Dead on the Fourth of July (David Dean Mysteries)

"My God!" said Cynthia. "Do you think she chased the poor boy down the mountain?"

"I think there's a good chance it was either her or Fitzgerald. The first thing she asked me when I arrived at the scene was if I had seen him. It sounded as if she expected him to be on the mountain. I know she tried unsuccessfully to raise him on the radio when she first got the call about the wreck."

"Are you sure it was a sheriff's car you saw earlier?" Fred asked.

"No. But that was my first impression. I'm not even sure now the siren came from the same direction. Sound travels funny up there-it echoes, and I was a good distance away. But Fitzgerald's absence still bothers me."

"If he'd do something like that-chase that poor lad down the mountain and then leave the scene-he'd switch the bones," Fred said.

"Much as I detest the man, we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Cynthia said.

Dean didn't answer. Instead, he asked Fred about his detective work. "Did you do any more checking on Ed and Edith Plotke- the people from the 1961 newspaper-and missing Josh the miner?"

"Didn't have time, but I should tomorrow. The trial may wrap up by then. I'll check further on that storage facility ownership, too." Fred made a note on his pad. "Are you going over to Diversions Coffee House tomorrow and talk to the curmudgeons?"

"I'll do it in the morning," Dean answered.

"I hope Roger is there. He grew up in Ouray."

Dean nodded. "Learning about Ed Plotke is still the best lead we have on finding the identity of Martha's bones. But Seymour Fitzgerald is still on my mind. Too many coincidences are beginning to add up."

"There's more to this you're not telling us, isn't there?" Cynthia asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I did a stupid thing last night." He explained how he'd tossed the liquor bottle he found at the site of the wrecked Jeep.

"Whatever made you do that?" Cynthia asked.

"Pure frustration. The whole scene was horrifying. I guess I was letting off my anger at everything. I know better. It's not as if I wasn't in police work long enough to know that, but Billy's death was such a god-awful waste of a young life. All I could think of was Randy and how lucky we are that he's got his act together in spite of this business with Jen-how much better off he is than Billy- and Jen than Melissa." Cynthia took his hand and looked away.

"Wasn't that bottle evidence?" Fred asked.

"I guess it was. I certainly didn't have any right to chuck it."