Tami Hoag - Deeper Than the Dead

“Likewise.”

He looked entirely too amused when Anne turned back to him.

“Take a walk with me,” he said as he put his hand on the small of her back and started down the sidewalk away from the building. “I want you to show me where the kids found the body.”

“Can’t Detective Mendez do that?”

“He’s otherwise engaged and not nearly as pretty.”

“What’s going on?” Anne asked, falling in step with him, ignoring the compliment. He was a natural flirt. He couldn’t help himself. “Have they found the missing woman yet?”

The weight of his hand felt good against her back, but shouldn’t have. She wasn’t in the habit of letting people touch her, but she made no effort to stop him.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“But someone’s been arrested, right?” she asked looking up at him. “I saw that on the news this morning.”

“Yes,” he answered, his face carefully blank.

“But?”

He cocked a brow at her. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.”

“Oh. But you can feel free to recruit me into it.”

He dodged the barb. “Did you speak to the boy?”

“Yes, and I feel like a creepy sneak, thanks for asking.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Anne.”

“He thinks his father was home that night because they watch Cosby together. A boy and his loving, caring father sit down together and watch a wholesome family comedy.”

“What about Mom?”

“She has no sense of humor. But I would certainly buy her as a serial killer before her husband.”

He chuckled at that. “I heard she was a little upset this morning.”

“I’ve discovered this week that Janet Crane does not become a little upset.”

“Gee, and she was so pleasant to me today. Must be my charm and stunning good looks,” he teased.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Anne’s mouth as she looked up at him. “Must be. Here we are.”

The area around where the body had been buried was still corralled with yellow tape. Vince ducked under it and walked into the shallow grave. He stood there for a couple of minutes, saying nothing, looking very serious as he surveyed the area for 360 degrees around the spot.

“How well do you know this park?” he asked.

“I grew up six blocks from here.”

“Is there another way to get to this spot other than the way we just came?”

“There’s a service road about twenty yards over that rise,” she said, pointing in the general direction behind him. “The sheriff’s office is maybe a quarter of a mile beyond that.”

Even though there was probably two hours of daylight left, it was growing dark in the woods. And cold. Anne hugged herself and tried not to imagine what it would be like to have some evil monster carrying her in here to plant her body in the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Vince said, coming back to her. He shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it around her shoulders. It swallowed her up and smelled pleasantly of sandalwood soap and man. “You’re cold. Let me get you out of here. You’ve had a long week.”

“Yes. Starting right here.”

“It must have been quite a shock to you.”

“I suppose you’re used to it.”

He shook his head. “You never get used to it. You learn to close a door on it emotionally, but it’s never easy. I don’t want it to ever be easy.”

Something rustled in the dead leaves that covered the floor of the woods. Anne strained to see into the gathering gloom on the far side of the grave. She thought she could almost make out a shape half-hidden by a tree trunk.

“Somebody’s watching us,” she murmured. Probably Franny, she thought, though the feeling that crawled over her skin was creepy, and that wasn’t right.

The somebody must have felt their stares as well. There was another rustling sound and a figure darted from behind one tree to behind another. A smallish figure. A child.

“Dennis?” she called out, walking toward the grave. “Dennis, is that you?”

More rustling, and the figure streaked behind another tree. Anne started to jog, Vince’s jacket slipping off her shoulders.

“Dennis, come out! It’s all right. Come out!”

Another flash of movement. She was picking up speed, dodging branches. Her heart was pounding out of proportion to her effort. She wanted to catch him-needed to catch him-figuratively, literally, before he got away.

“Dennis!”

She caught a glimpse of him, never more. He kept running. She ran harder.

“Anne!” Vince called, gaining ground on her. “Anne, let him go!”

It seemed everyone had let Dennis go, not for the good of Dennis, but because it was too hard to deal with him. Someone needed to hang on to him or he would truly be lost.

“Anne!”

The toe of her loafer stubbed an exposed root, and she found herself falling. Losing him. She hit the ground.

“Anne!”

Vince was beside her instantly. “Are you all right?”

No , she thought. She began to tremble as the weight of it all settled hard on her shoulders-a rotten week culminating with the suspension of the one child in her class who needed the most help. And that child was now running in the woods like a wild animal, haunting a gravesite where he had somehow managed to steal the finger of a dead woman.

“Hey,” Vince said, his hands cupping her shoulders as he helped her up. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

She was fine, but tears rose in her eyes and she wished to God it was too dark for him to see them.

“Let me take you home, honey,” he said softly, brushing leaves and twigs from her hair. “You’re exhausted.”

His kindness was her undoing. She could be as tough as she had to be, but kindness… she couldn’t manage that. No matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears still came.

“Come here,” Vince whispered. He slipped his arms around her and drew her close as carefully as if she were made of fine porcelain. “It’s all right. This shoulder has been cried on before.”

For the first time that week Anne let go. She let the fraying ends of control slip through her fingers, and let loose the pressure that had been building and building inside her.

She let Vince Leone hold her and cradle her head against his chest and tell her she would be all right, that she would make it through this. She took the comfort of a stranger and somehow she didn’t feel like she was free-falling. She felt… protected, safe. It took a moment for her to even realize what the feeling was.

Vince came up with a pristine white handkerchief and dabbed gently at the tears on her cheeks, but he seemed in no hurry to let her go. And Anne felt in no hurry to leave.

She tilted her chin up and looked at him, no longer caring what he saw in her eyes-sadness, vulnerability, longing. He settled his mouth on hers for a kiss that was long and deep. And when it was finished, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to his heart beat for a long while.

“Are you and Mom getting divorced?”

The question just came out, like a hiccup or a cough. Wendy opened her mouth and the words just tumbled out. They were in the backyard, beyond the swimming pool, away from the house where her mother was fixing dinner. Her father had picked her up at school and suggested a game of catch because they hadn’t played in a long time.

“Because you’re never home,” she had said.

She was tired and in a bad mood. It seemed like life was never going to be the same again since they had found the body in the park. School wasn’t the same. Tommy wasn’t the same. Nobody treated her the same. Her parents weren’t the same. It sucked.