Chapter Seven

The sound of the doorbell woke me. More like startled me into wakefulness. It took me a few moments to figure out where I was and what had shaken me from dreamland. Or more correctly, the land of nightmares.

"I'm coming. I'm coming," I shouted, and pushed myself off the couch, book tumbling from my lap when I stood.

It was breaking daylight when I yanked the door open and looked up into Mitch's weary eyes.

"Need some coffee badly," was his greeting as he stepped inside and headed straight for the kitchen. By the looks of him he needed a shower and some sleep a lot more.

"What's happened?" I barely had the question out when one of my nightmares flashed before me.

"Joe... Oh God, tell me nothing's happened to Joe."

When Mitch picked the bottle of brandy off the counter from where I left it the night before, I feared the worst. Before he had the cap twisted off, Mitch put the bottle back down on the counter. I had no idea what a struggle that decision really was for him.

"It's not Joe," he finally told me.

He seemed unable to face me and started filling the coffee pot with water.

"Thomas. You found out he was murdered then?"

Mitch turned off the water and slowly tilted his head in my direction. "It's Ethel, Fay."

"Joe's Ethel?"

"She was found a little after midnight. Bunch a kids decided on a camp out after the rain stopped." Mitch took a breather to pull out a table chair and guide me into it. After pulling a chair up next to me and folding himself into it, he proceeded. "They were partyin' is what they were doin.' Sobered up really quick when one a the girls opened the refrigerator."

"Refrigerator?"

"They were partyin' next to someone's dump site in the woods."

When Mitch let go of my hand, I latched back onto his "Ethel was in the refrigerator?"

Mitch's eyes were bubbling up with tears .This time when he pulled away, I let him. It was obvious he needed a moment to get a grip on his emotions. Which he seemed to do by the time he filled two mugs and returned to the table with them.

"She was gagged and tied up, Fay. Looks like she was stuffed in there alive, too. She suffocated."

Everything he told me was too horrible to absorb all at once. I refused to let myself see the image of what Mitch actually had seen. I also refused to accept the fact that Mitch was talking about the Ethel Johnson I knew most of my adult life.

"How do you know for sure that it's Ethel? I mean, maybe someone that looks like-"

"It's her, Fay. Her sister identified the body."

Down deep, I knew what Mitch said was the truth. Ethel was the one found dead. But on the surface, I still could not believe it. And I certainly wasn't ready to accept it.

"Got to meet the pretty young thing you told me was at Joe's yesterday."

"Joe! Oh God, how is he handling this? Is he-"

"Don't know. He wasn't home when I dropped by before comin' here."

"Wasn't home," I repeated in disbelief.

It didn't take long for the anger to begin cooking within me. Something was terribly wrong and that woman was to blame. I just knew it.

"So did Angel tell you where Joe is?"

"Said he left on a trip."

"A trip! That's ridiculous. Joe would have told me if he was going away. She's lying, Mitch."

"You say her name's Angel?"

"Angel Adams is what she told me. That's probably a lie too."

"You gonna be okay if I take off for a while?"

"No. This time you're taking me with you."

"I'm only goin' home to feed the animals."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth. I have no authority to investigate this case."

"As if that'll stop you."

"Don't you have a newspaper to run or somethin'?"

"I have papers to deliver this afternoon. But I still have my assistant in charge of the daily operations, remember?"

Mitch exhaled in defeat. "Okay, you can come with, but I really do have to stop by the farm."

"I'll be changed before you have time to rinse our mugs," I assured.

I was in my jeans and sneakers in record time and raced back down the stairs and into the empty kitchen. The mugs had been rinsed and left on the counter to air dry. Mitch was gone though. At least he wasn't in the kitchen.

I dashed back into the hallway and to the front door. As I pulled it open, I got a glimpse of the rear-end of his pickup before it disappeared around the curve in the road.

Somehow, I stopped myself before I stamped my foot like a child on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum. I was no child. I was a full-grown woman. The publisher of a very successful newspaper business too. And that certainly wouldn't have been possible if I had made a habit of minding my own business.

It is not a crime to admit I've done my own share of sniffing out a story to make headlines. So looking around for information about Ethel's murder wouldn't be any different, I decided. And at the same time, I could track down the whereabouts of Joe, even if it meant choking the truth out of one Angel Adams.

By the time I left the house, I had convinced myself I could get to the bottom of things without the help of Mitch Malone. His disappearing act was proof enough he felt I'd be more of a hindrance than a help to his investigation. So I really didn't have any other choice than to go it alone.