“Could you get Gable to call him to come get the body?”
The officer nodded. “I’ll call dispatch. He has a daughter who lives in Miami. He could be on vacation right now.”
Steve took in a breath. Maybe helping in this investigating was a mistake. He should just let them call in the state patrol and get back to fishing.
Yeah, right.
He glanced back at the dead woman on the stretcher and studied the belt more closely. It was a type of weight belt, no doubt to keep her from surfacing. Whoever killed this woman had clearly planned for her to stay hidden under Beaver Lake. Which meant the murder had probably been premeditated. She might never have been found if he hadn’t been fishing.
Somehow fate had brought him here for a reason.
“Doc’s in town. He’s on his way here,” the officer said.
Steve nodded, and then noted a police cruiser pulling up next to the ambulance. A tall, older gentleman got out of the car and headed toward them. On his way, he frowned at the officer standing next to Steve.
He thrust out his hand. “Sheriff Gable.”
Steve shook it. “Detective Morgan. I work homicide in Denver.”
“Hope you don’t mind but I ran a quick check on you. I have to tell you I was impressed with your service record. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. Wish it could have been under different circumstances.”
“Nice to meet you too, Sheriff. To fill you in, it looks like murder to me, by asphyxiation. She’s wearing a weight belt, which suggests that the person who killed her was hoping she was never found.”
“You don’t say. We haven’t had a murder in these parts in a long time. You think I should call in the state patrol or can we handle this ourselves?”
Steve was pleased he said the two could handle the case. “I think we should try and keep the murder as quiet as we can. We don’t want to scare everyone. Calling in state patrol would only cause panic.”
“I agree. Doc Leland can do all the forensics work, though we might need to send it off for analysis.”
“I have a solution for that. I have a cousin in National Security who has connections in Washington. Keeping this on the down-low could help us as well with finding the killer. If he’s a local, his knowing we found her might give him an advantage we don’t need him to have right now.”
• • •
Whitney wiped out the sink and sighed with relief. She’d finished cleaning the last of the cabins. Now she needed to gather her things and head back to the main lodge.
The man staying in the one she’d just finished had been so tidy, it hadn’t taken her long to clean, and after meeting him, she wasn’t all that surprised. She’d bet the little money she had in the bank that he had been taught to pick up after himself.
Outside, she locked the door and hiked toward the lodge. She had no idea if the man had talked to her employer yet or not, but she was anxious to find out what in the lake had him calling authorities.
Whitney climbed the steep trail with little energy to spare. By the time she reached the recreational center, she barely had enough strength to mount the stairs.
She prayed Kylie would sleep well that night or she didn’t know if she’d have the stamina to work for Deidre at the café in the morning.
Inside the lodge, she placed her supplies in the utility closet and went in search of the owner to see if he’d talked to the occupant of number four.
As she neared her boss’s office, she heard voices, one she recognized as the man’s she’d met earlier that day. Whitney debated if she should knock or listen at the door. The words “dead woman” extinguished her options, paralyzing her in place. The thing he and the officer had been looking at had been a body?
She gulped. Someone drowned in Beaver Lake? Or was there more to it? Whitney would never be able to look at the glistening water again without thinking about a body. She’d certainly never swim in it again. Just the thought sent a cold chill skittering down her spine.
“Ahmm,” a voiced cleared in front of her, while a wonderful, spicy clean scent inundated her senses.
Whitney looked up and found the occupant of cabin four standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed, his gaze intent.
Lovely. Not only did he look good, he smelled good.
“Are you always lurking about?”
His question instantly crushed the pleasant thought. The man acted as if she were following him or something.
“Hardly,” she said in a sharp tone. “I came to speak with Mason.”
With a sweeping gesture, he motioned for her to enter the office, and then left her staring after his retreating back.
What an arrogant ass. He may be good looking, and smell good, but he had the finesse of a caveman. So like the one who’d left her high and dry on her own to raise Kylie. Thank God she’d sworn off men since it seemed as if you could place her in a room filled with available men and she’d go for the worst every time.
Whitney shook the thought and entered her boss’s office, noting right away the pronounced lines around his eyes and mouth. He had to be upset about the news and Whitney could hardly blame him. If this got out, a drowning could destroy business. But how did you keep such a thing a secret? She didn’t think you could. This would undoubtedly spread like a wildfire throughout Marble.
“You okay?” she asked, nearing his desk.
Mason looked up. “Don’t tell anybody about this. The less people know, the less likely it’ll get around.”
“I won’t.” Whitney’s heart ached for him. She knew things weren’t going well financially for Mason and that this was the last thing he needed. Any cancellation could cost him the lodge and her, her job.
“Why don’t you run on home? I’ll see you in the morning. You’re working for Deidre right?”
Whitney nodded. “Yes. I’ll see you around six.”
He smiled and turned to stare out the window.
Whitney sighed and retraced her steps out of the building and walked to her car in the lodge’s parking area. On her way home, she’d pick up a few things at Wilson’s grocery and then spend the rest of the evening playing with her daughter. Hopefully, that would keep her mind off everything that had happened that day — especially the blond she planned to never cross paths with again if she could help it.
• • •
Steve entered the small café and made his way to a back booth. He and another man were the only patrons in the restaurant at seven thirty in the morning. In a way he could understand; the café’s location had to be out of the way for most Marble residents.
He slid into the padded seat and picked the menu off the table.
He heard a woman’s laugh and turned to see where it came from. Coming out of a swinging door from behind the counter, a plate of steaming food in her hand was the dark-haired beauty who’d given him the stink eye the day before. Today her green eyes looked less weary and her cheeks much more rosy. The smile on her face changed her appearance completely. Instead of being just pretty, it transformed her into a stunning beauty even in a simple white tee and black slacks. The green apron around her waist emphasized how tiny she was.
But why was she working at the café? Hadn’t she told him she did housekeeping for the lodge?
She placed the plate down in front of the other man at the end of the counter and headed his way. Her step faltered when she recognized him.
Steve gave her his best Colgate grin.
She returned the gesture with a smile that hardly seemed friendly. “Would you like coffee?”
“Yes, that’d be great. Thanks.”
As she walked back to the counter to get the coffeepot, Steve’s gaze inadvertently connected with the gentle sway of her hips. One thing he couldn’t deny, she had a nice rear-end. Too bad she had a surly attitude and Steve ha
d enough of that with his job.
She returned with the pot and filled his cup. Then she placed the carafe atop the table and removed a pad and pen from her apron. “Have you decided yet what you’d like for breakfast?”
“I’ll have the steak and eggs.”
She scribbled down his order. “Okay, and how would you like those cooked?”
Steve found himself caught up in the hue of her incredible eyes. They weren’t quite the color of a sprig of mint, yet not as deep green as a multi-faceted emerald — somewhere in between the two.
“Over easy on the eggs and medium well on the steak.” He forced his attention back to the menu. It seemed much safer.
“Would you like hash browns or home fries with that?”
He turned back. “I don’t know. What do you recommend?”
Her eyes widened slightly at his question. “My daughter loves their home fries.”
“Your daughter?” Steve’s gaze flew to her left hand. No wedding ring. Was she divorced?
“Yes. I have a three-year-old.”
Steve’s cousin Flint had a child that age. Kids were fun to be around, but he’d probably never have any of his own because of his physical problems since the shooting.
“I’ll go with the home fries then.”
“All right.”
She left and Steve sipped his coffee. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who it was.
He shook the thought and took another swallow of coffee. He had to hurry and eat breakfast, and then drive to Dr. Leland’s to see what he’d been able to learn about the dead woman. He, the doctor, and Sheriff Gable and his deputy were the only ones privy so far to the fact that she’d been murdered, easily done since the paramedics on the scene hadn’t gotten close enough to observe the purplish marks around her neck. Steve had made sure she was covered with a sheet once he’d looked her over thoroughly.
It also helped that the doc had a makeshift morgue in his basement because his services were rarely needed.
Everything about Steve and the sheriff’s plan had worked. His cousin Flint would arrive sometime today and any forensics that needed to be sent for analysis would go through his agency after being signed off by the sheriff. They would do things strictly by the book so as to not cause trouble later if and when the case went to trial.
A wonderful aroma and a plate being placed in front of him brought him back to the present.
“Do you need anything else,” she asked refilling his cup before he had a chance to ask.
He glanced at his plate, then to her. “No, this looks great.”
When she didn’t leave, Steve shifted on the seat.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Steve looked up at her and notice deep lines on her forehead. “Sure.”
“Did that woman drown?”
Great. Now he was going to have to lie. Better yet, he’d evade the question. “We won’t know anything until the coroner releases his findings.”
“Right, but did it look like a drowning?”
What the hell? Why was she asking him this? Was she scared for her own safety? Had a sense of alarm started already? How was he going to dispel it before it got out of control?
Steve shrugged. “I don’t know.” He had to lie. It was better for her not to know the truth — less chance of it getting out and causing full-blown panic in Marble.
“Do you know who she is yet? Or how old she was?”
He shook his head. This conversation was doing neither of them any good.
Steve picked up his fork, sliced off a piece of egg and speared it. Hopefully she’d get the hint and let him eat.
She didn’t. Instead, she stared him down, the intensity of her gaze causing sweat to trickle between his shoulder blades. The toughest criminals couldn’t penetrate his hard exterior, and yet this woman had unnerved him in a matter of seconds. That alone signaled something to Steve — that it was best to stay out of the café and clean his own cabin from now on.
Chapter Three
“So, what do you think?” Steve asked the doctor as the older man draped a white cloth over the woman’s body.
“She died of asphyxiation. There were signs of bruising consistent with sexual assault as well, but I didn’t find any semen. Then again, the man could have failed to ejaculate or worn a condom.”
“Any other bruising?” Steve assumed if she struggled, there would be evidence of that.
Doc Leland lifted the sheet and rolled her arm over. On the back of the limb were ugly, purplish-black marks that were clearly made by someone with strong hands.
“She has some on her thighs as well. I’d say she tried hard to fight him off.”
“Any sign of that under her nails?”
The elderly doctor smiled. “I got a DNA sample there.”
“Great. I’ll have someone who’ll take that off your hands when he gets here this afternoon. Can you tell how long she’s been dead?”
Doc rubbed his chin. “I’d guess about two days — submerged in the water, a day less than that.”
“So she might not even be from around here?” Steve had hoped she was a local. It’d make identifying her a hell of a lot easier.
The doctor shrugged. “I’m just an old country doctor. You may be able to get a better determination on that from someone more qualified.”
Steve grinned. “I know all about your qualifications, Doc.”
Doc Leland adjusted the glasses on his nose. “That was ten years ago. With all the newfangled technology they have today, who knows what someone else could tell you?”
“I trust you, Doc. I think you know more than most. How about a rough estimate on her age?”
“Between twenty-five and thirty,” he said with no hesitation. “Now, I have a question for you, detective. Why all the secrecy? You know the local boys are ill-equipped to solve a murder like this. So why are you and Gable trying?”
“The sheriff might not be capable, but I am. I thought if we kept this hushed, it wouldn’t cause a panic in Marble. Sheriff Gable and I are both in agreement on this. We need to keep this quiet for now.” Steve had seen firsthand how a small town murder could cause hysteria. No way did the locals need that. Besides, giving the killer time to leave town, if indeed he was a local, was the last thing they needed.
The older man nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll be back later to collect that sample.”
“At my age, I ain’t going anywhere.”
Steve climbed the wooden steps from the basement and exited the doctor’s house. Hopefully by the time he drove back to Marble, Flint would’ve arrived in town. He needed to get that DNA off right away. It’d be pure luck if the strand got a hit, but maybe they’d catch a break in this case. In the meantime, he’d talk to the sheriff to see if they had any missing women from Marble or the surrounding area and go from there.
On the drive back to the lodge, his mind wandered to the young woman who’d entered his thoughts a time or two since breakfast. She had a little girl and it appeared as if she were raising her on her own. He gave her a lot of credit for that. It wasn’t easy. He’d watched his own mother struggle to give him a stable home, dying much too young, working two jobs to afford him a semi-normal life. Raising a child thirty-six years ago hadn’t been easy, especially as a single mother. Back then, people talked. Rumors spread. He could imagine how difficult she’d had it.
If she’d been around after his accident, she would’ve told him to buck it up and move on. That the woman’s death wasn’t his fault. That was the type of person she was, and he had tried to do just that, no thanks to his boss and that nagging feeling that he could have done more. That question would always haunt him, and had caused sleepless nights.
Why was his boss
being so hard on him for that? Why refuse to allow him back until he’s able to sleep through the night without the nightmares from the past waking him in a cold sweat? It made no sense. Homicide cops were used to working on little or no rest.
Steve took the Marble exit and drove straight down Main Street, taking note of the small storefronts as he passed. Later, he’d come back to talk with a few of the business owners, see if they could fill him in on any local dirt. Coming right out and asking questions might cause suspicion. Instead, he’d walk in as a patron and keep his eyes and ears open. He hoped he’d learn something that would help him find out who the dead woman was without causing carnage in the process. He had to keep his focus on the prize — catching a killer.
• • •
Whitney removed her apron and grabbed her purse from under the counter. Tips that day had been sparse but enough to pay for the takeout she’d ordered with the discount Mason gave employees.
Harold Huntley, the café’s cook, came out from the kitchen with a paper bag in his hand. “Here ya go, Whitney. Give Kylie a big hug for me, okay?”
Whitney took the sack and smiled. “I will, and thanks.”
As she walked around the counter to leave, a tall, dark-haired man she didn’t recognize entered the front door. Yet another handsome stranger. Where were they all coming from? Was there a televised fishing tournament in town she hadn’t heard about?
“Hello,” he said and smiled, showing off the brightest teeth she’d ever seen.
“Hi,” she choked out.
“Maybe you could help me.” The deep vibrato of his voice sent a tingle rocketing down her spine. “I’m looking for Detective Steve Morgan. He’s staying here at the lodge.”
Whitney was taken aback. The man occupying cabin four was a cop? “I believe he’s in the red cabin.”
A jingling above the door had her glancing around the man’s broad shoulders to see the subject of their conversation walking into the café.
Twice in one day. Not good odds considering she’d planned to avoid him completely. One thing she could say about the detective: he was a good tipper — the reason she could bring home supper for her and Kylie.
Watching Whitney Page 2