BLINDED (Elkridge Series Book 1)

by Lyz Kelley

  Joey leaned closer, his hot breath on her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Mara, you’re okay. Take my arm,” he murmured. “Turn ten degrees to your left, then go straight.”

  The uneasy, squirrelly feeling in her stomach stopped circling. A gush of relief filled her, even while a flustered residual remained. Joey gave her time to gather what remained of her dignity and take a step forward.

  A kind of peace settled into place. A dreamy kind of place. A place where a woman could indulge in her fantasies of having a gorgeous hunk of a man like Joey Gaccione in her life.

  That morning she’d dreaded the thought of running errands. The hassle of getting both herself and Buddy ready, the challenge of getting from point A to B, and back.

  Then that weird guy who’d scared the crap out of her.

  However, the morning had blossomed into something ideal, even extraordinary—a day to record in her electronic diary.

  A day marked special, with a smiley face icon.

  Too bad there wouldn’t be more.

  Chapter Eight

  Mid-afternoon on Wednesday, Tony drove Mara and Kym to the Elkridge Cemetery. Located midway up the hill, opposite Lonely Ridge, the cemetery overlooked the valley below. Mara visited the peaceful space as often as she could find someone willing to drive her up the windy dirt road.

  Sliding down the icy path with one hand on Tony’s arm and the other wrapped around Buddy’s lead, she made her way to the wooden bridge. Kym, refusing to let Mara go to any funeral alone, followed closely behind. There were some perks to being BFFs since second grade. Kym knew her so well she could almost read her mind.

  When they crossed the weathered wooden planks, Mara drew a long breath. Left, up the path at a forty-five-degree angle for thirty-eight paces, a giant blue spruce stood sentinel. Directly up the hill from there, her mother, father, and sister were buried. She turned right and followed along the path with the rest of the crowd, but her mind had turned left, thinking of the snow covering her family’s burial plot.

  “The temperature’s dropping,” Kym said, zipping her jacket. “It’s going to snow again. If this cold snap keeps up, I’m going to shiver off my last five pounds.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re dieting.” The disbelief stumbled out of Mara’s mouth so quickly she almost choked. “You don’t have five pounds to lose. Why don’t you break the hand warmer I gave you? The packet should last a few hours.”

  “Please don’t tell me this service is going to last that long.” Kym continued to grumble about funerals, her weight, flat butt, and anything else she could complain about while they trudged up the hill.

  “You’re quiet.” Mara squeezed her brother’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Gina couldn’t get comfortable last night, and neither one of us got any sleep.”

  Mara accepted the statement, but assumed his thoughtful mood had nothing to do with lack of sleep. He didn’t like visiting the cemetery, but would accompany her out of a sense of obligation. Her brother didn’t believe their family was actually present, like she did, because he never saw the mangled bodies. He preferred to imagine they were on a road trip, having a great time. This place, as peaceful as it was, reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember.

  “Bill Mason was sweet to offer one of his tractors,” Mara said. “Otherwise I don’t think the ground crew could have dug a hole deep enough. The ground feels frozen solid.”

  “Do we have to talk?” Kym asked. “I’m huffing and puffing back here, climbing this hill. Can’t we just enjoy the stupid birds chirping?”

  Mara wanted to point out Kym was the one doing most of the talking, but she didn’t. Mara understood what Kym’s words didn’t convey. No one liked funerals. No one wanted to talk about them. Call it a celebration of life. Call it a memorial. Call the event whatever was appropriate, but at the end of the day, losing a loved one sucked.

  “Hold onto the back of my coat. Buddy and Tony will pull us both up the hill.”

  Tony snorted out a disgusted breath. “Maybe Buddy will help, but I’m no sled dog.”

  Mara laughed to herself while Kym snorted a similar response.

  A few minutes later, they located the Gaccione family plot, where several headstones already marked graves. During her high school ditch days, the cemetery was the only place parents and teachers didn’t think to look. Oddly, Mara always found the place comforting, a place to reflect and connect with complex emotions.

  She squeezed Tony’s arm to get his attention. “Do you see the buckets of roses?”

  “Yep, but I’m not sure the Gaccione’s ordered enough. We supplied three dozen white roses, but I bet there are more than forty people here. The memorial service was standing room only. You should be happy you had last minute orders to fill.”

  “You didn’t miss anything,” Kym interjected. “The service was nothing but a bunch of standing, sitting and kneeling, interspersed with praying and singing.”

  Mara cringed at Kym’s description of a traditional Catholic ceremony. “I bet the memorial service was beautiful.” She pictured Joey in a suit in the front pew with his parents. “Tony, don’t forget I promised Mrs. Gaccione we’d relocate the flower arrangements to the hospice center tomorrow.”

  “Got it covered. However, I doubt she’s thinking about flowers today.”

  “She better be thinking about losing weight,” Kym chimed in. “Look at all those headstones. I don’t think her fat butt is gonna fit.”

  “Kym!” Mara hissed, with a huff that was almost a laugh. Then she put her hand over her mouth to stop the giggles. The vibration in Tony’s body told her he, too, had trouble not laughing out loud. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “What? It’s the truth.”

  “She has a point,” Tony added. “Looking at the headstones, I bet the Gacciones are stacking the bodies. I wonder if they fight over who’s buried next to whom?”

  “Would you two stop?”

  Kym snorted. “If it were me, I think I’d prefer to be cremated. I wouldn’t want to deal with a mother who weighed as much as a cow lying on my chest for eternity.”

  “Oh. My. God. Would you just quit already? Show some respect.”

  “I’m showing my respect. I’m here, aren’t I? It’s better than I can say for Mr. Gaccione. He’s MIA, again.”

  “Give the man a break. He just lost his son,” Mara murmured, creating a reminder to spread blue flax, red fairy trumpets, and yellow lupine seeds over Sam’s grave. For the last six years, she had distributed seed and planted columbines in a variety of colors closer to the headstones of those Elkridge lost. The residents often thanked her, commenting on how much the flowers brightened and beautified the area. She rubbed a mitten under her cold nose. “I’m sure he’ll say his goodbyes in private.”

  “Maybe.” Kym sounded doubtful. “I wonder if he’ll be a little bit nicer now, and spend a bit more time with his grandkids.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes people can’t or are unwilling to change. Mr. Gaccione has always seemed like a mountain to me. Unmovable. However, if Sam’s death doesn’t make him reflect, I doubt anything will.”

  Her accident sure caused her to reflect. All the little things she used to stew over no longer seemed all that relevant.

  Father Sutton began the service, but she stood too far back and heard only bits and pieces. Her ability to hear the words didn’t matter. Closure for the family—that’s what counted. Besides, Tony and Kym’s constant fidgeting provided even more of a distraction. Thank goodness the service ended swiftly, because Mara could imagine that the dry humor building behind the dam wall was ready to burst from Kym and Tony’s mouths. When the crowd started to disperse, she leaned in. “Tony, can you take me to the bridge and then wait in the car? I’d like to visit Mom, Dad and Sarah for a few minutes.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? The path is pretty slippery.” Tony sounded genuinely supportive, even though his tone conveyed he’d rather be a thou
sand miles from this place.

  “No, I’m fine. Kym’s shivering so much her teeth are about to rattle out of her head. Warm up the car, and I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Give me the keys, and I’ll get the defrosting process started,” Kym said.

  The jingle of keys and the crunch of rock alerted Mara to the fact that her friend had taken off quick-time toward the car’s promised warmth. After several hundred steps, the terrain evened out and Mara felt the wood planks beneath her feet.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Tony asked.

  She wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.” She stepped back and patted his chest. “Now go. Take care of my friend, please.”

  Her brother groaned. He’d never liked Kym. They had a Seinfeld sort of relationship, always finding faults in each other, but she loved them both, warts and all.

  When Mara reached the blue spruce, she turned and headed up the hill, allowing Buddy to lead the way. After fifty feet or so, the dog stopped. She bent forward at the waist and reached until her hand touched the cold, engraved marble.

  “There you are,” she said, brushing a dusting of snow from the top. “Just came to say hi. Nothing much has changed. Gina is due any day. Tony still hasn’t gotten the nursery finished. And I’m still…”

  Still what?

  Blind? Lost? Figuring out how to adjust?

  While she was trying to put into words her state of mind, Buddy shifted at the same moment a twig snapped behind her. She straightened and froze, listening for the clues, trying to figure out what made the sound.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you or intrude on your private moment with your family,” the lower F-note baritone voice carried on the gentle, frosty breeze.

  Joey.

  “No worries. I just wanted to say hello to my family. Give everyone an update.” She turned several degrees toward him. “I find it peaceful here, if a bit chilly.”

  “I thought I was going to overheat at the memorial service this morning. It went on and on and on.”

  An unexpected bubble of humor escaped as she remembered Kym’s unglamorous description. “At least your family can start the healing process. Isn’t there a celebration party tonight?”

  “Yep. Ma’s headed over there now.”

  “That’s good. Celebrating will help later when the grief and memories take over.”

  The sound of shifting feet and crunching gravel made her aware Joey had become restless, and most likely didn’t want to talk about his brother’s passing. Like Tony, Joey hadn’t actually seen the blood and broken bodies, the absence of life. Both men had only witnessed a person dressed in their best, silently resting. Then again, if one of the last things she saw hadn’t been the bloodied bodies of her parents, maybe the image in her mind wouldn’t be so vivid. So real. So permanent.

  “Days like these are not easy. Is there anything I can do to help?” Mara asked.

  “Not unless you can sniff out a killer. I thought for sure, with all my training, I’d be able to identify someone of interest. But I got nothing. Not a look of guilt, or something out of character. I was so sure the killer would be in the crowd.”

  “I know you want to get back to Seattle. Like you said, maybe you are trying too hard to get closure.”

  “Are you going to stop by the restaurant?” Joey asked. “My sisters assure me there’s food enough for the whole county.”

  Mara shook her head as disappointment settled in her chest. “Tony needs to get home to Gina, and Kym has client appointments, so I must pass. I have some orders to prepare for delivery tomorrow.”

  “Maybe, I’ll stop by later to say hi.”

  A nervous excitement shimmied up her arms and nestled into her chest. “That would be nice, but your family needs you today. You should probably see if you can find your dad. I’m sure your mom is worried.”

  “He’s at Mad Jack’s warming a bar stool and doing his best to empty a couple of whisky bottles. As far as I’m concerned, he can stay there. The family doesn’t need to deal with his drunken anger today.”

  The raw ire oozing from his words didn’t need interpretation. “I’ll be around whenever you want to talk.”

  “Thanks. It’s nice having someone I can talk to.”

  That banana cream pie contentment again filled her with bliss. “I like your company, too.”

  There was that hesitation again. She waited. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

  “I was wondering if you were done here. The temperature seems to have dropped several degrees in the past few minutes, and the path is getting a bit slick. I was hoping you might allow me to accompany you to the parking lot, but I don’t want to rush you.”

  His heartfelt sentiment weakened her do-it-yourself willpower. She’d tried over and over and over again to convince herself she didn’t need anyone—that the status quo fulfilled her desires.

  Most days her willpower held strong as a brick wall. Some days it wobbled, but today the wall cracked straight down the middle and collapsed. The need to rely on others and her lack of complete independence stung. The reinforced realization poked at her vulnerabilities, triggering a feeling of instability she didn’t like.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.” But she wasn’t fine.

  He said nothing for the longest time, then his footsteps moved off into the distance.

  “Mom, Dad, Sis, take care. You have my love.”

  A small voice came whistling through the evergreens as Mara reached for Buddy’s halter.

  I didn’t hear you, she replied in her thoughts. Say it again.

  Crisp wind prickled her cheeks. She waited. Then the advice came again, like a soft whisper floating on the air. Allow yourself to trust.

  Trust. “Thanks for the suggestion, Dad, but that’s a tough one. It’s going to take time.”

  She often wondered whether the voices in her mind were from past conversations or if they truly were whispers from the other side. Either way, she recognized the advice. Her father had spoken to her often about having confidence in the choices she made, and trusting her gut. The image of sitting in his office, having one of many “intellectual discussions,” as he called them, warmed her heart. Too bad the memory didn’t also warm her almost-frozen fingers. “We better go, Buddy. People are waiting.”

  Halfway down the twenty-degree incline, she stopped. “I know you’re there. If you insist on making sure I don’t slide down this hill, you might as well lend me a hand.”

  Footsteps ascended the path, and a hot breath caressed her cheeks.

  “How about an arm?” Joey offered.

  How about a kiss? She blushed. “An arm it is, then.”

  Mara leaned closer, possibly to soak up some of his warmth. Joey liked the closeness, and wondered what her actions and body language might mean.

  All morning, Joey had surveyed the memorial and funeral service crowds and their body movements. He monitored for deception, perhaps a lack of eye contact, or nervous shifting, or an aggressive, wide-legged stance, any behavior to provide insight. In particular, he studied the mayor, the county officials, and the deputies, then prominent Elkridge citizens…anyone with something to lose. Not having a current baseline of facial expressions or body actions, he had to rely on his instincts.

  He found nothing.

  He hadn’t been able to derive anything conclusive from his observations, which was disappointing. Actually, it was beyond disappointing.

  He wanted closure.

  For him.

  For his family.

  Interrogating people during a funeral didn’t seem right. Besides, his mother could probably learn more in five minutes at the town’s beauty shop than he could after spending the whole day talking to the residents.

  So, he stood sentry behind his mother and sisters during the service, feeling helpless and disoriented, like a failure, until he saw Mara. Somehow seeing her made his world stop s
pinning.

  Joey took another step. She so easily fell into his rhythm.

  “Did you learn anything new going through the investigation files?” She rotated her head in his direction.

  Only that the files were full of spelling and grammatical errors, and were notably incomplete.

  He studied her open, inquisitive face so full of hope. “Not really. The case documentation leads me to believe the deputies considered the case clear-cut.”

  “Oh?” Her tone sagged. “I’m not surprised. Some people desperately want to believe the shooting was an accident. A poacher. It’s much harder to convince people there’s no danger when there’s been a murder just outside of town.”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  Her brows folded together. “Yes, better than most. When you lose one sense, people assume you’re deaf, dumb, and blind. Townspeople don’t share much with me, except for Kym, who does most of the talking. But because of my invisibility, I hear a lot of things I’m sure people wouldn’t want me to know.”

  People were so very ignorant in their perceptions. “I want to keep this under wraps…”

  “I understand.”

  “In one of the crime scene photos, I could see letters scraped into the ground. I enlarged the photos, and believe Sam tried to leave a message. There’s a J, an I, and an F, followed by either a B or P, I’m not sure which.”

  She squeezed his arm, and he could practically feel her attention sharpen. “Interesting. If there were only three letters, I would think initials, but with the fourth letter, I’m not so sure. If I had to guess, I’m thinking he ran out of time before he could finish.”

  “Or his message was damaged. Another picture shows a footprint butted against the letters. My guess is the first-responders didn’t see the letters until after they removed the body and had already stepped on the evidence. I’m assuming the J is for Joey.”

  “It seems logical. I can’t think of anyone in town with a name starting with ‘I,’ though.”

  Joey considered her grave face, and wanted to change the expression. “Nope. No Ian, Ida, or Ichabods running around.”