Читать книгу Dead Certain - Carla Cassidy - Страница 11

He’d hoped she would call, but he really hadn’t been expecting her call so soon. Riley sat in the ice cream parlor that was the bottom floor of the Redbud Bed and Breakfast in the center square of Cherokee Corners.

He was early. She’d told him to meet her here at seven, and it was only now just a little after six. But he’d decided to come early. He’d ordered a cup of coffee, taken a chair facing the door and now waited for Savannah Tallfeather to join him.

She hadn’t mentioned the news clipping in her call, only that she’d like to meet with him. He sipped his coffee, watching the people who came and went as he waited.

The ice cream parlor was a popular place. He wondered if it was always so busy or if Saturday nights brought families out for ice cream. Certainly it was ice cream weather—hot and dry like only Oklahoma could be at this time of year.

The front page of the evening edition of the Cherokee Corners newspaper had been filled with the crime that had taken place the night before at the James ranch. Along with the facts that Thomas James was in critical but stable condition and Rita Birdsong James was missing, the article also was a tribute to the couple’s contributions to the city.

Thomas James had served as chief of police for ten years, and before that had been on the force for twenty years. During his career he’d received a variety of awards, and recognitions of honor.

His wife, Rita Birdsong James, was no less visible in the community. A full-blooded Cherokee, she was the driving force behind the Cherokee Cultural Center. Her goal had been to educate through entertainment and re-creations of the Cherokee past and present. Both were described as pillars of the community.

Riley’s parents hadn’t been community icons to anyone but him. His father had been a simple man, a carpenter, and his mother had been a housewife who loved to crochet. In the evenings they had often worked on jigsaw puzzles together.

Two couples, seemingly very different, and yet they both had suffered a similar fate. The pain he felt when he thought of his parents had lessened somewhat with time, but it certainly hadn’t gone away.

The most difficult part was that there had been no closure. Sure, the police had closed the file, branded his mother a murderer on the run. But he knew better. He knew that somewhere the real killer of his father ran free and the fate of his mother had yet to be learned.

He’d just finished his first cup of coffee when Savannah walked in. Her gaze locked with his, and in that instant he felt a connection like none he’d ever felt before.

He saw the confusion, the pain in her eyes, felt it resonate with aching familiarity inside him. He was certain it was the connection of two survivors, of two people whose lives had been turned upside down by violent, senseless crime.

His impulse was to stand and draw her into his arms, hold her tight to take away the chill that he knew wrapped tightly around her heart.

But, of course he didn’t act on his impulse. She was a virtual stranger, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate her right from the get-go. He stood as she approached his table. “Officer Tallfeather,” he said in greeting.

“Please, make it Savannah,” she said, and waved him back into his chair. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.” She walked over to the counter and greeted the woman working there. The two hugged and spoke for a minute or two, then Savannah returned to the table and sat across from him. “My cousin,” she explained.

Before she could say anything else, her cousin appeared at their table. She placed a coffee mug before Savannah, then filled both Savannah’s and Riley’s cups.

“Alyssa, this is Riley Frazier,” Savannah said. “Riley, my cousin, Alyssa Whitefeather.”

Alyssa’s eyes were as dark and as filled with pain as Savannah’s. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured in a soft, low voice.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Riley replied. “I’m sorry for the pain your family is experiencing right now.”

She nodded, then touched Savannah’s shoulder. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“Thanks, Alyssa,” Savannah said.

Once again Savannah directed her gaze at him as Alyssa left the table. She wrapped her long, slender fingers around the coffee cup as if seeking warmth.

“I read the newspaper article you gave me,” she began.

“I figured you had when you called.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “Tell me about it. Tell me about the night it happened.”

Riley leaned back in his chair, for a moment rebelling at the thought of revisiting that horrible night. And yet he’d known she’d want him to tell her about it. He’d known when he’d given her that news clipping that he would have to call up everything about that night.

“Before I tell you what happened to them, let me tell you about my parents…about what kind of people they were.”

“All right,” she agreed.

“They were quiet people and lived an uncomplicated life. My father was a carpenter, my mother a homemaker. He liked to putter in his garden in his spare time and my mother loved to cook and crochet. In the evenings they’d either watch old movies together or work on jigsaw puzzles that they set up on a card table in the living room.”

“You were close to them.” Her voice was as unemotional as her beautiful features, but her eyes spoke volumes, radiating with pain. He just didn’t know if the pain was for him or for herself or perhaps a combination of both.

“I was their only child and yes, I was close to them.” He thought of the nights when his choice had been to go to the local honky-tonk or spend the evening at his parents’ house. He’d often chosen his parents’ company. “They were good people.”

“So, what happened…that night?” The words came from her in hesitation, as if she was sorry to have to ask him such a question.

He raked a hand across his lower jaw and forced himself to go back to that night. “I’d been over to their house that afternoon to show my dad some blueprints of new homes. I had a six-o’clock appointment with clients and so left my folks’ place about five-thirty.”

He paused to take a drink of his coffee and felt himself plunging back in time, pulled back into the nightmare. “It was after eight when the clients left, and I realized I’d left some of the blueprints at my folks’ house, so I drove back there.”

On one of the walls of the restaurant was a beautiful painting of a redbud tree in bloom. He stared at the picture as he continued. “The front door was open, which really wasn’t unusual. I walked into the living room and my father was on the floor in front of his chair. I knew in an instant he was dead.”

Grief, as rich and raw as the moment it had happened, seared through him. He cleared his throat. “I picked up the phone and called for help, then went in search of my mother, certain that I’d find her dead, as well.”

“But she wasn’t there?” Savannah leaned forward, her eyes more alive than before.

“A suitcase was missing, along with some of her clothing, and she immediately was placed at the top of a very short list of suspects.” It was impossible for him to keep the edge of bitterness from his voice as he remembered how he’d fought with the police, begging them to look for another killer. “I was also placed on the top of the list, but only for a brief time.”

“Your appointment was your alibi?” she asked.

He nodded. “That and the fact that when I left my parents’ place that evening both my mom and dad walked me to my car. One of the neighbors was outside and was able to verify that when I left the house my parents were alive and well.”

“That was two years ago. What did you find out about your mother? How does the case stand now?” She flushed, her cinnamon skin turning a deeper shade of red. “I mean, I’m sorry for what happened to your father.”

He smiled, hoping by the gesture he let her know there was nothing to apologize for, that he understood the reason for the questions before she offered any sympathy. His smile faded as he continued to look at her.

“My mother has never been found.” He didn’t mean the words to sound as stark as they had. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“And your father’s case?” she asked softly.

“Is officially closed. The local authorities are certain my mother is responsible and probably fled the country.”

Once again her fingers curled around her mug. “And what do you think?”

This time it was he who leaned forward and held her gaze intently. “I know my mother had nothing to do with my father’s death. I know it with all my heart, with all my soul, and nothing and nobody will ever make me believe otherwise. If there’s anything in this world I’m dead certain of, it’s that.”

He frowned and leaned back in his chair, realizing he’d become loud and had drawn the attention of the other patrons. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“Please, don’t apologize,” she replied. “I feel exactly the same way about my mother.”

There was more life in her eyes now, a flash of determination Riley could easily identify with. “Are they already saying your mother is a suspect?”

“Yeah. At the moment that’s what the evidence points to, and the police will follow the evidence.” She stared down into her coffee cup for a long moment.

He remained silent, giving her time to deal with whatever emotions might be reeling through her. She looked utterly vulnerable with her eyes downcast, displaying the long length of her dark lashes.

She had delicate features, a slender neck and small bones. He’d noticed her scent when she’d first sat down, a fragrance that reminded him of spring days and full-blooming flowers.

How long had it been since he’d noticed the smell of a woman? How long since he’d noticed the curve of a slender neck, the delicacy of feminine hands, the thrust of shapely breasts?

It had been since Patsy. Too long. Something long dormant inside him stirred as he sat watching her, smelling her fresh, feminine scent.

Finally she looked up, her eyes the rich brown of deep chocolate. “What do you think happened to your mother, Riley?”

A sharp shaft of pain drove through him, banishing the momentary warmth that had filled him. “I really don’t know. Over the past twenty-two months I’ve come up with hundreds of possibilities, each one more outrageous than the last. She got hit over the head and is wandering around somewhere with no memory of who she is. She became part of the witness-protection program and had to build a new life for herself.”

He flashed her a wry grin. “Hell, one night I got desperate enough, drunk enough that I checked to make sure there hadn’t been any UFO sightings on the night she disappeared. I thought maybe she’d been sucked up into a spaceship as an example of a human being with a perfect heart and soul.”

To his surprise, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. Her skin was warm. “I’m so sorry for you. It must be horrible—the not knowing.” She drew her hand back as if suddenly self-conscious. A fierce determination swept over her features. “But I’m sure my mother is going to turn up anytime now. It’s all just been a mistake, a terrible misunderstanding of some sort.”

He didn’t try to contradict her. He knew how desperately she was clinging to that certainty at the moment. And he hoped she was right. He hoped it all was a terrible misunderstanding and Rita Birdsong James would be found safe and sound and innocent of the charge of attempting to kill her husband.

Savannah took another sip of her coffee, her thoughts racing. Cop thoughts and woman thoughts battled inside her. The crime that had occurred to his family was remarkably similar to what appeared to have happened to hers. Did he have any idea the power of his hypnotic blue eyes?

Was the connection she felt to him that of two people whose lives had been touched by violence, or was she drawn to him because he stirred something inside her that reminded her that she was not just a cop, not just a victim, but a woman as well?

This thought irritated her, and she averted her gaze from him. Brown eyes, that’s what she had loved. Eyes the color of her own, filled with laughter, filled with love, that’s what she had lost.

“Did the police attempt to find your mother?” she asked, grasping at the cop inside her rather than the lonely woman. “Usually when somebody disappears there’s a paper trail of some kind.”

He nodded and she couldn’t help but notice the rich shine of his dark-brown hair beneath the artificial lights overhead. “The authorities checked for activity on their bank account and credit cards, but there has been none in the nearly two years since it happened.”

She shoved her half-empty cup aside. “There’s no way to ignore the similarities in the two incidents,” she said.

“That’s why I thought it was important I make contact with you last night. Scott called me as soon as he heard the first report over his scanner, and that report indicated a man attacked in his living room and his wife missing. Scott thought I’d be interested since it seemed so much like what had happened to my family.”

“But, despite the similarities, it’s possible one has nothing to do with the other,” she added hurriedly. She couldn’t imagine her mother missing for two years. Savannah couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing where her mother was for another two minutes.

“I’d guess that it’s far too early in your investigation to draw any kind of conclusions,” he agreed. “But if you’re interested, I have copies of all the records pertaining to the crime against my parents. I’ve got witness lists, detective notes, everything.”

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. Family members rarely saw those kinds of things.

“I had a friend on the Sycamore Ridge police force,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “Anyway, you’re welcome to see anything I have. Of course, nothing I have will help if it’s not the same kind of thing.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But I really don’t think it would help much.” She didn’t want to believe there was any connection between what had happened to his family and what had happened to hers. After all, his father had died and his mother had never been found.

Suddenly she wanted to be away from him, needed to be away from him. It was almost as if she felt that if she spent too much time here with him, his tragedy would become her own.

“Thank you so much for meeting with me,” she said, and rose from her chair.

“No problem.” He got up, as well. He was taller than she remembered from the night before—tall with broad shoulders and slender hips. It was the physique of a man who worked a job of physical labor. He began to pull his wallet from his back pocket, but she waved her hand.

“Please, the coffee is on me.”

She was grateful he didn’t try to fight her for it. She was far too tired, far too emotionally fragile to fight over something as inconsequential as a dollar cup of coffee.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said as he walked to the door of the shop.

“Thanks for the information,” she replied. Together they stepped outside, where night had fallen and the surrounding stores had closed up for the night. The night brought with it a terrifying sense of loss as she realized that her mother had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours.

“Your father…is he doing all right?”

“He’s hanging in there. He’s a stubborn Irishman with a hard head.”

He quirked a dark brow upward. “Irish, huh? I would have never guessed. You and your sister and brother don’t look Irish.”

“My father always teased that Mom wasn’t happy unless she dominated everything, including the gene pool.” She swallowed hard as a wave of emotion swept over her. “It was nice meeting you, Riley,” she said, and held her hand out to him.

“I wish it had been under different circumstances.” He reached for her hand, but to her surprise instead pulled her into an awkward hug. “I’m so sorry about your family,” he said into her hair. “I hope…I pray that everything turns out okay.” He released her as quickly as he’d hugged her, then murmured a good-night and walked away.

She stood on the sidewalk, shell-shocked, a bundle of exposed nerves and heightened sensations. It had been a very long time since she’d felt the press of a muscular chest against hers, the warmth of strong arms surrounding her. In the instant that he’d hugged her, she’d smelled him, a distinctly woodsy male scent that was quite appealing. Too appealing.

She turned and went back into the ice cream parlor. She joined her cousin Alyssa behind the counter where she was making a fresh pot of coffee. Alyssa finished what she was doing then turned and embraced Savannah. “Is there any news?”

Savannah shook her head. “I spoke with Bree before coming here and there’s no change in Dad’s condition. Clay is trying to get Glen to let him into the house or at least see what the crime scene has gathered so far, but Glen is refusing.”

Alyssa sank down on a stool. “This is what I saw,” she said softly. “I knew something bad was coming…knew somebody was going to be hurt…but I couldn’t tell who…I couldn’t stop it.” Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Melinda, keep an eye on things, okay?” Savannah asked the young woman who worked for Alyssa. Savannah took Alyssa by the arm and pulled her through the doorway that led to Alyssa’s living quarters.

She closed the door behind them, shutting off the sounds from the ice cream parlor and led Alyssa to the cream-colored sofa where they sat side by side. She took Alyssa’s hands in hers and squeezed tightly.

“Alyssa, everyone in the family knows how your visions come to you. We all know that most of the time you can’t figure out exactly what they mean. Nobody blames you for not seeing this coming.”

“I know that, but it’s just so frustrating,” she replied. She pulled her hands from Savannah’s grasp and used one to push a strand of her long dark hair behind an ear. “Over the past two months, I’ve had a single, recurring vision, and it’s been different from any other one I’ve ever had.”

Although Savannah had heard this before, she sat patiently and listened, knowing Alyssa needed to talk about it. “What I’ve experienced over the past two months weren’t even real visions,” Alyssa continued, her eyes dark and worried. “There was never a picture…just a feeling of horrible doom, of enormous grief and emptiness. Is there any news on Aunt Rita?”

“None.”

Alyssa frowned. “I had a new vision this morning…about Aunt Rita.”

Savannah leaned toward her cousin, her heartbeat quickening with hope. Maybe Alyssa’s newest vision could provide a clue of some kind as to where Rita was…what had happened to her. “What? What did you see?”

Alyssa frowned, a delicate furrow appearing across her brow. “It won’t help,” she said as if reading Savannah’s thoughts. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me anyway,” Savannah replied.

“I saw Aunt Rita in bed. She was sleeping peacefully in her own bed, in her own room.” She sighed in frustration. “I told you it wouldn’t help.”

Savannah frowned thoughtfully. “Are you sure it was her own bed?”

“Positive. I saw her beneath the dark-blue floral bedspread that’s on their bed. I saw the Tiffany-style lamp they have on the nightstand. It was her room, Savannah. I told you it wouldn’t help. We both know Aunt Rita isn’t safe and sound and sleeping in her bed at home.”

Savannah reached for her cousin’s hand once again. From the time they had all been children together, the James siblings had known that their favorite cousin had mysterious visions. The visions were as much a part of Alyssa as her long, dark hair and gentle nature.

“But you’ll tell me if you have any more visions of her?” Savannah asked.

“Of course,” Alyssa replied.

“Even if they seem crazy or unimportant?”

Alyssa’s lips curved into a half smile. “Even then.”

“And if you think you see anything that might help find her, you have to promise me you’ll tell Chief Cleberg.”

The half smile fell into a frown. “Glen Cleberg is like nine-tenths of the people in this town. They all think I’m more than a little crazy.”

“I know the chief has given you a hard time before when you’ve tried to help, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll tell him if you see anything that might help us find Mom.”

“I promise,” she agreed. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help find her. She’s always been like a mother to me.” Tears once again sprang to Alyssa’s eyes, and she and Savannah hugged.

Alyssa’s mother had died when Alyssa was four, and it had been Rita who had stepped in to fill the empty space in the little girl’s life.

“Who is Riley Frazier?” Alyssa asked as Savannah stood.

“A man who had something horrible happen to his parents a couple of years ago. He was offering me his support.”

“Nice-looking man,” Alyssa said, also rising from the sofa.

Savannah shrugged. “I guess.” A vision of Riley streaked through her mind. “I’ve got to get going. I want to stop by the hospital on my way home.”

Alyssa walked with her to the door. “You doing okay?” she asked.

“I’m holding up,” Savannah replied.

Alyssa gazed at her with warm affection. “You were always the strong one, Savannah. I’ve always admired your incredible wealth of strength.”

Alyssa’s words replayed in her head thirty minutes later as she sat by her father’s hospital bed.

The sight of her father lying there, so pale, so lifeless had shocked her. Thomas James was a big man with an even bigger presence. Now, with his head wrapped in bandages and his mouth hanging slack, hooked up to a variety of monitors and machines and with deep, dark circles beneath his eyes, he looked frighteningly old and fragile.

Savannah took his hand in hers. Cold…his hand was so cold. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at him. “Daddy,” she said softly. Did he hear her? Could he hear her? “Daddy, you need to wake up.” She squeezed his hand. “We need you…I need you.”

It was all too much, she thought. Her mother missing, her father in a coma—it was all too much to survive. She released his hand and leaned back in her chair, utterly exhausted both physically and mentally.

Alyssa had been wrong. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t strong at all. She wasn’t strong enough to survive what had become of her life, nor was she strong enough to let go of the bridge support and join her Jimmy in the spirit world.

She felt as if she was caught in some horrible state of limbo, too cowardly to join her husband in death, but equally afraid to contemplate what lay ahead for herself and the people she loved.