Part 12 (1/2)

”My point,” Melissa said with rather strained patience, obviously determined to make it, whether I wanted to hear it or not, ”is that I'm happy for you. He's a sweet guy. You're lucky.”

It sounded more like she was saying that I was lucky he'd chosen me. Which I was, although I rather resented the implication that he'd had to stoop to find me.

”Thank you,” was all I said, however.

”How are things going?” Melissa glanced over at me as she turned the truck off the highway and onto Primrose.

”With Derek? Fine, thank you.”

”Does he still spend all night tinkering with his toys instead of coming to bed?” She smiled reminiscently but not without another quick look at me from under her lashes to gauge my reaction. I kept my face immobile, or as immobile as I could manage.

”No idea. We don't live together.”

”Ah.” It was all she said, but it spoke volumes. I felt myself flush, and forced it back, biting my lip hard. Dammit, I was not going to let this conniving witch get to me.

We pulled onto Becklea after another minute, and I peered out the winds.h.i.+eld at all the excitement as we neared the end of the cul-de-sac. The crowd was even bigger today than yesterday, and I saw several of the same faces, including those belonging to my neighbors. Minus Lionel Kenefick, of course, who was at work down at Devon Highlands. And minus Venetia Rudolph, who was probably keeping an eye on things through her curtains, just like yesterday.

The same two police cruisers were back again today, along with a paler blue state police vehicle. K-9 was written on the back in white letters, and in the distance, back at the tree line on the far left side of the house, I could see a blue-clad trooper and his canine companion sniffing along the property line. From this distance, the dog looked like a beautiful specimen of German shepherd, and Stella the s.h.i.+h tzu was straining at her leash to be allowed to go back there and make friends. Arthur Mattson, yet again deep in conversation with Irina and Denise, kept swaying sideways with her frantic pulls.

There was also, I noticed with a sinking heart, a news van from one of the Portland TV stations parked at the curb. They weren't doing anything exciting at the moment, just desultorily filming the K-9 team inspecting the perimeter of the yard, but if anything happened, or if anyone interview-worthy appeared, I felt certain they'd jump into action. I just hoped they wouldn't want to jump on me.

I needn't have worried. When Melissa pulled the car to a stop behind the K-9 vehicle, the camera zoomed our way and immediately focused on her. I told myself not to take it personally. I hadn't dressed to be on camera, and then I'd been in an accident, while Melissa always looked beautifully groomed and put together. Still, it wasn't easy. I glanced resentfully at the camera on my way past, moving carefully. Everything hurt.

Melissa smiled. ”Hi, Tony. What are you doing here?” They air kissed.

”Got word that your police chief brought in the cadaver dogs.” The TV journalist, forty-something and das.h.i.+ng in Armani, with unnaturally brilliant, black hair and sensuous, slightly too-full lips, seemed happy to explain. ”I thought it might be worth the drive out here, just in case it's another case like John Wayne Gacy. You know me, always hopeful.”

He winked.

My face twisted in disgust. John Wayne Gacy was the worst serial killer in U.S. history. He murdered thirty-three young men and boys back in the 1970s and buried their bodies in the crawls.p.a.ce under his house in the Chi cago suburbs. Only someone with the emotional maturity of a turnip would wish for the same sort of situation here.

Melissa rose to the occasion like a true professional. ”Would you like a comment? On air? My ex-husband owns the house, and he was the one who found the first body. He was also part of the excavation yesterday.”

”Will he talk?” Tony said hopefully. I snorted. Melissa smiled apologetically.

”Better not to ask him, Tony. But you can have me.” She preened.

”Who wouldn't want you, Missy?” Tony said gallantly. I almost gagged.

Leaving the two of them to work out their on-air comment, since I had no authority over what they did anyway, I headed for the backyard and the entrance to the crawls.p.a.ce. I wanted to see my boyfriend. The whole crash had shaken me up, and I craved comfort. I smiled a good morning at the neighbors on my way past but didn't stop to chat, and I waved at Venetia's lace curtains on my way around the corner.

In the crawls.p.a.ce, Wayne and Derek were busy taking down all the temporary floodlights they'd strung yesterday. ”K-9 unit said there's nothing else here,” Wayne explained when he opened the low door for me. ”Just the one body. They're checking the yard now.”

I nodded. ”I saw them. They're working their way around the perimeter. At the rate they're going, in another hour or so they'll probably get over to the side with Miss Rudolph's house.”

Wayne cracked a smile but didn't answer, just stepped aside to let me in. I looked for Derek. He was on the other side of the crawls.p.a.ce, with his back to us, and seemed to be busy with the electrical wires. In fact, he didn't seem to realize I was there at all. It was a little disconcerting, to be honest. If Ray had called, and if Derek knew I'd been in an accident, why wasn't he showing a little more concern?

”Don't worry,” Wayne said, obviously reading my mind or the expression on my face. ”He knows you're OK. Ray was kind enough to a.s.sure him of that. Several times.”

”Oh. Good.”

That was all I got out, because now Derek turned and noticed my presence. And if I'd had occasion to complain about his att.i.tude earlier, now I didn't. He dropped what he was holding and hurried toward me, shoulders hunched in the low crawls.p.a.ce.

I braced myself-he looked like he was thinking of s.n.a.t.c.hing me up and crus.h.i.+ng me against his manly chest-but in the end, he just stopped in front of me, blue eyes intent on my face. ”Avery.”

”Derek,” I answered. To my utter humiliation, my lower lip started trembling and my eyes filled with tears.

”C'mere.” He pulled me into his arms, but gently. I leaned my cheek against the soft cotton of his T-s.h.i.+rt and breathed in his now-familiar scent of citrus shampoo and Ivory soap mixed with wood glue and mineral spirits, while I listened to the steady beat of his heart against my ear. It's amazing how something as small as that can help ground a person.

”I'm sorry about your truck,” I said a minute later, after I had extricated myself from his arms and he had, maybe even reluctantly, let me go.

”It's just a car,” Derek answered. ”What happened?”

I told him and watched the look in his eyes go from upset to angry when I described the car hitting the ditch. ”I'm sorry,” I said wretchedly. ”I did the best I could. I wasn't sure I'd be able to make the turn at the gates, and I didn't want to hit the school bus, so I thought it would be better just to get off the road.”

”The brakes didn't respond?” Wayne interjected. I shook my head.

”I had the brake pads replaced last month,” Derek said, eyes flat and hard. ”Nothing wrong with them then.”

”And the airbag didn't work, either?”

”Good thing I was wearing my seat belt, huh?” I managed a bright smile. Both men glowered.

”Let me know what Peter Cortino says,” Wayne told Derek, who nodded.

”Melissa's out front, talking to a TV journalist from Portland,” I said in an effort to change the subject. ”On camera. You may want to go out there and stop her. Or make a statement or something. He told us he was hoping for another John Wayne Gacy.”

The chief of police rolled his eyes but headed for the crawls.p.a.ce door. Derek was right behind him. ”C'mon, Avery. If Melissa goes on TV and makes this into a case of serial killers and multiple bodies buried on our property, we can forget about ever selling this place.”

”He sounded like he'd love to talk to you,” I said, tagging along behind, ”so maybe you can get him to interview you live, too.”

”Between me and Wayne, we'll get him straightened out.” He held the crawls.p.a.ce door open so I could get out. The K-9 team had reached the back of the property now and was making its slow way along the tree line. The dog alternated sniffing the ground with sniffing the air, while its handler, a young woman, tall and slender, stood patiently by, occasionally moving forward a step when the dog finished smelling its area and moved on.

”Where's Brandon?” I asked. Brandon Thomas hadn't been in the crawls.p.a.ce, and I hadn't seen him out front, either, when I arrived.

Derek tossed his head, causing a streaked lock of hair to fall into his eyes. ”In there.”

”Inside the house?”

He nodded. ”The dog marked inside. Not surprisingly, since there's been lots of dead bodies there. Long ago, though, so he didn't mark strongly. At least that's what Daphne said. She's his handler. Nice girl.”

”So Brandon's looking at the inside of the house, just in case?”

”I told him it was unlikely he'd find anything. We've ripped up all the old flooring and taken down all the old wallpaper. All that's left are the bare bones. No pun intended.”

”I had an idea,” I said. ”Remember that earring I found in the kitchen the other day? The one that was similar to what Shannon was wearing that night at Guido's? Do you think it might have been . . .” I hesitated delicately, ”hers? The skeleton's? Shannon said they were popular four or five years ago, and that everyone had them.”