Eddie deflated into a slump, his expression mutinous, but he did manage a grumbled “Okay.”
Hoping she’d made her point since that was never a sure thing with a teenager, she decided that about now her son likely needed another guy to commiserate with. She leaned her elbows on the counter and gave him a half-smile to let him know the worst part of their talk was over. “Since you don’t have any homework with you, why don’t you go and ask Anchorman to make you something to eat.”
He nodded as he closed the technical manual he was reading, replacing it in his backpack before sliding off the stool. He started to walk off and then stopped and gave her a worried look. “Mom? Who was that guy?”
“I don’t know, Eddie,” Ricki said. “There wasn’t any identification on him.”
“Someone killed him.” Eddie made it more of a statement than a question.
“Yes.” There wasn’t any point in denying it. Eddie would have seen the hole in the victim’s chest, just like she had. She hoped the image wouldn’t stay with him, but it was something she’d have to keep an eye on and warn his dad to do the same. Unfortunately.
Her ex-husband had been adamantly against her going into law enforcement in the first place, and even more vocal in his opinion since she’d taken the badge for a second time. Her son was still confused about the whole thing. She could see it in his eyes every time his gaze landed on the badge attached to her belt.
The last time she’d carried it, she’d ended up with a bullet in her side and her partner had been killed. But if she hadn’t rejoined her old agency, Eddie’s dad would be dead at the hands of a serial killer.
Tough choice for a kid, she mused as she watched him disappear through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
Marcie strolled up, carrying a coffeepot and two empty mugs. She set the cups down on the counter and efficiently filled them both to the brim before pushing one toward Ricki. The waitress took the seat Eddie had vacated and sighed.
“Feels good to get off my feet.” She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and watched Ricki over its rim as she took a slow sip.
Wrapping long, slender fingers around the second mug, Ricki stared down into the steaming brew, thinking about the bodies they’d found in the lighthouse. They were on their way to the ME in Tacoma, Clay was probably headed back to his office by now, and she needed to call all this in to ASAC Hamilton. Aside from the fact he was her boss, meaning she was obligated to report it to him, she also wanted his take on a guy who’d been shot decades ago and might have been a ranger.
“Penny for your thoughts, if they aren’t all centered around a dead man,” Marcie said.
Ricki looked up and over her friend’s head, to glare at the group of five older men occupying the table in the very center of the room. Pete was well past seventy and the biggest conduit of gossip in town. Every morning that the Sunny Side Up was open, he was outside, waiting for the door to be unlocked so he could lay claim to that center table. Once his group of like-minded cronies joined him, they spent several hours hashing out the latest rumors swirling about town—or any of the three towns that made up the Bay—before leaving a generous tip and strolling out to take their daily walk.
The group wasn’t particular about who had the juiciest story, as long as they got to hear it first. She liked Pete and his charming gang of friends with their refreshingly old-fashioned manners, but seriously, one of these days she was going to have to haul them all in and grill them on just how they always managed to find out her official business almost before she did.
“Well, are they?” Marcie repeated.
Ricki sighed and took a sip of her coffee before answering. “Not exactly. I mean, there wasn’t just one dead man.”
Marcie let out a soft groan, propped her elbows on the counter, and held her head between her hands. “Not again. How many this time?”
“Two,” Ricki said. “The one Eddie and his friends found, and another one they didn’t see because it was in the shadows and had been there a while.”
“Oh.” Marcie’s brow furrowed as she lowered her voice. “That explains why Pete only knew about the one.”
“How so?” Ricki asked.
“Well, Pete heard it from Brad, who’s married to Alice. Now of course you know Alice. She’s Susan’s sister, who is Nate’s mom, so she . . .”
Ricki raised her eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience. “Yeah. I get it. Small-town gossip and greased lightning. All the same thing.”
Marcie smiled. “That’s right. But this bit about a second body, now that’s—”
“Going to stay between us,” Ricki cut in. “Isn’t it?”
The older woman raised a hand and drew an X over her left breast. “I promise. Not a word.”
Satisfied with that, Ricki nodded. She knew Marcie’s lips would be sealed. The waitress considered everyone in the diner her family, and anything they discussed there was strictly “family business.” If anyone knew how to keep the gossips in check, it was Marcie. She was born in the Bay and had lived here her entire life. The thought made another idea pop into Ricki’s head.
She leaned forward, casting a glance down the counter to be sure the customer sitting four place settings down wasn’t paying any attention to them. “Have you ever heard of a park ranger going missing?”
Her friend blinked. “Missing? As in, disappeared?” She blinked again, then lifted a hand to cover her mouth as her eyes popped wide open. “That second body you found was a park ranger? Who?”
“That’s just it,” Ricki kept her voice low and her gaze on the rest of the customers. “I don’t know. According to TK, he’s been dead at least a decade. Probably longer.”
“What?” Marcie’s expression went from surprised to skeptical in less than a second. “That would have been all over town if a park ranger had gone missing. I never heard anything like that.”
Ricki wasn’t surprised. She’d thought exactly the same thing. If a ranger had simply upped and disappeared, it would still be the talk of the town. Or at least part of the collective memory. Something here wasn’t adding up. “What about the old lighthouse? Do you know who owns it?”
“Owns it?” Marcie shrugged. “No one owns it. It’s just always been there.”
“Well, someone owns the land,” Ricki pointed out. When Marcie gave her a blank stare, Ricki let out another sigh. It looks like she’d be paying a visit to the occasionally open office that served as a combined city hall for the towns in the Bay. “How far back do you think city hall has kept land records?”
Marcie took another sip of her coffee then waved at Anchorman, who was pointing to a heaping plate of food he’d just slid onto the wall cutout that served as a food pickup window. She shoved off the stool then glanced over at Ricki. “Well, there're records for at least seventy-five years, according to Lissy. She’s been the clerk there since before I was born, so she should know. But after seven years, she ships the records off to the county courthouse.” She smoothed out her apron and picked up the coffeepot she’d set down on the counter. Her mouth drooped at the corners and the gaze she settled on Ricki was filled with worry. “Two dead bodies and one of them was killed ten years ago and no one even noticed? What’s going on up at that old lighthouse?”
Not waiting for an answer that Ricki didn’t have, Marcie moved off, giving every patron at the counter a gentle pat on the shoulder as she passed by them. Ricki watched her for a moment and then turned to stare out the large window at the front of the diner. Like it or not, Clay was right. She had another murder on her hands.
Chapter Five
It was just shy of eight in the morning when Ricki climbed out of her ten-year-old jeep while the engine was still doing its usual dance of sputtering a protest before completely shutting off. She gave the front tire a hard kick as payback for the temperamental vehicle taking five minutes to start that morning. It wasn’t much of a payback, but it was the best she could do before stalking across the parking lot toward the low
, sprawled-out building that served as headquarters for the local police department.
The two-man department was owned by all three of the towns the local residents simply referred to as “the Bay.” To save money, they shared not only a police department but most city services. That included the single-story, six-room, all-purpose municipal building that served as the monthly meeting location for the combined city council. Both the police and municipal buildings were located in Edington, the largest of the three towns, and a short ten-to-fifteen-minute drive from Ricki’s cabin, depending on what speed her jeep decided to go.
Since Clay and his one deputy didn’t need all the space in the large building they occupied, the city council leased most of it out to the National Park Service. Which was why the parking lot was full of vehicles from the law enforcement unit assigned to Olympic National Park. It was also Ricki’s home base as the only agent from the Investigative Services Bureau in the state. Well, if you didn’t count ASAC Hamilton, and Ricki didn’t since her boss had taken on an administrative role and rarely did fieldwork anymore.
While the headquarters was listed as her official office address, she didn’t have any assigned space in the building and only used it when she needed a conference room, or somewhere to interview a witness. She usually worked from the small desk set up in her living room, only shedding her favored attire of faded jeans and a T-shirt, for pressed slacks and a tailored blouse on the rare occasions she had to meet ASAC Hamilton at his office in downtown Seattle.
Fortunately for Ricki, that didn’t occur too often. She and Eddie had moved back to Brewer just over a year ago, and she’d quickly adopted the local habit of actively avoiding any attire that couldn’t stand up to a hike along the wilderness trails in the park.
So far her morning had gone much better than yesterday’s had. No new dead bodies to report, and Hamilton had given the go-ahead for her to ask for the services of the park law enforcement officer who had helped her on her last case. The Mountain Killer, Ricki thought with a roll of her eyes. That was what the press had dubbed him. At least her current victim wouldn’t draw the horde of reporters a serial killer did. Too many murders happened every day for one that went down a decade ago to draw much attention.
She pushed through the glass double doors that opened into the lobby of the joint headquarters for the two agencies. An extra-long desk spanned most of the back, with a line of fencing and a small swinging gate attached to one side. Ray sat in his usual place behind the desk, guarding the entrance to the hallway leading to the offices inside. His eyes squinted against the sunlight that outlined the figure coming through the door, but as soon as he realized who she was, his mouth stretched out in a wide smile.
“Hello there, Special Agent Ricki James.”
Ricki smiled back at him. The elderly man was proud to have an eight in front of his age. Still active, with only a slight bend in his posture, he volunteered his services at the front desk seven days a week. She wasn’t even sure exactly when Ray Dunning arrived to take up his duties, or when he left. Whenever she came into the building, he was there. At least that had been the case since his nephew, John, had left for college. Until then, Ray had spent his time working as a plumber and raising his sister’s only child. She had died shortly after the birth of her son, and Ray had stepped into the role of parent. John was almost eighteen years her senior, so Ricki hadn’t known him very well, and what she did know had mostly come from his very proud uncle.
“How’s John doing?” she asked, smiling at the pleased look on Ray’s face.
“Oh fine, fine. I talked to him last night, and he said he’s coming down for an extended visit.” Ray beamed as he delivered that news. “He wants to do a little fishing. Said he’d like to visit our secret spot on the Dosewallips River. I found it years ago—a pretty piece of calm water, surrounded by trees growing right to the edge of the bank and a couple of big boulders so it’s hidden away pretty good.” Ray gave her a broad wink. “Now don’t you go asking me where it is, because I won’t tell you.”
Ricki, who’d grown up playing in Olympic Park, was sure she knew exactly where Ray and his nephew’s “secret spot” was, but she held up her hands and laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
It was too bad his nephew couldn’t spare more time away from his business in Seattle so he and his uncle could be together at their favorite fishing spot along the river. But barring that, Ray had always seemed to prefer hanging out at the police headquarters.
Whenever Clay had suggested he spend more time with his family and friends, doing something he enjoyed, Ray always waved it aside, loudly declaring that he liked what he was doing just fine. Clay was stubborn enough to bring it up on a regular basis, but he always got the same answer. Ricki could have told the chief it was a waste of time, but she figured it was something he needed to find out for himself.
Ricki leaned over to get a look at the desk Ray always kept neat as a pin. There was never so much as a paper clip out of place, even though Jules had a habit of dumping all his traffic tickets onto the desk at the end of the day for Ray to sort through. And the deputy wrote a mountain of traffic tickets, especially once the tourist season got underway.
“I wish I had your knack for keeping everything organized,” Ricki said. “You can’t tell me you’ve already processed Tucker’s traffic citations?”
Ray’s watery hazel eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. “There weren’t many to process since he spent most of the day traveling between here and that old lighthouse.” His expression grew serious as he stared up at her. “I hear we have another murder to deal with.”
Remembering that Jules had left to take the boys home before she’d pointed out the skeleton in the corner to Clay, Ricki didn’t correct him on the body count. “It seems so. I thought I’d stop in and see if the chief needed any help.”
“I don’t know. He got a call just before you came in. Might still be on the phone with the lady. At least his line is still lit up.” Ray pointed to the phone on his desk. It had a long row of buttons on one side, all dark except one that was glowing red. “She said she was calling from Chicago. Had a hard time understanding her, though. She sounded like she was crying and didn’t even stop for one second.” Ray lifted a finger that was permanently bent at one joint from arthritis. “Not even a second. I was glad to pass her on to the chief.”
“I’ll bet,” Ricki murmured. Odds were the distraught caller had been in a rental car and had received a ticket from Jules. According to Clay, that made up the bulk of upset callers.
“You go on back.” Ray waved his arm toward the hallway. “He’ll be glad to see you.” He peered up at her as she opened the small gate next to his desk. “He might even get a chance to ask you out on another date.”
Ricki shut her eyes on a silent groan. She’d managed to have one date with Clay, and of course everyone in the Bay knew about it. It wouldn’t surprise her if all her neighbors could recite what the two of them had had for dinner and how long they’d been at the restaurant. Which was all the gossips had to chew on because so far, their first and only date had been a few weeks ago.
Between their jobs, and her son and his activities, plus keeping things going smoothly at the diner, they simply hadn’t managed to work a follow-up date into their schedules. But it wasn’t as if they didn’t spend any time together. They saw each other practically every day, and usually managed to grab a quick bite together, either here in the break room or at her place.
Okay, so maybe they mostly talked over cases instead of trading stories about personal stuff, and the setting wasn’t exactly conducive to romance. But she still preferred that to going out just for the sake of sitting in a restaurant so they could hash over a relationship that had the possibility of transitioning from friendship to something more intimate.
Since she’d married her high school sweetheart, she’d never had much practice at dating. When their nine-year marriage had fallen apart, it had been hard on everyone, which w
as why she’d sworn off relationships of the romantic kind and had successfully managed to avoid them ever since.
Until Clay.
And she found herself happy at the thought of having him around. And not just as a friend. A big step for her, and one she was still trying to get used to. Which was why she wasn’t ready for any deep discussions about it. She still needed time to let it sink in.
She paused outside his office. The door, which had a paper sign stating “Chief” taped to it, was partially open. She stuck her head around its edge, taking a step inside when Clay waved for her to come in. The office had bare-bones furnishings, with just a desk, two folding chairs for visitors, and a single filing cabinet in the far corner.
A big man was seated in one of the chairs in front of Clay’s desk. He turned his head and smiled at Ricki, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Cyrus McCormick had high cheekbones and dark hair liberally shot through with several shades of gray. He was the well-respected supervising officer of the Olympic Park’s law enforcement unit. He was also Ricki’s uncle.
She smiled back as she walked across the small space, taking a seat in the vacant chair next to him before grinning at Clay.
“I hear you had an upset caller already this morning.”
Clay shook his head before leaning back in his chair. “Of course you did. Any police business is the worst-kept secret in the Bay.”
One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2) Page 4
