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The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 1-5 - Catherine Coulter [646]

By Root 4940 0
you some toast or something?”

“No, nothing.” Who was this Thomas person? Becca wondered. Why all the secrecy? It made no sense to her. She looked over at the single telephone. It was nearly nine o’clock on Thursday morning. Nothing from him. Maybe he was scared now, maybe he knew they were getting close, maybe he would go away. Still, she sat there staring at that damned black phone like it was a snake about to bite her.

The last person any of them wanted to see arrived midmorning.

“The door looks good,” Sheriff Gaffney said when Becca opened it. “What with all this mess, I didn’t think you’d worry so much about how your front door looked.”

Becca said, “You just never know, do you, Sheriff? Would you like to come in? Is there any news about who the skeleton is?”

“Yeah, I’d like to talk to you a moment, Ms. Powell. I believe now that the skeleton that fell out of your basement wall is Melissa Katzen.” He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t think old Jacob was that vicious. Bashing a young girl in the face—now that just isn’t right.”

“Sheriff,” Adam said, coming up behind Becca, “I was thinking about that. You said she was supposed to elope. Any leads on her boyfriend?”

“Nope, nobody remembers her ever dating. Isn’t that weird? Why would she keep it secret? That doesn’t make any sense to me or to my wife, Maude. She thinks that a young girl would be really proud to show off a boyfriend.”

“Maybe the boyfriend didn’t want her to show him off,” Becca said. “Maybe he told her to keep quiet.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Sheriff. I wish I did.”

“Rachel Ryan remembers her, said she was really nice, nothing new there. She also said that Melissa didn’t ever dress in sexy clothes. She was surprised when I told her about the Calvin Klein jeans and that skimpy pink top. She couldn’t remember Melissa ever wearing anything suggestive. Maybe you’re right, Ms. Powell. Maybe it was her boyfriend. But you know? I can just see a cute young girl waltzing over into Jacob Marley’s yard, him seeing her and getting all het up. Did he smash her?”

Becca said, “Maybe she was off to meet her boyfriend and coming into Jacob Marley’s yard was a shortcut.”

“Ain’t no shortcut to anywhere,” said Sheriff Gaffney. “The back of the Marley property trails off into thick woods and finally stops at the ocean.”

“Maybe,” Sherlock said, “the jeans and top were her cute traveling clothes. Maybe she did intend to elope, maybe she decided at the last minute that she didn’t want to and this boy got mad and killed her.”

Sheriff Gaffney said slowly, “Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry, Sheriff,” Adam said. “Sherlock and Savich here are friends of mine. They just stopped in for a while to visit the town.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Now, that’s not a bad idea. I guess I’d have to say that for a woman you deduced that real logically, probably better than most other women.”

Savich, who heard that, wondered if Sherlock was going to take a flying leap at the sheriff’s throat.

“Yeah,” Sherlock said thoughtfully, “I’m a lot better than poor Becca here, who can barely find her way to the Food Fort without some guy explaining the poisonous plant streets to her.”

“That was sarcasm,” Sheriff Gaffney said after a moment. “I know that was sarcasm. I’ve never believed women should have smart mouths.”

Before Sherlock could leap on the sheriff, Adam said, “Are there DNA tests being done?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Still trying to track down her father. No luck yet. Mrs. Ella remembers an aunt, lives in Bangor now. Maybe she read about the skeleton and was the one who made the anonymous call. I’ve got to track her down.” Sheriff Gaffney sighed and patted the gun at his wide leather belt that was really cutting into his gut today. “But we can’t count on the skeleton being Melissa, even though I’ve made up my mind that it is, so we’re looking into other things as well.” Sheriff Gaffney leaned his considerable weight back on his heels. “Now, folks, the reason I’m here is to ask about these guys I’ve seen on and off around Riptide. No, don’t lie to me. I know they’re with you, Mr. Savich.

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