In Dark Waters (5 page)

Jeff slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat back before starting the engine. He backed the car out of the parking area. Only when the car was out of sight did she turn and walk back toward Mitch. "Stu was always so full of life. I never figured he'd get old."

"He's got a lot of life left in him." The concern in Mitch's voice yanked at her heart. "Stu cares a lot about you."

His kindness threatened to shatter her shaky composure. "Do me a favor. Don't be nice to me. I don't trust
nice
. Whether it was Donna, the social workers or you,
nice
always signaled trouble—the rent wasn't paid, a stint in a foster home was coming or you didn't know what to do with an emotional, love-struck teenager."

His jaw tightened, released. "When's the last time you ate? Your skin is pasty and there are dark circles under your eyes."

She managed a shaky grin. "There, that's more like it."

Shaking his head, he strode to his car and grabbed a thermos from behind the seat and a pack of Nabs from a cooler. He opened the red cap, poured coffee into a cup and handed it to her.

She stared into the steaming cup. "Thanks."

He tore open the packet of crackers. "Sorry, no cream and sugar."

Warmth from the hot cup seeped into her cold fingers. "Black's fine."

He handed her an orange square cracker. "I can still have one of my men drive you."

Kelsey sipped her coffee. Good. She ate the cracker. To her relief, her stomach settled immediately. "I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who killed Donna."

Her comment caught him off guard. "Why would you think your mother was murdered?"

Kelsey fingered the cross that dangled from the chain around her neck. "Because of the company she kept. Petty thieves. Shoplifters. A few addicts."

Mitch shoved out a sigh. "When I talked to Stu earlier, he said she seemed on edge those last couple of days she was in town. What do you remember about those last days?"

"She kept talking about the money she was coming into. She said once she was done with her business here, we'd be set for life. No more traveling. A real home. I didn't pay any attention because Donna had said it all before."

Mitch shook his head. "Did she say where the money was coming from?"

"No. For once she was very quiet about her plans. She wasn't even drinking much those last couple of days. I could tell because her hands trembled when she lit her cigarettes."

Mitch stared at the quarry. "Stu talked about Donna from time to time. He said he always figured she'd end up a movie star or married to a rich man."

Her mouth curved in a half smile. "She had a talent for getting under a man's skin. Stu was in love with her. They dated pretty seriously in high school. He was the one person in town who kept up with Donna. And no matter how nasty she could be, he never had a bad thing to say about her to me."

"What happened with them?"

"She left Stu for a richer man."

"Your father?"

"Maybe. I don't know." She sipped her coffee.

"You don't know who your father is?" His words were clipped.

Donna had never told Kelsey who her father was, no matter how much she'd begged. Not knowing had fueled her dreams of finding her father who she hoped would one day find her and make everything better. One day never came. "Not all of us have the
Leave It to Beaver
life."

Her comment had a bite to it that he hadn't missed. "Children deserve a home." He spoke softly, but there was steel behind each word.

The image of a home—a real house with a front porch and a yard—had been another one of her dreams when she'd been a child. She'd given up on fairy tales a long time ago.

Unsettled, she took a step away from him. Mitch Garrett was not going to let her feel sorry for herself. "So, do you moonlight with social services?"

His dark glasses tossed back her reflection, but she imagined his eyes had hardened. "Do you always have a smart answer for everything?"

She shrugged. "On my good days."

He muttered an oath. "You haven't changed a bit."

She shoved aside memories and regrets. "I'm not a naive eighteen-year-old anymore, Sheriff."

His broad shoulders stiffened. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Good to know she wasn't the only one who felt awkward.

The sound of car wheels crunching against gravel sounded from the road tore his attention from her.

"That's the hearse," Mitch said, his voice brusque.

"You're not going to bring the car up?"

"Not for now. We're bringing the body up. I've got to go down to the quarry for a minute. Stay put. I want you where I can see you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

A large black car parked at the edge of the parking lot. Mitch left her to meet the driver. Once the stretcher and body bag was out of the car, the two men walked down to the edge of the water.

Mitch signaled the policeman in the skiff, who in turn radioed down to the divers as he drove the flat-bottomed boat to the quarry's shore. The driver took the bag from Mitch and drove back out to the middle of the quarry. A diver appeared from under the water and took the bag.

Mitch strode back toward her. Sunlight reflected on his aviator sunglasses. He stood next to her in silence.

She hugged her arms around her chest as she stared at all the police and rescue men.

The divers surfaced and gave the thumbs-up. A body bag rose to the surface. Water bubbles gurgled to the surface. The divers hooked the black bag to the side of the boat. It floated by the boat.

Kelsey's stomach tightened. She felt sick.

Mitch glanced at her. His frown deepened. "We'll stay back here while the men do their work."

"Okay."

He raised an eyebrow. "No argument?"

She couldn't even manage a weak smile. "Sorry, fresh out. Maybe tomorrow."

The boat's motor hummed as the skiff moved closer to shore. Minutes passed slowly.

Mitch yanked off his sunglasses. "You look like you're going to pass out."

She wanted to throw up. "I'm fine."

The boat skidded against the rocky shore. Two other officers took the body bag. A cop opened the zipper a fraction so that the water could drain. He met Mitch's gaze and nodded as if to confirm what they'd seen earlier.

None of this felt real.

Suddenly Kelsey broke into a full run toward the bag. She shouldered her way past the police and looked into the sack. A thick mossy smell drifted up as the water drained. In the bag was the skeleton.

Years of hoping and worrying exploded. Suddenly, her head started spinning. Her mother really hadn't abandoned her. Her mother had died.

Mitch laid his hand on her shoulder. Warmth and strength radiated into her. She remembered a time when his strong arms had wrapped around her body and, for a few precious hours, she had felt safe and secure.

His voice was low and soft next to her ear. "Let's get out of here."

Kelsey climbed into the front cab of Mitch's Suburban and shut the door. She soaked up the sun's warmth trapped in the leather seats, A chill shuddered through her body. She'd never been so cold before.

Mitch slid into the driver's seat beside her, put the keys in the ignition and started the car. Silent, he drove down the gravel drive toward the main road. The wooded landscape skidded by in a blur of green. When gravel met pavement, Mitch paused, checked for traffic and then turned left onto the highway. Billboards and vegetable stands dotted the roadside before giving way to gas stations and then strip malls as they neared town.

Grant's Forge was over one hundred and fifty years old. It had seen Civil War battles, the loss of the rail lines and in the 1970s, the flight of businesses to the outlying strip malls. By the early 1980s, the town's buildings were run-down and in danger of demolition. Then several prominent ladies in town took it upon themselves to revitalize the dying historic center. Timed with the Washington, D.C. real estate explosion, the crumbling buildings quickly found a second life as host to tony shops and restaurants that catered to the busy urbanites looking for weekend getaways. The town was described as "an idyllic spot, a gold mine of history and amusements reminiscent of days gone by" in
Traveler
magazine.

To Kelsey, Grant's Forge conjured up memories she'd just as soon forget.

The sun glinted off the face of Mitch's gold wristwatch, drawing her gaze to his long fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. She remembered those hands on her body.

Memories.

There'd been a time when she'd shared so much with this man—her hopes, her dreams, her body—but now he was a stranger. And she'd never felt more alone and isolated.

Kelsey caught herself. Quiet moments like these gave her time to brood and were always her undoing. She usually went out of her way to fill the silence, often working seven days a week, ten hours a day.

"So how long have you been back in Grant's Forge?" she asked. A dumb question, but it was better than silence.

Mitch glanced at her, surprised she'd spoken. He relaxed a fraction, as if he, too, wasn't comfortable with the quiet. "Three years."

Her bracelets rattled as she brushed her hair off her face. "What brought you back?"

His expression remained stoic. "Dad had a bad heart attack. It really shook us all up. I decided my days of traveling were over. It was time to come home."

The Garretts had always been close. Many times, she'd envied them. The fact that Mitch was from a tight-knit family had been one of the things she'd once found attractive about him. "Stu said something in one of his letters about marriage." The idea that Mitch was married irritated.

"Alexandra didn't go for the small-town life."

Alexandra
. Sounded rich, expensive, spoiled—the exact opposite of her. Everything she had today she'd gotten by sweating and scraping. "She left?" Kelsey hated the hopefulness in her voice.

"We divorced two years ago." Under his simply spoken words, she sensed tension and anger. His parents' marriage was rock-solid and his divorce likely hadn't sat well with him.

"Sorry." She didn't feel all that
sorry
but didn't know what else to say.

Mitch turned right onto Main Street and headed into the historic district. "It happens."

He drove past all the fashionable row houses filled with high end stores and a trendy coffee house.

"You can drop me at Yancey's Motel. I've got a room there." She'd not been able to bring herself to stay at her aunt's house. More bad memories.

"Let's stop by the Third Street Diner and get a bite to eat first."

Her stomach tightened at the thought of food. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Sunlight glinted off his sunglasses as he shot her a quick look. "You need to eat."

He'd always been good at giving orders. "I'm a better judge of that than you."

"Doubtful."

"You're a pain in the ass, Garrett," Kelsey said. She folded her arms over her chest.

A grin tugged the edge of his mouth. "Glad to see I haven't lost my touch."

The Third Street Diner was at the edge of the historic district. A throwback to the 1950s, the diner hadn't been renovated like the other establishments. It stubbornly clung to the small-town way of life Grant's Forge had once enjoyed. The diner's bright chrome caught the afternoon light. The
R
in Third blinked slower and out of time with the rest of the blue and green neon letters.