The Exhumation Read online

  ‘Looking for this?’

  Light poured down from the ceiling. Darnell squinted to adjust his sight. Before him was his nemesis. He was a white skinhead with large tattooed arms, exposed through a tank top which barely covered his torso. He stood next to the light switch, his hand still over it. In his other hand was a gun.

  ‘Chuck Cunningham.’

  ‘We meet at last, Detective Jackson! It’s been short but sweet.’

  Cunningham pulled the trigger and the bullet blasted into Darnell’s stomach. He curled over and lay at the bottom of the stairs as blood gushed from the wound. The fleeting fugitive jumped over Darnell’s body and ran out of a fire escape.

  Darnell survived that day despite his intestines pouring out onto Cunningham’s cold stone floor. Since then he’d had a colostomy bag attached to his belly and his nerves were severely shaken. He returned to work much sooner than advised but he needed to take his mind off the trauma of that day and the guilt that he carried for leading his nephew to his death. If he could ever forgive himself, his sister certainly wouldn’t. She hadn’t spoken to him since.

  Since that day his work had suffered. He over-thought every decision and his nerves got the better of him, which led to clumsy mistakes. Now, as he stood before this two-storey brick fortress in Champaign’s suburbia, he once again worried over his decision to burst into the house.

  ‘We’re waiting, Detective Jackson.’ his radio called.

  He took a deep breath and looked over the array of shrubbery, beautifully presented outside of the house, which he’d been informed was Chuck Cunningham’s latest address. He was surprised by how green-fingered he’d become, but drug lords would do anything for their reputation. This house looked no different from the other suburban retreats which neighboured the detective’s own home.

  ‘Go for it.’

  The officers broke down the door and stormed the house. What was left of his digestive system gurgled. He waited patiently from his car for feedback on the raid. Within minutes, an officer returned with a woman in tow, wrapped in a towel. She was no bigger than five feet, a frail skinny little thing, and whatever colour she’d had in her face had been drained as the officer’s gun pressed into her back.

  ‘Who is this?’ Darnell quizzed. He looked to his notes; he hadn’t been briefed about any other residents living with Cunningham. She looked too old to be his girlfriend, nearly twice his age. Was she perhaps his mother or his aunt?

  ‘We found her in the shower, sir.’

  ‘May I have your name please, ma’am?’ Jackson probed the trembling lady.

  ‘I’m Rebecca Fortune. What have I done?’ she replied with a quiver in her voice. Her chest convulsed and she shivered within the cold November breeze. The Land of Lincoln had beautiful summers but bitter winters, and the air was beginning to turn; they could already smell the arrival of the imminent snow.

  ‘Do you live at this address?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a whimper in her voice. ‘I’ve lived here for twelve years. What is going on? What have I done?’

  ‘Do you know a Chuck Cunningham?’

  The lady nodded her head slowly, trying not to alarm the armed officer to her right.

  ‘Yeah, he lives next door.’

  Darnell lowed his head and waved his arm to the officer, encouraging him to lower his weapon. He held his head in his hands as he absorbed yet another mistake before turning to his team.

  ‘You heard the woman. He’s next door. Go, go, go!’

  The officers left the half-naked woman in Darnell’s company, who took off his jacket, wrapped it around her and escorted her into her home, profusely apologising for the mistake. He filled the coffee machine with beans, while she ran upstairs to get dressed. Within minutes an officer returned to the house.

  ‘He’s gone, sir,’ the police officer confirmed. ‘He must have heard us and escaped out of the back.’

  ‘Shit! Boy, am I in trouble.’

  *

  An hour later Darnell returned to the station, where he was called in for a meeting with his manager. Commander Larry Hill had a face of thunder as his subordinate entered his office. Hill was a big man with a wide bald head, drooping red jowls and piercing grey eyes, which Darnell swore could see through people. It was hard to believe that his superior once walked the Springfield streets chasing criminals, as now all he ran for was his take-out delivery, but that’s a fate which befell all officers as soon as they entered office jobs.

  Darnell had faced some of the most dangerous criminals in the world, but no one scared him as much as his boss. His booming voice carried and everyone knew about it if you were in trouble; they could hear him shouting on the other side of the precinct. They used to say you could hear Commander Hill before you saw him and he was true to form as Detective Jackson entered his office.

  ‘So I hear you’ve let the team down once again, Jackson. Cunningham is nowhere to be seen and we’ve upset some fifty-year-old housewife on Prospect Street. I sincerely hope this doesn’t end up in the papers for your sake, Jackson.’

  Darnell responded with a silent nod.

  ‘What the hell happened down there?’

  ‘I was given some bad intelligence, sir. My notes clearly say its number forty-five, not forty-seven.’

  ‘The only bad intelligence round here is yours, Jackson.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Darnell asked, squinting as he considered his bleak future.

  ‘I’m taking you off local projects for now. You can say goodbye to catching Chuck Cunningham. That dream is over.’ Darnell sighed and lowered his head. ‘I wouldn’t be too disappointed, however, I’ve put you on a national assignment.’

  ‘A national assignment. With all due respect, how could this be, sir?’

  ‘It was at the request of the State Senator. He remembered you after you uncovered the assassination plot on the President. He hasn’t heard about your mishaps since, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.’

  ‘Isn’t this a case for the FBI, sir? If it’s a national case…’ Darnell probed.

  ‘Do you want this case or not?’

  ‘Well, what does it involve?’

  ‘I will tell you but first you need to sign this.’

  Out of his briefcase, Hill took out a form, which had Non-Disclosure Agreement stamped across the top. The contract was titled Project Oak Ridge; enclosed was a list of people who had signed it and thus with whom the case could be discussed. There were only a handful of names on the sheet, with only his manager’s name which he recognised. Darnell took a pen and signed the bottom of the page.

  ‘Right, well now the admin is over, let’s get into the detail of the case. Basically there was a break-in at Oak Ridge Cemetery in the early hours of the morning. A body was exhumed and has been missing since.’

  Darnell wrote notes on his pad as he took in the detail, but stopped as soon as he considered the thought of a rotting corpse being removed from its grave. He shivered.

  ‘That’s fine, sir, albeit an unusual case, but why is this case top secret? And why is the State Senator involved?’

  ‘Because it is the identity of the body which brings us the real problem. It could cause a national outcry if this gets out.’ Hill took a deep breath before revealing more to his colleague. ‘The body which is missing belongs to Abraham Lincoln.’

  Chapter 2

  Darnell Jackson had visited Oak Ridge Cemetery numerous times in his lifetime. As a child, his school had brought him to the site on educational trips as they followed the story of Abraham Lincoln. Springfield, Illinois was a diamond for American history as Lincoln’s former home, state office and law office all resided in the state capital. A museum, biographical trails and actors all told the story of the man who was generally seen as one of the greatest presidents that the United States had ever seen.

  On a more personal level, Darnell had brought his own family to the site, but his reasons for ensuring that his offspring knew of Lincoln’s story went
far beyond the educational benefits which his biography carried. He had a far deeper relationship with the former president than most people knew about, instilled in him from his great-grandfather whose grandparents had been slaves. His grandfather three times removed, Abram, was killed in the civil War, fighting for the civil rights of his family and descendants. His wife, Sojourner, was left pregnant, but she was widowed a free woman as Lincoln led the Union army to victory.

  Thanks to Lincoln, as well as other historic figures, Darnell’s whole family had enjoyed full free lives and he praised the former leader every day for his impact on their civil rights. The detective made it his life’s work to ensure that those surrounding him knew of the miracles that the former president performed. He had broken down barriers and opened the doors to equality which Darnell enjoyed today.

  The grave itself was constructed of granite, with a rectangular base surmounted by an obelisk. A statue of Lincoln stood proudly before it. A circular concrete wall surrounded it, and spiral steps led down into an underground tomb where further headstones for the wider Lincoln family stood.

  As he stood before the obelisk, Darnell was hit with the reality of what had occurred earlier that morning. He was joined by Vanessa Jamison who had recently been made detective despite only being in the force for four years. She had fast-tracked her career and jumped up the ladder faster than a monkey climbing a redwood. She was of average height, had dark red hair which flowed down to her shoulders and freckled youthful skin. A bright red polka-dot dress with a blue jacket was wrapped around her curvy figure and showed off her ghostly white legs. Red lipstick was applied further than her lip-line and her fake eyelashes curled up towards her eyebrows.

  Darnell shook his head as he was introduced to the woman whom he’d been paired with on the case, wondering how this dolly bird, twenty years his junior without any prior police experience, could possibly offer any useful support to finding their former leader’s body.

  ‘How did you end up on the case?’ Darnell asked, trying to sound interested rather than judgemental.

  ‘My dad works in the White House and knows President Obama,’ she replied. She lifted out her bag and glanced into her pocket-mirror, rubbing the lipstick off her teeth. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I once saved the President’s life. Money and connections won’t get you everywhere in this life, Vanessa,’ Darnell sneered.

  ‘Well no, but my degree in American history, my Masters in criminal psychology and my PD in the American Civil War might just come in handy,’ Vanessa replied with a smug smile. ‘What is it you bring?’

  ‘Well first of all, thirty years of experience. The CCTV doesn’t show anything suspicious, which indicates that whoever did this knew the park and where the cameras were. I want the two gentlemen on security that night grilled and background checks on all security past and present.’

  ‘How far do you want to go back?’ Vanessa quizzed. ‘It was built in 1855. Three quarters of their former employees won’t even be alive anymore.’

  ‘Well how long do you think we’ve had security cameras for? That might help. Honestly all you young people today, you might have your degrees but you have little sense. That comes with experience.’

  ‘I might not have your experience, Detective Jackson, but I hoped I’d bring some fresh blood and ideas to the case. I thought we could learn off each other.’

  ‘You ain’t got shit that I don’t know already. I know all about Lincoln. Believe me, I’ve lived here my whole life, I’ve spent more time in the Lincoln Museum than Lincoln’s top hat has. Go on, try me, try telling me something I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find something along the way.’ Vanessa rolled her eyes.

  ‘Anyway I doubt we’ll need your history degree. This is a clear cut ransom case through and through. We need to find criminals, not historians.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ Vanessa stroked her chin. ‘The date they chose to do this shows this could be potentially more than random. Whoever did this knows their stuff.’

  ‘Why, what’s so special about today?’ Darnell lifted his wrist and looked over the date listed on his black leather Rolex watch. The date displayed was November seventh. He ran through his Rolodex of Lincoln trivia in his mind; born February twelfth, died April fifteenth. Nothing of substantial importance came to mind.

  ‘You mean you don’t know? I thought you knew everything about Lincoln.’ Vanessa looked her colleague up and down, placed a hand on her waist and leaned to her side, before strutting off towards an educational post at the back end of the headstone. The heels from her shoes dug into the ground, forcing her to tug herself out of the turf. Darnell hovered behind, sniggering at her inappropriate attire.

  ‘Come on then, share your wisdom.’ Darnell rolled his eyes and followed her. As he got to the signpost, she raised her hand over a paragraph which he’d never come across in all his years of visiting the grave.

  ‘Today is the 136th anniversary of the first attempt to steal Lincoln’s body. Back then they weren’t as successful as they were today. They hadn’t come readily prepared and two undercover police informers snitched on them. Whoever did this knew this date, so I would start there. I think somebody is trying to send us a message.’

  ‘I think you’re jumping to conclusions. It could just totally be a coincidence. Look at the time of year. There is a reason why it’s the perfect time to steal a body. The presidential election is taking place just as we speak, just as it would’ve been back then. The eyes of the world are on Obama and Romney fighting for the White House. It would be easy to break into anywhere while nobody is paying attention.’

  ‘You could be onto something there.’ Vanessa thought over Darnell’s argument. He perked up as she appeared to agree with him. ‘It could be politically motivated. Maybe a Republican is trying to prevent Obama from landing a second term in the White House?’

  ‘Lincoln was a Republican.’

  ‘I know that, you idiot, but Obama is the prime example of what Lincoln was rooting for. Equality for all. There could be someone in the works trying to get Obama to give up a seat, which he only has because Lincoln gave him the opportunity to. Even if it’s nothing to do with equality, failing to safeguard the body of one of the greatest presidents of all time would be humiliating for Obama. People would lose trust in him.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’ Darnell chuckled. ‘First things first, the people involved here are obviously smart. They have managed to shift a body through one of America’s most secure locations. This person knows what they are doing and knows they’ll need more than this to get the President out of his seat. You need a significant scandal to land something like that, like an affair or drug abuse, but even Bill and George survived that kind of behaviour. No, you’ll need to cook up something more than a political scandal to solve this, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well it’s early days, at least I’m coming up with ideas. What have you got?’ Vanessa snapped. She was exhausted, having been flown into the city from DC earlier in the morning for a twilight brief, where she was offered the keys to a rented property to stay whilst on the case, before being rushed to her assignment.

  ‘I think it’s a ransom case through and through. These cases always are. I’ve been in this game for thirty years, believe me, it’s always money they’re after. We just have to wait for them to make first contact to negotiate a deal. In the meantime, we need to build a profile of the suspects, which is why I need a list of current and past employees. Now can you get those for me please?’

  ‘You know you could just ask me. I don’t need you to shout at me. This isn’t the army, Detective Jackson.’

  ‘You millennials with your wishy-washy discipline styles. Ooh I need to be inspired. In my day you did what you were told.’

  ‘By whom? My manager? Well that isn’t you, Detective Jackson. I’m reporting to Commander Hill just like you are. We’re peers on this case and don’t you forget it.’

  She strutted d
own into the tomb and into a semi-circular room with a marble square headstone and an American flag behind it. Darnell followed behind, surprised and secretly impressed by his new colleague’s feistiness. Beside the headstone, a large hole gave the detectives an insight into how the body was stolen. Rubble was spread across the vestibule and detectives covered their mouths against the floating dust.

  ‘How did they manage to cause such a mess without being heard? There is marble and concrete down here, they must have used power-tools to break through the stone.’ Vanessa scratched her head, attempting to piece the plot together.

  ‘It must have been an inside job. I told you. We need to talk to those boys who were on duty last night as soon as possible. Get them down to the station. Christ, if anyone drilled down here last night, the corpses themselves would’ve woken up with all that drilling, and yet those two clowns didn’t hear anything?’

  The detectives chuckled, imagining a scene out of Thriller. They walked around and took some notes whilst a team of CSI specialists took photographs and swabs of the area. The detectives, confident that they had enough to get on with, left the scene of the crime and walked towards the entrance of the cemetery. A crowd of frustrated tourists queued at the gates.

  ‘What’s going on? I promised my kids we’d see Lincoln. I travelled all this way to see the damn place is closed,’ a mother with three kids shouted from the gate with a southern accent. She held on to the bars and forced her head through the space in between. ‘I want answers. We’ve travelled from New Orleans to be here today.’

  Darnell turned to his colleague. Neither were dressed in uniform and they’d ensured anyone official arriving on site did so in unmarked vehicles. They looked towards the tourist information hut, which sat at the entrance. The lady behind the desk shrugged her shoulders and turned to the detectives for answers.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’ Vanessa stepped forward towards the tourist. ‘We’re having some renovation work done in the park today. Unfortunately we’ll be closed for the next few days.’