Rock Harbor Series - 03 - Into the Deep (3 page)

Samson followed her into the kitchen. She wanted to pick him up, but knew she couldn’t transfer her own fear to her son. Samson nudged her hand then stopped, his ruff raised. He whined and went to the back door. Sniffing the floor, he whined again then lifted his muzzle and howled. He tucked his tail between his legs and hunched down.

He was signaling a death scent.

2

T
he streets of Rock Harbor were choked with cars, a sure sign summer had come to the U.P. Ignoring the posted no-parking zones, motor homes had been left in haphazard abandon while their occupants loitered along the outdoor displays of thimbleberry jam and local honey.

Kade Matthews grimaced when he couldn’t find a spot to leave his pickup. There was no use in getting ticked off though. This was how it was every summer. And the money the tourists spent kept the town going the rest of the year. He finally found a space he could squeeze into across from the Suomi Cafe. He got out of his truck, then dodged a family in the middle of the street, gawking over the architecture of the town clock.

The cafe was doing a brisk dinner business. Molly, her hair scraped back from her skinny face, brought him a cup of coffee as soon as he slid into a booth. “What happened at the lake today, eh? I heard a body was found.” Her Yooper accent was always more pronounced when she was excited, and today it was thick enough to butter the
nisu
in the display case.

“Then you know more than I do. I left when the sheriff took over.” He studied the menu though he knew it as well as the contents of his own cupboards.

“Hey, you heard the latest Yooper joke?” Molly didn’t wait for Kade to answer. “You know you’re a Yooper if your mosquito repellent doubles as your aftershave.”

Kade grinned. “I heard you’re a Yooper if you think the sign saying ‘Fine for Parking’ means this is a really good spot.”

She laughed and nodded toward the street thronged with cars. “Looks like all da trolls are the real Yoopers.”

Anyone living below the Mackinac Bridge, otherwise known as Troll Turnpike, was called a troll. The ongoing joke in the U.P. was that trolls were easy to spot because they locked their houses when they left and locked their car doors even in Escanaba. No real resident bothered with locking anything. Kade wasn’t even sure where his house key was hiding.

He grinned at Molly and ordered a pumpernickel and rye sandwich with chips, then turned to stare out the window. Seeing Bree today had shaken him.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

His sister’s voice interrupted his thoughts, a circumstance he welcomed since his thoughts persistently drifted to Bree. He glanced at his watch. Six o’clock. “You’re off work early.” The Coffee Place didn’t close until eleven, and he’d thought Lauri had to work until then.

Lauri slung her tall, slim form onto the seat across from him. “The smell of the espresso was making me sick, so Cutler let me go a little early.”

She did look a little green. Kade pushed his glass of water toward her. “Need something to drink?”

She shook her head. “Food is what I need. The morning sickness doesn’t usually bother me if I eat breakfast, but I was running late this morning so I didn’t eat anything. All I’ve had today is a bagel.” She told Molly to bring her a chicken-salad sandwich and a Dr Pepper then turned to Kade. “Okay, give. What’s going on out at the lake? Bree called for me to come help search, but I had to work.”

“Phil Taylor was reported missing. I found his fishing rod and gear out by Three Indians. When I left, Bree and Naomi were trying to find him. Molly said she heard they found a body, but don’t quote me.”

“Who’s Phil Taylor?”

“One of the new scientists in charge of things out at Rock Hound Mine.”

Lauri shook her head. “Seems crazy to put a lab in a mine. And they’re growing stuff in there, I hear. One of my customers this afternoon told me he saw them hauling in what looked like plants.”

Kade grunted. “Sounds crazy, but with lights I suppose you can grow plants anywhere. And there would be plenty of humidity in there.”

Lauri didn’t answer but stared at him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“What? Do I have dirt on my face?”

She scowled. “I suppose you didn’t even speak to Bree, did you? You are as stubborn as the summer mold. It’s been two months and you haven’t even tried to hear her side of things.”

“What is there to talk about? She prefers her fireman Nick. She can have him.”

“You make me so mad! Bree too. She’s just as stubborn as you. If one of you would just apologize, everything would be fine.”

“I have nothing to apologize for.” Kade crossed his arms over his chest.

Lauri narrowed her eyes. “Men never apologize,” she said.

She seemed about to launch into another tirade, but Kade shook his head. “Did you go for your doctor’s appointment this morning before work?”

“Yep, everything is fine. The doctor says the baby is healthy.” She accepted the Dr Pepper Molly brought her and swished her straw through the dark liquid absently.

Kade frowned as he watched her. The past two months had brought a definite softening of her attitude toward him, but the cost had been high. With his sister now four months pregnant and only seventeen herself, the future terrified him. Lauri was his responsibility, and the thought
often made him break out in a cold sweat in the early hours before dawn.

So far he’d failed miserably. With Bree as well as his sister.

Superior Forensics was in charge of the kitchen now that it looked as though Phil had been murdered. Bree wished she could fix Denise a cup of tea, but they’d been banished to the living room. Naomi had taken the boys to Anu’s.

The bereaved wife rocked back and forth in the armchair by the window. “He can’t be dead,” she murmured.

The living room was pleasant and homey with lots of family pictures scattered on the various end tables and walls. The blue and yellow color scheme would be cheerful in other circumstances. Toys lay scattered on the carpet, and the room looked every inch a happy home. Bree knew it would be a long time before much laugher echoed here again.

“I’m so sorry, Denise,” Bree said, kneeling in front of the woman. “I know what you’re feeling. My husband died nearly two years ago in a plane crash.” Her eyes burned. She remembered every minute detail of how she heard the news about Rob. They were etched into her memory forever. She held Denise’s cold and shaking hands tightly.

Samson pressed his nose against Denise’s leg and gave it a comforting lick. His wounds, mostly around his head, had been bandaged, giving him a wounded-hero appearance.

“I need to do something,” Denise said. “Call our family, I suppose.” Fresh tears erupted. “I don’t know how I can tell his mother. He’s her only child.”

Bree winced. “I could call for you.”

“No, no, I should do it. It would be worse to hear it from a stranger.” She rubbed her eyes, then looked at Bree. “No offense.”

“None taken. I think I have some Pepsi in the Jeep. Can I get you one? I have some pistachios as well.”

“No thanks. I couldn’t eat anything. I suppose you think I had something to do with Phil’s death.” Denise wiped her red nose as fresh tears welled. “There has to be some mistake. When I left to go shopping, Phil was getting his things together to go fishing. He promised he’d be back by ten to help me with Adrian’s party.”

“No one is accusing you of anything.”

“You didn’t see the way the sheriff looked at me. He thinks I killed him.” Denise buried her face in her hands.

Bree touched her shoulder. “Mason will figure it out. Tell me about your morning.”

Denise gulped. “I went out to the lab to pick up some papers for Phil, then went to get groceries.”

“What papers did you pick up?”

Denise hunched her shoulders. “He said it was just some notes on the project. It was just a bunch of squiggles—made no sense to me. He had an idea and wanted to work on it over the weekend.”

“Did you talk to anyone at the lab?”

“No. No one was around, so I just used his key for the office, grabbed the papers, and left.”

Bree knew she had no business getting involved in this murder. Mason hadn’t asked for her help, and Denise wasn’t a personal friend, but something about the woman tugged at her heart. Maybe it was the death of her husband. Bree told herself to keep her nose out of it, but somehow she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Denise deserved answers, and so did those children.

“Where are those papers now?”

Denise pointed to the sofa table. “I laid them there.”

Bree stood and went to the table. “These?” She glanced at the notes. They were filled with formulas that would likely make no sense to anyone but him.

Denise nodded and burst into tears again. “What am I going to do without Phil?”

Bree went to her and embraced her. Phil and Denise had brought
the kids to church since they’d moved to town. “Just hang on to God,” she whispered.

“I am,” Denise said in a choked voice. She shuddered and made an obvious attempt to regain her composure.

Once Denise was calm again, Bree probed with a gentle voice. “Was Phil happy here in Rock Harbor? Did he mention any conflicts at work?”

Denise grabbed a tissue from the box on the table. “No. He was thrilled to get to move up here. He and his dad used to come up every autumn for a fishing trip. He went on and on about how much I’d love it here, how great it would be for the kids. And this project at the lab was something he was really excited about.”

“What was he working on?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it, not even with me.”

“Did he know all the other scientists who transferred here?”

Denise nodded. “They’d already started putting the project together in Dayton.” She stopped and stared into space. “He and Yancy were especially close. They headed up the project.”

No wonder Yancy had been upset. Bree hated to be questioning Denise. “No clue about the project?”

Denise seemed to gather her thoughts. She wiped at her eyes. “I know it’s something really important to the company. The last patent they had was challenged in the courts and they lost. The company really needs this new project to be done right. And they’re on a tight deadline—two months. Phil was determined to be their golden boy.”

Now he would never spin another centrifuge or write another formula. And, more important, he’d never see his children grow up.

“Bree, we’re ready for you and Samson now.” Mason stood in the doorway, a worried frown on his face.

She leaned over and squeezed Denise’s hand. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Denise shook her head. “I’ll call my mom, and she’ll come right away. It will take her ten hours or so to get here from Indiana because
she won’t fly.” She buried her face in her hands. “I just can’t believe this,” she whispered.

“I can stay tonight,” Bree offered.

“I’ll be all right. The pastor is on his way over. When he gets here, I’ll call Phil’s mother too.” Her voice trembled.

Bree nodded then snapped her fingers at Samson, who got to his feet and followed her.

Mason led the way to the kitchen. “Forensics is done. I want Samson to see if he can follow the scent from the kitchen to any other places where the body might have been laid.”

Bree still had the scent article they’d used at the lake. She pulled it out of her backpack and gave Samson a fresh sniff. His tail swished eagerly as she rubbed his ears. “Search!” she told him.

He whined then went to work. His customary death-scent responses—drooped tail, howling, whining—manifested immediately as he nosed the spot he’d indicated earlier.

“Not there, Samson. We already know about that.” Bree pulled him away from the site. He went to the kitchen door and scratched at it. Bree let him out, and he bounded through the darkness of the backyard to the driveway. He sniffed the ground beside the driveway and began to howl again.

Mason directed the two forensic technicians to see if they could gather any more clues, and they rigged bright lights around the area. Bree called Samson and told him to continue to search. He raced back and forth across the yard. Samson worked in a Z-pattern, his nose in the air as he tried to pick up another scent. At one point he seemed to sense something near the end of the driveway, but in the end, he wandered back to Bree with his tail drooping.

“The body must have been put in a car. Samson’s not getting a scent beyond here.”

The forensic team was busy picking up hair and other debris in the driveway. “See if there are any tire marks we can use,” Mason told the men.

Samson stood with his ears sagging, and Bree knelt beside him. “You did good, boy.” She glanced at Mason. “Would you hide? He’s had a rough day.”

“Sure.” Mason handed her his hat. “You can use this.” He jogged to the back of the garage.

Bree waited a few minutes then thrust the hat under Samson’s nose. “Go find him, Samson. Find Mason.”

The dog’s tail began to swish, then he bounded away with his nose in the air. He crisscrossed the backyard until he found Mason’s scent, then raced in the direction Mason had gone. Moments later Samson came back to Bree with his tail held high and a stick in his mouth to show he’d found his quarry. Bree allowed him to lead her back to Mason.

“Good boy!” Mason rubbed the dog’s ears. “He’s a real treasure, Bree. I hear he drove off a wolf this afternoon.”

“He’s our protector.” Bree knelt and buried her face in his fur. “Good dog, Samson.”

Her dog whined and licked her face. He pulled away and went to her Jeep. “I guess he’s ready to go,” Bree said. “He probably misses Davy. He’ll be disappointed to get home and not have him there. I should probably go by Anu’s and let him see that Davy is okay.”

“And make sure yourself,” Mason said with a teasing grin.

“That too,” she agreed.

“I’ll let you know what we find out. This is sure a stumper. The Taylors have only been in town two weeks. Who would want to kill him that quick? From what I’ve seen of the man, he seemed amiable.”

“I wonder if it had anything to do with the lab. He had Denise pick up some papers for him, but they just look like formulas he was working on. Did you find anything in his car?”