Survival Instinct Page 11

  EIGHT

  Abby tagged along silently as Tracie drove the three of them across the village to the small funeral home that served as the local mortuary and coroner’s office. As the Coast Guard truck came to a stop in the front parking space, Abby said a silent prayer that God would help her find a way to support Scott in the midst of all he was experiencing.

  They climbed out of the truck and filed in the front door. Abby had been in the building once before for a neighbor’s funeral, but she’d never been past the front parlor and chapel area. Now Earl, the mortician and Bayfield County Coroner, led them down a brightly lit corridor whose unnatural florescent light added a surreal glow to their journey to the exam room. Abby felt a distinct chill as they headed toward the cold room where the body was being held.

  Scott didn’t like the smell of the mortuary. Too many bad memories-first his grandfather’s funeral, then his father’s and his grandmother’s. The same desperate, hopeless feelings rose up inside him that he’d felt when he’d endured those losses. And now Mitch. He’d never liked the man, but his stepfather’s death loomed like a specter over his mother’s disappearance. Would she be the next one he came here to identify? Scott couldn’t shake the thought from his mind.

  The outline under the sheet looked like Mitch. The face, when they peeled back the sheet, was starkly unapologetic, and somehow more real in its expression than the façade Scott had always seen Mitch wear before. He looked away, up to the mortician’s somber face, and nodded. “That’s him,” he said, ready to step back.

  As Earl silently pulled the sheet forward again, his slight movement caused Mitch’s hand to fall, swinging uselessly back and forth before settling with the fingers pointing downward, as though straining for the floor.

  Scott cocked his head to the side. Something didn’t look right.

  “Where’s his ring?” Abby’s voice echoed against the stainless steel of the cold exam room. Scott hadn’t forgotten she was back there. Though he refused to allow himself to look to her for support, especially knowing she’d endured so much already, he’d taken some comfort in knowing she was with him.

  At her comment, Scott realized what wasn’t right. A faded white line wrapped around the relative tan of Mitch’s left ring finger, stark and indecent in its nakedness. Scott looked to the mortician, half expecting him to explain that he’d already locked away Mitch’s valuables.

  Instead, Earl answered, “He wasn’t wearing any jewelry when I arrived at the scene.”

  Scott turned to look at Abby, whose expression was one of alarm.

  “He was wearing a ring this morning,” Abby insisted. “I remember looking at it when we were on the boat, because I wondered if Mitch and your mother were married to each other, and then I noticed how much his ring looked like hers with all the diamonds embedded in it, so I figured they must be.”

  Scott scowled, trying to remember. He hadn’t paid any attention to Mitch’s hands all day. He never paid him any more attention than was necessary, preferring to ignore the man when he possibly could. But now it was important. “Did Mitch leave his ring on the boat with the rest of my mother’s jewelry?”

  At his question, Abby looked at Mitch as though expecting him to sit up and answer. But death had stolen his voice.

  “I don’t know,” Abby admitted. “I wish I had paid more attention.”

  “I can ask the other Coasties if they noticed Mitch wearing a ring, and have the guys ask Tim Price about it,” Tracie offered. “And Deb gave me her home number. Since she remembered Mitch’s cell phone so accurately, perhaps she has some recollection of whether he was wearing any jewelry.”

  Scott agreed. “Perhaps someone will have noticed something.” Since there wasn’t anything more they could accomplish in the exam room, he thanked the mortician for his time and headed out to the parlor to wait for the paperwork to be completed for his signature. Abby followed him in silence, her solemn expression reminding him of his fears, causing him to wonder again if he wouldn’t be back soon to identify his mother. Tracie lingered behind, reviewing the paperwork for the investigation.

  The helpless feeling that clutched at him made Scott want to throw his head back and rage at the ceiling in the elaborately appointed front parlor of the funeral home. His mother was out there somewhere, her life in the hands of unknown kidnappers, and his only link to her whereabouts was now dead. He knew he had to do something to save his mother. He just didn’t know what.

  Abby’s fingers brushed his arm, her touch almost imperceptibly light. “Did you want to pray?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

  He turned to her, his fear boiling over. Death had been inching closer to them all day, and had now come too close. “Pray? I’ve been doing that all day and things have only gone from bad to worse.” Before she could answer, he continued. “Why don’t you get out of here before something happens to you? This isn’t about you. It’s about me finding my mother. You don’t need to get any more caught up in it.”

  It wasn’t until Abby dropped his hand and took a step back, her expression pained, that Scott realized how his words must have sounded. He’d actually been thinking that she needed to get away from him for her own protection, but that certainly wasn’t the way his words had come out. “I just don’t want-” he started.

  But Abby had already moved toward the door.

  “Abby, I-” he started again, just as Tracie came in from the back room.

  “Well, we’re at an impasse.” She sighed as she clipped her radio back into its case at her belt. “Tim Price wasn’t home.” Then she looked from Scott and Abby and blinked. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Abby reached for the doorknob and opened it. “I was just headed home. I don’t think there’s anything more I can do for you tonight.”

  “Oh.” Tracie looked mildly concerned, but then shrugged. “Well, I’ve got your contact information if we need you, so I guess that’s okay.”

  Abby nodded and slipped out the door.

  “Abby.” Scott started after her. He got as far as the open doorway and then stopped. The sleet had changed to hard, pebblelike snow. Abby hurried up the hill, presumably toward home. Scott didn’t know where she lived. He realized there was a lot about her he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he felt such a strong connection to her after just one day. And he certainly didn’t know how he was going to make things right with her after the way he’d just spoken to her.

  With a sigh, Scott took one last look at Abby’s fading figure as she hurried off into the night. Then he stepped back inside the mortuary and closed the door. He had things to do. He needed to sign the papers identifying his stepfather’s body. And then he needed to find his mother, before she ended up in the same place.

  “I got in touch with Deb,” Tracie continued as though nothing had happened. “She was able to recall that Mitch had been wearing a ring at the restaurant, even after Tim Price left, but she couldn’t describe what the ring looked like.”

  “Does she need to be able to describe it?”

  “To prove in court that she saw him wearing it, yes. But for our purposes, it’s enough to assume Mitch was wearing the ring at the restaurant, and therefore, presumably, at the time of his death.” Tracie explained as Earl entered the room, paperwork in hand.

  Scott pressed, “So somebody took it from his body after he died?”

  “Presumably.”

  “Why? And who?” Scott’s head was beginning to spin from all the strange details of the case. It had to mean something-but why would someone stoop to petty thievery once Mitch was already dead?

  Earl spoke up. “Tracie asked me the same question moments ago. There were four investigators at the scene. We both know all four of them.”

  As the quiet man’s voice drifted to silence, Tracie added, “They’re solid guys, but right now, they’re also our only suspects as far as the ring goes.”

  “Four guys,” Scott repeated.

  “Yes. And of course, Tre
vor,” Earl pointed out.

  “Of course.” Scott nearly choked. “The guy who killed Mitch in the first place.” His eyes narrowed. “And he was alone with the body before any of the investigators arrived, whereas they would have all had each other as witnesses the entire time they were at the scene, am I right?”

  Earl was completely silent, his expression somber. Tracie made some notes on her paperwork, but didn’t answer immediately. When she looked up, her words sounded slightly out of place. “Trevor is my Coast Guard partner. I trust him every day with my life.”

  “So you’re saying he’s trustworthy?” Scott pressed.

  “I need to get back to headquarters,” Tracie responded flatly.

  Earl presented them both with the documents he held. “Please sign these papers before you go.”

  Abby felt completely rotten when she arrived at home, and vowed never to drink coffee on an empty stomach again. The whole day had been far too overwhelming. She hadn’t even known Mitch twenty-four hours before. Now he was dead.

  Two messages blinked on her machine. One from her sister, one from her mom, something about Thanksgiving plans, and did she still have her recipe for apple-raspberry pie? Abby listened to their mechanically captured voices in the emptiness of her kitchen and she hugged herself, glad her family was safe and accounted for. Then she choked back a sob for Scott and his mother and all the uncertainties that surrounded them.

  She wished there was something she could do to help. She’d always adored Scott back in college, and would have jumped at the chance to spend time with him back then. But now as then, he evaded her, his world bigger and busier and somehow more important than the mundane simplicities that occupied her. He had to rescue his mother from heartless killers. She had to find her recipe for apple-raspberry pie. They lived in two completely different worlds. She would do well to remember that.

  By rights, she knew she ought to leave Scott alone. She had no claim on his life, on the search for his mother, on any of it. If he’d have asked her to help him search, she’d have gone to the ends of the earth and back again if she’d have thought it would help bring his mother back, or even simply bring him some measure of comfort in Marilyn’s absence. But he hadn’t asked for her help. He’d asked her to stay away.

  She fixed herself a bowl of cereal to settle her stomach. So much had gone wrong, and it churned inside her as she struggled to sort it all out. Trevor wanted his ring back. Trevor shot Mitch. Trevor’s brother went to Greunke’s with Mitch. Tim. Tim Price.

  Abby’s spoon settled in the empty bowl in front of her as her mind drifted back in time. Trevor’s little brother Tim had been a close pal of hers once, the little brother she’d never had. Though the Price family had never been churchgoing folks, Abby had dragged Trevor with her when she’d gone to services while they were dating. And Tim had tagged along of his own volition. Abby had even convinced him to spend a week at the Christian camp she’d grown up attending.

  It was her understanding that Tim had become a Christian at camp. He’d certainly come away a changed person. For a few years, she’d looked back and figured Tim’s salvation was the one redemptive thing she’d gotten out of her whole rotten relationship with Trevor.

  But lately it seemed Tim had fallen in with the wrong crowd. She’d heard rumors about him drinking and even using drugs. Though a part of her had wanted to talk to him and try to help him out, she’d been too scared of getting back in touch with the Trevor era of her life to ever follow through with him.

  What had Tim gotten himself into now? Was he beyond reaching?

  Abby blinked and sat up with a start. She’d almost dozed off for a moment, exhausted and lost in thought. But now she knew exactly what she needed to do. She needed to talk to Tim. Now. And though the Coast Guard guys had been unable to find him, she suddenly realized where he was most likely to be.

  The Brick wasn’t like any of the downtown pubs, which were brightly lit and eccentrically decorated to lure in the tourist crowd. The shady bar was a magnet for illegal activity, half-hidden at the end of an alley on a bluff near the edge of town, and could have easily been mistaken for someone’s crumbling old garage if not for the neon signs advertising cheap beer. Like a cinderblock plunked down by a giant, The Brick nestled in next to the hillside, reminding Abby of Mrs. Frisby’s home in Nimh.

  Abby had never been inside The Brick, but now was not a time for cowardice. She was long overdue for a talk with Tim. Besides that, it was the only way she knew to help Scott find his mother, the only lead she had in her hands to pursue. So she really had no choice.

  The rusting metal door opened on well-greased hinges, and Abby blinked at the smoky fog of the dim interior. A couple of grizzled fishermen sat at the bar, but otherwise, the place appeared to be empty. Then Abby heard the clink of balls near the back and saw Tim bent over the lone pool table, playing a game all by himself.

  Reminding herself that the younger man had once looked up to her, even held her in awe as a beloved older sister, Abby drummed up the courage to proceed. “Tim?” She blinked at him and smiled her friendliest smile, as though running into him was a happy coincidence. “Tim Price?”

  When Tim looked up and met her eyes, Abby realized how very overdue their conversation was. Though he stood nearly as tall as his brother, his skin clung to his skeletal frame, and his eyes bulged out from sunken hollows, gaunt and haunted. Where once there had been light and life and promise, now there were only shadows, as though his soul had been stolen by the powder and drink.

  “Abby?” A faraway smile stole across his features, and for an instant, she recognized the young man she’d once known. “What are you doing here?”

  She shrugged. “Thought I might play some pool.”

  “Well, have at it.” Discordant laughter bubbled from his mouth. Though she had no personal experience with alcohol, she could tell he was wasted.

  Abby nodded and took hold of a pool cue. She’d get through this, somehow. And when Marilyn was finally rescued, she’d see that Tim got some help.

  Scott stepped into the seedy joint he’d seen Abby enter, and looked around, aghast that she’d venture inside such a place. He’d looked her up in the phone book and had Tracie give him a lift to her place so he could try to apologize. They’d pulled up just in time to see her disappear around the corner on foot. Scott had followed at a distance, wondering what she was up to.

  He wondered even more now. But when he heard the name Tim Price floating through the smoke as she approached the man in back, Scott decided he could hold back his fears for her safety for a little while longer. He ducked into a booth close enough to the pool table that he could overhear Abby’s conversation with Tim. When Abby glanced up and saw him, Scott lifted a finger to his lips, motioning for her to keep quiet about his presence.

  An understanding smile flickered across her face, but she didn’t pause in her conversation. Fortunately it seemed Tim was one of those guys who liked to talk when he was drunk.

  “The Coast Guard job is chicken feed.” Tim’s voice warbled. “It keeps him in the know, is all. He’s got clout, that’s why they let him in on the big deals.”

  “Like this one?” Abby prompted. Scott watched her try to shoot pool with Tim, but from what he could see, it didn’t appear as though she’d ever held a pool cue before. Tim, however, appeared to be wasted enough not to notice her obvious lack of skill.

  “Yeah, some land development deal. Big chunk of property. They just have to take care of the owners, you know, ’cause they didn’t want to sell.”

  “Take care of them?” Abby prompted.

  “Yeah, you know, get ’em out of the picture so they can take possession. They’ve got this guy Mitch. Idiot. He was supposed to help them, but he’s getting in the way. What he doesn’t know is, they don’t even need him anymore.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Nope. Got it all taken care of.” Tim chuckled, sounding pleased with himself.

  Scott felt his h
eart sink. What had been taken care of? Was his mother already dead?

  “So what about the jewelry?” Abby asked. “Was that just a cover?”

  Scott stiffened. Abby’s question had come out of nowhere. He hadn’t heard Tim say anything about jewelry yet. But maybe Abby figured Tim was so out of it he wouldn’t notice.

  Her guess seemed to be a good one. Tim just kept right on chuckling.

  “The jewelry!” He slapped his knee and gripped his pool stick for support as his laughter bent him double. “That was just too easy. Too easy!” he repeated.

  His loud antics drew a glare from the fishermen at the bar. Tim looked up, saw their expressions and sidled closer to Abby. Scott had to strain to hear.

  “They’ve been running diamonds through those islands for years. That’s how Trevor got in with them, see. He keeps the Coast Guard out of their way, makes it nice and smooth for them, gets his cut, no questions, right? That’s how they paid this Mitch guy. Diamonds. He uses them to lure this woman, then has her leave the diamonds on the boat. Bingo! They get their diamonds back, got the woman and the land and the evidence, and nobody’s none the wiser.”

  “Wow.” Abby nodded, playing right along. “That’s brilliant.”

  “You betcha. And the best part? They ain’t even diamonds.”

  “They’re not?”

  “Nope. They’re all the same. Syn-thet-ics.” He sounded the word out slowly, as though he might not have been able to spit it out any other way. “Only problem is, now the feds are trying to trace them back here. Trevor’s got to tie up his loose ends. Getting into real estate now, ’cause the gig is up on the diamonds.”

  “They need them back?” Abby repeated. “Is that why Trevor wants his ring back?”

  “Yup.” Tim nodded. “Yup, yup, yup.” His voice faded. Then his eyes seemed to focus and he looked at Abby as though for the first time. “Oh, Abby.” He shook his head. “Abby, you shouldn’t ought to be here.”