Without a Trace

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “Go right ahead.”

  Unlike some of the guys, Sergeant DelGrande was more supportive of me.

  Moments later, I roared out of the parking lot, cussing myself for letting Roland get to me…and for not writing my personal cell number on the back of the business card I gave to Nova. The card had my office extension on it and the on-call number. But if she’d tried my office yesterday, then it would have just rung and rung, eventually going straight to voicemail.

  Wildly, I drove around the twisty inclines of the Appalachians, afraid of what I might find. What if Nova found her daughter on the property and I wasn’t there to help? Images of bloody, bloated toddlers sliced through my head like razors. What if her husband showed up and tried to hurt her? I clenched my teeth together so hard I could almost hear the enamel cracking.

  Someone should have been there to take her call, dammit!

  Despite the beauty of the rugged, flat-topped highlands and majestic mountain ridges that seemed to reach the sun, the town itself looked like an ashtray. Like there was some sort of smoking giant, flicking its filth all over the city, and onto the people who lived here.

  The houses were taped together, some barely standing. Boarded up windows and sagging roofs. Windows plastered shut with cardboard or old blankets. And the rivers and creeks were so full of garbage you couldn’t swim or fish. It seemed so wrong to see so much poverty amongst such a beautiful backdrop, but this town was poor. Most of its income came from tourism in the summer and springtime, thanks to hikers and ATV enthusiasts.

  I couldn’t breathe when I pulled up in front of the house. Please let Nova be okay…I can’t afford to make another mistake that keeps me ostracized even more by my peers…

  The cabin was quiet and dark, and there was something off about the place as soon as I put my cruiser in park.

  I approached the cabin, taking in more details than I had on my first visit.

  The grass was a soupy wasteland after last night’s rain and mosquitoes buzzed around my pant legs as I made my way up to the door.

  I could still see Nova, the way she’d looked two days ago, desperation in her eyes as she ran out to meet me in her robe. She’d been so scared…but I didn’t know what to do for her then. And I still didn’t, I realized.

  I knocked softly at first. But then, when no one came to answer, I gave the door a hard, authoritative rap. Her Celica was parked in the same spot it had been the night before.

  There were two windows on either side of the front door. I tried to peek through both, eager to spot some sort of movement through the off-white curtains. Nothing. A sick feeling rose in my stomach.

  Slowly, I moved around the right side of the house, looking in side windows and peeking in the car as I passed it.

  Maybe Nova was still asleep? After all, it was Sunday. Most people, besides church-goers like my mom and her parish, liked to sleep in on the weekends. I silently prayed that that was the case with Nova.

  As I reached the backside of the cabin, I immediately noticed that the back door was ajar. A tiny sliver of light peeped out through the crack.

  I knocked harder, jarring the door, and I willed myself to be patient. I’d never barged into anyone’s house before, and I didn’t want to start now. Without a warrant, I had no business letting myself inside.

  But if something horrible had happened to her…if that dangerous husband of hers had showed up…then it was on me for not taking her more seriously.

  “Nova?” I shout-whispered through the crack.

  I put my hand on the knob and nudged the door open a few more centimeters. “It’s Officer Ellie James. I need to follow up with you.”

  There were no sounds of movement inside and I couldn’t see anything through the crack besides the tiny bit of light coming from the kitchen.

  “I’m coming in, ma’am,” I warned. The proper protocol would be to call for some sort of back-up, or at the very least, take out my firearm. But the last thing I wanted was to call the very colleagues who didn’t trust me, and probably wouldn’t have my back anyway.

  “Damn you, Nova,” I mumbled, stepping back from the door. Clumsily, I unholstered my pistol and flipped the safety off. I gripped it in my right hand, praying I wouldn’t need to use it ever again…

  “Nova, I’m coming in now.” I kicked the door and was instantly met with some sort of resistance.

  “What the hell?” I nudged it again with my foot, grunting against whatever weight was pushed up behind it. There was something heavy laying on the other side of the door.

  I couldn’t get in the house without squeezing through the crack, and I wasn’t sure what—or who—was behind the door. I took a deep breath and pushed my face up against the crack, trying to see what was jamming up the entranceway.

  Instantly, I recognized the black duffel bag. It was the same one I’d seen laying in the middle of the kitchen floor the first time I’d met with Nova. But why was it so heavy? It was almost like it was filled with stones.

  Using both hands, including the one with the gun, I gave the door another hard shove. The bag scooted forward a few inches, just enough for me to slip inside the cabin.

  I called out for her three more times, then entered the kitchen. Glancing down at the bag, I saw that it was open and filled with hard, fist-sized rocks. Tentatively, I bent down to get a closer look. The rocks were smooth and all the same size.

  Next to the rocks were three cylindrical containers with metal latches on top. They were empty but had some scummy red marks around the lids. What the hell?

  I gripped the gun in both hands now, my voice shaky as I called out again, “It’s Officer Ellie James, and I’m coming in.” How many times am I going to say that? I wondered, clenching and unclenching my jaw. As I scooted, little by little, across the kitchen floor, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something was seriously wrong here, I could feel it in my bones…

  It only took a few more seconds to find out what it was. I gasped as I entered the living room, instantly lowering my gun. A puddle of blood, wide as a coy pond, and so red it was almost purple, spread out from the center of the floor. My body swayed and shook as I stared at tiny white fragments at my feet. Kneeling for a closer look, I discovered the fragments were bone. Not just bone—they looked like human teeth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  In a perfect world, the FBI would have showed up at my rental property. But the blood had gone dry by the time two experts showed up to process the scene, and let’s face it: the FBI doesn’t give a damn about people in Northfolk.

  I waited outside next to Officer James’ police car, smoking a Camel. I’d gone all night without a cigarette, but this incident gave me the perfect excuse to fire one up. Smoke filled my lungs, sending little shocks of warmth to my head and my toes.

  Officer Ellie James had asked me to stay. After all, I owned the cabin that was now the scene of a crime.

  Leaning against the hood of my tenant’s car, I puffed while watching the chaos around me unfold.

  Two policemen I recognized, Roland Anderson and Michael Boyd, were standing less than two feet away, looking at something on one of their cell phones. Hard workers, those two, I thought, rolling my eyes.

  The Sergeant was there too. I knew Sam DelGrande well. He and Andy used to go fishing together sometimes. The sergeant and Officer James stood near the back of the cabin, chatting with one of the forensic guys, who was wearing a white, space-like suit.

  The astronaut lookalike turned around and went back inside the cabin, and then Officer James and Sam came walking toward me. Damn. I don’t want to deal with police, I thought, reluctantly stubbing out my cig on the ground beside me. Now that the cancer stick was gone, the lump was back. I swallowed it down and cleared my throat.

  I didn’t see the blood pool inside, but Officer James told me there was reason to believe that my new tenant or her child had been victims of foul play. How much blood is there? I’d a
sked her, horrified when she came to my door. A lot, that was all she said, over and over. Maybe it was just me, but Officer James looked stricken with fear, her face pale as the moon on a cold winter’s night.

  I’d been relatively calm. I’d even offered to make coffee for everyone. But Officer James had been insistent that I stay put. I couldn’t help feeling like a suspect at this point, just standing around.

  “Hi, Ms. Appleton. This is Sergeant DelGrande. I’d like you to repeat what you told me, please,” Officer James said. Her face was tight and strained, her right cheek bulging in and out as she mashed her teeth together. Nervous like her mother, Barb, I realized.

  Sam was old enough to be my father, but I considered him a friend. He was one of the few people in this town who remembered the farm when it was up and running.

  Sam smiled and said, “Clara and I know each other, Ellie. How’s Andy doing? I sure do miss the guy.” Wrinkles branched out from the corners of his mouth and his once jet-black hair was stippled with silver now. He was a quiet man, but he had this seriousness about him that always commanded attention.

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask his mistress, you know? Last I heard they were renting out a house on the beach. That damn fool can’t even swim,” I told him.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Clara.” Sam’s eyes softened.

  Officer James’ eyes flicked back and forth between us, then she nodded for me to tell him what I’d already told her twice.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to recall the exact details again.

  “I was up late watching the telly. Don’t sleep well, never have. I saw a light come on from across the field right around three in the morning. Now I’m not usually a nosy person, you know? But I haven’t had a tenant over here in years, so at first, that light startled me a bit.” My cheeks flushed crimson. For some reason, it was more nerve-racking re-telling this to Sergeant Sam.

  “What did you see?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed, his face grim.

  “Nothing, honest. There was a light on in the room that she was probably using as a bedroom. I heard about the ex-husband taking the girl, so I wondered what she was up to. I went to the window and looked out. And that’s when—”

  Sam’s face leaned in closer to mine, expectantly. I could smell his aftershave and the faint hint of last night’s Scotch on his breath. Andy was a Scotch man, too. I wondered if all those years ago, they weren’t out fishing but instead were tying a few off at the bar…

  “That’s it. That’s all I saw.” My fingers itched, aware of the pack of smokes in my front jeans pocket. Could they tell I was holding back? Truth was, I just wanted them off my property.

  “When did the light go off in her bedroom?” Sam asked, his face crumpled with disappointment that that was all I saw.

  “Not sure. Stood there at the window, watching for a few minutes, and then I went to bed. It wasn’t until around five or so, that I heard the truck pull in.”

  “What truck? Did you see what color it was?”

  “Nah, it was still dark, and I was half asleep. I sleep on the couch now, ever since Andy moved out, and it was the headlights casting shadows on the wall that stirred me. I got up, thinking about the child again, and I squinted through the same window. The truck parked behind the Celica. Might have been the same one I saw when they were moving in…and I heard the truck door open and close. I tried to get a look—I assumed it was the husband, you know? But I couldn’t see a darn thing.”

  “Did she let him inside? Did you hear them fighting?” These questions came from Officer James now. She’d already asked them earlier.

  “She must have cause the truck stayed put. Stood at the window for at least a half hour, waiting to see if I’d hear them fighting. Wondered if I might have to call the cops. I hate to say this, but I was a little worried about property damage, you know? On second thought, I probably should have gone and called the police anyway…I could have stopped him, or whoever it was, from hurting them.” I held my hand up to my mouth in horror, then turned my face away so they couldn’t see my tears.

  “This is not your fault, Clara. Not your fault at all.” Sam rested his hand on my shoulder.

  “Did you see what time the truck left? Did you hear anything else, anything at all?” Officer James kept pushing.

  I shook my head, wrestling with the tears. “I never heard a thing after that. Never saw anything either. My eyes got heavy…so I just laid back down on the couch, and next time I woke up was when Officer James was banging at my front door.”

  “Thank you. You can go on home now. We’ll finish up here and then let you know when the cabin is safe to enter again. Promise me you won’t go near it until it’s been cleared?” Sam squeezed my shoulder and again, I thought about my husband, Andy.

  “Oh, of course not. Wouldn’t want to interfere. I just wish…will you let me know if there’s anything else I can do?”

  “Will do. But in the meantime, we have more officers and help on the way. We’re going to comb this entire property and the woods,” Officer James said, giving me a soft, worried smile. I could tell she was shaken from the incident, too. When she turned up at my door this morning, her eyes had looked wild and strange.

  I thanked the officers again, then cast one last look at the cabin that had been in my family for years. It used to be a place for housing staff, migrant workers who helped on the farm and such, when it was large and thriving. When my mom was sick but didn’t want to live with us, she stayed here until it was time for her to move into a nursing home. The cabin had always held good memories for me, even though it was a little dreary and run down. Now that had all changed.

  Now it would be known as the place where a murder occurred.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Cop

  ELLIE

  Rainy weather arrived in earnest as the entire Northfolk police department and a handful of the sergeant’s close family and friends searched the Appleton rental property and farm. We spread out like a fan, searching the woods and adjacent barn and outbuildings on Clara’s side of the land.

  Sergeant DelGrande took charge, instructing officers and especially volunteers not to touch anything.

  “So, what do you think, huh? You think it’s the kid’s blood or hers in there?” Roland asked, nudging an old stump onto its side with his combat boot. I watched a treasure trove of pill bugs wriggle out from the underbelly. We used to call them roly-polies when I was a kid, I remembered.

  “Fuck off, Roland. This is your fault.” I kicked the log back over.

  I walked off from him, focusing on the forest floor as I went. My eyes attempted to scan every square inch of it…but I was making myself dizzy and seeing red because I was so angry. I was angry with Roland for not taking Nova Nesbitt’s call. But I was angrier with myself—I’d been so scared about having another “incident” involving a domestic squabble that I’d treated Nova unfairly. She said her husband was dangerous—how many times had she made that clear? Could I have stopped this…? That question kept haunting me…

  Pressing my back against the closest tree, I took a deep breath and tried to re-focus. A slow steady drizzle of rain trickled down through the trees. Surprisingly, it felt good as it touched my skin. I felt hot. Rageful. And one of my back molars felt chipped, from all the jaw flexing I’d been doing these past two days.

  How could Roland be this stupid? Why hadn’t he answered the call? And why hadn’t I done more—if I trusted my colleagues more, maybe I would have asked a couple of the guys to provide security for Nova… I wondered, ruefully.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Roland was back. He stooped down in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He was close, too close, and I could smell his sweat and bitter cologne.

  “Sorry, yeah? Well, you’ll be sorry when Sarge finds out you didn’t take the call. She was in trouble. She needed us, and now she’s probably dead.” I blinked back tears, trying to shake off the urge to cry. Roland was the last person I wanted to be vulnerable
in front of…

  Someone cleared their throat behind us. It was one of the forensics guys, Chad, I think he said his name was.

  “Whoever that blood belongs to…they’re probably dead. No one could sustain that much blood loss.” His voice was soft but squeaky, and he looked apologetic as he shared this news.

  My eyes darted around the woods, at the floating bodies combing through the trees and field. “She has to be here then. She couldn’t have got far, not after losing that much blood…”

  “Unless someone took her body with them,” Roland said. He was chewing on a hang nail and staring off into space, like he didn’t care as much as he should have.

  “There’s no evidence that someone dragged a body through that house, though,” I said. “It’s almost like she bled out in that one spot, then just evaporated.”

  “Want to come in with me? Take a look? I have a couple things I want to show you inside.” Chad said.

  For a second, Roland looked offended that he was directing the question to me and not him. “Keep searching,” I told him, before following Chad back inside the dreaded cabin.

  The last thing I wanted to do was look at, or smell, that blood again…but I owed this much to Nova. I should have listened to her…I should have trusted her the first time. I should have called in a sketch artist and tried to talk the sergeant into issuing an Amber Alert without the photo…should have given Nova some sort of police protection out here…should have done something more…Shouldawouldacoulda.

  My face sagged as I stared at the rusty stain on the floor again. Whose blood was it? What sort of struggle had happened here…?

  Another forensic tech was squatting down on his haunches, his back turned to me. “This.” He held up a paper envelope in his gloved hand.

  “What is it?”

  “We collected three teeth. Two canines. One molar. Right now, we don’t know who they came from, but I can say this: these teeth didn’t fall out on their own. Whoever they belong to, they took a few blows to the face, at least.”