Shadows of Lives Once Lived
by Jeffrey Scott Holland - part 3

After a long day, Ray left a couple of people there for the night to watch over the property until more investigating could be done. He sent the bodies to a lab to be tested overnight so they could have some leads by the next day. They would figure out where to go from there.

The next morning Ray arrived at the station early and immediately called to the lab. He talked on the phone for a few minutes. He couldn't believe what they were telling him. The forensic report identified the third body to be a young black man who had been buried there for approximately thirty years. Ray couldn't figure it out.

He hung up the phone and waited by the fax machine for the autopsy reports. As he waited, he tried to figure this thing out. Danny walked in and Ray told him what the lab had told him on the phone. Then he added, "The best that I can come up with is that someone has been killing people for over thirty years. Why else would they have been buried together like that? But why was that truck there, unless the killer drove them there in their own vehicle." He thought hard for a moment. "Have that truck searched for prints, or blood, or anything you can find."

As Danny left the room, Ray looked at the first fax that came through. It wasn't the one he was interested in, but he looked at it anyway. It was the report on Joe. He wanted the one on the black guy, but he read it anyway. He was very interested in the fact that almost every bone in his body had been broken.

As the second fax came through, he saw that Cyrus' body was the same way. What could have done that kind of damage to two fairly large boys? He had seen terrible car accidents that didn't do that kind of damage, and this vehicle was fine. They had located Cyrus' truck. It hadn't been driven in months, because Cyrus had it torn apart to work on it.

He looked at the third fax, the one he had been waiting on, but it really didn't tell him any more than he learned on the phone. He kept trying to think who could have buried all these bodies. It was a fairly small town, and he was trying to narrow it down to people who had lived there for over thirty years who would be able to do that kind of thing. If the same person had done this, he would have to be in at least his late forties.

The truck had been dusted, but no prints had been found, other than Cyrus' and Joe's. No traces of blood or anything had been found either. Some tools were found in the back of the truck, but no shovel. A long, hard search produced the shovel on the side of the road, in the bushes, about a quarter of a mile away.

When the shovel was dusted for finger prints, they discovered prints belonging to Roland Miller. This was the key that Ray had been looking for. The thing that baffled him the most was that Roland was a 16 year old, black kid. Not someone who was even alive when the first body was buried.

Later that evening, Ray and Danny made a visit to the Miller residence. A white woman in her fifties came to the door. Danny said, "I'm sorry, we were looking for a Roland Miller. Do you know where he lives?"

The lady looked worried. "Yes, he lives here. Is there something wrong?"

Ray tried to ease her mind. "No Ma'am. At least we hope not. We just need to talk to him about a case we are working on."

Danny looked baffled. "We were under the impression that Roland was black."

The lady replied, "Oh, he is. We adopted him about ten years ago. His real parents were killed in a car wreck." She opened the door and escorted them to the living room. She went to get Roland, and in a few minutes they both came into the room.

Ray looked at Roland. He was a tall, skinny boy, hardly someone who could have done that type of damage to two big guys. The only thing Ray could figure was that he had been an accomplice to an older person.

Ray asked, "Roland, did you know Joe Mackey or Cyrus Scott?"

Roland was really nervous. "Yes. They went to my school."

Roland's stepfather came into the room and sat on the couch next to his wife. Danny acknowledged his presence by nodding his head, as if to greet him. However, the man seemed to prefer not to be acknowledged. He didn't say a word, but just sat quietly and listened. Ray said, "Joe and Cyrus were both killed a couple of weeks ago. Do you know anything about their deaths? Anything at all would help us out a lot."

Roland started to shake, "If I were to tell you what happened, nobody would believe me."

His stepmother looked shocked that he would even know anything about it. His father also had a stunned look on his face, but remained quiet.

Ray assured him, "Roland, whatever you tell us, we'll put into our records and we'll believe you as long as you're telling the truth. We just have to know what really happened before we can even decide what to believe."

Roland said, "You have to understand where I'm coming from though. I'm the only black kid in my school, and I get picked on enough as it is. If I tell you, I'll be run out of town or something."

Ray said, "If anyone bothers you, we'll arrest them. You'll have total police protection if that's what it takes. We really have to know what happened that night. Were you there?"

"Yes, I was there."

"Do you know how they died? Did someone kill them?"

"Yes. Or something."

Ray looked curious. "What do you mean by some-thing?"