Page 18 of 1st Shock
It is, in fact, my greatest fear and I hope to never experience it. Even thinking about it gives me jitters.
I kiss my parents goodbye, warn my mother to stay put, and leave my childhood home. Mom won’t be put off for long, so I hop in my van and head straight to the police station. Charlie and I, given our work with cold cases, are minor celebrities in our little town. Letting the chief know I'd be willing to help if the remains went unidentified will give me access and an ability to keep my mother in check by telling her the investigation is active. At the very least, I could create a composite sketch.
The chief was out at the site, but I left a message with his assistant to have him call me. While in town, I make a quick detour to the Silver Tail. Not so much to nose around, but to visit my favorite rock. From what Dad told me, the body was found four miles downriver. Something I’m grateful for because over the years, this river—and the giant boulder I’ve claimed as mine—have given me countless hours of peace.
I deal with enough dead bodies in my day job, I don’t need them littering my happy place. I know that sounds harsh, but I don’t ask for a lot. When I’m here, it brings back happy thoughts from before the sixth grade when we played in the shed our dad built. The minute I hear the babble of the river, my stress level drops.
I pull into the makeshift lot. It was never meant to be a parking area, but years of folks driving over it has left nothing but hardened dirt and gravel. I feel the crunch of pebbles under my tires and my body damn near sighs.My place.
I lock my doors and head toward my spot. The air is warm and moist, and I take a second to center myself. To block out murders, dead bodies, and cold cases. If I lived closer to my hometown, I’d come out here every day and meditate.
Just ahead is the she-shed Dad made for us when we were kids. He needed approval from the zoning board for the single room wood structure and after six months of negotiating finally agreed the town's nature center could use the dwelling for various events. To date, I'm not sure they ever actually used it, but Charlie, me, and our friends sure did.
I wind my way along, loving the feel of my soft-soled shoes moving over grass and patches of dirt. Beside me, the river is low from a lack of rain and piled rocks break the surface. On summer days, I’ve been known to kick off my shoes and wade right in. Not today. No time and it would be cold. There’s nothing relaxing about that.
But there’s my rock. A boulder actually, big enough for two people to share. I’ve never brought anyone here though. The most I’ve done is point it out to Charlie, but she’s not about to ruin her silk clothing by sitting on a dirty old rock.
I pause and close my eyes, absorbing the rustle of swaying leaves and chirping birds. The sun’s heat warms me, and my body responds by releasing the tightness in my shoulders.
My rock. I open my eyes and climb across several smaller boulders that lead to the river’s edge. I check my footing as I go, testing the stability of each before stepping on it. I’ve learned the hard way that slipping will win me a concussion or various scraps and cuts.
Then I’m there, standing in my happy place as water flows beneath. I avoid the sharp edges of granite that’ll dig into my skin then settle into my favorite crossed legged position. If I wanted, I’d hang my feet over and my toes, even with the lack of rain, would skim the water.
My place.
I give myself ten minutes to block out the world then another three to return to reality.
I say a short prayer for the person—the decomposed body—found just miles from here. I don’t know what the circumstances around that death were, but I hope it was peaceful. I’ve already told Charlie when it’s my time, I want her to bring me here. I don’t care if they have to roll me out here on a hospital bed, this is my only request. To die in my happy place.
On my rock.
Plenty of time for that though. Now I’m preoccupied with these murders and need to get to the office.
My morning is shot. That’s all I can think as I drive and contemplate the work to be done before I leave tonight. The lack of my sister's BMW and Matt's SUV will help. No distractions. Charlie had mentioned something last night about being gone. Court maybe. Or to see that ancestry client she picked up from JJ. I'm not sure. I was focused on the curve of Avery's cheek at the time and Charlie's words were lost. It's an issue with me. Charlie knows it. If my knowing where she would be this morning was that important, she'd tell meandtext me.
And yes, it's still Avery. The lead was a bust. Charlie went crazy yesterday trying to find a missing Tonya that matches our gal. No dice so far, and she and JJ ruled out all the cold cases in this area that might be linked to Mickey. Not one missing college girl with blond hair named Tonya in the three-state region. Either that bastard Mickey lied, or Tonya didn't tell him her real name. Good for her.
Matt? Who knows where he is? Charlie handed off some cases and he disappeared. Matt's the brother we never had so we don't stress about his vanishing acts. His work ethic rivals Charlie's so we don't need him to check in every day. There are cases where he's worked twenty-four hours straight. No sleep. At all. That's the guy he is.
How he and my sister have the energy for what they do, I'll never know. Then again, they say the same about me.
I park my well-used minivan in my usual spot. The banged-up vehicle makes my sister cringe but it has plenty of cargo space for my supplies and it's been paid off for five years. Why do I need a snazzy new one? I'd rather spend that money searching for victims.
After locking it, I walk the few steps to the door, shove my key in and turn it. Or at least try to. There is nocha-chunkfrom the heavy deadbolt which means...
Unlocked.
Hunh. I step inside, shut the door again and flip the bolt. We're not freaks about the doors, but we've been around crime enough to know we're a whole lot safer when they’re locked.
Particularly with what we do. Who knows when the disgruntled spouse of a client may want to have a chat about the naughty pictures Schock Investigations took?
"Haley?"
Our office assistant appears at the end of the hallway. Separating us are four doorways. The conference room, my studio, and Charlie and Matt's offices.
"Good morning," she says.
"Morning." I point over my shoulder. "The door was unlocked."
