The River's Secret

by Peggy Dulle

  At the end of the first week I spent at William's apartment, I came out from my nap and found him typing away on a computer and swearing at his white boards.

  “What's up?” I asked as I dropped into a chair.

  He pointed to the board. “I've got three victims and I can't get a handle on the perp.”

  “Tell me.”

  William went over to the boards. “This is Sally, Joan, and Mary. All three are waitresses at the same Denny's. You'll notice that they also look very similar.”

  “Long blond hair, short stature, anorexic.”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the board and then back at me. “Although I didn't really consider them that thin.” He smiled. “Is that a women's thing?”

  “No, it's a truth thing.” I walked over and pointed to the pictures. “I've got more meat on one of my thighs than they do in their entire body.”

  “Okay. I'll take your word for that.”

  “What else?”

  “All were kidnapped at a local grocery store. We found their cars in the parking lot after they'd been reported missing.”

  Thoughts of cars abandoned in a parking lot brought up my own memories. “Did anyone tamper with the cars?”

  “Not that we could tell.”

  “Could he have fixed whatever was wrong with their cars before you saw them?”

  “You're thinking of the Jackal and how he flattened your tire and then fixed it while you were unconscious in his van?”

  “Yes.”

  “It's good that you can talk about it.”

  “What else is there to do?” I said and shrugged.

  He nodded. “Okay, so he picks them up at the grocery store. They go away without fighting him. The lots are full of people and no one saw a screaming woman being dragged away by a man.”

  “Any evidence on the bodies?”

  “Nope. He's clean and thorough.”

  “Did these girls like to party?”

  “Yes.”

  “So if he offered them the right incentive, they'd have gone willingly with him.”

  “I think so.”

  “With these three, food wouldn't have been an incentive.”

  “If you say so.” William frowned.

  I took the photos off of the whiteboard and set them on the table. “If you get past the lack of meat on these girls, they're very pretty.”

  “Okay.”

  “Where'd you get these photos?”

  “From their mothers.”

  “Do you have a magnifying glass?”

  He handed me one. “What do you see?”

  I examined each photo. The same shadow appeared in the corner of each picture. It looked like a reflection in a mirror had been muted out of the photograph. “These were all taken by the same photographer.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, take a look.” I handed him the magnifying glass and showed him the shadow.

  “Damn it!” He shook his head. “I missed that.”

  I smiled and leaned against the table. “Nobody's perfect.”

  He smiled back. “Except you, Constance.”

  “Oh yeah, the crazy lady with the panic attacks is perfect?”

  He stood and put his hands on the table, one on each side of me. “Brace yourself.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leaned in and kissed me. At first - surprise and shock. Then - excitement and hunger. I couldn't catch my breath and my heart pounded fast and hard, it felt like it would erupt from my chest. That, coupled with the heat and desire I felt flow through my entire body, brought on a full-scale panic attack.

  William used the tips of his fingers to draw my face toward him. “Constance. Breathe. Count. Do whatever it takes. Who's in control?”

  I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing, and tried to control my emotions. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling at me.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked.

  “God, I've wanted to do that for weeks. I'm asking myself why I didn't do it sooner.”

  “I'm married.”

  “To a guy who abandons you when you need him the most?” He pulled his hands back. “Not much of a marriage.”

  He was right. But I had loved Matthew from the day I met him. I had never been with any man before Matthew. He was self-assured and tender at the same time. “I have to give my marriage a chance to work.”

  “Then it's time we go back to D.C., Constance.” He took my hand. “But I won't lie to you. I want you. If you ever want me,” his smile broadened, “just pick up the phone and tell me to bring over a board game.”

  The next day we returned to D.C.

  Damn that man! Sometimes I thought that if he had never kissed me that first time, everything would have turned out differently. First kisses can be the beginning of a wonderful chapter in your life; sometimes they lead you down a path that you should never have gotten on.

  A few minutes later I pulled into my driveway, got out of my truck and walked toward my house. A small crack of light filtered out through the slightly ajar front door. I pulled my weapon and slowly pushed it open.

  Chapter 6

  My couch was turned over, the cushions thrown against the wall that used to hold the family photos. My heart sank. So many memories lay broken in a heap on the floor. No time to mourn or pick them up. Kick up the adrenaline. First, I needed go through the entire place and make sure whoever trashed my house was gone.

  The drawers in the guest bathroom were pulled out and emptied on the floor. The shower curtain was sliced to ribbons, but still hung from its plastic red hooks. The guest bedroom was similarly chaotic. A tear fell down my cheek and I wiped it with the back of my hand when I saw my grandmother's handmade blue quilt lying in a pile on the floor. I reached down and lifted it. No cuts. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. My bedroom and master bath weren't in any better shape. But again, no destruction except the shower curtain, just drawers emptied and their contents spilled everywhere. My jewelry box had been emptied and its contents were gone, but there hadn't been anything but costume jewelry in it. Thank God my dad's badge and pocket watch were locked safely in my safe deposit box at the bank in town.

  That just left the kitchen. I cringed. Destruction in a house can be bad, but the kitchen is usually the worse. I wasn't disappointed. The smell hit me long before I got close to the archway that separated the kitchen from the living area. Not only were the drawers emptied onto the floor, but refrigerator was hanging open and the food was piled on the floor.

  What the hell? I didn't have anything of value. No expensive art or jewelry. But where was Cheezy? I called for her. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  No answer. Uneasiness settled in my stomach, different from a panic attack but just as daunting.

  “Cheezy!” I yelled. “I've got a new can of cat food for you. It's your favorite, tuna.”

  No answer. She always came running when I mentioned tuna. My insides churned as the food I had eaten today threatened to rear up and add to the mess in my kitchen. A twinge of fear plucked my spine like a guitar string when I saw her. She was cowering in a corner, covered in blood. The panic struck hard and grew quickly, shooting through my body like a lightning bolt. It was one of the strongest attacks I had experienced since coming home. Controlling a runaway freight train might have been easier.

  The nausea in my stomach that always preceded unconsciousness swelled and I felt light headed. I couldn't calm down or breathe, so I leaned my back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Dazed, I watched Cheezy get up and saunter over toward me. She was alive. It took me several minutes to breathe normally again.

  When she jumped into my lap, I touched her fur. It felt sticky, but the smell was wrong, not coppery like blood, but sweet. I brought my hand to my nose. Ketchup? She was covered with it.

  “How'd you get ketchup all over yourself, girl?”

  I pushed myself up and walked to my pantry where I kept the ketchup. The door was slightly ajar and when I opened it, the smell was horrendous.
Someone had emptied all the bottles and boxes of food onto the shelves, including several packages of tuna. Cheezy probably had smelled the tuna, gone into the pantry, and then slipped - landing right in the ketchup.

  I ignored the mess, held tightly onto the cat, and took her into the bathroom. First a bath, then I would deal with the rest of the house. Even the little town of Arroyo had its share of troublesome youths, I thought. And I knew exactly where they hung out. I would visit the delinquents on Monday and shake their tree a bit.

  They were probably looking for something to sell. Little did they know there wasn't even an old VCR in the house and the TV was ten years old. My parents didn't believe in modern technology and I just hadn't gotten around to getting a newer system.

  I washed Cheezy with my vanilla shampoo, then rinsed and toweled her fur dry. Next I cleaned the pantry. When I finished around four, I was just too tired to tackle the house. I grabbed my grandmother's quilt and climbed into bed without even changing into my pajamas.

  I lay in bed but tossed and turned;, sleep wouldn't come, so I took one of Doc's prescribed sleeping pills and slipped quietly into oblivion. I awoke to someone pounding on my front door.

  “Chief?” the voice yelled.

  “Just a minute,” I yelled back, my mind foggy from the sleeping pills. I forgot that Doc had said not to take them unless I had eight hours to devote to sleep. The alarm clock said ten-fifteen. I had gotten six hours of uninterrupted sleep, more than any other night.

  I opened the front door. Bob stood there. “It's after ten, Chief.” He glanced beyond me into my house. “What the hell happened?”

  “Kids, I suppose.”

  “Looking for something to sell.”

  “That's what I think too.”

  “Do you want me to help you clean it up?”

  “No, it’s Sunday and I'm taking the day off.”

  He laughed. “It's the first one you've had since you became chief and a damn good idea.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Then I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Great. Will you send the new skull piece to Chief Billings?”

  “Already done. He said he'd send it to Dr. Cain, the same doc he sent the last piece to.”

  “You're the best, Bob.” I patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, Chief.” He smiled broadly.

  I closed the door and turned back to the chaos in my house. First I went to the garage which, surprisingly, the vandals hadn’t bothered. Thank God! There’s no telling what damage they might have done with my Dad’s power tools. In my spare refrigerator, I found a frozen chicken burrito for me and a piece of trout Simon had caught a few months ago for Cheezy. I popped them each separately into the microwave, dished them up, and took them outside. We sat on the back porch and enjoyed the sunshine and our food. Then I dealt with the cleanup. It amazed me how much of my parents' stuff I still had at the house. My dad's fishing tackle box and four reels were in the cabinet in the dining room. My mom's cookbooks still took up an entire shelf in my pantry. And even my grandmother's bright quilting material still filled the cupboards of my office. I should have taken the time to put it all into boxes, but I didn't; I put everything back exactly where it had come from. I wasn't ready to let go of them or their place in my house.

  Several hours later, the house was back to normal and I hadn't found anything missing except the cheap necklaces and bracelets from my jewelry box.

  Around five, Simon called. “Hey, Connie. How's the housecleaning going?”

  “Bob has a big mouth.”

  “Of course. But in his defense, I made him tell me why you weren't at work before I'd give him any information about the skull pieces.”

  “He doesn't know how to lie. I've tried to teach him, but he's unteachable.” I laughed.

  “That could be a good thing.” Simon laughed too.

  “What can you tell me about the skull pieces?”

  “Dr. Cain says that both pieces are from women.”

  “But not the same woman?”

  “No, it's definitely two different women.”

  “Anything else?”

  “They were probably in their early teens.”

  “How long have they been dead?”

  “Twenty to thirty years.”

  “Wow, that's long ago.”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else of interest?”

  “The lab is running some tests to see if the bones can tell us more.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don't have a clue, but I'll let you know when I know.”

  “Thanks, Simon.”

  “You're welcome, Connie.”

  “Have fun at the gallery opening,” I teased.

  “Oh yeah, it will be the highlight of my week.”

  I hung up the phone, made myself another cup of tea, and went to watch the sunset on my porch. Cheezy jumped onto my lap a few minutes later. The backyard lawn was in shadows from the five huge oak trees that loomed over it. The wind kicked up and the rope swing that hung from the biggest tree swayed slowly with the breeze. I had fallen off that swing many times when I was younger, always pushing myself to reach higher and higher into the sky. I leaned my head against the back of the wooden porch swing.

  Were the bones from a crime or an old grave? That was the question that needed answering. The first thing we should do would be to talk to the property owners and see if they had any burial plots on their properties. The second would be to get Simon's team back and have them search higher up the river.

  At that moment my house phone rang. It couldn't be the station; they always called my cell phone. I pushed Cheezy off my lap and went inside.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Connie.”

  At the sound of his voice, my stomach took a nose dive. Was he finally calling? After all this time?

  “Matthew?”

  “Yes.”

  I hadn't talked to him since that day in his office when he told me he knew about my affair with William. And that had been over a year ago. Would we finally have a discussion about our failed marriage?

  “What can I do for you?” I kept my voice steady, but the muscles in the back of my neck tightened with each word.

  “I need your help on a case.”

  “I'm not FBI anymore, Matthew,” I said, not trying to hide the irritation in my voice. All this time and he's calling about a case? What an ass!

  “I know, Connie, but I still need your help.”

  “Why?”

  “The Jackal sent us another note.”

  “So what's that to me?”

  “It's addressed to you.”

  The panic attack started low in my belly but grew in intensity as I tried to breathe and control it.

  “Are you okay, Connie?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, I'm fine.”

  “Are you still having the panic attacks?”

  “No,” I lied. “I was just thinking about the Jackal and why he would send me a note.”

  “I don't know.”

  “Did he send it directly to the FBI headquarters?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does the note say?”

  “We haven't opened it.”

  “Why not?”

  “The envelope says that it's for you only.”

  “How's he going to know if someone else opens it?”

  “I don't know, but I don't want to take the chance.”

  “What chance?”

  “If someone else opens it, the envelope says he will increase his killings to six instead of five,” Matthew's voice was firm and even, but I knew him better than that. Underneath the calm, anger and frustration bubbled. He hadn't wanted to call me but he didn't have a choice.

  The Jackal didn't leave me any other option, either. “Are you going to send the note to me or do you want me to come and get it?”

  “It's already on its way to you.”

  “To my house?”

  “No, to t
he station.”

  “When?”

  “It should be there tomorrow. Call me when you open it.”

  “Okay.”

  There was silence on the line. I heard him swallow hard, as if the words stuck in his throat. “Thanks for your help, Connie.”

  “You're welcome, Matthew.”

  Then he was gone.

  I went back to the swing on my back porch, took a deep breath, and gazed at the distant mountains. I waited over a year for someone to call and check on me. The call had come but it hadn't been about me. It was about the Jackal, again.

  Memories of the day I returned home to an empty house came flooding back. I fought down the urge to cry.

  William had dropped me off. “Do you want me to wait?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

  “No.” I shut the car door and walked up the driveway. The green stucco house, with its dark green shutters and peaked roof elicited a sense of home but also of wariness. I just wasn't sure what to expect and it unsteadied my nerves. When I took out my keys, my hand shook. Would the key still work? I slid it into the lock and opened the door. William honked, waved, and drove off.

  I wandered from room to room. Nothing had changed and nobody was home. Three messages were on the machine, all from me. At least Matthew hadn't erased them. I called his office and talked to his secretary.

  “Is Matthew in?” I asked

  “Hey, Connie. How are you?” Evelyn Stanton, Matthew's secretary, answered, her tone light and friendly.

  “Fine, Evelyn. Can I talk to him?”

  “He's in a meeting until four.”

  “Just tell him I'm home.”

  “It's great to talk to you, Connie. When are you coming back to work?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Well, we've sure missed you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I was missed by his secretary, but what about Matthew? I spent the next three hours pacing and fighting down an anxiety attack sparked by apprehension and worry. What would happen when Matthew came home? Could we just pick up where we were before I left to chase the Jackal?

  My heart leapt when I heard his key in the door. I quickly grabbed a magazine and sat on the couch, not wanting to appear as uneasy as the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  He came into the room. Same conservative tailored black suit and confident stride, but his normally expressive intense blue eyes showed neither concern nor apprehension.