Читать книгу Flashback - Justine Davis - Страница 7

As usual when she needed to think, Alex retreated to Forsythe Farms and the back of a horse.

“I hear you’re writing a book.”

Alex blinked, startled. She reined her horse in as she stared at her grandfather. “Well, that didn’t take long,” she said.

“I have my sources,” he said blandly.

“Don’t I know it,” she said, remembering the times when he knew about her college escapades before she’d even returned to her dorm room. She’d always been aware he seemed to know things—even trivial information—before anyone else, but she hadn’t quite expected this to get to him this quickly.

“I assume that’s your cover, for those who don’t already know you’re with the FBI?”

She nodded and nudged Silk forward again. The cream-colored filly was aptly named; her gait was as smooth as her coat. As was her disposition. Even the fidgeting of the temperamental Twill, in an exceptionally feisty mood this evening and only grudgingly bending to her grandfather’s experienced hands, didn’t seem to phase her.

Her calm temperament was unusual for such a young horse, and Alex suspected they had a real treasure in the making. It was horses like this that made her sometimes wish she’d stayed in this world and pursued her riding career. But she knew she wouldn’t trade the challenges of her job for anything, and that moments like this she could steal would have to do for now.

“General Stanley guessed that that was what I was there for, and I sort of let him go on thinking it. It seemed like a decent cover. Although he did say to pass along his thanks to you, for always being there for the military when they need you.”

G.C. nodded. “What little I can do these days. But we’ll stick with the book story for now. I suppose being rather well-known here could make things difficult.”

“It’s a handicap and a benefit,” she said. “I get in to see higher-ups more easily, but those higher-ups know more about me than I’d like for this purpose. It affects what they’re willing to tell me. I think I may do better in Arizona, where I’m more anonymous.”

“You’ve called Allison?”

“Yes. I left a message since she was out. I didn’t say it was urgent, since we’re just starting, but I thought she should know.”

Twill snorted and danced as a dragonfly darted in front of them. With practiced ease G.C. brought him back in line. Silk shook her head when the insect came too close to her nose, but otherwise remained calm.

“Learn from your daughter,” G.C. told the big bay stallion in mock sternness.

It was a minor chastisement directed in jest to an animal, but Alex couldn’t help thinking how the words he’d said demonstrated one of the things she loved most about her grandfather. Despite his position and the importance others assigned him, he never thought he was too big or too important, never thought he knew too much to ever learn from anyone around him.

They finished their ride, untacked and groomed the horses under the hovering eye of head groom Jacob Garner. Garner, even after years of working for the Forsythes, had never quite gotten used to their penchant for taking care of their own horses. He’d even told her once that it was a topic of discussion among other grooms in the area, how unusual it was that the Forsythes insisted on doing such things themselves instead of just handing their horses off to staff as most others in their circle did.

It wasn’t until they were walking from the stable back to the house that G.C. returned to the subject of her investigation.

“Will you be talking to the police in Phoenix? Asking them to reopen the case?”

“Officially? I’m not sure yet. I’ll talk to Kayla, certainly, and maybe the detective assigned to the case if he’s still there.”

Her beloved Lacy, registered name Chantilly Lace, whinnied at her from the paddock where she was enjoying the spring day. She laughed, and changed direction.

“She’ll never forgive me if I don’t take her out soon.”

“Jacob says that tendon is healing nicely, so a little ramble shouldn’t be out of the question by next week.”

Alex nodded, glad the horse she’d grown up with since she was a child was doing better. She didn’t push her so hard anymore, now that she was in her twenties, but Forsythe horses were long-lived and spirited, so she expected to be out on the trails with Lacy again soon.

After the horse had been greeted and cooed over and seemed satisfied for the moment, they resumed their walk up to the house, and the conversation.

“I’d like to do as much as I can under the radar,” Alex said. “Less warning, and less time for the roaches to scurry into hiding.”

She was certain Kayla Ryan, her friend and fellow Cassandra, who was now a lieutenant of the Athens Police Department, would have some ideas on how to proceed. And knowing Kayla, she’d be off and running herself once she found out what Alex now knew from Marion’s letter.

Alex felt no hesitation about letting Kayla in on what they’d found out. Despite the rough patch their friendship had been through, she had never questioned Kayla’s loyalty to Athena. And she didn’t question it now, or that Kayla would be eager to start digging the moment she heard.

“And I suppose professional courtesy requires that I let the locals in Phoenix know that I’ll be poking around,” she went on, thinking aloud now. “I don’t want to use the book-writing cover story with them only to have them find out later I was scamming them. I might need their cooperation before this is over.”

“Spoken like a woman brought up around politics,” he told her.

“Yuck,” she said succinctly, making an exaggerated face of distaste as she knew G.C. expected. She won the grin she was after; her grandfather knew quite well her aversion for the world he held so much power in, despite the fact that he had never run for or held public office.

“That feeling you have is why Marion ran for office,” he said.

Alex shook her head. “I admire her for that. I think. My first thought about a filthy pond is how to clean it without going swimming in it.”

He looked at her with an amused expression. “And how would you do it?”

“Drain it?” she suggested. “Then shovel the dregs out into the compost pile and start all over with clean water.”

He chuckled. “You’d be amazed at how many people agree with exactly that idea. Too bad more of them aren’t in positions to do it. Yet.”

The rest of the evening, except for a brief phone call from her mother—brief because Alex escaped by saying she was busy preparing for the trip to Athena—passed in the pleasant manner that made her long for this place when she was gone. She was so relaxed and calm by the time her grandfather said good-night that she was startled when he added soberly, “Be careful, Alexandra.”

“Of course,” she responded automatically.

But as she lay awake that night, turning things over in her mind, she wondered what he thought might happen in Arizona, what had compelled him to issue that caution about a case that was a decade old.

It might be a decade old, a small voice in her head pointed out, but it was still murder.

And the murderer was still out there.

“I can’t believe Jazz is old enough to be at Athena,” Alex said.

Kayla Ryan laughed. “Neither can I.”

“She’s doing quite well already.”

Christine Evans, the only principal Athena had ever had, or had needed, spoke enthusiastically as she handed the two other women glasses of the lemonade she’d just fixed. They’d both chosen it rather than wine, knowing they’d be driving later tonight.

They’d wanted to meet here, not just because they loved Athena and came back often, but also to check on Christine, and make sure she was truly completely recovered from the gunshot wound she’d suffered during their unraveling of Rainy’s murder. It seemed that she had, and Alex knew that yet another Athena class would be whipped into shape by the indefatigable ex-army captain.

That class was here now and was the main reason Alex was staying in town instead of out here at the campus. With a new session of school in full swing, Alex hadn’t wanted to intrude on the rhythm, even if Christine had said she wouldn’t be at all in the way.

“Jazz has some awfully big footsteps to follow in,” Alex said, nodding at Kayla, whose honey complexion pinkened in what Alex guessed was pride more in her daughter than herself. But her brown eyes sparkled, much as Alex guessed her own blue ones did at the happiness of having her closest friend back in her life.

“A little mother-daughter competition won’t hurt her.”

“I’d argue that,” Alex said ruefully, “except you are thankfully nothing like my mother.”

“And Jazz can’t, and shouldn’t, be me.” Kayla grimaced slightly. “Hopefully she’s smarter than I was at her age. She’s her own person, and she’ll have to find her own path, her own talents.”

“And Athena’s the place to do it,” Alex said, shifting her gaze to Christine, “thanks to you.”

“My, you’re just full of praise tonight,” Christine teased.

“Maybe I’m just glad to be with people who love Athena as much as I do.”

“Uh-oh,” Kayla said instantly at the undertone Alex hadn’t meant to let show in her voice. “Problem?”

“No, not really. Not a current one, anyway. But I do have some news.”

She filled both women in on why she was there, and both were, as she’d expected, as eager as she to get to the truth about Marion Gracelyn’s murder. Christine spent quite a bit of time walking Alex through every bit she could remember about that day.

“Did Marion ever tell you anything about those three incidents that happened before she was killed?” she asked Christine.

Christine frowned. “I knew she had that fire at her home here in Phoenix, the one that they thought was arson, and then, of course, that awful crash with that plane that ran off the runway when taking off.”

“And a week before that, the steering on her car went out,” Alex said. “Her mechanic said the fluid was contaminated. Something that gummed up the works. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Highly unusual but not unheard of.”

“Well, yes,” Christine said. “I heard about that, but…you’re saying they’re all connected?”

“Marion thought so.”

“The fire was arson,” Kayla put in. “I remember looking up the report shortly after I started at the PD, when I had access to old reports.”

Christine looked thoughtful. “It does seem a bit much to have three ‘accidents’ of that severity in such a short time span. I should have…I just never put them all together that way.”

“You were in shock,” Alex said. “Everybody who knew and loved her was in shock, not thinking clearly.”

“So you think those accidents were failed attempts on her life?”

“I pulled the NTSB report on the plane accident. The official verdict was accidental debris on the runway, but there were two dissenting investigators who thought it might have been intentional damage done to the plane’s tires.”

Kayla drew in an audible breath. “So if we accept that these were all caused incidents, we’re down to who caused them.”

“And if we can figure out who caused them, it should lead us to who killed her,” Alex said. Then she looked at Christine. “Did you have any suspicions, at the time it happened?”

“I never thought it was someone who’d been against Athena,” Christine answered. “Not that there weren’t plenty of them. But Athena already existed, and was successful, by the time Marion was killed. Why would anyone wait that long?”

“I tend to agree,” Alex said. She knew that Christine had excellent instincts about people, and a great deal of common sense.

“Judging from what I’ve heard around town over the years,” Kayla offered, “it could just as easily have been some conspiracy freak, with a crazy idea about what Athena is. People still have some out-there theories.”

“I guess I hadn’t realized,” Alex said, “that so many people had such wild ideas about us.”

Christine chuckled. “It’s the price we pay for the low profile. When people don’t know exactly who or what you are, they either don’t care or tend to make it up for themselves. And most people who make it up have outrageously over-the-top imaginations.”

“Tell me about it.” Kayla’s tone was wry. “When I applied at the PD, and they found out I went here, the first thing one of the old farts on my oral board asked was if that was the school that taught women to take over the world and drive men out.”

“Good grief,” Alex said. “What did you answer?”

“I said no, but that it did teach us to recognize men whose masculinity was so fragile they were afraid of strong women, and how to treat them gently.”

As Christine laughed, Alex hooted aloud; she’d never heard that story from Kayla before. “And yet you still got the job?”

Kayla grinned. “Turned out they dragged out the old dinosaur for every female’s entrance exam. Figured if she could deal with him without getting rattled or angry, she had a chance of making it.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Alex said.

“It is,” Kayla agreed. “And come to think of it, the idea came from Eric Hunt. The detective who handled the investigation, although he was still the dinosaur’s partner when I came on. He was Phoenix PD then, but he’s ours now.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s a cop,” Kayla said, as if that said it all. As perhaps it did, Alex thought. But then Kayla added, “A good one.”

Alex waited, sensing there was more but not wanting to push. At last, with a sigh, Kayla went on.

“He’s just in a rough place right now. Tired. A string of tough cases and long hours. He’s liable to be a little touchy at first, that’s all.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll be gentle.”

Kayla laughed. “Don’t be. Eric doesn’t need it. As long as he knows you’re not there to make cops look bad, he’ll help you.”

“You know that’s not why I’m doing this, right?” Alex asked. It was an aspect that hadn’t occurred to her before Kayla had mentioned it.

“Of course I know,” Kayla said. “But it’s him you have to convince.”

“I’ll manage.”

“You always do,” Christine put in. Then, settling back in her chair, she eyed Alex with interest. “So…tell me about you and the Dark Angel.”

Alex nearly groaned. “Can’t we stick to something easy, like ten-year-old murders?”

It was Kayla’s turn to laugh. Alex quickly turned on her friend; anything was fair game now. “Why don’t we talk about you and Peter instead?” she said, referring to the detective Kayla had gotten involved with during Rainy’s murder case.

“Because he’s not an Athena legend,” Kayla said with exaggerated blitheness.

“Fine,” Alex said, defeated. “He’s fine. I’m fine. We’re still testing the waters, trying to make the long-distance thing work.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be in D.C. about now?”

“Yes.” She tried to leave it at that, but Kayla and Christine were both watching her too intently. “He is in a D.C. Training seminar. We’ll be getting together when he gets back here.”

And if I weren’t the biggest coward on the planet, I’d probably be staying at his place, like he’d offered, instead of a hotel.

Later, she tried not to fixate on the thought as she headed back to her nice but impersonal room at that hotel. Justin had been great about not pushing for more than she was ready to give, while at the same time making it clear that he wanted more. Much more.

Not that she didn’t want it, too. She was just…what? Cautious? Careful? Wary?

Afraid?

She didn’t like the idea, but she couldn’t definitively say it wasn’t true. She was honest enough with herself to admit it, even to figure out why. It annoyed her that she was letting her mother influence her, but it was an example she’d had all her life.

But she knew she couldn’t drag it out forever. Either they were in a relationship that would by definition have to progress, or they weren’t. Justin was tacitly giving that decision to her, telling her that his was already made.

He’d also understood her need to dive into this investigation, and accepted easily her leaving for Arizona so soon after he’d left it for D.C. He was going to be busy most of the rest of the week, anyway. He’d simply changed his schedule to come back when he was done, instead of hanging around there an extra few days to spend them with her.

She wished she wasn’t so confused about her feelings. There was more to it than the fact that she’d barely escaped what she was sure would have been a disaster with her former fiancé, Emerson. She just wasn’t sure what it was. While her maternal grandparents and her parents had had a rocky relationship, G.C.’s had been solid and happy until her grandmother’s death, and that was what she thought of when she thought of such things.

And while she’d been relieved to end her engagement to Emerson, she hadn’t been wary of marriage itself. Not that she was sure that was what Justin had in mind, of course. Nor was she sure how it would work out if it was. Not with careers that had them currently living with most of the country between them. Twenty-three hundred plus miles was at the upper end of geographically undesirable.

The only thing she really was sure of was that Justin wouldn’t wait forever.

Alex shivered.

She had to be having a flashback to the last time she’d been here, when they’d been trying so desperately to disprove the assumption that Rainy, their beloved Rainy, had fallen asleep at the wheel and died in the ensuing accident. Why else would she feel a sudden chill, despite the fact that the temperature was a balmy, Phoenix-in-spring seventy-two?

She pulled the rental car into the left lane to pass a slow-moving gardening truck. Someone behind her had the same thought and also pulled to the left. She glanced at the truck as she passed, noting the lawnmowers in the back, and wondering about the people who insisted on having a lawn in this climate.

She smiled at the driver as she passed, silently congratulating him for managing to make a living at being an anachronism.

She eased back into the right lane so she could make the turn up ahead that would take her to the Athens Police Department. As she went, she resumed mentally running through the contents of Marion’s letter. She had it virtually memorized by now, both intentionally and from repeated readings, including last night at the hotel.

She’d left the original with her grandfather, who was going to keep it safe just in case. She’d thought it wise not to carry a copy of the letter around with her, so she’d made a list of the high points in an encrypted file on her PDA.

She slowed her speed after she completed the right turn. Building was going on here at a mad pace, as it seemed it was everywhere in the greater Phoenix area, and she wasn’t sure she’d spot the driveway she needed in time to make the turn.

Sure enough, the vacant lot next to the police station, that area of scrub and mesquite that had always been her landmark, was no longer empty. The big marquee for the new convenience store nearly obscured the small sign for the department, and she almost missed it.

A quick glance in the mirror told her she had enough room between her car and the blue sedan behind her to make the quick turn. She heard some hard braking farther behind her, and silently apologized to the driver of the gardening truck, who was now pulling over to the curb, probably to resecure something that had come loose because of her quick move.

She found a parking spot in front and was quickly out and heading for the front steps when she remembered she’d left her PDA in the car. Since it had all her notes in it, including those on Marion’s letter, she turned to go back for it.

And stopped dead, staring.

She blinked, but she knew she wasn’t mistaken. The blue car that had been behind her was stopped in the convenience-store parking lot. The vehicle was still running, dark-tinted windows closed. Angled so the driver could see the police department building, and the spot in which she’d parked her rental.

She recognized it now as the car that had pulled out from behind the gardening truck at the same time she had. As if the driver had seen her spot him, the car suddenly reversed out of the drive, tires squealing. The car rocked as the driver hit the brakes. She heard the bark of tires biting as the car accelerated hard and fast, cutting back into the traffic lane, nearly clipping an SUV that was driving decorously along in the slow lane.

In moments the blue car was out of sight.

Coincidence?

She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think so.

What she did think was that she had the answer to that chill she’d felt before. On some level she’d been aware of the car’s presence.

On some level she’d known she was being followed.