Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I leaned down to pat Dak, ruffling his glossy, long fur. “He has. He gained another seven pounds. He still thinks he’s a lap dog, though.”

  “Don’t they all?” He grinned and added the steaks to the pan. “I don’t know how you feel about nuked potatoes, but if we wait for them to bake we’ll probably starve to death. At least I will,” he winked. “I skipped lunch.”

  I realized I had, too. My stomach rumbled as if in agreement. I laughed and covered my mouth. “Oh, me, too. I’ll just pop ‘em in the microwave, and we can bake them for the last few minutes. Maybe it’ll crisp up the skins?”

  He’d already ripped open a package of Boston lettuce and begun to rinse it under the faucet. “If you want to, you can chop the pepper, tomatoes, and cucumbers.”

  “Sure.” I closed the microwave, set it to ten minutes, and selected a knife from the box. I slid a cutting board down from the hook on the wall and grabbed a yellow pepper.

  In silence, we stood side by side preparing the salad. When the bowl was full, the steaks were just about ready. I took out the potatoes, wishing I’d thrown them in the oven before he arrived. They weren’t very crispy.

  We filled our plates and sat in the now warm dining area. Dak settled on the floor at my feet, and I glanced at Sky across the table.

  Before he picked up his fork, he reached for my hand, catching my eyes with his. “Okay. So are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

  I slumped in my seat feeling lost, yet aching to spill my guts. “I guess.” Mechanically, I picked up my fork and started to carve a piece of steak, dipping it in the A1 sauce I’d miraculously found in the cabinet. Maybe if I concentrate on the dinner, I won’t fall apart.

  He leaned forward. “So? Where is he? Where’s Quinn?”

  It wasn’t going to work. My face crumpled and my voice hitched. “I…I left him.”

  Sky’s eyes widened, staring at me intently. “You what?”

  “We’re having some issues. I needed to be alone.”

  He put a huge chunk of butter on his potato, smearing it around with his fork. With deliberately slow motions, he asked, “Is this about the baby? Callie told me you had to give her up today.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. Instead, I took a drink of sweet well water.

  “I’m really sorry about Kimi. I know it must’ve hurt like hell,” he said.

  I nodded and chewed, not trusting my voice.

  “Are you officially separated?”

  I spoke in a tiny voice I barely recognized as my own. “I don’t know what we are. I just need time away. To think. To try to get over it.”

  “I’m sorry, Marcie. I thought you guys were pretty solid.”

  “We are. I mean, we were.”

  “Do you think you’ll patch things up?”

  I hung my head. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  We finished the meal in silence, the only sounds the tapping of silver on china and ice cubes clinking in the glasses. When we were done, I did the dishes and Sky started the wood stove. I always liked the feel of wood stove warmth better than the baseboard heat, and wood was a lot cheaper.

  We sat on the loveseat, a few feet apart. Dak climbed up between us, his head on my lap and his tail thumping against Sky’s legs.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, his green eyes searching mine.

  His kindness pushed me over the cliff. I’d held back the sobs all afternoon, but I needed to weep until my body produced no more tears.

  “I don’t think he loves me anymore, Sky.” I let it out, hiccupping and talking between crying jags. After about fifteen minutes of sharing my most intimate feelings, I wiped my tears and sighed. “Geez. I’m sorry for dumping all this on you.” I saw my reflection in the window and grimaced. “All I’ve done is cry today.”

  He gently pushed Dak aside and moved close to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders. I buried my head against him, my own chest still heaving.

  “Things’ll get better. I’m sure of it. I know Quinn loves you. He’s mad about you.”

  I shook my head. “Not as much as he loves his heritage.”

  Sky wiped my cheeks with his big, rough hands. “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding, hon.”

  I raised my eyes to his, feeling the pull of long ago. Oh, how I wanted to melt into him, to let him kiss me and comfort me. I wanted to be held and loved.

  A look of pain crossed his face, and although he tried to hide it, I sensed something unrelated to me was off kilter.

  “Sky?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean with you. Something’s not right.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t get much past you, can I?”

  “Is it your work? Was there a snag in the testing?”

  He stood suddenly, his hands pressed against his eyes. “No. Work’s fine.”

  “Then what is it? Your health? Callie? Copper?”

  Sky was very close to his sister and her cop lover. The two ladies were all the family he had left. If something was wrong with one of them…

  He started to pace. “No. I’m healthy as a horse. And the girls are fine.”

  I took his arms to stop him from pacing. “What is it?”

  He stopped and took a deep breath. “Marcie, I don’t want to add to your worries. Especially today.”

  “I can handle it. Please, tell me what’s wrong.” I led him back to the couch and sat near him, urging him on. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just worry all the more.”

  He raised both hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. But it isn’t pretty.”

  I sat back, my heart beating fast. “What the hell is it, Sky?”

  His eyes defocused, and he stared into space. “We’ve got problems here. Girls from Speculator and Hope have been disappearing. Young teenage girls. Murdered.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “That’s horrible. How many?”

  His expression darkened. “Seven in the past month.”

  “Oh my God.”

  He stood and stared out the window, his hands loose at his sides. “We have a serial killer loose in the area, Marcella. And he’s been systematically dumping bodies along the shore of the Sacandaga River.”

  Chapter 5

  “A serial killer,” I repeated. “I can’t believe it. In the boonies, way up here?”

  Sky shot me a grim half-smile. “Yeah. Way up here.”

  “Is Copper involved in the investigation?”

  “She is.” He slid a vial of Stress Away from his pocket. He opened it and applied it along the back of his neck and his wrists. The room filled with the sweet scent of lime and vanilla. He handed me the bottle. “Want some?”

  I grabbed it like a lifeline. “Oh, God. Yes. Please.”

  I rolled the oil along my wrists and then held it to my face, inhaling greedily. “I should have done this earlier. I forgot about this one.”

  “Your Detective McCann is involved, too. As well as the FBI. It’s been a circus.”

  “McCann?” He’d helped out when we first learned about the bizarre history of my family and my stepfather’s involvement in what ended up being the biggest unsolved bank heist in history, and when my mother had been kidnapped because of it. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yeah, he’s slimmed down a lot. You’d hardly recognize him.” He stretched out his long legs. “And we’ve got reporters everywhere. Kind of reminds me of last year when we fought with MedicuRX.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, God. I’m still trying to forget that.”

  He still looked upset, and I sensed there was more to the story. “Hey, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He flashed a half smile. “Same old Marcella with your finely honed sense of intuition.”

  I nudged closer to him. “There is more, isn’t there?”

  “Okay. One of the missing girls is the daughter of a Project Hope employee, Brya
n McGonnigle. Katy’s body was found yesterday. His only child. She was fourteen years old.”

  “Oh, Sky.” I took his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s been tough on everyone. We’re a close-knit group, like family.”

  He stood and walked to the front door, locking both the outer porch door and the inner door that separated the sun porch from the living room. “Keep these closed and locked. Keep your shades down. Don’t go outside unless you have to.”

  I blinked. “You don’t seriously think the killer might be around here, do you?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t want him tempted by you. You’re a beautiful woman. You may not match the profile of the teen victims, but there’s no guarantee that he wouldn’t stray from his agenda if he saw you.”

  In spite of the horror of what he was telling me, in spite of the aching pain in my phantom womb, the man had called me beautiful, and it melted my heart. I’d needed that salve to my bruised soul.

  As if on second thought, he turned to me with a frown. “Wait a minute. Maybe I should stay here. Or you could stay with Callie and Copper. I don’t like the idea of you being alone out here.”

  As much as the idea of his presence in my cabin appealed to me, I held back. “Thanks, Sky, but I’ll be fine. And I’ve got Dak if anyone tries to hurt me. He’s ferocious.”

  The dog lay on his back, wiggling back and forth, pawing the air with his big feet.

  “Yeah, he really looks scary. More like a teddy bear.”

  I dropped to my knees to rub his furry belly. “He’s a good watch dog at home. He’s learning when to bark and when to lick someone to death. He’s got good instincts, I think.”

  We wandered down the hall to the mudroom, and Dak followed, acting excited, as if he thought we were going for a ride in the van.

  “I sure hope so,” Sky said. He grabbed his coat from the hook. “But I’ll check in on you in the morning, anyway. Want to meet for breakfast? I can ask the girls to join us.”

  “How about Mountain Memories?” I said.

  “Sure. Best breakfast in town. Seven?”

  “Okay. I’ll call my aunt and tell her we’re coming. She doesn’t know I’m here yet.”

  Roberta Mendoza owned and operated Mountain Memories Café and Gift Shop, one of our favorite places to hang out since we’d bought the Tall Pines cabin. My stepfather’s sister was like a mother to me, and sometimes more of a mother than Thelma. I couldn’t wait to see her.

  With a hug and brief peck on the cheek, Sky drove away in his Jeep. I shivered, locked the door, and went inside to lie down with my dog.

  Before I reached the bedroom, the landline rang again. I checked the clock on the wall. Almost seven. I decided to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  Quinn sounded ticked off. “Marcella, where have you been? You said you’d call when you got there.”

  I sat in the rocker by the end table. I started to rock, and the squeaking runners were loud and rhythmic. “Sorry. I had some problems with the water and heat.” I wanted to punish you, make you worry. You deserved it.

  “I told you they weren’t turned on. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve told you what to do.”

  “I didn’t feel like talking to you.”

  “Oh.” After an awkward silence, he asked, “So, did you figure it out?”

  “No. I had to get help.”

  “From whom?”

  I hesitated. “Um, I called Callie and Copper, but they were out.”

  “So, who’d you get to help you?”

  I felt a pinprick of guilt. “Sky.”

  Silence.

  “Just to fix the water and stuff.”

  His voice tightened. “I see. And did he ‘fix’ everything?”

  The words rushed out of me. “He’s just a friend, you know that. And yes, he did. He came over, got everything up and running, and made me dinner.” Take that, you selfish bastard.

  “Just a friend? My God, Marcella. The last time he came here, he still followed you around like a puppy dog. He never took his eyes off you. He’s still in love with you.” He choked the last few words. “You know that.”

  I did know. And it still broke my heart. “That’s ridiculous. He’s over me.”

  “Really.”

  I could feel him fuming. And it only made me madder. “Besides. Why would you care? You don’t care about me anymore. All you care about is your precious Seneca Nation.” I slammed the receiver onto the cradle and walked away.

  Okay, so I felt a bit childish, and my attack on him had been partially fueled by guilt, but he’d hurt me deeply and that wasn’t going to change overnight. I hadn’t behaved like this since I was a teenager. It felt awful.

  I turned down the wood stove like Sky showed me, called Dak into the bedroom, and patted a spot beside me. I sprinkled some Peace and Calming oil blend on my pillow, inhaling the scent of tangerine and ylang ylang. It was wonderful. I’d sleep tonight with the help of the oil.

  With M. Kim Smith’s Buried Angel mystery glowing from my Kindle, I snuggled against Dak and let myself be taken away to another world.

  Chapter 6

  In spite of my attempts to soothe myself with oils, I tossed and turned all night, reliving the fights I’d had with Quinn and waking up crying over Kimi. It would be a long time before the tears stopped and the aching loss receded. At five o’clock in the morning, I lay on my back, patting Dak’s soft head, which happened to be on my stomach. It was still dark outside. Quiet and dark. I shifted closer to Dak, glad for his company.

  I stretched up to crack the window just a bit. Just enough to hear the murmur of the Sacandaga River. The sound always soothed me, and although a bit of cold air crept in, I didn’t care. I needed the solace of the river. I burrowed deeper under the comforter and pulled another quilt over my dog.

  “There you go, sweetie. Nice and warm.”

  He snuggled closer to me, pushing me with his cold nose.

  The sadness returned in a maddening wave. Grief poured over me. I pictured my baby daughter, whom I’d never be able to think of as someone else’s child, and tears spilled down my cheeks again.

  Dak whined a little and nudged me. He always knew when I was sad.

  When my father died—mind you, I’m talking about Raoul Rodriguez, my stepfather who was really the only dad I ever remembered—I thought the hurt would never go away.

  I was right. It had been two years now and it felt as fresh as yesterday. I didn’t cry over his loss as much as in the beginning, of course. But I still welled up every time something reminded me of him. I’d see his big old sweater in the closet, or find one of his walking sticks in the shed, or pass his collection of murder mysteries in the bookcase…and it was all over.

  Would it be that way with Kimi? When I found a stray pacifier under the bed, or folded crib sheets from the dryer, or saw a goose on the lake, would I crumple into a weeping mess and become as useless as I now felt? Empty? Purposeless? Wandering around in my dark mind and bitter soul?

  Of course, she hadn’t died like my father had, thank God. I’d be able to see her every month. And as ridiculously infrequent as that sounded in the beginning, now I couldn’t wait for the next four weeks to pass.

  Why was I such a mess? Why couldn’t I be stronger, more positive? I hated the way I felt and was embarrassed by my actions. On the one hand, I knew I had every right to be upset. But on the other, I wasn’t proud of the way I’d handled things. Especially with Quinn.

  With a shake of my head, I sat up. I had to keep busy.

  “Dak. Come on, boy. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”

  He looked at me with bleary eyes, slowly wagging his tail, as if to say, “Mom? It’s the middle of the night.”

  I’d lain in bed long enough. Tonight I’d get more sleep. This morning, I’d shower, drive to Mountain Memories, and take pleasure in the company of my friends.

  “Come on, boy.”

  He lumbered off the bed and follow
ed me to the back door, where I let him out for a few minutes. I turned on the porch light and noticed it was snowing. The flakes were big and lazy, and coated the surfaces of the branches and picnic table with soft layers of pristine white.

  Dak ventured a few feet into the woods, took care of business, then trotted immediately back to me. I waited in the doorway, shivering in my bare feet. I’d have to get the stove going before I left so I could warm up the place. I didn’t want the pipes to freeze. Quinn would never forgive me for that. And the electricity was so expensive, I didn’t want to turn on the baseboard heaters.

  Back inside, I followed Sky’s directions from the night before and actually made a fire. I felt ridiculously proud of myself, and couldn’t stop smiling when the kindling caught and the smoke went up the pipe in the right direction. It wasn’t long before the whole place warmed, and the temperature gauge pegged. I turned the damper down like Sky had shown me, and the needle nudged downward to the middle of the range.

  Perfect.

  After brewing a pot of coffee with stale grounds, I sat with Dak in the living room and turned on the news. We only got three local channels because the tree coverage was too dense for satellite reception, and no cable company with an ounce of sense would run wires all the way out to our lonely cabin.

  The six o’clock news came on, and after a brief rundown on an embassy bombing in Italy and a massive pileup on the thruway that had killed five people, the young male reporter turned to local news.

  “Seven murders in four weeks. It’s been the stuff of nightmares in the small community of Speculator, New York. A serial killer is at large in the Adirondack woods, and today we have breaking news from the area.”

  Photos of seven girls passed across the screen. Young women. Pretty women. All dark haired. All innocent and sweet.

  My heart cracked yet again. My God, those poor girls. Their poor parents.

  The reporter began. “We have Katie Connor on location in Speculator, New York, where the local authorities and FBI have set up their headquarters. Katie, what can you tell us this morning about these heinous events?”

  Katie stood before Charlie Johns country store, where a mass of flashing lights and police vehicles queued.