She and Gabe paired up to walk together. Sam and Sadie did the same. Ambrose and Nate were far to the left and seemed to move faster than the others, and they were soon far ahead.
The moment distance allowed it, Carrie said, “Thanks, by the way, for inviting my date from hell along.”
Gabe smiled at her. “Hey, he’s not such a bad guy.”
“And how do you know that?”
He shrugged. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
She lifted her brows in question but kept her eyes on the ground, bending to move aside clumps of brush and look underneath.
“He’s on vacation,” Gabe went on. “But he’s donating time to search for a missing kid he doesn’t even know. That, in my estimation, earns him the benefit of the doubt.”
She sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”
“And just because he’s a lousy date, that doesn’t mean he’s a lousy person,” he added.
She nodded. “True. But being rude to the waitress begs to differ.”
He lifted his brows. “I really don’t like people who are rude to waitstaff.” Then he shrugged. “Then again, anyone can have a bad day.”
“Do you actually like the guy?”
“I just don’t dislike him. He seemed like a pretty okay character when he was on our search team. Friendly. Talked to Sam and Sadie like grown-ups, and I like that. I get irritated with people who talk down to kids.” He glanced her way as they traipsed along through the thick growth of ferns and reeds.
The forest smelled like life, lush and green and moist, with a subtle hint of approaching autumn, decay and black soil.
“He’s made friends with the guy I peg as the most crotchety man in town, too. Even seems to be trying to help him out—and I think it’s at no charge. You can’t fault that, can you?”
“No, you can’t. And I got that feeling, too. You’re right about Nate, by the way. He is the town grump.”
Gabe nodded. “Besides,” he said, “I figure since you had such a lousy time on that date with him, I should keep him close. Makes me look better by comparison.”
She made a face at him, and he made one back, one so funny she found herself laughing out loud. And then she caught herself and stopped. The sounds of the forest filled the silence. She said, “How could I laugh, here of all places? Out here searching the woods for—”
A whistle pierced the air, and Carrie went dead silent, her eyes meeting Gabe’s. His were just as wide, just as stunned. And then there was a voice, shouting, “Here! Here! Hurry!”
“Is that Ambrose?” she asked, looking in the direction from which the voice had come.
“Come on!” Gabe gripped her arm, and together they raced ahead through the forest, nimbly jumping roots and dodging low-hanging branches that would have whipped them bloody.
On the way, Nate Kelly’s gruff voice came to them, as well. “This way!” he shouted. “Hurry!”
And finally, after what seemed like forever, they spotted Ambrose standing with one hand on a tree, his head bent low. A few feet from him, Nate Kelly sat on a giant boulder, head in his hands.
They rushed to the pair, both Carrie and Gabe speaking at once, asking half questions. “What…? Where…?”
But Ambrose, shuddering, only lifted his other hand to point, then brought it back to cover his forehead and eyes.
Carrie looked and saw Kyle Becker sitting on the ground, his back against a tree trunk, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head tipped to one side. His eyes were closed, and his skin was unnaturally pale. But aside from that, he looked as if he’d just sat down to take a nap.
“Oh, God.” She started forward.
Gabe’s hand fell to her shoulder as he stepped up beside her. “I’ll go.”
She met his eyes, shook her head. “No, you stay back. You’ll contaminate the scene.”
“But—”
“You’re a stranger in town, Gabe. You don’t want your hairs or handprints or DNA on that boy. Believe me.”
“But he’s—”
“Dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead, Gabe.”
Thrashing and crashing came from behind then, and Carrie looked back and saw Sam and Sadie burst through the trees. Sam’s eyes shot to hers, then to Kyle on the ground not far ahead.
“Kyle!” He lunged forward.
Gabe cut him off, catching his shoulders, holding on to him, speaking low and soft, as Carrie hurried ahead. She crouched beside Kyle and had to force her self to press a hand to his neck in search of a pulse. But she’d known from her first glimpse of him that she wouldn’t find one. It was partly his color, but mostly something else. Something unidentifiable. There was a palpable difference between a living person and a dead one, a difference that wasn’t only physical. She’d seen it, felt it, enough times to recognize it instantly. Death gave off a very different energy than life did. There was no life in the body where Kyle Becker used to live. None whatsoever.
Still, she checked for a pulse, then started to cry before she got any further. His skin was already cold. She’d hoped, just this once, to be wrong. Tears blurred her eyes, and she withdrew her hand, rose and swallowed hard. Then she turned to face Sam, and when she met his eyes, she shook her head sadly.
“No. No, Mom, no!”
Carrie walked slowly to her son and tried to fold him into her arms, but he pulled free of her. “No, do CPR on him or something. God, you have to do something!”
“I’m sorry, baby. He’s been gone for several hours now. There’s nothing I can do for him. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“No! Dammit, no!”
Sam turned and ran headlong back through the woods. Carrie lurched as if to go after him, but Gabe caught her arm. “I’ll go. You’re needed here.” He nodded at Ambrose, who was doubled over, gagging into a stand of bushy little princess pine and sweet fern. And then at Nate, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the boulder and seemed to have turned to stone himself.
“Sadie?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll stay with Carrie,” she said. She was standing still with her arms folded over her chest, her eyes glued to the dead boy’s passive, peaceful face. “Sam won’t want me seeing him like this. Just tell him I’m here for him.”
Gabe nodded and met Carrie’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are. So am I.”
Nodding, he turned and jogged off in the direction Sam had gone. Sadie gave her a slight nod and then went over to Nate, kneeling in front of him and speaking softly. Comforting him, when it was one of her peer group, one of her friends, a kid she’d grown up with from the time she was born, only a week after him, in the same hospital.
Ambrose was still bent double, holding on to a tree for dear life, so Carrie went to him, putting a hand on his back. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…I don’t know. God, I never—I just—I didn’t prepare myself for this.”
“I don’t think anyone can prepare for something like this.”
He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the other still pressed to the papery bark of a poplar tree. Carrie tugged her backpack off and unzipped it. As a doctor, she always brought extra supplies: a first aid kit, cold packs, gauze, an EpiPen and plenty of inhalers, among other things. She handed Ambrose enough gauze pads to wipe his mouth, then smacked a cold pack between her palms, rubbed it vigorously and laid it across the back of his neck. “That’ll help.”
“Thank you.” He lifted his eyes toward the body. “What happened to him?”
Carrie looked back at the boy, really looked at him for the first time. Frowning, she tugged the missing poster from her backpack and skimmed the detailed information at the bottom of the page. Last seen wearing jeans, a T-shirt with a cartoon cat on it and a plaid flannel button-down shirt.
Those were the same clothes he was wearing now. “Something’s wrong here,” she said softly.
“What?” Ambrose looked at her, then at the body, then at her again. “What is it?”
/> She shook her head. “Ambrose, keep blowing your whistle. Sadie, Nate, when people get here, I’m going to need your help keeping them away from the body. A good ten, fifteen feet on all sides. Only until the cops get here to handle that job. Okay? Can you handle that?”
Sadie lifted her chin and nodded. Nate brought his head up for the first time, set his jaw and nodded as well, rising to his feet. Ambrose watched them and then imitated their determination, though he looked less certain. Both men, she thought, were grateful to have something to do. Sadie would have stepped in regardless, without being asked. Not to help her cope, not because it felt better, but just because it was what needed to be done.
Carrie knew that her son was devastated. But no more so than Sadie was. And she wished Sam had a little less drama club and a little more steadfast, solid strength in him. Gabe had been right. Sadie’s tough life had made her the strong, capable young woman she had become. And thank God she was here for Sam right now, Carrie thought.
She shook those thoughts away and returned her attention to the body, trying now to stop thinking of it as Kyle. Kyle was gone. She moved closer but stopped a good three yards out, standing in one spot and looking, closely at the ground around it. And then at the body again.
Someone came through the brush. She heard them long before they arrived, and so she was looking his way when Bryan Kendall, in uniform, broke through the undergrowth. He saw her, then Kyle, and the sight brought him up short. He shot a look at Carrie.
“He’s been dead for several hours.”
Bryan sighed deeply, his head falling forward. But he picked it right back up again. “Who found him?”
Carrie nodded at Ambrose and Nate.
“We did,” Nate said, facing Bryan and holding on to a sapling for balance, as if his knees were weak. “Me and Mr. Peck here.”
Ambrose nodded, stepping forward. “I’m Ambrose Peck.”
“You’re a tourist, Mr. Peck?” Bryan asked.
“Yes. I helped out last night and wanted to do so again today—but I never expected—”
“Your help is deeply appreciated, sir. I’m going to need to talk to you later. Just standard stuff. Will you stick around?”
“Of course I will. I’ll do anything you need me to do. Absolutely anything.”
“Okay.” Bryan Kendall pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, moving slightly away from the others and speaking softly into it. Then he reclipped it in place, came back and turned to Carrie. “I’ll need you here, of course, but everyone else—”
Too late. Volunteers who’d been close by were already appearing like ghosts from amid the dense growth of trees and underbrush. Silent, wide-eyed, every one of them staring at the dead boy. Every cheek was wet with tears.
“Damn. We’ve got to notify his parents before they hear it from someone else,” Bryan said softly. “Not a job I’m looking forward to, I can tell you that. I so didn’t want it to end like this.”
“I know. I know,” Carrie whispered. “But no one’s going anywhere until you make them. So focus on the body for just a second, will you? Look at his clothes.”
Bryan looked, and his eyes narrowed. “They match the description of what he was wearing the day he disappeared.”
“Right. But do those clothes look to you like they’ve been worn for six straight days? Much less six days lost in the forest? Those clothes are clean, Bryan. Why are they clean?”
He nodded. “Looks as if he just left the house, doesn’t he?” He frowned, moving a little closer, kneeling, looking. She came up behind him. “His hands aren’t even dirty.”
“Where the hell has he been all this time?” Carrie asked softly.
“And what the hell killed him?”
She shook her head slowly and wondered if she was going to be the one who had to make that determination. For the life of her, she didn’t know if she had it in her to perform an autopsy on a boy she’d known since he was a baby.
6
“Hey,” Gabe said softly.
Leaning against a sapling in the middle of the woods, Sam lifted his head but didn’t turn around. Gabe knew that was probably due to the tears he didn’t want to show. “I can’t go back there.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. Or to go home or to calm down, or to hang in there or to talk to me. And I’m not going to tell you Kyle’s in a better place or any of that crap, either. This sucks. You’re supposed to be pissed off and messed up. He was your friend. You’re allowed to act like a complete asshole if you want to. No one’s gonna question it.”
It would attract attention, though, if Gabe let his own wrenching emotions spill over. So he contained them, tried to focus on Sam’s grief rather than his own.
Sam nodded slowly, rubbed his eyes, turned around. “I need to be alone.”
God, the kid looked like hell. His eyes were red, his face pale and gleaming with tear tracks. “That’s understandable, too. You want solitude, you got it. I have to make a small request, though.”
Sam sighed heavily. “What?”
“Could you get that solitude you need at your place—or my place, if you want? Just so your mom can focus on—what she has to do instead of worrying about you being alone in the woods somewhere.”
Sam sniffed hard, knuckled his nose roughly. “I don’t want to think about what she has to do.”
“Then don’t. She probably doesn’t want to think about it, either. Just focus on the end results. You have a lot of questions. Kyle’s parents will, too. Maybe she can help answer them.”
Sam nodded in small jerky motions. “She has to.” He lowered his head, shook it slowly. “He looked like he was sleeping, you know? Just like he was sleeping.”
“I know.”
“What the hell happened to him, Gabe?”
Gabe shook his head slowly. “I wish I knew. Maybe we will soon.”
“So what’s the silver lining on this one, huh? Can you tell me that?”
“I didn’t say everything had a silver lining. Some things just plain suck, and this is one of them. What I said was, you have a choice about what gets your attention. You can let this eat you up inside, let it become the defining moment of your life and go downhill from there. Or you can grieve and rage, and then start to get past it. But I don’t expect you to do anything but grieve and rage right now. No one does. You wouldn’t be normal if you did otherwise.”
“I never cared much about being normal.” Sam’s face twisted, and fresh tears sprang free. “Dammit, Kyle, how can you be dead?”
“Ah, hell.” Gabe clapped the kid in a hard hug and was surprised that Sam allowed it. His own eyes were wet when they stepped apart. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll phone your mom from my place.”
“I don’t even know where your place is. If it’s one of the inns or—”
“No way. I rented a cabin up in the woods above the falls. Big place, lake out back, dock—”
“I know the one. It’s kind of notorious, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. Doesn’t bother me in the least. Will it bother you?”
“I don’t have room for much to bother me right now, Gabe. Everything’s busy, just…”
“Grieving and raging. I know, kid. I know.”
Carrie got out of Bryan Kendall’s car at the firehouse. She’d stayed at the scene, observing and making notes while the crime scene team took photographs and measurements, and gathered trace evidence. She’d supervised as Kyle’s body had been moved at last, zipped into a body bag and carried to the nearest spot an ambulance could reach.
She stayed, feeling like Kyle’s guardian, until the doors closed and the ambulance drove away, taking him to the hospital morgue.
“Thanks for the ride,” she told Bryan.
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“Off to talk to Kyle’s parents now?”
“The chief broke the news in person. Figured it was best to get it done before those volunteers came down off the mountain and set fire to the Shado
w Falls grapevine.”
Carrie nodded, looking at the nearly empty firehouse parking lot. Then she spotted Sadie, who’d been bused back with all the other volunteers. She was sitting alone near Carrie’s minivan. She tried to wave, but Sadie’s gaze was turned inward, her face very still.
“What do you make of that Ambrose Peck character?” Bryan asked.
Carrie tugged her attention away from Sadie and focused on Bryan again. “Why ask me?”
Bryan shrugged. “He said you two had dinner together last night. What’s he like?”
“Anyone of us could have found Kyle this morning, Bryan.”
“You said he was quite a ways ahead of everyone else, though.”
Nodding slowly, she thought before speaking. “Yes, but then again, so was Nate Kelly. And you’re not asking questions about him.”
“I don’t need to ask questions about him. He’s a local. I know him. So what about Peck?”
She shrugged. “He’s a nervous little man. Kind of…quirky.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. Awkward, uncomfortable around strangers. Fussy. Boring as hell.” Blinking, she met Bryan’s eyes. “He doesn’t seem like a boogeyman, though. He was a lousy date, impatient, and rude to the waitress, but that doesn’t mean he’s capable of—” She couldn’t say the rest, so she shifted gears. “Besides, given what we saw out there, it’s way too soon to assume—”
“We won’t make any assumptions until the autopsy’s done.”
“It’s hard not to speculate. Hard not to go down to the morgue and start looking for answers myself.”
“It’s out of your hands, Carrie, and that’s a blessing, really. You’re too close. Thank God the state police want their own guy on this.”
She nodded, but remained torn about the decision by the state police to bring in their own team, including a forensic pathologist who would perform the autopsy. Then again, she didn’t have any say in it, so she didn’t suppose her opinion mattered.
“Good night, Carrie. Tell Sam I’m really sorry.”
“I will. Good night.”
Bryan made a loop around the parking lot and headed back out. Carrie walked over to where Sadie sat. She felt as if her legs were made of lead, as if she’d walked a hundred miles.
Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 9
