Page 50 of Water's Edge

“See you in a bit, Marley. By the way, how long will that test take? A couple of days? A week?”

“Nah,” he says. “We have a new piece of equipment. We can get the DNA in two hours. Trouble is, I’m the only one here that’s been trained on it. You’ll have to ask for me.”

“Will do.”

That way you can show off for Ronnie and tell me what I want, I think.

“Bye, Marley.”

“Later on, Megan.”

I’m glad I can make someone’s day. Now I have to get the DNA samples from the Clallam and Kitsap County cases, also a rush job. Maybe I should send Ronnie to hand deliver them to be sure he’ll get on it. To be fair, Marley is a good forensic technician. The last case I had involved a locked cell phone. He managed to get it open in an hour and was able to give me much-needed information. And he’ll work all night if the case interests him. He’s like me in that way. Curious to a fault.

On the other hand, Marley is part of the bureaucracy. He’s stuck with having to justify everything. Every penny. Every hour. I only have to get results. I do what I have to and then ask for leniency if they catch me.

Much like I am about to do to Jim Truitt.

Wangling people to get information or favors is a residual trait from a childhood in which I learned very quickly that a trick or a lie is an excellent way to get what you want. I probably cried for a bottle even when I didn’t want one. But as good as I was at manipulation, my mother was the undisputed queen. She manipulated me my entire life. I didn’t realize it then, but every idea I thought was mine, every move I made, was orchestrated by her. Taking care of my brother while she was gone for days or weeks at a time was all for her benefit. She told me she was protecting the family—protecting me and my brother—but she was really maneuvering, lying bitch that she was. She betrayed us. When my stepfather was murdered, Hayden and I were forced to run. No plan. No money. No shelter. No food except what I could scrounge or steal. She turned me into a predator just like her, and my brother into someone I pitied and tried to protect.

That’s not true, I think as I reel in my thoughts.

I love Hayden. Always will. But the things I was forced to do I had to do alone. He thinks I abandoned him, and I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.

In fact, I think he hates me.

Ronnie comes to my desk and dramatically lays a few eight-by-ten photographs in front of me. The quality is not the best because at the moment Jefferson County’s budget doesn’t include a decent color printer. She puts her finger on the first image.

“Margie Benton. Clallam.”

I was prepared for Margie to have red hair. Even to be young, in her early twenties. But I’m not at all prepared for the close likeness to Leann Truitt.

In fact, they could be sisters.

“Dina Knowles. Kitsap,” Ronnie says, turning up the next picture.

I feel my heart beating fast in my chest. My mouth is dry, and I feel a little nauseous. Not as bad as at the autopsy, of course. I was overwhelmed with feelings from the past crashing into each other and forcing themselves to the front. I must have zoned out staring at the pictures. The next thing I know, Ronnie is gently shaking my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I force my eyes away from the photos and look at Ronnie.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” I say, and try to lick my lips, but I have no saliva.

Ronnie sees my predicament. “I’ll get you some water,” she says, rushing away to the water cooler. She returns a second later with a tiny paper cup.

I have part of a pint of McCallum’s Scotch hidden in the back of my bottom desk drawer, but I don’t think I should get it. I need to be a good role model, although I really could use a drink.

I take the water and down it like a shot, turning the cup over on my desk and giving Ronnie a half smile.

“Feel better?”

“I’m fine,” I say.

The truth is I’m embarrassed. She already saw me get sick at Dr. Andrade’s stainless steel table. But she hasn’t seen a tenth of the things I’ve seen.

Or done.

Ronnie has several more pictures in her hands and starts to pull them away. I put my hand on hers.

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