by Sharon Sala
She stood before him, wide-eyed and motionless, her fingers pressed against the place on her lips where his mouth had been. The last thing he wanted was to leave.
“Jessie, honey…”
She blinked, and it broke the spell between them. Stunned by what she was feeling, and well aware that this kiss was as far as her dream would go, she slipped back into her usual prickly self.
“I told you, Stone, I’m not your honey. Not now, and if I was honest with myself, not ever. I’ve already been down that road with you once, but my coming back to Grand Springs doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to set myself up to be hurt again.”
He frowned. “I never meant to hurt you the first time.”
She turned away, refusing to give away any more of her emotions. Reluctantly, Stone let himself out the front door.
* * *
The phone was ringing as Stone opened his apartment door. He thought about letting his answering machine pick it up, then rejected the notion. But he knew when he ran to answer it that he was simply delaying the inevitable. He’d come home for one reason and one reason only, and now that he was here, he was afraid to see if Jessie had been right about his lost check.
“Hello.”
An all-too-familiar female voice grated against his nerves.
“Well, well. So you are still in the land of the living.”
Cursing himself for answering the call, he shifted the phone to his other ear. Talking to his ex-wife was the last thing he needed, especially now.
“Hello, Naomi. What’s the occasion?”
Her chuckle was familiar, but he couldn’t remember why he’d ever thought it sexy.
“Didn’t they tell you I called the other day?”
“Yes.”
When there was no other explanation forthcoming, Naomi chuckled again, only this time, with resigned understanding.
“So, you didn’t want to talk to me?”
“Didn’t have anything to say.”
She sighed. “Look, Stone. I’m sorry everything was so—”
Stone glanced toward his refrigerator. He had more on his mind than discussing the past with a woman who’d been unable to love him enough to accept who he was.
“Let it go, Naomi. I have. Hell, it’s been five, no, nearly six years since our divorce. We’re way past the apology stage. Why on earth are you calling now?”
She sighed and wondered a little about that herself. “I heard about the storm. It was all over the news. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Startled by her excuse, he had to laugh, and in doing so, freed himself from whatever uneasiness he’d felt in talking to her again.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said lightly. “We just lost a little power, not our minds.” And then he thought of Jessie and the smile slid off of his face.
“Okay, okay. Maybe there was another reason I called,” she said.
He tensed, fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what she said.
“And that was—?”
“I got married.”
The grin returned, but this time in full force. The end of alimony! He didn’t have to fake his delight.
“Hey! Congratulations!”
“Aren’t you curious as to whom it could be?”
His drawl was cutting, for the most part, ending her dramatics. “Naomi, I lost my curiosity and everything else pertaining to you when I signed the divorce decree. I hope that you’re happy as hell. Thanks for calling. I’m fine—in fact, I’m going to be six hundred dollars finer every month than I was before you called.”
The allusion to the end of his alimony payments didn’t sit well with the ex-Mrs. Richardson. Naomi slammed the phone down in his ear. Stone grinned to himself as he hung up the phone. Well, maybe this day isn’t so bad, after all. And then he remembered why he’d come home. There was no use putting it off any longer. He walked to the refrigerator and opened the door.
He knew before he picked up the cheese that Jessie had been right. Already he could see a corner of blue paper stuck to the back of the package. Cool air wafted against his face as he picked it up, and as he peeled off the check, he started to shake. The writing was blurred, like black, fuzzy tears, but all he could think was, My God, she was right!
He tossed the cheese back into the refrigerator and closed the door. For several long minutes he stared at the check before tearing it into pieces and dropping it into the trash. And then he looked up, uncertain what to do next.
A clock on the wall was ticking away the seconds of his life. Down the hall, he could hear a faint but steady drip. Even though he’d called the landlord twice about the problem, the shower still leaked. Those were facts. But Jessie was dealing in visions. He was a cop. Cops dealt with facts, not fantasies.
Yet the implications of finding the check, coupled with everything else she’d told him earlier, were too vast to absorb. He needed another opinion besides his own to validate what he was beginning to believe. But who could he talk to? Who did he know that would listen with an open mind, and not react with disbelief and disdain as Erik Chang had done?
A name, along with a face, suddenly popped into his mind. It was the face of a man who lived and worked in the real world, while his roots bound him to another. Stone glanced into the trash at what was left of his check, and then headed out the door.
* * *
The outer room of the Grand Springs Herald was packed with customers and complaints. Stone stepped aside to hold the door open for a woman who was carrying what was left of a wet, soggy paper. The look on her face said it all. A careless paperboy’s neglect was about to become the Herald’s problem.
Just past the front desk, reporters sat before their computers, pounding out stories in an effort to make deadlines. Stone started past the desk when a young woman stopped him.
“I’m sorry, but no one’s allowed past the front desk.”
He flashed his badge. “I need to talk to Rio Redtree. Is he here?”
Her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. If you’ll wait, I’ll get him for you.”
Moments later, a tall, dark man came through a doorway at the back of the room. When he saw Stone, a slow smile broke the somberness of his expression, and he hurried forward with an outstretched hand.
“What brings you to the world of ink?” Rio asked.
Stone glanced around, frowning slightly. “Is there someplace quiet where we can talk?”
Without questioning the need for privacy, Rio nodded. “Follow me.”
Sunlight caught them full in the face as they went out a side door and started down an alley toward the back of the building. Stone squinted against the glare, eyeing a cat that was digging through the garbage cans, then glanced at Rio, who seemed oblivious to their surroundings.
“Nice conference room,” he said.
Rio smiled and pointed.
Stone’s eyes widened as they came out of the alley and into a walled-in garden. He’d lived in Grand Springs nearly all of his life and he hadn’t known this was here.
“When did this happen?” Stone asked.
“Years ago,” Rio said. “It’s for the employees. It’s a real nice place to eat lunch or take a break.” He glanced at Stone and added, “And sometimes a good place to hide.”
Startled by Rio’s intuitive remark, Stone stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away, staring at the scene before him.
Trees abounded, their thick, verdant branches shading the decorative stones that formed a meandering path through the garden. Benches in varying shapes and sizes rested beneath the trees, beckoning the viewer to come.
“Walk with me,” Rio said, and led the way.
A cardinal flew across their path on the way for a drink at a nearby birdbath. High up in a tree, Stone could hear a squirrel scolding them for coming too close to his world. On the path beyond, in a wide patch of sunlight, a garden of flowers had burst into bloom, charming the butterflies and bees that dipped into
their nectar.
“It’s been a rough few days, hasn’t it?” Stone asked.
Rio nodded. Stone didn’t come to talk about the storm, so he saw no need in wasting words, and it would seem, neither did Stone. Yet Rio was surprised at Stone’s question when it came.
“Rio, have you ever worked with a psychic?”
It wasn’t what Rio had expected to hear, but being the man that he was, he took the change of subject with his usual Native American aplomb.
“Have you?”
Startled by the conversational ball Rio threw back in his court, Stone paused, and then grinned. “I asked first.”
Rio’s eyes twinkled, but he treated his answer with respect.
“No, but I’ve known those who have.”
“Do you believe them?”
“Believe whom? The people who worked with them, or the psychics themselves?” Rio asked.
“The psychics, or seers, whatever you choose to call them. People who see the future—or into the past. Do you believe in them?”
“Yes.”
Stone sighed. Rio’s brief but confident answer made it seem so easy.
“Okay, then let’s say…if someone you trusted told you something that was very difficult to believe, what would you do?”
“You’ve answered your own question,” Rio said. “If you already trust, then there would be no question of believing. Am I right?”
Stone didn’t answer. He couldn’t find a way to voice what he was feeling.
Rio glanced at his friend, and then motioned for him to sit.
“Look, Stone. You are my friend. Whatever you tell me now is between us. I give you my word it will not wind up in tomorrow’s edition.”
Stone had already known that, but it was hearing Rio say it that made him relax. He stared at a patch of sunlight on a nearby rock. The tone of his voice was low and steady as he continued.
“What would you say if I told you I know a woman who recently suffered a head injury and has begun having visions? Except for that change in her behavior, she’s healing fine. I’d like to think of her visions as flashes of insight, but I’d also be wrong.”
“Does she see into the past or into the future?”
Stone looked startled. He thought of Olivia—and of Brenda’s lost keys. He thought of a fire—and of a lost check stuck to a package of cheese.
“I don’t know, she just sees.”
Extreme curiosity sparked the darkness of Rio Redtree’s eyes, but he answered as truthfully as he knew how. “I believe that there are things in heaven and on earth that we will never understand.”
It was what Stone had been waiting to hear.
Rio glanced at his watch, then stood. “I’ve got to get back to work or I’ll miss my deadline. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m guessing you’ve told me all you’re going to. However, just remember, if something big breaks, I get the scoop, right?”
Stone grinned. “Ever the reporter.”
Rio’s eyes glittered, cat eyes of jet in a warm, brown face. “And you, my friend, are ever the cop.”
* * *
Stone entered the front doors of Vanderbilt Memorial with a mission. He strode up to the receptionist and flashed his badge once more.
“Would you please page Dr. Noah Howell? If he’s not in surgery, I need to see him immediately.”
A few minutes later, Stone looked up just as the elevator doors opened. Noah Howell emerged, his lab coat flapping around the back of his thighs as he came toward Stone with a frown on his face.
He shook Stone’s hand. “This better be good.”
“What’s up, Doc?” Stone said, and then grinned. “Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“Now that it’s out of your system, how about telling me why you’re here. Do we need to go to my office? It’s just down the hall.”
Stone glanced at his watch, then around the waiting area. It was virtually empty. “No, this will do.”
And then Stone took a deep breath, aware that he was about to open a huge can of worms.
“Is Olivia Stuart’s body still here in the morgue?”
The question seemed to catch Noah by surprise, but at least he knew the answer. “Why, yes, I suppose so. The funeral homes had no power, you know. Because we had the facilities and the room, we volunteered to keep the deceased here in our morgue until they were fully operational again.”
“Did you perform an autopsy?”
Noah frowned. “No. There was no reason. Olivia died of cardiac arrest right before my eyes, and when asked, her son, Hal, refused the request.” He gave Stone a considering glance. “It’s not unusual, you know. Families usually consider it a desecration of their loved ones’ bodies.”
Stone shifted his stance and lowered his voice. “During your examination of Olivia, did you, at any time, see anything that would indicate she’d died anything but a natural death?”
This time, Noah could not hide his surprise. “She had a heart attack, Stone. Both Amanda Jennings and I did all that we could to save her, but she died before our eyes.”
But Stone wouldn’t quit. “I need you to do me a favor. I want you to go to the morgue and take another look at Olivia Stuart’s body. I want you to look at the backs of her legs.”
“Exactly what would I be looking for?” Noah asked.
“If she’d been stabbed with a hypodermic needle, what would you find?”
“Probably some sort of bruising, and if it was a vicious wound, possibly a noticeable puncture or torn flesh, as well. But I assure you, there was nothing like that on her when they brought her in.”
“Did you look?”
Noah looked startled. “Well, not exactly, but—”
Stone took Noah by the arm. “Come on, Doc. Do me a favor. Just look.”
Noah rolled his eyes and then sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll look. But I don’t have all day. I have to be in surgery in less than an hour.”
“I’ll wait here,” Stone said.
“Like hell,” Noah said. “This is your party. Come see for yourself.”
Stone cursed beneath his breath. He hated morgues.
* * *
The air was refrigerator cold and smelled of formaldehyde, disinfectant and death. A pathologist sat at a nearby desk, staring into a microscope, while a series of instruments hummed and blinked beside him as they performed their functions.
“Hey, Dewitt, don’t bother to get up. We’re just passing through,” Noah said, and chuckled at his own bit of hospital wit.
Stone gave the odd man a nervous glance. The fewer who knew why they’d come, the better off he would be.
They passed through another set of doors, entering a room in which all the occupants resided behind numbered doors and slept an eternal sleep on cold, metal slabs.
Noah glanced at a chart, then moved toward door seventeen. He reached in and pulled Olivia Stuart’s corpse out of the drawer. The slab and the sheet-covered body slid into the conversation without a squeak.
Stone swallowed. He’d liked Olivia Stuart. She’d been a good woman and a damned good mayor. It seemed an invasion of her privacy to be doing this, but if there was the remotest chance in the world that Jessica had been right, it would be a travesty of justice to let someone get away with her murder.
Noah reached for the sheet.
“This is it, my friend. May the truth prevail.”
Chapter Five
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
There was little else Dr. Noah Howell could think to say about the small dark bruise he found on the back of Olivia Stuart’s leg.
Det. Stone Richardson forced himself to focus on the tiny portion of bruised flesh, and not on what was left of the woman she’d been.
“So, Doc, without an autopsy, give me a best-guess scenario. What do you think could have caused that bruise?”
Noah looked up at Stone in disbelief. He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then he looked back down, staring intently at the small
purple spot. Even through his surgical gloves, he could feel the cold morbidity of Olivia’s flesh. He shook his head and pulled the sheet back over her body.
“Without actual proof, it would be hard to—”
“Damn it, Doc, I asked for a guess, not a thesis.”
Noah looked up. “I’d probably guess it was a needle mark.”
Stone had been expecting him to say it, and yet when it came, he reeled backward in shock.
“Son of a bitch.”
Noah pushed the body back into the drawer, then shut the door. He shivered. “I’ll inform the coroner’s office and order an autopsy immediately.”
Stone stared at the wall of drawers. Olivia Stuart awaited her disbursement into the earth behind door seventeen. Knowing her as he had, he was certain her spirit was already in a better place, but what was left of her body deserved more than it was about to receive.
Did someone really kill the mayor just before she could attend her son’s wedding? Why else would she have a needle mark on the back of her leg? Damn.
“And I’ll handle it from my end,” he said, then turned toward the door without waiting to see if Noah followed. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
Only after they were in the elevator on their way up to ground level, did Stone speak again.
“I need a copy of the autopsy report on my desk within twenty-four hours.”
Noah shook his head. “No way. We’re so behind now that—”
Stone put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Listen, Doc, if what we suspect is true, someone already thinks they’ve gotten away with murder. I don’t want to wait a minute longer than necessary to start an investigation. Understand?”
Noah nodded, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll do what it takes to get the job done, even if I have to do it myself.”
The elevator doors opened and Stone stepped out. “Coming?”
Noah shook his head, pointing to the floors above. “I’m late for surgery as it is.”
Stone paused in the door of the elevator, bracing his hands against the doors to keep them from closing.
“Doc, I need you to do me one more favor.”