Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins) (3 page)

“I’m afraid the details aren’t something I want to get into over the phone. I was hoping you could come here. I have you listed as the next of kin.”

“I live in Seattle, Detective.”

“I’m aware of that. There are some extenuating circumstances here.”

“What kind of extenuating circumstances?” Her heart began to pound nervously.

“How frank do you want me to be?” he asked quietly.

“Very frank,” she decided aloud. But she wasn’t so sure inside.

“Your aunt was murdered, Ms. Tavish. You should also know that your half-brother, Devon,
has been arrested for her murder.”

Eyes wide, Roxy nearly dropped the phone. She was at a loss for words again. There had to be some kind of mistake.

“I understand that you must be in shock right now. Never the less, I need to have you come here. There are several issues that involve you, including custody of your other brother, Dylan.” His voice lowered and he cleared his throat. “Can you assure me that you’ll be on your way here?”

“TAVISH!” Litowski’s roar became louder.

“I apologize for calling you at work,” the detective finally said, when she still didn’t answer. “I realize that you must be upset right now. I tried your cell phone number first but there was no answer. As you can imagine, this situation is rather urgent.”

“There is obviously some kind of mistake here. I can’t help you, Detective.”

“There’s no mistake, Ms. Tavish. Your fourteen-year-old brother is behind bars right now, moments away from being charged with murder. I don’t think I need to tell you the seriousness of these
charges.”

God.
Devon
. Little Devon, with big blue eyes, round and innocent and carefree. At least they had been the last time she’d seen him. He’d been four at the time. And then she’d walked out of his life—walked out of Dylan’s life too. He’d barely been two. Pain squeezed her heart. She’d always felt selfish for leaving her brothers behind when she’d run away. She’d thought of them often, though she’d never contacted them. She’d always figured they were better off without her around. Maybe she had been wrong.

“Ms. Tavish, are you still there?”

“I can’t just get up and leave,” she finally said quietly. “I have a job, a home. I have a life.”

“Your brothers don’t have any of those things right now. I wouldn’t be calling you if I had any alternative.”

Still reeling from the news she’d received, she grimaced as Litowski’s red face poked around the opening of her cubicle. “Pack your bags. You’re through. Your last check will be mailed. And don’t expect a full one. I’ll be docking your time
accordingly.” He was gone as quickly as he had appeared, taking with him, her only means of paying her bills.

Defeat sank in and she felt the moisture in her eyes before she could stop it. She now had no car and no job. And apparently, no once beloved aunt.

“Ms. Tavish?” the detective prodded again, interrupting her self-pity.

Instead of answering him, she let the telephone drop into its cradle, laid her head down on her desk, and gave into the urge she’d had since eleven that morning, to cry.

THREE

Roxy had made several spur of the moment decisions in her life, none of which had worked out to her advantage. One had been the decision to leave Cavern Creek to begin with, at the tender age of sixteen, with not a penny to her name or a plan for her future. She’d wondered more than once over the years, if leaving the small town had been a mistake. After all, again and again, she found herself starting over—looking for work, trying to find a place to live, trying to survive.

No longer a sixteen-year-old, running from her past, she wanted to believe she knew what was best for herself—for her situation.

Fortunately, she’d never had to factor anyone else into her unlucky equation—until now.

So here she was—likely making another bad choice for herself—back in Cavern Creek, where
her nightmares had all started.

She heaved her large duffel bag from the bus terminal’s baggage claim, frustrated.

Three days before, she’d had a job, an apartment and a car. Not only that, she’d had an aunt, even though she hadn’t talked to the woman in a year. She’d also had the illusion that her younger brothers, who she’d figured out were now on the verge of being thirteen and fifteen, had grown up to be smart and respectable young men. That illusion was gone. One of them was being charged with murder. The murder of their aunt, no less. It was unreal.

After emptying her desk and packing her things, Roxy had walked out of the Chronicle offices with as much dignity as she could muster. She’d gone home, only to find a message on her machine saying her VW was totaled. Nothing short of a new engine was going to make it run again. Her car’s fate was abruptly decided.

At that moment, she’d realized how little meaning she had to her life. She’d sucked down several beers and come to the conclusion that the
only real purpose she could cling to anymore was tied to her brothers, Dylan and Devon—even if she had walked out on them ten years earlier.

Now, as Roxy stepped out onto the pavement in Spokane, she grimaced. It was June and the air was hot and dry. Usually the seasons changed rather abruptly around these parts. Summer to fall, and then a ravaging winter of snow and ice.

Setting her bag down, Roxy reached for her ringing cell phone. She knew it was Myles calling. She’d explained to him two days earlier that she was going out of town for a while. She hadn’t told him where. After all, no one she was acquainted with now knew anything about her past, including the fact that she had two half-brothers she hadn’t seen in ten years. She’d told Myles she’d grown up in Tacoma and that her parents had both died. Part of that lie was actually the truth. Her parents were both dead.

“I’m here,” she answered, after connecting the call. She squinted against the late afternoon sun.

“The question is
where
are you?” Myles asked, slightly miffed. “And why won’t you tell me about
the
why
?”

Myles was a good friend. In all the years she’d been running around, she’d never been sorry to leave an acquaintance behind. Hell, she’d never gotten close to anyone enough to call them a real friend before. But Myles was a friend and a good one. Lying to him or keeping things from him bothered her. All the same, she put her poker face on. “It’s a long story. If you can take care of the apartment, I’ll be back. I just have to sort through some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I told you the other night. Personal stuff.”

“You don’t have any family. How personal can it be? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Myles raised his voice. “Because if you are, maybe I can help.”

“Calm down, Myles. You’re being dramatic.”

“Well, ever since that cop called, you’ve been like this. I know you lost your job and that had to hurt, but—”

“Myles, I’m fine. I just have something I need to take care of. You know I’m fine or I wouldn’t be
calling you.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” Myles said matter-of-factly. “I thought we were closer than this.”

She felt a pang of regret. “You’re my best friend. I swear if I need you, I’ll let you know.”

“Are you running from your finances? Because if you are, I can loan you some money.”

“I can handle my bills.” It was a lie, but the current state of her finances was the least of her worries right now. “Look, I have to go. I’ll be in touch, okay? Just grab my mail for me and keep an eye on the place if you can. The rent’s paid through the end of the month. I dropped the check off a few days ago.”

Myles started to argue but she disconnected before he had the chance to say much. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and picked her bag up. The phone rang again, but she ignored it, intent only on hailing a cab.

The commute to Cavern Creek from Spokane was only about a thirty minute ride this time of day. In spite of the fact that she hadn’t been on this route
for over ten years, it felt like it had only been a day. The winding highway was a two-laner, surrounded by wheat fields as far as the eye could see. She remembered riding this road as a child and thinking the wheat swaying in the wind reminded her of dancing ballerinas, the way it swayed back and forth with a kind of grace.

She didn’t find the fields very peaceful anymore. They signified a road that lead to a past she had long ago left behind. A past she wasn’t sure she could deal with at all, least of all under this type of circumstance.

The cab driver kept up some casual banter, asking where she was from and how long she was staying. She avoided his questions, saying only that she was visiting friends.

By the time they reached the edge of town, his endless prattle was unnerving her as much as the passing scenery. She recognized the main street of town, its architecture still exactly the same as it had been ten years ago.

She ordered the cabbie to pull the car over and quickly climbed out, grimacing at the familiar smell
and feel of her hometown. It was almost as if time had stood still.

She paid the cab driver, wincing as the stash in her wallet shrank considerably. She was going to be in financial ruin very quickly, that was for sure. Her last paycheck wouldn’t be in the mail until Friday, which was four days away. Not only that, it had been docked several hours according to Myles, who had snooped into payroll for her. It wasn’t going to do her much good, in other words. She was going to need a job, and soon.

Somehow that fact seemed easy to push into the back of her mind compared to the problem she had to deal with now with her brothers.

The town hall loomed up in front of her, its large cement pillars somewhat intimidating for a small town like Cavern Creek. She knew the police department was housed behind the large glass double doors in front. A division of the Spokane city department, the substation housed ten or twelve cops, including a desk person. She remembered when the change from the sheriff’s department to the substation had occurred. She’d been twelve at
the time. Her father had been against the restructuring, but it had been a bureaucratic thing.

She felt sadness for the fact that the change in the department had been the beginning of the end for her father professionally. He’d retired a few years later, and lost himself in a deep depression.

Forcing her thoughts back to the present, she let out a sigh of determination. She would have to handle this. Regardless of the memories surrounding her childhood, Dylan and Devon needed her. Sad as it was, she was all they had left.

She picked up her duffel bag and shouldered her way past one of the glass doors, and into the not so spacious lobby. There was an elevator to the right that led upstairs to the mayor’s office and two more glass doors on the left that led to the police department. Being that it was a busy Monday afternoon, the building was crawling with activity.

Roxy entered the police department, ignoring the feeling of déjà vu that swarmed her, and headed for the front desk. Two uniformed police officers stood behind the counter, one a man, the other a woman. Neither acknowledged her until she cleared her
throat.

The woman looked up, her dark eyes assessing as she viewed Roxy’s face, and then the rest of her, right down to the bag at her feet. “May I help you?” she finally said, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.

Roxy had seen some attractive women in her life, but this woman took the cake. She was model tall and slim. The police uniform that would make most female officers look manly did nothing to distinguish the curves on this woman. She had dark hair, neatly combed back in a braid, and deep set brown eyes that gave her somewhat of a European look. She was stunning, in a word. Roxy momentarily wished she’d taken the time to find a place to shower and change. She’d been in a bus for hours and hadn’t cleaned up in nearly two days.

“Can I help you?” the police officer repeated, obviously growing impatient.

“Yes,” Roxy finally said, struggling to remember the name of the detective she’d talked to several days earlier. “I’m looking for a detective. McCall. At least I think that was his name.” She watched a
flicker of interest move through the woman’s eyes. Then they narrowed impatiently.

“Which McCall would you be looking for?”

Now it was Roxy’s turn to narrow her eyes. “There’s more than one?”

“There are more than two,” the male officer said, slightly more friendly than the woman was. He grinned halfway. “There are three. Two detectives, one officer. All brothers.”

Her gaze narrowed further. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“We wish he was,” the woman said sarcastically. Obviously she had some sort of personal nature with one of these brothers. She gave Roxy another look of impatience. “If you can remember his first name, that would help.”

Her mind was reading blank, and she shrugged helplessly.

“There’s Chas, Trace and Josh,” the male officer said. “Chas and Trace are both detectives. Either one of those ring a bell?”

“Chas,” Roxy decided definitively. The strange name seemed familiar.

“Figures,” the woman cop said sourly under her breath, then turned and walked away, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t mind her. She pulled an all-nighter last night. Cranky cops and desk clerks are the norm around here. We get short-handed.” The male officer smiled and Roxy was happy to note that his smile did reach his eyes. “Chas isn’t here at the moment. He’s out on a call. Shouldn’t be too long. You can wait if you want. Or I can find someone else to help you. Is this personal?”

She hesitated, then finally shook her head. “It’s business. He called me a few days ago. He’s expecting me. I should probably stick with talking to him rather than someone else.”

“Oh. Well, you can have a seat. If you want, I can call him.”

“That would be fine,” she finally said, growing annoyed at the thought of sitting in the police station all day. The place was too eerily familiar to her, its memories coming back with brutal force. It just didn’t seem right that her father wasn’t sitting in a chair behind the wooden door that had once
hidden the sheriff’s desk.

She walked over to a row of black leather chairs and sat down in one, pulling her bag to rest at her feet. She almost wanted to wait outside, wishing for a little more neutral territory. But then outside wasn’t neutral either, she decided, and stayed put.