Janice Kay - Back Against The Wall

“I don’t, either,” she admitted, going to perch on the upholstered arm of his chair, where she could give him a quick hug.

More agitated than she’d ever seen him, he didn’t even seem to notice her embrace. “Are they sure?”

“I don’t think so, yet.” Although, Detective Navarro wouldn’t have called a CSI team if he wasn’t reasonably sure.

CSI. In our house. The idea was unreal. In those white getups, they actually looked like the swarm of investigators in the background on TV shows like NCIS.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she added. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head and, after waiting for a minute, Beth went outside to join Matt, once more planted in a lawn chair. She picked up her drink, which already felt warm, and sat in the other chair.

“I freaking can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“Me either.”

He turned a look of pure hostility on her. “You and your bright ideas.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open. “This is my fault?” Except, she thought guiltily, it kind of was. Her idea to clean out the garage, her curiosity that led her to look inside the hole.

“What if they open the garage door?”

Surprised, she said, “They haven’t?”

“One of them went out and got a couple of portable lamps.” He snorted. “Like everyone on the block and everyone driving by hasn’t noticed two police vehicles out in front of Dad’s house.”

She frowned. “I don’t actually think the detective came in a police car. He was driving a pickup truck.”

“Oh, that means no one will ever hear about this,” Matt said sarcastically.

“That’s what you’re most worried about?” Although why she was surprised she couldn’t have said. Appearances had always mattered more to Matt than to her. Still. “What if that’s Mom? What if she’s been dead all these years, and we thought she’d left us?”

“What if our father gets tried for murder?”

The air left her lungs in a rush. “That’s ridiculous! How can you think for a minute—”

“Who else, Beth? Use your head, for once.”

“For once? What are you talking about?”

“You live in your own damn dream world, just like he does. Everybody is nice. Well-meaning.”

Her mouth fell open. Did she know this brother, mocking her so cruelly?

“Nobody ever abuses a frail old man, do they?” His voice rose. “Nobody steals, beats her kid, cooks meth and sells it. And nobody ever murders his wife!”

Matt was yelling by the end. Beth wasn’t at all surprised to see Detective Navarro stepping into sight. Eavesdropping, of course, but he couldn’t help but have heard.

“You shut up,” she said fiercely to her brother. “You’ve never been fair to Dad. Do you think he can help being...being...”

Her brother’s lip curled. “Out to lunch?”

“Don’t say that!” Even though, God, it was true.

He made a scoffing sound and looked away, which meant he, too, noticed the detective. “What?”

Navarro’s dark eyebrows twitched. “You’ve lost your shade.”

No wonder she was roasting. She should retreat to the house—but she couldn’t stand her father’s company right now.

“Ms. Marshall.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle. “You’re getting sunburned.”

Of all moments to realize how attracted she was to this man. Noticing his looks wasn’t anything like this intense awareness of his body, and hers, too. Her cheeks burned even hotter at the even remote possibility he might see what she was thinking. And...how could she feel anything like that now?

“I...my tote bag is in the garage. I have sunscreen in it.”

“I’ll get it for you.” He disappeared for barely a minute, returning with the waterproof bag she usually used for her swimsuit and towel.

She started to push herself to her feet, but the detective came right to her, handing over the bag. Almost touching her. He studied her with those deep brown eyes. “You really should get out of the sun.”

“I know. It’s just...” Beth trailed off.

“You want to stay in case your father needs you.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But—” She couldn’t continue. That doesn’t mean I can sit in the silence of the house and pretend nothing is wrong. She sighed.

He nodded, the understanding on his face enough to make her want to crumple. Which she didn’t do. She was the strong one in this family. She’d never minded being a prop for the rest of them.

“There’s some shade under the tree,” he pointed out.

“We’ll move.” She summoned a smile for his kindness, lifting the tote bag a little. “Thank you for this.”

His hardening gaze moved to Matt. Which Matt totally deserved.

She watched Detective Navarro go into the garage, then stood. Without a word, she slung the tote bag over her shoulder, grabbed the chair and the cooler, and marched across the crunchy lawn to the huge old crab apple tree. Beneath its branches she sat down. She looked up from digging in the bag for the lotion and saw Matt carrying his own chair over to join her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. This is just...” His gesture was meant to encompass this completely terrible day.

“I understand.” She squirted a white glob on her hand and offered the tube of lotion to him.

Quiet now, they both rubbed lotion into their faces, necks, arms and hands. Beth dabbed some on the tips of her ears. They hadn’t been outside that much, but the day was really hot, and she burned easily. Matt had more of a tan. He and Ashley were both runners and liked to hike and backpack, too. He also had yard work to do.

“Did you call Ashley?” she asked.

He thrust his fingers into his hair. “I should, but... Man, I keep thinking this will all go away.”

“Maybe it won’t turn out to be a body.”

“Sure. That’s why they’ve been in there for—” he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time “—almost forty-five minutes.”

Had it really been that long? Heartsick, Beth gazed at the garage and tried not to imagine what was happening in there. The ridiculous attraction she’d felt for the man who might this minute be examining her mother’s dead body? There could be any number of explanations. She latched onto heatstroke. That was as rational as anything else.

* * *

TONY WATCHED AS Jess and Larry eased the contorted remains away from the constricted space between the two-by-fours, wrapping as they went to keep it as intact as possible, using the open black body bag as a tarp to be sure they didn’t lose anything that fell out with the body—or off the body—some of which was down to bones. He couldn’t look away.

Like most cops, he’d seen his share of dead people. Vehicular accidents could do hideous things to a human being. Domestic violence, strangling, gunshots, he’d seen the effects of all of them. None compared to these remains that were more disturbing by a long shot than finding only bones.

He’d seen photographs of Egyptian mummies, unwrapped to display withered brown flesh. He’d even read about a couple of cases where deaths had gone unnoticed until someone found a mummified body sitting in front of a television.

None of that had prepared him for the reality.

Once they had begun cutting the wallboard to remove it, he’d locked the door and taped coverings over both the window and the pane of glass in the door. He hated the idea that any of this woman’s children would ever see so much as a photograph of what she looked like now.

That was assuming this was Christine Marshall, but he didn’t have a lot of doubt. Missing woman? Body found in the same house? As his own father used to say, it didn’t take a rocket scientist.