Kitabı oku: «Don't Look Back», sayfa 3

FOUR

Jameson stepped forward. “You think there may have been foul play?”

“It’s a possibility. Until we know more, we’re handling it as a murder investigation.”

“Scott murdered?” The words staggered Cassie. Jameson clasped her against him as her legs gave way. “How—I mean…” She didn’t know what to say. Thoughts that made no sense tumbled through her mind.

“Why does your partner think that?” Jameson tightened his hold on her.

“We’ll know more after our forensics team goes over the crime scene and we get the autopsy report.”

“Crime scene,” Cassie whispered, her throat raw with emotion.

“Let’s go inside and talk.” The police officer stepped to the side to allow Cassie and Jameson to enter the apartment.

He started forward.

Cassie hung back, frozen to the spot. “I can’t do this. I need to get home and tell Mom. I don’t want her to hear from anyone but me.”

“Ma’am, I understand. I’ll try to get you home as quickly as possible.” The young man went first through the entrance into Mrs. Alexander’s place.

“Cassie?”

The concern in Jameson’s voice touched the icy grip on her heart. She took a deep, fortifying breath and moved into the apartment.

The aroma of coffee drifted to her. Such an ordinary smell. Then Cassie remembered the other scents that accosted her in Scott’s living room—whiskey, blood. She shuddered.

Mrs. Alexander bustled out of the kitchen. “I’ve put a pot of coffee on. Would anyone like a cup?”

Cassie’s stomach churned, and she shook her head.

“I’ll take one.” Jameson guided her toward the couch and sat.

“Sure,” the officer said to Mrs. Alexander, who immediately went back into the kitchen. He sank into a chair across from Cassie and Jameson and opened his pad. “Tell me what happened.”

Exhausted beyond sleep, Cassie trudged into the kitchen, so glad to see Jameson still at the house even though it was well past midnight. He glanced up, quickly masking the apprehension in his expression.

“How’s your mom?” He cradled his mug and brought it to his lips to take a sip.

Cassie eased down into the chair next to him. “Finally asleep.”

He held up his cup. “Do you want any coffee?”

“No, can’t stand the stuff.” She stared at the oak tabletop, trying to put some kind of order to her thoughts. The sound of her mother’s sobs still crowded her mind. Someone did this to her family. She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I want to find whoever did this and make him pay.”

“The police will be looking into Scott’s death. It hasn’t been ruled a murder yet.”

“So you think he simply fell and hit his head on the table?”

“There was blood on the edge of it and on nothing else—at least that I could see.” The last few words were spoken with less conviction that it wasn’t murder.

“Maybe the killer took it with him.”

“You would rather Scott had been murdered than drinking again?”

“No, of course…” She tightened her hands even more until her knuckles stood out, white. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But that officer was suspicious.”

“I don’t think it’s just because Scott had liquor all over the front of his shirt. He could have spilled that on himself. Whatever it is, the police aren’t saying. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling.”

She remembered one time that her brother had been so drunk he had done that very thing. Which was worse? Her brother drinking himself to death or someone killing him?

Jameson covered her hands with his. “Let’s give the police a chance. They’ll know more after the autopsy. His blood alcohol level will indicate whether he was drinking or not.”

Anger that held her stiff siphoned from her, and she sagged against the table. “I had to listen to my mother cry herself to sleep. We had come through so much with Scott. He was getting his life back on track finally. What if someone came along and ended it—” she snapped her fingers “—just like that. It could be tied to a story he was working on.”

“Why do you say that?” Jameson downed the last swig of his drink.

“All the questions about whether Scott worked at home or not, how he kept notes on a story he was investigating. Right before we left, I overheard one of the detectives say he was going down to the newspaper next.”

“That could mean anything. Scott had already gained quite a reputation for digging until he discovered the whole truth. He’d made a few people unhappy with some of his stories.”

Cassie scraped the chair back and shot to her feet. “Exactly! Scott could have made someone angry with one of his pieces, and he got even by killing him.”

“That’s a possibility, and the police will look into it. But they’re also asking questions about Scott and his drinking.”

Leaning forward, she rested her knuckles on the plaid place mat. “After the scene is processed, they want me to go through Scott’s place and see if anything is missing.”

“The police need to rule out robbery as a motive, if he was murdered.”

The thought of going through her brother’s possessions, knowing she would have to box them up soon, chilled her. “I—I know, but…”

Jameson rose. “Do you want me to go with you? I don’t mind helping.”

“I hate to ask you—”

He covered the small space between them and clasped her arms, compelling her to look up into his face. “You didn’t ask. I volunteered. I don’t mind. Scott was a friend. You are a friend.”

His words melted some of the cold deep in the marrow of her bones. Emotions she’d held at bay wedged a lump in her throat.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “It’s okay to cry.”

She fought the tears back. “I don’t like to cry.”

“Why?”

It’s a sign of weakness, of losing control. Her gymnastics coach’s words came back to her. Whenever she had fallen in practice, she was never allowed to shed one tear. After years it had become ingrained in her. But she couldn’t tell Jameson that. Instead she murmured, “I just don’t.”

The steady beat of his heart drummed against her ear. His faint scent surrounded her and brought some consolation to her.

“It’s never easy losing a loved one,” Jameson finally said, breaking the silence. “No matter the reason for the death.”

She remembered the death of his wife at the end of last year. Had he had anyone to help him through his pain? He always seemed so alone. Was he experiencing his own loss again?

Cassie pulled back, their gazes reconnecting. “I know. If you ever want to talk about your wife, I’m a good listener.”

Surprise flickered in and out of his eyes. “This isn’t about me.”

If she pushed back her own sorrow and helped Jameson with his, would it fill the void Scott’s death left in her? “This is about losing a loved one, and you lost your wife last year.”

He backed away. “I had plenty of time to prepare myself for her death. She was sick for quite some time.”

“Can you ever really prepare yourself for a loved one’s death?”

He took another step away from her. “How did this conversation suddenly become about me?”

“Have you talked to anyone about your wife dying?” She didn’t really need to ask him that question. She knew the answer.

His gaze narrowed, his face frowned. “I need to leave. Let me know if you want me to go with you to Scott’s when the police give you the okay.”

She understood he was closing the door on any conversation concerning his deceased wife. But still, she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. “I’ll let you know when they call. Mom won’t want me to go alone, and I don’t think she should go right now.”

“Are you going to say anything to your mother about the possibility of Scott being murdered?”

“I could only bring myself to tell her it was an accident. She’s been through so much with Scott and her own failing health. I don’t want her to know it could have been murder until the police declare that officially. I’ve asked them not to talk to Mom until they absolutely have to. The detective said he would let me know when.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t say anything, but you may want to moderate the news in case some reporter speculates about the investigation.”

She nodded. “I hate to think what this will do to Mom if it is true.”

The grief he saw in Cassie’s eyes mirrored his own grief for his wife. Maybe if he helped Cassie and her mother through their sorrow, it would ease some of his guilt.

“I’d better go. Call me after you talk to the police.” Jameson crossed to the dining room entrance.

Outside in the cool fall air, he paused, trying not to remember the words Liz’s father shouted at him that day long ago in the hospital. But he couldn’t forget them. They burned into his mind as though the man had branded him with them.

You’re responsible for my daughter lying here in this bed.

And he couldn’t argue that point. He was responsible.

Sunday afternoon Jameson pulled into the long driveway that led to Scott’s apartment above the garage. “So the police have made it official. He was murdered.”

“That’s what Detective Harrison told me. He was hit with some kind of blunt object. The amount of alcohol in his system was minimal, likely poured in his mouth postmortem. They are searching the surrounding area to see if anything turns up.”

“But they’re through with the apartment?”

“Yes and his car is in the garage.” On the drive to Savannah, she and Jameson had discussed everything but what had happened to Scott, as though they had mutually decided to avoid the subject for as long as possible. “I called Mrs. Alexander and she told me the key would be under Scott’s doormat. She wasn’t sure she would be home from church when we arrived.”

“Did you tell your mother before you left?”

“No. I will when I get back home. I didn’t want to leave right after I told her.” Cassie opened the passenger door and climbed from the car.

“Does she know you’re coming to Scott’s place?”

Cassie rounded the front of the vehicle and halted, facing the garage. “Yes. A neighbor is staying with her until I return home. And our pastor is stopping in to see her after church.”

Jameson came to her side, his arm brushing against hers. “Now that I see this in broad daylight, his apartment is pretty secluded.”

“Yeah, the way Scott wanted it. I helped him move in. I wish I hadn’t.”

Jameson fit her hand within his. “That wouldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to live here.” He gestured toward the structure at the far end of the driveway.

The three-car garage sat at the back of the property, with the entrance to the apartment above it around the back. Large azalea bushes obscured the path in several places. “I could easily see someone lying in wait for Scott.”

“But I didn’t see any signs of a struggle in his apartment, and I doubt anyone hit him over the head and dragged him up the steps.”

Cassie gasped. “You think it was someone Scott knew?”

“Possibly.”

The implication sent her heart pounding, its roar drowning out all sounds for a few minutes as she thought of her brother being killed by someone he trusted. A cool breeze stirred the leaves on the live oak shading the driveway, causing the Spanish moss to dance as though someone were pulling its strings. Cassie hugged her sweater to her.

“What do we do?” she whispered around the knot in her throat.

“We check out his apartment and let the police know if anything is missing. Then we let them do their job.”

The way he said “we” warmed her. She felt comforted just knowing she wouldn’t have to go through this ordeal alone. “Thank you.”

“I’m just doing what any friend would do.” He guided her toward the stairs.

Slowly Cassie mounted the steps, each one bringing her closer to the murder scene. She withdrew the key from under the mat and tried to unlock the door, but her hands shook.

“Here, I’ll do it.” After taking the key from her grasp, Jameson inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. He eased the door open, then faced her, taking her quivering hands within his. “I’m with you every step of the way. If you want to do this another day, just say the word and we’re out of here.”

She welcomed his presence more than he would ever know. She forced herself to smile, but she couldn’t maintain it. “I need to get this over with. If something is missing, it might help the police find out who killed Scott.”

Wordlessly Jameson entered her brother’s apartment first, scanning the living room before allowing her inside. When she stepped through the entrance, she found it difficult to breathe. Her gaze was riveted to the spot on the carpet where Scott had been lying, the dry, red stain ridiculing her remaining composure. The faint stench of blood accosted her nostrils, and she gagged.

She bit her lower lip and backed up, her fingers pressing into her mouth. Suddenly she wanted to cry, but no tears came. Scott was gone. She no longer had to protect him and look out for him, but she wished she still did.

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell Mom Scott was murdered.”

Jameson drew her past the place on the rug where they had found Scott and down the short hall. “Let’s start in his bedroom.”

The first thing that struck her when she saw the room was how neat and orderly her brother had always been. Even his bed was made, whereas she often left hers a mess. They had been so different. She stood in the entrance and swept her gaze over the pieces of furniture, trying to visualize what Scott had.

“His TV is still here. And his radio.” Cassie walked farther inside, trying to remember what she’d helped him move a few months back. “He really doesn’t have a whole lot besides his TV, radio and—” she spun around “—his computer. Did you see it in the living room?”

“No. Where does he usually keep it?”

Cassie crossed to the closet and opened it. “Wherever he decides to work. It’s a laptop.” After inspecting the contents of the shelf and floor, she turned toward Jameson. “If his murder is connected to his work, then the computer is important as well as his tape recorder.”

“Then let’s search for them.” He made his way back into the living area.

Cassie again paused in the entrance, glad that the couch blocked her view of the red-stained carpet. She did a visual sweep of the large room with the kitchen off to the left, but saw nothing out of place. A picture of her brother sitting at the small kitchen table typing on his laptop popped into her mind. She peered toward it, but its bare surface mocked her.

While Jameson circled the spacious open area, Cassie hung back, frozen in place. Sweat broke out on her forehead and palms. She watched while Jameson opened cabinets and drawers in the small kitchen and even checked the refrigerator.

Finally he faced her, his gaze reaching out to her. “I can’t find the laptop or recorder. Would they be anywhere else?”

“Maybe in his car. I know the police inventoried its contents. They didn’t say anything about his laptop being in it.”

“How about at the paper?”

Cassie shook her head. “He has a computer there. And he always had his recorder on him in case something came up unexpectedly. There wouldn’t be any reason for it to be at the newspaper.”

“Then let’s take a look at his car. If we don’t find them, we can tell the police they are missing for sure.”

“Which means his murder is probably connected to something he was working on.”

Jameson closed the space between them. “Yes. Do you know what story he was writing?”

“No, he always kept things secret until his story came out. The last story published was that series on corruption at nursing homes run by the Bender Corporation. The last article was a few days ago.”

“Let’s go check his car, then call Detective Harrison.”

“Yeah, I need to get home and talk to Mom before someone else tells her.” But first she had to walk past that stain in the carpet.

She started forward but couldn’t move. When Jameson turned back to her, her gaze shifted toward the area where Scott had been lying when they had found him Friday night. “I—I can’t…”

Jameson held out his hand for her.

A fine sheen of perspiration covered her face. She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans, then lifted one toward him. It quavered between them.

His firm clasp surrounded her fingers. “You won’t have to come back here again, Cassie, if you don’t want to.”

His calm voice soothed her raw nerves, but still her legs wouldn’t obey the command from her brain to walk.

I can do this.

Then suddenly Psalm 23 flowed through her mind, prodding her forward. When she got to the place where the red stain was, she said out loud, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

A few seconds later a chilly breeze whipped her long hair around her face. While Jameson locked the door, she gripped the wooden railing and relished the scent of fall in the fresh air.

Her heartbeat returned to normal as she repeated the last two verses of the Psalm. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Anything was possible with Jesus by her side, even coping with her brother’s murder.

“Are you okay?” Jameson positioned himself on the first step.

When she looked toward him, they were eye to eye, compassion darkening his gaze. Eleven months ago he’d buried his wife. He knew exactly what she was going through. In that moment a connection sprung up between them that went beyond friendship. He felt it, too, she could tell.

He glanced away, scanning the driveway. “Where’s Scott’s car?”

Cassie gestured toward the garage. “In there. He paid a little extra to park his prize in there.”

“Didn’t you say he drove a Mustang?” Jameson headed down the stairs.

His speaking of Scott in the past tense caused her to stumble on the last step. She grabbed the railing and steadied herself. She gripped the wood for a few seconds, then pushed away from the stairs while desperately preparing herself to see something Scott had loved.

“Yes, he had to restore it. He’d been working on it for years and finally finished it a few months ago.” Cassie led the way to the side entrance into the garage.

“I remember him saying something about it.”

Sitting at the far end was the red Mustang. The light streaming through the set of windows in the door reflected the high-gloss polish of the metal and chrome. Memories overwhelmed her—of Scott working on the car, of him searching the junkyards for just the right part.

Jameson whistled. “She’s a beauty. What are you going to do with her?”

The question took her by surprise. “I don’t know. I can’t see anyone else driving the Mustang.”

Jameson tried the car door. “It’s locked.”

“Scott kept a key hidden in here in case he ever lost his other one.” Cassie examined the paneling along the back wall and found what she was looking for. She pried a board up and retrieved the second set.

After she tossed Jameson the key, he used it to unlock the car. He stuck his head inside and felt under the front seat. “There’s nothing in here. I’ll check the trunk, too.” A minute later he announced, “They aren’t in here, either.”

Cassie sagged against the front bumper, her hand splayed over the shiny red hood. “Then the laptop and recorder were stolen.”

“I’ll call the police and let them know, then we’d better head back to Magnolia Falls.”

An hour later as Jameson pulled up to her house, Cassie hadn’t thought anything could be worse than having to check out Scott’s apartment. But she was wrong. She still had to tell her mother about her son being murdered. Cassie didn’t even know where to begin.

While Jameson climbed from his vehicle, she rested her hand on the handle, watching him come round the front and to her side. Her body was frozen in place. She kept thinking about her mother’s poor health and what the news would do to her. She was the only close family her mom had left.

I am with you always to the very end of the age. The verse came unbidden into her mind and comforted her.

Lord, please help me so that I can do this. She yanked on the handle and pushed the door open.

Jameson assisted her from the car and placed his hand at the small of her back as they walked to the porch. Before Cassie had a chance to unlock the front door, it swung open and revealed her neighbor’s worried face.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Mrs. McVay said. “The phone has been ringing nonstop. I finally took it off the hook, but your mom doesn’t know that.”

“Who’s been calling?”

“Mostly the press. They want a statement about your brother’s murder.”

Cassie gasped. “I didn’t think about that. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. I hung up, which I’m sure made them call all the more. Thankfully Victoria was taking a nap.”

“Is she still asleep?”

The woman shook her head. “I fixed her some tea. She’s out on the back porch drinking it.”

Cassie hugged her neighbor. “Thanks for everything. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’d do anything for you and your mom.” Mrs. McVay waved goodbye and hurried toward her house.

Cassie walked through the living room and pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen. “A couple of ladies from the church brought over some food right before I left for Savannah.” She glanced back at Jameson, who was right behind her, so close she could smell his light scent. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“I would hate to intrude—”

“Nonsense, Jameson. Cassie is right. You should stay for dinner. You’ve been such a big help to us.”

Cassie whirled around to find her mother standing at the counter with several casserole dishes in front of her. “Mom! I thought you were out on the porch. Resting.”

“I’ve had my fill of resting, sleeping, doing nothing. I need to stay busy. I’m fixing us something to eat. What would y’all like to have?” Her mother lifted the first lid. “We can have tuna casserole or—” she checked the next dish “—or chicken and rice with broccoli. Which will it be?”

Cassie slid a look toward Jameson next to her. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

“I tell you what, Mrs. Winters. Let me throw something together while you and Cassie talk out on the porch.”

“But I—”

“Mom, come on. We haven’t had much time today—”

Her mother frowned. “I know when I’m being managed. What aren’t you telling me, young lady?”

“I talked with a Savannah detective this morning.”

“And he told you Scott was murdered.”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

“I knew something—” her mother patted her chest over her heart “—was wrong in here. I called Mrs. Alexander after you and Jameson left this afternoon. She told me. Quit trying to protect me. I’m stronger than you think. If you want to talk, I’ll be out on the porch.” She grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open.

Stunned, Cassie stared at the spot where her mom had been standing only a few seconds before.

Jameson turned the oven on. “Now that Scott’s body is going to be released, you probably should talk to her about funeral arrangements. She needs to be a part of that.”

“Yes, and I need to call our pastor to see when the church is available.” Cassie strode to the wall phone and punched in some numbers.

Jameson listened to her make arrangements for her pastor to come over for dinner. That was his cue to leave. Talk of a funeral stirred memories he wanted to forget of his wife’s. Liz’s parents had made it clear throughout her funeral what they thought of him. The small, intimate service had lasted an eternity.

As Cassie hung up the phone, Jameson stuck a casserole dish into the oven. “This should be ready to eat in about forty minutes. I’ll get everything else laid out for dinner, then leave.”

“Leave? Why?”

“Because your meeting with your pastor is a family affair. I don’t belong.” The last time he had been in a church was his wife’s funeral, and before that it had been years. He’d walked away from the Lord when He had abandoned him and Liz.

“I’ll call you about the funeral. I hope you’ll be a pallbearer. You meant a lot to my brother.”

“Sure. Just let me know what I can do.”

“I’ll call you later about the arrangements, and thanks again for going with me to Scott’s apartment. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Under the circumstances, you shouldn’t go there alone.”

“You don’t think we’re in danger, do you?”

Jameson leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t know. Probably not if the killer got what he wanted.”

“He has the laptop and the police said Scott didn’t have the tape recorder on him. What else…” Cassie’s eyes widened as the realization hit her.

Jameson straightened. “What is it?”

“We didn’t find Scott’s notepad. He used it whenever someone didn’t want to be recorded.”