image
image
image

4

image

––––––––

image

MORNING CAME TOO EARLY when the newspaper smacked my screen door and just about scared me out of my skin. I’d slept on my sofa downstairs, hoping that a change of venue would help me fall into a deep sleep. I stumbled to the front door and opened it. A soft rosiness covered the morning and signaled that the sun would appear soon. I had experienced this softness many times after sleepless nights and stood still for a few minutes, enjoying it and hoping my neighbor Jennie would appear, but she didn’t.

I did have a visitor, though. I grabbed my paper just as Samson raced up my stairs, barking wildly as he danced around my legs. I was sure there were some people in Forman Falls who would be thrilled to see such a spectacle this early in the morning, but I was not one of them. Samson did another jig, raced across my porch, and then looked over his shoulder and yelped at me. He obviously wanted me to go with him somewhere. “To that old stinky palace? No, thanks, buddy boy. Not today.”

But he continued barking and giving me that come-hither dance. So, dressed in my ratty robe again, I followed him to Mr. Farnsberry’s home and discovered an older woman wrapped in a shawl, standing on his porch, looking bewildered and shaken.

“Hello, ma’am. Do you need some help?”

It was far too warm to wear a shawl in Texas in September, even this early in the morning, but the woman clutched it tightly near her throat and said, “My brother. Is he here?”

Uh. “Your brother? Herman Farnsberry?”

At his name, some of the confusion left her eyes, and she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She let go of her wrap, and one side slid over a bony shoulder and rested in the crook of her left arm. “Where is he?”

“Are you Miss Ingrid?” I smiled, trying not to look confused myself. He had left for Mapleton yesterday to visit her.

“Ingrid Atchison. I went back to my first husband’s name. He was my favorite. Have you seen Herman? It’s not like him not to come see me. Every Thursday, written in stone.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you want to go inside? Do you have a key?”

“Yes, dear, I do.” She fumbled in her purse for it.

I hoped that my motives were pure, that she needed help and I wanted to help her. I held out my hand for the key, a little giddy at the prospect of being able to snoop in Farnsberry’s house again with the permission of his sister.

As the key landed in my hand, a car pulled up behind me. Drat that Burke Maguire! And drat the neighbor who had called him!

As Burke topped the stairs to Farnsberry’s porch, his gaze flicked to my hand as it closed around the key, then he smiled at Miss Ingrid and said, “Ma’am.” Turning his attention back to me, he said, “Sophie, may I have a word with you?” His well-aimed I-know-what-you’re-up-to look was followed by my I’m-just-being-a-good-neighbor shrug.

“A moment, Officer. Let me help Miss Ingrid into her brother’s home.”

He looked at Miss Ingrid. “Officer Maguire, ma’am. Is your brother expecting you?”

The older woman looked up at Morgan County’s handsome, well-built, blonde, blue-eyed policeman, and a coquettish smile graced her lips. I couldn’t decide if I should chuckle at this turn of events or pinch Burke for gaining the upper hand.

“I came here to find Herman. Have you seen him, Officer?”

Burke lifted his what-is-she-talking-about brows at me.

I nodded and explained, “He left yesterday morning to go to Miss Ingrid’s home in Mapleton, but he never arrived.”

“I see. Ma’am, could he have stopped somewhere on the way?” He held out his hand and snapped his fingers at me. I wasn’t about to give up the key. I deftly slid past him and unlocked the door.

“He never has.” Miss Ingrid stepped inside and moved to the sofa. “Oh, my goodness.” She swiped a finger across a lamp table. “I’ll tackle this dust after I’ve rested a bit.”

“Yes, ma’am. Have you tried his cell phone?”

“He’s not answering, Officer.”

“Maybe the battery’s dead. Maybe he forgot to recharge the battery.”

Again, she smiled up at Burke. “He is getting on up in years.”

Samson appeared at the screen door and barked.

“Oh!” Miss Ingrid wilted into the sofa, gasping and clutching her shawl again. “I don’t like dogs. Please send him away.”

I started toward the screen door to do just that when Burke said, “I’ll get him,” opened the door, and stepped outside.

“May I have some water, dear?”

I turned back to Miss Ingrid. She did look a little pale and a lot dry.

Outside, Burke said, “What’s this, boy?”

I was torn between watering Farnsberry’s sister and getting to the porch to find out what treasure Samson had brought us today. I rushed into the kitchen, found a glass, filled it, and passed it to Miss Ingrid on my way to a touchdown.

Once outside, I whispered, “What is it?”

Burke opened his pocketknife, placed the blade under a long bone, and looked at the rounded end.

I leaned over. “Is that a human femur?”

“That would be my guess,” he muttered. “I think it’s time to ask Samson—”

At the mention of his name, Samson barked and jumped, Miss Ingrid squealed, I startled and got twisted up in Samson’s feet and fell against Burke’s shoulder and slid down into his arms.

“—where he found this bone.”

I landed no more than two inches from Burke’s face. I was at such an angle that my feet couldn’t find purchase, nor could I move my head. Good gracious, but the man’s arms felt like steel. He didn’t push me away this time. His mouth was so close to mine that I could have nibbled on his bottom lip if I’d—dear Gussie, but his aftershave just about overwhelmed my senses as he gazed into my eyes.

“Are you okay, Sophie?” Whispered, like a breeze.

Oh, mercy. Speaking was out of the question. I didn’t even know if I could nod, but I attempted it and succeeded, slightly, slowly.

He stared into my eyes for another three seconds. I couldn’t breathe. Then, suddenly, he stood, his hands clutching my waist. Shivers raced up my back and over the top of my head and down my face to my collarbone. I hadn’t had a man touch me like this since... hmmm... since... well, a long time ago.

Samson barked several times, forcing my focus back on him and not on the fact that Burke still had one of his hands on me.

“How will you find the bone?”

“I’ll let Samson show me.”

“I’m going with you.”

“I don’t think so. This is official business now, with a body.”

“Body parts. And, Officer Maguire, you can’t stop me from walking with one of my favorite dogs.” I looked over at Samson and smiled at him. “We love walks, don’t we, boy?”

Burke snorted, and his hand tightened on my waist. “My and favorite are adjectives you never use when referencing the noun dog.”

“How would you know?” I made the mistake of glaring up at him.

His blue eyes softened. “I remember, Sophie.” He stared at my mouth. His gaze moved up my face and did a quick search of my eyes and then drifted to my mouth again.

Whoa, boy. No chance of that happening! Those days are long, long gone.

I pushed away from him, well out of his reach. “I’ll get my hat, spray, and net.” I glanced down at my disgusting old robe. “And I’ll get dressed.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you at your house in twenty minutes.”

Most people going on a hike in Texas would never leave without head protection from the hot blaring sun or using bug spray or netting for the mosquitoes and other flying insects. But what about protecting myself from Burke?

I turned back to Miss Ingrid. I had no clue what to do with the woman. I grabbed Burke’s arm and shoved him to where Miss Ingrid couldn’t see us. “What are we going to do with her? We can’t just leave her here. Farnsberry’s supposed to be at her house.”

“I need to call in Farnsberry’s disappearance and the human femur.” He walked to his patrol car and got in. After several minutes, he got out and walked toward me. “Do you know anyone who could sit with Miss Ingrid?”

“Mrs. LeGraff lives two doors down from me. I’ll ask her.” I peered into the screen door. “Miss Ingrid? You remember my neighbor, Bonnie LeGraff, across the street? I’m going to talk to her, and I’ll be right back.”

“All right, dear. Herman should be along soon, I think.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I walked down the steps with Burke and lowered my voice. “Don’t even think about leaving without me, Maguire.” I sent him my most wicked, squinty-eyed look. It had simply slipped out. Growing up together on this very street, we used to tease each other with these hideous, piercing looks. It was too late to stop now. “I’ll hunt you down and—”

He grinned at me. “You always were more bark than bite.”

“And don’t compare me to a dawg, Deputeeee!” I marched off toward Mrs. LeGraff’s as Burke chuckled behind me. I turned around and bared my teeth at him.

Which made him hoot and woof! at me.

I laughed out loud and kept walking.

image

WELL, BLESS MRS. LEGRAFF’S heart. She took our dazed Miss Ingrid under her wing and offered to make her sweet tea. The two ladies, arm in arm, walked toward the kitchen to see if Herman had ‘decent brew’ on hand as I slipped out Farnsberry’s front door.

“Ready?”

Burke nodded. “Ready.”

Our first stop was Jim Peters’ home.

Jim had moved into the old house down the street about two years ago, but he kept to himself. That’s the kind of neighbor I appreciate. I had wondered a time or two how he made a living, but I didn’t care enough to ask anyone.

His garage was open, with an old 50’s-style car’s nose poking out into the daylight. Burke walked up to the legs that seemed to sprout from under the driver’s side and called out Jim’s name. When he answered, Burke asked him if he and Samson had hiked in the national forest lately.

He scooted out from under the car and wiped his hands on a cloth. “We do almost every day. Why?”

“We think he might have found a shallow grave out there.”

“A grave?”

“Wondered if you’d mind if we went on a hike with him in a few minutes, see if he could lead us to it.”

“He’d love that.” He snapped his fingers at his dog. “Come here, boy.” Samson nuzzled Jim’s leg and then his entire body wagged on his way over to me.

We left, and Samson happily followed us.

When we reached the patrol car, Burke opened the back door, and Samson eagerly jumped in and plopped down on the seat as if he’d been promised a steak and a cat if he’d show us where that body was buried.

Burke picked up the bone. “Here, boy.” Samson sniffed it and would’ve grabbed it with his teeth if Burke hadn’t been quick. “Show us, boy.” Then Burke tossed it on the floorboard, got in, and we headed out.

We drove around the corner. Samson barked. We both turned around, and there he sat with the bone in his mouth as if he knew exactly what we wanted from him. “Good boy,” I said and turned back around. Samson’s paws appeared beside my shoulder, and he licked the side of my face. Ew! I swabbed my cheek and admirably refrained from snarling at him. “Is he trying to tell us something?”

Burke pulled over, got out, and opened the back door.

Samson jumped out and raced into the woods behind Farnsberry’s property. We followed. Well, Burke followed. Following involved sprinting, and this writer does not sprint anywhere—unless, of course, a band of pillaging pirates was after me and even then, I might not be able to actually sprint.

I quickly put on my hat and netting and slipped the canteen strap over my head. I shuffled behind them. I really needed to commit to the ten-mile drive to Crockett and use my three-year-old gym membership at least once. I always intend to use it, so that counts for something. I tried to fast-walk to catch up to Burke and Samson, but I lost them.

I was about a hundred yards from where we parked when an empty wheelchair caught my eye. A foot near the chair seemed to shoot out of a tree. I sneaked up on that appendage and discovered it was attached to Muriel Wainwright’s leg. She was lying on a blanket, looking up at, uh, at... “You all right, Muriel?”

“Oh, hey, Sophie. See that squirrel way up there near the top of that tree?”

I didn’t see a thing.

“He scampered up there with something in his mouth. An earring or a ring.” She lifted her brows at me. “Interesting, huh?”

I’d say. “Wonder where he got it.” Even though I tried for ‘casual’, the excitement of the find came through my words and sounded anything but. “You come here often, Muriel?”

“Almost every day. So does Samson, Jim Peters’ German shepherd. He disappears for hours in the national forest while Jim and I talk. Something mighty interesting to Samson in those thousands and thousands of acres.”

Hmmm. “Has he brought anything out?”

Her right eyebrow shot up. “Other than the necklace and the femur?”

“You’ve seen them?” But Muriel hadn’t mentioned the jawbone.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s found a grave. My father and I discovered one in the national forest years ago, but we were lost and couldn’t tell the police where it was. Maybe Samson found it. He sure was protective of the necklace and the femur. Wouldn’t even let me near them.”

I needed to find Burke and tell him. “Are you okay alone out here?”

“Oh, sure. I’m strong.” She squeezed the bicep on her arm. “My brother drops me off, picks me up after I call him.” She patted her fanny pack. “And I have a gun.”

Uh-huh. Well. “See you later then.”

“Tell Burke hey for me.”

Oh, brother. Was that a glint in her eye? She and I had been friends throughout our school years. She knew Burke and I had been best friends until high school when we began to date seriously. But he left me twelve years ago, Muriel. “Will do,” I answered cheerfully and hurried back to where I’d last seen Burke and Samson.

They were long gone, and I had no idea which direction to shuffle in. I took a deep breath and yelled, “Burke?” No answer. “Burke?

I searched the trees in front of me. Surely, they’d left some prints in the dirt, but the ground yielded nothing that I recognized as boot or paw prints. Maybe I’d pick up their trail a few yards inside the grove.

But what if I didn’t? What if I got lost?

What if dark fell and I was all alone and there was a serial murderer watching me, hoping I’d fall into his trap because he’d already killed Burke and Samson and he was just waiting for me to make a mistake so he could slowly slit my throat and watch all the blood drain out of me and into the hole he’d dug for Burke and Samson?

A shiver raced up my spine. All right, mystery writer. This is no time to get creative or queasy. Either go in or go back.

I glanced over my shoulder at Muriel’s resting spot, but she was gone. She knew where I was going, though, that I was looking for a grave. She could tell someone where to look for me.

“Burke!” I screeched one more time, but when he didn’t answer, I made my way into the waiting woods. My heart objected, thumping its way into my dry throat and pounding so hard, my whole body shook as if I were hugging an old washing machine.

I stood and listened. Everything was too still.

Had Burke and Samson scared all the animals away when they stomped through here?

Or... had the serial murderer?

Okay. That’s it. Go home. Let Burke do his job and get out of here, you little scaredy-cat.

No, no. I just need to turn off my imagination. I can—

Footsteps!

I gasped. My head jerked to the right.

Pounding footsteps!

The serial murderer was running straight towards me!

I darted behind a tree and held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t see my bottom sticking out from the tree like a pregnant woman’s belly.

The footsteps stopped. “What are you doing, Sophie?”

Oh! Burke! I was so glad to see him alive.

I straightened, cleared my throat, offered him what I was sure was a very silly, wobbly grin. “Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you or Samson to show me... to come back and... to—”

“I lost him.”

Hmmm. “I have a membership at the gym in Crockett. I can bring a guest but only once. After that, you’re on your own.”

Burke blinked at me as if I were a lunatic. “I kept up with him.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right beside him. Swift as the wind.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until he slid down a ravine and disappeared in underbrush so thick, I couldn’t see the ground.” He sniffed, looked around. “Next time, I’ll come prepared for bushwhacking.” He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “Where’d you go?”

“I spotted Muriel Wainright lying on a blanket. She saw a squirrel carrying what looked like a piece of jewelry up a tree.”

“So now we’re chasing squirrels?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It was all so ridiculous. “Now you’re taking me to Mr. Farnsberry’s house, so I can check on Miss Ingrid and see if the prodigal has returned.”

And snoop when opportunity knocked. I still had the key.

image

I THINK I SLEPT A FEW hours that afternoon because it was dark when Terri opened my bedroom door.

“You wanna know what I think?”

“No, Terri. It’s late and I just want to go back to sleep.”

She pulled off her shoes and sat on the edge of my bed.

I tugged the covers over my head and mumbled, “Go home.”

“You see?” Terri snuggled into my leg, a sure sign she was settling in for the long haul. “I think it’s time for us to get away from here. I have two weeks’ vacation coming up, with all kinds of points for hotels and plane rides. You could furnish the rental car.”

“I don’t want to think about anything anymore.” I reached for her hand and squeezed it to let her know I appreciated her efforts. My efforts to look around Farnsberry’s house earlier had been fruitless. Miss Ingrid wasn’t one to sleep during the day. “Oh, no, dear. I’d never get any sleep at night if I did.” So ‘rest’ meant her eyes were closed but her ears were perked for any sound telling her that Herman had arrived or that someone was snooping around her brother’s home.

“Let’s go somewhere exotic, Soph, like Hawaii or Cancun. Enjoy the beach, some sun. Get away from all this stress.”

“I’d love to, but right now, I just want to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.” The phone rang. It was Burke. “Samson’s at my door. The bone isn’t with him.”

I sat up, frowning. “He buried it somewhere?”

“Probably. It was our only unburied link to the grave and Sharon Farnsberry.”

“The jawbone. We’ll have to—”

“Don’t tell me. Just do whatever you need to do. Call me later.”

“All right.” I hung up, threw off the covers.

Terri was in my face. “What? What are you doing?”

“What are we doing.” I slipped into my black pants. “Samson lost or buried the femur, so we have to get the jawbone. Burke’s law enforcement, and he won’t go over there and dig up the jawbone again. You need to get dressed. In my second drawer is a black pair of pants for you if, of course, they’ll stay up on your skinny bones.”

image

“REMEMBER.” MY VOICE was raspy when I leaned over Terri. “We don’t want to scare Miss Ingrid to death. Don’t talk, cover the flashlight, and follow me.” I slipped on gloves, picked up the shovel, and sneaked into the blackness of Farnsberry’s back yard. One light was on in the house, probably the room Miss Ingrid was staying in. Fine time for a full moon. All she had to do was lift her curtain to spot us.

When the shovel hit the ground, I sucked in a breath and looked at the lighted window. Terri did the same and didn’t move for a few seconds.

“Okay,” I mumbled and kept digging. The shovel hit the box. We both squatted to retrieve it when Miss Ingrid’s light went out.

“Szzzzttt.”

“I saw it, Tare. Move to where she can’t see the flashlight.”

She did. I opened the box and gasped.

The jawbone was gone.

And in its place was a piece of paper with the words: “Well, would you look at that. Wonder who took the bone?”

The flashlight went out as I fell back on my bottom. “Terri, what is going on here?” I grabbed my forehead and rubbed. “Why would Mr. Farnsberry swap the jawbone for this ridiculous note? Come on.” I carefully picked up the note on a corner and stuffed it into my pocket. “We need to let Burke know what we found.”

I quickly reburied the box, and we hustled out of there.

We crossed the street, and Terri said, “There’s Burke. I’ll leave y’all to it. Keep me posted.”

He was waiting in front of my house in his patrol car. Terri waved good-bye as I slipped into the passenger seat and showed him the note. “Who took the jawbone and who wrote the note? It doesn’t sound like Farnsberry, or is he trying to misdirect us?” I rubbed my temples. “I can’t think. I can’t think.”

Paper rustled. Something nudged my arm. “Here.”

Gum. He’d bought me gum. I smiled and put it in my mouth. “Thanks. I might need to mention that I get a little sassy when I chew gum.”

“Get? Aren’t you sassy most of the time?”

Trying to get on my good side, Officer Maguire?

I slipped the wrapper inside my pocket. “He’ll put it back, you know.”

“What?”

“Farnsberry saw us, Burke, when we dug up the jawbone the first time. He’s playing some kind of game with me, and he’ll put it back in the box and bury it a second time. I doubt we’ll ever see it again. At least we still have Sharon’s necklace.”

“I’d bet the farm it’s gone, too.”

“I’ll go check.”

He grabbed my arm. “Not alone.”

“All right. We’ll go together.”

When I opened my front door, the hairs on the back of my neck tried to stand up but they were trembling too much to do it. “Someone’s been here,” I spoke quietly, sniffing the air and growling. “He was smoking in my house, and I’m allergic to cigarette smoke!”

Burke squeezed my arm and tugged me behind him. He slid his gun out of the holster. The night light in my back yard provided a dim glow through my curtainless windows as Burke lifted his weapon and stepped into the large, open room housing my living room, dining room, and kitchen. I looked up at the twelve-foot ceiling to see if anyone was hanging from the fan.

“Stay,” Burke breathed in my ear.

“No,” I breathed back.

He stepped into the living room. I wanted to grab a loop on his belt, but I had the presence of mind to know that that would throw off his aim. I listened to anything that might seem different in my house, although I had trouble hearing anything with my heartbeat pounding on the drums of my ears.

Leading with his gun, Burke glanced around and walked carefully down the hallway. I followed him into each room, then the garage, but we found nothing.

He flipped on the main light and muttered, “Clear.” This was so surreal. I’d written this very scene in my books but had never experienced it.

Still holding his gun, he nodded toward the stairs and disappeared up them. In moments, he returned with his weapon holstered. He walked straight for the table where the necklace had sat. Had sat being the operative words here.

“It’s gone, Burke. As is every piece of evidence we had on the grave. Maybe there’s a fingerprint on the table.”

“Only in your books.” He stooped, tugged out plastic gloves, slipped them on, and shined a flashlight on the carpet. “Is this yours?”

He handed me an earring, and our fingers touched. I almost fumbled the earring as heat warmed my face. I’ve written that, too, and had never experienced the prickly feeling that comes from such a touch. I turned my back to Burke, pretending to see better in the light coming through the window. “I lost this yesterday.”

Behind me, he sighed. “Then we have absolutely nothing.”

And absolutely nothing meant we were back to square one.