by Mary Burton
She pulled out her cell phone, ready to call 911 if need be. Then she realized the battery was dead— drained from telling the children's fortunes with the Mystic I Ching game on her phone. Damn.
"I've got the police department on speed-dial," she-said in a clear voice. Silence. "Mitch Garrett can be here in minutes to whup your ass. So if you are here, get lost."
A mouse scrambled in a distant dark corner. She jumped. When she realized it was a rodent and not a person, she felt foolish. "And I'm buying big mousetraps first thing in the morning."
She considered calling Mitch from the land line, but decided against it. A: she was pretty sure now that this was not an emergency. And B: the last thing she needed to do was invite Mitch into her house. She knew after he searched the house, she'd end up in bed with him. And that was not going to happen.
Kelsey stood in the entryway for several minutes. She was glad now she'd replaced Ruth's sixty-watt bulbs with one-hundreds. However, the trade-off was that she couldn't turn on more than five lights sharing a circuit at one time or she'd blow a fuse.
"Coming upstairs," she shouted. "Gun in hand, finger on 911."
Nothing.
Her nerves relaxed and by the time she'd reached the top of the stairs, she was feeling really foolish. She turned the lights on upstairs and went to her room. She closed and locked the door behind her, plugged her cell phone into the charger and set it on the nightstand. She opened her window to let the fresh air into the room. She was on the second floor and decided only Spider-Man could climb the north face of the house.
She changed into the oversized black T-shirt that she always wore to bed, washed her face and brushed her teeth.
By the time she'd climbed into bed, the surge of adrenaline had drained away and exhaustion had turned her limbs to mush.
She shut off the light at her bedside table and lay in the dark. She surrendered to fatigue and closed her eyes. Her muscles relaxed. And her mind drifted back to the evening she'd spent with Mitch. It had been so nice.
A car door slammed closed. By the sound of it, the car was parked directly across the street.
Kelsey sat up in bed, fully awake. Her heart thundering against her ribs, she hurried across the cold wood floor to the window.
A streetlamp shone down on the dark car. Inside was a figure clad in black. The driver glanced up toward her window as if knowing she'd be watching, raised a gloved hand and waved before driving off.
Chapter 11
Nighttime had a way of exaggerating fear. Kelsey knew this from experience. Anyone could have been in that car, including Mrs. Baugh across the street or Mr. Wellington from next door. And though she thought the driver had waved to her, she couldn't be certain.
Despite all the reasoning, Kelsey didn't fall asleep until very, very late last night. Waiting and listening, she'd laid in bed, cell phone in hand, until almost three in the morning.
Now this morning, at ten past nine, Kelsey's eyes itched and her muscles ached as she pulled down the steps to the attic.
She glanced up the darkened stairs. The attic was the last place she wanted to go, but she suspected if there was any clue to Donna's past, it was up there.
She rechecked her fully charged cell, which she'd clipped to her cutoff jeans, and then climbed the stairs. A spider web brushed her face and she viciously swiped it away. The web clung to her skin and hair. God, she hated spiders!
With one foot remaining on the pull-down steps, she took a deep breath. "Don't be such a baby, Kelsey," she muttered. She climbed the last step. Searching for the light cord, she stood and immediately bumped her head on the rafter.
"I hate this. I hate this. I hate this," she said as she rubbed the tender spot on her head. She found the light and clicked it on.
The attic was filled with boxes and unused furniture, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she'd first thought. No doubt the climb up here was too much for Ruth in recent years, which was why she'd chosen to hoard her papers downstairs.
Kelsey blew the dust off a brown cardboard box and opened it. Inside were children's clothes. She lifted a faded red smock dress and wondered whom it had belonged to. There was nothing written on the box to indicate this. She replaced the smock in the box. There had to be fifty different boxes and trunks up here.
She started down the stairs with the first box. This was going to be a long day.
By midday, the upstairs hallway was filled with a dozen boxes. She'd gone through them all and so far had found nothing.
As she squatted in front of a hat box filled with parking ticket stubs, her cell rang and she glanced down at the number on the display. She recognized the number of Grant's Forge's Sheriff's Office— Mitch. Memories of the kiss they'd shared warmed her skin.. She'd not expected to talk to him so soon. She was getting too close.
She let the phone ring until her voice mail picked it up. I Missed Call blinked on her screen. She silenced the ringer and clipped the phone back to her waistband.
By five o'clock, the front hallway was filled with boxes from the attic. She'd found some treasures—pictures of people she didn't know in a shoe box, a dried and withered wedding bouquet in a hatbox and warped records that dated back fifty years. Only a few boxes remained in the attic, along with an extra large steamer trunk that was too cumbersome for her to move alone. To add to her frustration, the trunk was locked.
Kelsey swiped the sweat from her forehead as she set down a box. Dirt streaked her white T-shirt and strands of blond hair had slipped free of her ponytail.
The front doorbell rang, and she hesitated. After the doll and a possible late-night visitor, she wasn't so anxious to open the door. She moved to the top of the stairs.
"Kelsey! It's me, Mitch."
She pressed her palms to her cheeks. Oh, great.
He pounded on the door. She sensed if she didn't answer, he'd send the Marines in next. "Coming."
She smoothed the wisps of hair back off her face and opened the door. Mitch stood on the doorstep dressed in faded jeans, a gray T-shirt and running shoes. He held a large paper bag in his hand that smelled of Mexican takeout. From behind his aviators, he glared down at her. "What happened to you?"
The concern in his voice caught her off guard. "I've been up in the attic all day."
"Ever think to answer your phone?"
"I silenced the ringer." She glanced down at her phone. 5 Missed Calls blinked back at her now. Six forty-two p.m. "Sorry."
His gaze traveled past her into the hall. "Mind if I come in?"
"The place is a wreck." She stepped back from the door to give him a better view of the hallway.
"Looks like I came just in time." He held up the bag. "I bet you haven't eaten all day."
Again her stomach grumbled on cue. "I've been busy." She stepped aside and let him in. "Why is it you are always feeding me?"
"Have you eaten today?"
"No."
"Someone's got to look after you since you won't do it yourself."
She let the loaded comment pass.
His gaze traveled over the boxes and then to her grimy jeans and T-shirt. Vivid blue eyes lingered an extra beat on a scrape on her knee that she'd gotten when she'd slipped on the attic steps earlier.
Nervously, she tucked a hand in her jeans pocket. "The food smells good."
He cleared his throat. "Let's grab forks and a couple of plates."
Grateful for the task, she hurried to the kitchen and grabbed utensils and paper napkins. She washed her hands. "Why don't we sit on the back porch? I think I've inhaled a pound of dust today and could use the fresh air," she said. And inside the house his presence seemed to take over a room.
He followed her into the kitchen. "Sounds good."
She opened the back door and the two went outside and sat on the back porch step. The heat of the day had passed, but the sky remained crystal-blue.
Mitch opened the bag, pulled out six different aluminum food containers and two sodas. "I got a little of everything becaus
e I didn't know what you'd like to eat."
She chose the taco salad with chicken and poured some salsa on it. "It all smells great."
He ladled an enchilada onto his plate. For a moment, neither spoke as they ate.
"So, you find anything interesting in the attic?"
"More junk." She took a sip of soda. "But there is a trunk I saw. It'll take a couple of men to bring it down and it's locked."
"I can help you with the lock tonight. Later, I'll get one of my brothers and we'll get it down for you."
"I'd appreciate the help with the lock. I have to admit, I'm dying to see what's inside."
"So how are you faring in the house? There are a lot of memories here."
"The memories I can handle, it's the other stuff that gets a little creepy."
"Other stuff?"
She had his full attention and now regretted her complaint. But there was no getting around it now. "Yesterday, someone left a Kewpie doll on my front porch." She sighed, chilled by the memory. "Its eyes had been scratched out."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Frustration coated each word.
"I didn't want to spoil anyone's day. And I didn't want to give whoever left it the satisfaction of ruining my day."
He set his plate down. "Any other problems?"
"Not exactly problems."
He leaned toward her. "Then what exactly?"
"I got a little creeped out last night when I was in the house. I got the feeling someone had been here."
He shoved out a breath as if he were trying to keep a rein on his temper. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I figured it was my imagination." Now with him here, her fears did seem distant and foolish.
"Anything else?"
"Right after I turned out the lights, I heard someone get into a car and drive off."
"You should have called me," he said tightly.
Her appetite gone, she set her fork down. Dependence on him was the last thing she needed. "I've been taking care of myself for years. I think I can handle a case of the jitters and a car driving off."
His jaw tightened and released. "I don't like this."
"It's just pranks. I saw my share when I was in high school."
"I got two dead bodies and a missing man. Everything is suspicious until I prove otherwise." He started to repack the food boxes in the bag. "Let's get this in the refrigerator and have a look at the lock on the trunk. Then I'm checking you into a hotel."
"No one's chasing me off," she said.
He stood. "We'll talk about this after we have a look at the trunk."
Outside, a lone figure sat in an old pickup truck parked down the street from Kelsey's house. The driver had arrived just as Mitch had disappeared into the house. Mitch Garrett was an unplanned complication. But then life had been a series of complications since Stu had decided to open the quarry. The old bastard was quicker than first thought. A second slower and he'd have been dead and this whole mess would have been avoided.
The driver tightened gloved hands on the steering wheel. There were a good many messes to handle, but none was unmanageable. It was important to stay focused on the list of problems and deal with them one by one.
Donna had been a lying slut and anyone could have killed her.
Chris was no longer a problem.
The second body found in the quarry had been in the water five years. Chances were very slim it could ever be linked to Donna.
And Kelsey, well, she'd been given warnings that she'd chosen to ignore. Now it was time to close the hymn book on her once and for all.
The driver climbed out of the car and strolled toward Ruth Warren's house. Kelsey and Mitch passed by the front windows and went up the stairs. They were headed back to the attic where Kelsey had been all day.
A gas can in hand, the driver opened the back door with a spare key copied from the key left under the pot and listened as they climbed the steps. Perfect. Killing two birds with one stone.
Glancing briefly at the boxes in the hallway, the driver went through the kitchen and down to the basement toward a pile of papers and spread gasoline all over them. The driver struck a match and tossed it on the gas.
Flames exploded, devouring the papers.
Within ten minutes, the house would be in flames.
Smoke was already filling the basement when the driver climbed the stairs. The driver moved to the front door, turned the key in the dead bolt and left through the kitchen, now filling with smoke.
Mitch bumped his head on the rafter. "Damn!"
Kelsey switched the light on. "I've hit it a couple of times myself today."
He rubbed his head. "No problem."
"The trunk is here."
Mitch pulled a penknife out of his pocket and crouched in front of the lock. Within seconds, it clicked open.
"Mighty fancy burglary skills, Sheriff," Kelsey teased.
He grinned as he flipped the trunk open. "I'm a jack-of-all-trades, baby."
The grin on his face completely transformed him. Hard features suddenly looked boyish and playful.
She remembered the man she'd loved eight years ago. In those days, she'd stay awake at night just thinking about him.
With an effort, she focused on the contents of the trunk. The first thing to catch her eyes was a pile of yellowed letters tied with faded red ribbons. She picked up the stack. "The letters are addressed to Donna Warren. There is no postmark or return address."
Mitch dug through the contents and found a cheerleader uniform neatly folded. "Donna cheered for the high school."
"I don't think it was for long. She got into some kind of trouble with one of the coaches."
"Like what?"
"I think she slept with him."
"O-Okay." He pulled out a yearbook next and thumbed through the pages. He found Donna with the junior class. Mitch shook his head. "It always throws me when I see a picture of your mother. Except for the eyes, you are a dead ringer for her."
Kelsey peered over his shoulder. It was as if she were looking at herself. A cold chill snaked down her spine. "I've never seen a picture of her that young."
He handed her the book. "Pretty amazing."
"She looked very different by the time I was fifteen. She'd lost a lot of weight, her hair was shorter, brittle, and there were wrinkles around her eyes."
"Hard living."
Kelsey flipped through the book, looking for other pictures of Donna. She found her with the cheerleaders, but Donna appeared in no other group shots. When Kelsey reached the last page, a letter fluttered out. She picked up the envelope.
"What's that?" Mitch said.
"I'm not sure," she said opening the envelope.
Inside was some kind of official document. She unfolded it and inside was a Certificate of Birth.
"It's my birth certificate!"
Kelsey skimmed the names. "Mother: Donna Warren. Father: Unknown. No surprises there." Despite her easy tone, she had to fight off disappointment. She'd always hoped one day she'd find her father. She read on. "Place of Birth: Richmond, Virginia. Says here I was born at the Medical College of Virginia."
Mitch rested his hand on his knee. "A state hospital."
"Donna never had medical insurance."
"I wonder who covered the bill?"
"My father, maybe."
"A good possibility. Let's get some of this stuff downstairs where the lighting is better. I'd like to read through those letters."
Kelsey started to root through the box. "There's a letter here from a Richmond attorney. William Cranston. 701 Main Street, Richmond." The postmark was dated just weeks before her birth. She opened the letter. The reference line said Pending Adoption.
Mitch froze. "Do you smell smoke?"
Kelsey sat back on her heels. She inhaled. "I think I do."
"Let's get out of here."
"What about all this stuff? If the house is on fire, we'll lose it."
He wrapped his hand around her arm and started pushing her t
oward the attic stairs. "Better it than us."
Kelsey held on to the sides of the ladder and climbed out of the attic. Fingers of smoke reached up the center staircase.
She tamped down cold panic. "The smoke is coming up the stairs!"
Mitch was right behind her, taking the steps three at a time. "Let's get out of here."
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to his side. They started toward the stairs. Kelsey's heart pounded against her chest. She leaned into Mitch.
Halfway down the stairs, the smoke thickened. From the belly of the house, the fire roared like a great hungry beast. The floorboards creaked and groaned.
Kelsey coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. Mitch tightened his hold on her as they reached the bottom step and hurried toward the front door. He turned the handle and pulled.
The door was locked.
Kelsey rubbed her stinging eyes. "It shouldn't be locked. I never throw the dead bolt."
Wasting no time, Mitch took Kelsey into the front parlor to the right off the entry way to a set of tall floor-to-ceiling windows. He tried to open one. It didn't budge. The windows had long been painted shut.
The fire's heat and thickening smoke made breathing difficult. Kelsey shoved a trembling hand through her hair. The house was disintegrating under then-feet and would be gone in just minutes.
Mitch picked up an old Chippendale chair and threw it through the window, smashing the window-panes. He yanked the curtain down, draped it over his arm and broke out the bits of jagged glass. Tossing the curtain aside, he took her by the arm and together they stepped onto the front porch.
She was aware of distant sirens as they ran down the porch steps and across the lawn. Only when they reached the other side of the street did she suck in a lungful of fresh air. She dropped to her knees, coughing.
Mitch came down beside her. He pulled in several deep breaths. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said. Her lungs still ached.
