missing. Last seen near Hutchinson Development site.

"Tell me about them," Marcus said quietly.

Vivian picked up a file folder, opened it. "Rafael Santos. Union organizer. Thirty-two years old. Disappeared fourteen years ago while organizing labor protests at the Riverside Complex. He was documenting safety violations, planning to go to OSHA and the press. His wife filed a missing persons report. Police investigated for three weeks, found nothing."

She moved to the next photo. "Jennifer Zhao. Investigative journalist. Twenty-eight. Vanished thirteen years ago while writing an exposé about building code violations in the Harbor District towers. She'd interviewed whistleblowers, obtained internal documents showing Junior was bribing inspectors. Her editor says she called in excited about a major breakthrough, then never showed up for work again."

Marcus felt sick. These weren't just names on a list. They were people. People with families, with lives, with futures that Hutchinson had erased.

"Thomas Mallory," Vivian continued. "Environmental lawyer. Forty-one. Disappeared twelve years ago during his challenge to the permits for the Westside Commercial Plaza. He'd found evidence of contaminated soil that Hutchinson had buried instead of properly remediating. Filed a lawsuit. Three days before the hearing, he vanished."

She went through all twelve. Each one a person who'd stood up to Hutchinson. Each one gone without a trace.

"And you think they're all buried in the buildings they were investigating?" Marcus asked.

"I know they are." Vivian pulled out a second file, this one thicker. "After Victor Senior's body was found, I cross-referenced the disappearances with construction timelines. Every single one vanished during a concrete pour. Usually foundation work or underground parking construction. Times when a body could be easily hidden and permanently sealed."

She spread out a city map on her desk. Red pins marked twelve locations across the metropolitan area.

"Riverside Complex." She pointed to the first pin. "Rafael Santos. Disappeared May 2011, during foundation work on Building C."

"Harbor District Towers." Second pin. "Jennifer Zhao. Vanished August 2012, during underground parking garage construction."

"Westside Commercial Plaza." Third pin. "Thomas Mallory. Last seen October 2013, two days before a major concrete pour for the basement levels."

She continued through all twelve. By the end, Marcus could see the pattern. Hutchinson had turned his construction empire into a graveyard, each building a tomb for someone who'd threatened him.

"How many people know about this?" Marcus asked.

"Besides you and me? No one who'll do anything about it." Vivian's expression was grim. "I've tried going to the police, the FBI, the district attorney. But without bodies, without proof, it's just a conspiracy theory. Hutchinson's lawyers tie everything up in litigation. His money buys silence. And people like Reeves make sure investigations go nowhere."

"But now we have Victor Senior," Marcus said. "That's proof."

"That's proof of one murder. We need the others." Vivian looked at him intently. "We need you to find them. All of them. Build a case so overwhelming that even Hutchinson's money can't make it disappear."

Marcus stared at the map. Twelve red pins. Twelve buildings he'd have to visit. Twelve visions he'd have to experience—twelve deaths flooding through his mind, twelve victims' final moments of terror and pain.

The thought made him want to throw up.

"I'll need access to the buildings," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Some of them are occupied. I can't just walk in and start touching walls."

"I'm working on that. The trust has resources." Vivian pulled out another file. "But we need to be strategic. Start with the easiest targets first—buildings where we can gain legitimate access without arousing suspicion."

She pulled out three photographs, laid them on the desk.

"Riverside Complex, Building C. It's a residential tower now, fully occupied. But the building has an annual safety inspection coming up next month. I can get you hired as a consultant through a firm I trust."

"Harbor District Towers, Office Building A. Major tenant just moved out, leaving three floors vacant. The property management company is doing renovations. You could pose as part of the inspection team."

"Westside Commercial Plaza, parking structure. It's public parking, anyone can access it. You could go there today if you wanted."

Marcus looked at the three options. His hands were already trembling at the thought of what he'd see when he touched those structures. But there was no other way.

"The parking structure," he said. "If it's public access, we won't need elaborate cover stories. And parking garages..." He swallowed. "That's where bodies would most likely be buried. Underground. In foundations or support columns."

"Thomas Mallory," Vivian confirmed. "Environmental lawyer. Disappeared twelve years ago. If you can find him, we can prove a pattern. One body is a murder. Two bodies is a serial killer."

Marcus nodded slowly. "When do we start?"

"Now." Vivian grabbed her car keys. "The Westside Commercial Plaza is twenty minutes from here. We can be there by noon."

"Now?" Marcus looked down at himself. He was still wearing hospital scrubs, his arm in a sling, his face a mess of bruises. "I look like I got hit by a truck."

"You look like a building inspector who survived a structural collapse, which is exactly what you are." Vivian was already heading for the door. "And looking injured might actually help. People are less suspicious of someone who's obviously been through trauma."

Marcus grabbed his coffee and followed her, his knee protesting every step. His body was still screaming from the Celestial Heights collapse. His shoulder throbbed despite the painkillers. The phantom burns on his palms from touching the marble floor hadn't faded yet.

And now he was about to do it again. Touch another building. Experience another murder. Let another victim's death flood through his nervous system and leave its mark on his psyche.

He thought about his mother's warning, years ago, when his gift first manifested. Be careful, baby. Every memory you take in becomes part of you. Don't let the dead consume the living.

Too late, Mom, he thought. I'm already halfway to consumed.

But twelve people deserved justice. Twelve families deserved closure. And Marcus was the only one who could give it to them.

The Westside Commercial Plaza was exactly what its name suggested—a sprawling complex of office buildings, retail spaces, and a massive five-story parking structure that served the entire development. It had been built twelve years ago, right when Thomas Mallory disappeared.

Vivian parked on the street outside. "The parking structure's southeast corner. That's where they poured the last major foundation section, according to the construction records. If Mallory's buried here, that's the most likely location."

Marcus stared at the parking structure.