By the River Read online

  Seeing what looked like a camera crew moving toward her, she gripped Jasper’s leash tighter and moved toward the trail. Hoping to evade the reporters, she broke into a run. She was grateful and surprised Jasper didn’t protest the use of the leash until she realized his willingness to trot beside her was likely linked to the fact that Mr. Kettering also loped along the trail beside them.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she mumbled. Feeling guilty for her less-than-sociable response, she added, “Thank you for . . .” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. He had tried to come to her aid, and she supposed he was the one who had called the police. He’d even controlled Jasper better than she’d been able to do.

  “Do you live around here?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “No. I live a few miles away, but I’ve always liked this trail, so I come here sometimes on weekends or holidays. How about you?” She was afraid he and all of the officers who had attempted to speak to her thought she was some kind of basket case. The more distance she put between herself and the scene they’d just left, the more normal she began to feel. The least she could do was carry on a simple conversation with the man who had attempted to help her. Besides, she had to admit, she was curious about Rutherford—or whatever name he went by. Certainly no one was called Rutherford in this century!

  “I live in Murray and usually run on the high school track or in the park,” he volunteered. “They’re both close to my apartment. A friend wanted me to run with him here today, so I agreed. Then he didn’t show up. When I called him, he said he overslept. It was such a great morning, I decided to run on my own anyway.”

  His movements were smooth and appeared effortless. She couldn’t help admiring the play of muscles in his long legs. Snapping her attention back to the path where they ran side by side, she wondered aloud, “Do you think she was attacked by some psycho who was hanging out on this trail?” There was no need to explain who she referred to.

  He hesitated before answering. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think she was a runner. I saw enough to know she wasn’t dressed for that.”

  “Or even walk.” The implication of the shoe she’d removed from Jasper’s mouth took shape in her mind. “Assuming the shoe Jasper found was hers, I don’t see how she could walk in that thing. The heel was at least five inches and the sole an inch or more thick.”

  “Near as I can tell, that describes the current fashion trend. I teach high school students. You’d be surprised at the footwear some girls wear to class. Some of those poor kids hobble along on shoes that more closely resemble stilts. It makes no sense wearing shoes like that with jeans or shorts, but they do it.” He stared straight ahead for several seconds before adding in a softer voice, “This woman wasn’t wearing jeans. I caught just a glimpse of what appeared to be a short, frilly party dress.”

  “What I saw wasn’t decayed . . .” On second thought, she didn’t want to speculate how long the body had been in the water or thrust in the sand where the current made a sharp turn. She shuddered and wished they could talk about something else.

  “I don’t think she’d been there long . . .” His voice trailed off as though he too would prefer some other topic.

  “Uh . . . There’s my car.” She pointed to a small red Jetta as they approached the parking area adjacent to a narrow strip of grass and a wooden structure she knew housed restrooms.

  “Nice car. Probably gets good gas mileage.” He gave the car an approving nod. “I don’t know if we’ll bump into each other again when we go down to the police station, but I’d like to see you again. How about lunch after we finish giving our statements?”

  Kira hesitated. Even though he seemed nice, Rutherford Joseph Kettering was a stranger. He could even be a murderer. She didn’t know where that thought came from, but he’d arrived awfully quickly after she discovered the body. She hoped it wasn’t just because he was good-looking and he’d been nice to her that she felt she could trust him. “All right.” She flashed a weak grin then added, “That’s a first. I may sound old-fashioned and maybe I’ve read too many period novels, but I’ve never gone to lunch before with someone I haven’t been introduced to. I don’t even know what to call you. And by the way, my name is Kira. Kira Paxton.”

  Stopping beside a wooden picnic table, he pulled out his water bottle and took a long drink. With a self-deprecating smile he pointed to a black Ford 150 at the far end of the parking strip. “My parents named me after my great-grandfather then, thankfully, shortened Rutherford to Ford. It seemed like a good idea to shop for a Ford when I bought my first vehicle, and I guess Fords sort of became a habit. Rutherford Kettering, better known as Ford, at your service.” He gave a mock bow, and they both chuckled then quickly sobered. It seemed wrong to laugh after what they’d just witnessed.

  He walked her to her car and watched her coax Jasper into the backseat. The dog whined and protested but eventually made himself comfortable. When she was settled behind the steering wheel, she smiled up at him. “See you later, Ford.”

  He returned the smile. “Bye, Kira.”

  She shifted into reverse and carefully backed out of the parking spot. It was all she could do to keep a broad smile from spreading across her face until she remembered the partially buried body.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kira raked her fingers through her hair as she looked down at the statement she’d just signed. Detective Daley hadn’t pressured her, and she’d tried hard to remember if there was anything unusual that had happened before Jasper slipped his leash and took off running toward the river that morning. She couldn’t think of anything, certainly not a gunshot. She hadn’t even paid attention to whether there were two or twenty cars near where she’d parked. And, no, she didn’t recall anything specific about any of the other runners she’d passed, or more likely, who passed her on the trail. She liked to run, but she knew she wasn’t fast. Besides, her entire attention had been taken up with trying to control her brother’s unruly dog.

  “If you think of anything . . . you have my card?”

  She nodded. She’d already tucked Detective Daley’s card inside the zipper pocket of her purse.

  “We’ll find who did this.” The detective seemed to want to reassure her. “The body hadn’t been there long, so anything you can remember may help us find the killer.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t more observant. The dog made a mess of my house this morning, and I thought if he went for a run, he might settle down . . .”

  “No, don’t feel bad. Your dog did us a favor. I just wish the area hadn’t been so trampled by spectators.” They sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed a long time. The small office felt claustrophobic to Kira. It was only large enough for a desk, two chairs, and a battered metal filing cabinet. There wasn’t even a window. A certificate of some sort hung on the wall, and she noted it was crooked.

  “Uh, am I free to go now?” She felt like a schoolgirl asking permission to be excused. Because of her short stature, she was often mistaken for a child, so it was no surprise she felt like one at the moment.

  “Oh, yes. Go ahead. That’s probably all we’ll need from you until the case goes to trial or you remember something you might have noticed this morning.” He scraped his chair back and rose to his feet.

  She awkwardly shook his hand, trying not to stumble over his reference to going to court. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Instead of putting the whole horrible experience behind her as she had hoped to do, she would be bombarded with gruesome memories for months, maybe years, and eventually she’d have to tell an entire courtroom full of people she’d reacted like a dithering idiot when her brother’s dog dug up a body.

  She hurried down the hall toward the lobby, trying to refocus her thoughts on her lunch date. Before her mother passed away when Kira was thirteen, she’d often reminded Kira and her brother that the best way to get rid of bad thoughts was to replace them with something good. Going to lunch with a good-looking m
an surely qualified.

  Looking around the lobby, she stifled her disappointment. There was no sign of Ford. Two officers, deep in conversation, rushed past her, causing her to take a step backward. A commotion near a desk with a bank-teller-style partition between an officer and a woman who was either hysterical or drunk drew her attention for a moment. Then she turned her gaze toward a row of plastic chairs. Most were occupied, but none of the occupants were Ford. A female officer marched a large Polynesian teenager sporting nothing but sandals, a lava-lava, and dozens of tattoos toward the hallway she’d just left. A neatly dressed man in a three-piece suit brushed by her, and she moved farther back toward the wall, wondering if she should wait for Ford or just leave.

  * * *

  The officer across the desk from Ford was younger than Detective Daley, who had questioned Ford earlier. The younger detective’s cocky attitude rubbed him the wrong way. Ford had shared the events of the morning, and he had nothing more to tell Detective Chetfield when the young detective was called out of the room. Ford was annoyed to be left stewing on an uncomfortable plastic chair. It wasn’t the way he’d hoped to spend his day. When Chetfield returned he was strutting with self-importance.

  “The victim has been identified,” he announced. He peered closely at Ford as though expecting some kind of reaction and appeared disappointed when it didn’t come. “The victim was a student of yours, I believe.”

  “A student!” The news was like a blow. Ford cared about his students and found it unthinkable that the life of one of the vibrant young people he saw each day at school had been cut short. “Who?” he asked, though he wasn’t certain he wanted to hear the answer.

  The detective moved a few items on his desk and placed his pen in perfect alignment with his notebook. Finally he looked directly at Ford as though trying to see right inside his head. “Marla Hayden. I believe you knew her particularly well.”

  Ford didn’t like the insinuation behind Detective Chetfield’s words. “I know her. Yes. She’s in my fourth-period history class.”

  “Tell me about the little private meeting—” Chetfield’s voice broke off as the door behind Ford opened.

  “That will be all for today, Mr. Kettering. If we need anything further, we have your contact information.” Detective Daley dismissed him. He sounded cold and stiff, but Ford noted he wasn’t the recipient of Daley’s glare. That was reserved for the cocky young officer whose face had turned a mottled red.

  * * *

  Kira’s hand moved toward her mouth, and just in time she remembered she didn’t bite her nails anymore. She’d paid forty bucks for the reward manicure she’d given herself for not chewing on her nails for three whole months. Actually she was amazed she hadn’t chewed them down to the quick when she discovered what Jasper had dug up.

  “Ready?”

  She hadn’t even noticed Ford’s arrival. His smile seemed a little forced, and the way he took her arm and moved her a little too quickly toward the door told her his interview hadn’t gone as smoothly as had hers.

  Since they’d arrived in separate vehicles, they agreed to meet at a popular restaurant near the mall and were fortunate enough to find parking spaces near each other. Ford ushered her ahead of him into the restaurant, where a hostess seated them.

  A few minutes later, Kira fiddled with her straw, glancing frequently at her silent companion’s face. Several times she thought he was about to say something then changed his mind. He’d asked if Olive Garden was okay with her. It was nearby, and the food was good. She’d quickly agreed but had felt disappointed ever since she’d taken a seat across from him. He responded to her attempts at conversation with mumbled responses and sounded almost mechanical when he placed his order with their server. She felt herself shrink as she considered the odds Ford was merely being polite when he suggested lunch and that he hadn’t expected her to accept. Or perhaps he’d had second thoughts about spending time with her. After a moment’s reflection, intuition told her there was more to his withdrawal. She guessed something about his interview troubled him.

  “Want to talk about it?” she mustered her courage to ask. It was ridiculous to sit there in silence. Besides, a listening ear might be what he needed. Clearly something had upset him, and she already knew he wasn’t a man who got flustered easily. If it was just a matter of regretting being with her, it was better to know now.

  He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together briefly before releasing a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good company. The officer who interviewed me received word during the interview about the identity of the body found this morning. She is, or rather was, one of my students. Her name was Marla Hayden, and she has been trouble since the first day school started last fall. Actually she’s caused trouble since she was in elementary school.”

  “You know her? The dead woman . . . the body Jasper . . . ?” She wasn’t making sense. It was bad enough discovering a dead woman but to actually know that person! Then it hit her. If she was in one of Ford’s classes, she wasn’t a woman but a child. No, not a child. A teenager. It had always seemed silly to her to refer to teenagers who were victimized in some way as children, but when they committed a crime, they were suddenly adults.

  Ford went on, “She’s just sixteen and in my sophomore world history class. She’s smart enough to get good grades, but only works hard enough to maintain the necessary GPA to participate in extracurricular activities like dance club. I’ve suspected all year that her boyfriend was writing her papers and she was cheating on exams, but I couldn’t prove it. Several of her friends transferred their daughters to different schools last semester because they’d been picked up with Marla for shoplifting and their parents didn’t want their kids associating with her any longer. She’s a rude, manipulative troublemaker.”

  Ford’s words seemed like a terrible way to speak of someone dead, someone who apparently died tragically. She didn’t know Ford well, but if he had negative feelings toward the girl, she suspected he had good reason. She mulled his statement over in her mind for several minutes, trying to come to terms with words that held a tinge of bitterness. She acknowledged that she’d painted a fantasy in her mind, picturing the dead girl as the innocent victim of some scurrilous stranger who preyed on unwary young women. Was it possible the girl was involved in something dangerous? At last she asked, “Do you think she was killed because she was doing something illegal?” She thought of drugs. Her own high school days were recent enough to know there were students who used and ones who sold. It wasn’t unheard of for a high school student to be killed over a bad drug deal. News reports were full of stories about teenagers involved in drug trafficking.

  “At this point I don’t think the police know what the motive for her killing was. I got the feeling they were fishing for any information whatsoever about her and the people who might have a grudge against her. Unfortunately that includes me.”

  “You?” Surely they didn’t suspect Ford of killing one of his students! Nothing she’d seen in Ford would cause her to think he was capable of harming someone.

  “Yes. We had a difference of opinion just last week.” She wished he would explain more fully, but he didn’t go on. He placed a forkful of his entree in his mouth and chewed deliberately, a faraway look in his eyes; then he seemed to make up his mind to change the subject. “So how did you wind up with a dog you don’t seem happy to own?”

  “My brother, Tracy, and my father own an international company. Their work includes quite a bit of travel. Tracy usually leaves Jasper with Dad, but since Dad had to be out of town this week too, he assumed I would be happy to take the beast off his hands.”

  “Do I detect a bit of sarcasm?” Ford grinned.

  Kira sighed. “I don’t dislike dogs; I just have no desire to live with one or to have one dependent on me. Besides, Jasper is a big animal, and my house is small with a tiny unfenced yard. A big dog like Jasper should have room to run. Tracy had his own apartment for a while, but his work involves s
o much travel that he moved back home a couple years ago. Dad has a huge fenced yard, so Jasper doesn’t get in so much trouble there. I’ve tried to convince Tracy that Jasper would be better off at home with a neighbor dropping in to feed him daily, but Tracy insists he needs to be with family and that he’s used to spending most of his day inside, where he has the run of the house.”

  “I had a dog when I was a kid, but my family lived in a big old rambling farmhouse on nearly five acres. I don’t think Rascal would have been happy as a house dog.” Memories of his former pet were obviously pleasant ones.

  “Speaking of an unhappy dog, I’d better be on my way. Jasper doesn’t like being confined to my front room and will have found something to chew up by the time I get back.” With a sigh, she gathered up her handbag and rose to her feet.

  Ford rose to his feet too. He looked at her apologetically. “I’d like to see you again. I promise to be better company next time.”

  Warmth filled her. “I’d like that too.” It was true. Even with Ford’s distracted thoughts and the ordeal they’d faced earlier, she felt drawn to him and wanted a chance to get to know him better.

  Kira’s thoughts lingered on Ford as she drove. She didn’t remember a time when she’d been so attracted to a man as she was to Ford. They’d spent little time together, yet she felt a connection as though they’d been friends for a long time. He was good-looking, but she’d dated other men who were attractive. She had never felt quite the same way about any of them. Could the emotionally charged discovery that morning and a trip to the police station somehow have affected her feelings, creating a bond between them that was only in her imagination? She tried to view her feelings realistically.

  Her thoughts turned to the information she’d learned about the young girl whose body she’d found that morning. She would have liked to discuss with Ford more about what he knew, but she understood how difficult the topic had become for him. She sensed he was torn by guilt for disliking one of his students then discovering she’d died tragically.