Page 36 of Snow Creek

I thank her, nudge Cotton away, and head to the car.

“Come by again, Detective. Haven’t had a visitor out here for a year or so.”

I tell her I will, but I hope I don’t ever have to. I’m sure I smell of cat pee.

I wind my way down the bumpy road, stopping at a couple of places. No one seems to be home. One mobile looks abandoned. Yet it hasn’t been. I peer through the window after I knock and see a sweet potato vine growing suspended by three toothpicks over some water. The water’s full. I leave my card with a note to tell them to call, though I doubt whoever lives there has a phone.

When I get to my office, I fill out the paperwork for the lab work on the samples. The courier hasn’t left, so Joshua’s cheek swab and his mother’s hair will be in Olympia tonight.

I write an email to the crime lab:

RUSH NEEDED.

The DNA samples I’m sending your way need your urgent attention. Looking for evidence of a familial match. Please do it first thing. We have a dead woman and a missing man out here and we need confirmation from you.

That night I eat the one slice of pizza I somehow managed to resist the night before. I sit at the table in my underwear, windows wide open and a fan blowing over my body. I hear the sound of the washer down the hall, separating Cotton’s fur from my black pants. I catch my reflection on the open windowpane. I look tired. The roots of my hair are showing. I’ll need to get to the salon. Maybe I should get some Dark and Dangerous.

Sixteen

Sheriff and I arrive at the office at the same time the next morning, an unusual occurrence. Port Townsend’s only all-season panhandler is setting up by a fountain that no longer spouts anything but a green swill of algae.

“Morning, Chad,” Sheriff says.

“Going to rain today,” Chad says, looking skyward, as he unfolds the carboard sign that hits all the right notes for his job.

Army Vet. please help. Family needs food.

I give him a side eye. He drives a better car than I do. Better apartment too.

Nan looks up from her keyboard, while the modern jazz she prefers leaks out of her headphones.

“Lab tried to reach you, Sheriff. You too, Detective,” she says, adjusting an owl pendant that hangs from her neck. “I told ’em that you were on assignment in a remote part of the county.”

Sheriff gives her an affirming nod. “What did they say?”

“Shooting at one of the malls in Tacoma. Case came in and crime lab gave them priority. Lots to process.” She looks down at her notes. “Late tomorrow. Next day. Can call in the morning for a better idea.”

The DNA results will only confirm what I know to be true. The Missing Person’s report and BOLO for the Wheatons will become a murder case with a chief suspect.

Seventeen

Regina looked at her wife and smiled reassuringly. They were still in the bed, curtains pulled, doors locked.

Regina got up and poured water onto a towel from a pitcher on Amy’s nightstand. Amy sat up and let Regina wash her.

“Feels so good. I wish we could go swim in the creek like we used to.”

“When you’re stronger,” Regina said, dabbing the moistened towel over Amy’s brow, then down her cheeks to her neck. Next, she put a very small amount of olive oil on her palms and worked it gently into her skin.

“Stop that, Reggie. You’re making me feel sexy.”

“It’s what I do,” she said.

Amy snuggled tighter against Regina.

“I’m so sorry for everything. Your eye. The things I said.”

A tear fell from Regina’s eye. She put her fingertips against Amy’s lips.

---