Deadly Secrets (2 page)

“Oh, he was off somewhere when I left—probably chasing squirrels again—so I came without him.”

Jake was Kelly’s dog, or as Kelly liked to put it, Jake was a dog and the question of who was master hadn’t been decided. The black-and-tan German shepherd with one ragged ear and enough scars to show he’d been around was all the family Kelly had now that his wife, Lynda and his mom were both dead.

Jake must have had his ESP turned on because Cam had no sooner asked about him than he came bounding through the gate and up the steps of the patio.

“About time you put in an appearance.” Kelly reached out to stroke the dog’s head.

Jake slapped his tail against Kelly’s leg then walked over to shove his nose into Cam’s outstretched hand.

“He’s probably been out ridding the woods of dangerous squirrels,” Cam said, running an affectionate hand along Jake’s ribs.

“I guess at least one of us needs to get some exercise.” Kelly unwound his six-foot frame from the booth and stretched to loosen a few muscles.

“Well, I guess it’s time to get back to work,” Cam said, standing up beside Kelly. “Wish me luck with Anna.”

“It’d be nice if I could say things will probably settle down around here.” Kelly stepped over to the railing and tilted his head to look up at the sky. “But it’s a full moon out there and I’m afraid it’s going to be one of those nights.”

The two of them peered up through the pecan trees to where the moon—plump and rich in its fullness—bathed the branches in gleaming silver.

“What is that old superstition about pale riders and moonlit nights?” Kelly grinned and closed his eye in a teasing wink.

“Don’t even joke about stuff like that.” Cam shuddered and shook himself as if to ward off an evil eye.

Chapter Two

Back at the cabin Kelly stretched out in his recliner and dozed. At one-thirty, when the alarm buzzed for his two o’clock rounds at the flea market, he awoke to find that a storm had rolled in while he slept.

Kelly swiped the steaming window and squinted at the steady stream of rain that poured off the eaves. “Looks like a real gully washer.” He told the dog.

Jake, who hated storms, paced anxiously back and forth from the front door to the kitchen.

“You might as well settle down. We aren’t going out in that stuff.  Kelly picked up the coffee pot and flicked the switch for brew then pulled a chair up to the kitchen table. When the coffee finished, he poured a cup and watched as a faint glimmer of light broke through the clouds.  Giant maples thick with darkening leaves leaned across the path to the flea market. But by two o’clock the winds had receded.  “Looks like it’s about blown itself out.” Kelly told Jake.  He pulled on his boots and then grabbed a slicker out of the closet.

Jake raced across the room and stood expectantly in front of the door.

“Okay, I get it,” Kelly chuckled.  “Let’s get on down there and get it over with.”

Inside the barn that housed the flea market, the beam from Kelly’s flashlight danced over sheet-covered tables. These tables were for the short-term vendors who rented from Friday to Sunday and covered their goods with sheets when they left for the night.

Permanent dealers had their own shops—enclosed three-sided cubicles with curtained entrances—where they sold everything from cultural standbys like hats, boots, jeans and t-shirts to gaudy jewelry and swirling salsa dresses. Then there were the new and used shops, like Anna’s, where treasure hunters could browse through boxes of ornamental plates, old glasses and beer steins and baskets overflowing with everything from spoon collections to buttons and badges dating back to the civil war.

Kelly and Jake walked along the aisles. Gusts of wind whipped across the shrouded tables buffeting the sheets into dancing ghosts. The barn steamed with moisture left by the storm and Kelly itched to complete his rounds. He had an edgy feeling that made him anxious to get out of the barn. Jake seemed to feel it too. He paced the concrete, ears perked and alert, as if listening for something half expected.

When they finally turned into the last aisle, Kelly breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace. The refreshment stand, dimly lit by a Budweiser neon guitar cut in the shape of the state of Texas, loomed ahead in the shadows.

Jake had trotted ahead and he now stopped and lifted his nose, then he pulled back his lips and let out a menacing growl. Startled, Kelly clicked the flashlight on high and shone it into the refreshment stand. Inside, an old refrigerator leaned against the wall and a silver coffee urn glinted on the counter.

Kelly moved the light across the stand and shone it on the ground in front of the door. The light picked out a dark bundle that looked like rags. Kelly focused the light and started forward, moving fast. He reached a spot where the light sharpened the shadows into images, the bundle became a body and a sharp odor—the kind you never forgot—stung his nostrils.

“My God,” he cried out and sprinted the distance to the booth with Jake hard on his heels.

Kelly had recognized the old, black poncho and instinct told him what to expect. Dropping to his knees, he reached out and pulled back the poncho. Jake stiffened and growled.

Anna Davis’ pupils had rolled back under swollen lids and her blood-gorged tongue filled her mouth. Fighting waves of nausea, Kelly gulped air and clenched his hands into fists. After a couple minutes, he pulled himself together and got to his feet.

“Let’s go boy.” He cleared his throat with a kind of strangled cough. “We’ve got some calls to make.”

Jake fell into step and they crossed to the box in front of the refreshment stand where Kelly flipped the master switch. Bright light flooded the barn and spilled across Anna. Jake growled and Kelly stroked his head. “Easy now.” He settled his hand on Jake’s back.  “I need to call the county.” Kelly pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed the Tarrant County Sheriff’s Department. 

Seconds later, a crisp efficient voice said hello. Kelly identified himself, and the voice requested a report.  Kelly complied. “My cabin’s up at the entrance,” he said, when asked to keep himself available. “I’ll open the gates and wait out front for their arrival”. That settled, Kelly pocketed his phone and turned to Jake. “Come on boy, let’s get up the hill.”

At thirty-eight Kelly still had the smooth, well-paced gait of an athlete and only a practiced eye would notice the stiffness in his left leg—a souvenir from a stray bullet.

The clouds had been swirled away by the storm’s wind and now moonlight bathed the cabin in an eerie gray and orange glow that seemed to fit the night. As promised, Kelly opened the main gates, and then he and Jake headed for the cabin.  On the porch he Kelly settled into an old rocker and Jake flopped at his feet. Silence, like a blanket, covered the flea market. Even the crickets were still. Mechanically, Kelly set the chair to rocking. Pictures of Anna flashed through his mind—a kaleidoscope of memories tracing the years he’d spent at Indian Creek.

Time passed and in the distance a siren sounded. Squinting northward, Kelly spotted flashes of red and blue lights. Minutes later, a patrol car turned into the yard and pulled up to the cabin.

A young deputy jumped from the car and strode to the porch. “Are you Kelly McWinter?” He was just a kid with short blonde hair trimmed close to his ears and wearing an immaculate brown-and-tan uniform. “I’m Deputy Johnson,” he said without waiting for an answer. “I understand you’ve got a body here.”

“That’s right.” Kelly rose and crossed the porch to meet the officer. “She’s down by the refreshment stand. I checked to make sure she was dead.”

Johnson narrowed his eyes. His right hand, which had been resting comfortably on the butt of his holstered gun, stiffened.

“Nobody ever tell you not to touch a corpse?”

Kelly smiled, remembering the first time he’d been called out on a homicide. “Hey, it’s all right.” He kept his voice low and friendly. “I used to be on the force myself. I know the drill.”

Johnson relaxed a bit but kept his hand on the holster. “Okay, just so’s you didn’t contaminate anything.”

A squeal of tires announced the county ambulance. Two men in white overalls jumped out. A veteran with stooped shoulders and a mop of thick gray hair climbed into the back of the van and handed a large black case to a well-muscled, young Mexican.

Johnson walked over to the van, said a few words then signaled Kelly to lead the way down the hill.

Taking them through the double doors, Kelly approached the refreshment stand. “Over there.” He pointed.

The younger medic stepped into the circle of light that beamed from the ceiling, set his case beside Anna’s feet and started unpacking.

“Watch what the hell you’re doing.” The harsh voice boomed through the silent barn startling the young medic and causing him to stumble into Anna’s cash box sending it skidding across the cement.

In the wake of the voice, a stocky cop with short legs and long arms stomped onto the scene. “Can’t you see this is a friggin’ crime scene?” The cop’s thick, bulbous nose quivered and his cheeks puffed out as he let loose on the young medic. The red-faced medic bent to retrieve his case and the cop turned to Kelly.

“I’m Sergeant Adams,” he said. “You the guy that reported this?”

“That’s right. I’m the security guard here. I found her when I made my two o’clock rounds.”

“Okay, I’ll get to you in a minute.”

Adams
was a hard ass but Kelly sympathized. If there was any chance Anna was still alive, the medics would have priority at the scene. However, plenty of vital evidence could be destroyed in the first few minutes of an investigation. It was a standing joke with cops that an over-anxious medic was the defense attorney’s best friend. They’d been known to smear fingerprints, brush off hair and fibers and wipe away any sign of bodily fluids.

Kelly had seen it all and a vivid memory of one of his own cases where an over-anxious medic had started CPR on a cold corpse popped readily to mind.

Adams and Johnson stood over the body, talking in low voices. Kelly watched as Adams bent down, lifted the poncho then dropped it back in place.

“Only an idiot would think there was any life left in that,” he snapped and turned back to Johnson. “Go call the CID, then wait out front to show the lab boys where to bring their stuff.”

Done with that, he turned to the medics. “You might as well get your shit out of here,” he growled. “You can stick around out front until the coroner arrives, then shove off.”

The senior medic, an old-timer who looked like he’d been through this before, shrugged and motioned to his partner to step away from the body. Johnson pulled his cell out of his pocket and pressed a button.  His call would bring the criminal investigations division, a team of forensic experts and the county coroner.

Kelly walked over to where Adams stood frowning at Anna’s body.

“Suppose you tell me what you know about this,” he growled at Kelly. “Let’s sit down over there.” He turned and marched over to one of the picnic tables. Kelly rolled his eyes and followed him. Adams slid onto one of the benches and Kelly eased his long frame onto the other one.

Adams
took out a notebook.

Kelly propped his arm on the table and turned his mind back to the start of his rounds. Jake, who’d stood back from the group of strangers, padded over, sank down and rested his nose on Kelly’s boot.

“I was doing last rounds,” Kelly said. “That’d make it about two o’clock when Jake here raised his hackles and started growling.”

Jake, hearing his name, lifted his eyes to the sergeant.

“You don’t know Jake.” Kelly reached down and stroked the dog’s head. “He doesn’t make a fuss without a reason, so I was edgy. There’s not much goes on around here after the barn’s closed up but sometimes we get kids messing around. This wasn’t like that though. Jake knows the difference between kids and trouble and something was damn sure setting him off.”