As busy as her morning was, she managed to squeeze in a call to Tom Brannon. He’d come back out to the Ruins the night before to take possession of the watch, bagging and tagging both the timepiece and the green box into evidence. Then early this morning he’d driven over to Dr. Nance’s house to confirm ownership with Dessie Dupre.
According to Dessie, the watch had been missing for years. Dr. Nance had assumed a worker who’d had access to the house had taken it, though nothing had ever been proved. The theft had been reported to the local police department, but the culprit was never found. That was all Dessie could tell him about the watch, Tom said. She’d been too upset by news of Dr. Nance’s death to be of much help otherwise.
He and Nikki spoke for a few more minutes and then she went back to work.
By the time she finally drove home, twilight had fallen and a few stars twinkled out. She parked in the garage and went through the side door into the backyard. A mild breeze stirred the wind chimes that hung from a tree branch, and she paused at the bottom of the back steps to enjoy the evening air.
The former owner of the property had been an avid gardener, and every day when Nikki got home from work, she tried to take a few moments to savor the fruits of her predecessor’s labors. The roses that grew next to the house were especially fragrant in the breeze and she closed her eyes as she drew in the heady aroma.
Tonight more than ever she was thankful for her little sanctuary. In her line of work, it was important to have a quiet place where she could unwind at the end of the day. She’d learned a long time ago how to compartmentalize, but she was vulnerable in her grief and unwanted memories came calling, threatening to lure her back into the gloomy despair of her youth.
She’d come a long way since those miserable days, in no small part because of Dr. Nance’s guidance and encouragement. He’d be the last person who’d want her to wallow. She could almost hear him scolding her in that teasing, pragmatic way he had. Life is for the living, Nik. Say your goodbyes and get on with it.
Easier said than done, of course. Her personal loss aside, as the Nance County coroner, she still had too many questions about his death.
A bat swooped low, drawing her attention skyward. She watched the dusky horizon for a moment longer before climbing the steps to the enclosed back porch that now served as her laundry room. During the renovation, she’d had washer and dryer connections installed, along with a walk-in shower. She could throw her clothes in the washer and scrub the scent of death from her skin and hair before ever setting foot in her house.
Pulling off her T-shirt and shimmying out of her jeans and underwear, she tossed everything in the washer, stepped into the shower and stood under the spray, as hot as she could stand it, scrubbing every inch of her skin and scalp until she could smell nothing but the slightly medicinal aroma of her soap and shampoo. She followed up with a subtle floral fragrance that reminded her of the wild roses that grew in profusion over her back fence.
Wrapped in a towel, she fished clean clothes out of the dryer and dressed right there on the back porch. She wiped down the shower and fiddled with a broken window shade until she realized she was putting off going inside the empty house. Out here she could keep her mind occupied. Inside, she had nothing to do but think.
She went back outside and sat down on the steps, once again letting the dreamy scent of the roses wash over her. Melancholy descended, along with a strange restlessness. She didn’t want to dwell on Dr. Nance’s death or the upcoming autopsy, so she dug deeper, allowing her mother’s specter to come creeping over her defenses.
Nikki didn’t think about her parents often. She’d long ago accepted the reality that she would probably never see either of them again. They could both be dead, for all she knew. But sometimes in her weaker moments, she would close her eyes and conjure the two of them together.
Her father had left first, sneaking away in the middle of the night and taking the old Buick and his last paycheck with him. Bitter and broke, Nikki’s mother, Joy, had had no choice but to go crawling back home to her mother. She’d taken her old bedroom at the back of the house, relegating her ten-year-old daughter to the lumpy couch in the family room. It wouldn’t have been so bad for Nikki if her grandfather had still been alive to temper her grandmother’s sharp tongue and her mother’s resentment. As it was, she found herself hiding out most of the time. Eventually, the three generations had fallen into an uneasy routine until Nikki had come home from school one day to find her mother throwing clothes into a battered suitcase. Nikki remembered that final conversation—every word, every nuance—as if it were yesterday.
Why are you packing, Mama? Are we moving out?
I wish, but where do you think we’d go? Your daddy took the car and every last cent we had when he left. I’ve managed to save a few bucks from my tips at the diner, so I’m going away with a friend for a little while. I need to get my head on straight and I can’t do that here.
Can I come with you?
Not this time. Grandma’s old and lonely. She needs you.
She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t even like me. And she sure as hell doesn’t want me here.
You watch your mouth around her, you
