Disturbing the Dead

by Sandra Parshall

  Mary Lee drew a deep breath. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been wondering why you keep your mother’s house in Mason County, if you never visit.”

  “I’ll sell it someday, I suppose, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it yet. My mother loved it so much, because she grew up with so little.”

  He could accept that. Tom kept his parents’ property even though he’d be better off if he sold it and bought a smaller house closer to town. Owning land had been his father’s proudest achievement.

  “I’d like to go inside the house,” Tom said. “Does your lawyer in Mountainview have the keys?”

  Mary Lee frowned, but said, “I suppose that’ll be all right. I’ll make sure you get the keys.”

  “Thanks.” He wrote keys in his notebook. “That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll have more questions later on.”

  “Will you keep me up to date on what’s happening?”

  “I’ll let you know about any important developments.”

  “Thank you.” She almost smiled. “Your father was very good about calling me. Even after everybody else lost interest in trying to find my mother.”

  “You kept in touch with my father?”

  “He called me every few months, even if he didn’t have any news. The last time I heard from him was the week the court declared my mother legally dead. The same week he died.”

  Tom hadn’t known his father was talking to Pauline’s daughter regularly. But a cop staying in contact with a victim’s family wasn’t unusual while a case remained unsolved. Why did he feel so shaken by the thought? What did it matter?

  He stared down at his notebook, with its list of unanswered questions to follow up on. Without realizing he was doing it, he’d added one word to the end of the list: Dad?

  Chapter Seven

  Rachel rounded a curve and the Wild Mountain Rose Diner appeared through the rain and mist, an oblong wooden building crouched against a mountain. She hadn’t seen another structure for the last two miles. She approached uneasily, Tom’s words blaring in her head. Drug dealers, a possible killer—he’d made all of Rocky Branch District, and this little diner in particular, sound alien and dangerous.

  A strip of pavement in front served for parking. Trucks and cars had churned unplowed snow into filthy slush, and the rain that had started an hour before was washing the whole mess into a drainage ditch. Rachel pulled into one of the few remaining spots.

  Outside the diner’s door, a girl with long black hair huddled in the shelter of the overhanging roof. Rachel popped open her umbrella and jogged to the entrance. “Hi, are you Holly?”

  “I sure am. You Dr. Goddard?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I’m late. I had an emergency.” The girl wore a shabby brown coat with faded jeans and sneakers, but she was gorgeous, a flower blooming in a trash heap. What a smile, and those cornflower blue eyes were astonishing with her dark hair and olive complexion. Rachel shook rain off her umbrella and folded it. “Why didn’t you wait inside? You must be freezing.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind.” Holly cast a nervous glance at the door.

  “Let’s get out of the rain.”

  “Well, uh, maybe we oughta talk out here. So nobody’ll interrupt us, you know?”

  Why had she asked Rachel to come here if she didn’t want to take her inside? Maybe, Rachel thought, she should get this over with right now, let the girl down as gently as she could. Then Holly shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.

  “You need to warm up,” Rachel said. “Come on.” She pushed the door open and walked in, leaving Holly no choice but to follow.

  The odor of over-spiced chili hit Rachel in the face and made her throat close up with nausea. A haze of cigarette smoke burned her eyes and nose, and “Take This Job and Shove It” roared out of the jukebox at a volume that made her ears ring.

  Aside from the fat middle-aged woman behind the counter—Rose?—Rachel and Holly were the only females in the place. Heads turned as they passed a dozen men on stools. One called out, “Hey, Holly, ain’t you gonna introduce us to your friend?”

  Holly kept her chin high and her eyes straight ahead. Rachel tried to ignore the men, but they set off a twinge of fear inside her. They’d been drinking a while, if the number of empty beer bottles on the counter was an indication.

  Holly and Rachel slid into a booth in the rear corner, next to the plate glass window. As they wriggled free of their coats, the jukebox nearly drowned out Holly’s whisper. “Those guys’re all out of work, and they don’t have nothin’ better to do than hang out here and pester people.”

  “They don’t bother me,” Rachel lied. With the edge of one hand, she brushed crumbs into a small pile on the tabletop, then shoved them toward a patch of dried catsup. The general reek and dirty feel of the place reminded her of a restaurant in Mexico where she and Luke had eaten. Mice had run across their feet to get to the garbage can.

  The woman who’d been working behind the counter plodded over. An enormous green tent of a dress draped her short body from neck to ankles. Straight black hair, chopped off at ear level, emphasized puffy cheeks and protruding eyes. The image of a huge toad crossed Rachel’s mind, and she chided herself for the uncharitable comparison.

  “Hey, Rose,” Holly mumbled. She looked stiff with tension, as if she were waiting for something awful to happen.

  Rose turned slitted eyes on Rachel. “Ain’t seen you in here before.”

  “No. First time.” And the last. Every man in the place was staring at her. Strangers seldom ventured into the diner, she gathered, and when they did they weren’t welcome. She smiled at Rose, hoping to ingratiate herself, but the woman’s cold, flat eyes didn’t warm up.

  “Dr. Goddard,” Holly said, “you ought to try one of Rose’s chili cheeseburgers. That’s what I’m havin’. They’re out of this world.”

  If they were made with the stuff she was smelling, Rachel would give them a pass. And asking for a salad was probably pointless. “I’m really not hungry. Just coffee, please. Black.”

  From Rose’s sour expression, Rachel knew the woman correctly read criticism into her lack of appetite. “All right then.” Instead of leaving, Rose continued to examine Rachel suspiciously. “You a doctor?”

  “A veterinarian. I’m the new owner of Mountainview Animal Hospital.”

  “Hunh,” Rose grunted. She threw Holly a look that seemed freighted with meaning and walked off, her bulk rolling from leg to leg.

  Holly leaned an elbow on the table, propped her chin in her hand, and said, “You’ve got the most perfect job. You get to help animals, and you make a livin’ at it, too.” As she spoke, her gaze shifted toward the men at the counter.

  What on earth did Holly expect the men at the counter to do? Rachel told herself to relax, stay cool, but she felt the muscles in the back of her neck tightening. “Captain Bridger told me you’re very good with animals.”

  “Well, I guess I like animals a lot better’n people.” As soon as the words were out, Holly grimaced. “Grandma tells me I oughtn’t to say stuff like that. People’ll think I’m weird.”

  Rachel smiled. “I feel the same way most of the time. You always know where you stand with animals.”

  “That’s exactly right.” For a second Holly lost her watchful expression and regarded Rachel with the wonderment of someone who’d found a soulmate. “Grandma thinks so too, but she wouldn’t ever say it out loud. She fusses about her old dogs and cats like they’re babies.”

  “She must be happy you’re thinking about working in an animal hospital.”

  Holly’s face slammed shut like a door. When she spoke, her voice was so low Rachel barely heard. “I haven’t figured out how to tell her yet.”

  Rachel remembered the shrill, demanding voice that had ended their phone conversation. “Well. Tell me about yourself. You’re out of school, aren’t you? Did you graduate?”

>   “Yes, ma’am, last June.” Holly rushed on, “I’m a real hard worker, and I learn fast. I’ll do anything. I mean, if you decide to give me the job.”

  What a change she was from the sulky young applicants Rachel had interviewed during the past few months. “You’d have to hold animals when they’re being treated, walk the dogs, do some cleaning. I’m afraid the pay would only be minimum wage to start.”

  “Gosh, any kind of real pay sounds great to me. I just work for tips here. I’m lucky if I make twenty dollars a week.”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. Good grief. Hadn’t slavery been outlawed?

  Before Rachel could say anything, Rose returned, placed Holly’s meal on the table, then plopped a mug in front of Rachel with enough force to splatter coffee onto the table. Without a word, she turned and left.

  “Thanks a lot,” Rachel muttered, mopping up the spilled coffee with a paper napkin.

  Holly bit into the cheeseburger. Chili leaked onto her fingers, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stuffed two french fries into her mouth and gulped cola through a straw.

  Watching, bemused, Rachel recalled Tom’s warning about Holly’s lack of polish. The girl had plenty of enthusiasm, though, and Rachel would take that over social graces any day.

  The jukebox fell silent, and as if on cue, men rose from stools and shuffled toward the exit. When the door opened, a draft of cold air brushed the back of Rachel’s neck.

  She dared to look around, hoping the source of Holly’s uneasiness had departed. A handsome, long-limbed young man with black hair remained at the counter, deep in muted conversation with Rose. As they talked, both of them stared at Rachel and Holly. The man caught Rachel’s eye and flashed a wolfish grin.

  She snapped her head around. “Who is he?” she whispered to Holly.

  Holly answered quietly, “My cousin. Buddy Shackleford. His daddy and mine’s brothers. I didn’t think he’d be here this early. He must’ve come in to meet a…a customer.”

  Shackleford. Another member of the drug-dealing family. But Holly wasn’t a Shackleford. “I thought your last name was Turner.”

  “It is. My daddy never married my mama.” Blushing at this admission, Holly dragged a french fry through catsup and pushed the result into her mouth. She said while she chewed, “Captain Bridger’s lookin’ for my daddy. He worked for my Aunt Pauline. The police’ve always thought he killed her.”

  Oh, dear God. Holly’s father was Troy Shackleford. Did Tom know? Rachel didn’t believe his overdeveloped protective instincts would allow him to suggest that she hire the daughter of a murder suspect and drug boss. What was she going to do? She couldn’t walk out on Holly, tell her the job wasn’t available after all. The girl was sweet and eager to please, and she wanted the job so much.

  “Hey, ladies.”

  The voice made Rachel jump. Buddy Shackleford ambled to their booth and grinned down at them. “Holly, you gonna introduce me to your pretty friend?”

  Holly wiped chili from her hands with a paper napkin and didn’t acknowledge him. He slid into the booth beside her, bumped her hip and forced her to move over. “Holly’s downright rude, don’t you think?” he asked Rachel. “I’m Buddy. What’s your name?”

  His gaze crawled over her and left her feeling slimy. She would not surrender so much as a scrap of herself to him. “Mary,” she answered. She caught Holly’s surprised look and quick smile before they vanished behind an expressionless mask.

  Buddy chuckled, a nasty little sound. “Is that right? You got a last name?”

  “Smith.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And where’d you come from, Mary Smith?”

  “Somewhere else.”

  “Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” he said in a mocking singsong. “I got to look out for my little cousin, you know? What do you want with Holly?”

  “That’s between her and me.”

  “Leave us alone, Buddy!” Holly pleaded.

  He turned a murderous scowl on her. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth till I say you can open it again.”

  Holly scooted into the corner of the booth, arms wrapped around her waist, head lowered.

  Watching Holly cringe made Rachel want to hit him. This guy was in a league with Perry Nelson. Where did scum like that think they got the right to push other people around? “Look,” she said, her hands curling into fists on the table, “we’re not bothering you. And we didn’t invite you to sit down.”

  Cold eyes bored into her. “I’m gonna ask you one more time. What do you want with Holly?”

  “I’ve already answered you. That’s between her and me.”

  A long moment passed. Rachel held his stare. When Buddy spoke, his voice was soft. “Well, Mary Mary from somewhere else, I think you just wore out your welcome. You’re leavin’ now.” He slid from the booth and stood over her.

  Holly sat rigid, her eyes huge.

  Rachel looked up at him without wavering. “Holly and I haven’t finished our conversation.”

  Buddy leaned one hand on the table, one on the back of the booth, and brought his face within inches of Rachel’s. She got a blast of his beery breath when he said, “It’s finished.”

  Before she could answer, he grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the booth and onto her feet. “Get your hands off me!” she cried.

  He tossed her belongings at her and as she fumbled to catch her coat and purse, her umbrella clattered to the floor. Under his baleful gaze, she snatched it up and almost gave in to the impulse to bash him in the face with it. Only the sight of Holly, with both hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with terror, stopped her.

  Buddy gripped Rachel’s arm, spun her around and pushed. She tried to pull free, but he was bigger and stronger and he propelled her out the door. He shoved her into the rain, gave her one last malicious look, and stalked back inside.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she swore, dripping wet and furious that she’d let herself be manhandled, furious that he’d gotten the better of her, furious that a creepy thug and drug dealer like Buddy could decide what Holly did with her life. Feeling like an abject failure, she climbed into her Range Rover, slammed the door and locked it. Her shaking hand took forever to maneuver the key into the ignition.

  A knock on the window made her gasp. But Holly stood there, not Buddy. He was nowhere in sight.

  “Dr. Goddard, I’m sorry!” Holly called through the closed window. Rain plastered her black hair to her head and ran in rivulets down her cheeks and neck.

  Rachel lowered the window halfway.

  “I’m so sorry,” Holly said. “I’m not like him. Really I’m not.”

  “I can see that, Holly. What’s his problem? He doesn’t even know me.”

  “That’s just it. He don’t like strangers comin’ around.” Holly gripped the top of the window glass with both hands. “Dr. Goddard, all I want in the world is to get away from here. You callin’ me, it was like God answerin’ my prayers. Please give me a chance, I’m beggin’ you. Please let me work for you.”

  Rachel squeezed her eyes shut against sudden tears. Her head hurt. Her heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to whisk this girl away to a better life, free her from this dive and these people and everything they represented. But how could she make it work?

  “Listen,” she said. “I’ll check around and find a place for you to live in town. Then it won’t matter that you can’t drive.”

  Holly nodded, but murmured, “My grandma’s not gonna like that one bit.”

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No!” The word burst out loud and urgent. Holly shot a glance at the diner before she said, “No, ma’am, please don’t. I’ll handle it. When do you want me to start work?”

  “Whenever you’re ready and I’ve found a place for you to live.”

  With the rain pouring down on her, Holly chewed her lip, her forehead creased by doubt. Rachel knew exactly what the girl was feeling, the hope and
frustration swirling together, the fear that she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for what she wanted. Rachel had spent most of her own young adulthood trying not to let that mix of emotions paralyze her as she tried to assert herself against an iron-willed mother.

  “Look,” she said, digging in her shoulder bag for a memo pad and pen, “I’ll give you my numbers at work and at home. Call me when you’re ready. I’ll pick you up.”

  Holly nodded, her smile tentative, her eyes conveying more anxiety than excitement.

  Rachel was about to hand the scrap of paper to Holly when Buddy Shackleford opened the door of the diner and stepped out. “He’s watching,” Rachel said. “Don’t let him see you take this.” Out of his sight, she folded the paper into her palm. She placed her hand over Holly’s and they managed to transfer the note without exposing it.

  “Thank you,” Holly whispered. She hustled back to the diner.

  Buddy made an elaborate show of sweeping open the door for Holly, but he didn’t follow her. He strode to a black SUV nearby and climbed in. When Rachel started her Range Rover and backed out, he pulled onto the road behind her.

  Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. All those miles of lonely road before she reached Mountainview. Isolated stretches where he could do anything without being seen.

  Get hold of yourself, for pity’s sake. She was being ridiculous, letting her imagination run away with her. He was mad at her, yes, but why on earth would he want to hurt her, risk getting in trouble with the police?

  But she couldn’t relax because he stayed right behind her, close enough that even in the rain she could make out his face in her rearview mirror. What the hell did he want? Was he so damned macho that he couldn’t let a woman get away with talking back to him?

  She kept trying to reach 911 on her cell phone, although she knew she would sound absurd when she reported that a man was driving behind her. She didn’t get the chance, because the hills blocked the signal from the county’s only cell tower near Mountainview.

  Buddy was never more than a few yards behind her. When houses appeared along the road, widely spaced at first, then closely grouped to form neighborhoods, Rachel told herself she was safe now. The tension drained from her body and hot anger flooded back. She didn’t have a speck of doubt that she’d be doing the right thing if she rescued Holly from her bullying cousin and that grandmother who sounded like a jailer.