Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

“First of all, can you show us where he was sitting?” Tracie asked.

Deb led them through the restaurant to the farthest dining room. “Right here in this booth, facing this way,” Deb explained, showing them a neatly tidied booth. “He ordered the steak and eggs. Barney had to heat up the grill just for him, and then the guy didn’t eat half of it before he ran off without paying.”

“I’m sorry. How much did he owe you?” Scott asked, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll take care of it.”

Deb pulled a slip of paper from her apron and passed it to Scott.

“Was anyone else with him?” Tracie pressed.

With a pop of her bubble gum, Deb answered. “He came in with Tim Price, but Tim left before he ordered.”

Fear jolted through Abby at Deb’s words. Tim Price was Trevor’s younger brother. How odd that Tim was the last person Mitch had talked to before his arrest, before Trevor killed him.

“Did you overhear any of their conversation?” Tracie pressed.

The waitress shook her head. “No. They were real quick about it.”

“No one else talked to him?” Tracie clarified.

“Not unless you count him talking on his cell phone. He got it out right after I gave him his menu. It looked to me like he tried to call somebody, but he must not have got hold of them, ’cause I no more than got back to rolling silverware than he bellered for me to come take his order. The phone sat right there.” Deb touched a spot on the tablecloth. “One of those real tiny new ones that cost so much. You’d think a guy who could afford a phone like that could afford to pay for his steak and eggs.”

At the mention of the tab, Scott passed the woman a couple of larger bills. “Keep the change,” he murmured.

Abby met his eyes. “He took out his phone when we were on the island, remember? Doesn’t that sound like the same phone?”

“Sounds like it,” Scott agreed. “And it sounds like something Mitch would carry. He always overspent on the latest technology.”

“Was that the only time you saw him use the phone?” Tracie asked.

“Nah. A little later, after she came in-” Deb pointed to Abby “-I went into the kitchen to run a load of dishes.” Deb gestured to the kitchen door in plain sight just beyond the lunch counter. Through the window in the door, they had a clear view of the dishwashing equipment. “I saw him pick up his phone again. This time he musta got somebody, but it sure didn’t make him any happier. I watched him pretty careful on account of he looked like he might want to hurt somebody, you know? And anybody who hangs out with Tim Price…” She let the words hang in the air, full of suggestion, before she popped another bubble and continued. “And it was a good thing I watched him, ’cause the next thing I knew, he up and ran out. I lit out after him, but he tore off before I even got out the door. Didn’t figure a guy in his kinda shape could move that fast.”

Tracie nodded as Deb gave her animated account. “Did you see what he did with his phone? He didn’t leave it here, did he?”

Deb tipped her head back and laughed. “If he’d left me a fancy phone like that, I wouldn’t have been worried about the bill.”

“Did he leave anything else behind?” Tracie pressed. “Receipts, scraps of paper, anything?”

“Nope, and I clean up pretty carefully.”

“Did he and Tim exchange anything?”

“Not that I saw.”

Just then, Tracie’s radio came to life. “Tracie, you out there?”

Tracie radioed back in the affirmative.

“Have you still got Scott with you?” A man’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Yes,” Tracie spoke into the device. “Jim, we need to get somebody over to Tim Price’s place. Deb saw him with Mitch just before he chased Abby.”

“I’ll get some guys right on it,” Jim agreed, then drew in a breath loud enough to carry over the radio. “I need you to take Scott on over to the mortuary. The coroner has the body ready for him to identify.”

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.”