CHAPTER SIX
The kayakers were friends from grade school. They challenged each other at every opportunity and had spent last summer windsurfing outside of Hood River, the best place in Oregon to windsurf, or so they’d heard, and they had no reason to doubt it. This March had been a tough time for outdoor sports. Rain and wind and cold. Coulda been the middle of winter. Only toward the end of the month had the weather grown favorable, and the two friends had been on several weekend biking trips, tuning up for their next adventure. This afternoon they’d headed down the East Glen River, which wasn’t much of a challenge overall, but it did have a few rapids that required some serious skill.
Coming out of one of those breathtaking, white-water spots, the first boy, Ryan, had caught an oar and capsized, turning a three-sixty and popping up again. The second boy, his friend Kurt, was still razzing him as they turned the corner along a brushy expanse, which held a far slower current. This section of the river was practically a canyon, with steep slopes on either side rising up toward a darkening sky.
“What the fuck’s that?” Ryan asked, pointing. He really wanted his friend to get off his ass.
Kurt looked over and saw some red material caught in a thicket of blackberry vines that had overrun the bank. “Somebody lost their trunks,” he said, uncaring.
“It’s not trunks. It’s . . . a sleeve.”
“Well, excuse me. Somebody lost their shirt,” Kurt corrected.
They cruised closer and both stared and stared. There was an arm sticking out of the red sleeve . . . and there was a hand at the end of it with matching red fingernails, frozen in a clawlike grab.
“Fuck me,” whispered Ryan.
“You think that’s real?” asked Kurt.
The wind switched direction, blowing in their faces. The dank, rank, rotten smell answered the question.
Ryan heard a moaning sound and realized it was coming from Kurt. His own heart was pounding triple time. He reached inside his waterproof pack, pulled out the cell phone from its interior clear-plastic sack, and stopped. “Who should I call?” he asked, his voice tight.
Kurt’s eyes were wide, glued on the grasping hand. He blinked, then croaked out, “Nine-one-one.” Any other time, he would have likely responded, “Nine-one-one, moron,” but today he didn’t even think of it.
* * *
Detective Cooper Haynes was having dinner with Jamie, Harley, and Emma when the call came through. He didn’t immediately take it because he had a mouthful of arrabbiata sauce, loosely translated as “angry” sauce, and the hot red chilis were bringing tears to his eyes.
“I made the sauce,” said Emma proudly.
Duchess slapped her tail against the floor in approval at the sound of her mistress’s voice.
Cooper had known Emma for years, before and after the tragedy that had mentally debilitated her when she was a teenager. Still struggling to talk, he looked from Emma to Jamie, Emma’s sister and the woman he’d fallen in love with. Jamie was regarding him with a guilty “oops” face. “You okay?” she asked.
“Spicy, huh,” said Harley, Jamie’s daughter. She had nibbled at a bite, but most of the red-coated linguine remained on her fork, uneaten.
Emma frowned and took a bite herself, chewing hard. Moments later she dropped her fork with a clatter and grabbed for her water glass. Cooper had already done the same.
Jamie hadn’t tasted her food yet. She’d loaded up her plate mostly with salad and had taken her time. Now she set down her fork and picked up her napkin, covering her mouth while the rest of them swilled water, but Cooper could see that she was fighting laughter.
Emma set down her glass and drew a breath, her eyes watering. “I can’t eat it.”
“Maybe it’s a tad hot,” Jamie said from behind her napkin, trying to be conciliatory, but Emma gave her a sharp look.
“It’s uneatable,” Emma said gravely.
“We might be able to save it,” Jamie said, putting down the napkin, her face mostly under control though she had her lips pressed together as if she were afraid they would betray her.
“It’s DOA, Mom,” Harley disagreed. “Sorry, Emma. Good try.” She got up from her seat and went to the sink to clean off her plate.
“Too many chilies,” said Emma.
“Maybe a few too many,” said Jamie generously.
Emma considered. “You do better than I do. You didn’t ruin the garlic shrimp last week.”
“Well . . . that was a different dish.”
“We should order pizza,” said Emma.
“Good idea.” Harley swept her cell phone from her back pocket. “Deno’s.”
Cooper’s cell phone had fallen silent after its ding to let him know he had a voice mail. It was on the edge of the counter where he’d plugged it in upon returning “home” from the station. He didn’t actually live with Jamie; he had his own house. But he spent most of his free time here and a whole lot of meals, so, yeah. It was home. “It’s the station,” he said, getting up from the table.
While Jamie tried to convince Emma to let her try to take out the heat with more marinara sauce, Harley ignored them both and ordered pizzas, and Cooper moved away to listen to the message from dispatch. A recovery was underway on the East Glen River, below the trail that led to Percy’s Peak. A young woman’s body had been found.
“I gotta go out for a while,” he said, clicking off.
“What?” Jamie looked over at him, her voice serious. She knew his routine well enough to recognize this was something unusual. River Glen was a bedroom community to Portland and it had its share of smaller crimes, but Cooper was a detective and his involvement meant there was something more to the story.
Harley had frozen and was waiting for his answer. Even Emma sensed his casualness might be somewhat manufactured and frowned at him in that way that meant she was in deep thought.
“Looks like an accident along the East Glen River.” He didn’t want to get into too many details before he knew what was going on himself.
“By Ridge Pointe?” asked Emma.
“Down the river a ways from there.”
“By the overlook?” Again, Emma. She struggled with commonplace things, sometimes, but when her interest was piqued, she could be a terrier. It was amazing what she knew. And she seemed to always sense when you weren’t being completely truthful with her.
“Down that way,” Cooper agreed.
“What kind of accident?” asked Harley.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“Somebody’s dead,” said Emma.
“Emma,” Jamie warned.
Cooper walked over to Jamie and kissed her goodbye, but when he turned to leave she followed him to the back door. “Is Emma right?” she asked.
Cooper glanced over her head toward the kitchen where Harley and Emma were watching them. He pulled Jamie out the back door and onto the porch into the cool night. “A young woman’s body has been found,” he admitted. “I’ll know more later.”
“In the river?”
“Along the bank, I think.” He gave her another quick kiss, then headed out to his truck.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Cooper stood on the south bank of the East Glen River. Across from him the rescue workers were untangling the body from the blackberry vines that covered the opposite bank. They loaded the woman’s body into a flat-bottomed police boat they’d launched from the boat ramp about a mile downriver near Ridge Pointe, Emma’s place of residence. He’d thought about waiting at the marina, if you could call it that, as it was a shed, ramp, and short pier with a couple of tired houseboats listing nearby, their right to be on that stretch of riverfront still in litigation. But he hadn’t been able to wait and when he’d learned the body was opposite some undeveloped acreage owned by a wealthy local family, he made a couple of phone calls and got permission to hike down a dusty track that led to the water through a wall of brush. He’d been slapped by limbs and leaves, but was finally dumped out almost directly across from the body.
His eye traveled upward. The wrought-iron arc of the overlook jutting out from the trail that led to Percy’s Peak was just to the left of where the body had landed and about five stories up. Had she fallen from the overlook?
He glanced back at the body, now aboard the boat. They’d put her on her back on a gurney and her lank, wet hair hung down from her temples. Her mouth was open. She wore red lipstick that matched her red shirt.
His stomach churned. He could tell she was fairly young. His mind naturally went to Emma and the tragedy that had befallen her. Twenty years later, Emma had been changed forever and it still felt like he should’ve been able to do something about it, even though he knew that wasn’t the case. For years, whoever had attacked her had remained a mystery. Only recently had the truth come to light.
He heard some crashing through the brush behind him and turned just as another cop, Bryan “Ricky” Richards, broke through, rubbing at his arms and swearing under his breath. Upon spying Cooper he cut himself off, finishing with, “It’s a bitch to get here.”
“You coulda waited at the marina.”
“Marina.” He snorted. “When I heard you came here, I decided to join you.”
As the closest officer on scene when the information from the 911 call station had come in, Ricky had told Cooper he was heading to the marina while the patrol boat was ordered. The boat was just leaving as he got there, but he’d let it go without him when he’d learned Cooper was on his way and planning to approach from the water’s edge on the opposite bank. Ricky was bucking to move up to detective and had become Cooper’s unasked-for shadow. Cooper also thought maybe Ricky hadn’t been quite as eager to be up close to the body as he pretended.
Ricky glanced skyward and his gaze caught on the overlook. “Think she fell from there?”
“It’s a good bet.”
“Taking a selfie?”
Cooper grunted. The scenario of the girl stepping onto or over the fence for the perfect picture had crossed his mind, but he hated the thought of a life cut short by such a reckless decision.
“Looked pretty young,” Ricky said somewhat mournfully as the boat pulled away. Cooper turned to fight his way back through the brush along the track. He could have pointed out to Ricky that accidental death was a tragedy at any age, but knew before speaking that it would probably be a waste of breath. Ricky’s attitude was a product of his own youth, and Cooper had made enough mistakes when he was young to let others blunder their way into adulthood without a lecture every time they said or did something thoughtless and callow.
* * *
Evening descended in full before Seth and Patti left the Waystation, and Mackenzie had to put on her lights to follow them back to their town house, which was exactly where they went after another basically uneventful evening. She was chafing inside at the waste of time when she got the text from Taft, pushing their meeting till eight p.m. She texted back that she would be there, then let out a long breath. Surveillance was like that. Sometimes hours upon hours. There was still time to stop by the Sealys.
But first, she was hungry. And she had to pee.
She waited around till she saw Seth and Patti’s TV go on, then headed back toward her mom’s house, changing her mind at the last minute and dropping into the McDonald’s on the border of Laurelton and River Glen for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a trip to the loo. She ate the burger back in her car, then aimed her vehicle toward Sharon Sealy’s house. Friday night drop-in. What were the chances either of them would be home?
It was after seven when she pulled up in front of the slightly shabby-looking house. The outdoor lights were on and it was clear Sharon could really use some Moss Out! on the roof. The paint was peeling on the edges of the posts that held up the front porch, the shingles graying and warping in the bright, white illumination of an LED light.
Mac walked up the front walkway through a faintly misting rain. It had been nice up till now, but the weather was growing wilder again. She’d snapped her hair back into a ponytail after she’d parked, which made her look about ten years younger. This wasn’t necessarily a calculated move on her part, more a way to keep her hair from being plastered to her head by the rain, but she thought it might make her feel less threatening should anybody be home. There wasn’t a car in the driveway but there could be one in the garage, and there were a number of vehicles parked along the residential street that could be either Sharon’s or Elise’s.
Interior lights glowed from somewhere down the front hall. Maybe the kitchen?
Mackenzie lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated. She was definitely pushing things if she wanted to be at Taft’s place in Laurelton by eight. She was second-guessing herself. Should she put this off? Now that she was here, it seemed almost intrusive. She had no authority. None at all. In fact, it was downright snoopy.
Fortune favors the bold.
Well, hell. She banged on the door with more force than necessary. When no one immediately answered, she banged on it again.
Through one of three diamond-shaped panes in the front door panel, she saw a figure pause, and then head her way. Someone was home. Okay. Good. Maybe now she’d learn something.
It was Sharon Sealy who opened the door, Mackenzie presumed, based on her age. She was somewhere in her fifties with a straight, light brown bob and a bit of middle-aged spread at the hips. She spied Mackenzie through the little window and after a moment, unlocked the door, edging it open with a creaaaakkk that was ear-splitting but mercifully short in duration.
“Yes?” she said tersely.
“I’m Mackenzie Laughlin. I called and wanted to meet with you about your daughter Rayne?”
She recoiled as if she’d smelled something bad. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Her friend Bibi Engstrom is worried about her,” Mac quickly reminded. “I just said I’d talk to family and friends and see if they knew anything.”
“You’re getting rained on out there.”
It was more like mist coalescing on her hair and forehead, but Mackenzie took this as a possible invitation and simply nodded, wondering if she should grimace and look pathetic or if that would be overplaying it.
The door opened wider, still creaking but with less volume. Mac stepped inside before Sharon could change her mind.
“Elise is in her room. My other daughter,” she said grudgingly, hitching a chin in the direction of the dark hallway. Mac could see a line of light beneath one door. Both of them at home. Bonanza.
Sharon led her into a small family room next to a kitchen. The smell of burned toast filled the air and Mac got a quick glance of the makings of a BLT spread across the counter.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner,” she said.
“We’re just eating sandwiches. I think Elise has plans. I don’t know.”
It didn’t sound like she cared much, either.
Sharon glanced at the food and shrugged before sinking onto a sofa whose worn cushion nearly swallowed her up. “So, you’re a friend of Rayne’s?”
“Actually, I frequent the Coffee Club,” said Mac, tiptoeing around her relationship with Rayne. “If you’d like your sandwich I could—”
“Rayne knows a lot of people from work, I suppose,” Sharon cut her off. “Take a seat.” She waved an arm toward an overstuffed chair that matched the couch.
Mac gingerly sat down and also sank into the cushion. “I haven’t seen her in a while. Both Bibi and I are worried.”
“Bibi . . .” She frowned.
Mac had thought throwing out Bibi’s name would help, but maybe not.
A door opened from down the hallway, also creaking, but not as intense as the front one. Footsteps sounded on the thin carpet and then Elise appeared in the doorway. She was slightly pudgy and her dark brown hair had a bleached white-blond streak that framed a face of big blue eyes, pouty lips, and a pugnacious chin. She wore a pair of purposely tattered black jeans, black boots, and a white blouse that was cut low enough to expose a lot of flesh over the hills of her breasts.
“Who are you?” she demanded, frowning, and Mackenzie introduced herself again as a friend of Rayne’s.
“She brought up Bibi,” Sharon said, surprising Mac.
Mac’s attention snapped back to her. “You do know her.”
Elise snorted and searched inside a black leather purse for what Mackenzie expected to be a pack of cigarettes but turned out to be a tin of Altoids. “Oh, yeah, Bibi. She’s a piece of work.”
“Elise . . .” Sharon admonished.
“If you’re Bibi’s friend, you already know it, right?” Elise flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What a pain in the ass she is? So dramatic.” She rolled her eyes.
“She’s worried about Rayne. So am I,” Mac said.
“Oh, don’t.” Elise held a hand up to her mother, who was about to protest. “Rayne can’t get her life in order. She can’t keep a job. She basically slept her way through high school and as soon as she was done, moved in with her boyfriend and lived off him. She’s tried to live off Mama, too, but I won’t let her.” As if realizing she was currently living with her mother and what impression that might deliver, she added quickly, “I got my associate’s degree and I’m planning on becoming a nurse.”
“Someday,” Sharon put in, ironically.
“Anyway . . .” Elise gave her mother a speaking look. “Rayne will show up when her latest relationship ends. That’s what happens. He’ll dump her and she’ll come crying home with no money and no job.”
Mac decided to try to direct the conversation. “Bibi mentioned a new boyfriend, but she didn’t know who he was.”
Elise made a face. “Have you checked her Instagram account? There’s no new guy on there and Rayne always takes pictures of her latest sucker. Always. So, no, there’s no new guy.”
“There was someone she was seeing,” Sharon said.
“The last pictures were Seth. And Troy, I guess,” snapped Elise.
“Troy?” Mackenzie came to sharp attention.
“He’s the reason she lost that job at the old people’s place. Got told to leave,” Elise said in a mocking tone. “But then he dumped her and she moved on to his friend, Seth. That’s how she operates.”
“Is that the Troi that works for Best Homes?” asked Mackenzie.
“That’s the one.” She bit off the words. “So, you know about him.” Elise’s lips were tight.
“Not really. I think I’ve seen Seth and Troi together.”
“Well, that would be a trick, as they hate each other. Rayne ruined that friendship like she’s ruined everything else.”
“That’s not fair, Elise.” Sharon pressed her lips together, as if holding in a lot more she wanted to say.
“She stole money out of my purse, Mama. You know she did. She’s done it to you.”
Sharon crossed her arms over her chest. “Rayne’s just flighty.”
Elise turned to Mackenzie as if she were pleading a case. “She tried to get a job at Best, but it didn’t happen. She’d be going after Andrew Best, if she could.”
Sharon said distinctly, “Rayne’s just outgoing. She was really popular in school. Lots of girlfriends. And lots of boyfriends.” Elise opened her mouth to speak up again, but her mother rushed in with, “Everyone loves her. If that’s a fault, then let God hit me with it.”
Elise shut her mouth and subsided into injured silence.
“Can you remember the last time you saw her?” Mac asked them both.
They slowly looked at each other, neither wanting to give up their resentment. After a few moments, Sharon suggested, “A week ago?”
“More like two weeks . . . or so . . .” Elise finally muttered.
“That’s not unusual,” Sharon said quickly.
“It’s not unusual when she’s with a guy,” Elise qualified. “But she’s not with a guy. That’s what I just said!”
“Could it be a secret romance?” asked Mackenzie.
“With Rayne?” Elise laughed harshly. “The girl who let a guy feel her up in the dentist’s office?”
“Elise!”
“It’s true, Mama! It’s true.” Elise turned back to Mackenzie. “She’s there and waiting to have her teeth cleaned and some random guy who knew her from work, I guess, or somewhere, sees her through the glass door and comes in and before you know it they’re making out and he’s got his hand up her shirt. The receptionist, Giselle—I know her from cycle class—had to pretend she didn’t see! It was crazy! And then Rayne didn’t act like it was any big deal.”
“He worked with Rayne at the care center,” said Sharon.
“No, he didn’t,” Elise said, annoyed. “Rayne dated a lot, and that’s putting it mildly.”
They both seemed to shut down at the same moment. Bibi had told Mac that Rayne’s latest crush had been death on anyone knowing about their relationship, so she tried pushing that further. “Maybe she rekindled something with one of her old boyfriends.”
“Fat chance. Once they were done with her, they were done with her,” said Elise.
“Stop it.” Sharon’s face was red. “Those boys liked her.”
“They liked the fact that she would fuck any of them.”
“Elise!”
Her daughter lifted a hand and stormed out of the room, back down the hall to her bedroom apparently. The door slammed hard enough to shake the house.
“She’s leaving to go out to a bar and do exactly what she accuses her sister of,” Sharon said tightly. “But if Rayne does it, she’s a whore.” She gazed angrily in the direction Elise had stormed. “Elise will never forgive her.”
“Forgive her?”
Sharon’s lips parted. She looked like she was sorry she’d revealed that. Mackenzie waited, and Rayne’s mother finally admitted, “Rayne stole a boy from Elise.”
Ah.
“It was . . . a challenge to Rayne and Elise was hurt and the two of them can’t get over it.” There was a long moment, and then she added, “Rayne’s impulsive. I’ve tried to . . . well . . . it’s just been hard to get her to stay on track.”
There was a finality to her words that sounded like a dismissal. Mackenzie tried to think of what she could say to extend the interview, but she wasn’t certain there was any further information to mine. Also, after this last admission, Sharon Sealy had shut down. Mackenzie expected Elise to reappear and head out to wherever she was going, but there was no sound from the bedroom down the hall.
It appeared that Seth was only one in a long line of Rayne’s lovers and that was a tidbit of information Bibi had neglected to tell her.
Time to check in with Bibi again and see what was what. She struggled out of the chair and said goodbye to Sharon, hesitating a moment, but Sharon didn’t get up from the couch to show her out, so she walked out on her own, wincing a bit at the door’s screaming as she shut it behind her. In her RAV, she placed a call to Bibi.
She was waiting for it to go through when she saw the police car pull up on the opposite side of the street and her ex-partner, Ricky Richards, along with Detective Haynes, slam out and walk toward Sharon Sealy’s front door.
Mackenzie clicked off and dropped her phone to her lap, staring through her windshield at the two officers.
Uh . . . oh . . .
Her heart started a hard beat. She was guessing by the appearance of the two officers that Rayne had been found and, based upon what she knew about police procedure, the circumstances did not look good.