Hidden Deception

Why doesn’t Joyce’s family take care of those arrangements?”

“Her parents disowned her and wanted nothing to do with her after her time in prison. Apparently, she never mentioned them again.”

He studied her, then nodded. “Follow me.” They walked into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom. He stepped into the closet. “Pick out something.”

Crowding into the closet by him, she tried to focus on a dress. Suddenly, the grief, fear and uncertainty swamped her. She didn’t want to cry. She wouldn’t cry. All the clothes blurred, and tears ran down her cheeks. The harder she tried not to cry, the more she did.

“Are you all right?” he softly asked, his lips close to her ear.

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.

When he touched her shoulder, the dam broke and the tears flowed unchecked. Unseeing, she turned into his chest. All the turbulent emotions she’d bottled up poured out of her.

She didn’t know how long she bawled. A minute or eternity, but when the storm had passed, she stepped back. On his shirt was a big, wet spot.

She motioned to the spot. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes held a wealth of understanding and the gentle smile curving his lips eased her embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t throw up on me as my daughter has after a crying spell.” He handed her his handkerchief.

She laughed in spite of herself. “At least there’s that.”

Noise from the outer room startled them.

Daniel stepped out of the closet and said something to the patrolman. She used the time to gather her wits and dry her face.

When he came back, he said, “The patrolmen found the back door open. Our perpetrator came in that way.”

She nodded and then turned her attention to picking out a dress. She grabbed a soft blue one with a matching belt and a wide lace collar, pulled it out and showed it to Daniel.

“Let’s take it downstairs where I can note what you took and then you can deliver it to the funeral home.”

It was quickly done, the garment’s pockets checked for anything. When nothing was found, he allowed her to leave. As she drove away, fear clutched her heart. Just what had Joyce been involved in that someone would search and trash her home with such violence?

But that wasn’t the only worry slithering around her brain. She didn’t know what it was, but it was there. “Lord, help. Give me Your guidance and protection.”

He watched from his car as she drove away. The cops quickly left the scene after her. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as anger shot through him. This was the second time she barged into the place he was searching. The woman was becoming a complication he couldn’t afford. Joyce had uncovered the truth and threatened him with it. He wanted that proof destroyed.

He would find it, no matter what it took. He wouldn’t go to prison. Not again.

Daniel finished taking down the last license plate from the cars parked on the road beside the grave, then slipped the small spiral notebook into the inside pocket of his sport jacket. He’d run checks on cars and their owners when he got back to the office, then compare notes with what his partner turned up. Hopefully, Raul had tracked down Joyce’s family.

He walked over the sand and stones to the grave site and joined the mourners. There were only a handful of people. Elena and her mother, Preston Jones, Cam McGinnis, Carolyn Ellis from the homeless shelter, and Susan and Jeff Marks, owners of Mama Rose’s Cantina.

“Lord,” the minister began, “accept the spirit of our sister and comfort those who grieve for her, we pray. Amen.”

Each person held a rose and as they filed by the coffin, they put a rose on the closed lid. When Elena looked up, she stopped.

“Detective Stillwater.”

Before he could respond, Cam McGinnis moved behind Elena. His expression and the set of his body signaled the coming flare-up.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

The words exploded in the silence of the overcast morning.

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