by Lara Lacombe
“Of course I won’t,” Max said. “I’ll be in the main lobby in a few minutes.”
“Roger that.”
Max shoved the phone into his pocket and picked up the pace. Hang on, Molly, he thought. I’m coming.
Chapter 9
Someone was at her door again.
Molly sat on the couch, feeling numb as she heard the knocks. It wasn’t Mason, that much she knew. He and Elaine had left shortly after hearing the news of Sabrina’s death. Molly would have liked for him to stay so they could comfort each other, but she didn’t feel right around Elaine at the moment. It was going to take time for the memories of her sister-in-law’s tirade to fade and for her hurt feelings to recover.
Normally, Molly would talk to Mason about what his wife had said, but she wasn’t about to pile more on him at the moment. She’d seen them to the door, then settled on the sofa and tried to process what was happening between fielding phone calls from concerned and shocked relatives.
As the knocking persisted, Molly considered going back to bed and drawing the covers over her head. Maybe if she went back to sleep, she’d wake later to find this was all a nightmare conjured by stress. Surely her sister wasn’t really dead! Molly had heard from her not that long ago—Sabrina had been headed out to a bar with friends. Her sister had seemed normal, with no indication that there was anything bothering her. How, then, had she ended up buried in the snow in Roaring Springs?
It’s a mistake, Molly decided. That had to be it. The body recovered probably looked like Sabrina, but it wasn’t really her.
She got to her feet. Might as well answer the door, tell whoever was on the other side that her sister was fine. Then she’d call Mason—he’d be so happy to know it was all just a misunderstanding.
Max and Furbert stood on the porch, both sporting worried expressions.
Molly blinked in surprise. “Uh, how did you get here?”
“Blaine brought us,” Max said. He turned and waved.
Looking past his shoulder, she saw Blaine in his truck. He rolled down the window. “I know you didn’t want to be bothered, but I thought you might like to see the dog,” her cousin yelled.
Molly glanced down at Furbert, who was staring up at her with kind eyes. The muscles of her throat tightened, making it hard for her to speak. So she nodded instead.
“Call me when you want me to take ’em back,” Blaine continued. He stared at her with such open concern that she nearly started crying on the spot. But that was silly, when she knew everything was okay.
“Thanks,” she managed to choke out. “I will.”
She stepped back to allow Max and Furbert inside her home. Max stopped in the hallway, waiting for her to shut the door. When she turned back, she found him watching her with his brow furrowed.
“Where’s your sling?” She gestured to his arm, no longer held in place against his chest.
“What? Oh, I took it off. I’m fine,” he said dismissively.
Molly shrugged, accepting his assessment.
“How are you?” he asked quietly. He grimaced. “I know that’s a ridiculous question, under the circumstances, but I don’t know what else to say.”
“I’m okay,” she replied. Surprise flickered across his face. “No, really, I am.” She began to walk toward the den, dog and man following her.
She reached for her phone and sat on the couch. “It’s a mistake, you see,” she said, pulling up her list of contacts. “I was just getting ready to call Sabrina when you knocked on the door.”
Max stood in front of her, his green eyes full of sympathy as she dialed. The phone rang and rang, until finally, her sister’s voice mail picked up.
Hmm. That was strange. Normally Sabrina answered when she called her.
“It’s me,” Molly said. “Call me when you get this, please.”
She hung up, shot Max a glance. “She’s probably busy.”
“Molly,” he murmured softly. He knelt in front of her, reached for her hands.
“I know,” she said, lifting them up so he couldn’t touch her. “I’ll text her. Maybe she’s in a movie or something and can’t answer her phone.” She typed out a quick message, then leaned back and waited for her sister’s response.
Max said nothing. Furbert jumped onto the sofa and curled up next to her, his body a warm weight against her side and the outside of her thigh.
As the minutes ticked by with no response, Molly began to worry.
“Maybe her battery died,” she said, a sick feeling spreading over her. “Or maybe her phone was stolen. Or she left it at home.”
Max reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“She’s not dead.” She tried to sound forceful, but her voice shook. “She can’t be.”
“What did the police say?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to them—Mason is the one who got the call.” And he hadn’t told her exactly what they’d said, just that Sabrina’s body had been found. Molly had been so shocked at the news, she hadn’t thought to question him, to find out why the police thought the body they’d found belonged to their sister.
“I’m sure he got it wrong,” she insisted, tapping on her phone again. She’d simply call the police and ask for an explanation. That was probably the fastest way to get this all cleared up.
Molly was patched through to Deputy Sheriff Daria Bloom. “Ms. Gilford... I’m so sorry for your loss. How may I help you?”
“That’s just it, Deputy Sheriff Bloom. I’m calling because I think there’s been a mistake. My sister is in Denver—there’s no way you uncovered her body today.”
The line was silent for a moment. When the other woman spoke again, it was with the careful tone one used when talking to a scared child. “Ms. Gilford, I know the news must have come as a shock. But I can assure you—”
“How do you know it was Sabrina?” Molly interrupted, tired of this game.
“Several physical characteristics matched those of your sister.”
“Sabrina isn’t the only woman with long curly hair,” Molly replied.
“Yes, ma’am,” Deputy Sheriff Bloom said. Her tone was kind—she seemed like a nice woman, but Molly wasn’t in the mood for placations. “However, there were other identifying marks we used to make the identification.”
“I want to see the body,” Molly declared. It was clear she wasn’t getting her point across over the phone. She simply needed to talk to Deputy Sheriff Bloom in person and show her why she was wrong.
Max sucked in a breath. “Molly, no,” he whispered.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Deputy Sheriff Bloom began, but Molly cut her off again.
“I’m going to the hospital,” Molly told her. “The news said the bodies had been taken there for an initial examination. Please meet me?”
The other woman sighed. “All right, Ms. Gilford. In my experience, it’s best if you don’t do this alone. Is there someone who can come with you? A friend who can meet you there, perhaps?”
Molly glanced at Max. “Yes,” she said, hoping he’d agree to accompany her.
“Very well,” said the Deputy Sheriff. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Thank you,” Molly said sincerely. In sixty minutes, this would all be cleared up.
She hung up and met Max’s worried gaze. “She’s going to meet me at the hospital morgue. Will you come with me?”
“You know I will,” he said quietly. “But do you really think this is the best idea? Once you see her body...” He trailed off, considering his words. “There are some things you can’t unsee, Molly. I don’t want you to remember your sister lying on a slab in the morgue.”
“I have to know,” she said. “I can’t accept that she’s gone, not without seeing for myself.”
He studied her for a moment, his green eyes so intense sh
e felt like he was trying to see into her soul. Let him look, she decided. She had nothing to hide.
Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can understand that.”
“Do you think...” She stopped talking as she realized the question was probably too silly to bother asking.
“Do I think what?” Max prompted in a low, gentle tone.
She took a deep breath, accepting the fact that she was about to look ridiculous. “Do you think we can bring Furbert, too?” Seeing a dead body wasn’t going to be pleasant. It would be nice to have the dog around to help take her mind off things when it was all over.
“He probably can’t come into the hospital with us, but he won’t mind waiting in the car.”
Molly nodded. “Let’s bring him, then. I’ll go get my keys.”
* * *
This is a bad idea.
Max walked next to Molly through the hospital parking lot, toward the main entrance of the building. Furbert was happy to stay in the car, and he’d made sure the windows were cracked so the air didn’t get too stuffy. It was still cold enough that the car wouldn’t overheat—in fact, Molly had thrown a few blankets into the back seat so the dog could burrow in if he got too cold.
Confident that his dog was cared for, Max was free to totally focus on Molly. Her reaction to her sister’s death bothered him. Denial was a common response to traumatic news, but she seemed to be taking it a bit far. The problem was, he didn’t know what to do about it. If he tried to force her to acknowledge the truth it would only hurt her. But he couldn’t stand by and watch her completely detach from reality.
Max hated for her to view her sister’s body—he’d seen his share of corpses while serving overseas, and it was a sight he’d never forgotten. He didn’t want Molly to have that image in her head for the rest of her life. But if that was what it was going to take for her to accept the fact that her sister was gone... Well, all he could do was support her as much as she would let him. Hopefully that would be enough.
Molly had been silent during the drive, and he hadn’t pressed her to speak. There was a fragility about her, a sense that she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. He admired her strength, but at the same time, he wanted to take her in his arms and pull her close. He didn’t know the right words for this situation, but he could show her with his body that she wasn’t alone.
But that would have to wait. They walked through the sliding glass doors into the hospital. An information desk was situated straight ahead. By unspoken agreement, they both headed for it. Just as they reached the counter, a woman walked up. She was carrying a folder close to her chest, but behind the file Max saw a gleam from the badge she wore on a chain around her neck.
“Ms. Gilford?”
At Molly’s nod, the woman held out her hand. “Deputy Sheriff Bloom.”
Molly shook her hand, then Max introduced himself. “Thank you for meeting me,” Molly said.
“Of course.” Deputy Sheriff Bloom gestured for them to walk with her. “Before we go to the morgue, do you mind if we talk for a few minutes? There’s a small office just down this hall we can use.”
“Okay.” Molly bit her lip. Max could tell she wasn’t crazy about the delay. One of the things he admired most about Molly was her determination—if she made up her mind to do something, she was going to see it through. That was why he’d agreed to accompany her here—he’d known she was going to come, one way or another. Better for her to have a friendly face present than to do this alone.
Just as she’d said, Deputy Sheriff Bloom led them into a small room. It held a round table with a few chairs scattered around it, but not much else.
Deputy Sheriff Bloom took a seat, and Max and Molly did the same. She placed the folder on the table in front of her.
“I understand you have some questions about the process we used to identify the body of your sister.” Her tone was no-nonsense, bordering on brusque. “I wanted to show you the evidence we have before you go downstairs.”
Molly swallowed hard, nodding. A candle of hope flickered to life in Max’s chest. If the deputy sheriff was doing what he thought she was, they might be able to convince Molly the police had gotten it right without ever visiting the morgue.
Deputy Sheriff Bloom opened the folder. “The first thing to note is that the body matches the overall physical characteristics of your sister. Her height, weight, approximate age. Her hair.” She slid a photograph across the table, and Max spied a tangle of brown curls, stretched out on a metal table alongside a ruler.
“The next thing we look for are scars or other identifying markers.” She slid another photo toward Molly, this one a picture of a tattoo. “We know from her social media accounts that your sister got a tattoo about six months ago.” Another photo joined the first; Sabrina grinning as she pointed to an identical tattoo on her arm.
Molly’s face turned pale. Max felt his heart crack for her. “How did you know to look at her social media?” she whispered. “What made you think to do that in the first place?”
Deputy Sheriff Bloom’s golden-brown eyes were kind as she looked at Molly. “We found her driver’s license in her pocket.” Another photo was slid across the table, proving the veracity of her words.
Molly let out a small moan at the sight. She reached out blindly, gripping Max’s arm. He scooted closer, leaning against her so she could feel his reassuring presence.
“But we got the final confirmation this morning,” Deputy Sheriff Bloom continued. “Just before we called your brother, the lab informed us the fingerprints of the body we found match those of your sister.”
Molly’s hand tightened around arm. “I see.” She exhaled with a shudder, her body seeming to deflate into the chair.
Deputy Sheriff Bloom was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, as if she were trying not to disturb Molly. “Would you still like to go to the morgue?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
Molly leaned against him, her head down as she stared at her hands. Max looked at Deputy Sheriff Bloom, who was watching Molly with sympathy in her eyes.
Thank you, he mouthed. He draped his arm around Molly’s shoulders, drawing her as close as their two chairs would allow.
Deputy Sheriff Bloom nodded in understanding. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions, Ms. Gilford? We’re trying to piece together your sister’s movements over the last few weeks, in the hopes of discovering when she met her killer.”
It was on the tip of Max’s tongue to ask if this could wait, but Molly straightened up and nodded. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try my best.”
“Thank you.” Deputy Sheriff Bloom gathered up the photographs and placed them back into her folder.
“How long...” Molly trailed off, then cleared her throat. “When did Sabrina die?”
“We’re not certain yet. Once we do a cursory exam of all the victims, we’re going to send them to the state facility in Denver for further testing. Based on our initial findings, though, we estimate she was killed about three weeks ago.”
Molly absorbed this information with a small nod. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Did she suffer?”
Max stiffened and shot a quick look at the deputy sheriff. No matter how her sister had died, there was only one answer Molly needed to hear right now.
“We think it was over quickly.”
Molly let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She shook herself. “I’m sorry. You said you had questions for me, but I’m the one who’s been doing all the asking.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve had a terrible shock. It’s only natural you want to know more about what happened.”
Molly dabbed at her eyes, nodding. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“I appreciate it.” Deputy Sheriff Bloom folde
d her hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell me about the last time you heard from your sister?”
“It was about a month ago,” Molly said slowly. “She texted me. Said she was going out with friends.”
“Did she seem normal?”
“As far as I could tell.” She reached for her bag, dug out her phone. “Here are her messages.” She tapped the screen, then slid the device across the table.
Max studied Molly’s face as Deputy Sheriff Bloom scrolled through the messages. The color was coming back to her skin, though her eyes had a haunted look about them that he thought might linger for a while. She was clearly trying to put on a brave face, even though this had to be the worst day of her life. Her courage reminded him of the men and women he’d served with, and a surge of emotions welled in his chest; pride in her strength, sympathy for her loss, worry for how she would cope in the long term. More than all that, though, was the desire to stand by her side as she moved forward.
His thoughts were interrupted by Deputy Sheriff Bloom passing the phone back to Molly. “Thank you for that,” she said. “Do you know if your sister had any enemies, anyone who might wish her harm?”
Molly frowned. “That sounds sinister.”
“I don’t mean to sound like she was living in a James Bond movie,” Deputy Sheriff Bloom said. “But maybe she had a nasty breakup? Or a coworker she butted heads with?”
Molly shook her head. “Not that I know of...she never mentioned anything like that.”
Deputy Sheriff Bloom nodded, as if she’d expected that answer. “If you remember anything she said, even in passing, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” She withdrew a card from her pocket and handed it to Molly. Then she stood, indicating she was done with her questions.
Max helped Molly to her feet. She stayed close to him, so he put his arm around her again. “Thanks for meeting with me,” Molly said. Twin spots of color appeared on her cheeks and she ducked her head. “I know I was being unreasonable earlier. Thank you for being so kind to me.”