barely stopped his jaw from sagging as he accepted the offering—both the tea and the slight thaw in attitude.
“Call me David, please. When you say Mr. Greene I feel like you’re talking to my father, and if you shorten it to Dave I’ll think I’ve gone back to grade school.”
“David, then. But you—” Laurel wagged a finger at her daughter “—should refer to him as Mr. Greene. It’s basic respect, like the way you address your teachers at school.”
“Gotcha, Mom.” Caroline accepted her cup and brought it to her nose. “Mmmm. This stuff smells great! Thanks, Mr. Greene.” Her enthusiasm was followed by a distinct slurp.
A chuckle escaped David’s throat, and Laurel lifted her cup to hide what looked like a suspicious twitch of the lips. Small talk occupied the next minutes, but at last David set his cup down and stood.
“I can fire up that CB radio now. It might take me a few minutes to tune it in to the right frequency. I’ve almost never used the gadget.”
Laurel rose. “Yes, please, that would be great. Let me know when I can speak to someone. In the meantime, I’d like to step outside and bring in our luggage. It would be so good to freshen up a little.”
“I wouldn’t feel right leaving you to go out in the storm.” He moved toward the coat closet and grabbed his outdoor gear. “I’ll get the bags if you give me your keys. We can do the radio after your things are inside.”
“You’ve done enough for us, Mr. Greene. I’ll handle it.”
Stubborn woman. His mom had been, too, but in her the trait hadn’t irritated him. “We’ll do it together, then.” If he could take back the bite in his tone he would.
Posture stiff, Laurel took her coat from him. He resisted the impulse to hold the garment while she shrugged into it. Under current circumstances, the common courtesy ingrained into him by his upbringing might feel like an invasion of her space. He put on his jacket, hat, boots and insulated mittens, but refrained from commenting about the wet loafers on his guest’s feet.
“I’ll set up a game of Scrabble while you get the bags,” Caroline said.
Tugging on thin gloves, Laurel nodded at her daughter and led the way to the door. David pulled it open for her. At least he could do that much.
Snow particles stung his cheeks, and icy air washed David’s face as he forged onto the porch after Laurel. He followed close on her heels as she eased down the steps. As she reached the ground, a drift swallowed her legs to the knees. He shook his head. She should have unbent enough to let him do this for her.
Frowning, he slogged after her toward the dark bulk of the car. The wind had already driven snowdrifts up to the bumpers. At last they reached the car’s trunk. Laurel fished a set of keys out of her coat pocket and pressed a button. The trunk lid sprang open, blocking the wind. David gratefully inhaled a long breath free of ice particles.
Laurel’s scream froze the oxygen in his chest. The car keys dropped from his guest’s lax fingers. David caught the keychain, then followed the line of her gaze into the trunk. There were suitcases, all right. But something was sprawled atop them. Or rather someone. The fact that this person was no longer among the living was clear in the frozen stare and facial expression locked into an unnatural contortion.
Bitter bile stung the back of David’s throat. He’d seen the body of a murder victim before—exactly three years ago to this day. At least no one could claim he’d killed this woman.
The same couldn’t be said of his guests.
TWO
How could this be? Laurel blinked and shook her head, but the corpse draped across her luggage didn’t disappear. And Laurel knew the woman. Did she ever!
How did the body of Melissa Eldon—Caroline’s detested biology teacher—wind up in her car trunk? Laurel’s pulse roared in her ears. How did the woman die? No noticeable injuries sprang to Laurel’s attention.
And where did Ms. Eldon meet her end? Absurd to believe she crawled into the trunk of her own free will and expired. No restraints tethered the splayed body so she must have been dead before someone dumped her remains in the trunk—after Laurel stowed their bags last evening and before she and Caroline left town. The thuds and thumps from the trunk when they had nearly run off the road took on horrific significance. Nausea churned her stomach.
Think, Laurel. Think logically.
Other than herself, only Caroline would have had access to the car keys and the trunk remote control. She kept a spare set on top of the refrigerator in the kitchen. No! Laurel would never believe her daughter was responsible.
But what if the law didn’t see it that way? Blackness edged her vision, and she swayed.
A firm hand caught her elbow. Gasping, she gazed up into eyes as gray and piercing as driven rain. Laurel went still. If only this man were someone she knew and trusted. Strong arms around her might never be more welcome. She pulled away and stiffened her spine.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked.
Laurel didn’t answer. Her voice had lost the ability to respond. David tugged off one of his gloves, leaned into the open trunk and touched the woman’s throat with a pair of fingers.
By an act of will, Laurel unlocked her lips. “Any pulse?” She already knew the answer, but she had to ask.
“Not a flicker.” David straightened with a grimace. “You’re out of luck on your suitcases. We’d better not disturb anything until the authorities get here.”
“This is so awful! That poor woman!”
“We may as well sort out our thoughts inside where it’s warm.” His hand pressed gently against her shoulder. With the other hand he slammed the trunk closed on the grizzly vision. “We’ll have to fire up that CB radio immediately.”
“Right.” The weak word was swallowed by the wind.
The journey back to the house passed in a blur. The next thing she knew, David was helping her out of her coat and urging her to remove her snow-cased shoes. Her toes tingled and stung, but nothing compared to the pins and needles in the pit of her stomach.
“I’ve got the game ready, Mom.”
Caroline’s cheerful announcement wrung Laurel’s heart. How could she tell her daughter what they’d discovered outside? Laurel’s gaze slid toward David, making a soundless plea for...what? Guidance? Moral support? Or was she hoping for a laugh and an assurance that their gruesome find had been a practical joke? If only!
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You may as well tell her. The police will be involved soon enough, and there will be questions for all of us.”
“Tell me what?” Caroline’s brows drew together as she stood up. “Police? What’s going on?”
Laurel drew in a shaky breath. “Let’s have a seat on the sofa.” She stepped toward her daughter, a hand extended.
Caroline backed away. “Stop it! You’re scaring me.”
“Listen
