In Dark Waters (8 page)

He set the picture down and scanned the record. Mabel was right. There wasn't much here. Donna had gotten in trouble when she was fourteen for stealing jewelry from the department store. A year later, Ruth filed charges against Donna for stealing money from her, but she later dropped the charges. A couple of drunk and disorderly charges followed and then nothing. Donna was trouble, but there was nothing here in the records to hint at a murder motive.

Mitch leaned back in his chair. Donna would have been about twenty when Kelsey was born. He searched his memory back to the days he and Kelsey had worked together at the scuba center.

He remembered the first time he'd really noticed Kelsey. It had been his first day working in the scuba shop one hot June morning. She'd been working behind the counter, laughing at a joke of Stu's. Her laughter had rung in his head like church bells. So he'd bought her a soda that afternoon and invited her to sit out back with him. She'd blushed deeply and hesitated before she'd agreed. She'd worn a blue tank top, white shorts and flip flops. He'd wanted to kiss her.

Instead, he'd asked her about herself. She'd dodged most of his questions. But she had told him that she'd been born in Richmond.
Richmond
. He wished now he'd had enough sense to press for answers. He wasn't sure what he could have done for her but he should have shown more interest.

Mitch shook off the memory.

He sent a telex to the Richmond City Police Department. He briefed them on the body that had been found and requested information on Donna Warren. Kelsey had said they'd lived in Los Angeles and Seattle so he telexed the police departments out there as well.

He didn't know where the Donna Warren trail would lead, but he was willing to follow it for Kelsey's sake. He owed her that much.

Mitch checked his watch. He'd left Kelsey over an hour ago.

He could get her car from the Yancey Motel and deliver it to her. Maybe on the way, he could pick up some Chinese food. She'd not eaten much at the diner and had to be hungry. "Or you could leave her the hell alone," he muttered to himself.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head throbbed.

What the devil was he thinking? He and Kelsey were oil and water. He was rooted to Grant's Forge and she'd be gone as soon as the investigation was complete.

They had no future together and, after seeing Ruth's house, he guessed she had more issues than a politician. Damn.

He should leave well enough alone.

He should.

But he didn't.

"Mabel, get Harris on the phone. I need a lift over to the Yancey Motel."

Kelsey heard the car pull into Ruth's driveway at half past seven. She let loose the garbage bag she'd been filling with old newspapers and walked to the front window to peer out. To her surprise, it was Mitch driving her car. Behind him in his car was a Grant's Forge cop and behind him another cop in a patrol car. She'd never expected Mitch to return so soon. His promptness was oddly touching.

Kelsey set the bag aside and walked out onto the front porch. Crickets hummed and moths darted around the front porch light. Mitch waved to the other officer, who climbed into the patrol car and drove off, and then strode toward the front porch. Carrying a large brown paper bag, he walked with the grace of a predator confident in his strength and skills. Her body tingled at the sight of him and she found herself wishing she'd brushed her hair.

"You got yourself a regular parade there, Sheriff," she said. Sarcasm seemed her best defense now.

Even white teeth flashed. "All I need is a whistle and a baton and I'll be all set."

She laughed. She could fall for this man very easily—again—and the idea frightened her. Why couldn't Mitch be thirty pounds overweight, balding, with a wife and three kids?

The cop climbed out of Mitch's car and into the one behind it. The officer behind the wheel tooted his horn and drove off. Mitch waved goodbye.

"So what's in the bag?" Her voice sounded a bit hoarse.

He paused at the bottom of the front porch, planting his foot on the second step. "Dinner. Seeing as lunch got nixed, I figured you were hungry."

The rich smells of ginger and chicken drifted from the bag. And on cue, her stomach grumbled.

She pressed her hand to her flat belly and despite her best efforts blushed with embarrassment.

"I see I'm just in time," he said.

"I appreciate the housecall, but I've got a lot of work to do in this place."

"A half hour won't make a difference with this place." He stared up at the house. His distaste for it was clear. "I still can't get over this place. From the outside, it looks to be in mint condition."

"Ruth was always concerned about appearances. She didn't want the neighbors talking ill of her."

He shook his head. "It's a nice night. Let's eat outside."

"Thanks but—"

"No buts." He sat down on the porch, staking his claim, and started to unpack an assortment of white takeout boxes. He also produced two cups full of hot tea. He held out a plastic fork to her. "I didn't know what you liked, so I got a little of everything."

He'd slept with her—taken her virginity—and he didn't know what kind of Chinese food she liked. The irony irritated her and seemed all the more reason to tell him to shove off.

However, Mitch Garrett wasn't going anywhere. She could push the matter, but the truth was she was hungry. She took the fork and sat down on the step.

The evening air was soft and the sky was filled with hundreds of stars. She inhaled, grateful not to smell any dust.

She chose the box filled with stir-fried vegetables and dug in. It tasted good.

Mitch chose the beef dish. "So you uncovered anything yet?"

"I got my room cleaned up. Sheets changed, dusted. Now, I'm working my way through the newspapers. She has papers that go back thirty years."

He poked around the vegetables, stabbed a piece of beef and ate it. "I've got a couple of nephews, they're fourteen. Mouthy, but hardworking. I'll send them over tomorrow."

"That's very kind, but no thanks." Her debt to him was mounting too fast as it was.

"Why not?"

"I'm not good at accepting help, if you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed." He rooted through the white box for more beef. "What's wrong with taking a little help?"

"Strings. Help always comes with strings?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "No strings, Kelsey. Just being neighborly."

"No easing any old guilt?" There, it was out.

"No."

The curt response confirmed her suspicions. "You do feel guilty."

"We were young."

She set down her box, her appetite suddenly gone. "But you believe you should have known better. Good and perfect Mitch Garrett slept with a troubled, teenaged virgin, broke her heart and it still eats at him." She heard the bitterness in her voice and it made her even madder.

"Kelsey," he said lowering his voice, "if I had known, I never would have slept with you."

She hated pity more than debt. "You just thought I knew the ropes." She shrugged, hoping he didn't notice the trembling in her hands. "Why shouldn't you? Like mother, like daughter, right?"

"I misjudged you."

"It was a long time ago." So why did the pain still linger?

He met her gaze and, almost against her will, held it. "We should talk about it."

"Look, it's been a real long day." As she stood, a dull ache began to pound in the back of her head. At the rate she was going, she'd have a full-blown migraine soon. "I'm tired. Thanks for dinner."

She didn't dare look at him as she walked inside the house and closed the massive front door. For a moment, her knees wobbled and she couldn't walk. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She heard Mitch pack up. His purposeful steps thudded on the front porch toward the door. He rang the bell. "Kelsey, let me in."

Every muscle in her body tensed. She didn't move, holding her breath until she heard him mutter an oath, turn and leave.

Kelsey exhaled. As much as she'd wanted to find her mother these last ten years, she prayed now that the body in the quarry wasn't Donna. Not knowing what had happened to Donna had been painful, but facing the past was excruciating.

Maybe Mitch and everyone else were right. Maybe the body didn't belong to Donna. She was the consummate survivor. A cockroach.

Late Monday afternoon, Mitch got the preliminary report back from the pathologist. The body was that of a woman in her early forties who was about five feet seven inches tall. The victim had endured several fractures, one on her face, one on her wrist and another on her ring finger on her right hand. The fractures had happened over the years and had healed with varying degrees of success. The victim hadn't had access to good medical care. The victim, judging by tooth decay, had been an addict.

Though no positive ID could be made until Donna's dental records had been examined, the evidence indicated that the body was Donna Warren.

There was another bit of information the autopsy had revealed. The victim had been murdered. According to the report, the victim had sustained a gunshot wound to the chest. The buckshot had shattered the left ribcage, most likely tearing directly into the heart muscle. She'd died instantly.

The fact that he now officially had a murder on his hands changed everything. He'd have to get the underwater crews back. The quarry and the woods around the upper lip of the quarry would have to be searched for evidence. Time had probably eradicated most of the evidence, but the search would occur nonetheless.

Mitch leaned back in his office chair. His first thought was of Kelsey. This information wouldn't sit well with her. After last night, his sloppy reminder of their past had shaken her fragile hold on serenity. He had wanted to clear the air but had only managed to muck things up more.

His phone buzzed and a green light blinked as Mabel's voice shot through the phone. "Mitch?"

"Yep?"

"The pathologist is on line one."

"Thanks."

Mitch's hand hovered over the black phone. He snatched it up. "Dave."

"Hey, Mitch." Dr. Dave Wilder had been a pathologist with the state for almost thirty years. He saw mostly accidents, but had handled hundreds of murders.

"What you got for me?"

"The body is definitely Donna Warren. I just reviewed the dental records. Granted, the victim's teeth were badly damaged, but I had a set of X-rays from a checkup Donna had had about twenty-seven years ago. They show a distinct overbite, two cavities on the back left molar and a chip on the front left incisor."

His first thought was for Kelsey. "Any other signs of trauma?"

"No skeletal signs. I can tell you that she was shot at close range. Less than five feet, maybe."

"Someone she knew." He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud.

Dave chuckled. "That's for you to find out. I've got more tests to run and if I come up with anything unexpected, I'll give you a call."

"Thanks, Dave." Mitch hung up the phone. He rose and walked to the small window. The sky was crystal-blue.

There was a knock at his door. He turned to see Mabel standing just inside his office, her yellow pad in hand. "Mitch?"