Grave Echoes: A Kate Waters Mystery Read Online Free Page B
Author: Erin Cole
even looked like his daughter Julie, he thought: long dark hair, high cheekbones, thin frame, and young enough to fall prey to trouble.
Wells looked at the road and then back at the girl. Too many people drove fast, he thought, but 20 mph over the speed limit seemed excessive and usually involved a chase, drugs, or youthful dares. Jevanna Waters didn’t seem to be involved in any one of those.
***
The dashboard read 4:42 am and shadows still hung heavy when Kate pulled into the graveled parking lot alongside a clean and sporty silver Land Rover belonging to Stewart Reese, Operations Officer of the PNGS. Kate predicted he’d probably be decked out in his latest L.L. Bean attire. Far from a role model, Stewart’s most recent game of pursuit involved the new intern Nicole Korter. But Stewart Reese wasn’t just married. His wife, Joanna, was also expecting their second child in a few months. The audacity of his flirting had tempted Kate to put an end to his careless ways by a simple phone call. But who was she to get involved and possibly lose her job? No, today would end like all the others—frustrated by his inappropriateness, misdirected priorities, and a stuffy office reeking of men’s cologne. At least Mrs. Reese could have another day of normalcy, she thought to herself, as she gathered her things from the jeep.
The green and brown forest service building backed up against the north ridge of Portland’s industrial region, a ravine that bordered Forest Park, one of the country’s largest city parks. A 12ft. high, barbed-wired fence strung the perimeter of the building and parking lot with video cameras positioned at the front, sides, and back of the property. Even iron bars caged the windows. One would think it was a top-secret government building, and though the PNGS was funded in part by the government and functioned as a partnership organization with the USGS, it was mostly just a regular business with expensive equipment.
Cars lined the parking lot—everyone already had arrived, even Nicole Kate groaned, hiking her bags of equipment and books up the front steps. The lights outside the building shone brightly, casting a glare against the tinted front windows, but Kate could still see figures standing near the seismograph inside. She imagined the black scrawls across the paper roll, long, black claw marks interspersed with clusters of short scratches, which revealed the extent of ground movement miles below the summit of Mt. Hood. Excited to learn the details, she picked up her pace.
Hoping to sneak through and conceal her late arrival, Kate opened the door gently. The office bustled with a myriad of flashing lights and terminals; faxes and phones rang incessantly; and an uproar of voices chattered of eruption, earthquakes, and emergency evacuations. Computer screens, mainframes, printers, seismograms, clinometers, and a heap of other geological instruments piled on top of old, wooden desks and tables. Cables snaked across the carpet under plastic bridges, and several geographical maps and charts plastered the bone white walls. Ironically, it looked like the epicenter of an earthquake.
Stewart stood in front of the seismological graph talking with Sean and Nicole. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, his other propped up on his hip holding back his jacket in a GQ pose. As she had expected, he was dressed in corduroys, a wool vest, blazer, and his brown suede boots, probably hoping to catch a spot on the evening news. Though he was generously handsome, Kate felt his personality lacked the same luster as his glossy, speckled gray/brown hair. However, it was obvious Nicole thought differently. She stood bashfully next to him and gazed up admiringly with her large, brown puppy-dog eyes. She was young, pretty, early twenties, but her mannerisms still carried an awkward insecurity. Her slick blond hair was done up in a ponytail, and her face portrayed fresh innocence, as if she should be holding a basket of
Wells looked at the road and then back at the girl. Too many people drove fast, he thought, but 20 mph over the speed limit seemed excessive and usually involved a chase, drugs, or youthful dares. Jevanna Waters didn’t seem to be involved in any one of those.
***
The dashboard read 4:42 am and shadows still hung heavy when Kate pulled into the graveled parking lot alongside a clean and sporty silver Land Rover belonging to Stewart Reese, Operations Officer of the PNGS. Kate predicted he’d probably be decked out in his latest L.L. Bean attire. Far from a role model, Stewart’s most recent game of pursuit involved the new intern Nicole Korter. But Stewart Reese wasn’t just married. His wife, Joanna, was also expecting their second child in a few months. The audacity of his flirting had tempted Kate to put an end to his careless ways by a simple phone call. But who was she to get involved and possibly lose her job? No, today would end like all the others—frustrated by his inappropriateness, misdirected priorities, and a stuffy office reeking of men’s cologne. At least Mrs. Reese could have another day of normalcy, she thought to herself, as she gathered her things from the jeep.
The green and brown forest service building backed up against the north ridge of Portland’s industrial region, a ravine that bordered Forest Park, one of the country’s largest city parks. A 12ft. high, barbed-wired fence strung the perimeter of the building and parking lot with video cameras positioned at the front, sides, and back of the property. Even iron bars caged the windows. One would think it was a top-secret government building, and though the PNGS was funded in part by the government and functioned as a partnership organization with the USGS, it was mostly just a regular business with expensive equipment.
Cars lined the parking lot—everyone already had arrived, even Nicole Kate groaned, hiking her bags of equipment and books up the front steps. The lights outside the building shone brightly, casting a glare against the tinted front windows, but Kate could still see figures standing near the seismograph inside. She imagined the black scrawls across the paper roll, long, black claw marks interspersed with clusters of short scratches, which revealed the extent of ground movement miles below the summit of Mt. Hood. Excited to learn the details, she picked up her pace.
Hoping to sneak through and conceal her late arrival, Kate opened the door gently. The office bustled with a myriad of flashing lights and terminals; faxes and phones rang incessantly; and an uproar of voices chattered of eruption, earthquakes, and emergency evacuations. Computer screens, mainframes, printers, seismograms, clinometers, and a heap of other geological instruments piled on top of old, wooden desks and tables. Cables snaked across the carpet under plastic bridges, and several geographical maps and charts plastered the bone white walls. Ironically, it looked like the epicenter of an earthquake.
Stewart stood in front of the seismological graph talking with Sean and Nicole. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, his other propped up on his hip holding back his jacket in a GQ pose. As she had expected, he was dressed in corduroys, a wool vest, blazer, and his brown suede boots, probably hoping to catch a spot on the evening news. Though he was generously handsome, Kate felt his personality lacked the same luster as his glossy, speckled gray/brown hair. However, it was obvious Nicole thought differently. She stood bashfully next to him and gazed up admiringly with her large, brown puppy-dog eyes. She was young, pretty, early twenties, but her mannerisms still carried an awkward insecurity. Her slick blond hair was done up in a ponytail, and her face portrayed fresh innocence, as if she should be holding a basket of
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