Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

  “Try this.” The sheriff uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to her.

  Once she downed half the water, she shook her head as if trying to clear it.

  “Before you lock in to this being your brother, we need to do a DNA analysis of the bone you found,” Nate said. He fished the ring from his pocket. “And check with the university about the initials.”

  “Unless there’s another RTW who graduated in 2012, it’s Ryan’s.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not much chance of that, is there?”

  “I’ll check Monday.” Although Sam felt pretty sure the ring belonged to her brother, it would be easy enough to do the research and faster than waiting for DNA results.

  “I kept telling myself he was alive,” she said, her voice cracking. “That I’d know it, no, that I’d feel it, if he’d died.”

  “I did the same thing,” Sam said. “I kept picturing him in Alaska. It’s where he always wanted to go.”

  “Why did someone kill him?” Emma took a shaky breath and released it. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Nate tapped his fingers against his leg. “I figure it has to do with that girl’s death. Mary Jo Selby.”

  “I never believed he killed her,” she said.

  “Someone wants everyone to think he did.” Sam glanced toward the grave. “Whoever killed her even drove his car to Memphis to make it look as if he’d left the area.”

  “That way no one was looking for the real killer,” Nate said.

  “How did the killer get home from Memphis?” Sam asked.

  “Could’ve taken the bus—”

  “Or rented a car,” Sam said, finishing the sheriff’s sentence.

  Emma took a deep breath and released it. Color had not yet returned to her face, making the dark circles under her eyes even darker. Weariness shadowed her.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples, then she raised her head, tears glistening in her eyes again. “My parents . . . I have to break the news to them.”

  Sam took her hand. “I’ll help you tell them.”

  “I don’t think you should tell them until the DNA results are back,” Nate said. “We’ll keep what we’ve found under wraps until then.”

  Relief showed in her eyes. “Yes. We want to make sure it was Ryan who was buried here. Where do I take the DNA test?”

  “I have a kit down at my office,” Nate said. “You want to drop by in the morning?”

  While Nate and Emma set a time, the sun slipped behind the tree line, taking any warmth that had been in the air with it. Sam checked his watch. After five. It was too late to check with the university or the ring company today. What was he thinking? It was Saturday. An alarm on Emma’s phone went off.

  “It’s my reminder to get dressed, but I don’t know . . . maybe I should cancel . . .” Then she shook her head. “No. We need that private investigator’s report now more than ever.”

  “What kind of report are you talking about?” the sheriff asked.

  “Emma talked with her mom last night, and Dina had hired a private investigator to find Ryan not long after he went missing. She still has the investigator’s report, and there might be a copy of Sheriff Carter’s report in it.”

  “I’d like to see that,” Nate said. He turned to Emma. “Are you up to getting it? Otherwise, I can contact your mom.”

  “No, don’t do that. It would make her suspicious.” She squared her shoulders and turned to Sam. “Give me ten minutes to grab my clothes and get dressed.”

  “I’ll change as soon as you finish.”

  While Emma went to change, Nate said, “I’ll take a closer look at Sheriff Carter’s files. It isn’t an active case, and there’s no reason for his report not to be there. Maybe I just overlooked it,” he said. “Files don’t just get up and walk off on their own.”

  27

  Emma’s fingers trembled as she tied a silver-and-black scarf around her neck. She dreaded the closure that would come if the grave held her brother’s remains. That wasn’t the kind of closure she’d hoped for. In fact, she wanted to pray the remains belonged to someone other than Ryan because if they were his, her hopes of finding him were destroyed.

  She wouldn’t think about it now. There was still a possibility the ring didn’t belong to her brother and her DNA wouldn’t match the bone she’d found. Mentally Emma shifted gears. Focused on making it past this dinner with her mom and getting the private investigator’s report. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d think about riding to Jackson with her good-looking escort. Not a good choice either.

  She tugged the sparkly black sweater, trying to stretch it a little. Giving up, Emma slipped on dressy jeans and the high-heeled boots that would give a little height to her short frame. Not her regular look, and all purchased by her mom in hopes of improving Emma’s wardrobe. Thank goodness she didn’t have to walk through the woods in the boots.

  Frowning, Emma removed the scarf and retied it, letting the ends dangle. That was a little better. She should have known to try on the new sweater, but maybe the scarf would help cover that it was a little snug. Too late now to do anything about it since she hadn’t brought anything else to wear.

  She peered in the faded mirror. Maybe a little powder and the tinted moisturizer for her lips to complete the look. Her mother would expect Emma to look her best when they went out. She’d just returned her lipstick to her backpack when her cell phone rang. Her mom? She wasted no time answering.

  “Since I haven’t heard differently, I assume you’re coming,” her mother said, bypassing normal pleasantries.

  “Yes. I’m about to leave Mount Locust now.”

  “Meet me at the house, and we’ll go to Ricco’s from there.”

  “Great. See you there. Still at seven?” Silence was the only answer Emma received. Her mom had hung up. Dina Winters had been in full attorney mode.

  Emma took a small black clutch from her backpack and slipped the cell phone inside. If she was wrong and it was seven thirty, all it would cost her was thirty minutes of time. That was much better than being late. She sighed. It was going to be a long night, made longer by keeping Ryan’s probable death a secret.

  Sam was waiting at his SUV when she locked the door to the building. Standing a little straighter, she carefully walked toward him. The look of approval in his eyes warmed her heart, even as she tried not to turn her ankles in the boots.

  “You clean up well,” he said softly.

  She punched him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I think. Wait, how did you get changed?” she asked, noticing he was in his ranger uniform. “I didn’t hear you inside.”

  “I slipped inside one of the sheds,” he said. “And I was just teasing about you cleaning up well. You always look good.”

  Now she was really flustered. Maybe he was being nice because . . . She blocked the thought and gave him her mom’s address.

  “You said she lives in the Fondren District?” Sam asked.

  “In a small gated community there. The address is in my phone’s GPS if you want me to activate it,” she replied.

  “Maybe when we get to Jackson,” he said and opened the passenger door. “Sorry it’s the official vehicle, but my pickup is at Jenny’s.”

  “This is fine. You’re only taking me to Mom’s.” Emma fastened her seat belt. It wasn’t like he would be valet parking at the expensive restaurant. Not that it would bother Emma, but she wasn’t sure about her mom—she was such a stickler for appearances. Emma wanted to keep the two apart, anyway. She wasn’t up to being interrogated by her mom about her relationship with Sam. Or her non-relationship.

  There was little traffic on the Trace, and they rode in silence with the events of the afternoon hanging between them. Her thoughts kept returning to her brother, and she fished a tissue from her bag and dabbed her eyes.

  “I can’t get Ryan off my mind either.” Sam’s voice was husky.

  “It’s like it’s not real.” Her mind hadn’t completely accepted that her brother
was dead. Just thinking about it made it hard to breathe. Could she even get through this dinner with her mother?

  “I keep thinking, if I had stayed with Ryan . . .”

  “Don’t do that to yourself,” she said. “It wasn’t like you had a choice.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  She knew what he was referencing. Words Emma had thrown at Sam. “I had no right to blame you,” she said. “And it was unreasonable for me to suggest you could have called a tow truck for Jenny. I know you didn’t have the money for that.”

  Sam flinched and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  His dad had left the family when Sam was a teenager, and what he made working as a seasonal ranger on summer break from college went to help his mom pay her bills. Anything left over went to pay for the things his scholarship to the university in Arizona didn’t cover.

  Their dates had been whatever free activities they could find. Not that she minded. A smile touched her heart as she remembered some of their dates. Free concerts in the park. Fishing in a local lake. Picnics, and since her brother and Sam were best friends, when Ryan was sober, he sometimes accompanied them. She sighed. Emma had some good memories of her twin brother. “How long do you think it’ll take to hear back about the DNA results?”

  “Depends. Nate and I talked about it, and he plans to take two swabs and send one to a company he sent the coffee sample to—those results should be available in two to three days. The other swab will go to the lab the state uses, and how long it takes will depend on how backed up they are.”

  “What about this Rapid DNA machine I’ve read about?”

  “None here yet.” Sam turned off the Trace onto I-20. “You can turn on the GPS anytime.”

  Emma opened her app and tapped on her mom’s address. A very British accent directed them to exit onto I-55 north. She remembered Nate talking about how strapped his department was for funds. “I didn’t realize the county had money to conduct two tests.”

  His face colored. “I told him I’d pay for one of them.”

  Her heart warmed. “I can’t let you do that. I’ll pay for it.”

  “No, you won’t. It’s already taken care of, and it wasn’t much money, anyway.”

  She ducked her head. Somehow she would make it up to him. “If Nate sends the tests in on Monday, do you think we’ll hear something by the end of the week?”

  “I hope so.”

  Emma had to live a whole week without total certainty the grave they’d found belonged to Ryan.

  28

  Emma stared down at her hands. She’d shredded the tissue, leaving little pieces of it on her dressy jeans. “Rats,” she muttered and used her hand to smooth them away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have tissue lint all over my jeans.” Tears sprang to her eyes. The closer they got to her mother’s place, the more dread she felt. What if she let something slip about Ryan?

  “Try one of the latex gloves in my console,” he said. “They work pretty good to get lint off my clothes.”

  Emma grabbed a glove and tried to wiggle it over her left hand, huffing a breath when she couldn’t get the glove on.

  “Hey, what’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

  “I can’t get the glove on, and I’m tired of trying to do everything with my left hand, and . . . I can’t get Ryan off my mind.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll help you get the glove on when we stop, and we can talk about your brother, if you’d like.”

  Emma didn’t want to discuss Ryan. She wanted to quit thinking about him, but she heard herself ask, “If it wasn’t my brother buried in the grave, how did his ring get there? If it is him, who killed him? And how about Mary Jo? She was found three miles away, and her killer hadn’t tried to bury her body.” She caught her breath and turned to Sam. “What if Ryan killed her and lost his ring when he dug the grave?”

  “But he didn’t bury her. Coon hunters found her body.”

  “Maybe they found her before . . .”

  “Then whose body was buried at Mount Locust?”

  Emma leaned back against the seat. “I’ve thought about this until my brain is mush.”

  “We’ll get it figured out,” Sam said. “I don’t believe he killed anyone, and I’m pretty sure it was his body buried in the grave, which I think the DNA test will confirm.”

  Her left hand curled into a fist as a flash of anger burned in her chest. “Then I want to track down whoever killed him and make him pay,” she said. “And I will if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  “Absolutely not!” He held his hand up. “You are staying out of the investigation. This person is dangerous and you are not trained.”

  He was not locking her out. “You’re saying you don’t want the private investigator’s report?”

  Silence filled the cab. “Emma, you could get hurt, or worse.”

  The report was the only leverage she had over him, and she wasn’t above using it. “If I’m with you all the time, I don’t see how you’re going to investigate without me,” she said with a satisfied grin.

  Evidently he had no answer, and she slipped a sidelong glance at him. The muscle in his jaw worked furiously. “I trust you to keep me safe,” she said. “Do you have a bottle of water? I’d like to take something for my hand before we get there.”

  “Afraid not, but I can pull off at the next fuel station.”

  He seemed to be glad to get off the subject of Ryan. While he went inside for the water, she used the wadded glove over her jeans, surprised at how well it worked. When he returned, she took out her pill bottle and downed two pills, wishing she’d taken them earlier.

  “What are we waiting for?” she asked when Sam didn’t put the SUV into gear.

  “Are you going to be all right seeing your mom and not telling her about Ryan?”

  Instead of answering, Emma put the pill bottle in the small purse.

  “Well?”

  “I’ll have to be.” She zipped the bag shut, then looked up to find him studying her. “It won’t be easy, though. Since Ryan disappeared, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I’m around Mom.”

  “But you two were always so close.”

  “A lot of things changed after that night.” She rubbed the top of her bandaged hand. “Mom was so unemotional through it all. And she practically agreed with Sheriff Carter that Ryan could have killed Mary Jo since the two of them had an on-again, off-again relationship, and Mary Jo knew how to push Ryan’s buttons.”

  “Your mom actually said she thought Ryan killed Mary Jo?”

  Emma stilled her hand. “Not in those words. But Mom always called a spade a spade. I think she was prepared for the worst.”

  “She and your dad had been through a lot with Ryan.”

  “Yeah, and she sees everything as black or white.”

  His forehead wrinkled in a frown. “But she hired a private investigator to find him.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Mom’s a lawyer . . . what if she wanted to find him and bring him back to defend himself? She would have stood by him, but she also wanted to get rid of the cloud hanging over him.”

  “Have you talked to her about the way you feel?”

  “Are you kidding? Did you forget I’m the kid who never rocked the boat? I’m not sure how to approach her about it, anyway. My mother isn’t the kind of person you disagree with. I learned that when I was a kid.” She checked her watch. “Uh, we need to go or I’ll be late.”

  Sam pulled out into traffic. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

  “No. He’s coming to supper tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll talk to him then.”

  A few minutes later they pulled up to the gated entrance. “Nice place,” Sam said. “I always liked this area of Jackson.”

  “Me too, especially Fondren after 5.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Block part
ies—first Thursday night of the month from April to October. It’s a blast,” she said and gave him the code to get in. “And it’ll be the same coming out.”

  He parked in front of her mom’s condo. “Want me to come in with you?”

  “Not tonight. I don’t know what kind of mood Mom is in since I’ve asked for the investigator’s report. I’d hate for you to walk into a hornet’s nest.” Or for her mom to quiz him about his intentions.

  “Gotcha.” He put the SUV in park and hopped out to come around and get her door.

  “Thanks. I’ll call you from the restaurant and let you know when I’m ready to leave. You know where Ricco’s is, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  When she reached her mom’s door and looked back, he still stood at her side of the car, and she waved. It would invite too many questions if her mother knew that Sam had brought her, so Emma waited until he drove away before she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. And waited. She’d lifted her hand to ring it again when her mom opened the door.

  “Good, you’re on time,” she said, checking her watch.

  “I figured you had reservations, and I didn’t want to be late,” she said.

  “Come in while I grab my purse and cell phone.” She paused at the hallway. “How is your hand?”

  “Healing, I hope.” She closed the front door behind her as her mother disappeared down the hall. When she returned, Emma said, “You look good.”

  Why couldn’t she have inherited her mom’s height? With her looks and five-ten frame, she could have easily been a model. Maybe she’d gotten her mother’s youthful genes, though. More than once they’d been mistaken for sisters, which made her mom feel good. Emma not so much.

  “Thank you. You look nice as well, but are you certain you’re not in pain?” her mom asked.

  “Yes. I took something on the way.”

  “Then why are you frowning?”

  “Sorry. I have a lot going on.” Emma felt like she was on the witness stand, and with an imaginary brush, she swept away her thoughts and used the same brush to mentally smooth her countenance. She spied a large envelope on the kitchen table as she followed her mom to the back door. “Is this the private investigator’s report?”