Читать книгу The Smoky Mountain Mist - Paula Graves - Страница 8

Seth met Rachel Davenport’s terrified gaze and felt sick. It didn’t help that he knew he’d done nothing wrong. She clearly believed he had. And he would find few defenders if she made her accusation public.

Cleve Calhoun had always told him it never paid to help people. “They hate you for it.”

What if Cleve was right?

“You’re awake.” The sound of Delilah’s voice behind him, calm and emotionless, sent a jolt down his nervous system.

Rachel’s attention shifted toward Delilah in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Delilah Hammond,” Delilah answered. She took the crocheted throw Seth was still holding and started folding it as she walked past him toward the sofa. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel admitted. Her wary gaze shifted back and forth from Delilah to Seth. “I don’t remember what happened.”

Delilah slanted a quick look at Seth. “That’s one of the symptoms.”

“Symptoms of what?” Rachel asked, looking more and more panicky.

“GHB use,” Delilah answered. “Apparently you did a little partying last night.”

“What?” Rachel’s panic elided straight into indignation. “What are you suggesting, that I did drugs or some-thing?”

“Considering my brother found you about to do a double gainer off Purgatory Bridge—”

“I don’t think you planned to jump off,” Seth said quickly, shooting his sister a hard look. “But you were not entirely in control of yourself.”

Delilah’s eyebrows arched delicately. Rachel just looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“I was not on Purgatory Bridge last night,” she said flatly. “I would never, ever…” She looked nauseated by the idea.

“You were on the bridge,” he said quietly. “Apparently whatever you took last night has affected your memory.”

“I don’t…take drugs.” Her anger faded again, and the fear returned, shining coldly in her blue eyes.

“Maybe someone gave something to you without your knowledge.”

Seth’s suggestion only made her look more afraid. “I don’t remember going anywhere last night. I don’t—” She stopped short, pressing her fingertips against her lips. “I don’t remember anything.”

“If you took GHB—”

Seth shot his sister a warning look.

She made a slight face at him and rephrased. “If someone slipped you GHB or something like it, it’s not uncommon for you to experience amnesia about the hours before and after the dosage.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Seth asked. Rachel stared at him. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” he said. “I can take you home.”

She shook her head quickly. “Her. She can take me.”

Damn, that hurt more than he expected. “Okay. But what do you plan to tell your family?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want people to ask uncomfortable questions.”

Her expression shifted again, and her gaze rose to Seth’s face. “My father would know what to do.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry he’s not here for you.”

Her eyes darkened with pain. “Did you know my father asked if I thought he should hire you?” she said slowly. “He told me your record. Admitted it would be a risk. I don’t know why he asked me. At the time, I didn’t have much to do with the company. I guess now I know why.”

“He trusted your instincts,” Seth said.

She looked down at her hands. “Maybe he shouldn’t have.”

“What did you tell him?” Delilah asked, her tone curious. “About Seth?”

Rachel’s gaze snapped up to meet Seth’s. “I told him to give the man a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Seth said.

“I’ve been known to be wrong.”

Ouch again.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she looked away, her profile cool and distant. To Delilah, she said, “I would appreciate a ride home. Do you think I should go to a doctor? To get tested for—” She stopped short, agony in her expression.

“Probably,” Delilah said. “I could drive you to Knox-ville if you don’t want to see anyone local.”

She shot Delilah a look of gratitude, the first positive expression Seth had seen from her since she’d awoken. “Yes. Please.”

As Delilah directed her out to the truck, she looked over her shoulder at her brother. “I’ll take care of her.” She followed Rachel out into the misty morning drizzle falling outside.

He nodded his gratitude and watched them from the open doorway until the truck disappeared around the bend, swallowed by the swirling fog. Then he grabbed his keys and headed out to the Charger, ignoring the urge to go back inside and catch some sleep.

He had to talk to a man about a girl.

NO SIGN OF recent sexual activity. The doctor’s words continued ringing in her ears long after he’d left her to dress for departure. He’d said other things as well—preliminary tox screen was negative, but if she’d consumed GHB or another similar drug, it might not be easily detectible on a standard test. And depending on how long it had been since the drug was administered, it might not show up on a more specific analysis. He’d seemed indifferent to her decision not to test for it.

She supposed he had patients who needed him more than she did.

“How are you doing?” Delilah Hammond looked around the closed curtain, her expression neutral. There was an uncanny stillness about the other woman, an ability to remain calm and focused despite having a drug-addled woman dumped in her lap to take care of. She had a vague memory that there had been a Hammond girl from the Bitterwood area who’d become an FBI agent.

“I’m fine,” Rachel lied. “Are you an FBI agent?”

Delilah’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Um, not anymore. I left the FBI years ago. I work for a private security company now.”

“Oh.”

“What did the doctor tell you?” she asked gently.

“No sign of sexual activity, but they also couldn’t find a toxicological explanation for my memory loss. Some-thing about the tests not being good at spotting GHB or drugs like it.”

“You don’t have any memory of where you might have gone last night?” Delilah picked up Rachel’s discarded clothes from the chair next to the exam table and handed them to her.

“None. The last thing I remember is being at the cemetery.”

Delilah left the exam area without being asked, giving Rachel a chance to change back into her own clothes in private. When Rachel called her name once she’d finished dressing, Delilah came back around the curtain.

“Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” Delilah said. “Because I’d want someone to be straight with me. I know about Mark Bramlett and the murders. I know that they all seemed to be connected to Davenport Truck-ing in some way. Or, more accurately, connected to you.”

Rachel put her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “Why do I feel as if everybody knows more about what’s going on in my life than I do?”

“If someone’s targeting you, up to this point it’s been pretty oblique. But drugging you up and leaving you to fend for yourself outside on a cold October night while you’re high as a kite?” Delilah shook her head. “That’s awfully direct, if you ask me. You really need to figure out why someone would want you out of the way.”

“You think I should go to the police.”

The other woman’s brow furrowed. “Normally, I’d say yes.”

“But?”

“But is there any reason why it might not be in your best interest for the police to be involved?”

Rachel’s head was pounding. “I don’t know. I can’t think.”

“Okay, okay.” Delilah laid her hands on Rachel’s shoulders, her touch soothing. “You don’t have to make that decision right now. Let’s get you home and settled in. Is there someone there who can keep an eye on you until you’re feeling more like yourself?”

“No,” Rachel said, remembering that her stepmother had made plans to leave for Wilmington after the funeral. Diane’s sister had invited Diane to visit for a few days. Paul had his own place, and while she and her stepbrother were friendly enough, she wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him to play nursemaid. She already suspected he thought she was in over her head at the trucking company. He might even be right.

She didn’t want to give him more reasons to doubt her.

“I’d offer to watch after you myself, but I have to drive to Alabama as soon as I can get away. I have a meeting with my boss, and it’s a long drive. But you’re welcome to stay at the house while I’m gone.”

She wondered if Seth was staying there, too. She didn’t let herself ask. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine at home by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

Rachel nodded, even though she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“SMOKY JOE” BRESLIN WASN’T exactly thrilled when Seth roused him from bed on a rainy morning to answer a few questions, and his responses were laced liberally with profanities and lubricated by a few shots of good Ten-nessee whiskey. Seth had never been much of a drinker, so he nursed a single shot while Breslin knocked back three without blinking.

“Yeah, she was in here last night. Looked like a hothouse flower in a weed patch, but she seemed to be enjoying the music. And there were a few fellows who enjoyed lookin’ at her, so who was I to judge?”

“Was she alone?” Seth asked.

“No, came in with some frat boy type. He tried a little something with her and she gave him a whack in the face, and some of the boys escorted him out. Not long after that, she headed out of here.”

“What kind of condition was she in?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really watchin’ when she left. I know she wasn’t fallin’-down drunk or nothin’.”

“You didn’t check to make sure she wasn’t driving?”

“Hell, you know how it can get around here on a busy night! I can’t babysit everybody who comes here for the show. I do know she didn’t have much to drink, so I didn’t worry too much about it.”

Which meant that unless she’d gone somewhere else to drink, it hadn’t been alcohol alone that had put her up on that bridge.

“What can you tell me about the frat boy?” he asked Joe.

The older man grimaced. “Just some slicked-down city fellow. You know the type, comes in here with his nose in the air givin’ everyone the stink-eye like he was better than them. I was glad to see the girl give him what for, if you want my opinion.” Joe poured another glass of whiskey and motioned to top off Seth’s.

Seth waved him off. “Did he pay for the drinks?”

“Yeah.”

“Cash or credit?”

“Credit. One of them gold-type cards for big spenders. Flashed it like it was a Rolex watch or something.”

“Would you have the receipt?”

Joe cut his eyes at Seth. “You pullin’ another scam? I don’t put up with that around here. You know that.”

“No, no scam.” He took no offense. “The woman he hit on is a friend of mine, see. I’d like to talk to the man about his behavior toward her.”

“I see.” Joe shot him an approving look. “Well, tell you the truth, she seemed to handle him pretty good all by her lonesome. But I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Just promise me you’re not gonna beat him up or shoot him or anything like that. I don’t want the cops trackin’ you back here and giving me any trouble.”

“Just want to talk,” Seth assured him, although if he found out that Frat Boy had anything to do with drugging Rachel Davenport, he couldn’t promise he’d keep his fists to himself. She’d come way too close to going off the bridge the night before. She wouldn’t have been likely to survive that fall.

Maybe the guy had slipped her something hoping it would make it easy to get lucky with her rather than to make her go off the deep end and hurt herself, but that distinction sure as hell didn’t make drugging her any less heinous a crime.

And there was still the matter of the murders. Over the past two months, four women connected to Rachel Dav-enport had been murdered in what had initially seemed like random killings. Until investigators found the perpetrator and learned he’d been hired to kill those women and make the deaths look random. With his dying words, he’d admitted that it was “all about the girl.”

All about Rachel Davenport.

Joe came back from the cluttered office just off the bar bearing a slip of paper. “Guy signed his name ‘Davis Rogers.’”

The name wasn’t familiar. Could have been someone Rachel knew from Maryville or even an old friend in town for her father’s funeral. He’d ask her about him when she got back from the hospital.

The thought of her trip to Knoxville made his chest tighten as he left Smoky Joe’s Saloon and headed toward the road to Maryville. He’d taken the past two days off work, but he was scheduled to work the next four. He had some vacation time coming to him, and he figured this might be the right time to take it.

He was surprised to find Paul Bailey in the office when he asked to see whoever was in charge while Rachel was out. Bailey had the account books open and looked up reluctantly when Seth stepped inside.

“Mr. Bailey, I’ve had a family situation come up. I know it’s short notice, but I have a couple of weeks of vacation built up, and I’d like to take them now if possible.”

Bailey’s gaze was a little unfocused, as if his mind was still on whatever he’d been doing before Seth interrupted. “Yeah, sure. Nobody else has any days off scheduled, and they’ll be happy to have the extra hours this time of year, with the holidays coming up. Just let Sharon at the front desk know what days you’re taking, and she’ll put it on the schedule.”

“Thank you.” Seth started to turn away, then paused. “I’m real sorry about Mr. Davenport.”

“Thank you,” Bailey answered with a regretful half smile.

On impulse, Seth added, “By the way, do you know a Davis Rogers?”

Bailey’s gaze focused completely. “Why do you ask?”

“I just ran into a guy with that name last night at a bar,” Seth lied. “He mentioned he knew the family. We drank a toast to Mr. Davenport.”

“Last night?”

Seth kept his expression neutral. “Yeah. He mentioned he was thinking about selling his car, and I know someone in the market. I should’ve gotten his phone number, but I didn’t think about it until afterward.”

“He’s not from here,” Bailey said with a dismissive wave. “Probably couldn’t work out a sale anyway before he heads back to Virginia.”

Seth had a vague memory that Rachel had gone to college somewhere in Virginia. So, maybe an old college friend.

Maybe even an old boyfriend.

A sliver of dismay cut a path through the center of his chest. He tried to ignore it. “Thanks anyway.” He left the office before Paul Bailey started to wonder why one of his fleet mechanics was suddenly asking a lot of nosy questions.

He stopped in the fleet garage, where he and the other mechanics shared a small break room. The three mechanics working in the garage today were out in the main room, so he had the place to himself.

Grabbing the phone book they kept in a desk drawer, he searched the hotel listings, bypassing the cheaper places. Joe Breslin had described Davis Rogers as a slicked-back frat boy, which suggested he’d stay at a nice hotel.

Was that Rachel’s type? Preppy college boys with their trust funds and their country club golf games?

Drop it, Hammond. Not your concern.

She wasn’t exactly what he considered his type, either. She was attractive, clearly, but quiet and reserved. And maybe if he hadn’t begun to put clues together that suggested the recent Bitterwood murders were connected to Davenport Trucking, he might never have allowed himself to think about Rachel Davenport as a person and not just a company figurehead.

But ever since he’d given up the con game for the straight and narrow, he’d shown an alarming tendency to take other people’s troubles to heart. And Rachel Daven-port’s life was eaten up with trouble these days.

An old twelve-step guy he knew had told him overcompensation was a common trait among people who felt the need to make amends for what they’d done. They tended to go overboard, wanting to save the whole damned world instead of fix the one or two things they could actually fix.

And here he was, proving the guy right.

Using his cell phone, he called Maryville hotels with no luck. He was about to start calling Knoxville hotels when he remembered there was a bed-and-breakfast in Bitterwood that offered the sort of services a guy like Davis Rogers would probably expect from his lodgings. The odds were better that he was staying in Knoxville, but Sequoyah House was a local call, so what would it hurt?

The proprietor at Sequoyah House put him right through to Davis Rogers’s room when he asked. Nobody answered the phone, even after several rings, but Seth had the information he needed.

He had a few tough questions for Davis Rogers, and now he knew where to find him.