Deadly Secrets Read Free

of an athlete and only a practiced eye would notice the stiffness in his left leg—a souvenir from a stray bullet.
    The clouds had been swirled away by the storm’s wind and now moonlight bathed the cabin in an eerie gray and orange glow that seemed to fit the night. As promised, Kelly opened the main gates, and then he and Jake headed for the cabin.  On the porch he Kelly settled into an old rocker and Jake flopped at his feet. Silence, like a blanket, covered the flea market. Even the crickets were still. Mechanically, Kelly set the chair to rocking. Pictures of Anna flashed through his mind—a kaleidoscope of memories tracing the years he’d spent at Indian Creek.
    Time passed and in the distance a siren sounded. Squinting northward, Kelly spotted flashes of red and blue lights. Minutes later, a patrol car turned into the yard and pulled up to the cabin.
    A young deputy jumped from the car and strode to the porch. “Are you Kelly McWinter?” He was just a kid with short blonde hair trimmed close to his ears and wearing an immaculate brown-and-tan uniform. “I’m Deputy Johnson,” he said without waiting for an answer. “I understand you’ve got a body here.”
    “That’s right.” Kelly rose and crossed the porch to meet the officer. “She’s down by the refreshment stand. I checked to make sure she was dead.”
    Johnson narrowed his eyes. His right hand, which had been resting comfortably on the butt of his holstered gun, stiffened.
    “Nobody ever tell you not to touch a corpse?”
    Kelly smiled, remembering the first time he’d been called out on a homicide. “Hey, it’s all right.” He kept his voice low and friendly. “I used to be on the force myself. I know the drill.”
    Johnson relaxed a bit but kept his hand on the holster. “Okay, just so’s you didn’t contaminate anything.”
    A squeal of tires announced the county ambulance. Two men in white overalls jumped out. A veteran with stooped shoulders and a mop of thick gray hair climbed into the back of the van and handed a large black case to a well-muscled, young Mexican.
    Johnson walked over to the van, said a few words then signaled Kelly to lead the way down the hill.
    Taking them through the double doors, Kelly approached the refreshment stand. “Over there.” He pointed.
    The younger medic stepped into the circle of light that beamed from the ceiling, set his case beside Anna’s feet and started unpacking.
    “Watch what the hell you’re doing.” The harsh voice boomed through the silent barn startling the young medic and causing him to stumble into Anna’s cash box sending it skidding across the cement.
    In the wake of the voice, a stocky cop with short legs and long arms stomped onto the scene. “Can’t you see this is a friggin’ crime scene?” The cop’s thick, bulbous nose quivered and his cheeks puffed out as he let loose on the young medic. The red-faced medic bent to retrieve his case and the cop turned to Kelly.
    “I’m Sergeant Adams,” he said. “You the guy that reported this?”
    “That’s right. I’m the security guard here. I found her when I made my two o’clock rounds.”
    “Okay, I’ll get to you in a minute.”
    Adams was a hard ass but Kelly sympathized. If there was any chance Anna was still alive, the medics would have priority at the scene. However, plenty of vital evidence could be destroyed in the first few minutes of an investigation. It was a standing joke with cops that an over-anxious medic was the defense attorney’s best friend. They’d been known to smear fingerprints, brush off hair and fibers and wipe away any sign of bodily fluids.
    Kelly had seen it all and a vivid memory of one of his own cases where an over-anxious medic had started CPR on a cold corpse popped readily to mind.
    Adams and Johnson stood over the body, talking in low voices. Kelly watched as Adams bent down, lifted the poncho then dropped it back in place.
    “Only an idiot would think there was any life left in