by Mary Burton
Now the skiff sat anchored in the middle of the quarry. Two policemen in the boat kept looking over the side into the water. They were waiting for the three divers below to come up to the surface. One of the divers was Mitch.
Two cops stood twenty feet away from Kelsey and chatted easily about a drug bust. Once or twice, they glanced at her, as if to make sure she'd not moved closer to the water's edge. Mitch's doing, she thought grimly. He didn't trust her not to suit up and dive. He was right to be worried. Any other time, she'd have known better not to attempt a dive. But today, reason took a backseat to emotion.
Kelsey pressed her fingers to her now throbbing forehead. She thought she'd gotten past all the old feelings of abandonment and worry. She hadn't. Ten years later and Donna still could turn her world upside down.
Stu limped toward her. He shifted the weight on his foot, as if it was really bothering him. "Don't worry. Mitch has everything under control."
Kelsey hadn't missed how naturally Mitch had fallen into the leadership role of this recovery operation. "You should sit down. Take some weight off that ankle."
"I will soon."
Kelsey wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "Donna always liked being the center of attention."
Stu smiled. "She'd be in her glory if she could see what was happening."
Just then, Mitch and the other divers surfaced in the center of the quarry. They climbed into the boat, removed their fins. The police officer sitting next to the engine started the motor. They rode to shore, their tanks glistening in the sunlight.
On shore, Mitch removed his mask and then shrugged off his tanks. He had Kelsey's camera hooked to his weight belt.
Her camera. She had forgotten all about dropping it. God, she had been rattled. That camera and its waterproof case had cost her a couple of grand.
The divers reached the shore and climbed out of the boat. Mitch said something to the other divers, then glanced up toward the shore at Kelsey.
Her insides tightened and for just an instant, she felt her knees buckle. "I don't like him."
"Who? Mitch?" Stu said. "Why?"
"Too bossy."
"You two did fight like cats and dogs when you worked in the shop."
"Yeah."
He scratched his head. "Never saw two people who couldn't agree on anything."
"I feel like I can't breathe when he's close." She shoved a shaky hand through her hair, now dried by the sun.
Mitch carried his tanks to his car, which he'd moved down the ramp closer to the quarry and the recovery team truck. He unzipped his scuba suit and peeled it off. Opening the front door of his Suburban, he pulled out a towel and dried his hands and face. He shrugged on an old T-shirt.
One arm leaning on the roof of the car, he rested a foot on the running board and reached inside for the radio mounted to the dash.
"The guy did just scramble a dive team in less than two hours," Stu said. "I don't know law enforcement, but I'd be willing to bet he pulled off a minor miracle."
She hated owing anyone, especially Mitch. "I know."
"You should do something nice for him."
"Like what, bake a pie?"
Stu chuckled. "How about saying thanks?"
Kelsey sighed. She was being a bitch. "How many times am I going to have to clean up one of Donna's messes?"
Stu put his hand on her shoulder. "I know she could be tough to deal with." He sighed. "I wish to hell Chris and I had investigated the wreck better. We spotted it at the end of our dive and didn't have the air to spend. We'd planned to come back the next day and push it over the ledge, but that damn tourist nearly ran me over and then Chris took off. If we'd been able to check the car out, I could have spared you all this."
"It's okay, Stu," she said managing a smile. He'd always tried to be there for her. "Sooner or later, I'd have found out."
The image of the skeleton lying on the front seat flashed in her mind. She felt like she did those first nights after Donna had left. Powerless.
"Mitch is headed this way," Stu said. "He doesn't look happy."
She straightened her shoulders. "Does he ever?"
Stu laughed. "He's got a wicked sense of humor, as a matter of fact. Throws a mean football spiral." His tone more serious, he added, "He's a good guy, Kelsey. You can trust him."
Her spine straightened. "I trust you, Stu. That's it."
His aviator glasses on, Mitch strode toward them. He walked with the swagger of a military man. She bet he still made his bed to regulation, corners tucked, blankets firm enough to bounce a quarter. The guy was definitely wrapped tight.
Mitch handed Kelsey her camera. Their fingers brushed and every muscle in her body constricted. Who was she kidding? She was the one wrapped tight.
"Thanks," she said her voice rusty. "Seems I owe you a lot."
"You don't owe me anything." His gaze lingered on her a beat too long and then shifted to Stu. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Stu glanced nervously at Kelsey. "Sure, Mitch."
"Wait a minute. What about me?" Kelsey said stepping forward. "I've a right to know what's going on down there."
Tension invaded Mitch's muscles. "It might be better if I talk to Stu first."
She could feel the hysteria building inside her. "You're not cutting me out of this one, Sheriff."
Mitch's shoulders stiffened. He obviously didn't like being told what to do. "All right. I just radioed the morgue. When the hearse arrives, we'll bring the body up."
Morgue. Hearse. The breath rushed from her chest. "It was Donna in the car, wasn't it?"
Mitch's face softened a fraction. "We don't know that, Kelsey."
"I do." A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
Stu laid his hand on her shoulder and said something to her but she barely registered the words.
"We need to wait for forensics and the autopsy," Mitch said. And then, as if reading her thoughts, he added, "We'll have a confirmation soon enough."
Soon. "How soon is soon?"
"We've got to get the body to shore and then get it to the medical examiner. A few days. Be patient," Mitch said.
Patient. The irony of his words made her choke with rage. "I've been patient for ten damn years, Sheriff," she said.
The policemen stopped what they were doing and turned in her direction. Mitch took her anger in stride.
The pained look in Stu's eyes reminded her of the social workers she'd dealt with all those times Donna had gotten arrested. "As soon as Mitch knows anything, he'll let you know."
Kelsey tightened her fingers into fists. She'd always imagined that Donna was out there somewhere alive and trying to turn her life around. In her dreams, her mother had realized that leaving her daughter had been the biggest mistake of her life. Donna wanted to return home to Kelsey, sober and loving. All the questions would have answers.
Her naiveté was almost laughable now.
There were no answers. Only more questions.
"Honey," Stu said, "you're exhausted. You need to rest."
Kelsey shoved aside her fatigue. "I'm not leaving."
"There's nothing you can do here," Mitch said.
She lifted her gaze to his mirrored shades. Her drawn expression stared back at her. "I always took care of Donna, even when I was real young. I'll wait until she is out of the water."
He was silent for a moment. "Fair enough."
She looked at Stu. "But I do want you to go back to town. Your leg must be throbbing by now."
Stu winced and she saw the strain in his face. He was hurting. "I'm not leaving you."
"She's right, Stu," Mitch said. "I'll have a policeman drive you back."
She handed Mitch her car keys. "Take my car."
Stu shook his head. "Thanks, you two, but I'm staying." His voice sounded shaky. He was only fifty-five, yet he looked seventy. This had all been a terrible strain on Stu. She reminded herself that he'd once loved Donna.
The tremor in his voice endangered Kelsey
's hold on her composure. She didn't want to lose him, too. "I'm used to being alone. And I can't focus on Donna if I'm worried about you. Please, for me, go back to town and take care of yourself."
Stu stared at her an extra beat, then shoved out a sigh. "I'm not leaving you, Kelsey."
She laid her hand on his shoulder. His skin felt cold. "Please, Stu, go home and put your foot up."
He laid his hand over hers. "How will you get back?"
"I'll bring her," Mitch offered.
His rusty voice radiated authority. And she'd have argued with Mitch just for the sake of it, if not for the look of relief on Stu's face.
She managed one of her best smiles. "See, all taken care of."
A hint of a smile tugged the edges of Mitch's mouth. She hated accepting his help and he knew it. He called out to a policeman, "Jeff, can you take Stu back in Kelsey's car?"
The tall thin policeman nodded. "Be glad to."
Stu looked past her to Mitch. "You'll call me as soon as the body is up?"
"Promise," Mitch said.
"All right." Stu kissed Kelsey on the cheek. "Call me the minute you get back to town."
"That's the second promise you've asked me to make today," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Making promises goes against my grain, but for you I'll make an exception."
Stu chuckled. "I'm old. I have a right to be greedy."
Kelsey handed Jeff her keys and then helped Stu up the hill. His limp was more pronounced and his shoulders stooped.
Jeff slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat back before starting the engine. He backed the car out of the parking area. Only when the car was out of sight did she turn and walk back toward Mitch. "Stu was always so full of life. I never figured he'd get old."
"He's got a lot of life left in him." The concern in Mitch's voice yanked at her heart. "Stu cares a lot about you."
His kindness threatened to shatter her shaky composure. "Do me a favor. Don't be nice to me. I don't trust nice. Whether it was Donna, the social workers or you, nice always signaled trouble—the rent wasn't paid, a stint in a foster home was coming or you didn't know what to do with an emotional, love-struck teenager."
His jaw tightened, released. "When's the last time you ate? Your skin is pasty and there are dark circles under your eyes."
She managed a shaky grin. "There, that's more like it."
Shaking his head, he strode to his car and grabbed a thermos from behind the seat and a pack of Nabs from a cooler. He opened the red cap, poured coffee into a cup and handed it to her.
She stared into the steaming cup. "Thanks."
He tore open the packet of crackers. "Sorry, no cream and sugar."
Warmth from the hot cup seeped into her cold fingers. "Black's fine."
He handed her an orange square cracker. "I can still have one of my men drive you."
Kelsey sipped her coffee. Good. She ate the cracker. To her relief, her stomach settled immediately. "I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who killed Donna."
Her comment caught him off guard. "Why would you think your mother was murdered?"
Kelsey fingered the cross that dangled from the chain around her neck. "Because of the company she kept. Petty thieves. Shoplifters. A few addicts."
Mitch shoved out a sigh. "When I talked to Stu earlier, he said she seemed on edge those last couple of days she was in town. What do you remember about those last days?"
"She kept talking about the money she was coming into. She said once she was done with her business here, we'd be set for life. No more traveling. A real home. I didn't pay any attention because Donna had said it all before."
Mitch shook his head. "Did she say where the money was coming from?"
"No. For once she was very quiet about her plans. She wasn't even drinking much those last couple of days. I could tell because her hands trembled when she lit her cigarettes."
Mitch stared at the quarry. "Stu talked about Donna from time to time. He said he always figured she'd end up a movie star or married to a rich man."
Her mouth curved in a half smile. "She had a talent for getting under a man's skin. Stu was in love with her. They dated pretty seriously in high school. He was the one person in town who kept up with Donna. And no matter how nasty she could be, he never had a bad thing to say about her to me."
"What happened with them?"
"She left Stu for a richer man."
"Your father?"
"Maybe. I don't know." She sipped her coffee.
"You don't know who your father is?" His words were clipped.
Donna had never told Kelsey who her father was, no matter how much she'd begged. Not knowing had fueled her dreams of finding her father who she hoped would one day find her and make everything better. One day never came. "Not all of us have the Leave It to Beaver life."
Her comment had a bite to it that he hadn't missed. "Children deserve a home." He spoke softly, but there was steel behind each word.
The image of a home—a real house with a front porch and a yard—had been another one of her dreams when she'd been a child. She'd given up on fairy tales a long time ago.
Unsettled, she took a step away from him. Mitch Garrett was not going to let her feel sorry for herself. "So, do you moonlight with social services?"
His dark glasses tossed back her reflection, but she imagined his eyes had hardened. "Do you always have a smart answer for everything?"
She shrugged. "On my good days."
He muttered an oath. "You haven't changed a bit."
She shoved aside memories and regrets. "I'm not a naive eighteen-year-old anymore, Sheriff."
His broad shoulders stiffened. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Good to know she wasn't the only one who felt awkward.
The sound of car wheels crunching against gravel sounded from the road tore his attention from her.
"That's the hearse," Mitch said, his voice brusque.
"You're not going to bring the car up?"
"Not for now. We're bringing the body up. I've got to go down to the quarry for a minute. Stay put. I want you where I can see you."
"I'm not going anywhere."
A large black car parked at the edge of the parking lot. Mitch left her to meet the driver. Once the stretcher and body bag was out of the car, the two men walked down to the edge of the water.
Mitch signaled the policeman in the skiff, who in turn radioed down to the divers as he drove the flat-bottomed boat to the quarry's shore. The driver took the bag from Mitch and drove back out to the middle of the quarry. A diver appeared from under the water and took the bag.
Mitch strode back toward her. Sunlight reflected on his aviator sunglasses. He stood next to her in silence.
She hugged her arms around her chest as she stared at all the police and rescue men.
The divers surfaced and gave the thumbs-up. A body bag rose to the surface. Water bubbles gurgled to the surface. The divers hooked the black bag to the side of the boat. It floated by the boat.
Kelsey's stomach tightened. She felt sick.
Mitch glanced at her. His frown deepened. "We'll stay back here while the men do their work."
"Okay."
He raised an eyebrow. "No argument?"
She couldn't even manage a weak smile. "Sorry, fresh out. Maybe tomorrow."
The boat's motor hummed as the skiff moved closer to shore. Minutes passed slowly.
Mitch yanked off his sunglasses. "You look like you're going to pass out."
She wanted to throw up. "I'm fine."
The boat skidded against the rocky shore. Two other officers took the body bag. A cop opened the zipper a fraction so that the water could drain. He met Mitch's gaze and nodded as if to confirm what they'd seen earlier.
None of this felt real.
Suddenly Kelsey broke into a full run toward the bag. She shouldered her way past the police and looked into the sack. A thick mossy smell drifted up as the water draine
d. In the bag was the skeleton.
Years of hoping and worrying exploded. Suddenly, her head started spinning. Her mother really hadn't abandoned her. Her mother had died.
Mitch laid his hand on her shoulder. Warmth and strength radiated into her. She remembered a time when his strong arms had wrapped around her body and, for a few precious hours, she had felt safe and secure.
His voice was low and soft next to her ear. "Let's get out of here."
Chapter 4
Kelsey climbed into the front cab of Mitch's Suburban and shut the door. She soaked up the sun's warmth trapped in the leather seats, A chill shuddered through her body. She'd never been so cold before.
Mitch slid into the driver's seat beside her, put the keys in the ignition and started the car. Silent, he drove down the gravel drive toward the main road. The wooded landscape skidded by in a blur of green. When gravel met pavement, Mitch paused, checked for traffic and then turned left onto the highway. Billboards and vegetable stands dotted the roadside before giving way to gas stations and then strip malls as they neared town.
Grant's Forge was over one hundred and fifty years old. It had seen Civil War battles, the loss of the rail lines and in the 1970s, the flight of businesses to the outlying strip malls. By the early 1980s, the town's buildings were run-down and in danger of demolition. Then several prominent ladies in town took it upon themselves to revitalize the dying historic center. Timed with the Washington, D.C. real estate explosion, the crumbling buildings quickly found a second life as host to tony shops and restaurants that catered to the busy urbanites looking for weekend getaways. The town was described as "an idyllic spot, a gold mine of history and amusements reminiscent of days gone by" in Traveler magazine.
To Kelsey, Grant's Forge conjured up memories she'd just as soon forget.
The sun glinted off the face of Mitch's gold wrist-watch, drawing her gaze to his long fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. She remembered those hands on her body.
Memories.
There'd been a time when she'd shared so much with this man—her hopes, her dreams, her body—but now he was a stranger. And she'd never felt more alone and isolated.
