Page 74 of Water's Edge

He’s directing that comment at me. I know I’m not perfect. I’ll be the first one to admit it. But I usually get the job done. If that’s as close as I come to being perfect, I’ll take it. If anything, I’m probably harder on myself than anyone. Except maybe the anonymous emailer who’s sending veiled threats. I’ve survived this long. Maybe he should rethink things?

“I’m glad you took my advice and left Jim Truitt alone,” the sheriff says, and gives me a sideways look.

Ronnie is looking at her lap and her cheeks are turning red.

Well, crap. I take back what I was thinking about her. She spilled her guts. Sold me out. Sheriff Gray was telling me he knew I’d gotten Truitt’s DNA on the sly. At least he wasn’t giving me a sermon.

“I was up late and have some avenues to pursue,” I say. “Ronnie, stop by my desk when you’re finished here. I have something for you to take to the lab.”

She doesn’t look at me but gets up from her chair. “I’m done. I was just saying good morning.”

And a lot of other things too. But it is hard to blame her. This is a good case. Not something you get to do at the academy. That’s all training. This is real.

I go to my desk, log onto the computer, and pull up a form that she can take to the lab. I only put down what he needs to know to save the DNA samples for me. No names, no locations, no dates, no officer collecting the sample. I don’t even put Lonigan in the short report. No sense in dragging him through the mud if this turns into a problem. Ronnie is not mentioned, either, but I play with the idea of attributing it all to her. Throw her under the bus. But I don’t.

She stands by my desk. “I’m sorry, Megan.” She suddenly looks like an abused animal. Head down, sad expression. If she were a dog, her tail would be between her legs. I don’t feel sorry for her a bit. She promised to keep it quiet. A promise is a promise.

Unless it was made by me.

I hit the “print” key and the printer by Nan’s desk whirs into life. I rush over and take the paper off the tray before Nan can get it. I save the file in my computer, but I don’t make another copy for anyone.

Ronnie takes the report and leaves. I don’t expect her back until after lunch. Marley will probably take her somewhere to eat. I remember my aunt Ginger told me how, after I was born, my biological father couldn’t resist coming to the hospital to let my mom know he was aware of the birth. Took her flowers. I doubt the killer is the father of all of these babies, but it’s possible that he thought some reason up to visit them in the hospital.

I pull out the reports from Kitsap and Clallam Counties and sift through them looking for any mention of a baby, the hospital where the baby was born, birth certificates, anything that will give me a starting place. If I can find the same guy signing in to visit all three of the victims, or even two, I will have a solid lead. If I’m lucky, the hospitals will still have video surveillance tapes. But first I need the names of the hospitals and the dates the victims delivered. In Leann’s case I could probably get the information from her father, Jim Truitt, who claimed he knew nothing about her except that she was a disappointment.

I play in my head what I might say to him. What I want to say.

Well, guess what, Jim? She’s no longer a disappointment. She’s dead. If I find out you killed her, or even had her killed, you’re next.

Thinking of Leann, I wonder when she had her baby and where. I don’t find what I’m looking for in Clay’s and Larry’s files, and I know it’s not in mine. I’ll have to ask them to see if they ran that down during their investigation.

Then I have a sudden inspiration. Leann was living on Marrowstone Island, and the Nordland General Store is the center of the universe there. Little places like that are gossip central—and gossip, I am convinced, is as good as cash. Maybe Cass will have an idea where Leann gave birth.

I call Cass.

“Nordland,” she says.

“Cass, it’s Megan.”

“Howdy, girl. Did that stuff that I don’t know anything about do you any good?”

I remember what I just thought about gossip. I don’t want to tell her anymore.

“It’s still being looked at,” I say. “I’m sure it will help. It will either confirm or eliminate some information.”

“Glad to help,” she answers. “Hang on a minute.”

I hear someone talking in the background and then Cass comes back on in a soft voice. “One of those jerks, probably Joe, told people I was giving away pies. I guess I’ll have to put a sign outside that I’m out of free slices of pie.”

We both chuckle.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this, Cass,” I go on. “Please don’t mention it to anyone…”

“I’m not an idiot,” Cass says in a good-natured way. “I always watchCSIand those cop shows. It’s exciting to be helping. Even in a small way. Don’t you worry. My lips are sealed. Unless you need me for a witness. And then you couldn’t shut me up with a shovel. Sample B and sample T got an ass-kicking coming. I hope you get them.”

I hope I can trust Cass not to blab to everyone on the island. All that can happen is the sheriff and I get fired for harassment of Jim Truitt, the upstanding citizen, and his spirit guide.

“Cass, I didn’t call about the samples. I need to pick your brain.”

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