Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

this is straight out of the camera. I haven't edited it at all," I said, resenting the insinuation.

"We'll see soon enough. Can you find this spot again?" he asked, cutting off further protest about my credibility. He put the unused notebook back in his pocket.

"I'm sure I could. It's down the path at the back of the house." I pointed in the general direction.

"Grab your hiking boots and a flashlight. I'm going to call Linc."

I paused halfway out of my chair. "Why Linc? Why do you have to call Linc? Why Linc?"

He gave me a curious look. As did my parents. "He's the EMT. If this woman is actually there, she may need medical attention."

"If," I echoed. "You really don't believe me."

"In this day and age of Photoshop and filters, I need to see it with my own eyes. No offense." He turned away with the phone to his ear.

Mom huffed an angry breath. "Well, really, how rude. Come on, Peanut. I'll find you a flashlight. George, get your shoes on. You're going with them."

We met Linc and Fang at the head of the path. Armed with powerful flashlights, I led the men into the woods. At the risk of being ridiculous, I stuck close to my father's steady, warm frame. As a light-chaser by profession and by passion, the darkness always unnerved me. Yet another reason I loved New York—it was never fully dark, never fully still.

An owl hooted, and, startled, I stopped on the path. Linc ran right into the back of me, almost knocking me to my knees. He grabbed my arms before I pitched forward.

"Whoa there. You okay?" he asked, steadying me against his broad chest. Being there felt much too comfortable and much too dangerous at the same time. Fang danced around our legs.

"Sorry. I'm a bit spooked." I took a breath and a tentative step forward out of his grasp. I found it easier to breathe when I wasn't so close to him. "I'm not used to so much darkness."

"Ah, New York, right? The city that never sleeps."

I frowned, glad he couldn't see my face. I didn't realize he'd known where I lived. Of course, with a mother like Connie, the whole town probably knew my exact address in Manhattan.

I slowed again as we reached the spot by the reservoir. I pointed, and four light beams followed my finger.

"My girl's no liar," I heard my father mumble. This time, I wished it were true. But visible in the grass, in a perfect, albeit shadowy, replica of the photograph on my laptop, was the body of a woman.

With a "Fang, stay," Linc launched into action, carefully picking his way through the tall grasses and pricker bushes to kneel beside the woman. Chief Duncan didn't follow. I don't know why his inaction surprised me, but it did. He probably didn't want to get his shiny shoes dirty.

Linc looked toward the group. Even though I knew she was dead—she'd been lying unmoving for hours—when Linc gave a small shake of his head, my knees buckled a little.

My father's strong arms wrapped around me. "Got you, Princess," he whispered into my hair.

"I hoped I was wrong. I hoped it was a mannequin."

"It's never a mannequin," my father quipped.

Chief Duncan called it in on his radio. The Piney Ridge police force consisted of the chief and two deputies, none of which were properly equipped to handle a dead body in the woods. Hopefully, he also called in the state police. At least they would have crime scene techs.

Linc stood and walked back over to us, a dazed and pinched expression on his usually jovial face.

"I know her," he said, stunned. Fang whimpered at his tone. "I mean, it's dark and she's pretty messed up, but I'm like ninety-nine percent sure."

Chief Duncan took him by the arm and led him a little away. They talked in low murmurs. Despite my better judgment, despite knowing I would absolutely regret it later, I inched closer to the body, moving my flashlight beam to her face.

Missy Poledark Vandenburg.

I gasped. Except for the unnatural red bloom spreading on her chest, she could've been sleeping. Hands on my shoulders twisted me around so I faced away from the body. I leaned into my father's chest.

"Why would you do that? Why would you look?" Linc asked from behind us. I looked over Dad's shoulder to see Linc's stormy gray eyes full of concern.

"I found her. I had to know. It's Missy," I said.

"Yeah. That's what I thought too."

I saw an unnamed emotion pass across Linc's face. I didn't even like Missy, and I felt terrible. Linc had been friends with her—dated her even—he must be feeling ten times what I was.

"I'm sorry, Linc. I'm so sorry."

He waved away my sympathy. I saw him visibly put emotions aside and transform back into first-responder mode. Unfortunately, I didn't have that ability.

"She was murdered, Linc," I said, trembling in earnest now. Ice coursed through my veins and embedded in my bones. "Her chest. All that blood."

"Linc," Chief Duncan called. "Take Alex and George back to the house. Then wait at the trailhead for the others. I'll wait here."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for them to come in from the park?" Linc asked. "I can drive around and meet them there instead."

"Oh, uh, sure. That's fine. I'll radio to let them know."

Linc gave my arm a little squeeze. "We'll take care of her now."

Dad took my shoulders to guide me up the path toward the house. Linc and Fang followed close behind.

"Alex, I'm going to want to ask you some more questions," the chief said. "Don't go anywhere."

I nodded. "The only place I'm going is into a hot shower."

I wanted to wash the day away. Wash the memory