Drift

by L T Ryan

  “What about water?” Hatch interrupted.

  “Excuse me? I think you were asked to remain as a silent observer during this procedure.”

  Hatch eyed Savage. “I didn’t hear anything about remaining silent. And back to my question—if she’d drowned, then there’d be water in the lungs.”

  “True.”

  “So, was there any water in my sister’s lungs?”

  “No.”

  Savage held out his notepad so Hatch could see. He tapped his pen against a notation with an asterisk, no water in lungs. “Not my first rodeo either.”

  Hatch smirked. “Fair enough.”

  The autopsy procedure was nearly complete by the time Hatch barged in. The doctor continued his verbal notes and then placed all of the removed organs into a thick plastic bag. He then stuffed them back inside her sister’s open chest cavity and sewed the signature Y, closing it. The cold hard reality of a death investigation.

  “To officially determine cause of death, we’ll need to wait until I get the toxicology reports back from the lab. I’ve sent the bloodwork off to the state for analysis, and I’ll let you know as soon as I have them in hand, Sheriff. Should be a couple of days.”

  “Thanks.” Savage turned his attention to Hatch. “We’ve finished up the autopsy if you’d like to take a moment alone with your sister.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two men exited, leaving her alone with her sister’s body. The only sound was the whir of the vent fan above, failing to rid the stench from the room.

  Hatch leaned in, hovering over her sister’s face. Death steals the humanity and leaves behind a shadow of the person. Olivia was gone. And in the isolation of the cold, uncaring surroundings, Hatch gave in. Lowering her guard, she absorbed the pain of her sister’s death.

  Laying a kiss on her icy forehead, Hatch sealed her vow. To find out what happened to her. To make sure that whoever was responsible would pay. It was a promise she was more than capable of carrying out.

  Hatch exited the room. The doctor slipped by, returning to the lab and closing the door behind him, leaving her in the hallway with the Sheriff.

  “You okay?”

  “As good as can be expected.”

  “Didn’t seem fazed by the autopsy process.”

  Hatch shrugged indifference.

  Savage cocked an eyebrow. “Are you a cop?”

  “Used to be.”

  “Where at?”

  “Everywhere and nowhere.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I was a warrant officer with the Army. Spent my last eleven years with the Military Police’s Criminal Investigation Division. So, I’ve worked cases pretty much everywhere in the world including the most remote parts of nowhere. Everywhere and nowhere. Something we used to say in my unit.”

  “Hmm. Are you still in?”

  “No.”

  “Why’d you get out?”

  Hatch rubbed at the rippled scar tissue under her sleeve. She eyed the tall investigator warily. “It’s a long story. And as I see it, you’ve got a case to be working on.”

  Savaged nodded and fiddled with his notepad. “I guess we should get going then.”

  The two proceeded back along the short hallway, through the door, and into the lobby. The receptionist looked up. He nodded warmly at Savage but averted his eyes in a snooty protest to Hatch. She threw up her hands in an apologetic gesture and followed Savage out of the building.

  “What’s next for you?” Savage asked.

  “Burying my sister. After that, I’ll be looking into figuring out who’s responsible.”

  “I understand you’re upset, but it’s best you let me and my deputies sort this out. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not an investigator anymore. And even if you were—you’d have no jurisdictional powers here.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way. I don’t have to play by all your rules.”

  “Please do me a favor and let me do my job. As I said, this isn’t my first rodeo either.”

  “You get a lot of bodies up this way, Sheriff?”

  “I spent ten years working Denver Homicide before coming out this way.”

  “Why the change?”

  Savage shook his head. “I guess we both have a long story to tell. But like you said, I’ve got a case I should be working on.”

  6

  Hatch had been awake for close to two hours. Sleeping in her old room, now converted into a study, left her back sore from the leather couch she’d bedded down on. She decided not to linger about the house until the others awoke and quietly made her exit. It had been a long time since she’d run the hilly terrain, but her feet navigated the uneven ground with ease. Memories of long runs with her father flooded back as she crashed through the tree line.

  Running was their thing. The early bond solidified on the Colorado trails. He’d gotten her into it when she was young. A Vietnam-era green beret, he’d taught her the value of being able to move her body over long distances, always pushing Hatch beyond her limitations. He’d taught her other skills, too. Ones that aided in her survival overseas. But like running, all skills were perishable if not practiced. Although it had been a year since her separation from military service, Hatch was as sharp today as she’d ever been.

  Hatch ran for several miles before coming to a stop near a small brook. She stopped to stretch by a large boulder. Placing her hands on the cool stone, she alternated flexing her ankles in an effort to loosen her calves. The altitude, combined with the dry thin mountain air, caused them to cramp, and it felt good to take a momentary rest.

  This rest spot wasn’t chosen by accident. It was the same place where she’d found her father’s body twenty-one years ago. One bullet had penetrated his heart, killing him instantly.

  His body had been cold by the time she’d discovered him. The darkened dirt surrounding his lifeless form was an image that surfaced in her nightmares. Being here now brought the surreal imagery back to the forefront of her mind. At twelve, she didn’t know much about rendering first aid. But she knew enough to check for a pulse. Hatch knelt by her father and found no sign of life. She lay upon his chest and wept. His blood covered her clothes and no amount of washing ever seemed to remove the stain of it from her skin.

  His death was deemed a hunting accident by authorities, even though the hunter responsible was never located. At age twelve, Rachel Hatch learned a hard reality. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. And sometimes the people responsible for those bad deeds go unpunished. Both became guideposts of her life. Her calling was forged in the blood-soaked dirt by the brook.

  Help good people and punish those who hurt others.

  Since leaving the Army, her ability to find a way to honor that code had been more difficult. And she’d spent most of her time during the last year adrift.

  She hoisted herself up on the rock, letting her body cool against its surface. Hatch felt this to be as good a place as any to start the day of her sister’s funeral.

  As dawn broke with the brightness peeking through the tall pines, she stared at the ground where her father had drawn his last breath.

  An hour later, Hatch crested the path’s rise to the clearing behind her childhood home. Slowing to a walk, steam rose from her body as she approached the back porch. The swing where she and her father would sit and watch fireflies in the summer nights swung gently from the strength of a passing breeze. She could see inside the windows, and the heads of her niece and nephew bobbed along to the kitchen area.

  She entered, half expecting to hear the chaotic ramblings of children, and was caught off guard by the silence. There was only an occasional ding of a spoon against a porcelain bowl as Daphne methodically scooped her cereal, head down in a trance-like state. Jake munched on a Pop-Tart. Each bite sent down a cascade of chocolate rain onto the plate and table below. Hatch’s mother, seated at the head, sipped slowly from her coffee. Her eyes were red, but her tears had been wiped from her face. Hatch
knew the woman well enough to know she was doing her best to shield the children from her pain. Hatch had seen this before during her own childhood.

  “I see you were up early,” her mother said, not looking up from her cup.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Went for a run.”

  “Some things never change.”

  “Some things do. Since when do you allow sugar cereal and Pop-Tarts? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t allowed to eat anything you didn’t grow yourself or buy direct from Hoskin’s farmer’s market.”

  Hatch’s mother offered a weak smile and shrugged. “Special occasion.”

  Daphne pushed her chair back. She crossed the wood floor toward Hatch with a pitter-patter of bare feet and walked right into Hatch’s side, locking her arms around her waist in a tight embrace. This kid was definitely a hugger.

  Hatch felt out of her element. She gently patted the young girl’s head. Daphne gave a whimper and her body trembled. Convulsive vibrations resonated with increased intensity as the sad reality of the day gripped her niece.

  Hatch knew the child felt her mom in Rachel’s form. The similarity must’ve given Daphne equal parts pain and comfort. Hatch peeled the child’s arms free. Holding the six-year-old by the hands, she took a knee, coming to eye level. Daphne’s dirty blonde hair hung in lazy curls around her face.

  “I know this day is going to be hard for you. My dad, your grandfather, always used to say to me, the hard times define us and how we use the memory of it defines our future.”

  Daphne cocked her head. Eyes still moist, she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I guess it means we stay strong even when we don’t want to. Use your sadness as a reminder, but never let it hold you back.”

  Daphne nodded, but Hatch still wasn’t convinced the little girl even remotely understood what she was trying to say. She was used to motivating soldiers on a battlefield. Deploying similar tactics with a child was uncharted territory.

  “Let’s not go spouting your father’s wisdom today,” her mom said. “The kids need to process this in their own way.”

  Hatch stood. She looked at her mother, the perennial hippie. To this day Hatch never understood how her parents had been so happy together. Jasmine a flower child, and her father, a warrior. Maybe in those polar differences came an unlikely balance.

  Hatch walked into the kitchen without furthering the confrontation and poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator. If there was one thing the two agreed on, it was that her mother could make one hell of a cup of coffee. Whether it was the beans, the grind, or the percolator itself, Hatch didn’t know, but she’d never found a better cup in her life’s travels.

  Taking her mug in hand, she left the three to return to their silent breakfast and went upstairs to wash off the caked sweat of her early morning jaunt.

  And to prepare for her sister’s funeral.

  “Thank you all for coming. Olivia was loved by all. She was a sweet child, always looking out for the well-being of others. She instilled those same values in her own children. And so, in many ways, Olivia will live on. I’m not much for speeches. But I will share one story I think exemplifies the beautiful spirit of my daughter.

  “When Olivia was ten, she found a baby bird that had fallen from a tree in our yard. I remember her coming to me with the bird cupped gently in her hands. The little goldfinch had fallen from its nest and injured its wing. Olivia spent the day making a splint. She then spent several days nursing it until finally taking the bird to the animal rescue where it made a full recovery. I asked her why she cared so much for the bird. And she answered in the simple phrasing of a ten-year-old: because it needed me. Olivia lived her life the same way. Giving to anybody who needed her help. She had a big heart and the world is a darker place without her light.”

  Hatch watched her mother’s poise and grace in the delivery of the speech. For the first time in a long time, she found herself looking at her mother with something she’d thought she had long since lost. Respect. Something she didn’t think was possible. Not after what she did after her father’s death.

  Her mother’s brief but powerful eulogy concluded. Daphne walked over and placed a hand drawn picture, depicting her and her mother holding hands in a bright green field, on top of the casket. Jake stood silently by, battling with his emotions bubbling inside. Hatch remained stoic as she stared at the box containing her sister’s body, having already said her goodbyes.

  People meandered in the grassy field near the upturned earth where Olivia was soon to be interred. Several attendees, some of whom were old friends, eyed Hatch hard. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the resemblance to her sister or the hateful distrust of outsiders to the tight-knit community. Even though she’d been born and raised there, departing was frowned upon. To them, she was now an outsider. Returning only to attend a funeral was seen as an insult and, by the judging eyes of a few, meant she was no longer welcome to the town’s embrace.

  But one face stood out from the crowd. Cole Jenson, who apparently hadn’t aged a day since she’d left, pushed his way through the other attendees and approached. “Rachel.”

  “Cole.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “Fifteen? Man—feels like forever.” Cole leaned in closer and gave an awkward hug. The air around him held a hint of mint and leather. A fitting scent for the ruggedly handsome man. “I’m so sorry about your sister. I can’t believe she drowned.”

  “Not so sure she did.”

  Cole released his hold and stepped back. “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing. Just waiting to see what the sheriff’s office investigation turns up.”

  “Last I heard you were in the Army. A cop or something?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing worth talking about.” The truth was, Hatch didn’t want to talk about her past with Cole Jenson, or anyone else from Hawk’s Landing for that matter.

  “I’d love to catch up sometime. Maybe you’d be interested in meeting me for a beer at Miller’s Walk?”

  Hatch looked over at her sister’s children. Their faces were stuck in various states of distress. Jake was fighting to mask his pain, which resulted in a contortion of his cheeks, causing his ears to turn fire engine red. Daphne was a waterfall of emotion, having crumpled to the ground holding her teddy bear. “Now’s not really the time. My family needs me.”

  “Seems like they got along fine without you for a while.”

  Hatch flinched as if ducking a blow. A flash of anger came over her. The words struck a chord because deep down she knew the truth behind them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just saying—you’ve been gone a while.”

  Hatch folded her arms. “I had my reasons. Remember?”

  “Listen, I didn’t come over here to upset you or bring up the past. I really just wanted to see if you were doing okay.” He scribbled onto the back of a business card. “Here’s my number. I wrote my cell on the back. Give me a call later if you want to meet up.”

  Hatch looked at the number and then flipped the card over. Executive of Operations, Nighthawk Engineering. “You worked for the same company as Olivia?”

  “Pretty much everybody in town does. It’s been great for the local economy. But to answer your question, yeah, we worked together. She was my administrative assistant. I saw her every day.” He looked over at the casket. “I really can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Hatch pocketed the card and sighed, realizing Cole might be able to shed some light on Olivia’s work life. As painful as the thought was, she conceded. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “How’s eight sound?”

  Cole smiled. “Perfect. I can pick you up if you want?”

  “No thanks. I’ll find my way there.”

  Hatch walked away and back toward her sister
’s grieving children, hoping she’d be able to deliver some level of comfort. If by no other means than her mere presence.

  7

  “What’s that you’re holding?”

  “Just the information the Sheriff was asking for.” Her mother held the slip of paper in her hand, guarding it from view. “He needed the password for Olivia’s phone.”

  Hatch’s arm outstretched. “Let me take a look at it.”

  “Not sure what you plan on doing with it, but I need to get this over to Sheriff Savage. He told me to bring it by the station. I meant to do it before but got sidetracked preparing for Olivia’s service.”

  “No need for you to bother. You stay here with the kids. I’ll run it over to him. I wanted to follow up with how things were progressing with the investigation anyway.”

  Her mother looked down at the paper in her hand, and then over at Daphne and Jake. She let out a sigh of resignation, placing it in Hatch’s open palm. “It’s important he gets that.”

  “I understand.”

  Hatch turned to leave. Daphne looked up from the couch where she and her brother were sitting. “Can I come?”

  “Not today. I’ll be back soon.”

  Daphne turned her attention to the television without saying a word. She folded her arms in silent frustration.

  Jake’s despondency was painted across his stoic face. He was lost. She knew the feeling. Hatch had been there herself and had faith he’d bounce back. She did. He played a game on his iPad, his padded headphones blocking out the world around him.

  Hatch tapped the boy on the shoulder. Startled from his trance, he looked up at her. He slid one earphone off.

  “Jake, you look pretty handy around a computer. Do you think you can help me with something?”

  He gave a weak shrug. “Guess so.”

  Hatch held out the piece of paper. “Can you log into your mother’s account?”