Free Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) by C. A. Newsome Page B

ago. It’s just been identified as George Munce.”
    Kate Onstad blinked several times.
She chewed her lip. “George is dead?”
    “Yes, Ma’am.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Neither do we. We thought you
could help us out. When was the last time you saw George?” Brent
asked.
    “Five days ago,
Sunday.”
    “Where was that?”
    Kate continued to chew her lip. She
looked at Brent, then at Peter. “In my motel room. He came by
before he went in to work.”
    “Ms. Onstad,” Peter asked, “what
was the nature of your relationship with George Munce?”
    Kate appeared to crumple. Her eyes
shimmered as tears trembled onto her cheeks. She cried silently,
her mouth open and quivering. Peter and Brent waited while she
gathered herself.
    “George and I knew each other in
high school. We reconnected on the internet a few months ago and
fell in love. I hadn’t seen him in thirty years. I took time off
from work so we could figure out how far we were going to take this
thing. We were talking about getting married.” She smiled sadly. “I
can’t believe he’s gone.”
    “Did anyone else know about your
relationship? Anyone at all?”
    “No one. I didn’t dare confide in
anyone. None of my friends would have understood me taking up with
a married man. My high school friends would have died if they knew
I was in contact with George. He was a bit of a hoodlum when we
were in school. Tell you the truth, it’s a relief to be able to
talk about it now. I can’t believe George told anyone. He worked so
hard, he had so much at stake.”
    “What was at stake?” Brent
asked.
    “George hadn’t been happy for a
long time before we found each other again, but he had a family to
think about. He didn’t want to hurt Monica unless it was absolutely
necessary. She wasn’t always . . . stable.
    “He was willing to let things go
on the way they were until we met by accident on Facebook. He said
if he got a divorce, neither of them would have been able to keep
the house. It would have meant uprooting his stepdaughter. I could
have helped him with the mortgage, but forcing Stacy to accept a
new stepmother right away would have been too much.
    “There was also the risk Monica
would take Stacy and move away. He was concerned for Stacy’s
welfare, if Monica had to deal with being a single parent. Such a
mess. All we wanted was to be happy. Didn’t we deserve
that?”
    Such a loaded question. Peter
decided to dodge that one, too.
    “Ms. Onstad, you came to the park
yesterday, and you came back today. Why?”
    The sad smile flitted across her
face. “George loved the woods. We met up here several times to hike
with Daisy. He said when we were here, he could believe there was
no one else in the world but us. We had a little spot where we
could be alone and . . . just talk.” Her rising blush suggested to
Peter that “talk” was euphemistic.
    “Were you aware of the deer cull?
Hikers aren’t permitted in the woods except on
Tuesdays.”
    “Oh, well, that. George said there
was no need to concern ourselves since any deer hunter who knew
anything wouldn’t hang around in the middle of the day. We weren’t
the only ones in the woods. That woman who told me you were coming,
I’ve seen her back there with those dogs, down in the
gorge.”
    Peter winced.
    “Yesterday and today,” Peter
reminded her.
    “I was supposed to meet George
here Monday morning. I’m staying over on Central Parkway, by the
Big Boy. I went there for breakfast. When I came back, my tire was
flat. I tried calling George, but his phone was off. Then I got a
message from him saying that it was over. I sat in my motel room
for three days and cried.
    “Yesterday I woke up and decided I
wasn’t going to be brushed off like that. I figured if I waited
here, I would catch him next time he brought Daisy to the park. I
thought I deserved to know why.”
    “You were only here a few minutes
before you decided to leave. What happened today?”