Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins) (4 page)

She watched the clock, growing more anxious with every passing tick of the second hand. She observed the inner workings of the police department, which strangely, given the nature of her childhood, she’d never done before. There was a definite structure to the department and its protocol. She didn’t know if that relieved or scared her. And the reason she didn’t know that was because as much as she wished she could say differently, she didn’t know her brother anymore. She’d never really gotten the chance to know him at all.

“Can I help you with something?”

She heard the voice and looked up into the face of a large man with salt and pepper hair and expressive brown eyes that were narrowed in curiosity.

This man’s voice did not match the one she’d heard on the phone. “I’m waiting for Detective Chas McCall.”

Quiet for several moments, the man observed her. She was beginning to get unnerved, when he spoke again. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

She stared at him for several seconds, completely at a loss. “I’ve been away awhile,” was all she managed to get out.

He frowned. “Donovan Dewitt.
Mayor
Donovan Dewitt. You are Roxanne Tavish, correct?”

She found herself nodding silently. While the idea seemed preposterous now that she was here, she’d hoped to keep herself relatively anonymous during her visit. Clearly that was not to be. Leave it to her to run into the mayor only mere minutes after arriving in town.

She remembered the Dewitt name. Back when she’d lived in Cavern Creek, the Dewitt family had been well respected members of the community, though they hadn’t run in the same circles as her family had. They came from money, if she recalled correctly. Judging from the impeccable style of this
man’s clothing, her memory was right on.

“I was sorry to hear about your aunt. She was a good woman.” His voice was low and even, his expression impassive.

“She was,” Roxy agreed, for lack of anything better.

“I assume you’re here about your brothers.”

“I am,” she answered, though she found herself annoyed at his intrusive personality.

His expression darkened. “Well, good luck. You’re going to need it. Those boys have been cruising in and out of trouble for months now. This whole thing is no surprise to me.”

She didn’t appreciate his remarks and she found herself frowning. “I plan to reserve an opinion on things until after I speak with Detective McCall.”

Dewitt shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet the boys.” The phone in his pocket started to ring and he glanced at it. “I need to take this. Good luck,” he said again, and walked away.

She breathed a sigh of relief once he was gone and checked the clock again. Fifteen minutes had
passed. Fifteen
irritating
minutes.

While she supposed she had to appreciate his position as a mayor looking out for the best interests of his town, Donovan Dewitt was a typical politician. He’d done his best to maintain a pristine, toothy smile with her, but Roxy was smart enough to notice the disgust bubbling underneath the surface of his dark brown eyes. He was not happy to see her back in his town.

Well she had news for him—she wasn’t happy to be back either.

“Excuse me. Are you waiting for someone?”

She jumped, unaware that another man had entered the room and was standing right in front of her, his blue eyes assessing her cryptically. She immediately assessed him back. He didn’t look very old, probably late twenties. He was tall, well-built and had nicely chiseled features to his face. The blue and white police uniform gave him a rather distinguished look. He was handsome in a classic sort of way. There was something slightly familiar about his voice and maybe even his face, though she couldn’t really explain that thought. She decided he
must be Chas McCall. “Are you Detective McCall?”

The man grinned widely. “You got it half right.” He pointed at his rank stripes. “I’m a patrolman. My name’s McCall though. First name’s Josh. You must be waiting for one of my brothers.”

“I’ve been down this road before,” she said, forcing a smile for his benefit. “Chas is the one I’m looking for.”

“Ah. I should have known.” Officer McCall folded his arms over his chest. “Did he know you were coming?”

She narrowed her eyes, a little surprised that this man was so nosy. “I’d prefer to talk to him, if it’s all the same to you. I talked to him earlier. It’s a police matter.”

He looked curious, to say the least, and eyed her duffel bag.

She started to open her mouth, when the double doors swung wide and several men walked in, all wearing plain clothes, and all with rather large guns strapped into their leather shoulder holsters. They screamed testosterone, and immediately Roxy knew one of them was Chas McCall.

“Hey, bro. You’ve got company,” Josh McCall said, not removing his gaze from her face.

Two men looked in her direction, one with an easy smile on his face, the other with a look of scrutiny. Other than the expressions, their faces were absolutely identical. They were obviously twins. Roxy stared, in spite of the fact that at one time she’d been a twin herself.

She didn’t know who was who. What she did know was that if these men were McCalls, the entire family obviously had very good genes. Josh McCall was easy on the eyes. His brothers were drop dead gorgeous. They both had the same light brown hair and clear blue eyes. She guessed their heights to be at least six feet and their ages to be in the early thirties range. Dressed in slacks and button up shirts—one in white, the other in blue—they nearly looked like mirror images. She noted two tiny differences—one had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his tie loosened, the other didn’t. Obviously one was slightly neater than the other.

“They’re twins,” their brother informed her, as though she were too mundane to notice.

“I see that,” she finally said, eyeing first one twin, then the other. Their expressions remained the same—one skeptical, one smiling. The skeptical one finally nodded at her, his expression easing somewhat until his mouth finally broke into a grin.

“She’s probably looking for me.”

His twin stepped forward and gave him a shove. “In your dreams. I’m the one who got called.”

“Why don’t you put them out of their misery and tell them which one you’re looking for?” Josh McCall suggested, more than slightly amused.

“Chas,” she heard herself say, though she didn’t really feel like feeding either one of their egos at this point.

The sloppier one grinned wider. “Told ya.”

“Kiss it,” the other one said. “You’ll be sorry. He’s a slob.”

They bantered momentarily back and forth and then the other men went about their business and left her alone with the man who was apparently Detective Chas McCall. He was certainly not what she had expected.

“Sorry about that. Things around here aren’t
very lively most of the time. We goof around with each other a lot.” He rested his hands on his hips as he perused her carefully. “So how can I help you?”

“You sounded different on the phone,” she said, without thinking first. She wanted the words back but it was of course, too late.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” he eventually said, after studying her face for several seconds. “Do I know you?”

She sighed, exasperated with herself. She’d never been all that good with people. This was one of the reasons she found it hard to hold down a job. Not only that, the fact that he had a rather large gun holstered to his side wasn’t making things any easier for her. She hated guns. “My name is Roxy Tavish. You called me about my aunt’s…” Her voice broke off and she quickly added, “My brothers.”

Surprise crossed his face and he frowned at her. “You hung up on me.”

“I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

“So I gathered.” He looked at her curiously for a moment, then motioned for her to follow him. “We
can talk back here. I have a cubicle.”

“Don’t we all,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and following him.

He tossed a look over his shoulder as he led her through a maze of work areas, and into a cubicle that had to be even messier than the one she’d left behind at the Chronicle. She winced and he grinned at her sheepishly. “I had an office I shared with my brother. We co-command here. He’s a bit of a neat freak. That didn’t last long, so here I am.” He sat down behind his disheveled desk and began digging through the piles of papers that covered it. When she remained standing, he gestured to the chair in front of the desk, which was also piled with papers and God knew what else. “Just toss that stuff on the floor. I’ll deal with it later.”

“And I thought I was bad,” she mumbled, while shoving the papers and miscellaneous office supplies on to the floor with a swish.

He ignored her at first, lifting a folder from the mess on his desk and studying it. Then he looked up and met her gaze, a smile in place on his perfect features. “If this doesn’t offend you, you must be a
slob too.”

She raised a brow. “Not like this, Detective. I assure you, you take the cake.”

He ignored the jab and dug through the file folder. “So, I didn’t think you were coming. What changed your mind?”

“Several things.”

He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he shrugged his shoulders. “Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?”

“I didn’t see the point,” she said frankly, crossing her legs and meeting his gaze. “It wasn’t as though we really had any options to discuss. Dylan and Devon are my brothers. Myra Tavish was my aunt.”

“And?” he prodded, leaning back in his chair and looking at her curiously.

“And my aunt died. My brothers obviously have no one else. That’s what you said, right?”

After a moment, he nodded. “I did. That’s pretty noble of you. They are a big responsibility, especially considering their circumstances.”

“Which are?” she asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

“You want the brutal version or the sugar-coated one?”

“I’ve seen brutal before. I can take it.” She waited while he studied her face again. For some reason, his perusal was making her want to squirm. It was almost as though he were reading her innermost thoughts like a book. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

But then he was a cop. It was in his job description to read people. And that stare was probably some sort of scare tactic. Well, it wasn’t going to work with her. She stared right back, her eyes unblinking. “Just give it to me straight, Detective. I’ve come a long way.”

He was quiet a moment, then shrugged his broad shoulders, taking a pull at his already loosened tie. “Okay. I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but apparently that’s all that’s on the table for you at the moment. Devon’s being charged with first degree murder. He’s a minor, but it’s likely the prosecutor will go for getting him tried as an adult.”

She felt her heart clench in response to this
news. She’d known things were bad. She hadn’t realized how bad until now. “He’s only fourteen.”

“He’s fourteen—nearly fifteen,” Chas agreed. “And he was found in the house, at the time of the murder, with the weapon that killed your aunt in his hand.”

“God,” was all she could say, her head shaking involuntarily.

“I realize this has got to be a hard thing to face. I’m sorry.”

She brushed his comments of pity aside with her hand. “I can take the truth, Detective. Sugar-coating the outside doesn’t change the center of the candy.”

Clearing his throat, he folded his hands in front of him. “I think you should also know that your other brother, Dylan, originally told police he believed his brother shot your aunt. He has since changed his story from he isn’t completely sure, to not talking at all.” He leaned back in the chair again. “So you see my dilemma here. This is a very messy, and rather touchy situation.”

She stared back at him, determined to hold her
ground. “What I see, is that you have two very frightened young boys, whose aunt was killed in the house they lived in. That doesn’t make them guilty of anything, Detective McCall.”

He raised a brow. “The fact that one of them held the bloody gun in his hand does. Not only that, neither boy is being particularly cooperative. One of them tried to bite my brother.”

“One of them tried to bite your brother? Good grief, why?”

“Apparently Dylan didn’t want to take a ride in the police cruiser. I don’t know why, seeing as how he’s been there often enough.”

She shut her eyes, tension threatening to pound on her skull in a furious rhythm. “Is this your way of telling me Dylan’s been in trouble before?”

“Several times. And Devon’s no stranger to the department either. As recently as last month he was brought in for peeping in the windows of one of his female classmates—who also, incidentally, happens to be the mayor’s seventeen-year-old daughter.”

Roxy’s faith took another dive and she rubbed her temples. That explained the colder than cold
greeting she’d received from Mayor Dewitt. “What about Dylan? What’s he done?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Mostly mischievous behavior. Smoking pot, vandalism.”

“He’s twelve.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Ms. Tavish.”

“I thought my aunt had them under control. I thought everything was okay.” She shook her head in dismay. “I had no idea.”

“How could you? This kind of thing isn’t easily discussed in the annual Christmas card.”

The dig hit its mark and she flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he relented. “That was out of line. We should stick to the facts here—”

“No, don’t bother,” she interrupted, glaring at him. “I’m guessing you know all about me. I’m sure my father left quite a legacy around here.”

He just stared at her silently.

“Don’t judge me, Detective. You know nothing about my relationship with my father—not the real story anyway.”

“No, I don’t. I do know that Devon is in serious
trouble. He’s belligerent and violent at times. He’s refusing to eat and refusing to talk.”

“He’ll talk to me.”

“What makes you think so?” he asked, a rather sardonic smirk on his face. “Because you’re so close after all these years?”

“Because I’m his sister,” she snapped, hating her own self-doubt. She’d never been able to help herself, let alone anyone else. But she wasn’t about to let this sanctimonious creep know that. She cleared her throat, struggling to retain her dignity. “I want to help him, Detective McCall. At one time, Devon and I were close.”