Remote Consequences (2 page)

Holding my Maglite XL at arm's length to warn me of potential eight-legged predators, I scooted my knee forward another notch and winced as a splinter made its way through my pants leg and speared my tender flesh.

"Dammit."

I eased back onto my bottom and surveyed the damage. A shard of laminated wood about three inches in length protruded from my pants leg. I yanked it free and tossed it behind me. I'd have to tend to my wound later. A brief daydream image of sitting on a sunny beach—margarita in one hand, and a hefty worker's compensation check in the other—made me grin. Not a likely outcome for a splinter-induced injury, though.

Boxes of holiday decorations, an old baby crib, stacks of books, and a deep freezer cluttered the area. Standard stuff. Nothing special about His Honor's attic.

Deep freezer?

Who had a deep freezer in their attic? My head snapped back to the opposite corner where a standard eight-cubic-foot, chest-style freezer sat in the shadows. I stood up, brushing off the back of my pants. Deep freezers were heavy suckers. I knew this because I'd once had the corner of one dropped on my toe in my aunt's cellar basement.

As if in response to the memory, my toe ached deep inside my boot.

I'd never seen anyone lug a heavy deep-freeze up to an attic. It didn't make much sense, but at the same time—wouldn't it feel great to open that lid and feel the mist of ice-cold frost caress my face? Memories of homemade ice cream and preparing containers of summer vegetables for the fall trickled through my memory. Summers had been good once. A long time ago.

Back and knees stiff from the attic crawl, I limped toward the freezer. I doubted it was even running. Who would be stupid enough to run it up here? What if it defrosted and leaked down through the floorboards? Imagining worst-case scenarios was kind of like a superpower to me.

But as I reached out to touch the dusty lid, I heard the humming thrum of the motor inside.

Probably shouldn't mess with it.

I looked around the attic as if someone were going to pop out and shake their finger at me for snooping. But when no one appeared, I lifted the lid.

The blessed frost hit my face, and I inhaled the frigid glory. But when the mist cleared—my breath caught in my throat. Lungs frozen in an ice block of silent shock.

There, among the Tupperware containers, curled into a fetal position was…one dead body.

Don't tell your complaint to one who has no pity. –Irish Proverb

The body was on its side and appeared to be male, but that was about all I could tell from this observation point. Well, except for the fact that it had major freezer burn.

I dropped the lid of the freezer and backed away, conking my head on a shallow roof beam in the process.

"Ouch. Crap."

I rubbed my head. Tried to think. What should I do?

Diagnose the patient? Wait. What the heck am I thinking? Get the heck out of this attic. Call the cops.

My mind flooded with ideas, but my body remained motionless. The sound of shoes squeaking on the attic's dropdown ladder brought me back to reality. I spun around and shone the flashlight directly into glowing eyes.

"Do you mind?"

It was the housekeeper. The accented voice came at me with short-clipped words that seemed to leave off the end of each syllable. I lowered the strong beam of light and saw a glass containing some sort of refreshing beverage extended toward me.

"You thirsty, no?"

The kindness of those simple words almost made me feel better. Almost. A chill was still sweeping up my spine at the memory of the frozen man-sicle just two feet behind me.

Should I tell her? Show her? Call the cops? But something told me to get out of the house. A sudden sense of being trapped nearly overwhelmed me, and spots swirled before my eyes, causing me to sway slightly.

"You okay? Too hot up here for working." The housekeeper observed me warily.

"Uh, you know. I'm going to need to go."

I forced my legs to propel me forward.

"You want Amika should call someone for you?"

Who's Amika?

Her big eyes blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

Oh,
she's
Amika. My brain stumbled over the third-person reference.

"Uh, no. No. I just need to get
out
."

My last word came out a little more stressed than I'd intended.

Amika shrugged and backed down the stairs. I followed suit. One step at a time. Get out of here and call the police. Who was that dead guy, and what was he doing in the mayor's attic? My mind raced. My heart raced.

"Cable all fix?" Amika waited at the bottom of the ladder. Moisture on the glass, of what appeared to be lemonade, frosted the sides. It made me think of the freezer, and I shivered.

"I need some help."

Amika watched me carefully. Did she seem suspicious? Did she know about the body? Maybe
she
was the one who'd hid it there. Maybe I would be the next one preserved like the summer squash if I didn't get the heck out of here.

I sidestepped down the hallway, keeping my eye on the wary housekeeper and making my way to the stairs leading down to the foyer.

"You come back today? Mr. Mills not happy if cable broken." Amika sing-songed the last few words of warning.

No, he won't be happy.

This was not something that any politician wanted to face. And now, I was right smack dab in the middle of a small-town scandal.

*  *  *

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I considered my options. I could phone the cops from right here. I could drive to the police station. I could drive to the cable office and tell my boss. Or I could drive home and forget any of this ever happened.

I liked the last choice best.

But it wasn't really an option. I was quite familiar with what a cadaver looked like, and I was certain I'd found one in the Mills' attic just minutes earlier.

I cranked up the air conditioner another notch and the not-yet-cooled air sent my hair back in waves, making a flapping sound against the vinyl headrest. I closed my eyes a moment.

What to do? What to do?

If I went to the office with my story, my boss could fire me on the spot. I hadn't completed the job I was sent to do, and, better yet, I'd snooped inside their personal belongings. Both were on the big "no-no" list that Barry, my passive-aggressive boss, had given me the first day on the job.

I'll probably be fired anyway.

Why did I have to look inside the freezer? If I'd never seen the body, I wouldn't have to worry about telling anyone. Any attempt at rationalizing my fears and actions now wouldn't help me or anyone, and there was still the matter of the dead body. He was someone.

Maybe someone's father. Someone's brother. Definitely someone's son. Whoever he was, he didn't deserve to spend an eternity curled up in a perpetual frozen ab crunch.

Aunt Patty had once told me that death was never pretty, but it was a necessary part of life. After all, I'd learned about death at a very early age—back when my parents were killed in a car accident. This was so
not
the time to go there. I flushed the memory back down and refocused.

 My aunt would have known exactly what to do in a situation like this. But, once again, I was alone in the decision-making adult world, and I felt less than equipped to star in this role.

It was so much easier to read and study books. Write term papers and dissect a willingly donated cadaver. There was a certain art and beauty to be able to look at the human body from an objective, scientific point of view. I'd learned this in medical school—maybe one day I could finish that. It had been so close I could still almost taste it.

Now all I tasted were bitter regrets, fear, and the lingering tingle of my very last Tic Tac.

A check of my phone revealed the time to be almost one in the afternoon. I'd put this off long enough. It was time to be a responsible adult. Take action.

I cranked the engine and pulled out of the mayor's drive.

Millbrook Police Department, here I come.

The apple falls on the head that's under it. –Irish Proverb

I parked the van between two squad cars and jolted out of my seat. I did not look forward to my second police interaction of the day.

Reaching the station's double doors, I caught a quick glimpse of my haphazard reflection, but my terrifying image was interrupted by the outward swing of the door.

There, before me, stood the voluptuous body of Allyson Harlow.

One look at the short, stacked vixen sent my stomach into a tight clench of dread. All those old school memories came flooding back with a vengeance.

Mandy…Mandy…rotten candy…

From the first day of kindergarten until the last day of high school, we'd had two things in common. We'd both loved Ty Dempsey, and we'd both hated each other.

"Well, lookie who's back in town."

Allyson's molasses-thick voice drawled out between perfect teeth, which were clamped in a forced Crest-white grin. She stood there in five-inch stilettos and a short polka-dot sundress, its seams strained to the max with her well-endowed chest that taunted the laws of physics. Ready to attend the weekly Millbrook Service League meeting and throw daggers at anyone who got in her way, no doubt. Or maybe she'd just claw their eyes out with her newly manicured fake acrylic nails.

"And look who's still wearing hooker heels." The comment sprang forth from my mouth in a rapid-fire response.

My words surprised Allyson for a split second. They surprised me, too.

The smile fell from Allyson's face as she lifted her neck a little higher and turned her attention to the empty gingham-style cloth-lined basket swinging from her left arm.

"Oh, I just had to bring by some fresh-baked brownies for Ty and the boys. You know how he
loves
the sweet stuff I have to offer."

Ugh.

"Yes…still stalking Ty, I see," I mumbled beneath my breath.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Allyson's eyes pinged ice picks my way. But the thought of ice picks brought me back to the matter at hand.

Ice picks equals ice equals freezer equals…dead body.

"Wish I could stay and chat, but I have something important I need to talk to Ty and the boys about." I reached around Allyson for the door handle, catching a lungful of her over-the-top perfume.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." Allyson gave me the once-over, and her look was easy to interpret. I looked like crap, and Allyson looked perfect.

Some things never changed.

I pushed my way past and entered the lobby, but before the door closed the last words out of Allyson's mouth reached my ears…

"Ty and I will be at O'Hannigan's tonight. You should join us if you're not busy."

The invitation was fake. Just like her nails. Just like everything else about her. But I got the message. Allyson was still chasing Ty, and I was still watching from the sidelines.

Oh well, I have bigger and colder things to deal with than Hussy Harlow.

*  *  *

I shouldn't have been surprised to see Ty Dempsey as a cop. After all, every Dempsey man was a cop. The Dempseys only made cops it seemed. Three generations of cops from what I remembered. But I'd never actually
seen
him in cop mode.

And I had kind of hoped he'd do something different. Once upon a time, he'd had such big dreams. All those years ago he'd talked of nothing but getting out of Elmore County. He was a rebel. A troublemaker. A football star. And a heartbreaker. My heart, specifically.

And now, he was here…at the police station. Right where I needed to be and exactly the person I needed
not
to see.

I shuttered the memories out of my mind and focused on his glare from across the station house. I couldn't help it if he still blamed me for losing his college scholarship. It really wasn't my fault. Well, mostly not…

A rotund man in a black uniform studied me from behind the front desk. I focused on his curly hair and the police radio clipped to his shoulder lapel. His icy blue eyes, quite similar to the Mills' housekeeper's eyes, caught my attention and made me think of my own Irish-green eyes passed down from my father.

He cleared his throat and a few crumbs trickled down the wrinkled front of his uniform, where it bulged out just over his belly. The look in his eyes was one that said he didn't expect to see much action outside of a jelly donut today, and, unfortunately, as I told him my tale of the thwarted cable mission, the look didn't change much. Except to crinkle his eyes at the corners into a hint of a mocking expression as he ogled my B-cup boobs.

"So, you say you were in Mayor Mills' attic, and there was something dead in the freezer?"

His voice was half amused and half bored. But his beady eyes never left my breasts as he spoke.

I swore I could feel Ty staring at me from what must've been twenty feet away, but I refused to look up. I had to stay on target. It wasn't time for another high school reunion. I'd already survived one this morning before entering the building.

"Yes, I was there to handle a cable problem." I took the opportunity to point my index finger at the Flicks Vision patch that hovered over my left breast. If he was going to stare at my chest, at least I could verify my legitimacy for being at the house in question. "And there wasn't something dead in the freezer, there was
someone
dead in the freezer."

He let out a cough and turned to look over his shoulder. I followed his eyes and saw Ty watching the exchange from the desk of the young Officer Prentiss, whom I'd met this morning at my kitchen door.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Officer Chubby asked as he glared at his fellow patrolmen.

I slapped my hand down on the countertop, and he spun his glare around to me.