What We Found

by Kris Bock

  She nodded and kept me busy for the next few hours. By lunchtime my stomach was snarling. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch and didn’t want to deal with the hotel restaurant, but the break room had a vending machine.

  The conversation stopped when I entered the break room, and four sets of curious eyes gazed at me from around the table. A woman I only knew on sight watched me walk across the room. “The police are interviewing Jay right now! I had to tell them I saw him coming back from the direction of the woods after lunch.”

  I kept my back to them as I put coins into the vending machine. Had she seen us together? Had they found evidence at the scene?

  Someone else spoke. “You don’t really think he had anything to do with it?”

  “No.” She sounded disappointed. “That girl was into drugs, so I bet she got on the wrong side of her dealer.”

  “And who is that supposed to be?” someone asked.

  “If I knew, do you think I’d go around bad-mouthing him? I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  The mixed smells of clam chowder, microwaved burrito, and vinegary salad dressing churned my stomach, and I breathed shallowly through my mouth. The vending machine treats blurred together as a memory of the ditch filled my vision.

  Another woman said, “I heard she slept around a lot, maybe even did some prostitution. That’s dangerous business.” I glanced over my shoulder as the motherly-looking woman with white hair went on. “It could’ve been one of her johns. Or her pimp.” The words sounded funny coming out of her mouth.

  The youngest woman said, “What if it’s a serial killer?”

  “Here?”

  “Why not? You won’t catch me going into those woods again!”

  The one man in the group spoke up. “It’s only a serial killer if he kills more than once. This is the first murder here in two years, it said so in the paper.”

  “He could’ve killed people somewhere else!” the girl said. “He might be a traveling serial killer.”

  “Then he’s long gone,” the man said.

  “He could be staying here for a while.” She really wanted it to be a serial killer. It was almost funny. Almost.

  I stared at the choices in the vending machine without really seeing them. I knew it was just gossip, but what if one of them were right?

  The first woman spoke again. “It’s hard to believe it could be anyone in our town.” I thought I could feel her staring at my back. “But these things do happen. Aren’t most murders committed by somebody the victim knows?”

  I punched a button at random and a bag of pork rinds dropped down. I shoved in more coins and managed to find the button for granola bars. I scooped up my lunch and swung around, my gaze on the door.

  The first woman said, “Hey! You found it, right? You found the body.”

  I paused at the door. “Yes, I found her. I found Bethany Moore.”

  I headed for my office before they could ask more questions. Was that all you became after death? Fodder for gossip? Entertainment over lunch? The body? It?

  Not if I could help it. It was too late to save Bethany Moore, but I’d do everything in my power to see her killer brought to justice.

  Chapter 9

  I turned into my office, lost in thought, and almost bumped into the tall detective who had interviewed me the night before. He grabbed my arm to steady me. “Ms. Needham, how are you?”

  I made myself look him in the eyes. “Fine.” What did he want? What did he know?

  “I’d like to go over your story again. Is now a good time?”

  What had Jay told him? I needed to know that before I said anything else. I needed to see him. “No. I have something I have to do for a few minutes. Can you come by my office in about half an hour?”

  “That would be fine. Maybe we’ll grab some lunch while we wait.”

  We? Only then did I notice the second detective, leaning against the windowsill. I twitched, a slight movement but surely noticeable to the man whose hand was still on my arm. I forced a pleasant smile. “The restaurant here is very good.”

  “Is that why you’re eating pork rinds for lunch?”

  I would have sworn his eyes had been on my face the whole time, never glancing down toward my hand hanging at my side. I tried to think of a joking comment, but the moment for a natural response passed. I shrugged. “I’ll see you in a little while.” I edged past him, around my desk, and picked up the phone. I held it to my ear as they left the room.

  I didn’t want to call Jay. As much as I dreaded seeing him in person, I didn’t think I could be convincing on the phone.

  I gave them a minute, then peeked into the hallway. No one in sight. But what if they were hiding to spy on me if I left? I should have pretended I needed to go somewhere, rather than pretending I needed to make a phone call. It’s a good thing I had never dreamed of being a master criminal, since I obviously wasn’t cut out for it.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. I was over-thinking everything. Even if Jay had told the truth already, the police didn’t have any reason to suspect me of involvement in the murder. And they probably had better ways to keep track of people than lurking in the hallways. A phone tap, maybe. All the more reason to see Jay in person.

  I hurried down the hallway, trying to look as if I had an important appointment or something. What did that look like, anyway? I didn’t know how to act natural anymore. It would be suspicious to glance around, showing I was worried about being watched. I kept my gaze ahead and frowned thoughtfully.

  I took the back exit and walked alongside the golf course to the greenhouse, trying not to glance across the fairway to the woods. I paused with my hand on the greenhouse door and closed my eyes. I was already trembling slightly from nerves. I was hardly ready to confront someone I found intimidating at the best of times. But what choice did I have?

  I would give Jay one last chance to come clean on his own, if he hadn’t already. And then….

  I wouldn’t think about then. Surely he had to understand by now how important the truth was, and how risky it was to keep pretending. Probably he had already told the truth when the police confronted him. I was just confirming, and getting permission to do the same.

  I nodded once and pushed through the door.

  A voice broke off as I entered. “We can’t, now that they’re—”

  I blinked, adjusting to the dimmer, greener light as I breathed in the musty scent of damp earth and growing things. Jay and the other groundskeeper—Roberto? No, Rodrigo—turned toward me from the other side of a long table filled with young shrubs.

  I tried to ignore the scowls. “Jay. I need to talk with you.”

  He stared for a moment, then jerked his head toward his office. I trailed after him, eyes down and hands fisted at my sides. He didn’t look like someone who had come to terms with an unpleasant situation.

  He stomped into the office, turned, and leaned against the desk with his arms folded. I shut the door and stood just inside it. My shallow breathing seemed to echo in the small room as I glanced around, looking anywhere but at Jay.

  He didn’t speak, just stared. I rubbed my lips together, swallowed a couple of times, and finally forced words out. “I heard the police interviewed you.”

  He snorted. “You’re damn right they did. Thanks to you.”

  I finally looked at him. “I didn’t say anything about you!”

  “Yeah, well, no thanks for that favor. People saw us together.” He kicked at his chair. “The cops saved that bit of information until after I’d sworn I hadn’t been near you or the woods all day.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s a little late for that now.”

  I leaned against the door and forced myself to breathe. I couldn’t back down now. “That’s right. They know so much, we might as well tell the truth. It will be easier that way.”

  He pushed off the desk, took two steps, and loomed over me. “Easier for who?”

  He smelled of breath
mints, cigarettes, and dirt. Dirt where living things decayed and new life grew. “Easier for Bethany Moore. Easier for the police to find her killer. Don’t you want that?”

  He hesitated, and then jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “Sure. I hope they find the guy who did that.” His face scrunched in disgust, and I realized he must have the image of her body seared in his mind as well. “The dude who did that ought to be put away. But it has nothing to do with me. I don’t want the police poking in my business.”

  I braced myself against the door and met his gaze. My voice trembled, but I got the words out. “They’re in your business already. I’m going to tell the truth. You’ll be better off if you do the same.”

  He slammed a hand against the door beside my head. “I can make your life miserable.”

  I turned my face away. It took all my effort to whisper. “You think it isn’t already?”

  We stayed frozen like that for half a minute. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face, just inches from mine. I felt his breath on my cheek and wished I didn’t have to breathe the same air.

  Finally he dropped his arm and backed up a step. “Come on. You’ve already lied to the police. You don’t want to change your story now.” His tone was wheedling. I pressed against the door and watched him warily. I didn’t trust this mood any more than the last one.

  “Just let it ride,” he coaxed. “No one can prove we were together. It doesn’t matter whether I was there or not. The police will find the killer, and everyone will forget about this.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it doesn’t matter.” I edged sideways and fumbled for the door handle. When I was partway through, I added, “But maybe it does. And if there’s any chance it will help the police find a killer, I’m telling the truth.”

  I pulled the door shut and scurried away as Jay’s curse rumbled behind me. Rodrigo was in the center aisle, fifteen feet away. He lunged toward me, but I darted to the next aisle and ran for the door. I didn’t know what Rodrigo wanted, probably to hold me so Jay could finish yelling at me, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out.

  I rushed outside, blinking against the bright sun. I kept glancing over my shoulder as I hurried toward the lodge, but no one came out after me. By the time I got to the bench alongside the building, I was shaking so hard I could barely walk. I grabbed for the bench and slumped into it.

  My heart stuttered in my chest. A thin film of sweat turned my forehead clammy. A drop ran down one temple but I couldn’t find the energy to brush it away.

  “You’re all right,” I whispered. “You did fine.” Katie had made me practice talking to men—any man—so I could get over my shyness and anxiety. A few years before, even small talk would have sent me into panic mode. At least this time, I had a good excuse for my nerves.

  I shifted to a more comfortable position on the bench and leaned back with my eyes closed. I should reward myself for getting through that. I hadn’t been to the ice cream parlor since I’d moved home. I’d get a waffle cone with caramel swirl and eat the whole thing where Mom couldn’t watch and criticize my diet.

  But not yet. First I had to get through the police interview and the rest of the day.

  I imagined telling the tall, good-looking officer that I’d lied to him. What would they do to me?

  If I could get through that, I might earn a whole hot fudge sundae.

  I’d stopped shaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up yet. I rubbed my fingers over my forehead and temple, trying to ease the lurking tension. In a minute, I’d face the police. I just needed to gear up for it.

  Thwack! A sound like a loud clap exploded near my head. I jumped and almost tumbled off the bench.

  I looked around wildly, but I didn’t see anyone within a hundred feet. What had made that sound? I looked up. Nothing. I glanced back over my shoulder.

  A fresh ding marred the stucco wall, about a foot from my head. And then I spotted the golf ball shining white against the green grass beside the bench.

  I pressed a hand to my chest. That had been close. I knew it wasn’t entirely safe to linger near a golf course, but this spot wasn’t in the danger zone, or they wouldn’t have put a bench there. Still, it was astonishing how far off track some shots went. And a golf ball to the head could do serious damage, even kill.

  I pushed myself up off the bench and scanned the course for the golfer responsible. He should have yelled, “Fore!” He should be hurrying to apologize. What kind of bozo doesn’t even apologize after nearly braining someone with a golf ball?

  I saw three men walking toward a distant tee. But they must have just finished putting, and anyway, they wouldn’t have been shooting in this direction. A golf cart was crossing the fairway a couple hundred yards distant, but they were heading in the wrong direction as well. Maybe they were fleeing, embarrassed by their close call.

  I looked back at the mark in the wall. It was a deep, round hole. That golf ball hadn’t hit at a glancing blow from down the fairway. It had hit almost straight on.

  I looked across the fairway. The ball had come from the direction of the woods. No one was over there. No one that I could see.

  My legs threatened to give out. But I didn’t sit again. I turned and ran for the lodge.

  Chapter 10

  I paused just inside the door to catch my breath and let my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Had that really happened? Was it an accident, random chance … or something worse? A threat. An attack.

  I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. How had my life turned into this?

  I pressed a hand to my forehead, imagining a golf ball flying at my face. Should I tell the police about this? Or would it sound paranoid, or pathetic, as if I was making up stories to prove I wasn’t involved?

  I needed time to think. But I must have already used up a good chunk of my half hour. I hadn’t even eaten, and despite my anxiety the ache in my belly told me if I didn’t get food soon, the trembling and waves of lightheadedness would only get worse.

  I hurried toward my office. If I could just get a few minutes to eat my granola bar and settle my nerves, I might make it through the afternoon.

  My office was already occupied. But not by the police.

  A man was seated behind my desk, shuffling through my papers. I blinked a couple of times before recognizing him as the general manager, one of several people who had interviewed me for the job. I stood with one hand on the door jamb, staring. What now?

  He looked up. “Miss Needham, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I couldn’t think of a response. Even a greeting seemed beyond my powers.

  He leaned back in my chair. “This is painful for me. I understand that you have been starting rumors about my son.”

  His son? Oh. Jay. Right, this was Mr. Preppard.

  I shook my head. “I haven’t said anything about your son.”

  “You’re new here. Maybe you don’t know how we do things. We try to be discreet.”

  “But—”

  “Finding that thing so close to resort property is bad enough. Bad for business.” He made a face. “The police asking questions. Our name associated with a murder. It’s distasteful. But I suppose it can’t be helped.”

  “It’s not like I—”

  “But I won’t have you involving my son.”

  “I didn’t… he… that is….” Finally he seemed inclined to let me finish a sentence, and I couldn’t get one out.

  He stood and came around the desk. He didn’t look much like Jay. More like an aging businessman with a potbelly and thinning hair. But like Jay, he stood too close. He smelled of stale grease and cigarettes. “Your job is on the line, Miss Needham. What you do outside of work is your business. But don’t involve the resort, or my son.”

  I could only stare as he brushed past me. I staggered the last few feet to my desk. Sitting in the chair where that man had just been made my skin crawl, but I didn’t trust myself to stay upright without help.

  I
sat staring at the door. Had my boss’s boss really just threatened me? Shut up or lose your job? Maybe Jay and his father had a lot more in common than appearances would lead one to believe.

  A sharp pain cramped my stomach. One thing at a time. I needed food.

  The bag of pork rinds sat on my desk, open and half empty. No wonder Mr. Preppard had a potbelly. I picked up the bag with two fingers and dropped it in the trash.

  Fortunately he hadn’t touched the granola bar. I washed it down with the half cup of cold coffee left over from that morning.

  My stomach still grumbled, but my nerves slowly settled. I leaned back and debated the next step. I was in a lot of trouble, no matter what I did. If I told the truth, the police might not believe me, especially if Jay refused to back my story. I’d have at least two enemies at the resort, Jay and his father. Assuming I managed to keep my job, they could make my life difficult.

  Despite what I’d told Jay, I knew my life wasn’t so bad that it couldn’t get a lot worse. This was the only place in town I wanted to work, the only place that paid well and had a good chance for advancement. If I lost my job among nasty rumors, I’d have trouble getting any job in town. For myself, I wouldn’t mind moving away. But I didn’t want to abandon Ricky.

  If I told the truth, I could lose my job. If I didn’t, the police might uncover the truth anyway, and I might face criminal charges. Either choice could ruin my life. I had to make the choice I could live with.

  Someone rapped on my open door. I looked up and the tall police officer smiled. “Ms. Needham, are you ready for us?”

  I guess there comes a time in every life where you have to make a choice, to back down or take a stand. I straightened my back. “I’m ready.”

  And I told them everything.

  Chapter 11

  By the time they left, I felt like a crepe paper streamer that got dragged around on the bottom of someone’s shoe at the end of a wedding. They had seemed to believe me, though the officer scolded me about how important it was for them to know everything, in order to investigate properly. Well, now they knew everything I knew. We’d gone over it at least three times. I forced myself to explain, as clearly as I could remember, exactly what Jay had said. No more protecting him. I mentioned the golf ball, but I didn’t make too big a deal of it. The tall officer said they’d take a look around the bench, but I doubted anything would come of it.