Futile, I know.
I read the message again. Chloe started whining. I put up one finger. She stopped whining but started doing her glance-at-me-and-the-door again.
I hadn’t heard from Sheriff Lowell in eight years, but I still remembered him looming over my hospital bed, his face etched with doubt and cynicism.
What could he want after all this time?
I picked up the phone and dialed. A voice answered on the first ring.
“Dr. Beck, thank you for calling me back.”
I am not a big fan of caller ID—too Big Brother for my tastes. I cleared my throat and skipped the pleasantries. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“I’m in the area,” he said. “I’d very much like to stop by and see you, if that’s okay.”
“Is this a social call?” I asked.
“No, not really.”
He waited for me to say something. I didn’t.
“Would now be convenient?” Lowell asked.
“You mind telling me what it’s about?”
“I’d rather wait until—”
“And I’d rather you didn’t.”
I could feel my grip on the receiver tighten.
“Okay, Dr. Beck, I understand.” He cleared his throat in a way that indicated he was trying to buy some time. “Maybe you saw on the news that two bodies were found in Riley County.”
I hadn’t. “What about them?”
“They were found near your property.”
“It’s not my property. It’s my grandfather’s.”
“But you’re his legal custodian, right?”
“No,” I said. “My sister is.”
“Perhaps you could call her then. I’d like to speak with her too.”
“The bodies were not found on Lake Charmaine, right?”
“That’s correct. We found them on the western neighboring lot. County property actually.”
“Then what do you want from us?”
There was a pause. “Look, I’ll be there in an hour. Please see if you can get Linda to come by, will you?”
He hung up.
The eight years had not been kind to Sheriff Lowell, but then again, he hadn’t been Mel Gibson to begin with. He was a mangy mutt of a man with features so extra-long hangdog that he made Nixon look as though he’d gotten a nip and tuck. The end of his nose was bulbous to the nth degree. He kept taking out a much-used hanky, carefully unfolding it, rubbing his nose, carefully refolding it, jamming it deep into his back pocket.
Linda had arrived. She leaned forward on the couch, ready to shield me. This was how she often sat. She was one of those people who gave you their full, undivided attention. She fixed you with those big brown eyes and you could look nowhere else. I’m definitely biased, but Linda is the best person I know. Corny, yes, but the fact that she exists gives me hope for this world. The fact that she loves me gives me whatever else I have left.
We sat in my grandparents’ formal living room, which I usually do my utmost to avoid. The room was stale, creepy, and still had that old-people’s-sofa smell. I found it hard to breathe. Sheriff Lowell took his time getting situated. He gave his nose a few more swipes, took out a pocket pad, licked his finger, found his page. He offered us his friendliest smile and started.
“Do you mind telling me when you were last at the lake?”
“I was there last month,” Linda said.
But his eyes were on me. “And you, Dr. Beck?”
“Eight years ago.”
He nodded as though he’d expected that response. “As I explained on the phone, we found two bodies near Lake Charmaine.”
“Have you identified them yet?” Linda asked.
“No.”
“Isn’t that odd?”
Lowell thought about that one while leaning forward to pull out the hanky again. “We know that they’re both male, both full-grown, both white. We’re now searching through missing persons to see what we can come up with. The bodies are rather old.”
“How old?” I asked.
Sheriff Lowell again found my eyes. “Hard to say. Forensics is still running tests, but we figure they’ve been dead at least five years. They were buried pretty good too. We’d have never found them except there was a landslide from that record rainfall, and a bear came up with an arm.”
My sister and I looked at each other.
“Excuse me?” Linda said.
Sheriff Lowell nodded. “A hunter shot a bear and found a bone next to the body. It’d been in the bear’s mouth. Turned out to be a human arm. We traced it back. Took some time, I can tell you. We’re still excavating the area.”
“You think there may be more bodies?”
“Can’t say for sure.”
I sat back. Linda stayed focused. “So are you here to get our permission to dig on Lake Charmaine property?”
“In part.”
We waited for him to say more. He cleared his throat and looked at me again. “Dr. Beck, you’re blood type B positive, isn’t that right?”
I opened my mouth, but Linda put a protective hand on my knee. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.
“We found other things,” he said. “At the grave site.”
“What other things?”
“I’m sorry. That’s confidential.”
“Then get the hell out,” I said.
Lowell did not seem particularly surprised by my outburst. “I’m just trying to conduct—”
“I said, get out.”
Sheriff Lowell didn’t move. “I know that your wife’s murderer has already been brought to justice,” he said. “And I know it must hurt like hell to bring this all up again.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I said.
“That’s not my intent.”
“Eight years ago you thought I killed her.”
“That’s not true. You were her husband. In such cases, the odds of a family member’s involvement—”
“Maybe if you didn’t waste time with that crap, you would have found her before—” I jerked back, feeling myself choking up. I turned away. Damn. Damn him. Linda reached for me, but I moved away.
“My job was to explore every possibility,” he droned on. “We had the federal authorities helping us. Even your father-in-law and his brother were kept informed of all developments. We did everything we could.”
I couldn’t bear to hear another word. “What the hell do you want here, Lowell?”