Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

“No, ma’am. But I am looking into the disappearance of Bethany Reed and Mike Marlowe.”

Tracy studied the tip of her cigarette. “Amber was dead on her feet when she arrived at my house this morning. She’s been staying in a motel and ran low on money so she came back here to her mama.”

“I didn’t realize she left the motel.”

“She was gonna tell that lady cop, but she drifted off and slept most of the day away. I’m glad she came home to me. I’ve missed her.” She took another drag and released more smoke. “She in some kind of trouble or are you just poking around an old case?”

“It’s a little bit more than poking around old files. We found two other bodies at the park. Looks like one is Bethany Reed and the other is Mike Marlowe. That discovery puts Amber right back in the middle of it all.”

She flicked her cigarette, watching the ash fall to the pavement. “Shit, so this is gonna be a replay of the last time. At least those kids have been found. At least those parents will have some kind of closure.”

He studied her face, which was highlighted by the overhead parking lot floodlight. “What can you tell me about that time? What were Bethany and Mike like?”

“Bethany, I only met once. She was a nice enough girl. Mousy. Not much personality, if you ask me, God rest her soul. Amber liked spending time at her house. Hard to believe those two clicked. I always thought Amber hung out at the Reeds’ house because that Reed woman doted on her. Mrs. Reed liked the way Amber paid attention to Bethany. I don’t think Bethany had many friends.”

“Why do you think Bethany and Amber got on so well?”

“Hard to say why they clicked.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, picking at a piece of tobacco left from her cigarette.

“And Mike?”

A frown deepened the lines around her mouth. “I only met him a couple of times. Amber didn’t talk much about him.” She dropped her cigarette and crushed it into the ground with the tip of her black cowboy boot. “I didn’t like Mike.”

“Why not?”

“Self-centered. Privileged prick who thought because of his mama’s money he could do whatever he wanted. His daddy was the same way. Acted like money made him better than everyone.”

“Mike spend a lot of time with Amber?”

“No. I mean they knew each other but they didn’t hang out a lot, well, at least around me. Teenage girls don’t like to stick around the house much, and she was always on the go.”

“How did those three hook up for that last hike into the woods?”

“It was Bethany’s idea.” Her gaze softened as if she were drifting to the past. “She was the organizer. The rah-rah kind of gal who wanted to organize the best science project ever. She asked Amber because she liked her. Knowing Mike, he finagled his way onto their team because his grades were so weak. His daddy fixed as much as he could, but you couldn’t help noticing that that boy had a chip missing.”

“A chip missing.”

“He was smart enough, but he never really had a set of balls.”

“Did Amber ever talk to you about what happened in the woods?”

She shook her head. “She didn’t remember a thing. In the months she was with me after her return, she never gave me a whiff that she remembered anything. And there were times I tried to trick her to see if she were lying. She never gave me any reason to doubt. Not once.”

“A lot of people didn’t believe her.”

“Oh, I know it. A fair share of folks thought she was a liar. She tried to go back to school and finish out her senior year, but those kids at that school made life hell for her. Finally, she gave up and finished her schooling up at home. Taught herself those last couple of months.”

“And then she took off for college.”

She fingered a tassel on her silver belt. “I never blamed her. She needed a fresh start. She needed to get away from all this. Hell, I’m almost glad she never did remember. Terrible things must have happened that day in the woods.”

“Why didn’t you leave Nashville?”

A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Where would I go? I’m not smart like Amber. Or young. And my last husband’s illness ate up all the money. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Has she spoken to you about the past since her return?”

“We haven’t talked about it. Frankly, my head is still spinning with the idea of her returning and those kids being found.”

“Anybody threaten you after those kids went missing?”

She latched on to anger as if it had been a lifeline. “Sure, we had trouble. Someone threw a brick through our front window, and I found a dead cat on the front lawn. That was a real treat. And there were notes.”

“What kind of notes?”

“They mostly called Amber a liar and a murderer. There were some that thought she killed those two kids.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine that? She’s five feet five inches tall and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet and they figure her for a killer. Maybe she could have taken Bethany if she got in a lucky shot, but Mike outweighed her by a hundred pounds.”

Dr. Heller theorized Bethany might have been stabbed based on slash marks on the bones. Bethany had stood five inches taller than Amber, so if Bethany were standing when she’d been stabbed, Amber couldn’t have done it, given the angle of the cut in the bone. That also left Mike, a large beefy football player who couldn’t have been taken by Amber unless she had help or was armed.

Forensic evidence aside, he understood a motivated killer could do things that defied the interpretations of the evidence. “Have you had much contact with her in the last five years?”

“Some. I went to see her at school once. She looked happy. Had a boyfriend. And we exchanged a few phone calls. I sent her money when I could.”

“And since she took her job?”

“She’s a grown woman. She’s got her life.” She reached in her pocket for her pack of cigarettes. A flick of the lighter and she lit another. She inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to trickle out of her nose. “I worry more about me paying my bills. Now that she’s back, this crap from the past is gonna stir trouble and cost me my job.”

He rested his hand on his belt. “Is Amber worried?”

“I don’t know. She never was the kind to show it. Always kept her emotions locked up tight.”

“Did she spend any time with her father?”

Tracy laughed. “He was never in the picture. It was always just me and Amber.” A very faint smile teased the edges of her thin lips. “We were the Dynamic Duo.”

“How’d she get into a school like St. Vincent?”

“She’s smart. She set her sights on the school. I told her not to dream so big, but she did. Somehow she found a way to do the impossible.”

“I understand she received a scholarship.”

“I didn’t ask where the money was coming from. As long as it wasn’t costing me, I didn’t care.”

“How did it go for her at St. Vincent?”

&nbs

p; “How do you think? She was the outsider. Kids can be cruel. But she was smart and tough, so she stuck it out. Rich folks can smell poor a mile away.”

“It had to have been tough.”

“I know it was. Like I said, Amber doesn’t say much when she’s upset. But she got that glint in her eye and I knew she’d be okay.”

“What glint?”

“The one that said she’d get her way, no matter what, in the end.”

* * *

The light table in the forensic lab glowed as Georgia draped Elisa Spence’s skirt over it. She had processed the shirt, shoe, and undergarments but still needed to examine the skirt. Moving slowly and carefully, she spread the material wide and adjusted the hem until it was straight. Touching the items of the dead, especially one so young, always took more effort and concentration. Sometimes it was as if the dead reached out from the grave and begged her to find their killer. Help me. Help me. The words whispered close, brushing her ear as she studied the simple skirt.

Less than a week ago, Elisa had awoken and slipped on this skirt. Had she been distracted, worried, excited as she fastened each button? Had her thoughts been to the future? Georgia lifted the hem with a gloved hand and closed her eyes. She took deep, even breaths.

Elisa had been excited. The day held secrets. Unspoken thrills.

When Georgia opened her eyes, she pulled down the magnifying glass suspended from above, and with tweezers in hand, began to study the fabric with precise detail. Centimeter by centimeter she combed, searching for hairs or fibers that had clung to the fabric. No one entered a room or left without leaving some trace evidence. No one.

She was midway up the front of the skirt when she spotted several dark hairs. They could be Elisa’s. A roommate. A friend. A killer.

Carefully, she bagged the hair fiber and continued her search. By the time she finished examining the material, seven hair fibers were bagged for testing. All black, coarse, and long.

“So who were you excited about seeing?” she whispered as she rose from the stool and stretched out her back.

She reached for a blue light and held it over the fabric, searching for stains. On the bottom edge of the skirt’s front, she spotted a small stain. She photographed it and then took scrapings, which she placed on a slide. She packaged the item up for the state lab where the DNA testing would be conducted.