BUILT ON BONES

Chapter five

Marcus felt tears stinging his eyes for the second time that day. "You do?"

"Victor Senior was my client. I drafted his trust documents three days before he disappeared. I've spent fifteen years trying to prove his son killed him." Her smile was thin and dangerous. "You just handed me the evidence I needed."

"But the police said the concrete was fresh—"

"Because Hutchinson had it replaced three months ago. I have the work orders." She opened her briefcase, pulled out documents. "He knew the body was causing structural problems. So he had his crew dig it up, repour that section with fresh concrete, and rebury it. He thought that would stabilize the foundation and hide the evidence of tampering."

"But the building still failed," Marcus said slowly.

"Because you can't just cover up violence like that. The original foundation layers underneath were still compromised. The chemical contamination from blood and bone had spread too far." Vivian leaned forward. "But here's what matters: I can prove the work order was unauthorized. Hidden from city inspectors. Paid for in cash. And your recording gives us motive—Hutchinson was desperately trying to hide his father's murder."

Marcus's head was spinning. "So I'm not going to jail?"

"Oh, you're absolutely going to jail. Tonight. Tomorrow. However long it takes to formally charge you." Vivian's expression hardened. "Because Reeves is compromised. She's been feeding information to Hutchinson for years. Her badge number—642—it's one of his security contractors. She's on his payroll."

The betrayal hit Marcus like a physical blow. "How do you know?"

"Because I've been investigating Hutchinson's network for fifteen years. I know which officials he owns, which inspectors he's bribed, which police he's bought." She pulled out a contract, set it on the table beside his bed. "Which is why I need you to sign this. Immediately."

Marcus looked at the document. Legal language, dense and impenetrable. "What is it?"

"A retainer agreement. You hire me as your attorney, the trust pays all legal fees, and in exchange you work as a consultant to locate the other twelve bodies Hutchinson mentioned in his confession." Vivian's eyes were cold. "I want to bury that son of a bitch under the evidence of his crimes. And you, Mr. Chen, are the only person who can find them all."

"Because I can read the buildings," Marcus whispered.

"Because you can read the buildings," Vivian confirmed. "You're the X-ray that shows the skeletons. The divining rod for buried crimes. And I'm the lawyer who's going to make sure every single body you find gets justice."

Marcus thought about Victor Sr.'s final moments. The betrayal. The regret. The hope that someday, somehow, the truth would come out.

He thought about twelve other victims. Twelve other people whose families never got closure. Twelve other graves hidden in concrete and steel across the city.

He thought about his mother's last words: You're going to be special.

Marcus picked up the pen Vivian offered.

"What happens after I sign?" he asked.

"You get arrested. You get processed. You spend probably three days in holding while Reeves tries to build a case." Vivian's smile was sharp. "And then I destroy that case piece by piece, get you released, and we start hunting. Together."

"And if I'm wrong?" Marcus asked quietly. "What if I touch those buildings and find nothing? What if Victor Senior really is the only one?"

"Then we pursue the case against Hutchinson for that murder alone. But you don't think you're wrong, do you?"

Marcus remembered Hutchinson's voice in the darkness of the parking garage. Remembered Victor Sr.'s dying horror at learning his son had killed twelve times before. Remembered the cold certainty in the killer's eyes.

"No," he said. "I don't think I'm wrong."

He signed the contract.

Vivian collected it, stored it in her briefcase with crisp efficiency. "Good. Now, when the police formally interrogate you tomorrow, you say nothing except 'I want my attorney present.' Nothing else. No explanations, no protests of innocence, nothing. Understood?"

"Understood."

"The recording is already backed up in three separate secure locations. They can't delete it, can't suppress it, can't make it disappear. It exists." She stood, preparing to leave. "You did good work today, Mr. Chen. You found a murder victim that's been missing for fifteen years. You recorded a confession from his killer. You survived a building collapse that should have killed you."

"I got arrested for murder," Marcus said.

"Details." Vivian's smile was fierce. "The only person who walks away from this is Hutchinson—unless we work together. And I don't intend to let him walk."

She left. The door closed. The officers resumed their positions.

Marcus lay back against the pillows, exhausted beyond measure. His shoulder throbbed. His legs ached. His head felt like someone was driving nails through his skull.

But for the first time in years—maybe in his entire adult life—he felt something other than resignation.

He felt purpose.

Somewhere in this city, twelve bodies were buried in twelve buildings. Twelve victims who deserved to be found. Twelve families who deserved closure. Twelve graves that only he could locate.

His gift had always been a curse. A burden that cost him jobs and relationships and sanity.

But maybe—just maybe—it could be something else.

Maybe it could be justice.