Dire Straits

by Melissa Pearl

  “What?”

  It was pretty much the reaction he’d anticipated he would get.

  It was the same response he probably would have had if he’d been in her shoes.

  Who just goes around asking if houses made a kid sick?

  He knew it sounded ludicrous, but he felt compelled to ask. He’d busied himself with work over the last few days, writing articles and putting in some research on a few longer features pieces he’d been working on, but he kept coming back to the story Dorothy had told him. The story about Kyle. And the larger story that was trying to take root in his mind.

  The story that he wasn’t convinced even existed.

  The story about sick people in one corner of Aspen Falls.

  “He had cancer, right?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Has cancer.”

  He acknowledged his faux pas with a nod. “Anything lead you to believe there might have been something in the house that contributed to it?”

  It was a ridiculously long shot. And even if there was something Alaina knew about, it certainly didn’t explain Dorothy’s health concerns. Or Patty and Glen’s. Or his mother’s.

  But he needed to ask, even if it just turned out to be something he could rule out.

  “Something in the house?” she repeated. “Like what?”

  He toed the gravel driveway with his shoe. “I don’t know. I don’t flip houses. You do.”

  “Well, the only things I might come across that are health hazards are asbestos and lead-based paint. Radon, too. But all of those things need to be disclosed in the listings.”

  “Did that house have any of those issues?”

  She shook her head. “No. Another one I remodeled recently had lead paint, but all you do with that is paint over it. No remediation necessary.”

  “Oh yeah? Where was that?”

  She rattled off an address, one that was within a few miles of his mom’s house. He grabbed his phone and started typing in his note app.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just taking a few notes.”

  Her tone was suspicious. “About what?”

  “What you’re telling me.”

  Alaina folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. “What are you really doing here?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “I’m working a story.”

  “You told me you wanted to ask about the theft,” she said, her voice cool. “And now you’re asking me about other properties. Hazardous materials. What gives?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. He didn’t know how to answer her because he was still stuck on the belief that there probably was nothing to look into. Nothing added up: not what she was telling him, not the information Dorothy had given him, and not the condition his own mother was in.

  Scratch that, he thought. It actually did add up.

  It added up to some monumental bad luck.

  “I’ll take you to the house if you want to see it,” Alaina said quietly.

  “What?”

  “The house where Kyle lived,” she said. “It’s on the market right now.”

  “You just said there was nothing about the house that—”

  “There isn’t,” she said. “But now you’ve got me curious.”

  “I do?”

  She nodded.

  “About what?”

  “About what the hell it is you’re investigating.”

  He held up a hand. “I’m not investigating anything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She dug her keys out of her pockets. “I’ll take you over. Now or never.”

  Jarrett hesitated for only a moment.

  He didn’t think he was going to find a single thing that suggested there was more to little Kyle’s story than just really shitty luck.

  But he wasn’t about to turn down Alaina’s offer.

  Ten minutes later, they were both parked in the driveway of a modest single-story home. The grass was a pretty green, and pink zinnias bloomed alongside variegated hostas in the flowerbed next to the house. Alaina went around to the back door and inserted her key into the lock. “Lockbox is on the front door,” she explained. “And I don’t have the code for that.”

  She turned the handle and stepped inside, then waited for Jarrett to join her.

  The house was just as pretty inside. Freshly painted walls, the color of butter, and new wood laminate floors. The appliances in the kitchen looked new, too, a black stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher that looked stunning against the pristine whitewashed cabinets.

  “You did all this yourself?” he asked.

  “No,” she said bluntly. “I hire people. Besides, this particular property didn’t need much work.”

  “No?” Jarrett asked as he walked from the kitchen into the dining area. There was a small table there, with two matching chairs. A stack of materials about the house sat on the table, alongside a small bowl filled with wrapped chocolates. He grabbed one and unwrapped the foil from it, then popped it in his mouth.

  “Holly and Jake weren’t selling because they were in financial distress,” she explained. “It wasn’t like they’d let the property go due to missed payments or had to make decisions against repairing stuff. They left because of their son.”

  “I heard you got a good price for it.”

  Alaina stiffened. “They priced it under market value.” Her tone was defensive.

  “I know,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t suggesting anything.”

  “I paid their full asking price.”

  Jarrett raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

  She nodded. “They had enough to deal with. The last thing they needed was having to haggle over selling their house.”

  Jarrett was impressed. Even as shrewd of a businesswoman as she was, Alaina had gone in and paid full price. She could have low-balled them. He was sure she was used to negotiating, to coming in well under the asking price and working toward a price both seller and buyer could agree with. It was something her livelihood depended on, ensuring she didn’t pay more than she needed to so that she could still turn a profit.

  But she hadn’t cared about that with this property.

  And Jarrett was pretty sure he knew why.

  Because she wasn’t one to take advantage, especially when the sellers were parents to a sick little boy whose life depended on moving as quickly as possible so he could start what would hopefully be life-saving treatment.

  Jarrett picked up a flyer from the stack on the table. There were several color photos, along with the specifications of the house. Three bedrooms, two baths. A full basement. One-acre lot. He scanned the rest of the information, his eyes landing on something that sparked a moment of interest.

  “Well water and septic?” he asked.

  Alaina nodded. “Most of the houses out this way are. City sewers haven’t made it out here yet.”

  “Does that make them harder to sell?”

  “Not really,” she told him. “I’m sure the city will come this way eventually, but homeowners will have to eat the cost when they do. Most people are happy enough to be on well and septic because the costs aren’t prohibitive, as long as your equipment is in good working order.”

  “And the septic and well are? In good working order?”

  She nodded again. “Had them both inspected prior to listing.”

  He made a mental note of that.

  It was a connection he hadn’t considered. Most of the houses on the outer edges of Aspen Falls weren’t connected to the city water lines or sewer, his mom included.

  It was something to check out.

  His phone buzzed then, and he pulled it from his pocket.

  His pulse quickened as he read the words on his screen.

  It wasn’t a text, but rather a notification from an online group he belonged to.

  Police Briefs, a group where people listened in on police scanners and shared the news that went out over the airwaves.

  A dead body h
ad just been pulled from the river.

  In Aspen Falls.

  “I gotta go,” he said quickly, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

  Alaina looked at him in surprise. “What? Now? Are you…are you done looking?”

  He nodded.

  He didn’t have time to talk.

  He was headed to cover a story.

  A story that most definitely existed.

  11

  Thursday, June 28

  7:55 am

  “Can I get you anything?” Jessica asked.

  The man she was talking to, an older man in his forties, shook his head. His face was a sickly shade of white, and he looked seconds away from passing out.

  “Sit down,” Jess ordered. She pushed him gently to the ground. “Put your head between your legs.”

  “Why?” he asked weakly.

  “Just do it, please.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to guide him into position. He complied and she breathed a quick sigh of relief. She had enough on her plate without having her only witness pass out.

  The call had come in about ten minutes ago. Dispatch had told her about a 911 call, a suspected dead body along the riverbank. And because dead bodies didn’t turn up often in Aspen Falls—and the hysterical man on the phone wasn’t entirely sure of what he’d seen before he’d run screaming back to his car—dispatch had asked Jess to go take a look.

  Unfortunately, the guy had been spot-on.

  Jess had arrived a few minutes after she’d gotten the call, finding a man pacing back and forth in front of his car, rubbing his hands vigorously over his bare arms. He rushed toward her as soon as she got there.

  “Thank God you’re here,” he’d said, tears springing to his eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Thomas. Thomas Blume.”

  Jess tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Heard you might have found something down by the river?”

  He nodded and licked his lips. “A body. I…I saw a body.”

  Jess looked toward the water’s edge. The trees were fully leafed, the branches dappled in early morning sunlight. Just beyond, the brilliant blue of the river beckoned. Birds were singing a steady chorus in the trees, an eclectic mix of trills and chirps.

  “Can you tell me where?” she asked.

  Thomas pointed with a shaky finger. “Just over there. In the trees.”

  Jess unholstered her gun just as a precaution. The grass was still coated with dew as she made her way toward the water’s edge, and she stepped carefully as she navigated the embankment that led down to the sandy shoreline. She glanced toward the trees, a cluster of white birch with peeling bark.

  And she froze.

  The man was right.

  The body came more fully into view with every step she took, and she did a quick assessment. Female, probably mid-twenties. She swallowed as she realized that generic description could fit her. She moved closer, her heart beginning to hammer.

  Long brown hair. Probably 5’6 or so. Thin build. The white sundress she wore was tattered and stained.

  And the woman was definitely deceased.

  Jess hurried back up the embankment.

  She glanced at the man. He was still sitting on the ground, but he was looking at her now, his eyes wide. And he was still pale, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to faint.

  “Stay right there,” she told him as she hurried back to her cruiser.

  “Am I…am I under arrest?”

  “Just stay put.”

  She leaned into the car, grabbed her radio, and called it in. Then she spun back around and hurried to his side.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  He swallowed thickly. “I…I was going to take my kayak out.” He nodded toward a Volvo station wagon parked in the lot. Sure enough, there was a canoe strapped to the top of it. “I was finishing up my breakfast, a granola bar, and I headed down to the water just to check things out, see how the river was moving today.”

  Jess waited.

  “I finished my granola bar and somehow lost hold of the wrapper. The wind carried it before it dropped to the ground. I…I didn’t want to litter so I went after it.” His face crumpled. “And I saw…her.”

  She nodded. “And then what?”

  “And then I called 911,” he said. “Immediately.”

  “What time did you get here?”

  “To the river? I think it was around seven-thirty.”

  “And you came from your house?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Barlow. It’s about ten miles west of here.”

  Jessica knew where it was.

  “Anyone able to vouch for your whereabouts?”

  “My wife,” he said. “She’s still home. She made me coffee before I left. It’s… the cup is still in the car. I didn’t want to drink too much on account of maybe needing to pee later.”

  Jess hadn’t really considered the man a suspect, but she just wanted to ask a few questions, make sure there was nothing fishy about his story.

  Another car tore into the parking lot and Jess looked up, expecting to see another cruiser from AFPD.

  Her heart skipped a beat when the car squealed to a stop next to her cruiser and Jarrett Pryor stepped out.

  She blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same thing as you,” he responded easily. “Responding to a call.”

  She stared at him. He was dressed in khaki shorts, a dark blue T-shirt, and he wore leather slides that were almost the same shade of brown as his tanned skin. He grinned, and she hated how boyishly handsome it made him look.

  “We haven’t secured the scene,” she told him. Her insides were quaking a little, but she was satisfied that her voice sounded reserved and professional.

  He gave her another easy smile. “No problem.” He glanced at Thomas. “This your guy?”

  Thomas paled again.

  “He was the one who reported it, yes.”

  Jarrett turned his winning smile to the man sitting on the ground. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Jessica’s police instincts kicked in. She stepped in front of Jarrett, blocking his view of Thomas. “Actually, I mind.”

  Another car pulled into the lot and a louder engine barreled toward them. Relief washed over Jess when she saw Nate step out of his unmarked car. An ambulance arrived seconds behind him.

  Nate slammed the door shut and strode toward Jessica. He gave Jarrett a quick nod.

  “What do we have?” he asked.

  Jessica glanced uncertainly at Jarrett.

  “You gonna give us some privacy?” Nate asked.

  Jarrett looked around. “This is a public lot, right? In a public park?”

  A muscle in Nate’s temple pulsed.

  Jarrett just smiled and waited.

  Nate bit off a sigh. “Not a word, Pryor,” he warned. “Nothing gets published until I okay it. You got it?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Nate fixed his gaze on Jessica. “What do we know?”

  “Not much,” she said. “He found her over there.” Jessica pointed to a cluster of trees growing just along the riverbank.

  Nate’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he swiveled his head in the direction she indicated. She quickly gave him a summary of what Thomas had told her.

  “Any ID on the body?” Nate asked.

  “She’s a Jane Doe at the moment,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb the scene to look for ID, and I didn’t know if he would be a flight risk. All I did was confirm there’s a body.”

  Nate nodded. “Alright.” By this time, Blaine and Ollie had arrived. He barked orders at them. “Secure the scene.”

  They both scrambled down the embankment, disappearing behind the canopy of green.

  Jess took a deep breath and watched them go. She didn’t want to admit it but she felt a little rattled. She’d b
een close to finishing up her shift, and she hadn’t expected that kind of call to come through dispatch. Not that she couldn’t handle a dead body—of course she could, she was a cop—but night after night of mind-numbingly boring shifts had not prepared her to think of that as even a remote possibility. Not in Aspen Falls, anyway.

  Kellan arrived a few moments later and Nate headed over to talk to his boss. Jess watched. It was a big deal when all of Aspen Falls’s law enforcement responded to a call.

  Jarrett was still standing next to her, his eyes on the riverbank. He watched as Blaine and Ollie finally made their way back up and, casting a quick glance at Jess, hurried in their direction.

  “Hey,” Jess protested, but she knew it was futile. Reining in Jarrett Pryor was like trying to ride a wild Mustang. It wasn’t gonna happen. Especially by her. She could barely think straight when he was around.

  Instead, she followed along after him.

  He began peppering the two officers with questions. “Any positive ID?”

  Ollie shook his head and smiled. “Dude, you know we can’t tell you that.”

  “Come on,” Jarrett said. He had his pad of paper and pen poised and ready. “Physical description? What was she wearing? What was the condition of the body?” The questions shot out of him like machine-gun fire.

  Blaine held up a hand. “Slow down, man.” He chuckled. “You get an A for effort but Ollie’s right. We can’t dish anything right now.”

  Jarrett nodded, and Jess was surprised at how accepting he was of this. She knew he was a tenacious reporter, always aggressively pursuing stories. Was he really giving up so easily?

  “Give me one little thing,” he said. “Just something small.”

  Blaine and Ollie exchanged wary glances.

  “Just one thing. Any identifying piece of clothing? Jewelry?”

  Blaine shook his head. “Not going there, Pryor.”

  Jarrett’s eyes flashed with something that looked like irritation. “Come on. Piercings? Tattoos?”

  They both shook their heads again. Jarrett watched as they moved toward where Nate and Kellan had gathered.

  Jessica almost felt sorry for him.

  He sighed and slapped the pad of paper with his open palm.

  “I saw a tattoo,” a voice said.