Bitter Waters by Wen Spencer Page A

the open cases long distance. A quick glance at the files showed that they were floundering.
    They truly needed Sam as a third full-time investigator.
    Hampered by Kittanning, it took Ukiah most of the morning plugging holes to keep the cases afloat. He had just fed Kittanning, changed his diaper, and started to settle him for his morning nap when the front door opened and closed softly.
    â€œUkiah?” Indigo called.
    â€œStay here.” Ukiah tucked a blanket around him. Kittanning fussed quietly as Ukiah walked away, wanting attention.
    â€œI’ll be right back.”
    Indigo waited in the foyer, stylishly composed as always in a black wool pantsuit and white silk blouse. Her only jewelrywas a strand of pearls, which gleamed with soft luster at her throat. With her raven-black hair combed, and her clothes still carefully pressed, only a slight smudging under her eyes indicated that she had been working for hours on a case.
    Ukiah felt a smile take control of his face. He wrapped himself around her compact serenity, burying his face into the warm hollow of her neck. Throughout the long difficult case in Oregon, just her voice had acted as his wellspring of peace, soothing away troubles with unflappable reason. In this chaotic morning, it was a blessing to hold her tight.
    â€œWelcome home,” she breathed.
    â€œI’m so glad to be home safe,” Ukiah said.
    Yet, there was a tension, a flaw, to Indigo’s stillness. She hid it well as she hugged him tight, and then, responding to Kittanning’s burble in the next room, went a shade too quickly to his office, saying, “Oh, you have Kittanning here!” with a micro-tremor in her voice that no one but Ukiah would have heard.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Ukiah asked, following her.
    Indigo had draped a blanket over her shoulder and cradled Kittanning to her now. She glanced to Ukiah; lips pursed that melted slowly to a sad smile. “You’re learning to read me too well.”
    He put his arms around her and she nestled against him, Kittanning in the protective center. Man, woman, and child. Ukiah felt complete. This was right. This was good.
    â€œTell me what’s wrong.”
    â€œSomething upset me, but I’m fine now.” She tilted her head up to be kissed. Her mouth was wonderful because it was hers. He could feel her tension, though, in the tautness of her muscles.
    â€œYou’re still upset. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
    She sighed kisses along the line of his chin. “It’s work.” She was quiet for several minutes, breathing warmth against his neck. “Four children were kidnapped from foster homes in the last two weeks. A landfill worker found one of them early this morning. She was only a year old. The worker thought she was a very realistic doll at first, naked in the garbage.”
    What did one say to someone that witnessed such an awfulsight? He kissed her temple, only able to give her wordless comfort.
    â€œI had to break the news to her parents. The autopsy is in a few hours and I’m—I’m sitting in on it.”
    â€œYou’ll find who did this and make them pay.”
    She turned in his arms and kissed with bruising desperation. He tried to pour comfort out to her. With a quiet whimper, she drank it in. Kittanning protested, sensing their distress. Ukiah took his son from Indigo, and put him into the car seat with a gentle command of “sleep.” Slipping a thumb into his yawning mouth, Kittanning slept.
    â€œLet’s go upstairs,” Indigo whispered, reaching for the handle of the car seat.
    He hid a moment of unease. This was his second home. Before he had gone to Oregon, he had been comfortable being intimate here. He was suddenly aware of Max’s ownership of the house; to make love here felt like marking another male’s territory. Only he knew Max didn’t care, and he certainly didn’t have a place of his own, except his