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

of Missy's lifeless body from the inside of my eyelids. I'd seen violent death before—on location in far away war-torn cities. But never this unexpected. Never this close to home. Never someone I knew personally. And although I didn't particularly like Missy Poledark, I'd never wish this on her. I wouldn't even wish this on Wreck-it Rick.

Mom enveloped me and Dad in her arms as we arrived back on the doorstep. She fussed and fumed and fed. I ate without tasting, mechanically and only because my mother stood over me until I did so.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announced when I thought I ate enough to satisfy my mother's fretting. "Let me know when the chief comes back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

 

Hot water, as hot as I could stand it without my skin melting off, cascaded over my head and down my back as I stood under the spray. When I closed my eyes, I saw Missy's lifeless body, the dark red stain blossoming on her chest. When I opened my eyes, I got water in them. The whole situation felt a little like my life right now—damned if you do, damned if you don't. Still, I stood there until the temperature turned cold, then forced myself to turn off the water and function as a human again.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I could hear voices downstairs—more voices than just my parents'. The police must be back. I threw on a sweatshirt and some leggings—I still couldn't seem to warm my bones—ran a brush through my wet hair and joined the group in the kitchen.

I scanned the crowd huddled there. Dad sat stoically at the table; Mom stood vibrating behind him. Chief Duncan lounged across from my father, leaning back in the chair, feet outstretched and a coffee mug in his beefy hand. A young woman in a Piney Ridge PD uniform stood in the corner of the room holding a notepad. An unfamiliar man sat next to Chief Duncan, wearing a sports jacket and a five-o'clock shadow. Unlike Chief Duncan, this man sat forward in his chair, nodding as my father spoke and taking notes on a small notepad.

When I walked farther into the room, all eyes turned to me. The man in the jacket stood to shake my hand.

"Detective James Spaulding with the Maryland State Police. I'll be working in tandem with Piney Ridge PD on this investigation. Mind if we ask you a few questions, Ms. Lightwood?" he asked.

His handshake was firm, his eyes sharp. I immediately relaxed a little. He'd clearly done this before. I trusted him a heck of a lot more than I trusted Chief Duncan, who did nothing but take another sip of coffee when I entered.

"Sure. I'm happy to help," I said. I glanced again at the woman in the corner.

"I'm Officer Martinez," the woman said when I caught her eye. She pointed at the badge pinned to her uniform. "With the Piney Ridge PD."

I gave her a nod, mustered up a small smile, then turned my focus back to Detective Spaulding, who held out a chair for me to sit. When I did, my mother came and stood behind me. She placed a hot mug of tea in my hands. I sipped automatically.

"Can you tell me how you found the body?" Detective Spaulding asked.

"I saw it in a picture I took," I explained. I told him about my photo walk. He interjected here and there to ask some clarifying questions, but mainly let me talk unimpeded. When I got to the part about downloading the pictures onto my computer, Chief Duncan sat up in his chair, suddenly interested.

"I noticed something in the back of the picture and zoomed in to see how easy it would be to edit out," I said.

"Ah-ha! So you admit to altering photographs," Chief Duncan blurted out.

"I already told you I know how to use photo manipulation software. It isn't a secret. I haven't used any on that picture yet," I explained again. My shocked stupor moved quickly into annoyance. If he questioned my integrity again, irritation would undoubtedly become full-blown anger.

"You're a photographer? Professionally?" Detective Spaulding asked, pulling my attention back to him. He was a little older than me, or maybe that was the stress of the job, but had a mollifying way about him underneath the ripples of power and confidence. Some, who were not in the middle of an interrogation, might even call him dark, brooding, and ruggedly handsome. The scar running across his chin added to his mystery. He screamed cop whereas Chief Duncan screamed Homer Simpson.

"Yes. A photojournalist mostly, so I don't manipulate those photos at all," I said pointedly, staring at Chief Duncan. "The photos from today were for my stock photography page. I put them up on a host site where advertisers, bloggers, and authors can buy the rights to use the pictures. It's a profitable side hustle. Although I can manipulate stock pictures as much as I want to, I haven't gotten to that stage in the process yet for today's shoot. I was doing an initial cull to see which ones were the most marketable," I explained.

"So, you noticed something in the back of the photograph?" Detective Spaulding prompted, easing me back into my story. He kept his alert brown eyes trained on mine.

"Yes. I thought it was a bit of trash or a bald spot in the grass. It pulled my eye away from the main subject. I zoomed in a little closer and realized it was a woman's leg."

I shuddered as the icy fingers of dread gripped my bones once again. My mother's grasp on my shoulders tightened. She leaned over me to press the hot mug into my hands once again.

"We decided to call the police," my mother said, picking up