Bitter Sweets by G. A. McKevett

asked, crowding into tlhe tiny room beside Savannah. Her own fear echoed in his shaky voice.

    “No,” she said. “Thank God it isn’t.” Half of Savannah’s heart rejoiced, as the other half broke. Tears flooded her eyes and sorrow choked her throat as she added, “But it’s her mother. It’s Lisa.”

    The details of what she was seeing; rushed over her, a suffocating tsunami of crushing reality. Th^e lifeless, staring eyes. The wrists and ankles bound tightly wilth thin wire. The neat round gunshot hole in the forehead. ‘The blood and tissue spilling from the massive exit wound in the back.

    “Dead?” Dirk asked.

    “Yes,” she whispered. “Very dead.”

    CHAPTER SEVEN

    “Oh, my God! What happened? Is she...?” Tammy Hart stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her hazel eyes wide with shock as she stared down at the body on the floor.

    “Yes, honey, she is.” Savannah walked over to Tammy and placed one hand on her shoulder. She could feel the younger woman shaking violently as the color drained from her cheeks.

    “You two should get the hell outta here,” Dirk said, his tone far more gentle than his words.

    Transfixed on the corpse, Tammy ignored him and took a few halting steps toward the victim. Savannah watched with misgivings as Tammy knelt beside Lisa Mallock’s remains.

    “An entry wound to the front of the head,” Tammy murmured in a strangely flat monotone...a student reciting a hard learned lesson. “Exit wound in the back. Close range powder burns. Looks like a large caliber-”

    Her voice broke with a sob and she began to gag. Savannah reached for her and turned her around, forcing her to look away. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said, pressing a big-sisterly kiss to Tammy’s forehead. “Dirk can take it from here.”

    “But it’s our fault.” Tammy looked up at Savannah and the misery and guilt Savannah saw registered on her pretty face went straight to her heart. It wasn’t as though Tammy was saying anything new .. . anything that wasn’t already slicing like a dull razor through Savannah’s own mind and conscience.

    “It’s not anybody’s fault,” Dirk said, “except for the son of a bitch that pulled the trigger.”

    “And we know who that was.” Tammy tried to turn and take another look, but Savannah’s hands tightened on her shoulders, preventing her.

    “No, we don’t. At least, not for sure,” Savannah told her, wishing she could believe her own words.

    “That’s right,” Dirk agreed. “You never really know who done it, ‘til you know for sure who done it.”

    “What?” Now Tammy looked confused as well as upset.

    “The point is ...” Savannah took her by the hand and pulled her out of the cramped bedroom and into the main living area. “... that Dirk has work to do, and we’re only keeping him from doing it.”

    “But we could help him,” Tammy protested. “That’s what we do for a living, right?”

    Savannah looked back at Dirk and gave him a sad, sick smile. More than anything in the world, she wanted to stay, to work this case through with him. They had been partners for so many years, it was almost impossible to walk away.

    “We shouldn’t be here,” she told Tammy. “Dirk is already going to be in trouble for bringing us-me, in particular-with him to a crime scene. We don’t want to make things any harder for him.”

    Savannah turned back to Dirk and mouthed the words,

    “I’m sorry.”

    He growled and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Just get goin’, both of you. I’ll give you a ring later, when I know what’s what.” Pulling a small, cellular phone-his only capitulation to advanced technology-from his inside coat pocket, he punched in some numbers.

    “Coulter here,” Savannah heard him say as she hurried out the door of the cabin and down the dirt path with a weeping Tammy in tow. “I got a stiff at the Whispering Pines Resort on Lake Arroyo. Yeah, that’s right. Better get a wagon rollin’ and