Sidearms and Silk (A Nash Mystery Book 1)

by Vella Day

  It looked warm, and warm was what counted. Dax slipped his arms into the heavy wool sweater that smelled of mothballs and whose sleeves didn’t reach his wrists by a good two inches, but he could tell his wearing it meant the world to Margaret. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

  She beamed. “You look so much like Charley, I swear.” She sniffed. “Don’t you two stay out late.”

  “Nana, this isn’t a date. We’ll be back in an hour.”

  Margaret made a shooing motion. “Remember, the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be home.”

  Dax smiled then turned to Jessie. “My flashlight broke while I was in the woods. Do you still have the one I lent you yesterday?” He held his breath.

  “Sure.” She shot him a puzzled look, but he didn’t intend to discuss his deep-seated issues with her—not now, not ever.

  Jessie dug through her carry all and pulled out his lifesaver. After making sure it worked, he followed her out.

  He didn’t quite understand why she needed to inspect the plant every night, but he’d follow her wherever she went. She might not think danger was lurking, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

  The drive out to the plant took them through town and past a small housing development. He’d seen the construction project when he’d first arrived but hadn’t realized how far away it actually was.

  Once the town’s light disappeared from view, they headed down a dark, narrow road where trees were holding hands across the pavement. It might be pretty in the daytime, but right now, the scene was making him queasy—like right before a panic attack started.

  God, he didn’t need this. He refused to break down in front of Jessie, not wanting her to see what a mess he really was. It would kill him if she saw him drop to his knees and fight for his next breath for no apparent reason. His rational side knew his claustrophobia was all in his head, and he wished like hell he could just get over his fear.

  He coughed to cover his unease. “So, do you know of a good repair shop that can fix a gas tank?”

  She glanced over at him, looking as if she wanted to ask him about why he seemed so nervous. “Walter’s Repair Shop is the only place in town that does any kind of body work.”

  A body shop. Good. He needed to think about getting his truck fixed and not on how dark the sky had grown. “How long do you think he’ll take?” He prayed she’d say less than a week.

  “If Walter has to order a part, there’s no telling when you’ll get your truck back. It could take a few weeks.”

  He dropped his head against the seat, and as she rounded a corner, the plant loomed in front of them. Dax clasped the heavy light in his hands as Jessie pulled to a stop. The place looked bigger close up. “You ever find any problems on your rounds?” He didn’t need to be here any longer than necessary.

  “Other than a bunch of mischievous kids, no.” She pushed open the driver’s side door. “Come on. If you take the south side, I’ll take the north. We can be finished in no time.”

  Dax inhaled, trying to act casual, but he feared he wouldn’t be successful. He slipped out of the cruiser and into the night. Fortunately, he was able to keep his back to her to ensure she wouldn’t notice the panic that was surely crossing his face. He gripped the flashlight, determined not to drop the damned thing again.

  Wind whistled through the trees and leaves rustled along the ground. Out of habit, he blew out a breath to test for the cold. Yup, frost was in the air tonight. Dax swept his light along the building’s perimeter, careful to avoid the cement bricks and lumber carelessly strewn on the ground.

  First, he checked inside the cranes’ cabs before working his way to the back of the building. As he scoped out the area, his light caught something red—a color that didn’t belong among the gray walls and brown wooden beams.

  As he approached the tractor, a piece of fabric that looked like silk, flapped in the wind, partly attached to the seat. “Hey, Jessie. I think I found something,” he shouted.

  A moment later, her light rounded the corner, and he was surprised by his sense of relief that no evil spirit had whisked her away. You’re an idiot, Mitchell. Crazy thoughts coming out of nowhere are not a good sign. No one was out there but them.

  “What did you find?”

  He fingered the soft material. “What do you make of this?”

  She aimed her light on the fabric. “Not exactly something a man would wear, or a woman in construction for that matter.”

  Dax didn’t like it. “Why don’t you bag the evidence while I take another look around.”

  “Like I carry forensic stuff with me?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I’ll store the scrap someplace safe.”

  Dax appreciated her helpful attitude. He then mentally marked off the surrounding area in a grid pattern and began looking for signs of a struggle or a woman’s footprint, anything to indicate a female had been there.

  As he scoped out the place, his mind jumped to Sadie, even though the mine was miles from there. If only he had some idea what happened to her, he’d know how to better proceed.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d covered every inch of the place but found nothing else. The only area left to search was the forest bordering the building site, and the dark woods was the last place he wanted to go.

  Bats, snakes, and rabid animals didn’t bother him, nor did jumping out of a perfectly good airplane or disarming a bomb, but standing around in the dark haunted him.

  Jessie slipped next to him. “I checked inside, and nothing’s been disturbed. You find anything else?”

  “No, but tomorrow morning we should look in the woods.”

  She smiled, grabbed his arm, and dragged him forward. “No time like the present.”

  He dug his heels in. “We can’t see anything at night with only a quarter moon to light the way.”

  “The moon’s practically full.” She waved her flashlight. “Besides, that’s what God made these puppies for.” She took off. “I just want to take a quick look,” she called over her shoulder.

  Dax raced after her—or at least he did his best imitation of racing, given his leg was acting up again. “There must be hundreds of acres in there. We could get lost.”

  She spun around and flashed her light on his chest. “Why, Dax Mitchell. Are you afraid of the dark?”

  His chest constricted at being caught. Shit. “Certainly not. Let’s go.” Those were the hardest words he’d said in a long time.

  He tried to convince himself he could do this. The last thing he wanted was to look like a fool when his imaginary demons were ripping the air from his lungs. His ego pushed him forward, but he let Jessie lead. Her light, together with his, helped ease the pressure on his chest.

  A few minutes later, Jessie stopped and ran a finger along a broken branch. “See here? Something caused this to break. The ends are still green.”

  Given the break was shoulder height he doubted a deer had caused the crack. Most likely, the offender had been human.

  They moved farther into the black forest, and with each step, Dax’s breaths became more labored. He was about to swallow his pride and tell her he couldn’t go on when his light caught something peeking out from under a leaf. He knelt down and wiped away the detritus. “Jessie?”

  She turned and rushed back. “What is it?”

  He picked up the metal object and rubbed off the dirt with his thumb. “A woman’s button, and from the looks of its ornateness, if that’s a word, I’m guessing it belonged to someone older.”

  She knelt beside him. “No rust on it either, which means it must be a recent addition. Good find. Let’s keep going.”

  Dax was surprised her words of praise brought more air into his body. He might as well follow her since he was already in hell.

  When something rustled off to his left, he swung his light in a large arc, and shot his beam in the direction of the sound. “Psst.”

  She paused and joined her light with his. A raccoon and two babies froze in their combined beams,
and he almost laughed at his relief.

  “They’re adorable,” Jessie said, “but hardly the hardcore criminal we’re looking for.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t meet anyone sinister tonight.” Not that he couldn’t handle himself in a fight, but he wanted to do battle under better conditions—like when the sun was up.

  Jessie continued along the path that was full of small rocks and roots until they came to their umpteenth fork. “Which way do you think we should go?” she asked, looking around.

  “You’re the boss.”

  She nodded and chose the path to the right. They’d traveled a good ten minutes when she stepped off to the side and ducked under a large rhododendron tree whose branches cascaded to the ground. “Ah, Dax?”

  “What is it?”

  “I might have found a body.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dax pushed aside the half-bare mountain laurel branches to expose a mound of dirt, sticks, and leaves that was about the length of a body. His heart sank. Poor Jessie was going to be devastated if this was someone she knew.

  He was still haunted by the sight of his first body. It had taken him days, and a lot of luck, to locate the ten-year old buried in a field in rural Maryland. Only an autopsy provided the identity of the boy who’d been tortured, carelessly tossed in a shallow grave, and eaten by bugs. The thought of what happened to him still made Dax sick.

  He blinked, and the raw image in front of him brought back fresh anger. It didn’t matter the bastard who’d brutalized the boy had been caught and executed; his death didn’t bring the son back to the grieving parents.

  As Jessie started to bend down, Dax took hold of her arm and gently drew her away from the grave. “I don’t think you need to see what’s under there.”

  “Do you think it’s S-Sadie?” Her voice cracked.

  “That or the sheriff, but I don’t think red was his color.”

  Jessie glared up at him. He’d tried to bring a little levity into a very grave situation, no pun intended, but apparently she wasn’t ready for that kind of humor. Too many years on the Baltimore force had hardened him.

  “I have to go b-b-back to the station and g-get a shovel. We need to dig her up.” The wind couldn’t seem to leave Jessie alone, forcing her to push her hair out of her face. “It’s all my fault,” she choked out.

  Her emotions seemed to be running away from her—not that he blamed her.

  “You had nothing to do with her death. Besides, we don’t even know this is Sadie.” She moved in the direction of the cruiser. “Come on. We have to call the Medical Examiner.”

  He wanted to refocus her grief away from the emotional to the practical. Dax didn’t add that they’d need some helpers to transport the body the mile to the car, as well as some much-needed strong coffee. Lots of extra light was a given.

  The wind shot through his wool sweater, and Jessie rubbed her hands up and down the sleeves of her nylon jacket. He itched to share his body heat, but he bet she’d balk if he touched her. He wished he understood why Jessie acted as if showing grief would make her less of a law enforcement agent.

  Forget it. He wouldn’t be here long enough to follow through if he did get her to loosen up. Besides, Jessie deserved better than a washed up homicide detective with a bum leg who couldn’t stand being in the dark without panic ripping his soul in two.

  As though a hoard of terrorists were after her, she suddenly took off through the woods toward the crest of the hill. He rushed after her and a stab of leg pain nearly felled him to his knees. Dax straightened and drew in a deep breath. He had to push on, had to get out of the forest, and had to make sure Jessie stayed safe.

  When she reached the trailhead, she turned around and flashed her light on the path between them. “Dax, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I should have waited for you.”

  He waved her on. “I’ll catch up.” He didn’t need her sympathy, or anyone else’s. It wasn’t her fault he’d missed locating the damned land mine. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get out of the area by nightfall, he would have found the explosive device, and Evan would still be alive.

  Jessie disappeared down the hill, and only the faint glow of her flashlight illuminated the tree limbs. Fuck. Why did he have to show her that scrap of red material? If only he’d kept his mouth shut and suggested they come back tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t be here in the dark. But he was, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. As his captain used to preach, once a ball started downhill, there was no choice but to follow it.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dax reached the cruiser where he slipped across the seat from Jessie. The relief from the wind and cold relaxed the tension in his chest. “You okay?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” she said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

  The sarcasm cut off his reply. Before he even got a chance to fasten his seatbelt, Jessie peeled away from the construction site, acting like demons were chasing her. He certainly could relate to those. He even had names for his—Mr. Dark and Mr. Guilt.

  Not needing to add to her anxieties by chatting about the dead, Dax kept quiet as Jessie traveled down the long, eerie road. He understood that her mind would be sifting through all the possibilities, accepting some, tossing away others. She’d be asking if the body was Sadie’s, Clinton DuPree’s, or belonged to some vagrant.

  Less than twenty minutes later, they pulled in front of Jessie’s station. To his surprise, the main road was stacked with cars, and he wondered what the big attraction was. When he pushed open the door, music filtered from the bar down the street, answering his question.

  Jessie jumped out of the cruiser, slammed the door, and raced up the three steps, acting as if he hadn’t come along. Easing his leg out of the car, he winced then carefully climbed the steps, needing the handrail tonight. Jessie was already on the phone when he walked inside.

  “At the cement p-pl-plant… Right. I’ll meet you there… No, I’ll bring a shovel… okay, bye.”

  Jessie rubbed her stomach then rushed over to Clinton’s desk. “That was Doc Whitmore. He’s meeting us there.” She whipped open a squeaky, wooden drawer, and pulled out the digital camera then tugged open a second drawer. “We had a Polaroid, but I can’t seem to find it, though now that I think about it, I don’t think Clinton was able to find film for it anymore. Dammit.” She pointed to a dented, four-drawer file cabinet. “Our forensic kit is in there.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  He removed the large metal box that took up one entire drawer and set the kit on Clinton’s now clean desk. Inside were vials, latex gloves, cotton balls, swabs, tweezers, lifting tape, and other assorted paraphernalia that he’d need to process the scene. The kit was neatly organized and looked like it had hardly been used.

  He then checked a second drawer and found something more important—a large flashlight. To make sure the batteries still worked, he flicked it On then Off.

  Jessie called someone else and seemed to be on hold quite a while. This town really needed cell reception. She kept her back to Dax as she wore a path between the entrance and her desk. The woman sure could log some hours on the pacing circuit.

  “Tom, thank God I got a hold of you. It’s Jessie. I need your help. I found a gravesite over by the new cement plant.” She went on to explain the need for two workers and one single-wheeled gurney to transport the body through the woods. She hung up and her shoulders slumped. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Can’t believe what?”

  “That Sadie could be dead.” She ran a hand through her hair, but the curls sprang back—soft ones that he bet smelled like springtime. “I warned Nana and her friends not to go out anywhere alone, but they wouldn’t listen. I should have been more insistent.” She shook her head. “They are the most stubborn women I know.”

  He stepped over to her. “We can’t control what others do.”

  Jessie turned away and a little part of him ached from disappointment.

  She wr
apped her arms around her chest. “A small part of my brain knows I’m not at fault, but my heart tells me I could have done something more.”

  “Hey, come here,” Dax said. She looked up at him, pain filling her eyes. Without asking permission, Dax gathered her in his arms and held her tight, absorbing all of her goodness.

  He expected her to pull away, but she placed her palms on his chest and her head on his shoulder. A few seconds later, she cleared her throat and leaned back. She looked off to the side, as if she had been embarrassed to accept his warmth. “Thanks. I need to make some, um, coffee.”

  She stepped over to the coffee maker and tapped the side, probably to see if it was warm, then flipped the switch.

  Dax stepped behind her. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll need all your strength before the night is through. As I said, we don’t know the body in the grave is Sadie’s.”

  “I can only pray it’s not.”

  “Why don’t you find the shovel, and I’ll take care of the coffee,” he offered.

  She gave him a brief smile. “Thanks.”

  Poor Jessie. She was too much of an I-won’t-let-anyone-help me type of woman for her own good. From what her grandmother told him, both Jessie’s dad and Margaret’s husband had been sheriff, and Jessie always felt pressure to live up to the Nash name. It was a tall order in a town where women weren’t always given an equal chance.

  She returned with the shovel a moment later. “I need to let Nana know not to expect us back anytime soon.”

  “I bet she’d appreciate it.”

  Jessie was rather curt on the phone, but he understood her need not to let Margaret ask any questions.

  Ten minutes later, with a coffee mug to go, they were back on the road, heading into the darkness. When they arrived, the medical examiner’s station wagon was at the plant, with his engine running, brights on.

  Jessie sucked in a large, audible breath. “I really don’t want to do this.”

  Dax placed a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to. I’m sure Doc Whitmore and I can process the scene.” I don’t mind losing my breath and feeling like I’m about to die, but for you, Jessie, I’ll handle it.