Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

“Rose Harrelson,” Kay replied, then held back her questioning, seeing how Carole shot Bill a strange glance, lingering and inquisitive.

Bill avoided his mother’s scrutiny and touched the blinking voicemail light on his desk phone. “The housekeeper told me the phones were ringing all morning,” he whispered, “That’s why. The house staff must’ve known… All these people knew… Everyone knew my daughter was dead, except me.” He closed his eyes and breathed, visibly struggling to keep his composure. “Can I see a photo?”

Kay’s eyebrows shot up. “Of Alyssa? Of, um, her body?”

“Yes,” he replied angrily. “After you people fucked up so badly, don’t you think I have the right to see for myself?”

Her lips, pressed into a tight line, kept her reaction in check, because the Caldwells weren’t to blame for the mix-up. Law enforcement was responsible; she was the face of law enforcement in the Caldwell residence at the moment, and she was going to own the mistake and take whatever they decided to dish out. After all, they were grief-stricken parent and grandparent, with every right to be angry and ask questions.

She took out her phone and flipped through some of the crime scene photos until she found one that didn’t show the gaping slash across Alyssa’s throat. “Mr. Caldwell, is this your daughter?” she asked, as she showed Bill the phone.

He broke down in tears, his face flushed a dark red. “Oh, no, my beautiful little girl,” he whimpered, then covered his mouth with his hands as if to hold the sobs in.

Without a word, his mother pushed the box of tissues his way across the lacquered surface of the desk.

“How did she die?” Mrs. Caldwell asked. Her eyes had dried, and a brief glance at her revealed nothing of her agony.

“Quickly and painlessly, I can assure you,” Kay replied in a gentle voice.

The woman patted dry a rebel tear welling at the corner of her eyes. “You must think me a sissy, Detective, but I was asking for specifics. Was she shot? Stabbed?”

Kay couldn’t believe the woman’s callousness. While her son struggled to contain his grief, she showed no trace of empathy. She hadn’t hugged him, like people usually do when devastating news is delivered to family members; it’s human instinct to cling to others when hard times strike.

Mrs. Caldwell didn’t share that instinct, and neither did her son. Both had remained on their respective sides of the massive mahogany desk, worlds apart instead of united by the grief they shared.

“The official cause of death was exsanguination due to severed carotids,” she replied, looking at Bill, wondering how he was taking his mother’s cold and factual approach to his daughter’s demise.

Mrs. Caldwell still kept her eyes riveted on her, expecting more.

“Her throat was slashed,” she added, then exhaled, turning her attention to Bill. “If you can, Mr. Caldwell, we need you to come by the coroner’s office tomorrow morning, to formally identify the body.”

Bill opened his eyes and nodded. “Do you have any suspects?” His low, contained voice was menacing, loaded with anger like a barrel of gunpowder ready to blow up at the tiniest spark.

Kay shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with the answer she was about to offer. “We’re investigating,” she replied, her tone calm and professional, reassuring. “Her body was found yesterday, and we haven’t had much time—”

“Because you screwed up her identity, didn’t you?” he snapped. “You wasted time, while Alyssa’s killer is walking free. Do you at least have any leads?”

“N—no, none at this time,” she replied, instantly regretting she hadn’t informed him that the police aren’t at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation.

He circled the desk, stopping a couple of feet in front of her. It took all her willpower to not take a step back, knowing people like the Caldwells read meaning in every gesture, and all their interpretations were about power and weakness, status and confidence, and opportunity to apply pressure and get their way. “Then let me point you in the right direction,” he said, dark, menacing undertones coloring his voice.

His mother sprung to her feet and grabbed his arm. “William Earnest Caldwell, you are out of line.”

Bill ignored his mother, keeping his eyes riveted on Kay. “Why don’t you start with my sister?” he asked nonchalantly, the shift in his voice as unexpected as his words. “Then continue with Mother here, who can explain my sister’s and her no-good, bastard son’s motive. They’ll keep you entertained until I return.”

16Trapped

Five Days Ago

Kirsten’s breath caught, but she somehow managed to smile and close the bathroom door. Perhaps she’d read him wrong. She didn’t get the creep vibe in his presence; well, maybe just a little, because he seemed so genuinely interested in her well-being.

But had the man really done anything wrong? His words still resounded in her mind. Have you ever been touched? His weird question might’ve been about something else, his concern whether she’d been assaulted, maybe? She closed her eyes, replaying the moment again in her mind, while her instinct told her to run out of there screaming.

She wanted him to be a kind, charismatic man who’d taken a real interest in her, someone she could trust. She really wanted that to be the case, but, if living with her stepfather and his buddies had taught her anything, it was that the world was full of creeps, and that her instincts never lied.

She held her breath and pasted her ear against the door, listening intently. She didn’t hear a sound, not even the slightest murmur, as if she were alone in the entire house. Somewhat relieved, she started looking around for a way out.

There was a side-sliding frosted window above the tub, large enough to fit her slim body through it. The farmhouse wasn’t far from the highway. In ten, fifteen minutes of running straight across the fields, she’d be safe.

She turned the sink faucet to let the water run. The sound