White Fire

25

Chief Stanley Morris had shut his office door and given his secretary orders not to disturb him for any reason whatsoever while he updated his corkboard case-line. It was how the chief managed complex cases: reducing everything to color-coded three-by-five cards, each with a single fact, a piece of evidence, a photograph, or a witness. These he would organize chronologically, pin to a corkboard, and then — with string — connect the cards, looking for patterns, clues, and relationships.

It was a standard approach and it had worked well for him before. But as he surveyed the chaos on his desk, the corkboard overflowing with a rainbow of cards, the strings going in every direction, he began to wonder if he needed a different system. He felt himself growing more frustrated by the minute.

The phone buzzed and he picked it up. “For heaven’s sake, Shirley, I asked not to be disturbed!”

“Sorry, Chief,” said the voice, “but there’s someone here you really must see—”

“I don’t care if it’s the pope. I’m busy!”

“It’s Captain Stacy Bowdree.”

It took a minute for the ramifications of this to sink in. Then he felt himself go cold. This is all I need. “Oh. Jesus…All right, send her in.”

Before he could even prepare himself, the door opened and a striking woman strode in. Captain Bowdree had short auburn hair, a handsome face, and a pair of intense, dark brown eyes. She was all of six feet tall and somewhere in her midthirties.

He rose and held out his hand. “Chief Stanley Morris. This is quite a surprise.”

“Stacy Bowdree.” She gave his hand a firm shake. Even though she was dressed in casual clothes — jeans, a white shirt, and a leather vest — her bearing was unmistakably military. He offered her a seat, and she took it.

“First,” said the chief, “I want to apologize for the problems with the exhumation of your, ah, ancestor. I know how upsetting it must be. We here at the Roaring Fork PD believed the developers had done a thorough search, and I was dismayed, truly dismayed, when your letter was brought to my attention—”

Bowdree flashed the chief a warm smile and waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset. Truly.”

“Well, thank you for your understanding. I…We’ll make it right, I promise you.” The chief realized he was almost babbling.

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “Here’s the thing. I’ve decided to take the remains back for reburial in our old family plot in Kentucky once the research is complete. That’s why I’m here. So you see, given the circumstances there’s no longer any reason to rebury Emmett in the original location, as I originally requested.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. It makes things simpler.”

“Say…is that coffee I smell?”

“Would you like a cup?”

“Thank you. Black, no sugar.”

The chief buzzed Shirley and put in the order, with a second for himself. There was a brief, awkward silence. “So…” he said. “How long have you been in town?”

“Not long, a few days. I wanted to get the lay of the land, so to speak, before making my presence known. I realize my letter made quite a stir, and I didn’t want to freak everyone out by storming into town like the Lone Ranger. You’re the first person, in fact, that I’ve introduced myself to.”

“Let me then welcome you most warmly to Roaring Fork.” The chief felt hugely relieved by all she was saying — and also by her friendly, easygoing manner. “We’re glad to have you. Where are you staying?”

“I was in Woody Creek, but I’m looking for a place in town. Having a little trouble finding something I can afford.”

“I’m afraid we’re in the high season. I wish I could give you some advice, but I think the town is pretty much full up.” He recalled the tumultuous, acrimonious press conference and wondered if things would stay that way.

The coffee arrived and Bowdree accepted it eagerly, took a sip. “Not your usual police station coffee, I must say.”

“I’m a bit of a coffee aficionado. We’ve got a coffee roaster in town who does a mean French roast.”

She took another big sip, then another. “I don’t want to keep you — I can see you’re busy. I just wanted to drop in to introduce myself and tell you about my plans for the remains.” She set down the cup. “And I also wondered if you could help me. Where exactly are the remains now, and how do I get there? I wanted to see them and meet the woman who’s doing the research.”

The chief explained, drawing her a little map of The Heights. “I’ll call Heights security,” he said. “Tell them you’re coming.”

“Thanks.” Captain Bowdree rose, once again impressing the chief with her stature. She was a damn fine-looking woman, supple and strong. “You’ve been really helpful.”

Morris rose again hastily and took her hand. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please let me know.”

He watched her leave, feeling like the week from hell might finally be ending on a positive note. But then his gaze drifted to the corkboard, and the chaos of cards and strings on his desk, and the old feeling of dread returned. The week from hell, he realized, was far from over.