In Dark Waters (13 page)

She glanced over his shoulder at the tarp-wrapped body lying on the beach. An odd sensation tickled the back of her neck. "At least it's not Chris."

Her relief lasted until she looked up toward the ridge. Uneasiness settled in her bones. "I saw a flash of light on the ridge while you were in the water. Did you have a policeman up there?" She wasn't sure why she mentioned it to Mitch. Maybe she wanted him to tell her not to worry so she could convince herself that her imagination had just gotten the better of her.

Frowning, his gaze shifted to the ridge. "There were no policemen up there."

"I thought I saw someone up on the ridge watching me. Must have been my imagination."

Mitch continued to stare up at the ridge, guiding Kelsey toward his car. "Give me a second." He reached for his radio. "Ruth?"

After a pause, "Yeah, boss."

"Do we have anyone available to ride up to the north ridge of the quarry and have a look around?"

Kelsey felt color rise in her cheeks. "Mitch," she whispered, "this really isn't necessary. It was probably my imagination."

He winked at her. "Doesn't hurt to look."

The radio crackled with Ruth's voice, "George is free and is now on his way."

"Great. Have him call me when he's done a walkover."

"Will do."

Mitch replaced the radio. "Let me change and we can head back to town."

She glanced up toward the north ridge. No lights flashed. No leaves rustled. "I felt like a fool for even saying anything."

"Don't sweat it."

Few people had ever taken Kelsey seriously when she'd lived in Grant's Forge. But Mitch had. Even in the old days, he'd listened to her rattle on about her dreams and he had encouraged her to reach for them. It was just one more reason why she'd fallen in love with him.

And why she could again if she wasn't careful.

She walked away from the Suburban while he changed. He needed privacy, and she needed distance. She jabbed her fingers through her hair.

The guy takes her seriously and she goes all weak in the knees. She reminded herself that other men who'd known her professionally had also taken her seriously—
because
she was smart and only spoke when she had something to say.

She glanced over at Mitch as he toweled off his face.

Love.

This could not be happening again.

It would not happen.

Kelsey didn't see or hear from Mitch over the next three days. She was glad for the break. The distance gave her a chance to steady her shaky emotions and to get her balance back.

Donna's body had still not been released for burial, so she spent the time cleaning Ruth's house. She spoke to her magazine editor once and, against her better judgment, turned down an assignment in Bali.

Each day, the boys showed up after school, cleaned with her for a few hours and then hauled away the mountains of paper Ruth had collected over the years. Kelsey had worked hard on the house and by week's end, the downstairs had been stripped of the clutter.

So far, she'd found nothing to tell her anything about Donna. She tossed stacks of newspapers, the box of utility bills that dated back to the 1950s, and more phone books than she'd ever seen, even in the New York Public Library.

The work was good for her. She felt a sense of accomplishment and triumph with each garbage bag she dragged out of the house.

On the fourth day, she was even feeling like she'd kicked this miniobsession she had for Mitch Garrett. She only thought about him two or three times a day, instead of six or seven as she had on the first day. And she was only a little put out by the fact that he hadn't called.

When her cell phone rang unexpectedly, she was in the den. The cell was in the kitchen. She vaulted over two boxes, sprinted down the hallway and banged her knee on the kitchen table as she answered the phone on the fifth ring.

"Hello," she said breathless.

"Kelsey," Stu said.

She allowed a tiny bit of disappointment before she shrugged it off. Okay, no Mitch. What did she care? "Stu, how are you?"

"Chris still hasn't turned up." Worry coated each word.

"What's it been, five days?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"No word from the police?"

"They haven't found a trace of him. I've checked all the hospitals in the state and no one has seen him."

"That's a good sign, right?"

"I suppose."

She reached for a cup of coffee left over from breakfast. "Chris is known to take off, Stu."

"Not like this."

She took a sip. The coffee was cold. "Hey, why don't we meet for dinner? We could go into town and I'll treat you to dinner at that Italian place you used to like. It's still there, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's still there, but we'll never get close to town tonight."

She set the coffee down. "Why?"

"It's Memorial Weekend, Kelsey." He sounded as if he was talking to a small child.

"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that."

"They block the streets off. Bands play and the police department sets off fireworks."

"The police department" was code for Mitch Garrett, no doubt. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Stu if Mitch was going to be there, but she held off. What did it matter who set off the fireworks?

"Yeah, I went to one of those parties years ago." Ruth had known everyone in town and had always had a blast, but Kelsey had never felt right there. She didn't belong around real families. "Well, maybe you could come by here and I could cook you supper. I make a mean Thai dish."

He hesitated. "We should go to the festival."

She stepped out the back door, needing fresh air. She leaned against the round wood column and stared up at the brilliantly blue sky. "I don't know, Stu. I'm not one for crowds."

"It would do us both good to get out and stop moping about our problems."

The edge of sadness in his voice was what got her. She couldn't say no when he was so worried and feeling so lost. "Could we go early?" And miss the crowds.

"How about six?" His voice sounded a little lighter.

She dug her fingernail under a chipping piece of paint on the column and flicked it off. Damn. "Six it is," she said brightly. "How about I meet you at the Town Square Cafe?"

Stu laughed. "It's not an execution, Kelsey. It'll be fun."

"Right."

"See you at the square."

She hung up to the sound of Stu chuckling. She picked another piece of paint, and then another off the column before she caught herself. At the rate she was going she'd have the back porch stripped by dinner.

Six o'clock. That gave her three hours. Three hours to shift through more papers, shower and worry if she was going to run into Mitch.

Kelsey spent more time choosing an outfit for the picnic than she had buying her first camera. In the end, she chose to go simple—jeans, a white cotton shirt and black slides. She skipped her bracelets and pulled her hair back, thinking it made her look more conservative. And then she caught herself. Why was she trying to fit in with these people? She brushed out her hair. Rebellion simmering in her veins, she put on her bracelets and added a couple of extras for good measure. She considered a mock nose ring but decided that was too over the top. Besides, the darn thing pinched.

Traffic would be a crush, so she opted to walk the nine blocks into town. She grabbed her digital camera and put fresh batteries in it. It made no sense to photograph anything today, but habits were a hard thing to break. Her camera was her safety blanket.

She locked her front door. As she moved across the front porch, she spotted a lovely white bag with a pink ribbon wrapped around it. At first, she thought Jeff or Rick had left her something. Jeff had confessed yesterday that Rick had a crush on her. Curious and oddly touched, she picked it up. She untied the ribbon and draped it carefully over the porch rail.

Inside the bag was an old Kewpie doll, not bigger than the size of her palm. The doll's blond wavy hair had been chopped off and its eyes had been blacked out with a magic marker. She flipped the doll over. Scribbled on the doll's back were the words
Go Away
.

A chill snaked up her spine.

This was no gift.

Kelsey looked in the bag to see if her "admirer" had left a note. There was none.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, just as they had at the quarry when she'd seen the flash of light. She glanced up and looked around, half expecting someone to be standing close by staring at her. No one was there.

"If you think I'm spooked," she said in a clear voice, "I'm not."

Kelsey shoved the doll into the bag along with the ribbon and walked around the side of the house to the trash can. She tossed it all away. "The last thing I need is a smart-ass prankster."

Rubbing trembling hands over her hips, she backed away from the trash can. Her heart hammered against her ribs and the bit of excitement she'd had moments ago for the picnic had vanished. If not for Stu, she'd have skipped the festival and gone to a movie.

She arrived at the square pavilion at five minutes after six. The nine-block walk had gone a long way to calming her nerves, but she was still rattled.

Stu stood out front, wearing his blue Hawaiian shirt, white Bermudas and flip-flops.

"Aloha," she said, approaching with the brightest smile she could conjure up.

Stu grinned. "Aloha to you" He glanced down at the tangle of bracelets on her arm. "You could pick up radio signals with those things."

She lifted her bracelet up to her mouth. "Beam me up, Scotty."

His belly laugh reminded her of the old Stu. "Nope, you're not getting out of this picnic. I plan to show you off."

"Me?"

"Sure. You're my little girl." He blushed. "At least, I've always thought about you that way."

Her throat tightened with unexpected tears and for a moment she couldn't speak, much less come up with a smart remark to bail her out. "I wish you had been my father."

His eyes softened. He hugged her. "Me, too."

She cleared her throat. "Okay, stop. I don't want to cry."

Stu grinned. "Hey look, there's Mitch."

She glanced up a little too quickly and saw him over by the Dixieland band. He was wearing his uniform and talking to Tammy Fox.

Crap. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Mitch glanced up and for a moment his gaze locked onto hers. A restlessness stirred inside, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff.
Danger, Will Robinson! Danger
!

But like a deer caught in headlights, she could do nothing but stare back.

Tammy said something that jerked his attention away. Reluctantly, he looked away from her.

Kelsey turned away. She felt breathless, as if she'd run six miles. "Stu, let's head across to the other side of the park where the exhibits are."

Stu looked over at Mitch and then at her. "You mean away from Mitch."

"Don't push me, old man. I'm small, but I could take you," she grumbled.

He laughed. "Not on your best day."

The two wound their way through the park, toward the exhibits. The last time Kelsey had been to the fair, the exhibits had been on card tables set up by local farmers who displayed homemade jams, breads and crafts. Now, neat rows of large white tents with laser-printed signs were filled with trendy artisans and their work.

She pulled out her camera and started to snap pictures. There was something very quaint and fairytale-like about this festival. She could think of several style magazines that might be interested in the pictures. Underwater shots were her specialty, but it never hurt to try new things.

"Grant's Forge is coming up in the world," Kelsey said as she stopped in front of a potter's booth.

"We have a professional crew from D.C. come in and set it all up."

"When did this all change?"

"Seven or eight years ago, when Sylvia Randall became the chairman of the fair committee. She said folks in Washington like the country charm of our products but what they really wanted was to buy art. She opened up the fair to artisans in the region. We're a genuine art show now. Sylvia got us written up in the
Washington Post
last year—big spread in the Style section."

Kelsey moved to a booth filled with Quaker-style baskets. "Looks like it's a hit."

"Our revenue tripled since we changed our format."

"The jams and jellies had their charm. Mrs. Heckman gave me ajar of her peppermint jelly." The jelly had tasted awful, but Kelsey had been so touched by the woman's generosity, she'd kept the jar in Ruth's refrigerator until it turned moldy.

"The local vendors are here, too, but they're not assigned the prime spots. Sylvia Randall isn't always nice, but she is one shrewd businesswoman." He nodded to a spot behind Kelsey. "There she is now."

She looked down the row of booths and spotted Sylvia and Boyd. Clipboard in hand, Sylvia was dressed in a yellow cotton sundress. Manicured pink toenails peaked out of white open sandals. She'd pulled her blond hair back in a neat pony tail. Boyd, dressed in his usual khakis, white collared shirt and Loafers, talked to a vendor and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"They look so perfect. Like they came off the top of a cake." Kelsey snapped a picture of them talking to a painter.

"Image is everything."

"I suppose."

"Stu!" a vendor who sold planters shouted.

Stu turned and raised his hand. "Hey, Phil. Kelsey, I'll be right back. I want to visit with Phil."

"Oh, sure, go ahead." Leave me with the sharks. "I'll be fine."

Stu limped off toward Phil's while Kelsey started to meander down the rows of exhibits. The smell of cotton candy and the sound of Dixieland band drifted around her.

Before she realized it, she stood in front of the Reelect Sheriff Mitch Garrett booth manned by Tammy and Bill Fox.

Bill had taken Kelsey out on a date at the beginning of senior year in high school. When she'd refused to sleep with him, he'd told everyone in school she was a tramp. What had already been a miserable high school experience turned torturous.

Walking faster, Kelsey kept her gaze ahead, hoping they wouldn't notice her.