The Dead Chill

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The Dead Chill Page 21

by Linda Berry


  “Hmmm. Sure casts more guilt on Grisly. He could have ridden his horse over, done his grim deeds, and made a clean getaway. We need a good tracker out here.”

  “Maybe Tucker Longtooth knows someone,” Amanda said.

  “Give him a call.”

  The beam of a flashlight splintering between the trees caught their attention.

  “Looks like someone’s searching for us. Let’s head back.”

  One of the firemen from Jackson met them. “Fire’s out, Chief Becker. The M.E. is here looking for you.”

  Sidney thanked him and they walked into the clearing together. Amanda got on the phone to Tucker.

  The firemen were cleaning up and retracting their hoses and a few were milling inside the hollowed-out structure of the barn with flashlights, searching for Grisly’s remains.

  “Tucker is sending someone over by the name of Magic, Chief,” Amanda said. “I’ll wait for him down below.”

  “Good. When he arrives, you two are done here for the night. The fire inspectors will take over. Get your reports done. Darnell, get into Grisly’s laptop. We’ll meet at the station at nine o’clock sharp.”

  Sidney joined Dr. Linthrope and Stewart Wong who stood watching at a large opening where the entrance of the barn used to be. Half of the roof had caved in but parts of the four walls still clung to the towering skeletal structure. Burnt lumber and charred objects were strewn across the floor as though tossed by a hurricane.

  Working with axes, the firemen uncovered Grisly’s body within minutes and signaled to them. They trekked through rubble and sludge to reach the charred human figure lying on its back. The scene struck a chord in her memory. It had a grim familiarity to other burnt corpses she’d witnessed in the past, all victims of homicide. White bone gleamed through blackened flesh. Empty eye sockets stared. The teeth were bared in a lipless grin. All clothing was incinerated. The remaining tissue that hadn’t burned was essentially mummified. His rifle lay beside him, the stock burned half way through.

  Stewart bagged the rifle, and then got to work snapping shots from every angle, his flash producing bursts of light in the darkened dwelling. Wearing vinyl gloves, Dr. Linthrope crouched over the body and identified a bullet hole in the chest, then turned the corpse onto one side. His light beam searched the charred back, but no exit wound was visible. “The bullet must still be in there,” he said. He brushed some debris off both feet. The remains of a boot had melted into the right foot, but the left foot was bare, burned down to the bones. “Hmmm. Why is he only wearing one boot?”

  “The other melted?” Sidney asked.

  He shook his head and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Subjected to the same external conditions, both feet should be a match.”

  For several minutes the Captain and his men carefully sifted through the debris surrounding the corpse until they recovered the other burned boot, several feet from the body.

  “The investigators will do a more thorough search tomorrow to recover the rounds fired from the wardens guns,” the captain said. “We’ll get them to the lab.”

  “Good. Nothing more to be done here.” Dr. Linthrope stood, and with a nod, gave the men approval to seal the remains in a body bag, load it onto a gurney, and cart it to his van.

  Pulling off his gloves and replacing them with bulky, fur-lined mittens, the doctor walked with Sidney behind the gurney. “This is a first, Sidney. Two murders in three days. Reminds me why I left my job in the city.” Linthrope’s tone was gentle. He gazed at Sidney through wire-rimmed glasses with paternal fondness. They had come to deeply respect one another over her two-year tenure. Despite the evening’s grisly call to duty, the doctor’s quiet but efficient manner instilled confidence and trust. At seventy-one, he showed no hint of slowing down. His intellect was still scalpel-sharp, but his eminent retirement loomed on the horizon.

  “I hear you,” she said. “My hope for a quiet job in the country writing parking tickets didn’t pan out. With all the new development and strangers moving to town, this could someday be the new normal.”

  “Let’s hope not.” He turned to her and noticed her deep frown. “What’s niggling you?”

  An uneasy feeling had worked its way into her consciousness and refused to be ignored, like the resonance of a tuning fork. “It may be nothing, but why was Grisly only wearing one boot?”

  “Could be a simple explanation. Though I can’t think of one at the moment.”

  “Grisly wouldn’t be dumping gas out in the snow with only one boot on. He immediately engaged in a shootout with Harper. Why would he stop to take off a boot?” She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “I’ve been in homicide too long. My instincts are telling me something ain’t right.”

  “I trust your instincts.” He was silent for a moment. “You want an autopsy, don’t you?”

  “Sorry, Doc, but yeah, I do.”

  “I’ll do both postmortems tomorrow, starting with Grisly bright and early. Nikah Tamanos right after.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Sidney smiled her appreciation. It was a lot to ask of him.

  “Could have some interesting results for you.”

  “I hope so. We need a break.”

  Sidney said her goodbye and they parted ways. She climbed into her SUV and watched the men load the body into the van. When the van pulled out, Darnell’s truck, parked directly behind, became visible. The motor was running and Amanda and Darnell were sitting inside, keeping warm. Headlight beams flooded the road and a truck hitched to a horse trailer slowed and pulled in behind them. Magic had arrived. Bundled like an Eskimo, he got out and hiked to the back of the trailer. Amanda met him as he hustled out a quarter horse, saddled and ready to go.

  Good. Her junior officer had things under control. Sidney didn’t envy anyone being out in this weather tonight, which made her think of Granger. A long three hours had passed since he’d left with the small search party from the village. She checked her phone and sure enough, a text had come in twenty minutes earlier.

  We lost the trail. Can’t find a thing out here. We’ll probably be heading back.

  Sidney expelled her breath in a long, soundless sigh. The old woman and boy were still out there in the frozen wilderness. A lot of folks, including herself, would not sleep well tonight. She texted back: Keep me posted.

  A sudden wave of exhaustion overtook Sidney. A mountain of paper work waited at the station, but she didn’t have the mental capacity to face it tonight. She revved up the engine, cranked up the heater, and pulled onto the road. Halfway to town, her phone buzzed. It was David.

  “Hi, David,” she said softly, trying to transition from a hardened cop with vaulted emotions to the soft, resilient, utterly feminine woman she became in David’s presence.

  “How are you doing?”

  “It’s been a very long day.” Voice infused with fatigue. No energy to flirt. “I’m going to hit the sack like a bag of cement.”

  “Had dinner?”

  “Too tired to eat, unless it’s through an IV.”

  “Running on fumes, huh? Not good. You need to keep that gorgeous body of yours well nourished. Tell you what. I’m going to stop by with my famous melt-in-your-mouth lasagna. Still warm from the oven. I’m going to feed it to you like a baby, and then I’m going to massage you to sleep. No self-interest. No hidden agenda. Tonight, it’s all about you. Deal?”

  Tenderness for David warmed her. Sidney was an ace at keeping her state of mind invisible to others, but not to David. He disarmed her. He intuited what she felt when she didn’t know how to express it herself.

  “You there?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat, suddenly wanting to feel his strong arms holding her close. “I’m a mess. My hair and clothes smell like smoke.”

  “Smoke?” An edge of concern crept into his voice. “What happened?”

  “Huge barn fire.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “No. But under control for the moment.”

 
Silence. David didn’t press her. He finally said, “Come home safe.”

  “I will. See you in twenty minutes.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  SIDNEY ENTERED the house quietly through the laundry room that also served as a mudroom. Normally a welcoming committee of four cats assailed her, clinging like Velcro and mewing loudly. But tonight she was greeted by a row of thick coats hanging on pegs and an assortment of winter boots hugging the wall. She removed her heavy outerwear and boots, hung up her duty belt, and deposited her gun in the safe. The dining room was softly lit with candles, the table set for two. David was in the kitchen, humming over the counter with his back to her. Selena, no doubt, had retreated upstairs with the four fur balls to give them privacy.

  David was dressed in faded jeans, a forest green flannel shirt, and wool socks. She took a moment to admire his broad shoulders and narrow hips and imagine the smooth, lean muscles rippling beneath his clothing. “Smells good,” she said, entering.

  He turned and smiled in the relaxed, easy fashion that always had a calming effect on her. “Hey. The weary Amazon warrior returns. Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  David was two inches taller than Sidney’s own six feet. He pulled her close, his cheek against hers. He was warm, almost flushed. She knew this man intimately—every contour, every bone, every line radiating from his eyes. She knew him in bed. She loved his intelligence, his humor, his lack of ego, the ease she felt in his company.

  His hands wandered along her spine, pressing out the tension. “You’re tight. Tough day, huh.”

  She nodded, not wanting to think about anything except how good David felt. He lowered his head and kissed her. Slow. Sweet. Sexy. His lips felt soft, his chest hard against hers. The horror of the last two days, for the moment, evaporated.

  “I missed you to the point of distraction,” he said softly. “I couldn’t wait to hold you close.”

  His words thrilled her.

  “Let’s get you fed.” He pecked the tip of her nose, gently pulled away, and gestured to the dining room. “Sit.”

  She did. He brought in two plates laden with green salad and squares of lasagna, then poured her favorite Barolo into their wine glasses. He sat close, his knee touching hers beneath the table.

  Sidney dove in, eating a third of the lasagna before coming up for air and sipping the

  delicious wine. This was comfort food at its best.

  David ate slowly, watching her with amusement.

  She paused long enough to form two sentences. “Sorry, I’m eating like a bear. I’m starved, and addicted to your cooking.”

  He smiled. “Makes me feel appreciated.”

  “I’m addicted to you.” She leaned over and planted a warm kiss on his mouth. “What did you do without me today?”

  “Went to work.”

  David meant that figuratively. As a business, the Art Studio probably just broke even, but making a profit wasn’t David’s purpose. The purpose was to create a place for artists to congregate and share their passion, and for David to teach, which he thrived on.

  “I taught a couple of classes. And I started a new painting. A portrait.”

  “What motivated you to do that?” she asked, surprised. David never painted the human form. He was a gifted landscape artist, and his work commanded impressive prices from choice galleries and well-heeled patrons. His use of bright colors and the effects of light reflected his love for Impressionism.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Wanted to try something new. Get out of my comfort zone.”

  “Whose portrait?”

  “Yours.”

  She stopped eating and blushed with pleasure. “Really? What am I doing in the portrait?

  Not wearing a uniform, I hope.”

  He chuckled. “Actually, you’re nude.”

  “What?”

  “I’m painting you from memory,” he said with a wicked grin. “I have very good memories.”

  “I don’t want people to see me naked, David.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s for my eyes only. I’ll hang it in the bedroom.”

  “What if Dillon walks in? He’ll know we’re doing the hanky-panky.”

  “Hanky-panky? So that’s what we’re doing.” He laughed. “Wasn’t sure how to label our relationship.”

  Sidney waited, hoping he’d expand on the subject. She desperately wanted to know if they were in an exclusive relationship, or just friends with bennies. She felt uncomfortable bringing up the topic herself. If this was just a casual fling to David, she wasn’t prepared for that kind of massive letdown tonight. But David didn’t pursue the topic. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Don’t worry. Dillon won’t recognize you. You’re looking away, and your face is in shadow.”

  “In that case, you have my blessing. When’s the unveiling?”

  “I’ll let you know.” He sipped his wine and watched her for a moment over the rim of his glass, his brown eyes soft and mesmerizing. “Want to talk about your day?”

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe it would help.”

  She blew out a breath. “Where to start?” It was hard to believe that it was only yesterday afternoon that she had gotten the call about Nikah’s death while snuggling in bed with David. A mountain of crime had materialized since then. “Seems the whole county is going nuts. Two people killed, one seriously shot, animals poached, and a series of burglaries and sexual assaults at Two Creeks Village.” She sighed. “In addition, an old Indian woman, her great grandson, and a huge white wolf are out in the wilderness somewhere and a murderer may be following them.”

  David’s eyes grew wider as she spoke and he whistled under his breath. “Holy hell. That’s enough crime for a year. You couldn’t make this stuff up.”

  “No, you couldn’t.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m not sure that I am.” She felt her shoulders tense as the burden of her responsibilities weighed down on her again. “Somehow, all of these crimes are interconnected. If I can fit a few pieces together, the rest of the puzzle may fall into place. A lot revolves around the murder of a young Native American woman and a medallion and key to a safety deposit box that I found in her home.”

  “What was in the deposit box?”

  “A decorative key with the same design as the medallion.”

  David eyes brightened. As an art historian who studied symbology, his interest was piqued. “Do you have photos?”

  “I do. Maybe you’ll recognize the symbol.” She fished out her phone and scanned through her images, then passed him the phone.

  David’s eyebrows arched. “Of course. The Triskelion.” His gaze lifted to hers. “This ancient symbol is known as the “Spiral of Life.” He followed the circular curves of the symbol with an index finger. “These three spirals are interconnected with no open ends, creating one continuous line. As you can see, each spiral turns in the same direction. They represent balance, harmony and continual motion. The flow of life. The earth’s cycles and seasons.”

  “Where does it originate?”

  “That’s the interesting thing. It’s been found on different continents in different hemispheres. The most famous is Newgrange, in Ireland, a large circular mound with an inner stone passageway and chambers. It was built during the Neolithic period, making it older than Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids. This symbol is carved in the rock at the main entrance. Triskelions have also been found on artifacts in Columbia dating back to 300 to 1000 AD.”

  “On the other end of the planet.”

  “Correct.” David narrowed his eyes, closely studying one photo, then the other. “The craftsmanship of these two items is similar. I’d say made by the same artist. They appear to be very old, and may be quite valuable.”

  “Someone else obviously thinks so. That’s what spurred the break-ins and the beating of a man,” Sidney said. “Possibly even her murder.”

  “I could send these photos out to my contact, S
id. Antiquities experts. See if anything clicks.”

  “Would you?”

  “For you, doll, anything,” he said with a Bogart accent.

  Sidney smiled, pushed her plate aside, and drained her glass. “Thanks for bringing me dinner, David. It revived me. I believe I found the energy to shower. Want to stick around for a bit?”

  “Sure.” His eyes twinkled. “I’ll clean the kitchen.”

  “Nothing sexier than a man in an apron holding a sponge.”

  He grinned. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

  “Meet me upstairs in ten minutes,” she said. “First door on the right.”

  His grin widened.

  ***

  The hot water drilling her tired muscles felt rejuvenating, soothing away the stress of the day. Sidney stepped into the steaming bathroom, toweled dry, and slipped into her terry cloth robe. She brushed her teeth and moisturized, combed her damp hair, and padded into the hallway. The house was dark and quiet. No light shone under the door of her sister’s room at the other end of the hall, but dim light illuminated the doorway of her own bedroom.

  With an exquisite anticipation humming in her veins, Sidney entered and shut the door behind her. David was seated at her desk, thumbing through a book of native birds under the soft light of a knock-off Tiffany lamp. He looked too big for the small room she grew up in, which hadn’t changed since her high school days—same queen size bed, a small desk equipped with her laptop and printer, and a bookcase sagging under the weight of dozens of mystery novels. This was the first time she’d invited a man into her room since her senior year, and a silly shyness suddenly overtook her, as if her mother might suddenly march in and send David home with a few sharp words.

  She shook off the feeling and closed the space between them. He turned to her without getting up and smiled. “I can picture you in here as a child, Sidney, and as a teenager, growing into the beautiful woman you are today.” David stood and pulled her close. His gentle kisses deepened. His warm hands slipped inside her robe and caressed the contours of her hips and buttocks. Sidney breathed in his familiar smell of soap and sandalwood aftershave. He touched her nipples with the tips of his thumbs and felt the weight of her breasts in his palms. Sidney’s body made the shift towards him, to his body, and she felt his erection with an intense and sudden longing.

 

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