Body Over Troubled Waters

by Denise Swanson

  He took a small oblong box from the pocket of his sleep pants and handed it to her. Skye slid off the ribbon and opened the lid.

  Inside was a long silver chain with three charms. She looked closer and blinked back tears. Two were tiny duplicates of hers and Wally’s wedding rings, and the other was a disc with two sapphires—the twins’ birthstone.

  Skye flung her arms around his neck. They’d caught the killer and given Dr. Wraige the justice every living person deserved. Now was their time.

  As she kissed Wally’s face, she said, “Are you ready to mess up some rose petals?”

  “Anytime. Anyplace.” Wally swept the comforter from the bed. The petals fluttered to the floor like crimson rain drops. “All you have to do is ask.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Dead in the Water

  the first book in the Welcome Back to Scumble River series by Denise Swanson!

  Chapter 1

  “There’s a cyclone coming, Em.”

  —Uncle Henry

  School psychologist Skye Denison-Boyd woke with a start. She jerked upright, nearly falling out of the brown leather recliner, and her black cat, Bingo, hissed his displeasure. With a glare in her direction, the fuming feline settled back on what little lap Skye still had at nearly thirty-four weeks pregnant.

  Rain hammered against the glass of the sunroom windows and when lightning ripped open the darkness outside, the table lamp flickered. Skye had been reading the first book in a new mystery series set in a nearby college town, Bloomington-Normal, when she’d dozed off and awakened to a dark and stormy night. The cliché didn’t escape her notice.

  Skye shivered when the air conditioner suddenly kicked on and goose bumps popped up on her bare arms. Although it had been hot and muggy all day, the television meteorologists had promised that a cold front was headed their way. However, Scumble River was seventy-five miles south of the city and the Chicago weather forecasts were rarely accurate for her tiny corner of Illinois, so Skye wasn’t convinced that relief from the heat was on its way.

  When her stomach growled, she wrapped her arms around her huge baby belly and whispered, “Patience, sweet pea. Daddy’s not here yet.”

  Skye had been waiting for her husband, Wally, to get home so they could have supper together. Since their marriage eight months ago, she’d gotten used to eating later. But the more advanced her pregnancy, the harder it was to delay a meal. And now she was ravenous.

  Wally had called around four to say he would be late because the officer scheduled for the afternoon shift had, at the last minute, called in sick. As the chief of police, Wally needed to find a replacement for the guy before he could leave the station. The town’s population might be only a little over three thousand, but someone still had to be on duty at all times.

  What time was it? Skye glanced at her wrist, frowning when she discovered her trusty Timex was missing.

  Shoot! After her first day back at work after summer vacation, she’d been so warm and sticky that she’d stripped and showered as soon as she got home. The high school’s AC had been on the fritz and Skye’s office had felt like a sauna.

  Because her job included working with students at all three schools in the district, she could have moved over to one of the other buildings. But it was highly unlikely any of them would have been much better. Before she’d claimed the space, her offices at the elementary and junior high had both been storage closets. Even in the best of circumstances, those rooms were usually hot as heck or colder than Antarctica.

  Instead of seeking a cooler place to work, Skye had ignored her discomfort and spent the majority of her time getting her calendar set up for the rest of the year. She’d had her testing and counseling schedule mostly in place before she’d left for summer break, but there were always transfer students to accommodate.

  She had wasted a good half hour trying to figure out how to pronounce the name of one of the new girls. It was listed as Le-a, and initially, Skye had assumed it was pronounced Leah, but she hated to call the teen by the wrong name. It could be Lee-a, or Lay-a, or even Lei.

  Finally, Skye had just telephoned the student’s mom to ask, and she was really glad she’d made the call. The girl’s mother had explained that her daughter’s name was Leedasha. Evidently, the dash in Le-a wasn’t silent.

  Paying attention to details such as correctly pronouncing names was one of many tidbits Skye intended to pass on to her new intern, Piper Townsend. In fact, she’d hoped to use today, before the students started school, to familiarize the woman with her duties, but Piper had had car trouble and wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.

  The woman really should have been better prepared and moved to town over the weekend. Her lack of planning made Skye wonder if she’d hired the right applicant. Of course, there hadn’t been that many candidates to choose from. A ridiculously low stipend and the promise of a heavy caseload hadn’t exactly been enticing to the new grads.

  Plus, there was the fact that Skye would have six weeks at the most to help Piper get settled before going out on maternity leave. In theory, during Skye’s absence, a school psychologist from the Stanley County Special Education Cooperative would supervise the woman. In practice, Skye feared that even if it meant she had to guide the intern via telephone while cradling her newborn, she would end up with the brunt of the responsibility.

  At that disquieting thought, Skye bit her lip. She really hoped there wouldn’t be any crises until after she got used to being a mother. Coping with—

  Oomph! Everything below Skye’s waist tightened as if a giant fist had closed around her uterus. She dug her nails into the smooth leather armrest while she tried to breathe through the pain. The first time she’d felt the squeezing sensation, she’d panicked and called her ob-gyn, convinced she was going into labor.

  Dr. Johnson had reassured Skye that the baby wasn’t about to make an early appearance. Instead, she was experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions. And although uncomfortable, unless the contractions grew consistently longer, stronger, and closer together, everything was fine.

  Now, as she panted through the contraction, Skye gripped the wooden lever on the side of the recliner and pushed until the footrest lowered. Then, risking the wrath of Bingo, she picked up the cat, put him on the floor, and struggled out of the chair.

  She shoved her swollen feet into a pair of flip-flops and began to pace. Walking usually provided some relief from the Braxton-Hicks throbbing, but as Skye marched the length of the sunroom, the pain continued. Her doctor had warned her that dehydration could worsen the discomfort and she’d been sweating all day. Maybe water would help.

  Heading into the kitchen, Skye snagged a bottle of Dasani from the refrigerator and chugged it. As she drank, she checked the microwave clock. It was five thirty. She’d been asleep for more than an hour. Where was Wally?

  When the contractions eased, Skye glanced at the telephone hanging on the wall near the stove. The tiny light on the base glowed a steady red, indicating there was no voicemail. Pulling her cell out of her pocket, she saw she’d missed a text. Wally had sent a message at 4:55, saying he was having trouble finding someone to work.

  While Skye contemplated calling him for an update, she hurried to the hall bathroom. Along with all the other joys of her pregnancy, it seemed that the baby was nearly constantly kung fu fighting on Skye’s bladder and she always had to pee.

  She had just lowered herself onto the toilet when she heard tires crunching over the gravel of the driveway. She assumed it was Wally, but a few seconds later, the sound of two car doors slamming instead of one convinced her she was wrong.

  Darn! Why was it that the only time she ever got company was when she was in the bathroom? Of course, since she had been expecting, she had been spending a lot of time in there.

  Skye hastily finished her business, straightened her clothes, washed her hands, and hurried into th
e foyer. She reached for the dead bolt but jerked her hand back. Granted, they lived in a rural area near a small town, but Wally had drummed into her head the need for caution enough times to make Skye peer out the side window rather than fling open the door.

  She squinted through the pouring rain. Trudging toward the house were two people huddled under a neon-yellow umbrella. The halogen lamp attached to the garage didn’t illuminate the sidewalk and it was too dark to make out their faces.

  Flipping on the porch light, Skye frowned when she saw her visitors were Frannie Ryan and Justin Boward. What in the world were those two doing slogging up her sidewalk?

  Skye had become extremely close to the pair during their high school years, and after their graduation, that professional relationship had grown into a personal one. Normally, she would have been happy to see her friends, but the young couple should be at college, not on her front porch.

  Frannie and Justin both attended the University of Illinois, and the fall term had started last Monday. Before they’d left to drive down to Champaign, Skye had had breakfast with them. And as far as she knew, there was no good reason they’d be back in Scumble River so quickly. Something bad must have happened.

  Her pulse racing, Skye threw open the door and demanded, “Why are you here?”

  She winced as the words left her mouth. She sounded like her mother. It was a good thing Frannie and Justin were no longer her students, because that wasn’t a very empathetic greeting. But between the weather, her advanced pregnancy, and Wally’s absence, Skye was spooked.

  “Can we come in?” Justin asked, closing the umbrella and leaning it against the outside wall.

  “Sure.” Skye stepped aside. “Sorry. I’m just surprised to see you.”

  Justin allowed Frannie to enter first, then followed her into the foyer. At twenty years old, Justin seemed to have finally reached his full height of six feet two. And although he’d probably always have a slender build, his weight was finally catching up with his last growth spurt.

  Justin pushed his damp brown hair off his forehead and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe off his glasses. As he cleaned the lenses, his long-lashed brown eyes blinked, adjusting to the brightness inside the house.

  Skye smiled. Justin hadn’t been an attractive or socially comfortable teenager. But he was turning into a nice-looking young man who appeared finally to be comfortable in his own skin.

  “Let’s sit in the kitchen.” Skye started down the hallway, forcing herself to be patient. Frannie and Justin would tell her what was up in their own good time. “How about a soda or some tea?”

  “A Diet Coke would be great.” Frannie caught up to Skye and gave her a one-armed hug.

  Frannie was tall and solidly built. Skye had spent most of Frannie’s high school years trying to raise the young woman’s self-esteem. She’d attempted to help Frannie navigate a world dominated by media that insisted anything above a size four was huge. Unfortunately, much of that work had been undone during Frannie’s first semester at a Chicago university.

  After a couple of months of feeling like an outcast and missing home, Frannie had returned to Scumble River, completed her freshman and sophomore years at a local community college, and then transferred to U of I. Unlike her previous university experience, U of I’s journalism program was more concerned with a student’s abilities than her appearance or clothes. It had been just what Frannie needed and she’d thrived.

  Justin had also lived at home while getting his associate degree at the same local community college as his girlfriend. Being nine months younger than Frannie, this was his first year joining Frannie in Champaign.

  “Any chance of some chips with the pop?” Justin asked, dropping into a chair as if exhausted. “We haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “Sorry,” Skye said. “Not much in the way of snack food around here since the doctor gave me heck for gaining fifteen pounds almost overnight. Her exact words were: ‘Thou shalt not be bigger than thy refrigerator.’” She patted her gigantic belly and made a face. “I’ve got salsa chicken in the Crock-Pot for dinner and there’s plenty if you’d like some.”

  “That would be awesome.” Justin straightened and reached for the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table. “I’m starving.”

  Skye took two cans of Diet Coke from the fridge and handed them to Frannie, then reached back into the refrigerator and grabbed the Tupperware container with the Mexican rice. After spooning half into a covered Pyrex bowl, she popped it into the microwave and pressed the reheat button.

  Waiting for the side dish to get hot, Skye put plates, silverware, and napkins on the table. Although Justin had already devoured a pear and was gnawing at the core of an apple, Frannie was only chewing on her thumbnail and staring into space.

  When the microwave dinged, Frannie jumped, then shot a worried glance at Justin. Something was definitely up. Skye just hoped whatever the problem was, it was fixable.

  Justin dug into the chicken as if he were a squirrel and his plate of food was the last acorn on earth. Frannie never lifted her fork to her lips.

  Having decided she was too hungry to wait to eat with Wally, Skye helped herself to a serving of the casserole. After pouring herself a glass of milk, she took a seat across from Justin and Frannie.

  She waited to see if either of them would start the conversation, but when they both remained silent, Skye said, “Now tell me why you’re here and not at college.”

  “My parents weren’t answering their phone and I got worried,” Justin mumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

  Justin’s father was in constant pain due to degenerative arthritis of the spine and his mother suffered from a debilitating depression. Neither was able to hold down a job or handle the minutia of everyday life. Until Justin had left for school last week, he’d been the one to take care of those details.

  “Are they all right?” Skye asked, then took a bite of rice.

  “As good as they ever are.” Justin pushed away his empty dish. “They only have the one cell phone, no landline, and Mom forgot it was in her pocket and tossed it into the hamper.” He shrugged. “They don’t get many calls, so they didn’t miss it until we showed up.”

  “Luckily it was on and the battery wasn’t dead.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “We found it by calling the number and zeroing in on the ringing.”

  “That was clever,” Skye murmured. It didn’t explain why Justin and Frannie had come to her house, but at least it hadn’t been a true emergency. She tilted her head and asked, “So, Justin, your parents were otherwise fine?”

  “Yeah.” He paused and drained the can of Diet Coke. “But the thing is, I’ve been wondering for a while if I can leave them on their own.”

  “I see how that would be a concern.” Skye nodded. She hated that Justin might feel he needed to give up college to take care of his parents, but she understood his feelings.

  “You can’t just stay here and take care of them,” Frannie snapped. “You’re too good a writer to drop out of school and take a job at a factory.”

  “It would only be until Mom and Dad were able to get their act together.” Justin didn’t lift his eyes from the tabletop.

  “Which will be never.” Frannie’s brown eyes flashed. “They need to step up to the plate and be the adults for once. Yes, they both have issues. But they certainly should be able to handle their own lives and allow you to be able to follow your dreams.”

  Justin scowled and said, “I know that’s what you think, Frannie.” His lips thinned. Clearly, this was an argument they’d had before. “And yeah. I wish had a father like yours. Someone who cared enough about me to deal with his problems. But my parents aren’t ever going to be like him.”

  “Sorry, sweetie.” Frannie scooted her chair over, laid her cheek on her boyfriend’s shoulder, looked at Skye, and said, “Isn’t there some kind of assistance avai
lable to help people like Mr. and Mrs. Boward?”

  “Your parents receive social security disability benefits, don’t they?” Skye asked.

  Justin nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll call the co-op’s social worker and see if she can refer me to an agency that is able to provide a caregiver to check on them a few times a week.”

  Skye got up and made a note on the pad by the phone, then walked into the foyer, grabbed her appointment book from the tote sitting on the coatrack bench, and stuck the slip of paper inside it.

  When she got back to the kitchen, the table had been cleared, and Justin was lining up the fruit bowl, napkin holder, and salt and pepper shakers as if there were going to be an inspection.

  Frannie poked him and giggled. “You are so OCD.”

  “I’m not obsessively compulsive.” Justin grabbed her finger and kissed it. “I’m just super meticulous.”

  Justin turned to Skye and said, “It’s nearly seven, so we’d better hit the road. We both have early classes tomorrow.”

  Skye recoiled as a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen window, immediately followed by an explosion of thunder. “The storm seems to be getting worse.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Justin put his arm around Frannie.

  “Let me call Wally and see how the roads are.” Skye snatched the receiver from the base, then repeatedly poked the on button.

  “Something wrong?” Frannie wrinkled her brow.

  “There’s no dial tone.” Skye replaced the handset in the holder.

  “Try your cell,” Justin suggested.

  Skye took it from her pocket and blew out a frustrated breath. “No bars.”

  Frannie and Justin checked their cell phones with no better luck.

  “Shoot!” Now Skye really didn’t want them to leave. If the phones were all out, the rural roads between Scumble River and Champaign might be flooded.