Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

  “It’s a free country, but unless you’re buying something, I don’t have time to chew the fat,” he said as a petite waitress appeared.

  “You have fountain drinks?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “A Coke, then.”

  “That all?”

  “Yep.”

  Shaw eyed him suspiciously as Sam took the chair opposite him. “You a cop?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Now, either you are or you ain’t. Which is it?” Shaw asked and stuck the cigar back in his mouth.

  “I’m a ranger for the Natchez Trace Park Service.”

  “Same thing. What do you want?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions about something that happened ten years ago.”

  Shaw appeared to work that over in his mind. “Go on.”

  “Mary Jo Selby and Ryan Winters. Those names ring a bell?”

  He chewed on the cigar. “The Winters guy was accused of killing the Selby girl.”

  Sam nodded. “And they were here at your establishment the night she died. Do you remember that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Carter almost shut me down over that.”

  “Care to talk about it?”

  “Not much to talk about.”

  “Could you tell me what you remember?”

  “My memory is kind of fuzzy. You know how it is with old folks. Of course, I’ve heard green stuff helps memory.”

  Sam had maybe a hundred dollars on him. A hundred dollars he wouldn’t be reimbursed for if he gave it to the bar owner, but if it got him answers, it would be worth it. “Do you suppose a hundred greenbacks would help your memory?”

  Shaw leaned forward. “I think it might indeed.”

  Sam took five twenties from his billfold and laid them on the table. Shaw reached for the bills. “Not yet,” Sam said, pulling the money closer to him. “Let’s hear what you remember first, and I’ll decide if it’s worth the money.”

  Shaw sat back against his chair. “Mary Jo came here often, sometimes with somebody, sometimes by herself, but she always left with a man. That night was no exception, except she left with three men that night.”

  “Three?” Carter’s report only mentioned one—Ryan.

  The older man nodded. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Sheriff Carter. She left with that Winters guy and Doc Cole’s boy . . . and the sheriff’s son. Funny thing is, I never heard anything about her leaving with anyone but the Winters kid.”

  And that was the only person mentioned in Carter’s report. “Do you know if there was an FBI investigation?”

  “If there was, nobody from the FBI came around here.”

  First thing in the morning, Sam would check with the FBI office in Jackson and see if an agent had investigated Mary Jo’s death. “Carter’s report mentioned a witness who saw Mary Jo leave with Ryan Winters. Do you know who that witness might be?”

  “Carter fabricated the story he wanted told, and I always figured the sheriff made the witness up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell someone that Carter wasn’t telling the whole truth?”

  “Didn’t want no deputy sitting a quarter of a mile from my establishment pulling my customers over and giving them a hard time.” Shaw leaned back in his chair, his arms barely reaching across his belly. “One week of that and my business would have tanked.”

  “Is that what he threatened you with?”

  The cigar bobbed up and down as Shaw chewed on it. “Let’s just say he laid the scenario out for me. Besides, he’d already tried and convicted that Winters kid of the crime. Sure was handy that the kid never was heard from again.”

  “You think the sheriff could have killed him? Or covered up for the murderer?”

  The music slid into another slow dance song. “I never said that, but I’m sure the sheriff and his son were real happy Winters never showed his face around here again.”

  It didn’t take a genius to know the sheriff hadn’t wanted Trey involved in the investigation. “Did Mary Jo come with anyone that night?”

  A look that could have passed for sadness on anyone else crossed Shaw’s face. “That gal was a pretty little thing,” he said. “Shame that she died like that.” Then he seemed to remember Sam’s question. “You were asking if she came with anybody?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought. She did come with someone, but don’t ask me who ’cause I couldn’t tell you if my life depended on it. Never saw him before or after, but she was right friendly with him when they first came in. Then those four college boys came in, and Mary Jo and her date had a spat, and she left him high and dry, started flirting with the Winters kid. The guy she came with just disappeared. Figured he must’ve left right after their little fight.”

  Sam had been one of the four. “Could you describe the boyfriend?”

  “Are you kidding? Like you said, it’s been ten years. I can’t remember what my sainted sister looks like, and she’s just been gone five.”

  The music slid into a loud, fast dance song that made his head hurt. Sam took out a business card and wrote his cell number on the back. “If you remember anything else, doesn’t matter how insignificant, give me a call.”

  He stood and held out the hundred dollars. Shaw looked at it, then shook his head. “Keep your money, son. Just find out who killed that girl.”

  44

  Sam hadn’t even attempted to kiss her goodbye last night. Relationships were hard. Maybe too hard. Even so, Emma’s heart kicked up a notch at the thought of seeing him later today.

  Emma slipped a sweater over her head, glad she didn’t have to button a shirt today. Until the accident, she’d had no idea how difficult it was to use only her nondominant hand to complete the simplest tasks.

  A quick glance at the floor-length mirror assured her the sweater was long enough to come to a respectable length over her leggings. With her left hand, she pulled her curls away from her face and snapped them in a barrette. At least she was getting better at that. The gray tabby wound around her legs, and she scooped the wiggly kitty up.

  “I look like an elf, Suzy,” she said as the cat jumped back to the floor. Or a kid. Her mother would be aghast if she saw her. Too bad Emma hadn’t considered the effect before she went to the trouble of pulling the leggings on.

  The clothes would do for a visit to the vet. In the living room, she opened the door to the small carrier Sam had brought up before he left last night, and Suzy circled it, then investigated inside. Good, it shouldn’t be a problem getting her in it.

  Emma googled the closest veterinarian office and dialed the number shown. When the receptionist answered, she gave Emma an appointment for nine forty-five. The phone rang just as she ended the call, and she almost dropped the phone. Corey? “Hello?”

  “Just in case your caller ID didn’t work, this is Corey Chandler,” he said. “I trust that you’re well.”

  The warmth in his voice was like a hug. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m calling to see if we can get together and discuss the project at Mount Locust.”

  Emma winced. She’d totally forgotten he’d said they needed to get together. “I’m pretty busy all day . . .”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of dinner at the Guest House this evening, say sixish? And if not tonight, maybe tomorrow night?”

  While she didn’t have anything planned for tonight, Sam’s comment about Corey’s interest in her popped into her mind, making her hesitate. She liked him fine—for a friend—and didn’t want to lead him on. But then again, Sam could be completely wrong. Emma had certainly never noticed any interest. At least she hadn’t until he brought it up.

  “Tonight will be fine,” she said, deciding she might as well get it over with. Maybe while they ate dinner, she could get him to reveal the person who was trying to stop the project. At the very least, she could plead her case and show him her passion for the work.


  “Great. I’ll pick you up at five forty-five?”

  “Looking forward to it.” Emma disconnected. Somehow she didn’t think Sam would be happy about this dinner, but she had little time to think about telling him when her phone rang again, this time Sam.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “My, you’re chipper this morning,” he said.

  “Probably from not having to button a shirt,” she said with a laugh. “Or worry about cooking tonight.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Corey just invited me to dinner at the Guest House.”

  “And you said yes?”

  “I did. I would like to resolve the issue of surveying the cabins and cemetery.”

  “Want me to tag along?”

  “I, ah, don’t think he invited you.”

  “Well, just be careful. We still don’t know who’s stalking you.”

  “I should be safe enough with Corey Chandler—he is an attorney.”

  “So was Ted Bundy.”

  “No, I don’t think Bundy ever earned a law degree,” she said. “Have you checked on the ring?”

  “I did, and both the university and the ring company said they would get back to me,” he said. “I also talked to the FBI office in Jackson. They didn’t investigate Mary Jo’s death.”

  “Why not?”

  “They rarely get involved in a local murder unless there’s a compelling reason, and Carter convinced them he had it under control,” he said. “What time are you taking your cat to the vet?”

  “Nine forty-five, but why don’t I take an Uber and free you up?”

  “There’s no need for that. I took the morning off so I could take you. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out and about by yourself until we catch whoever is stalking you.”

  “You can’t go everywhere with me. Besides, so far he hasn’t attacked me during the day.”

  “Doesn’t mean he won’t. I’ll pick you up at nine thirty.”

  “Yes, sir.” Emma was relieved she didn’t have to arrange for different transportation. An Uber might not like having a cat for a passenger.

  At ten thirty, the vet visit was behind them, and the vet had confirmed that Suzy was indeed a female and about three months old. When they returned to the apartment, Sam installed a new doorbell that included a camera. “Now you should be able to see and record anyone who rings your doorbell.”

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, then asked, “Are we going to interview the Selbys today?”

  “I am, but you’re not.”

  “Why not? I have a vested interest in this.”

  He crossed his arms. “You’re not in law enforcement.”

  “But I have a stake in this.”

  “If the Selbys believe your brother killed their daughter, they may refuse to talk if you’re with me.”

  Emma considered that and tried to recall how much contact she’d had with Mary Jo’s parents. The only time she’d met them was at their daughter’s funeral, and she doubted they even noticed her. “Maybe they won’t remember me, and if you don’t tell them my last name . . .”

  “That would be lying.”

  “No, it would be misdirection. Cops do it all the time on TV.”

  “Come on, Emma, this isn’t some TV show. They’ll know who you are anyway—you and Mary Jo were in the same class.”

  “But Mary Jo and I never hung out together—she was part of the ‘in’ crowd, and I wasn’t, and I played volleyball and she played basketball. She was a cheerleader and played in the band, and I did neither—we didn’t interact that much . . .” Sam was not leaving her out of the visit to the Selbys. Emma fisted her good hand on her hip. “With or without you, I’m going to talk to the Selbys,” she said and walked to the hallway.

  “Where are you going?”

  She lifted her chin. “To change into my uniform.”

  When he tried to stare her down, she refused to look away. Finally, he palmed his hands. “Okay. But it’s just this one time. After this, you’ll leave the investigating to me.”

  Emma didn’t know about that. She let the comment slide and hurried to her bedroom, where she struggled out of the leggings and into her uniform. The brace made buttoning the shirt almost impossible. Gritting her teeth, she ripped the brace off and buttoned her shirt, the movement sending pain up her arm. Why didn’t they use snaps instead of buttons? Once she was dressed, she returned to the living room and held out the wrist contraption. “Would you mind?”

  Without commenting, he leaned in close and wrapped it around her hand. His nearness and the heady scent of his aftershave sent her heart into overdrive.

  “I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he said softly as he attached the Velcro.

  “I’ll be with you,” she said. “Besides, how could talking to an older couple be dangerous?”

  45

  Sam tested the snugness of the splint, his fingers lingering on hers. When he looked up, the warmth in her green eyes caught him by surprise. Desire to wrap Emma in his arms blindsided him. How quickly things changed. He’d gone from swearing to never give her the power to hurt him again to practically handing his heart over with a red bow tied around it. She pulled her hand away, breaking the spell.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Have you contacted the Selbys?”

  “Actually, I thought it’d be better to drop in without letting them know we’re coming.” He didn’t like letting Emma tag along, but if he didn’t, there was no doubt in his mind she would investigate on her own. At least this way, he had some control. “But first, you have to promise you won’t nose around in this investigation on your own.” When she hesitated, he said, “The deal is off, then.”

  She held up her left hand. “Okay, I won’t investigate on my own.”

  “Is that a promise?” Emma always kept her promises.

  “Yes,” she grumbled.

  “If you’re ready, then . . .”

  She picked Suzy up and hugged her. “I’ll be back, and I don’t want my curtains shredded while I’m gone. Got it?”

  He smiled. “Are we talking to animals now?”

  “We aren’t talking to anyone. I am. And I don’t get any flack back from her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He opened her door just as her neighbor unlocked his. Sam tried to place the name.

  “Good morning, Greg,” Emma said.

  Sam remembered now. Gregory Hart.

  “Good morning.” He eyed the two of them. “Isn’t this your day off?”

  Emma glanced down at her uniform. “It was, but you know how it is.”

  “Yeah. Your time is never your own. Well, have a good day,” he said and disappeared into his apartment.

  Okay, Hart knew when Emma worked and when she didn’t. Interesting. “Does he always keep up with you?”

  “I wasn’t even aware he knew my days off, although it wouldn’t be hard to figure out.”

  She started down the stairs and he said, “Let me go first.”

  “What? So you can stop my fall?”

  “Something like that.” Once they were on the ground floor, he said, “Wait here.”

  Sam stepped out on the porch, scanned the area, and then checked the street in front of the apartment, noting that the Natchez PD hadn’t installed the license plate readers yet. He would call Nate and see if the readers had been delivered to the police department. Then he scanned the neighborhood again, and everything looked normal. He stepped back inside and said, “All clear.”

  The Selbys lived just outside of Natchez, and a few minutes later they drove to Highway 61 and turned south.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t call them and make sure they’re home?” Emma asked. Her tone made it evident she didn’t think just dropping in was a good idea.

  “Trust me, I’ve done this before.”

  “I hope they know something that will help us.”

  “I keep telling you there’s no ‘us.’” He stopped at a traffic lig
ht, and while he waited for the light to change, he glanced at her. “Why do I get the feeling you want to find Ryan’s killer by yourself?”

  “Are you kidding? We let the authorities handle it for ten years and we’re just now finding his body.”

  “You don’t trust me or Nate to solve this?”

  “I do, but I want to help.” She turned toward the side window. “Do you ever wish you could go back and change something that happened when you were a kid?”

  “All the time,” he said, thinking about when his sister chased a ball in front of a car because he wasn’t watching her. A horn tapped behind him, and he glanced at the light and quickly gunned the motor. “What would you change?”

  She picked at her thumbnail. “I wouldn’t let Ryan take the blame for me when I dented Mom’s car.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emma sighed. “I knew as a little girl that there was a certain structure in our family. Everyone had their place, and mine was that of being the good kid. The one with the good grades, the one who always obeyed. Ryan on the other hand was the athlete, but he was rebellious and usually the one in trouble.

  “One day when we were fifteen, I took Mom’s car without asking and backed into a pole. We’d just gotten our permits and weren’t supposed to be driving without an adult in the car. When she discovered the dented bumper, she automatically blamed Ryan. I remember the hurt in his eyes, but he didn’t rat me out when I didn’t own up to taking the car. I didn’t want to lose my place as the good kid. The favorite.”

  “You really thought you were the favorite?”

  “I’m afraid I did,” she said sheepishly. “Soon after was when Ryan broke his leg and got hooked on pain meds. I’ve often wondered if I’d told the truth, would it have made a difference in the choices Ryan made? Would his life have been different?”

  “You don’t know—”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t. I know you mean well, but I can’t change the way I feel. And now that I know Ryan’s gone, I have to get justice for him.”

  Sam wished he could tell Emma the remains in the grave hadn’t been Ryan’s, but the odds were 99 to 1 that it was his body. “I’m not going to tell you I know exactly how you feel, but I know how guilt feels. My sister wouldn’t be limping today if I’d watched her like I was supposed to the day she got hit by a car.”