Читать книгу Don't Look Back - Margaret Daley - Страница 10

Friday night Jameson tossed his duffel bag onto his bed and glanced at his answering machine. Three messages. Sinking down onto the covers, he pushed the button to listen to the recording.

“This is Scott. I was checking to see if you were home since you weren’t at the college. I want to come by to talk to you.” The time of that call was noon.

Jameson pressed the next message left three hours ago.

“I’m on to something big. I need your advice. I may be too close to this. Call as soon as you can. I have to talk to you. If I’m not here, my calls are being forwarded to my cell so I’ll be available.”

Jameson lifted his receiver and punched in Cassie’s brother’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Jameson told him to call as soon as he could, that he would be at home. Then realizing he had another message, Jameson listened to the last one, left only a half an hour before.

“Jameson! Where are you?” Jameson heard a sound in the background, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Call! I need to talk—” The line went dead.

Had someone interrupted Scott? The message ended so abruptly.

Concern seeped into Jameson. He replayed the message, but still couldn’t figure out what the noise was. He tried both Scott’s cell and his apartment, but again no answer. Why didn’t Scott pick up on his cell if he was waiting for him to call? Maybe Scott hung up earlier because he was angry that he wasn’t home. That could explain the sudden end to the message.

But what was that noise? Maybe Scott was pacing and knocked into something.

Unease nagged Jameson as he trudged toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He needed to grade those papers. He would do that while he waited for Scott to return his call. Maybe he was busy and couldn’t answer. Scott was a reporter and a grown man. He could certainly take care of himself, but there was something in his voice that…

He shook off his worry, remembering when he’d been a reporter and working a case. Sometimes he would lose track of time and become so focused on the story that nothing else mattered, not even eating.

After fixing a mug, Jameson took it into his office and settled down to work. But as he stared at the stack of essays, his mind was filled with his unsuccessful trip up the coast. Cassie’s smile still dominated his thoughts. She was a breath of fresh air in his stale life. For the past twelve years he had been going through the motions of living, but how could he have gone on with his life when Liz was in a coma because of him?

The phone blared, jerking Jameson out of his reverie. He grabbed it on the second ring, expecting it to be Scott. So when he heard Cassie, surprise—and something he didn’t want to acknowledge—flowed through him.

“Jameson, I’m sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Scott called over three hours ago and said he was coming to Magnolia Falls. He said he needed to talk to us and then see you. We haven’t seen him. Is he there?”

“No, I haven’t talked to him, but he did leave me several messages.”

“I know I shouldn’t be worried, but…” There was a long pause, then in a low voice Cassie said, “Scott didn’t sound right. Something’s wrong.”

He didn’t want to mention it, but he had to. “Have you checked with the highway patrol?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll call them,” she whispered, her distress conveyed in her hushed tone.

Remembering the urgency in Scott’s voice in the last message prompted Jameson to say, “I’ll come over. That way if he shows up I’ll be there, and we can talk then.”

“Thanks.”

Her gratefulness pushed to the background all his doubts about the wisdom of seeing her again. In his gut he knew something was wrong. He’d gotten this feeling several times when he had been a reporter and each time it had been dead-on. The last message from Scott had sounded almost frantic—not like the young man he knew. What kind of story was he working on? Why did Scott need to talk to him?

Cassie looked toward her mother sitting at the kitchen table, worry lining her face. “Jameson is coming over.” She picked up the phone again and called the highway patrol. As she asked if there were any accidents on the road between Savannah and Magnolia Falls, her mother’s expression darkened.

“Were there any?” Victoria Winters asked when Cassie replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“No.”

“Try Scott again.”

“I’ve already called and left four messages.”

Her mother rose and leaned into the table with her fists on its wooden top. “Try.”

Cassie called but didn’t bother to leave another message. Something was wrong. They both knew it but neither wanted to say it out loud. Not showing up when he’d said he would was something he had done back when he had been drinking heavily.

She could remember one time in particular a couple of years ago when her mother had insisted she go over to Scott’s apartment after he hadn’t shown up for a job interview with a friend of the family. She had found him passed out on the floor, completely unresponsive. The doctor had later said that if she hadn’t gotten him medical help when she had, he would have died.

“Something else probably came up. The life of a reporter can be unpredictable,” Cassie offered.

Her mom shook her head. “No. No, that isn’t it. He made it a point to make sure we would be here so he could talk to us. Something else has happened, Cassie. I know it in here.” She tapped her chest over her heart. “I don’t get this feeling often, but when I do, there is always something wrong.”

Cassie wanted to argue the point with her but couldn’t find the words. Her mother was right. The few times she had insisted something was wrong, it had been. “What do you want to do? Call the police?”

Her mother’s eyes grew round, and she sank down onto the chair. “The police? If for some reason Scott has started drinking again, he would be so upset that we—”

The doorbell chimed. “That’s probably Jameson. I’ll be right back.”

On her way out of the kitchen she heard her mother mutter, “He’s such a nice young man. Maybe he can help us find Scott.”

Cassie opened the front door and found Jameson King filling her entrance with his large presence. Relief flooded her as she stared into his blue eyes. “Come in. Scott still hasn’t called or shown up, and Mom is beside herself. She’s in the kitchen.”

Jameson followed her into the room and greeted her mother with a smile. “I’m sure Scott’s all right, Mrs. Winters.”

“No, he isn’t.” Her mother swung her tear-misted gaze to Cassie. “You should go to Savannah and check on him. Please. This sitting around waiting is driving me crazy.”

“Sure, Mom, and if he comes here, call me on my cell.” Her heart wrenched seeing her mother so upset. “Why don’t you lie down and rest? I’ll call you when I get to Scott’s apartment.”

“I won’t sleep until you let me know he’s fine. In fact—” she started for the counter where her purse sat “—I’m going with you. I don’t want you going alone.”

“Mom, you’ve been sick. I’ve driven back and forth from here to Savannah so many times I could do it blindfolded.”

“Darling, I don’t think you—”

“Mrs. Winters, I’ll drive Cassie to Scott’s. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Her mother fastened her attention on Jameson. “You will?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You see, I’ll be fine.” Cassie took her mother’s arm and led her toward the living room. “So while I’m gone, promise me you’ll put your feet up in your lounger and rest, or I won’t go.”

Her mom’s mouth pinched into a frown. “I don’t like being blackmailed.”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to it if you’d follow your doctor’s orders. You did too much today.” Cassie helped settle her into the comfortable chair, then put the footrest up for her. “I’m a phone call away if you need me or if Scott finally shows up.” She pulled her cell out of her jeans pocket to emphasize the point.

Her mother waved her hand. “Go, y’all. Now.”

Five minutes later Cassie sat next to Jameson in his car as he backed out of the driveway and headed toward the highway. For a moment she let the silence lengthen while she calmed herself. Her mother’s recent bout with pneumonia worried Cassie more than Scott’s lateness.

“Thanks for going to Savannah with me,” she said, needing to take her mind off her mother’s failing health. She was in God’s hands. He would care for her. “When Mom insists on something, nothing can change her mind. I’m sure that’s where my brother got his stubbornness.”

“But not you?”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m pretty laid-back.”

“How did that happen with a brother and mother who aren’t?”

“That’s why I am. Someone has to give in or you live in angst all the time. Not good for you.”

On the highway the gray of dusk cloaked the landscape in shadows. The sun sank below the tree line, coloring the pale blue sky with orange, yellow and rose. Soon it would be dark, and Cassie was secretly glad that Jameson had volunteered to drive her to Savannah. Her vivid imagination could get the best of her.

“I can’t imagine what Scott wanted to talk to Mom and me about. He didn’t give you any indication?”

“I got the impression it concerned a story he’s working on.”

“But then why would he want to talk to us? Do you think it had something to do with those students on the basketball team that he interviewed the other day? Or maybe the skeleton found under the library sidewalk? That would be a story Scott would go after.”

He shrugged. “It could be. That’s the first question we can ask him when we find him.”

Each time Jameson said “we” her smile grew. She liked the sound of it. “I just hope we don’t pass him on the highway.”

“What kind of car does he drive? I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“A 1966 red Ford Mustang.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to spot. At least not until it gets dark.”

“We’ll be on the outskirts of Savannah by that time.” Which was probably about thirty minutes away.

As silence engulfed the car again, Cassie searched her mind for a new topic of conversation. There was so much she wanted to know about Jameson, now that she had him as a captive audience. “So, where are you from originally? Where were you a reporter?”

“New York City.”

“One of the big papers?”

He nodded. “The Times.”

She whistled. “What made you give it up?”

“It was time to move on.” His tone indicated he wasn’t going to offer more information than that.

“Why did you come to Magnolia College?”

“It has a good journalism department.”

“A lot of colleges do. How’d you hear about the school?”

Cassie couldn’t help noticing his stiff posture and tight grip on the steering wheel. “I thought I was the reporter. Are you sure you don’t want to be one?”

Realizing she sounded as though she were interrogating him, she laughed, hoping to ease his strain. “I guess my brother has rubbed off on me more than I thought.” Although she attempted to lighten the mood, she was aware of the growing awkwardness in the car. Jameson was hiding something. Did it have to do with his deceased wife? She peered at his gold wedding band, barely visible in the dim dashboard lights.

“Now it’s my turn. What made you come back to Magnolia Falls after living in Savannah for years?”

“As you saw tonight, Mom isn’t well. Both Scott and I felt she needed someone to look after her. I was the one who could move the easiest.”

“Did you mind coming back?”

She thought for a moment about the question. At first she had resisted Scott’s suggestion, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d loved growing up in the small college town, and coming home would be good for her as well as her mother. “No, it was time for me to come home.”

“How does your mother feel about it?”

“She was relieved, which made me realize she was sicker than both Scott and I originally thought. Are your parents alive?”

“Both alive and well in Florida. Retired and having a ball.”

The lights of Savannah lit the dark horizon. Soon they would be at Scott’s apartment, and there was a part of Cassie that wanted this drive to last longer. She’d found out more about Jameson than she ever had before, but really it was only facts. She wanted to know so much more. But first she needed to check on her brother and put her mother’s mind at ease.

“Where does your brother live?”

She gave him Scott’s address, then the direction to his apartment. Silence fell between them again when they hit Savannah. The closer she got to her brother’s, the more the tension built inside her. She remembered the times she’d find him drunk and barely able to stand. With the Lord’s help she’d managed to get Scott to attend his first AA meeting. Thankfully he’d now been sober for more than a year and focused on his job at the paper. Scott was a pit bull when working on a story, and she was sure he’d just gotten sidetracked—that this one time her mother’s hunch was wrong.

Jameson parked out in front of the large white house that had been converted into apartments in an older section of the city. The serenity of the neighborhood appeased Cassie’s anxiety. Soon she would discover they had overreacted and have to explain their sudden appearance to her brother.

Standing on the sidewalk in front, Cassie pointed down the driveway. “Scott’s place is over the garage.” She started for the back. “He likes his privacy.” Which reminded her instantly of the man walking beside her.

She mounted the stairs on the back of the building and knocked on her brother’s door. Nothing, although the lights blazed from his windows.

“Do you have a key?”

“No. I used to with the old apartment.” There hadn’t been a need since Scott had stopped drinking.

Jameson glanced around, saw a window a few feet from the landing and stretched over the railing to peer inside. “Try the door.”

Panic bolted through her at the urgency in his words. She tried turning the knob. “It’s locked. What’s wrong?”

“He’s on the floor. A bottle of whiskey is on the coffee table nearby. Almost empty.”

“No!” Scott’s drinking again? If so, how can he be so drunk that he passed out this quickly?

Jameson straightened. “Does the manager have a key?”

“Yes.” She tried to look in the window and wasn’t tall enough to reach it. “Mrs. Alexander has an apartment on the first floor.”

“Let’s go get her.”

Cassie hurried down the stairs and ran toward the house. Inside the large foyer, she quickly crossed it and pounded on the manager’s door. A minute ticked by. Her heart beat a maddening pace. She lifted her hand to knock again when the door opened, and Mrs. Alexander greeted her with a smile that faded quickly when she stared at Cassie.

“Sugar, what’s wrong?”

“Scott’s hurt in his apartment, and I can’t get in.”

“Let me get my keys.” The older woman disappeared inside her place for a long moment before returning. “Sorry. I had a hard time finding his. It wasn’t where I usually keep it, which is strange. I must get more absentminded as I get older.”

Jameson’s presence behind Cassie soothed her as they rushed back to Scott’s as fast as Mrs. Alexander could go. Beads of sweat popped out on Cassie’s forehead as the older woman inserted the key into the lock.

Please, Lord, let Scott be all right.

As Mrs. Alexander shoved the door open, Cassie and Jameson hurried past her. The scent of whiskey—and something else she couldn’t identify—hung in the air. Sprawled on the floor by the coffee table lay Scott on his left side, not moving. As she knelt by her brother, Cassie noticed the amber liquid in the bottle. So little left.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to turn Scott over, faceup. Blood covered the left side of his head from a deep gash. For a few seconds her gaze stayed riveted to the red stain on the carpet before she could drag her attention away. When she caught sight of his open eyes staring lifelessly at her, she put her quivering fingers on the side of his neck to find his pulse.

“Please be alive. Please,” she whispered.

His skin had a bluish tinge and felt cold. She couldn’t find a pulse. “Call 911.” She looked up at Jameson. “Do you know CPR?”

He squatted on the other side of Scott. His expression, full of concern, filled her vision. He took her hand and held it.

“Cassie, it’s too late.”

“No, we can save him,” she said while Mrs. Alexander shuffled toward the phone to call 911.

“He’s dead.” Jameson stood, bringing her up with him.

She went into his arms, desperately needing the comfort. “I don’t understand. I talked to him less than four hours ago and he was fine. How can he be dead?”

Jameson didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “I don’t know, Cassie, but we’ll find out why this happened.”

“Why?” She pulled back. “He started drinking again and must have tripped and hit his head. He…” Words clogged her throat.

“Cassie, we don’t know anything for sure.” He smoothed her hair back behind her ears and cupped her face.

Remembering all the times she had sat with her brother and nursed him after a drinking binge, she shook her head and stepped away from the solace of Jameson’s touch. “I’ve been through this before. Except…” She cleared her throat. “This time I didn’t come in time. I should have been here hours ago.”

“Sugar—” Mrs. Alexander placed her hand on her arm “—the police are on their way.”

The police! Of course they had to come, but their arrival made this whole horrible situation true, not some bad nightmare she could wake up from. “What made him start drinking again?” Cassie swept her gaze from the manager to Jameson, fighting the urge to go back into his embrace. “Why didn’t he come to Magnolia Falls like he said he was? What made him change his mind?”

“I don’t have any answers, Cassie.”

“Sugar, I’ll wait for the police out front.” With a frown, Mrs. Alexander backed away, avoiding looking at Scott on the floor.

As Cassie watched the manager hurry from the apartment, the trembling started in her hands and rapidly spread through her whole body. She wrapped her arms around herself, but a blanket of cold encased her. “He had so much to live for. He never could hold his liquor well.” She sucked in one deep breath after another, but nothing filled her oxygen-deprived lungs.

Jameson encircled her in his embrace and drew her back against him. His breath fanned her neck. “Cassie, let’s go outside on the landing and wait for the police.”

She twisted around. “No. I can’t leave him alone. I should have been here earlier.”

“You didn’t know this was going to happen. You can’t blame yourself.”

The fervent tone of his voice took her by surprise. She stared into his blue eyes and saw a storm of emotions that rivaled hers. Glancing beyond him, she spied Scott on the floor, his color leached from his face. Seeing him confirmed what she’d known when she had touched him the first time: her brother was dead.

“How am I going to tell Mom?”

“I’ll come with you, if you want.”

She swung her attention back to Jameson. “You will?”

He nodded.

Mrs. Alexander entered the apartment with two police officers. She gestured toward Scott. “We found him like that.”

The older of the two surveyed the room, then fixed his sharp gaze upon Cassie and Jameson. “Are y’all the ones who asked Mrs. Alexander to unlock the door?”

Her mouth dry, Cassie started to answer the officer, but no words came out.

Instead, Jameson said, “Yes. We came to check on Miss Winters’s brother.”

A look passed between the two officers, then the older one indicated the entrance. “Let’s talk outside.” He waited for all three of them to exit the apartment first.

As Cassie stood on the small landing, the warm air did nothing to thaw the icy feeling that coursed through her. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and nearly jumped when Jameson placed his hand at the small of her back.

“Are you okay?”

Cassie gave Jameson a quick nod, although she wasn’t sure of anything. Her mind reeled.

“Mrs. Alexander, may we use your apartment to interview y’all?” the older policeman asked in a thick, Southern drawl.

“Yes.” The manager descended the stairs first.

Aware of his hand still touching her as though imparting some of his strength to her, Cassie followed with Jameson right behind her.

“I have to call Mom.” Sorrow squeezed her throat tightly, causing her voice to thicken. She knew from past experience she wouldn’t shed any tears—she’d learned long ago not to—but that didn’t stop her from feeling a deep sadness.

Jameson glanced back at the officer behind him. “Miss Winters needs to let her mother know what has happened.”

“After I talk with y’all, she can call her.”

Cassie halted and faced the older man. “She’s expecting my call. She’s the one who sent us here to check on Scott.”

“Why?”

“Because she was worried. He was supposed to be at our house a few hours ago, but he didn’t show up or answer his cell.” Under the police officer’s survey, she felt like a suspect being assessed.

Before the man could say anything, Cassie’s phone rang. She withdrew it from her pocket and looked toward the police officer. “It’s her calling.”

“Answer it. We’ll be inside.” The man mounted the steps to the porch with Mrs. Alexander.

Cassie’s hand quivered as she punched the On button. Her heart pounded. Dread covered her in a sheen of sweat. “Mom,” she said into the cell, her gaze glued to Jameson.

“Where’s Scott, Cassie?”

Jameson’s calming presence slowed the beating of her heart enough that she could answer, “He’s not with me.” She realized this wasn’t the way to tell her mother.

“He’s not there? Where is he?”

With the Lord, Cassie thought, but couldn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want her mother to be alone when she found out about Scott, especially in her precarious health.

“Mom, Jameson and I will be home shortly. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” She disconnected the cell before her mother pursued the conversation. She couldn’t out and out lie to her mom.

Jameson clasped her hand, his eyes full of sadness.

“I couldn’t tell her over the phone. We need to get back to Magnolia Falls as soon as possible. I have to be there when she’s told.”

“Then let’s wrap this up and head back.” His arm went around her shoulder.

She leaned into him as they entered the building. The officer was waiting for them in the doorway to Mrs. Alexander’s apartment, looking at them both grimly.

“Miss Winters, my partner just called from your brother’s place. Something doesn’t add up with your brother’s death.”