It was just the two of them. Morrelli rubbed his arms as if to ward off a chill. He looked uncomfortable, and Maggie knew she was the cause of his discomfort. Perhaps she should have called. She wasn’t good at that etiquette stuff, and it was probably expected in Platte City, Nebraska.
“After almost forty-eight straight hours, we decided to take a break today.” Again, he seemed eager to explain away his appearance and the silent department. “I really didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow. You know, it being Sunday.”
Maggie found herself wondering if he had been appointed or elected. In either case, his boyish charm had probably outweighed his competence.
“My superiors gave me the impression that time may be important in this case. You are still holding the body for my examination, aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course. He’s…” Morrelli rubbed a hand across his bristled face. Maggie noticed a small scar, a puckered white line that blemished his otherwise perfect jaw. “We’re using the hospital morgue.” He dug his fingers into his eyes. Maggie wondered if it was simple exhaustion or an attempt to block out the image that probably haunted his sleep. The report indicated that Morrelli was the one who had found the boy.
“If you’d like, I can take you there,” he added.
“Thanks. Yes, I will need to do that. But first, there’s someplace else I’d like you to take me.”
“Sure. You probably want to unpack. Are you staying here in town?”
“Actually, that’s not what I meant. I’d like to see the scene of the crime.” She watched Morrelli’s face grow pale. “I’d like you to show me where you found the body.”
Chapter 11
The pasture road dissolved into torn grass and jagged ruts. Tire tracks crisscrossed each other, stamped into the mud. Nick shifted the Jeep into second gear and the vehicle strained forward, the tires cutting still more deeply into the mud.
“I don’t suppose anyone realized all this traffic in and out of here may have destroyed evidence?”
Nick shot Agent O’Dell a frustrated look. He was getting tired of being reminded of his mistakes.
“By the time we discovered the body, at least two vehicles had been through here. Yeah, we realized we may have messed up the killer’s tracks.”
He glanced at her again as he tried to keep the Jeep from sliding into the worst parts of the mud. Though she acted older, he guessed she was only in her late twenties, maybe earlier thirties-much too young to be an expert. Her age wasn’t the only thing that disarmed him. Despite her cool, abrupt manner she was very attractive. And even the conservative-style suit couldn’t hide what he suspected was a knockout body. Under ordinary circumstances he’d be preparing a full-throttled charm assault. But, Jesus, there was something about her that sent him into a tailspin. She carried herself with such poise, such confidence and self-assurance. She acted as though she knew what she was doing, which only made him more aware of his own lack of expertise. It was annoying as hell.
The Jeep jerked to a stop in front of the shelterbelt of trees, and immediately the nausea of that night struck Nick. The light-headedness surprised him. It was getting to be embarrassing. He heard O’Dell struggle with the door handle, the familiar click of metal against metal.
“Wait, that door sticks. Here, let me.” Without thinking he reached across the seat, leaning against her. His hand was on the door handle before he realized his body hovered over her, his face dangerously close to hers. She pressed herself into her seat to avoid touching him, and he immediately jerked his hand away, returning to his own side.
“I’ll get it from the outside.”
“Good idea.”
Outside the Jeep, Nick berated himself. What a stupid thing to do. Not very professional. He was certainly living up to his reputation as the incompetent playboy sheriff.
He sloshed around to the other side of the Jeep. Back at the office he had taken a quick shower, put on jeans and traded the running shoes for the same boots he had worn that night. Dry mud still clung to the expensive leather. They were instantly devoured again by the sticky ooze. The gray clouds rolled in, threatening to burst at any moment and guaranteeing the ooze would stay for days ahead.
The Jeep’s door opened easily from the outside. Would O’Dell think his stupid move in the car was a cheap excuse just to get close to her? It didn’t matter. Something told Nick this woman was immune to his charm, what little he seemed to have left.
“Hold on.” He stopped her again. “I think I have some boots back here.” He climbed inside the doorway, stopping in midair as he realized the inappropriateness of his actions, again. He avoided her eyes and waited until she slid to the other side and was a safe distance away. Then he stretched over the seat. Thankfully, the rubber work boots were within arm’s reach.
“Are you sure those are necessary?” She looked at the black boots as though they were shackles.
“You’ll never get anywhere in this mud. It’s worse by the riverbank.”
He had already begun undoing the laces. He handed her a boot and began on the other, distracted when she slipped off her expensive leather flats. Clothed only in sheer socks, her feet were small, slender and delicate. He watched her slide her foot into the oversize boot. It swallowed her foot, and even her attempt at tucking in her pant leg wouldn’t guarantee that the huge rubber boot would stay attached.
As they began their hike through the mud, he was impressed that she kept up with him despite her clumsy footwear and her shorter stride. The area was still cordoned off by yellow tape strung from trees. Sections were torn, flapping in the breeze, a breeze that grew stronger as the fast-moving clouds rolled overhead. Nick pulled up the collar of his jacket. His hair was still damp. A shiver slipped down his back. He glanced at O’Dell, who wore only a wool suit jacket and matching trousers. She buttoned the jacket but showed no other sign of feeling the cutting cold.
He watched her step carefully around the impression of the small body that still remained pressed into the grass. She crouched down, examined the blades of grass, scooped up a fingerful of mud and sniffed it. Nick winced, remembering the rancid smell. His skin still felt raw from scrubbing the stench from his body.
O’Dell stood and looked out at the river. The bank was only three or four feet away. The unusually high waters churned, slapping at the banks.
“Where did you find the medallion?” she asked, without looking at him.
He walked to the spot and found the white stake one of his deputies had placed there. “Here,” he said, pointing to the plastic marker sunk into the mud, barely visible.
She looked at the spot, then back at the boy’s resting place. It was only a couple feet away.
“It was the boy’s. His mother identified it,” Nick explained, still regretting that he couldn’t give it back to Laura Alverez when she had pleaded. “The chain was broken. It must have gotten pulled off in the struggle.”
“Except there was no struggle.”
“Excuse me?” He looked back at her for an explanation, but she was on her knees again with a small tape measure stretched between the marker and the pressed grass.
“There wasn’t a struggle,” she repeated calmly, getting to her feet and wiping at the leaves and mud she had gotten on her trousers,
“What makes you say that?” He was annoyed by her matter-of-fact attitude. She had been here only minutes and seemed to have it all figured out.
“You fell here when you tripped, right?” she said, pointing to the torn grass and the indent in the mud.
Nick winced again. Even his report made him look like a putz. “That’s right,” he admitted.
“The trampling around the perimeter is obviously from your deputies.”
“And the FBI,” Nick added defensively, though he knew she wasn’t concerned with those details. “They were in charge until we ruled out a kidnapping.”
“Other than this spot and where the body lay, there is no torn grass or any beaten down. The victim’s hands and feet were bound when you found him?”
“Yeah, back behind him.”
