was kind enough not to comment as my shaking hand took the disposable cup. I sipped, letting the heat of the coffee and the warmth of the bourbon work their magic.
“Carson, if you’re not ready, tell Brandon. He’s invested enough in you that he won’t push you over the edge.”
“I can do this.” Right. I sounded as if I were sitting on an unbalanced washing machine.
“Okay, but remember, you have a choice.”
I started to say something biting about choices, but instead, I nodded my thanks. “Where’d you get the bourbon?”
“You aren’t the only one with a few dirty secrets.” He grinned. “What did you find?”
“Four missing girls, all in the summer of 1981, before the parking lot was paved.”
“And the fifth?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she was killed somewhere else and brought to Biloxi.”
“Maybe.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Mitch wants to see you. He’s waiting in your office.”
I drained the cup. “Thanks.” By the time I made it out of the morgue and into the newsroom, I was walking without wobbling.
3
I studied the back of Mitch Rayburn’s head as I stood in my office doorway. He had thick, dark hair threaded with silver. By my calculation he was in his mid-forties, and he wore his age well. His tailored suit emphasized broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He worked out, and he jogged. I’d seen him around town late in the evenings when I’d be pulling into a bar. He used endorphins, and I used alcohol; we both had our crutches.
“Carson, don’t stand behind me staring,” he said.
“What gave me away?” I asked, walking around him to my desk. He had two things I like in men—a mustache and a compelling voice.
“Opium. It’s a distinctive scent.”
“If I’m ever stalking a D.A., I’ll remember to spray on something less identifiable.”
He stood up and smiled. “I’m ready to go to Angola. Want a ride?”
I shook my head. “I have some leads to work on here, but I’d appreciate an update when you get back.”
“I didn’t realize I was on the newspaper’s payroll.”
I laughed. “How did it go with Brandon?”
“He’s holding the photo, and thanks for not mentioning the missing fingers.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not always the bitch Avery thinks I am.”
“You got off on the wrong foot, and Avery has a long list of grievances with the paper that date back to the Paleozoic era. Give him a chance to know you. He likes Jack Evans.”
I plopped in my chair and motioned him to sit, too. “I went back in the morgue and found four missing girls from the summer of 1981.”
Mitch’s face paled. “I remember…” His voice faded and there was silence for a moment. “I was in law school that year.”
Beating around the bush was a waste of good time. “I read about your brother and his wife. I’m sorry.”
His gaze dropped to his knees. “Jeffrey was my protector. And Alana…she was so beautiful and kind.”
Loss is an open wound. The lightest touch causes intense pain. I understood this and knew not to linger. “I think four of those bodies in the grave belong to the girls who went missing. I just don’t know how the fifth body fits in.” I watched him for a reaction.
“I’d say you’re on the right track, but it would surely be a courtesy to the families if we had time to contact them before they read it in the newspaper.”
Brandon would print the names of the girls if there was even a remote chance I was right. Or even if I wasn’t. I thought of the repercussions. Twenty-odd years wouldn’t dull the pain of losing a child, and to suffer that erroneously would be terrible. “Okay, if you’ll let me know as soon as you get a positive ID on any of them.”
He nodded. “We’re trying to get dental records on two of the girls. There were fillings. And one had a broken leg. Of course, there’s always DNA, but that’s much slower.”
I noticed his use of the word girls. Mitch, too, believed they were the four girls who went missing in 1981 and one unknown body. “Okay, I’ll do the story as five unidentified bodies. Brandon will have my head if he finds out.”
“Not even Avery Boudreaux could torture the information out of me,” he said, rising. “Thanks for your cooperation, Carson.” He stared at me, an expression I couldn’t identify on his face. “I think we’ll work well together. I want that.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Just remember, nothing is free. My cooperation comes with a price. I’ll collect later.”
As soon as he cleared the newsroom, I picked up the phone and called Avery. I told him about the girls, and that I was voluntarily withholding the information for at least twenty-four hours. His astonishment was reward enough. I got a quote about the investigation and began to write the story.
It was after four when Hank finished editing my piece. I left the paper and headed to Camille’s, a bar on stilts that hung over the Sound. The original bar, named the Cross Current, had been destroyed by the tidal surge of Hurricane Camille. The owner had found pieces of his bar all up and down the coast, had collected them and rebuilt, naming the place to commemorate all that was lost in that storm.
The bar was almost empty. I took a seat and ordered a vodka martini. It was good, but Kip over at Lissa’s Lounge made a better one. There had been a bar in Miami, Somoza’s Corpse, that set the standard for martinis. Daniel, my ex-husband, had taught the bartender to make a dirty martini with just a hint of jalapeño that went down smooth and hot. The music had been salsa and rumba. My husband, with his Nicaraguan heritage, had been an excellent dancer. Still was.
A man in shorts with strong, tanned legs sat down next to me. His T-shirt touted Key West, and his weathered face spoke of a life on the water.
“Hi, my name’s George,” he said, an easy smile on his face. “Mind if I sit here?”
I did, but I needed a distraction from myself. “I’m Carson.”
“I run a charter out of here, some fishing, mostly sightseeing.”
I nodded and smiled, wondering how desperate he was. I hadn’t worn a lick of makeup in two years, and sorrow lined my face. I looked in a mirror often enough to know everything that was missing.
“I moved here in 1978, out of the Keys,” he said. “I don’t like the casinos, but they’re a good draw for business.”
“The coast has changed a lot since the casinos came in.” I didn’t want to make small talk, but I also didn’t want to be rude.
He
