One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2)

by C. R. Chandler

  Marcie reached over and gently patted Ricki’s shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, honey. Your mom wouldn’t be this way if she had any choice in the matter.”

  “I know.” Ricki forced her one fully functional hand that was gripping the steering wheel way too tightly to relax. She wanted to talk about something else. Anything else, actually, so she dove into the subject that was guaranteed to set Marcie off and running on a one-woman talkathon. “How are your kids doing?”

  The rest of the trip passed in a pleasant retelling of her six grown children’s latest antics and traumas. Marcie was still talking when Ricki exited the interstate and headed down 5th Avenue. A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel on Roosevelt Way. “I’ll go with you and pay for the hotel.”

  “You will not.” Marcie grabbed her small overnight bag that was sitting on the floor, right next to her feet, and opened the truck door. “You stay put. I only need to check in, grab a couple of keys, then dump my stuff in the room. I’ll be back in ten minutes. You pull up a map of that hospital and figure out where they’re keeping Anchorman.”

  Ricki started to argue but found herself talking to thin air when Marcie hopped out and shut the heavy passenger side door behind her. Wondering how she’d come to be surrounded by so many stubborn, bossy people, she took out her phone and pulled up a map of the medical center. Marcie was as good as her word, and ten minutes later they were on their way. Since Ricki had the map on her phone, they had no trouble finding the right elevator. Having been in this same unit when her dad had passed away, Ricki knew the drill. She turned off her phone and had a paper with all her personal information on it so the nursing staff would have the contact number for what they called the family spokesperson. She hoped she wouldn’t have to argue with them about it, since she wasn’t a legal relation, but she was prepared to do just that if that was what it took to make sure Anchorman knew his family was there.

  They had just made it to the nursing desk when TK exited a room directly across from it. Relieved to see the old curmudgeon, Ricki told the desk nurse she’d be back in a moment and turned to face TK.

  “Glad to see you made it.” He peered around her and looked at the nurse. “These are the people I was telling you about.” He pointed at Ricki. “She’s Special Agent James, and she’ll be the spokesperson.”

  Ricki smiled her gratitude as she handed over the paper with her contact information on it. “Thanks, TK. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “Heard you’d be headed out this way today, so thought I’d come and run a little interference and also look in on my patient.” He narrowed his gaze on Ricki. “I thought it would be safe to leave town today. Since you wouldn’t be around, I figured no one would be run over, shot, or filled with narcotics against their will.”

  Next to Ricki, Marcie snickered. “You might want to rush home since she isn’t staying long, TK. She needs to get back to town.”

  “Of course she does,” TK snapped back. “Someone has to catch the person putting people into hospitals.” His voice dropped several levels and he peered at Ricki over the rim of his glasses. “Or the morgue. I haven’t forgotten about that young girl, Ricki James, and I doubt if you have either.”

  Ricki’s blue eyes went fierce as she stared back at him. “No. I haven’t.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Ricki tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen below. Her hair was still damp from the shower, but she felt better after a thorough dousing under hot water. Getting her hair washed for the first time in two days—and being able to put on clean jeans and a fresh shirt after spending another night on the couch sleeping in the same clothes she’d worn all day—had been close to heaven. Not wanting to wake her uncle up by going into her bedroom to retrieve her hairdryer, she settled for a towel around her shoulders while her long fall of dark hair drip-dried into a slightly wavy column that hung down her back.

  Corby had roused himself when she’d stood up and stretched her back before heading to the only bathroom in the cabin. Now he was sitting patiently by his food bowl, an expectant look in his liquid-brown eyes. Having no doubt he’d been waiting there since she’d first stirred that morning, she rewarded his patience by filling his bowl and giving him a pat on the head as he did his usual nosedive into his food.

  The clock still hadn’t reached 7 a.m., so it was too early to make her first call of the day. Flipping her wet hair back over her shoulder, Ricki padded her way to the stove and contemplated the coffeepot. She was feeling a little desperate for a morning hit of caffeine, but wasn’t sure her empty stomach could take the result of her particular lack of skill in brewing it up.

  “Don’t touch that.” Her uncle stood at the bottom of the stairs, clad only in a T-shirt, boxers, and a pair of tube socks. He looked like the caricature of a grouchy old man, which was also exactly how he sounded. “I’m pretty sure you making coffee has to be a crime somewhere.”

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Like wandering around the house in your socks and underwear?”

  “For the time being, this is a bachelor pad, so it’s appropriate attire. You’re the lone female, so you’re the one intruding.” He walked over to the stove and tried to push her to one side. “There’s a message on that machine in the corner.” He looked over at her and frowned. “Why do you still have one of those things, anyway?”

  The old-fashioned answering machine sat on the far corner of her desk, its red light blinking. Surprised she hadn’t noticed it last night, Ricki abandoned her place by the stove and crossed the room in five long strides. “Mom’s never liked cell phones, so I always keep a landline for her to call.” Not that it mattered. She doubted her mom even knew how to dial a phone number anymore. But she wasn’t ready to let go of the longtime habit of catering to one of Miriam McCormick’s little quirks. “How did your visit go?”

  Cy carried the coffeepot over to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold-water tap. “Good. She thought Eddie was your dad, but he didn’t seem to mind it.” There was an uncomfortable pause before he added quietly, “She didn’t ask about anyone else. I’m sorry, Richelle. But she was happy to see Eddie and didn’t bring up any more visits from dead people, so overall, it went pretty well.”

  Another small piece of Ricki’s heart broke off and floated away, but when it came to coping with what was happening to her mom, she was used to it. Nodding, she reached over and pressed the play button on the answering machine, waiting through its first announcement that she had one new message.

  “Hi, Ricki James. It’s Wanda.” Wanda’s voice flowed out into the room. “I’ve had this landline number of yours for a while, and thought I’d leave a message on it instead of your cell phone. I know you’re visiting Anchorman today, and Eddie is off to see his grandma, so didn’t want to disturb any of you.”

  From behind her, Cy muttered, “How the hell did she know that?”

  “Anyway,” Wanda continued. “On the way home from visiting my friend, I swung by mama’s place in that retirement home she’s living in. I’d have brought her back to talk to you herself, but her arthritis has gotten so bad, she doesn’t leave her apartment these days. But she’s still as sharp as ever and had some things to say about those questions of yours. I’m home now, so you come by anytime and I’ll fill you in on all the details. Just give me a call. I’ll have the coffee waiting.”

  Ricki saved the message then walked over to the narrow table in front of the couch and picked up her phone.

  “You aren’t calling her now, are you?” her uncle asked. “It’s not even seven thirty in the morning yet.” He set the full pot on the stove and started measuring out coffee grounds from a can he’d taken out of the cupboard. “And since when is being the town gossip passed down from one generation to the next?”

  “When you’re a natural at it, I guess,” Ricki said, quickly switching to a greeting when Wanda answered her phone. They agreed on an eight o’clock meetup at Wanda’s place, which gave
Ricki just enough time to finish drying her hair and get on her way. As she dashed from the room, her uncle’s voice chased after her.

  “I suppose this means you’ll be skipping breakfast again?”

  True to her word, Wanda was sitting in a porch chair when Ricki pulled up exactly thirty-five minutes later. As she climbed the steps, she caught the heavenly smell of coffee, and smiled her thanks when Wanda picked up one of her unique, oversized ceramic mugs and handed it to her. Taking a seat, Ricki held up the mug in a silent toast before taking a long, slow sip.

  “Thanks.” Ricki set the mug on the table and twisted her upper body so she was facing Wanda. “What do you have?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Wanda said, but her eyes were bright with anticipation. “But I’m thinking you’ll be able to make something of it. But first, I’d like to know how Anchorman is doing.”

  Tit for tat, Ricki thought as she nodded. “Fair enough. According to TK and the nurses on the intensive care unit, he’s holding his own, which we’re all taking as an encouraging sign.”

  “What can we do?”

  The simplicity of the offer of help had the small knot that had taken up permanent residence in Ricki’s stomach loosening a little. “I don’t know yet, but when I do, I promise to give you a call.”

  “I’m holding you to that, Richelle James.” Wanda settled more deeply in her chair. “Now, for Special Agent James, here’s what I know. Mama doesn’t remember any ranger going missing, and that goes back to her own childhood. She did say there was one hanging about town back then. He drove a fancy sports car.”

  Ricki’s pulse sped up, but she kept a blank expression and held on to her patience, knowing she’d get more if she let Wanda tell the story in her own way. “The only local girl who Mama could think he might have been seeing is Glory Rancup. Mama said she had the morals of an alley cat, and didn’t care who she jumped into the sack with.”

  “Glory Rancup,” Ricki repeated. She took out her phone and tapped the name into the notes function.

  Wanda kept talking, even as she strained to see what Ricki was writing down. “According to Mama, Glory was the only girl in town who’d play fast and loose with some park ranger. Especially one with a fancy sports car. She ended up leaving town with some salesman who was passing through, and she’s never been back. The only other girl to leave town around then was Jenny. But she came back a year later, after her husband was killed.”

  “That would be Ray Dunning’s sister?” Ricki asked.

  “Well, sister-in-law, I suspect. Jenny’s maiden name was Norris. Since she married a Dunning, and Ray’s last name is Dunning, then it follows that Jenny’s husband was Ray’s brother. Mama said it was a big surprise to everyone that Jenny just upped and ran off with a young sailor.”

  When Wanda paused, Ricki carefully asked, “Why was it a surprise?”

  The older woman flashed a self-satisfied smile. “Now, I asked that very same thing. It was because Jenny had a boyfriend at the time. Mama said she and Jimmy Anders had been together practically since she was in diapers and he was a toddler. Her running off like that broke his heart.”

  “What happened when she came home after being away for a year?”

  “Mama said she just moved back in with her parents and everything went back to the way it was, except, of course, that Jenny had a baby with her. After that, she couldn’t say for sure. Mama stopped keeping track of things in the Bay right when Jenny’s parents died in some kind of car accident. It happened about six months after their daughter and grandchild came home. Mama said that Jenny didn’t last long after that, and they’re all buried together in the family plot next to the church on Tucker Street. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”

  “I know it.” Ricki’s gaze went blank as she silently fitted puzzle pieces together. She didn’t like the way it was coming out, but that was how the picture was forming in her mind.

  “I guess it wasn’t long before John Dunning’s uncle showed up to take over his upbringing. Mama wasn’t sure about how all that happened, and let me tell you, that’s a rare thing when my mama doesn’t know all the details about something that went on in town back then. But anyway, it was a very unselfish thing for Ray to do, and we’re all very proud to have a man like that living in the Bay.” Wanda ended on a triumphant note, as though Ray’s sacrifices for his infant nephew had been her idea.

  “If Jenny didn’t have any other relatives around to take care of her baby, who buried her?”

  “Why, I imagine Ray did. That’s just something a good man would do, I think.”

  When Ricki didn’t say a word, Wanda gave her a considering look. “So, what do you make of it all, Special Agent James?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But there’s something I need you to do.”

  Wanda’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s that?”

  “I need you to keep everything you’ve told me to yourself until I can check some things out.” Ricki’s stare hardened. “I need your promise on that, Wanda.”

  The older woman smoothed down the tight cloth of her yoga pants, then set her chair into a rocking motion. “I can do that, since I know once you figure out whatever it is you’re trying to solve, I’ll be the first one you call.” She set her heel down hard on the ground and stopped the rocking motion. “Won’t it?”

  Deciding it was a bargain she could live with, Ricki held out a hand. “We have a deal.”

  The small church still shone under a fresh coat of white paint. The steeple rose above the tree line, and the bells housed there still announced a service every Sunday morning. Behind the back lawn, where social events where held throughout the summer months, was an old wrought-iron fence, separating the area used by the living from the space cleared out for the dead.

  Generations of families who’d lived out their lives in the Bay were buried on the other side of that fence. Whenever more space was needed, a few more trees were sacrificed to make way for new grave sites.

  Ricki’s truck was the only one parked in the lot when she pushed open the back gate and started down the narrow gravel path that wound through the cemetery. It took her a good forty minutes of searching, but she finally came across the large plot for the Norris family. She read each marker, marching down through a hundred years before she came to a double headstone with the names Fred and Ethyl Norris, loving parents to Jenny. Ricki stared at it for several moments before moving on to the grave with an angel on top of the white-granite marker. Fresh flowers lay in front of it, right below the inscription: Jennifer Anne Norris. Loving daughter and mother, taken from us far too soon. Ricki stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed as she thought of a young girl who had chosen a road she wasn’t prepared for. She finally reached out a hand and laid it gently on top of the gravestone. “There never was a Dunning, was there Jenny? I’m sorry for what Benjamin Graham did to you, but I have to make all this right. I have a promise to keep. I hope you understand.”

  Chapter Forty

  “I can’t go into it, but I’ll have him over there as soon as I can arrange it. Thanks.” Ricki pressed the button to end the call, cutting off any more questions from the other end. She knew she would pay for that later, but right now she didn’t have the time to deal with any more on her plate than she already had. At least that was the last call she had to make in order to get the wheels into motion.

  Stepping out of the truck, she headed for the front door of her cabin, stopping to wave at Eddie and Corby, who appeared in the open door of the bot-building garage. When they both vanished back inside, she pushed open the front door, startling her uncle, who was sitting at the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in front of him and the morning paper in his hands.

  She ignored him as she headed straight for her desk and scooped up a stack of blank index cards along with a black marker. She carried them over to the counter and started writing notes on them as her uncle snapped the paper shut and slowly set it aside.

  “Wh
at are you doing?”

  “Lining up the case.” She leaned to the side and gave him the once-over before straightening up and returning to her notes. “Glad to see you’ve got pants on. I need you to do something for me.”

  “Such as?” Cy asked, tilting his head as he read one of the cards she’d set to the side. “Who is Jennifer Norris?”

  “I need you to take Eddie over to Bear’s place and stay there with him,” Ricki said, as if she hadn’t heard his question. “I’ve already talked to Bear, and he’s expecting you, Eddie, and Corby.”

  Cy slid off the stool and stood with his legs braced apart and his arms crossed over his chest. “Even the dog? You know something. What is it?”

  Ricki paused in her writing and looked over at him. “I think I know something,” she corrected. “And we might need to move fast.”

  “Who’s we? And what are you going to be doing?” Cy demanded, not budging an inch.

  “Clay and Dan are on their way over, and we’ll make our plans from there.”

  “So is Hamilton.”

  Ricki blinked, then groaned. Her boss was on his way? What was he doing out of his Seattle office? She slowly turned to face her uncle, grimacing when he simply nodded. “Why is he here?”

  Cy shrugged and stepped over to grab his jacket, which was draped over the back of the couch. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. I’ve been told to run Eddie and the dog over to Bear’s place.” He thrust his arms through the jacket’s sleeves and zipped the garment up before reaching for the knob, yanking open the front door, and closing it behind him with enough force to make his mood known.

  Ricki sighed. Something else she’d have to deal with after this was all over and the dust had settled down. She watched out the window as Cy herded a reluctant Eddie, along with a willing Corby, into his truck and backed down the driveway far enough that he could make a three-point turn and point his vehicle in the right direction. A moment later they were gone in a swirl of dust and gravel.