Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

  “No. What’s up?”

  “Neither he nor Clayton are answering their phones. I’m on my way to make sure everything’s okay.”

  16

  Emma hugged her arms around her waist after Sam left. The electricity between them was still there, reminding her that he’d been her only true love. So why had she ruined it? Not an easy question to answer, especially when she had a throbbing wrist to deal with.

  Raising her wrist eased the pain slightly while Emma rummaged in her backpack for the bottle of Tylenol. She found it and stared at the childproof cap that had to be pushed down and turned to open. With one hand. Her left one. Two attempts later, she thought about a hammer. No. She would not let a bottle cap best her. After trapping the bottle against her body, she managed to get the top off and took two pills. Now to ice her wrist again until the Tylenol took effect.

  As she sat in her recliner with an ice pack on her hand, thoughts of Sam returned. He’d appointed himself her guardian, which was so like him. It wasn’t going to be easy to be around him and not lose her heart to him again. If she hadn’t already.

  Emma had to ignore her feelings for Sam. They could never surmount the past, and she doubted he wanted to after the way she’d taken her anger out on him after Ryan left. That, coupled with her belief that he was losing interest in her, had pushed her to give his ring back. And then he’d left for Arizona without even trying to work it out.

  Looking back, Emma couldn’t blame him if she was honest with herself. Even if he’d tried, which he hadn’t, she would’ve been too stubborn to admit being wrong. She was seriously messed up ten years ago, and it had affected more than her relationship with Sam. The one with her mother needed mending as well.

  Not that either of them had ever acknowledged a problem existed. Instead, they’d just drifted apart after every discussion they had about Ryan ended in an argument. When was the last time she and her mother had a meaningful discussion that went deeper than the weather?

  She thought about calling her, but making amends with her mother needed to be done in person. That way Emma could gauge her reactions. She fished her cell phone from her back pocket.

  “Hey Siri, call my mom,” Emma said before she could change her mind about setting up a time they could get together. On the sixth ring, she was almost ready to hang up when her mom answered.

  “Emma? Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”

  Her mom’s attorney voice came through on the other end, a businesslike voice that served her well with the cases she tried. Not so much between the two of them. “No,” Emma said, wincing when she checked the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, and maybe set up a time to drop by your condo.”

  “That would be wonderful,” she said warmly. “And I’m fine, keeping busy with this latest case, but it’s coming together. The defendant is considering a plea deal, and we might not have to go to court.”

  Her mom, the workaholic. She thought about not wanting to quit at Mount Locust earlier. Must be where she got it. Perhaps they were more alike than she realized.

  “How are you?”

  “I’ve—I’m okay.” Emma had almost said she’d been better, like when she didn’t have someone shooting at her, but that would open up a thousand questions she didn’t want to answer tonight.

  “Oh, and I, ah . . .” her mother said. “I’ve been thinking about that flyer.”

  Here it comes. Emma tensed up for what was sure to follow. “And?”

  “It might not hurt to post it on social media,” she said softly.

  Emma was stunned. “Did you just say—”

  “Yes. Don’t sound so surprised. Just because I didn’t fall apart when Ryan left doesn’t mean I don’t want to find him. I wouldn’t have hired a private investigator if that had been the case.”

  “What?” She sat down hard on the sofa. Surely she hadn’t heard her mother right. “When did you hire a private investigator?”

  “Right after I moved to Jackson—about six months after Ryan left. Why?”

  “Why didn’t I know about it?”

  Her mother fell quiet.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes. I’m here. We didn’t tell you at first because we didn’t want you to get your hopes up, and when the investigator didn’t find Ryan, you were doing so much better emotionally that your dad and I decided not to say anything about it.”

  “So, Dad knew too.” It wasn’t a question. “Do you still have the investigator’s report?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’d like to see it.” Her mind hadn’t quite recovered from learning her mom had hired a PI.

  “I can save you the trouble—there isn’t much to it,” she said.

  “Do you remember if the report had a copy of Sheriff Carter’s case file?”

  “It’s been ten years . . . but yes, I think there was one. Why the sudden push to find Ryan? First with the flyer and now wanting to see the investigator’s report. Have you learned something you’re not telling me?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “And I . . . I don’t know why.”

  “Hmm.”

  Her mother’s favorite way of showing she wasn’t buying her answer. It wasn’t even a word, but it got her point across. Emma tried to formulate a different answer. Was it because Sam was back? No. She’d had Ryan on her mind before this week.

  “I think because next month it’ll be ten years . . . on our birthday,” Emma said. “I read somewhere that cold case units get more inquiries around anniversaries and birthdays of their missing loved ones than any other time.” It was the best she could come up with and at least partially true. Ten years was a long time to go without seeing her twin.

  The silence on the other end of the line drew out. “I’ll have to find the report. When do you want it?” Her mother’s voice sounded almost defeated.

  “How about I drive up to Jackson after I get off work tomorrow? We could have dinner together, call it my birthday celebration.” She glanced at her bandaged hand. “Oh, wait. I’ll have to find someone to drive me.”

  “Why?”

  “I broke a bone in my hand.” Emma explained to her mom what had happened.

  “You’ve started on the Mount Locust project?”

  “Something like that. Let me call around and see if I can get someone to run me up there tomorrow night,” Emma said. “I’ll let you know first thing in the morning.”

  Once again there was silence, then her mother said, “I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been there for you on your birthday, but you understand why, don’t you?”

  “It’s not easy for me either,” she said.

  “I know, honey. I’ll wait to hear from you before I make reservations.”

  “I’ll make it happen someway.” Emma would have to take a change of clothes to work. Her mom favored high-end restaurants and would frown if she showed up in a park service uniform. Seconds after she disconnected, her phone rang. Her friend Brooke Danvers. Emma punched the accept button. “Hey,” she said. “When did you get home?”

  “About half an hour ago,” Brooke said. “How’s your hand?”

  “Hurting, but I’ll survive. How did you find out?”

  “Sam told me.”

  Emma should have known. “How’d the trial go?” Her friend had arrested two teens on the Trace for driving a stolen car. Not a big case, but time-consuming since one of the teens was the son of a wealthy businessman, and his high-dollar attorney was dragging out the case.

  “About like you’d expect—he got off with community service.”

  “Maybe he’ll learn something.”

  “You always were the optimist.” They both laughed, and Brooke said, “What’s going on at Mount Locust? Sam told me just enough about your accident to whet my interest before he had to hang up.”

  Emma glanced at her bandaged hand. Maybe Brooke could take her to Jackson and even back and forth to work. “It’s
a long story. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Luke’s back in town, and we have a date tomorrow night.”

  Her heart sank. There went asking Brooke to take her to Jackson. That only left Sam. “How about during the day?”

  “Why?”

  “Thought you might like to do a little digging.”

  “At Mount Locust? I’d love to, but I have a hair appointment at ten, and no way can I cancel—you know how hard it is to get in with Miranda, and besides, Luke is picking me up at four.” She paused. “What’s this all about?”

  “Nothing.” Just like nothing was working out like Emma wanted. It looked like it would be her and Sam tomorrow.

  “I don’t believe you. Spill it.”

  “With my hand wrapped, I’m not supposed to drive. Don’t give it another thought. Sam will take me.” She hoped. Emma balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder. “Are you working Sunday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you mind giving me a ride to Mount Locust? And then picking me up after five?”

  “Sure, but why do I think there’s more to this story than you’re telling?”

  Emma sighed. “It’s a little awkward being around Sam after the way I broke up with him.”

  “Don’t you think you should work that out? With him back in Natchez and working as a ranger, you’ll be running into him all the time.”

  “Yeah, but we still have too much bad history between us.”

  “Only if you let it. It’s really your choice,” Brooke said.

  “It’s not that simple. I don’t think he’d ever trust me not to hurt him again, and while I no longer blame him for Ryan taking off . . .” She sighed. “It’s like I said, awkward.”

  “Your brother wasn’t Sam’s responsibility.”

  “I know that.” He was Emma’s.

  “Or yours,” Brooke added. “You’ve got to let go of this guilt you’re carrying around.”

  “I don’t feel—”

  “Yes, you do. It shows up as anger, because that’s easier to deal with. Have you ever thought about seeing a therapist?”

  “I don’t need a therapist,” Emma said. “Are you getting your hair trimmed?”

  “Go stick your head in the sand if you want to,” Brooke said. “And yes, I’m getting my hair cut.”

  She valued her friend’s advice, but this time she was wrong. All Emma needed to do was find her brother and everything else would fall into place.

  17

  Sam tried Clayton one last time before he hit the Trace. It wasn’t like his second-in-command not to answer his cell phone. Eighteen minutes later, he turned off at the Mount Locust exit and drove to the tractor shed. A light shone where they’d been digging earlier, but Sam didn’t see the tent. Or either man, even though Clayton’s and Trey’s SUVs were there.

  Frowning, he parked beside Clayton’s vehicle and grabbed his flashlight, powering it up before he stepped out of his SUV. Sam cocked his ear. Quiet. Too quiet, with not even the singing of tree frogs he’d heard last night.

  Sam unsnapped his holster and pulled his Sig 320 as he hurried to the site. Halfway there, his gut twisted when the light beam flashed on a body, propped against a tree. Clayton. With his heart knocking out of his chest, Sam knelt and felt the park ranger’s wrist. Relief was immediate. The ranger’s pulse was steady and strong, a good sign, but puzzling. It was like he’d sat down and gone to sleep.

  He stood and scanned the area. Where was Trey? When he didn’t see him, Sam walked toward the dig, calling the deputy’s name. Silence answered him. A few minutes later, the sight of the backhoe once again at the dig site stopped him. Who had moved it back to the pit? When he and Emma had left earlier, the backhoe was a good twenty yards from the dig.

  Sam noted the upright position of the bucket and then turned as headlights flashed from the Trace. Seconds later he recognized Nate’s Tahoe as he parked beside the other vehicles. Sam took out his cell phone and punched in 911 as he walked to meet the sheriff. When the dispatcher answered, he gave his location and asked for two ambulances. He didn’t have a good feeling about Trey.

  “What’s going on?” Nate asked when they met up.

  “Not sure. The backhoe is at the dig site again, and I found Clayton passed out. He seems to be breathing okay, just not conscious,” he said. “Can’t find Trey anywhere, so I called for ambulances as a precaution. I was on my way to look for him when you pulled in.”

  “Let’s see if we can find him.” They trekked through the woods to the excavation site. The tent lay toppled, and the backhoe lights were aimed at the pit. But no sign of the deputy. Sam peered into the shadowy pit and flashed his light around the bottom. A trowel lay in one corner, and he was pretty sure Emma hadn’t left it there. The hole looked deeper than earlier too. He found the measuring stick. The pit had been three feet deep when they left, and now the depth measured a little over four feet. “Whatever was buried here is probably gone,” he said.

  Nate nodded. “Let’s find Trey. I’ll take from here to the visitor center, and you can cover north of the site.”

  Sam had walked almost to Chamberlain Road when he heard Nate yell.

  “Over here!”

  He jogged to where the sheriff was helping his deputy to sit up. Trey groaned and held his hand to the back of his head.

  “What happened?” Nate was asking him.

  “I don’t know. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I heard someone at the site.”

  “What do you mean, you fell asleep?”

  Trey ran a hand over his face. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened.”

  “Go over everything you did from the time you arrived,” Nate said.

  “It’s all still kind of fuzzy.” Trey took a shaky breath. “I stopped off to visit my dad and then came straight here. First thing Clayton and I did was to secure the area. Everything looked normal so we returned to the SUVs to eat the hamburgers I’d gotten at Jug Head’s.” Trey rolled his shoulders and grimaced, then he continued. “He’d brought donuts, and about ten we ate them and drank coffee. It was after that when we decided to walk the perimeter—Clayton took one side and I took the other. And that’s the last thing I remember until I woke up and heard the backhoe running.”

  “Did you get a look at the person running the backhoe?” Sam asked.

  Trey shook his head and winced. “I was disoriented and everything was blurry. The lights from the backhoe made it hard to see anyone. They went out, and I heard someone running away, so I followed. Then there was this pain in my head, and everything went black.”

  Nate was quiet for a minute. “You were evidently drugged and then knocked out. But how were you drugged?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.” Trey rested his head in his hand. “Is Clayton okay?”

  “Knocked out, like you,” the sheriff said.

  “The coffee,” Sam said. “Did Clayton drink any of it?”

  “We both did.”

  “Was it possible someone tampered with it?”

  Trey raised his head and winced. “I don’t see how.”

  “Did you keep the thermos with you until you ate?”

  Trey frowned. “No. I left it in the SUV with the burgers.”

  “Did you lock your vehicle?”

  The deputy studied on Sam’s question. “I almost always do, although I can’t swear I did tonight. But the Tahoe was always in my line of sight.”

  Sam turned and looked toward the maintenance area. True, the vehicles were visible, but partly in the shadows. If Trey left the Tahoe unlocked, someone could have gotten in on the passenger side without being seen. The dome light wouldn’t have come on either since all police vehicles came from the factory with the light disabled. “How about at the nursing home? Did you leave your vehicle unlocked?”

  “No . . . Maybe . . . I was just going to be there a minute.”

  “Okay. That’s two opportunities for someone to slip drug
s in your thermos.”

  “But how would anyone have known I had coffee?”

  “Could have seen you when you bought it,” Nate said. “But then again, it’s not exactly a secret that you drink a lot of coffee. Do you remember anything else?”

  Before he could answer, a groan from Clayton drew Sam’s attention, and he hurried to where the ranger struggled to stand.

  “What happened?” he mumbled.

  “I don’t know. Just sit there until the ambulance arrives,” Sam said. “Do you remember if Trey’s coffee tasted funny?”

  He scrubbed his face. “I don’t remember anything unusual. But drinking the coffee is the last thing I do remember.”

  “Where’s the thermos?” Sam asked as Trey and the sheriff approached. A few miles out, the wail of sirens announced the arrival of the ambulances.

  “It’s in my SUV,” Trey said. “At least that’s where I left it.”

  They all turned as the ambulances turned off the Trace and drove to the maintenance area. “Let’s get you two checked out.” Sam helped Clayton while Nate assisted Trey.

  While paramedics looked over the two men, Nate retrieved the thermos from Trey’s vehicle. “There’s about half a cup left in the bottom, and I’ll get it tested.”

  Sam walked with him to the excavation site, where they were careful to not disturb anything. “What could be buried here that’s so important someone would knock out two officers to get? He took a big chance of getting caught.”

  “Two things come to mind. Skeletal remains or some type of treasure, and I don’t think it’s treasure.” Nate opened an app on his phone. “This afternoon, I pulled all the missing persons reports for the past fifteen years. There’ve been twenty, but fifteen have follow-up reports that showed the person was found—most of them teens who returned home. Three were found dead of natural causes when they wandered away from their homes in the dead of winter, and two have no resolution. I figure we just haven’t found the bodies yet. Emma’s brother is one of the two.”

  Emma was so certain Ryan was still alive. Sam wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t the first time he’d considered the possibility since the GPR machine had located the disturbed soil. Especially since the woman Ryan had been accused of killing was found not too far from Mount Locust. “Do we want to wait until morning to look for evidence?” Sam asked. “Or do you want to process the scene now?”