As usual when she was working, the detective, or police chief now, was wearing a suit. One with pants instead of a skirt. Other than when she was the maid of honor at my wedding, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Grimaldi in a skirt.
She’s tall, a little taller than me, with an olive complexion, black curls cut short, and a somewhat prominent nose. And although we’ve been friends for the best part of a year and a half now—and she was maid of honor at my wedding—she still intimidates me just a little.
I pushed it aside. “Hello, Detec… um… Tamara.”
She gave me a nod. “Something wrong?”
Yes. And no. “Nothing important. If this is a bad time, it can wait.”
She shook her head. “It’s not a bad time. Come on back.”
She held the door while I grabbed the car seat with the baby and walked through. And then I followed her down the hallway to the chief’s office at the rear of the building. Once there, I put the baby on the floor, removed the blanket I kept over Carrie in the car, and started unwinding my own scarf. It was January, and while it rarely gets very cold in Middle Tennessee in the winter, it was cold enough for a scarf.
Grimaldi walked around the desk and sat down while I shrugged out of my coat and put it over the back of the chair I planned to sit in. “What’s going on?”
“I’m irritated,” I said, sitting and folding one leg over the other.
She arched her brows. “With me?”
“No. You didn’t do anything to me.” After a second I added, “Should I be?”
“No reason I can think of.” She leaned back in the desk chair. It gave a squeak and she grimaced. “Your husband isn’t here.”
I nodded. “I know. He told me Sheriff Satterfield borrowed him for a few days.”
“It’ll probably be longer than that,” Grimaldi said. “Cold cases can take a long time to solve.”
“Except it’s sort of warm now.” Or so I assumed. With the discovery of Katie’s bones, the case had heated up.
“The evidence is still fifteen years old,” Grimaldi said, and she had a point. “Do you remember the girl who disappeared?”
I shook my head. “She was Catherine’s age. Four years older than me. And she wasn’t local. To Sweetwater, I mean. Catherine knew her, and Rafe knew who she was, and maybe Dix did, too. They all went to high school in Columbia by then. But I was still in middle school. I don’t think I’d even heard her name before that day.”
Grimaldi nodded.
“Rafe told me one of the ATF agents who was up on the Skinners’ property looking at the pot houses found her.”
“It was before my time,” Grimaldi said, since she had only been in the police chief’s job for a couple of weeks by now. “But that’s what the sheriff said.”
“Did he say anything else?”
She gave me a sort of jaundiced look. “Are you here to fish?”
I wasn’t. “Fishing is secondary.” But fun nonetheless. “I didn’t actually come to talk about Katie. I’m interested, though. I remember when it happened. How freaked out everyone was. Especially Mother, and all the other mothers. I don’t think we went to school for several days after it happened.”
“That’s probably normal,” Grimaldi said. “At that time, nobody knew what had happened. At first, I’m sure your mother, and all the other mothers, were afraid it was going to turn into an epidemic. That someone was targeting teenage girls. When that didn’t turn out to be the case, everything went back to normal.”
It had. Until now. “Is it certain that it’s Katie?”
“Again, it’s not my case and I wasn’t here when the bones were found. All I know is what Sheriff Satterfield told me on the phone yesterday. But he didn’t sound like there was any doubt. I think there might have been dental records involved.”
“So the sheriff suspected it was Katie all along?” He must have, if he’d gone to Katie’s dentist to ask for dental records. And yet he hadn’t said a word about his suspicions. Not at Thanksgiving, not during Christmas.
“There aren’t that many open missing persons cases in this area,” Grimaldi said. “And although I don’t know—it’s outside my jurisdiction—there might have been things found with her—with the bones—that gave him the idea. Clothes, maybe a backpack. She was on her way to school when she disappeared, right?”
I nodded. “I guess I’ll have to wait until Rafe comes home tonight to get the details.”
“I’m afraid so,” Grimaldi said. “I’ll have to do the same, if it comes to that. Wait for the report. Other than loaning the sheriff’s department one of my investigators, I have nothing to do with the case.”
And about that… “Rafe told me Jarvis was upset because he wasn’t picked.”
“Jarvis got the consolation prize,” Grimaldi answered. When I looked as brightly inquisitive as I could, without actually sitting up and begging, she sighed. “We had another unnatural death in town a few days ago. It looks like a suicide—older man with terminal cancer, overdose of pain meds—but I had to give Jarvis something to do, or he’d be banging around here all day giving me attitude. Besides, we might as well take a good look, as there are a few interesting details.”
I looked even more brightly inquisitive, if that was possible, and she gave me a jaundiced look. “The details are none of your business, Ms…. Savannah.”
“I’m just curious,” I said. “Is it anyone I know?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Grimaldi answered, “although I suppose it’s possible. The obituary ran this morning, so I’m not telling you anything that isn’t public knowledge. His name was Scott Mason, and he was around sixty. Ring any bells?”
It didn’t, and I said so. “Is Jarvis happy about his consolation prize?”
“Not as happy as he’d be with the Graves investigation,” Grimaldi answered. “But he’s enough of a cop to give it a good look, so I can’t really complain.”
Probably better not to.
“If you didn’t come here to talk about the Katie Graves case, why are you here?”
Oh. Right. I shifted on the chair. “Did you know that Dix went out on a date last night? With Charlotte Albertson?”
There was a pause. I wasn’t sure whether the detective—chief—was flabbergasted or hurt or just confused as to why I would tell her this. Her face gave nothing away, so it was impossible to guess what she was thinking.
“No,” she said eventually, after what felt like an eternity, but which was probably just five seconds or so, “I didn’t know that.”
We sat in silence another few seconds.
“Charlotte Albertson. That’s your friend from high school, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It’s Charlotte Whitaker now. She’s been living with her parents since Christmas. I saw her, very briefly, the last time I was down here. Other than that, she’s been avoiding me.”
Or that was how it felt.
“She came to Audrey’s shop looking for a job a couple of weeks ago. Darcy said she’d been trying to get Dix to hire her since then, too. I guess maybe this—having dinner with him—was more of the same.”
“Could be,” Grimaldi said.
I squinted at her. “Aren’t you upset?” Or was she upset and just didn’t show it?
She looked back at me. “Why would I be upset?”
“Didn’t you hear me? He went on a date with her!”
“I heard you. Your brother’s a grown man. He can date anyone he wants to.”
After a second’s pause, not long enough for me to gather my wits and say anything, she added, “It’s been more than a year since his wife died. If he feels ready to start dating again, I’m happy for him.”
“Well, I’m—!” I stopped, since I couldn’t very well say that I wasn’t happy for him. I was. I didn’t want him to be alone forever, and losing a spouse is hard. Dealing with Sheila’s death, and the circumstances of it, hadn’t been easy. I was glad he was moving on.
I just wasn’t happy he was moving on with Charlotte. I wanted him to move on with Grimaldi.
“I thought the two of you…” I said, and trailed off. Suggestively. Waiting for her to pick up the ball and run with it.
She arched her brows. I huffed. “You know what I’m trying to say. You and Dix have been spending a lot of time together since Sheila died.”
“I wouldn’t call it a lot of time,” Grimaldi said judiciously.
Compared to what, exactly? “You’ve come down here to visit him. He’s gone to Nashville to visit you. And it isn’t a quick drive. You have to really want to see someone, to spend more than an hour driving to where they are just to have dinner. And for all I know, you’ve been sleeping together—and don’t tell me if you have, because I don’t want to know.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything.
“I thought you took this job, at least partly, because Dix was here. Or because the job was closer to Dix.”
She opened her mouth. And closed it again. And opened it again. “I did take the job partly because it was here. And partly because the sheriff asked for my help. And partly because I thought it would make for a nice opportunity to work with your husband.”
And while that was gratifying and all— “Then how can you be OK with the fact that Dix went on a date with someone else?”
“We don’t have an exclusive relationship,” Grimaldi said.
My eyes widened. “This wasn’t the first time Dix went on a date with someone other than you?”
Because while I’d known he was seeing her occasionally, I hadn’t known he was seeing anyone else.
Grimaldi looked uncomfortable. “As far as I know, you brother hasn’t been on a date with anyone else since his wife died.”
Well, if not Dix, then— “Have you been on a date with someone else?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” Grimaldi said.
I sniffed. “If you’ve been stringing my brother along while you’ve been dating other people, it’s absolutely my business.”
She smirked. I scowled. “Look. I like you. I made you my freaking maid of honor when I married Rafe. But Dix is my brother. And I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“I’m not hurting your brother,” Grimaldi said. And didn’t say anything else.
I folded my arms across my chest and stuck my bottom lip out. “Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like that he was on a date with Charlotte yesterday, and if you’ve been dating someone else, I don’t like that, either.”
“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Grimaldi said.
I lost my breath at the sheer unfairness of it. “Do you think I haven’t tried that? I went to the law office first thing this morning. He wasn’t there. Then I went to Charlotte’s house. She wasn’t there, either. And that’s when I ended up here.”
“Have you tried calling?” Grimaldi asked.
I hadn’t tried calling. And I wasn’t about to, not while I sat in her office. But once I was back in my car, just wait. My fingers would be smoking, that’s how fast they’d be dialing Dix’s number.
But meanwhile— “I can’t believe you’re so calm about this!”
Grimaldi looked at me, and for a second her eyes weren’t calm at all. Or maybe I imagined it, because it was what I wanted to see. At any rate, her voice was even when she said, “Your brother is a free operator. He can date anyone he wants. He isn’t married anymore, and he and I don’t have the kind of relationship that would stop him from dating someone else. And if you have questions beyond that, you’re going to have to talk to him about it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, my teeth gritted, “I will.”
Grimaldi nodded. “Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“Then you should probably go,” Grimaldi said. “I have work to do.”
She didn’t sound upset with me, so that was something, anyway. I got up and started to put on my coat. “Let me know if you want to go grab some dinner or something one night. With or without Rafe. And as long as you don’t mind if the baby comes.”
“I’m always happy to see the baby,” Grimaldi said, with a glance at her. “Is she doing OK?”
I moved on to winding the scarf around my neck. “She still wakes me up twice a night. But other than that, she’s fine. Getting bigger. I think she was thinking about turning over during tummy time yesterday.”
Grimaldi’s lips twitched. “Tummy time?”
“It’s when you put the baby on the floor and let her stay there for a while. It’s important for development. It’s how they learn to hold their heads up, and eventually to crawl and such.”
Grimaldi nodded. “I’m glad everything’s OK.”
Everything was not OK, but I didn’t bother saying so again. “I’ll see you later.” I hoisted the baby carrier from the floor.
“I’ll see you out,” Grimaldi said and got up from the desk.
I knew the way, but it probably wasn’t good for me to be wandering around inside the police station on my own. Especially since Grimaldi knew me, and might suspect that I might fall into temptation to snoop. Not sure I’d risk doing that inside a police station, but there was probably interesting information here.
I put it out of my head as she opened the door to the hallway and held it for me. “I forgot to tell you,” I said as I moved past, “I’ve decided on the title for the trashy historical romance novel I might be writing.”
Grimaldi’s brows arched. “I didn’t know you were thinking about writing a trashy romance novel.”
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since Elspeth Caulfield died. She made millions writing sex scenes about my husband. Now that she’s no longer writing, I figure her readers are probably going through withdrawal.” I would be, if I didn’t have Rafe to keep me busy at night. “Besides, her publisher could probably use another Barbara Botticelli.”
“I think there’s probably a little more to it than just the sex scenes,” Grimaldi said, as we walked side by side down the hallway toward the lobby, “but I’ll bite. What’s the title?”
I told her the title I’d come up with, and watched her mouth curve. “That’s trashy, all right.”
“Barbara had some real doozies. Apache Amour. Tartan Tryst. Pirate’s Booty.”
Grimaldi laugh-snorted. “That last one’s hard to beat.”
It was. “I’ll lend it to you, if you want to read it.” And as long as she could keep from imagining Rafe naked.
“I might take you up on that,” Grimaldi said and opened the door to the lobby. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Oh, sure. “If you’re going to kick my brother’s butt, can I be there to watch?”
“I’ll let you know,” Grimaldi said. “Have a good day, Savannah.”
She closed the door and headed back toward her office while Carrie and I made our way across the lobby and out.
Back inside the car I let the engine run for a minute while I pulled out my phone and dialed Dix’s number. It rang twice, and then went to voicemail. I don’t know why I was surprised, since nothing else had worked out the way I’d wanted it to this morning. “It’s me,” I told the recording. “Your favorite sister. Call me when you have a chance.”
No sense in yelling at him by voicemail. That would only ensure that he probably wouldn’t call me back.
So here I was, in the middle of Columbia. I couldn’t get hold of Dix or Charlotte, to chew either of them out. Grimaldi had given me no satisfaction whatsoever. She’d even refused to trash-talk Dix with me, so there’d been no relief there. I supposed I could go unburden myself to Mother, but that would entail telling her about my hopes for Dix and Grimaldi, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. Mother would probably prefer Charlotte over Grimaldi as a potential daughter-in-law, and if she did, I didn’t want to hear it.
I was officially at a loss for what to do next. I could go home, and feed Carrie, and give her tummy time before putting her down for a nap. And then I could sit there and twiddle my thumbs—or start work on Bedded by the Bedouin—while she slept.
Or I could occupy myself out here in the world for a bit longer.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was getting close to lunch. I lifted the phone again and punched in Rafe’s number.
“I’m in Columbia,” I told him when he picked up. “Want to meet for lunch?”
His voice sounded amused, and a little regretful. “Can’t. I’m working.”
“I’m sure Sheriff Satterfield won’t mind if you eat.”
“I’m up at the Skinners’ place.”
So not really nearby. “I could pick up a sandwich and come up there,” I offered.
He chuckled. “You just wanna look at the crime scene.”
I did want to look at the crime scene. If it was a crime scene. But that wasn’t the only reason, or even the most pressing, why I wanted to see him. “I’m upset,” I confessed. “I can’t get hold of Dix or Charlotte. He’s not in the office. She’s not home. And neither of them are answering the phone or responding to texts. And when I went to see Grimaldi, she told me that Dix is a big boy and he can date who he wants.”
There was a second’s pause. “Well, what did you want her to say?” Rafe asked reasonably. “Not like she’s gonna tell you he can’t. They ain’t married.”
No. And at this juncture, not likely to be.
“I just want to yell at someone.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” His voice was amused. “If you’re just gonna yell at me, I ain’t telling you where to find me.”
“Not you. There’s no reason to yell at you.”
He didn’t answer, and I added, “I just want to see you. And I wouldn’t mind seeing the crime scene. Or wherever Katie’s bones were found, if that’s what you mean by the crime scene. Can I pick up a couple of sandwiches and come meet you? I need a hug.”
He chuckled. “Sure, darlin’. I’ll meet you at Robbie’s place. You remember how to get there?”
I did remember how to get there. “It’ll be thirty minutes or so.” Between picking up the sandwiches and then making the drive across the county.
“It’ll give me time to walk back,” Rafe said easily.
“What kind of sandwich would you like?”
He requested roast beef and cheddar, and then we hung up so I could go buy sandwiches and he could start making his way back to Robbie’s trailer from wherever he was at the moment.
I’d made this trek with sandwiches once before. That had been during the Skinner investigation, and I had shown up outside Robbie Skinner’s trailer to find Pearl the pitbull running loose. Animal Control had taken her away after the murders, along with the other Skinner dogs, but Pearl had gotten away from them and made her way back, and I had run across her when I showed up to feed my husband. I’d tossed her the sandwiches I’d been carrying so she wouldn’t attack me, and she’d ended up protecting me against the big, scary guy who showed up next.
The big, scary guy had been Rafe, so I hadn’t been in any danger, but of course Pearl hadn’t known that.
This time, as I came bumping up the rough track and out into the clearing where Robbie’s old trailer was situated, there was no dog there to greet me. Rafe, on the other hand, was leaning against the side of a boring, tan Chevy with extra antennae and government plates. If you looked closely, you could see the line of blue lights in the tinted rear window.
This must be one of the plain police cars Grimaldi had told him would be at his disposal if he decided to come to work for the Columbia PD. I guess it wouldn’t look that professional for one of the investigators to be driving around on the muscular Harley-Davidson that’s Rafe’s usual mode of transportation, although I’m sure he’d prefer it.
“Nice car,” I told him, after I’d pulled up next to it and opened my door. “C’mon in. We might as well be comfortable.” And it was a little too cold for a picnic on the (dead) grass.
He grinned at me, but opened the back door to say hello to Carrie before doing anything else. He tickled her tummy, she gurgled, and then he popped the pacifier back into her mouth.
“Bring her,” I told him, and although he arched a brow, he lifted her from the car seat and snuggled her against his chest as he shut the back door and folded himself into the front seat. I exchanged his roast beef and cheddar for the baby, and indicated the cup of sweet tea sitting in the console. “Knock yourself out.”
“What about you? Ain’t you gonna eat?”
“I had my sandwich on the way. I figured I’d feed Carrie while we sit here.” I unbuttoned my coat and blouse while I juggled the baby.
“That could make it hard to concentrate,” Rafe said, but he took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with a swig of tea.
I got Carrie situated before I told him, “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, while Rafe and Carrie swallowed, and Rafe chewed. While he focused on his sandwich, I updated him on my conversation with Grimaldi. Since there wasn’t much else to say about that particular matter, I moved on to what he was doing. In a roundabout sort of way.
“I can’t believe Robbie’s trailer is still here. Shouldn’t someone have moved it away, for evidence or something?”
“You can’t really confiscate a crime scene,” Rafe said, around bites of sandwich. “Most of’em are stationary.”
Sure. But— “This one isn’t.” It was an old Airstream that had seen better days, and it had wheels.
“Where were they gonna take it?” Rafe wanted to know. “Besides, it belongs to somebody.”
“Who?”
He shrugged. “Robbie’s daughter, I guess. She’d be his next of kin, so she’d inherit everything.”
She would. And she was damned lucky her mother had taken her and moved out before the murders, or twelve-year-old Kayla and her mama would have been dead, too.
“Were the bones found on Robbie’s property?” I asked, winding my way in the direction I wanted to go.
Rafe gave me a look that told me clearly that he saw straight through me and knew exactly where I was headed. But he answered anyway. “Not sure exactly.”
I squinted at him. “But you were back there, right? Where they were found?”
He nodded. “The site’s back in the woods apiece. And it’s on Skinner land, but nobody knows for sure where the boundaries are between Robbie’s land, and Darrell’s and Art’s.”
There’d been three Skinner brothers. Art was the eldest, in his late thirties when he died. Darrell was the youngest, and I think Rafe had told me Darrell was two years older than him, so Darrell had been thirty-three or thereabouts. Robbie, whose trailer we were parked outside, had been in his mid-thirties.
“You’re here,” I pointed out. “Not at Art’s trailer, or Darrell’s. So does that mean she was found closest to Robbie’s place?”
He nodded. “But that don’t mean it’s Robbie’s land back there. I don’t think Robbie’s trailer sits in the middle of Robbie’s patch of ground. It’s much nearer the road, for one thing. Everything back in there,” he indicated the trailer and what lay beyond it, “for miles and miles belongs to the Skinners.”
Probably not for miles and miles. But I got the gist of what he was saying. The property extended back a long way, up into the hills, while the public road through this area was just down the long driveway, a football field’s distance or so away. Robbie had set his trailer much closer to the road than the back end of his property.
And since that was so— “So Robbie’s trailer could be sitting almost on the edge of Darrell’s property. Or Art’s. Is that what you’re saying?”
Rafe nodded. “Nothing out here’s marked. They’ve got fences and no trespassing signs on the edges of their property, but Robbie didn’t protect his land from Darrell, or vice versa.”
I nodded.
“Besides, I don’t think it makes no difference where she was found. The Skinners always were thick as thieves. And back when Katie disappeared, Darrell was eighteen or so. Robbie mighta been twenty-one, maybe, and Art maybe twenty-three or -four. It woulda been their daddy’s property back then.”
That made sense. Darrell, Robbie, and Art would only have come into their chunks of land when their father, the original owner, passed away and they divided it up among themselves. So just because Katie had been found on Robbie’s land, if it was Robbie’s land now, didn’t mean that Robbie was any more likely to have killed her than Darrell or Art.
And that was if anyone had killed her at all. She might have gotten lost, broken her foot, and died of exposure.
“What time of year did she disappear?” My memory wasn’t quite good enough to recall the details. It hadn’t been summer. Katie had been on her way to the school bus, so it had been during the school year. But I couldn’t recall whether it had been cold or warm, rainy or dry.
“October,” Rafe said, “if memory serves.”
So the exposure theory wasn’t much of a possibility. Sometimes it’s cold in October, but it’s usually not cold enough to kill you. “I don’t suppose it was possible to tell from the bones how she died?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Rafe said. “I ain’t seen’em personally.”
“I guess you don’t even know whether you’re investigating a murder or an accident.”
He shook his head, but qualified it with, “Hard to imagine she coulda died out here and nobody found her for sixteen years, if it wasn’t deliberate.”
Perhaps. Then again, if one of the Skinners had killed her, leaving her in the middle of the woods would have been a risk, too. Yes, it was private property, but someone might have come along and found her, even so. It would have been smarter to bury her, if they’d known she was there.
“Not everybody bothers,” Rafe said, when I pointed this out. “Remember Eugenio Hernandez?”
Not someone I was ever likely to forget, and not just because he’d almost killed Rafe. “He dumped the bodies of the girls he killed in the woods, and didn’t bother to cover them up.” And last summer, I had spent half a day walking those woods—back in Nashville, not anywhere around here—looking for those remains. One of the more disturbing half days I’ve ever spent.
“He didn’t dump them on his own property, though,” I added.
“Nobody ever said the Skinners were smart,” Rafe told me, and crumpled the empty paper that had been wrapped around his sandwich. “Thanks for lunch.”
“My pleasure.” I put a drowsy Carrie up on my shoulder and began to pat her back. “How about we take a walk?”
He shook his head, even as his lips twitched. “You ain’t dressed for that, darlin’. And you can’t take the baby into the woods.”
“I have a sling I can put her in. She’ll probably fall asleep. And I’m good at walking in heels.” They weren’t even very high heels, really. Maybe two inches, if that. And the booties covered my ankles, so I wouldn’t have to worry about twisting anything.
He looked at me. I smiled brightly, and did my best to look like I’d be just fine walking through the woods in my cashmere coat and suede booties. Like there was nothing I’d like better.
He sighed. “Fine. But when you wish you were back home, don’t blame me. I ain’t carrying you back.”
“You won’t have to. Although you might have to carry the baby.”
“I’ll carry the baby,” Rafe said and reached for his door handle. “I just won’t carry you. C’mon. Let’s get this show on the road.”