2 Multiple Exposures

by Audrey Claire

  “I will. Trust me, I don’t want to be any more humiliated than I already am.” My cheeks burned, but I forged on. “I think it’s important to know just in case your people miss is. There’s a pen next to the body.”

  “I saw it,” he said. “So what? The doctor has to take notes and write prescriptions.”

  I peeked around him to see if anyone was nearby. An officer was within earshot, so I pulled Spencer farther away and lowered my voice. “Spencer, that pen is not just a regular pen. It’s a camera pen.”

  His eyebrows crashed low over his eyes, and his jaw hardened.

  “I’m sure you understand my meaning when I say the gynecologist had a pen that probably ninety-nine percent of his patients didn’t know takes photos and possibly video.”

  An expletive dropped from his lips, and his silver eyes darkened. “Tell me about the letter.”

  I did in a few words, and he commanded me in a gruff tone to stay where I was. I watched as he stalked down the hall and pulled a plastic bag from his jacket. Did all police carry those bags around with them just in case they came across something that needed to be preserved as evidence? For some reason it put me in mind of the grocery bags dog owners carried when they walked their dogs, and you know the whys of that process.

  Spencer produced a rubber glove as well, impressing me further, and picked up the pen. Briefly, I wondered why he didn’t leave it for his forensics guys, but then I could guess. The scandal that would hit soon would be bad enough, but the fewer eyes on whatever might still be on the pen’s memory, the better.

  When Spencer was ready, we returned to the exam room where I had been waiting for the doctor. I slipped into my clothes while he spoke to someone in the hall. Just as I had closed the last button on my blouse, Spencer swung into the room.

  “Jeez, you could have knocked.”

  He ignored me. “Where’s the letter?”

  I picked up my purse and opened it. The letter wasn’t where I was pretty sure I had stuffed it. I checked between every slip of paper and even inside my wallet just in case I had had the silly notion of folding it into there. Nothing. “It’s gone.”

  “What?” Anger stirred in his eyes. “Are you sure, Makayla? That letter could be a clue to who might have murdered the doctor.”

  “So you’re calling it a murder?”

  “Not officially until I get the ME’s report.” He reached for my purse, but I snatched it away. “I know how to search my purse. Trust me. It’s not here.”

  “It shouldn’t have been,” he shot back. “If you had told me immediately about it.”

  “Would you have taken it seriously?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “The writer seemed to think maybe I would need to convince you.”

  His glare radiated, but I would not be intimidated. Rather I put my hands on my hips and waited. Spencer had been at his job in his Virginia hometown for a long time, according to him, and the likes of my smart-mouthed self did not faze him one bit, to my personal annoyance. He walked into the hall, and I scooted after him. Before either of us made it far, another officer was headed toward the back and met us halfway down the passage.

  “The body’s that way, Pete.” Spencer stuck his thumb over his shoulder. “Make sure you get shots of it and the back entrance. I want a catalogue of everything in that closet. I need to find a long time resident of town and an employee of this clinic, preferably one and the same.”

  “Heck, sheriff, I was born and raised here,” Pete offered. “Darn near everybody at the station too. The woman that was here earlier, though, I hear she’s in no state to answer questions.”

  “I don’t want to question you,” Spencer growled. “Or the guys. You have jobs to do!”

  Pete blushed. “Of course, sir. You’re right.”

  “The forensics photographer who eloped,” I blurted when I at last realized who Pete was. I had never met him. He and Spencer both looked around at me, but I ignored Spencer and stuck my hand out to Pete. “Hello, I’m Makayla Rose. I took over for you while you were gone.”

  His big brown eyes widened, reminding me of a boy half his age, and I saw some of what Reeza must have seen in him to say yes to his proposal. Pete grinned, showing off a great set of pearly whites too. Yup, that’s how he got her, and if he added a sweet personality with it, Reeza, Barbie doll though I remember her being, would have fallen hard.

  “Peter Fortner. Nice to meet you, Makayla. I had heard of you, but I never got to meet you before I left town for a little while.”

  I snorted. “You make it sound like you had to run an errand or visit a sick friend. You eloped.”

  His already pink cheeks burned all the more, and he set his bag down and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, Reeza and I—that’s my girlfriend, I mean my wife. We just wanted to do things our way.”

  “I understand completely, and I hope things are going well between you newlyweds. The mothers aren’t giving you too much stress about defying them, are they?”

  “Oh no, not after Mama gave me an hour’s lecture about depriving her and all that.”

  I tutted with sympathy. “Well, I for one think it was brave of the two of you to defy what friends and family wanted and to march to your own beat. I wish you all the happiness in the world. And I can’t help adding that I’m glad you’ve come back. I much prefer taking pictures of sweet little ones and their families in a more positive atmosphere.”

  At this mention of babies, Peter’s eyes sparkled so bright they were in danger of being declared a star, at least in my active imagination they were. “As to that, it just so happens, Reeza just found out from the doctor we’re starting our own family. It’s sooner than I expected, but I’m happy. Once Mama calms down and I tell her, she’ll be tickled pink.”

  My teeth clicked together at his news, and Spencer started. Pete glanced from me to his boss and back again. I didn’t want to ask the question I knew had to be asked, and Pete of course would have to know the truth of what we suspected.

  Spencer was not so lily-livered to ask. “You said Reeza’s pregnant?”

  “Yeah, sheriff.” Pete grinned. “I haven’t told my mama yet, so if you can keep it between us for now, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Who’s her doctor?” Spencer demanded.

  Again confusion colored Pete’s expression. He was probably wondering why neither of us had yet to congratulate him and his wife. “Doc over on Sumter. Were you looking for one?”

  Pete stared at me wide-eyed. I squeaked and held up my hands. “No! Perish the thought, Pete. I’m not pregnant. Um, we were concerned because it’s Dr. Bloomberg who has died, and Reeza just discovering she’s pregnant…”

  “Oh.” Pete blew out a breath of relief. “No, she’s had that other doc forever. Says she prefers a female.”

  Relief washed over me as well, and I felt better to offer him the congratulations he must have been expecting. “When you see Reeza, tell her I wish her the same. Oh, I just remembered the relation to Lissa. Is she out front? I hope she’s not too upset.”

  Spencer gave me a questioning look, but Pete answered. “Reeza’s sister works here, but no, I would be more worried about her if I didn’t already know she had today off. She and Reeza were going to do some shopping together. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know her schedule.”

  Another awkward silence on my part. Spencer was writing down Lissa’s name. Nerves stirred in my belly. “Um, Pete, Lissa was here at the clinic when I arrived today. You’re telling me she’s not out front now?”

  He paled and jerked his cell phone from his pocket. Strong fingers stabbed the keys, and he held the phone to his ear. Spencer paced, waiting. I watched Pete. Twice he rang for Lissa. When she didn’t answer, he stabbed another button. Spencer grabbed his arm, and Pete stilled with the phone halfway to his ear.

  “Calm down,” Spencer ordered. “Don’t alarm her.” Pete nodded.

  “Hey, baby, whatcha doin’?” To his credit, Pete’s voice shook just a
tiny bit. “Me? Working. I thought you were shopping with your sister today. Oh, she did? Yeah, okay. Listen, the sheriff’s signaling me to get off the phone. I’ll call you back when I’m free again.”

  Pete blushed, and I could imagine what Reeza was saying. He shuffled his feet, cut his gaze to Spencer, and then crouched over the phone to whisper, “I love you too. Bye!”

  “What did she say?” Spencer demanded.

  Pete straightened and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “She said Lissa asked her to reschedule, said she needed to be in the office today.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m worried, sheriff. Where’s my sister-in-law, and why isn’t she answering her phone? If anything’s happened to her—”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Pete seemed about to turn back the way he entered, but Spencer caught his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Sheriff, I need to make sure Lissa’s okay. She and Reeza are close. If something happened to her, it would kill my wife.”

  “You have a job to do.”

  “Sheriff!”

  I started to try to convince Spencer to let him go, but the hard expression in the sheriff’s eyes eased. He could be a grumbly bear when he was just starting a case. During the Alvin Aston murder case, I assumed Spencer’s attitude was because he was still new in town and had to prove himself. That might be true, but he was still super tense even with his past success. Maybe it was a part of his personality.

  “I promise, I’ll locate her,” Spencer said. “But I need you to process that scene before the coroner has a chance to move the body. Can you do that?”

  Pete looked like he felt he was letting his wife down, but I also knew Spencer had won the respect of his men in the short time he had been in Briney Creek. At last, Pete agreed, picked up his bag, and continued down the hall. As I watched him walk, I noticed the stiff set to his shoulders and turned back to Spencer.

  “I don’t know what’s happening, Spencer, but please for that young man and his wife’s peace of mind, find Lissa.”

  Spencer stuffed his notebook away. “I’ll find her, Makayla, but what you haven’t considered yet is, if she’s alive and well, was she involved in Dr. Bloomberg’s death?”

  I grasped his arm with one hand and pressed the other to my chest. He was absolutely right. Why else had Lissa left the office? I knew she was there. She had greeted me when I arrived and taken my vitals. Her face was unmistakable. She was almost a double of her sister, except of course being an older version, taller and probably somewhat less fit. While I accompanied Spencer to the front of the office, I prayed Lissa had no involvement with the case.

  Outside the clinic, Spencer walked with me to my car and allowed himself a touch at my waist. A warm sensation blanketed me, which was good considering the strong chill in the early winter air. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  I nodded and then hesitated. “I am, but…I was wondering.”

  He frowned. “You said yourself, Makayla. You’re glad Pete is back, and he is on the job.”

  “I thought you were going to fire him for running off.”

  “I can’t spare the manpower, obviously, and since the budget has already been arranged for him, I didn’t see a need to put myself through the headache of finding someone else.”

  I smiled up at him. “I think beneath the gruff exterior, you’re a softy at heart.”

  He bristled.

  “Another good thing is that I work for free, so the budget doesn’t matter.”

  “No, Makayla.”

  “I’m already involved. The person sent me the letter. Plus, I know Lissa’s address.”

  He looked like he wanted to choke me, but I kept my pretty smile blindingly bright and waited him out. Spencer’s nostrils flared, and he growled. “Come along, but keep quiet or else.”

  “Yes, sheriff,” I chirped and left my car where it sat and hurried to his SUV.

  Chapter Five

  My lie in telling Spencer I knew where Lissa Maxwell lived was just that—a lie. However, I knew how to get the information without too much fuss. If he had realized where we both were and the nature of our special little town, he would have come to the conclusion he too could obtain Lissa’s address, and he didn’t need to flash his badge to do it. Of course, he would have because Spencer was nothing if not a stickler for the law. That might be another reason the letter writer had contacted me first. With no evidence, Spencer couldn’t waltz into Dr. Bloomberg’s office and accuse him of anything. We weren’t yet sure what he might have been accused of.

  While we rode along route one, Spencer pulled the baggie from his pocket and held it up. “Do you know how to get the information off of this if need be?”

  “I can probably figure it out within a few minutes. Pete might too. I don’t know his skill level, but it doesn’t take rocket science.”

  “Are you sure about this, Makayla?”

  I held out my hand. He eyed me and then handed it over. I studied the device through the bag. “Yup, there’s the on/off switch, the camera, and the mic. This is definitely a video camera. Maybe with a click or flip somewhere, it takes just pictures, and probably inside here is—”

  “I believe you.” He looked grim and ran a hand over his face. “The office will have to be searched, all his files and his home, the computers there and at work.”

  We both knew the seriousness of what we were dealing with.

  “Did you see anyone or hear anything?”

  I thought back. “No, I was stuck in that room for what felt like forever.”

  “How long?”

  “What?”

  “How long, Makayla. I need to start building a timeline.”

  “Oh, right.” I chewed my lip, trying to remember. Outside my window, the small neat houses fell away, and we turned from a lined two-lane road to one that looked like it might accommodate two cars side-by-side but not without scraped paint and flipped hand signals.

  “An hour maybe. I heard the doctor greet the patient in the room next to mine when I first got into my room.”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “Probably.”

  He glared.

  “And Lissa said he was moving slower than normal today, so they were behind.”

  “Slower how, like extra busy, unmotivated? Sick?”

  “I can’t be sure. I never saw his face.”

  “Did you recognize any of the other patients?”

  “No.”

  “What about the assistants. How many?”

  “Two, that one woman you found me with and Lissa.”

  We drew up to the farmhouse where Edna had texted me Lissa lived. Her directions had been spot on and easy to follow. I made a mental note to give her an extra hug when I saw her later. That thought reminded me of our afternoon date, and I checked the time on my cell phone. Moaning, I had to accept that I wouldn’t make it on time and texted her quickly to let her know we might need to reschedule.

  Lissa lived in a farmhouse with dull white vinyl siding. A porch with columns at intervals but no railing ran along the right side, and all the windows appeared to have no curtains or shades on them. Without the reflection of the sun, one could probably see straight through to the back of the house, unless a wall obstructed the view.

  I climbed out of the SUV and hopped to the dirt drive. As I joined Spencer, who moved slightly ahead of me, his bearing stiff and on alert, a chicken wandered across our path. Another joined it, and we paused until the way was clear. Before we even reached the porch, the door flung open, and a man as big as any I had ever set eyes on filled the doorway. At least six five, thick and heavy, he sneered at Spencer, sharp dislike radiating off him.

  Without thinking, I took a step back, but Spencer placed a hand on his revolver. “Mr. Maxwell?”

  The man spit tobacco inches from Spencer’s boot, and the sheriff cast him a warning glance. I started to rethink having come along.

  “Th
e name’s Hardy Joe Russell. Maxwell is my wife’s maiden name, and you’ve got no right to be on my property, sheriff.”

  I gasped. Apparently, Hardy Joe didn’t know his wife used her maiden name at work, maybe everywhere else too. The air of unhappiness in her relationship I had picked up when we had discussed Reeza running off might not be far off the mark.

  “I’m looking for your wife,” Spencer said, undaunted. “Is she here?”

  “It’s none of your business if—”

  “Stop it, Hardy Joe.” Lissa appeared behind him and shoved him to squeeze by. “I’m here, sheriff.”

  She was sniffing, and her eyes were red.

  “I’m assuming you heard about your boss’s death?”

  Lissa seemed hesitant as to whether to admit the truth that was staring us in the face. “I heard,” she mumbled.

  Spencer nodded. “Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”

  “You’re not coming in here,” Hardy Joe bellowed. “I don’t like your kind, sheriff. I’d be within my rights to get my shotgun and run you off my land.”

  Spencer’s visage darkened dangerously. The snap on his gun holster might as well have been gunfire itself with the affect it had on me. I hadn’t been in the south long, so I’d only heard of these types of situations. Now, I’m not saying it happens often. To my mind, we might live in a small town, but we were all still civilized. So Hardy Joe threatening to shoot the sheriff, it seemed like something out of a movie for which I never purchased a ticket.

  “You just threatened an officer of the law, Mr. Russell. Now, I’m within my rights to arrest you.”

  “Hardy Joe, quit it,” Lissa demanded. “Please, sheriff, ignore my stupid husband. He doesn’t mean any harm. I promise he doesn’t. He would never shoot anybody.”

  “Don’t say that, Lissa!”

  She ignored her husband and stared with wide, frightened eyes at Spencer. I had the feeling the fear wasn’t all about Hardy Joe being tossed behind bars. In fact, Lissa might prefer that part. My guess was she just didn’t want to antagonize Spencer.