Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

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, Trevor,” 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.