“Me, too.”
Carma didn’t let Harold take the lead this time when they reached the Marks’ trailer, which suited Harold just fine. This time they were dealing with a grieving mother. Mrs. Marks was going to need someone who was sensitive to the situation, but who was also strong and in control.
Carma stepped up to the entrance, opening the rusty screen door. She held open the old screen door and knocked on the thin aluminum door beyond it, then let the screen door squeak shut and stood back to wait. Unlike last time, there were no sketchy curious eyes from neighbors sitting on sagging porches, probably due to the early hour. Within a few minutes, a slender woman opened the door and peered at them through the screen. Carma studied the woman’s face for any sign of recognition, but there was none, not directly anyway. However there was a nagging feeling that she had seen her before. She was certain they wouldn’t have gone to school together. The woman staring back at her with red- rimmed, blurry eyes seemed much older than Carma, which was probably due to a mixture of grief and a hard life.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“Are you Mrs. Marks, the mother of Ronald Marks?” Carma asked her.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Detective Carma Jones, and this is my partner, Detective Harold Green. I spoke to you on the phone yesterday.”
“Oh yeah, right, I remember.”
“Mrs. Marks, can we come in and speak to you for a few minutes?”
“I reckon you can.”
She held open the old rusty screen door for them to enter, then followed behind them into the dark wood paneled living room. She stood beside the bar separating the living room and kitchen. She fumbled her hand around an icy whiskey glass, something not so smooth to take the edge off her pain and it didn’t take a detective to see that it was not her first that morning. Carma reminded herself that it was no normal situation, so it was quite acceptable for the grieving mother to have a hard drink at nine o’clock in the morning if it helped. As she sensed Carma’s stare, Mrs. Marks quickly removed her hand from the glass.
“It’s been a hard couple of days. Ya’ll can have a seat if you want,” Mrs. Marks said to them, nodding her head toward the old couch.
“I’m sure it has been. I’m sorry for your loss. I assure you we are doing everything we can to find out who did this,” Carma told her reassuringly.
“Thank you. I heard talk at the restaurant where I work that the girl’s funeral is tomorrow,” she said sadly and started to fumble with her glass again.
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“When can I bury my boy?”
“As soon as the investigation is over. I promise we are doing everything we can to hurry that along for you.”
Mrs. Marks went silent as she swirled the harsh liquid.
“Mrs. Marks . . .”
She flinched at the sound of her name. “Kate. My name is Kate.”
“Okay. Kate, had Ronald seemed sad or withdrawn lately?” Carma asked her.
“He’s been kinda distant since becoming a teenager. But that’s normal, right?”
“Yeah, it seems to be. But has he seemed even more distant lately?”
“I reckon he has been since that girl, Missy Cooley, died.”
“So they were friends?”
“I guess. He’s never come out and said it, but I think he has always had a bit of a crush on her.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
Kate thought about it for a minute before answering. “I… I don’t know. He has a couple of girls that are his friends, but honestly I don’t think any of them like boys. He’s never brought a girl home before and the only one he has ever talked about is Missy.”
“Had you ever noticed him having pictures of her?”
“Pictures? Why would he have pictures of her?”
“Kate, do you think it would be all right if we looked around his room?” Carma asked, ignoring her question.
“Why?” she asked, seeming a little more alert and suspicious.
“Just to get a sense of who he is. Who knows, maybe it’ll help give us a clue to what happened to him.”
“Oh, I guess that’ll be all right then,” she relented as that answer had seemed to appease her.
Kate led them down a long, narrow hallway past the kitchen. The wood paneled walls were covered in Ronald’s school pictures in various grades, all seeming so innocent and happy. She stared at the smiling faces as she walked through. In between some of the pictures there were a few cheap plaques with bible verses on them. Carma was surprised that she didn’t notice them the first time she came there.
“This is his room,” Kate said, pointing to a small room on the left. “I’ll leave ya’ll to it.”
Carma and Harold waited until Kate was out of sight, probably disappearing back to the divider bar to finish her drink, before they entered the small room.
Harold looked around at the minimal furniture, taking in the sight in front of him. There was a small twin-sized bed, a tall dresser, a nightstand and an old desk littered with papers and an ancient desk top computer. Harold whistled at the sight of the music posters covering all four walls of scary-looking people wearing all black clothes and dark makeup, even the guys in the groups. Harold had never been able to listen to that genre of music, but it had always intrigued him.
“Kid was into some hard stuff,” he said, examining the posters even more closely.
Carma followed his eyes and smiled. “What, you don’t like punk music?”
“I’d hardly call that stuff music. Can’t even understand what they’re saying. It’s just a whole bunch of screaming angry lyrics. There are kids like these all over New York. It’s just a front, you know. Most you come across are actually very intelligent, but very insecure. It’s a shame they feel the need to put on those masks to feel normal.” Harold peeled his eyes from the walls and looked back at Carma. “Where do you wanna start?”
“Hmm…” she said, looking around, too. “You any good with computers?”
He followed her eyes to the old desktop. “I guess we’ll find out just how good.”
“Okay. You jump on that dinosaur over there and I’ll snoop through Ronald’s stuff.”
Carma walked up to the dresser and began opening every dresser drawer, lifting clothes up one by one as she rummaged around. It was a part of the investigation she hated the most. People should have their privacy, even in death. She only prayed she wouldn’t find anything that would hurt or embarrass his parents.
Not finding anything, she stood up straight and looked around. The first thing that caught her eye was the small twin bed. She walked up to it and began to lift up the thin mattress.
“That’s dangerous,” Harold said quickly.
“Why is that?” she asked, quickly jerking her hand out from under the mattress causing it to fall back down.
“It’s common knowledge that boys tend to keep their magazines under their mattress, easy access and all.”
“Thanks for that disturbing image, but that’s why I want to take a look. If he was as obsessed as Kristen makes him seem, it isn’t such a stretch to think he didn’t hide those pictures of Missy under there, too. Lord, that’s all I hope I find.” She slowly lifted the mattress again, and let out a deep sigh of both disappointment and relief. “Nada!”
“That’s surprising. Kids must be getting craftier these days,” Harold said.
“Hmm…where else would he hide them?” Carma wondered out loud.
She opened the two small drawers on the nightstand, not really expecting to find anything, before turning to the tiny closet. She shifted a few sweatshirts on the top shelf, working from the top down. Moving two shoe boxes on the floor, she noticed one of the boxes didn’t feel quite right. She opened the box and stood up.
“I think I found something.”
She walked to the desk where Harold was still sitting and began to empty out the box, one letter, one card and one picture at a time.
“Looked like he has saved every memento his whole life.”
“Every kid does it,” Carma said as she shrugged.
“Did you have one, Carma?”
“Of course, but I have the tendency to burn my memories after they’ve run their course.”
“Dang, that’s cold,” Harold informed her.
“Not really. I just never saw the point of keeping them,” she told him nonchalantly. She changed her tone and began to tease him as she asked with a playful smile. “Why? Do you still have stuff from when you were younger?”
“I did have a similar box, but like you, my ex-wife found it and didn’t see the point for my keeping it, either. You girls are crazy!” he said as he shook his head.
Carma laughed and continued going through the box, finding nothing but what it was, a box of memories.
“Hey look, there are a couple of elementary school class pictures,” she said, holding up a third grade group photo. “Aww… look, there’s Melissa and Kristen. God, Kristen looked just like Mary. They were so cute, weren’t they? No Robert or Ronald, though,” she said, pointing to the little kids smiling so innocently. “Here’s another one, and look, there is Ronald right there, but none of the other kids.” Carma studied the picture harder. “Wait. If Ronald lives out here in Vandemere then he would have gone to Fred Anderson Elementary School. The picture of the girls is from the Arapahoe Charter School. That doesn’t make sense. How did he get this one of the girls?”
Harold stood up and leaned over her shoulder looking at the picture. “Is that Robert?” he asked, pointing to a small blond-haired kid.
She brought the picture closer to her face. “Wow, I think you’re right. So Ronald and Robert went to elementary school together and probably junior high, as well. Interesting.”
Carma put all of the stuff back in the box and shuffled through loose papers on the desk. “Any luck with the computer?”
“Nope, there’s nothing.”
“Where the hell are those pictures? I know he kept them. If not, why bother taking them?”
Carma took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under control. She stood in the middle of the room and looked over the small space again, this time trying to see the space through Ronald’s eyes.
“Well, the only other place to look is his school locker,” Harold said aloud, snapping Carma back to the present.
Carma turned to him. “Do you really think he would keep them at school?”
“Who knows? Kids are given so many rights and so much privacy these days. It’s worth a look.”
They left Ronald’s room the way they found it. When they walked back in to the living room, they found Mrs. Marks sitting on the couch with an empty glass sitting beside her on the end table, her eyes blurrier than they were when they first got there. They said a somber good-bye and left her to grieve in her own way.
“Everyone will probably be at Melissa’s funeral tomorrow. Maybe we should go there to find Mr. White,” Carma said as soon as they were in the privacy of her car.
“Do we have to? Can’t we find someone else to help us? Anyone else?” Harold begged.
“Sorry, but it is his school. We don’t need a warrant since it is public property, but we will need his help finding Ronald’s locker and code.”
“Fine. But just for the record, I protest talking to that douche bag again.”
“I know, I know.”
Chapter Fourteen
Carma rushed through the rest of her day and made it home with enough time to shower and get ready for her long awaited date with Mike, although bypassing the body-bag for the first time since the case started. She didn’t intend to stay at work so long considering it was Saturday and she had plans, but she was on a case, which meant she had to work anytime, any day, especially if new information came up.
Mike knocked on her door right at seven, just in time for her to finish applying a light layer of pink lipstick and slip on her signature four-inch black high heels. She opened the door in a breathless rush. Stunned, Mike stared at her. Carma had never been considered a girly dresser, not even when they were teenagers, but that was a long time ago, long before she became a woman with round curves on a lean frame. The only thing he ever saw her in at the Sheriff’s Department was her pantsuits, which worked to hide those curves. Looking at her now, he was quite confident that she could make an old beat up potato sack look sexy. She watched him look her up and down, his eyes smiling with approval, from her copper brown hair falling around her shoulders in loose waves, taking in her little black dress hugging all of her natural curves, down to her toned bare legs in her four-inch heels.
Carma watched Mike, feeling nervous, her previous smile fading away. She was used to men staring at her, but not Mike. She didn’t know how to take it.
“Is this okay?”
Mike averted his eyes to look at the panic etched in her face. “Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous.” But then he looked down at himself, feeling underdressed compared to her in his khaki pants and white polo shirt. Even his brown loafers seemed minimal compared to her.
“Oh, good. I thought I had overdone it, especially since I have no clue where we’re going,” she said, taking a relieved breath.
“No, you are perfect. I, on the other hand, feel very underdressed.”
“I think you look pretty perfect, too.”
His golden brown eyes sung with delight.
“Would you like to come in for a minute?”
He looked at his watch before responding. “Yeah, we have a few minutes.”
“Great, you can grab a beer if you want. I will be right back,” she said before darting back into her room. Her mama always said that it was always appropriate to not be ready when a man picked you up for a date, especially a first date, whether you’re actually finished getting ready or not. Sometimes the extra few minutes helped calm the nerves.
Carma looked around at the dimly lit restaurant in awe, loving the Italian atmosphere. She took a deep breath and got a good whiff of an assortment of all her favorite flavors coming from the now empty plate in front of her; garlic, marinara, bread, pasta, wine, things she would be willing to consume on a regular basis.
She turned to Mike and smiled. “This place is really nice. I’ve always wanted to see what it was like inside, but I’ve never had a chance to.”
“Have you ever considered becoming an architect?” he said laughing.
“No. Why?” she asked at his amusement.
“Because of your obvious love for old unique structures. I’ve never seen someone light up just to be in a beautiful building.”
She picked up her glass of red wine and smiled. “Guilty! I’ve always been like that. How can anyone not appreciate the beauty in them? Structures today aren’t what they used to be. I would be happy living in an old medieval house made of wood and stone anywhere in the world like those in Europe. Funny, I’ve never thought about it as a career, though. Might be an interesting change.”
“Well, you wouldn’t find anything like that around here.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she said, solemnly swirling the purplish red liquid in her glass.
Mike took the last sip of his wine and grabbed her hand across the table. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.”
Mike got up first and walked around the small table to pull her chair out for her, then looped his arm in hers and led her out of the heavenly restaurant.
They fell into a comfortable silence as they drove back to her river front cottage in Reelsboro.
He held her hand as he walked her to the front door. “I had fun tonight.”
“So did I. Thank you for taking me out.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Feeling nervous, they fell into an awkward silence. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she finally asked.
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
She opened the door and led them into the kitchen. “What's your poison? I have beer, wine and a bottle o
f cheap vodka.”
“I’ll just take a beer.”
“Good. Me, too,” she said, handing him the icy cold beer. “It’s such a nice night. Do you want to go sit out back?”
He moved his hand, gesturing for her to lead the way.
“It is so beautiful out here,” he said as he sat down beside her on the wicker loveseat.
“That it is. It’s a big reason why I bought the house. I sit out here almost every night and just watch the water. It’s so hypnotic.”
Mike looked around and noticed the outside shower for the first time, then looked back at her, somewhat confused. “Do you really use that?”
She looked over at the shower and laughed. “Yes. Actually, it is very freeing.”
“You shower outside in the open, with no clothes on?”
She nodded her head and smiled.
“But it's outside. Don’t you worry about people seeing you?”
“No, I don’t have any neighbors close by. I own five acres surrounding me, remember? The only onlookers would come from people on the water, but they all go home once the sun sets.”
“Nice.” Mike smiled and looked back at the water, then turned his gaze from the water back to Carma. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, but he was feeling so many different things stirring inside him as he watched her wavy copper brown hair glisten in the moonlight and blow in the light breeze. He reached over and grabbed a piece of hair that had attached itself to her long eyelashes and gently moved it back like he did the night before in that very spot.
“You have the most exquisite eyes.”
Carma looked over at him blushing, unable to respond through the burning lump in her throat. Taking her by surprise, he leaned over and softly pressed his lips to hers.
When he pulled back, he saw the emotions beaming out of her eyes. “Is that alright?”
She touched her lips with her fingertips. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve imagined what that would be like.”
Mike smiled. “It’s not like we’ve never kissed before, remember?”
Too Close to Home (The Forensic Files) Page 11