Читать книгу Evidence of Murder - Jill Nelson Elizabeth - Страница 13

Sam studied the profile of the man behind the wheel of the pickup. Nice strong chin, a little on the square side, but not jutting, and definitely not weak. Just right. And his hand holding hers had been just right, too, wrapping her palm and fingers in a big grip, but not squeezing.

All well and good, but why was she alone in a pickup with a guy she’d just met? She’d wanted to escape the deluge of reporters as much as Ryan, but why did she feel perfectly at home sitting here? And safe? The police maintained he wasn’t a suspect in the murder case. However, those words hadn’t meant a lot to her inner security barometer. Less than an hour ago she’d believed him capable of breaking and entering. What had changed?

The dog. Despite his tough exterior, the man had a core of kindness. Even her moody cat knew it and trusted him. And Sam trusted animals. They had a sense about people that human beings often didn’t.

Ryan shot her a glance with his intense blue eyes, and the corners of his mouth tilted up.

What was the matter with her? She’d better quit staring, or the guy would get the wrong idea.

She looked out the window where the tree-lined bluffs of this picturesque area flashed past. Ryan’s place of business was roughly a half hour from her dry cleaners. Funny that they both lived where they worked and owned their own businesses. Did that mean they were the same sort of people?

Not really, because that was where the similarities ended. He lived in a secluded woodland area, she in a business district. His house traveled with him whenever he wanted to pick up and leave, while hers stayed planted where she intended to put down roots. No, when a person looked at it logically, they weren’t much alike at all. If they could get this awful investigation behind them, they would have no basis to develop an ongoing relationship. She’d just have to disappoint Jenna and Hallie in the matchmaking department. So why did that thought make her heart sink?

Shake it off, girl. Stick with the program. “Why do the police say you couldn’t have been the one who—er, you know? They generally look at family first. Excuse me for asking. My gut says you’re okay, but my head’s not quite there yet.”

Ryan let out a short laugh. “I’m familiar with that internal tug-of-war, and I don’t blame you for asking. They did suspect me at first. Who wouldn’t? But they ran into a brick wall when they considered timing and gunshot residue.”

“I don’t follow what you’re saying.”

“A stray pellet stopped the clock on the wall behind my dad’s desk, pinpointing when the shootings took place. When the crime scene techs tested me from top to bottom for gunshot residue, they didn’t find a speck. No way could I have taken a shower, changed clothes, dried my hair, and dispose of my tainted outfit between the time the murders were committed and the time the first squad car arrived on the scene. They were pretty much forced to acknowledge that my part in events was exactly as I said. That’s when they decided the whole thing was murder/suicide, and my dad was the bad guy.” He snorted.

“Precisely what whoever did it wanted people to believe.”

Ryan met her gaze, grim-faced, then turned his attention back to the road. “And I was no better than the cops in my thinking.”

“Why should you have been?”

“Because he was my dad, that’s why! A son should know better!”

Sam lifted her hands, palms out. “I get the point.”

His shoulders sagged. “Sorry. I’m still riled about all this.”

“I don’t blame you. When you and Hallie were talking, what were you about to say you gave the police?”

“The code for a storage unit. They said they’d check it out today. I rented a unit near the old neighborhood, and that’s where I stuck all the family stuff I didn’t get rid of after the funerals. I was pretty shook up and didn’t sort through anything after selling the house and the furniture. Just boxed it and stuffed it into a rental garage. I pay the rent bill every month, but to tell you the truth, I haven’t been back since.”

Sam frowned. “I can understand why you were in no shape to look at things at the time, but ten years is quite a while to leave your family memories locked away in a storeroom.”

His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “Not if you think your bid for independence as good as pulled the trigger.”

“Do I ever understand that ‘bid for independence’ thing! I’m still fighting for mine.”

“What do you mean? You own a business, and I don’t see you living with parents.”

“A month ago you would have seen exactly that.” Sam rolled her eyes. “And no business, either.”

“No kidding!”

She bobbed her head. “Not even a teensy exaggeration. After finishing high school half a year behind the rest of my class, it took me another six to finish college because I needed to work so much to help pay old medical bills. Happily, my job was in a dry cleaners, where I learned a trade hands-on. So when my maternal grandmother left her only granddaughter a sizable chunk in her will, I suddenly found myself free of financial obligation and able to pursue a career that combined my experience with my business degree.” Sam stretched out her legs in the roomy interior and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The only hitch was finding a dry-cleaning establishment to purchase that would get me out from under my family’s watchful eye and yet not be so far away that they would have instant heart failure when I told them I was moving.”

Ryan chuckled. “Where are you from?”

“Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Hallie’s from there, too, as well as another friend I’m close with, Jenna. She’s part owner and full-time chef at The Meridian.”

Ryan whistled under his breath. “I’ve heard that restaurant is the hottest taste sensation since buttered toast.”

Sam laughed. “I take it you haven’t paid a visit.”

He waved a hand over his polo shirt and jeans. “Suits and ties and power lunches were my dad’s thing, not mine.”

“Jenna’s restaurant welcomes tennis shoes seated next to designer leather loafers. We’ll have to go sometime.” Sam halted on an intake of breath. Did she just ask this guy out?

“Sounds great!”

By the size of Ryan’s smile, that’s exactly what she’d done, and there was no taking it back now. At least not totally. “You know, to apologize for accusing you of taking my cat. You did flowers—I guess I can do lunch.” She forced a big smile. Could he see her pulse racing? Well, he probably couldn’t miss the flush that heated her face.

“You know,” Ryan said, “Bastian likely just slipped out to explore the neighborhood. He seems to possess a normal case of curiosity, considering his species.”

“You’re probably right. If you can find him as easily today as you did the other night, I’ll owe you big-time.”

“Like dinner and a movie?”

Sam sank in the seat, face blazing. This guy was milking her mistake for all it was worth. Why? With all that was on his mind right now, romancing the woman who found those brutal photos couldn’t be high on his priority list.

“Did you call the police about the break-in?”

What did he say? She shook her head free of confusion fumes. “Oh, the break-in? No, I thought it was you.”

“So, it’s okay if I break into your place, but no one else?”

“Davidson, if you’re trying to push my buttons, you’re doing a stellar job. I’ll call the police right now.” She snatched her purse from the floor where she’d tossed it and yanked out her cell phone. She almost dropped it when she heard a shrill ring. But it wasn’t her tune. She looked over at Ryan.

He pulled a cell from a belt holder. “Davidson here.” Long pause. “What? How did anyone get there before you? The case hasn’t even broken on the news yet.” Another pause. “Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll be right there.”

Ryan snapped the phone shut and turned toward Sam, gaze bleak. “That was the police. They opened my storage unit, but someone beat them to it…years ago.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Someone made a stew of my family’s stuff, but it wasn’t a recent job. Everything’s covered with dust. They want me to get over there pronto and tell them if something’s missing. The trouble is I’m not sure if I’ll know. I was in such a fog when I put everything in storage.”

The rasp in his tone jerked a knot in Sam’s heartstrings. “If they need you now, let’s do it.”

“You’d go with me?” Furrows smoothed from Ryan’s brow, and his ice-blue gaze heated.

Sam’s heart-knot melted. “Well, I’m not too keen on being left on the side of the road. Besides, I can report my break-in to the authorities there.”

Ryan smiled. “Smart lady.”

Ryan stared at the carnage in the Gopher Storage garage. Boxes had been upended and the contents rooted through—loose papers tossed everywhere, his mom’s novels jumbled amidst his dad’s textbooks. Broken items were strewn across what little floor space remained among the crammed-in personal belongings. He spotted his mother’s favorite white blouse, torn and dusty and yellowed, tossed carelessly on top of a collection of his sister’s high school tennis trophies.

Memories sucked him under like quicksand.

He tore himself away and staggered the few feet to his pickup. Gripping the edge of the truck box, he hung his head, hauling in deep breaths. A warm hand fell on his shoulder. He glanced down into solemn green eyes.

“Give yourself a minute,” she murmured. “You’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled loud and long. “Seeing that stuff hit me hard.”

“Mr. Davidson,” a terse voice spoke from behind them, “did you notice anything missing?”

Ryan turned to face the officer who had introduced himself as Detective Connell. The lean man stood with a pen and small notebook in hand. Ryan shook his head. “Nothing obvious, but I’ll have to go through things in order to be able to give a better answer.”

“Fair enough.” The detective stuffed the pen and notebook in his suit jacket pocket. “Our guys will be through dusting for prints soon, and then we can turn you loose on the place.”

“Thanks.”

“Detective Connell,” Sam spoke up, “my business was broken into last night.”

The officer stiffened.

“I found evidence of the intrusion this morning,” Sam continued, “and my cat is gone. At first, I thought it was Ryan paying me a return visit, but he says not, and I believe him.”

Connell cocked a brow at Ryan. “Yes, I heard you were prowling the old neighborhood the other night.”

“I didn’t break into the dry cleaners.”

Seconds ticked past as their stares dueled. Ryan’s jaw clenched. What did the guy expect to see—a guilty sign flashing behind his eyeballs?

Abruptly, Connell shifted his attention to Sam. “We’ll look into this as soon as we’re done here.” He crossed the pavement toward the garage where a pair of technicians worked.

“Let’s get in the truck and turn on the AC while they finish,” Ryan said to Sam.

They climbed in, and Ryan started the vehicle. He ran his palms up and down the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the white police van that sat nose to nose with the Silverado. “It’ll be tough to go through that stuff, but it’s probably needed to be done for a long time.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded. Silence fell, not uncomfortable, just…heavy, as if patiently awaiting something significant.

Ryan cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that kept creeping up his windpipe. “The last time I spoke to any of my family wasn’t much fun.”

“Tell me.”

Ryan closed his eyes and tumbled back in time.

He whizzed up the Interstate, tunes from a mellow country radio station keeping him company. His cell phone rang, and he checked the caller ID then turned down the radio. “Hi, Dad.”

“Where are you?”

No “Are you all right, son? We’ve been worried.” Ryan squelched the sarcasm before it reached his lips. Michael T. Davidson didn’t have warm fuzzies in his vocabulary. Why should his offspring expect any? “I’m almost to St. Paul.”

“Good. You’ll be home in less than an hour. Your mom and sister have nose prints all over the front window.”

“Yeah, I got a late start. Loose ends to tie up.”

“I’m on the Internet right now studying the business offerings for junior year, and I’ve got a plan mapped out that will shoot you straight into Stanford for your postgraduate work.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut then popped them open. Dad’s voice droned on about “the plan” that would have Davidson and Son printed on the stationery of his investment firm. A sour taste settled on Ryan’s tongue.

“I’m not going to major in business. I’ve decided to take forestry.” Wow! Did that pop out of his mouth right here on the phone? Silence roared from the opposite end of the connection. “Sure, I get good grades in the number-cruncher classes,” Ryan continued, “but I’m bored stiff. I love the outdoors—working with nature. Remember those Boundary Waters canoe trips I went on with my youth group? And all those weekends on our Mississippi houseboat? When you let me tag along hunting with your business clients, you said I had a knack—”

“I’m not in the mood for this joke, young man.” Dad’s tone was a brick wall. “You know my position. Hunting and fishing are relaxing hobbies, but there’s no money in it. My son is not making a career out of such wasted effort.”

“Too late, Dad. Before I left school, I declared forestry my major.”

“Are you on drugs, nature boy?” The words sliced like razors.

“Huh?”

“We’re not about to toss away everything you’ve planned and worked for all these years on a whim.”

Heat seared Ryan’s veins. “Wrong! All the things you’ve planned for me and made me slave for all these years. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty—”

“You are a child, Ryan. An unstable little boy. I won’t have your mother and sister upset by your antics. Don’t you even mention—”

“Mom and Cassie won’t care what major I take, as long as I’m happy. You’re the one who goes ballistic if anyone tries to wiggle out from under your thumb.” Ryan winced. Had he just shouted at his father?

A foul word entered Ryan’s ear. He blinked. His controlled dad never cursed. But more followed—worse than dock lingo—mixed with orders about what an ungrateful son could do with his trees, and his wildlife, and his canoe and his pigeons. Pigeons?

His mom’s voice, high-pitched, entered the background. Dad’s thunder dialed up in volume, and Ryan pulled the phone away from his ear, words still pummeling him.

“Ryan?”

Mom. She must’ve snatched the phone.

“I’m here.” His words rasped through a tight throat.

“Come home, okay? Whatever’s going on, we’ll work it out.”

The noises faded and disappeared. Mom must have left Dad’s office.

“Cassie and I can’t wait to see you. This’ll be a great summer.” Her voice quavered, and she cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about your dad. He’s had a tough time at the office lately. We have to give him a little space to work it out.”

Good old Mom, the enabler. He’d learned that bit of shrink-speak in his general psychology elective. “See you soon. Tell Cass she’d better have her tennis game polished up, because I’m going to wipe the court with her.”

Mom let out a thin chuckle. “Sure, honey. Bye.”

Ryan opened his eyes, back in his pickup, staring at the police technicians’ van, his family dead and gone. “That was the last time I heard my parents’ voices, and I never got to speak a word to Cassie, not then, not ever again.”

A slender hand covered his, resting on the seat. “I’m honored you shared that with me. You’ve kept everything bottled up for too long. Talking it out is one of God’s ways of bringing healing.”

“God? If He exists, He’s the One who let all this happen.” Ryan pulled his hand away. “Mom trusted Him. Cass, too. And I did once upon a time in a fairy tale.”

Sam’s gaze darkened, but she met his glare strong and steady. “Happily ever after doesn’t come without trials in this world. But if I didn’t know it was there for us with a loving God, I would’ve given up and died years ago—mentally and emotionally for sure. Maybe it’s time for Ryan Davidson to join the living again, too.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well, you can keep your ‘loving God’ theory. And just where do you get off lecturing me about life, Ms. Sheltered Homebody?”

The color drained from Sam’s face at the same rate as the anger seeped from Ryan’s heart. Would it help if he bit his unruly tongue off? He had no right to expect another ounce of grace from her, any more than he expected any from the God who let his family die.