Читать книгу What Sarah Saw - Margaret Daley - Страница 12

Shocked for a second from the abrupt change in Sarah, Jocelyn froze, then suddenly scooped the little girl into her arms. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Instead of replying, Sarah just shook her head and cried, most unusual for a child who usually talked nonstop. The three-year-old had her face against Jocelyn’s neck and clenched her tightly. Sarah’s sobs continued, the sound muffled against Jocelyn’s shoulder.

“Sarah, it’s okay. You’re safe,” she said in a calm, soothing voice while she stroked the child’s back.

The door pushed open as Sarah wailed, “Don’t like. Don’t like.”

Clint started across the bedroom. Jocelyn stopped him with a raised hand and a small shake of her head. Sam stayed by the entrance, his expression stoic. That was the man she’d gotten to know in New Orleans and had finally come to the conclusion she couldn’t break through his barriers.

“Honey, what don’t you like?” The soft touch of Jocelyn’s hand and her steady tone helped Sarah begin to calm down.

The young girl lifted her head and through blurry eyes stared at Jocelyn. Her breath wavered as she drew in air, and she sniffled.

Jocelyn waited, aware of Clint hovering close, concern puckering his brow.

“Don’t like Ashley now.” Sarah raised a trembling hand and pointed at the doll lying on the top.

“Why don’t you like Ashley?”

Sniveling, the child popped her thumb into her mouth and lowered her head.

“Sarah?”

“Just don’t,” the little girl mumbled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That’s okay. I can put Ashley away, and you won’t have to see her.” Jocelyn reached around Sarah for the doll, but her uncle picked it up first and stuffed it under the other toys in the box, then hefted the container.

“Princess, I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to see Ashley anymore.”

The child watched her uncle take his load out into the hallway. He returned a few seconds later, his arms empty. Sarah leaped to her feet and raced across the room, propelling herself at him.

Clint swept the three-year-old into his embrace. “Why don’t I read you a story?”

“I want Mommy. Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s gone away on business, but she wanted me to take care of you until she came home.” Smoothing the child’s blond hair from her face, Clint moved toward the bed and placed his niece on the rose-colored coverlet.

As he twisted around, Jocelyn stepped closer and murmured, “If you need me, call anytime, day or night. I’ll come right over. I’ll talk to you later.”

He nodded once, then picked up Winnie-the-Pooh on the nightstand and sat beside his niece.

Jocelyn backed up toward the entrance, hesitating at the door. She didn’t want to leave, but Clint needed time with Sarah. She’d phone in a while and try to persuade him to let her see the little girl again. Everything wasn’t fine with Sarah. Supposedly she’d been in her room sleeping when Earl killed himself downstairs. But what if she hadn’t? What could she have seen? And why, all of sudden, didn’t she like her favorite doll?

Outside on the porch Sam grasped Jocelyn’s arm, stopping her procession to the sidewalk. She stiffened at the touch, so familiar to her at one time.

He immediately dropped his hand. “What do you make of that scene with Sarah? Why did the doll frighten her so much? Do you think she knows something?”

“Whoa.” She descended to the sidewalk, wanting to get away from the house. “I intend to talk with Clint about Sarah seeing me tomorrow. I think something has spooked her. The last time I talked with Leah she said Sarah had been asleep in her bedroom when Earl killed himself. Sarah seemed unaffected by his death. Leah didn’t think she really understood that her daddy was gone.” She glanced at the front door. “But now, I think there’s more going on. I think what Leah told Clint is true. Something’s definitely not right here. That was one of her favorite dolls. She loved playing with it.”

“You need to find out. A woman has disappeared and may be in trouble.”

The urgency in his voice heightened her own. “I’ll do my best, but Sam, I’ll do it my way. Sometimes there’s nothing I can do to speed the process, especially when a child’s involved.”

“I know.” He clenched his jaw, a faraway look entering his eyes.

“I tried my best with that last case in New Orleans. The two friends who witnessed the abduction were suppressing their memories.” If she said it enough, maybe she would believe it. She should have been able to do something to help the kidnapped child.

She pivoted to escape, a flood of emotions washing over her. Guilt that she couldn’t get the description of the man in time to help the FBI stop him. Anger that Sam had backed so far away from her right after the boy’s body was found. And still, after all the cases she’d helped with, horror that someone could do that to a child.

“Jocelyn, I’m sorry.” Sam caught up with her at her car. “That kidnapping isn’t something I want us to rehash.”

“You’re right, because I won’t let you make me feel any worse than I already do.” She swung around to open her car door, tears blurring her vision. She fumbled with the handle, wishing that time would remove the guilt, that she hadn’t become so emotionally involved in the case.

Sam captured her hand and turned her around toward him. “It wasn’t your fault. I never felt that way.” He searched her face. “Did you think that I did?”

“What else was I to think when you wouldn’t return my calls? I didn’t hear from you for weeks.” Then when she finally did, he wasn’t the same man.

He peered away. “I was having a hard time coping with the case and its final—result.”

And you thought I wasn’t?

“We can’t change the past. We need to focus on what happened to Leah.”

Although his words were formal, distancing, there was nothing like that in his expression, full of a vulnerability she’d never seen. Regret, mixed with the need to protect herself, tightened her throat. Suddenly, Sam looked directly at her, his eyes softening.

“Come to dinner with me. I know it’s a little early, but I don’t want to eat alone. Besides, we were always good together at bouncing ideas around on a case.”

Yes, the case. If she could help him solve Leah’s disappearance, Sam would leave. She wanted her friend Leah back and Sam gone from her life. Maybe dinner would hasten that process. “Fine.”

“I saw a restaurant not far from the pawnshop. I know how much you like Italian. Let’s go there.”

“It’s our best restaurant and pretty pricey.”

He smiled, more relaxed now. “Only the best for you.”

She actually blushed, the heat scoring her cheeks. Only Sam could do that to her. He still had power over her, and that scared her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Do we need reservations?”

“It’s five. I don’t think there’ll be a huge crowd at this time.”

“You never know. People could come from New Orleans. We’re not that far away,” he said with a chuckle.

Jocelyn opened her car door, gripping the top of it. “It depends on how fast you drive. Some can make it in forty-five minutes. Others at least an hour.”

“And which one are you?” A gleam danced in his eyes.

She slid into the driver’s seat, giving him a saucy grin, although somewhat forced because his look made her legs go weak. “I’m not telling. You’re part of law enforcement, and I don’t want a ticket. But let’s just say I don’t have a fast car for nothing.”

“I won’t tell.” His laughter spiced the air as he made his way to his sedan.

Jocelyn glanced at his retreating back, remembering the two of them together in the French Quarter, holding hands, then strolling on the Riverwalk that ran along the Mississippi River. She’d just started dating Sam, and their relationship was slowly moving from a business to a personal one. She wanted to know everything about him, but now looking back, she was the only one who talked about anything of substance. He was great at pulling information from her, but he never revealed much about his life before the FBI. She trusted him with her dreams and goals, and he betrayed it after that last case.

She started her car and took the lead back to Main Street, finding a parking space near the entrance. This dinner would be just a dinner. It was a means to an end, nothing more than a way to help Sam solve the case so he could leave.

Her resolve fortified, Jocelyn hurried toward the front where Sam waited for her. He opened the door and allowed her to go first into the restaurant. Scanning the dimly lit, intimate surroundings before her, she slowed her pace.

What would he say if I turned around and left? Why didn’t I realize this place wouldn’t be appropriate for a strictly professional relationship? Because I wasn’t thinking, that’s why. Sam does that to me.

Reluctantly, she continued to follow the maître d’ to a table set with a snow-white linen cloth, crystal stemware, gold flatware and fine china with a beige-and-ivory pattern. A glittering gold candle on a glass pedestal sat in the center, sending off alarm bells and a flurry of memories of past dinners in quaint, out-of-the-way restaurants in New Orleans.

“I can’t stay long. I need to call Clint,” she said as she took the ivory-padded chair the maître d’ pulled out.

Sam didn’t reply until after the waiter in a black tuxedo recited the specials and wrote down their order. “I want you to work with Sarah to find out if she witnessed anything. Something doesn’t feel right here. I had Evelyn Nelson, one of the agents I brought with me, look over the report on Earl’s death. She called me on the way here.”

“Did he commit suicide?”

“Forensics suggest it’s not likely from the angle of the shot, but possible. The sheriff is content to let it stand as a suicide. It was Earl’s gun, and his fingerprints were the only ones on it. Personally I don’t think the man wants to deal with something messy like a murder.”

“Sheriff Reed is a good old boy, nearing retirement and ready to spend his days fishing and collecting his pension.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling.”

Sam’s smile melted some of her apprehension. “Did y’all find anything out of place in the apartment or pawnshop?”

“No, everything was neat and tidy. Nothing looked gone. No clothes were missing that we can tell.”

“Just as I said. Leah was expecting to come back home. She didn’t flee.” Her stomach muscles clenched. Her hand holding the water goblet trembled as she lifted it toward her mouth. Leah could be lying dead or hurt somewhere. “It would be easy to get rid of a body in the swampland around Loomis.”

“So you don’t think this is a kidnapping?”

“No. Why would someone kidnap her? The Farleys didn’t have much money. What could someone have against Leah or Earl that would be worth harming them?”

“That’s a good question. One of the things that’s bothered me about this whole affair is the whereabouts of Leah’s car. That points to her leaving, since it hasn’t been found.”

“What if someone either killed or kidnapped her and didn’t want the car to be found?” Jocelyn hated thinking Leah was kidnapped or dead, but the alternative wasn’t great, either. Leah wouldn’t have abandoned her daughter.

“True.” He shook his napkin out and laid it in his lap. “We’ll stay around a few days and see what we can come up with. If nothing materializes, we’ll call this a local issue and turn it back over to the sheriff.”

She forced a shaky laugh from her lips. “He’s not equipped to handle something like this. That’s probably why the mayor called y’all.”

“Then the state can take over.”

Jocelyn leaned toward Sam. “Then Leah may never be found. If she’s dead, the family needs to know that, and if by some chance someone has kidnapped her for some unknown reason, then you’re the one to find her.” Part of her wanted to snatch back her words, but the other part knew Sam and his team were the best prospect of bringing Leah home—dead or alive.

“Let me see what I can come up with,” he said in a low voice as the space between them shrunk even more.

When Jocelyn caught a whiff of his lime-scented aftershave, she quickly sat back. “Have you told the sheriff that Earl was probably murdered?”

“He knows I have my doubts about it being a suicide. When we finish, I’m going to the station to review Evelyn’s notes and the photos of the scene. If it’s murder, that changes things. It raises the questions of who killed Earl and why. The prime suspect will be Leah, and with her disappearance, people will say that she ran away to avoid capture.”

“Then they don’t know her very well. That isn’t Leah. She’ll do anything for her daughter.”

“Even kill?”

“As I told you earlier, she didn’t kill Earl. My friend hasn’t changed over the years I was gone. Granted I’ve only been back nine months, but I’ve learned to read people pretty accurately. I have to in my profession.” Then why did I let myself get hurt by Sam? Maybe reading others accurately is only possible when my heart isn’t involved.

The waiter set their salads before them. “Do you need anything else?”

While she shook her head, Sam said, “No.” The second the man left, he continued. “What do you think about Sarah being so upset by her doll? Could there be a connection with all that’s happened?”

“That’s definitely a possibility. I’ve seen Sarah play with that doll a lot, and she’s never done anything like that before. In fact, once she told me it was her favorite. It’s almost exactly like the other one she was playing with except it has red hair. The other is blond.”

“So the red hair scared her?”

“Maybe. It could be a lot of things.”

“The only thing different I saw is the color of the doll’s hair. That’s got to be something. We don’t have much else to go on with Leah’s disappearance.”

She sighed. “I guess it could be something. Her reaction was more than just deciding suddenly she didn’t like the doll. She went pale, and it dropped from her hand.” Averting her gaze, Jocelyn stared at the front of the restaurant and noticed how dark it had become outside. “But it might not have anything to do with what’s going on. Maybe it’s suddenly hitting Sarah what happened to her father. With her mother gone now, too, she’s got to be confused. They were so close.”

“I need to start somewhere, so will you try and work with Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll review Earl’s case tonight. I’ll check the physical evidence and see what was collected.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Humor me for the time being. You don’t think Leah could have killed her husband—or run away. So who’s got red hair that’s connected with Leah and Earl? I’ll start with them before looking at others in this town.”

“Well, there’s Shelby Mason, Leah’s best friend. She and Sarah are close, though. Then there’s Vera Peel. She owns the boardinghouse. I’ve often seen her go into the pawnshop, especially over the past month.” Jocelyn picked up her salad fork and speared a few dark greens.

“Anyone else?” After withdrawing his pad from his inside coat pocket, Sam wrote down the two names.

She tried to picture the people who might have something to do with either Leah or Earl. “Angelina Loring is another one. I remember she and Leah were arguing the day before Earl’s death.”

“About what?”

“Leah wouldn’t say, and I couldn’t hear the words. I saw them as I came back from lunch. Neither one was happy with the other.”

“Interesting. I’ll have to pay a visit to Angelina Loring and discover what happened.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Leah was using Georgia Duffy as a real estate agent. She was showing Leah houses. Leah didn’t want Sarah to grow up in an apartment above a pawnshop. Leah wanted a yard for her to play in and so they could have a dog. Sarah has been wanting a puppy for a year. Her friend has one.” Jocelyn paused a moment, thinking back to a conversation with Leah. “Honestly I wouldn’t have thought about Georgia, except that Leah told me last week she wasn’t happy with the woman.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“Not exactly, but when I came into the shop a couple of weeks ago, Leah and Earl had been fighting about Georgia. She wanted to get another real estate agent while he didn’t. He looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. Earl is a big flirt and Georgia is, too.”

“Okay, you’ve given me four names so far. If you think of anyone else, let me know. I’ll have one of my team check these people out.”

“Sam, the red hair might not have anything to do with Earl’s death. Wait until I have a chance to talk with Sarah again. I might find out more.”

“We don’t have time to wait. Leah’s life could be in the balance, and I don’t have much to go on right now.”

“Getting information from a child, especially one so young, doesn’t occur on a schedule. In fact, it may never happen.”

“Don’t you think I know that better than most?” A closed expression descended over his features.

This was the Sam who had intrigued her so much last year. He was good at shutting his emotions off from others, but she’d thought she could get through his defenses; she had with many reluctant clients. Maybe she should become more like him. Then she might not have so many problems. She wanted to help children, yet dealing with them, especially as victims of crime, was taking its toll on her. She didn’t know how much longer she would last even in a small town like Loomis if she couldn’t grow a thicker skin.

The waiter approached and set their dinners before them. Thankful for the reprieve, Jocelyn drew in a deep breath of the garlic-and-basil-laced air. Her grilled shrimp Caprese over angel-hair pasta and asparagus parmesan made her mouth water. She hadn’t eaten lunch but until this moment hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

After the server left, Sam bowed his head for a moment, then picked up his fork and knife to cut into his tagliata di manzo con rucola.

“Do you still go to that little church near your apartment?” Jocelyn said as he began eating.

“Yes, when I’m in New Orleans.” Sam sliced off a piece of his peppered steak. “I know you used to live here for a while. Tell me about Loomis. Help me understand the place.”

“Let’s just say it isn’t your typical warm, friendly Southern town, at least now. The town’s division is more pronounced than when I lived here before. Thankfully Leah and Shelby greeted me the first week I moved back here and went out of their way to include me among their friends. Otherwise this would have been a lonely nine months.”

“So I shouldn’t expect smiles and waves when I walk down Main Street?”

“There are a few friendly people, but many try to emulate the matriarchs of our two prominent families, the Renaults and Pershings. Charla Renault and Lenore Pershing hate each other, hence the town’s division. They put the Hatfields and McCoy feud to shame.”

“Could Leah and Earl have gotten caught up in this feud somehow?”

“I don’t think so. They move in different circles.”

“Has it been hard establishing a new practice?” Sam asked, then sipped his ice water with a lemon slice.

“I became reacquainted with Charla’s daughter, Ava Renault. Being her friend has helped me build a practice fast. There are plenty of people in this town who need help.”

“So it may be difficult to get much out of some of them?”

“Not for you. I’ve seen you at work. You’re very good at interviewing reluctant witnesses.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you. I’ve seen you, and you aren’t too bad yourself.”

“What’s your first impression of Loomis?”

He angled toward her. “You want to know the truth?”

“Always.”

“Creepy.” He suddenly pulled back as though he realized he was too close. “But I’ll deny it if you tell because I won’t get a thing out of anyone if they know I feel that way.”

She reflected back to that day she’d arrived in Loomis and had almost left immediately. It had changed in the twelve years since she’d been gone. Or maybe what had changed was her perception, since she was an adult now and viewed things differently. “You just have to look beyond the glares and frowns,” she said with a little chuckle. “But if you meet Charla Renault or Lenore Pershing, you’ll see why there’s a certain tension in the air when you hit the outskirts of the town.”

“So they take the feud between their families seriously?”

“Most definitely, although Charla has been at a disadvantage since the car accident. She is confined to a wheelchair. I’m not sure—” laughter drifted to her, and she peered over her shoulder at the couple entering the restaurant “—that’s stopped her much.”

“Even though you don’t think Earl or Leah were caught up somehow in the feud or socially involved with the Renaults or Pershings, did they have anything to do with either family in some other way?”

“Leah used to work for Charla’s son, Dylan, four years ago before she became a secretary for the mayor. I imagine that’s why the mayor was the one who called you. Leah was—is invaluable to him.” She made a small gesture to indicate the couple weaving their way through the maze of tables to a private corner, off to the side of the rest of the customers. “That’s Dylan with Angelina Loring.”

Impeccably dressed in a charcoal silk suit with a black tie, Dylan waved the waiter away and sat without helping Angelina into her chair. He immediately flipped his menu open, burying his head behind it. His date pouted, glaring at him.

“Ah, one of the redheads I need to interview.”

“She’s a beauty queen and doesn’t let anyone forget that she was Miss Magnolia several years ago. She has her sights on becoming Dylan’s wife, but she has her work cut out for her. I don’t see that man settling down anytime soon.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re a fountain of information, and you’ve only been back nine months.”

“The good people of Loomis love to gossip, and if giving you a sense of the town helps Leah in any way, then I’ll gladly impart what I know.”

Sam peered at the man and woman a few tables over. “Are there any other ties between Earl and Leah and the two prominent families?”

“Other than the fact that Earl paid rent to the Pershings for the building his pawnshop is in, no. They own most of the property along Main Street so being Earl’s landlord isn’t that unusual.”

“There’s not any real connection then?”

“No. They did all go to Loomis High School. I knew many back then. There was definitely—”

Raised voices intruded. Jocelyn glanced toward Dylan and Angelina. The beauty queen shot to her feet, tossing her napkin onto her plate. Tears sprang into her eyes. She said something to Dylan in a fierce whisper that wiped the smug expression from his face. Grabbing her black clutch, she started for the door. Dylan grasped her arm, stilling her exit and drawing her close to him. His words were lost but not the steely look in his eyes. Angelina wrenched her arm from his clasp and stalked toward the front door with her head held as high as if she were walking down a runway.

Jocelyn shivered as Dylan’s hard gaze swept across the other diners, as though daring them to say anything.

Dylan Renault was not a man to cross.