town with him, I made some calls. I gave out Beth’s description to law enforcement officers I know in neighboring towns and cities. Unofficially. I didn’t give out Beth’s name. I put out the word to call me if anyone matched.”
The implication was alive or dead. He’d just gotten a call he hadn’t wanted to tell her about and despite the hot sun beating down on her, Clare shivered.
Jake cupped her shoulders in a tight, strong grip. He remained silent. It became apparent that he had no intention of saying more.
“The rest,” she said.
His gaze on her grew intent. His grip that already felt as if he were pressing to the bone tightened. “A body of a woman was found about a week ago in Russellville, a town in Georgia. No ID. She’s been in the Kenton county morgue tagged as a Jane Doe. She matches the description I gave out for Beth.”
Clare shuddered.
“I’m going to drive down there. Once I know something, I’ll call you.” He crouched so that their gazes were level. “Clare, I will call you as soon as I know.”
Clare’s throat had dried and she swallowed several times before she could speak. She shook her head. “I’m going with you.”
“No.”
She broke his hold on her and stepped away from him, headed for her car. “See you in Kenton County.”
He reached out and snagged her by the elbow. “You don’t want to go down there.”
She faced him. “Do you really think I could wait here?”
He held her gaze, then exhaled deeply. “I need to make arrangements for Sammie. Give me a few minutes.”
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later Clare joined Jake in the front seat of his SUV. He hadn’t shaved, a day’s growth of stubble darkened his lean jaw, but he’d washed up and changed into clean jeans and a shirt and topped off the outfit with a sport jacket. As he shifted his arm to the steering wheel, Clare glimpsed his shoulder holster beneath the jacket.
He started the engine. The radio was tuned to a fifties rock station and Elvis, singing “Jailhouse Rock.” Jake reduced the volume and backed out of the driveway.
Clare sat tight-lipped, looking out of the windows at the houses they passed. People sat on verandahs, waving paper fans and sipping from tall glasses and bottles. All was normal, yet here she was on her way to view a body that might be Beth.
Jake left Farley and steered his vehicle onto the interstate. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she felt a little dizzy, the feeling enhanced as the SUV picked up speed and the traffic outside her window blurred.
For the most part, they drove in silence, exchanging the odd monosyllabic word, letting the radio and the whoosh of oncoming vehicles provide sound.
Jake had had the presence of mind to bring along a couple of bottles of water. He uncapped one, held it out to her. She shook her head, afraid that even water would prove too much for her unsettled stomach.
After about three hours of driving, Jake pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
“Steve, we’re about thirty minutes out. Beth Ryder’s sister is with me.” Jake fell silent while he listened to the man on the other end of the line. “Okay. See you there.”
Clare didn’t ask for a summary of his conversation. It wasn’t hard to put together that Jake had made arrangements to view the body with the cop who’d alerted him earlier.
All too soon, yet not soon enough, he pulled into the Kenton County Morgue parking lot.
The morgue was in the basement of a small hospital. Steve Sumner, a lanky man with a receding hairline and a full red beard, met them in the short corridor. Jake made quick introductions. Clare supposed she muttered an adequate response, though she couldn’t remember what it was she’d said.
“We don’t have a camera to view the body,” Sumner said. “Not in the budget at this time. Clare, you’re going to have to take a look at it up close.” Sumner tugged at his tie. “The body was found in a dumpster. It’s pretty banged up, including the face.”
“I’m making
The implication was alive or dead. He’d just gotten a call he hadn’t wanted to tell her about and despite the hot sun beating down on her, Clare shivered.
Jake cupped her shoulders in a tight, strong grip. He remained silent. It became apparent that he had no intention of saying more.
“The rest,” she said.
His gaze on her grew intent. His grip that already felt as if he were pressing to the bone tightened. “A body of a woman was found about a week ago in Russellville, a town in Georgia. No ID. She’s been in the Kenton county morgue tagged as a Jane Doe. She matches the description I gave out for Beth.”
Clare shuddered.
“I’m going to drive down there. Once I know something, I’ll call you.” He crouched so that their gazes were level. “Clare, I will call you as soon as I know.”
Clare’s throat had dried and she swallowed several times before she could speak. She shook her head. “I’m going with you.”
“No.”
She broke his hold on her and stepped away from him, headed for her car. “See you in Kenton County.”
He reached out and snagged her by the elbow. “You don’t want to go down there.”
She faced him. “Do you really think I could wait here?”
He held her gaze, then exhaled deeply. “I need to make arrangements for Sammie. Give me a few minutes.”
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later Clare joined Jake in the front seat of his SUV. He hadn’t shaved, a day’s growth of stubble darkened his lean jaw, but he’d washed up and changed into clean jeans and a shirt and topped off the outfit with a sport jacket. As he shifted his arm to the steering wheel, Clare glimpsed his shoulder holster beneath the jacket.
He started the engine. The radio was tuned to a fifties rock station and Elvis, singing “Jailhouse Rock.” Jake reduced the volume and backed out of the driveway.
Clare sat tight-lipped, looking out of the windows at the houses they passed. People sat on verandahs, waving paper fans and sipping from tall glasses and bottles. All was normal, yet here she was on her way to view a body that might be Beth.
Jake left Farley and steered his vehicle onto the interstate. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she felt a little dizzy, the feeling enhanced as the SUV picked up speed and the traffic outside her window blurred.
For the most part, they drove in silence, exchanging the odd monosyllabic word, letting the radio and the whoosh of oncoming vehicles provide sound.
Jake had had the presence of mind to bring along a couple of bottles of water. He uncapped one, held it out to her. She shook her head, afraid that even water would prove too much for her unsettled stomach.
After about three hours of driving, Jake pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
“Steve, we’re about thirty minutes out. Beth Ryder’s sister is with me.” Jake fell silent while he listened to the man on the other end of the line. “Okay. See you there.”
Clare didn’t ask for a summary of his conversation. It wasn’t hard to put together that Jake had made arrangements to view the body with the cop who’d alerted him earlier.
All too soon, yet not soon enough, he pulled into the Kenton County Morgue parking lot.
The morgue was in the basement of a small hospital. Steve Sumner, a lanky man with a receding hairline and a full red beard, met them in the short corridor. Jake made quick introductions. Clare supposed she muttered an adequate response, though she couldn’t remember what it was she’d said.
“We don’t have a camera to view the body,” Sumner said. “Not in the budget at this time. Clare, you’re going to have to take a look at it up close.” Sumner tugged at his tie. “The body was found in a dumpster. It’s pretty banged up, including the face.”
“I’m making
Similar Books
