“But I—” she tried, but he shook his head, no sign of the Mark she’d known for twenty years, only the police officer he was trained to be. The look in her eyes revealed she understood. She grabbed her purse and allowed him to escort her to her car after she deactivated the security system.
Mark watched the front entrance as he waited for Mrs. Davis to drive away. Once he saw out of his peripherals that she was gone, he returned to the library and reset the alarm.
“Okay!” Mark shouted inside the cavernous construction. “It’s just you and me, and of course, my entire team will be here in a few minutes. So if you don’t want some rookie cop with an itchy trigger finger gunning you down, I suggest you come out now.” He waited a few seconds, listening for any sounds of life—or death for that matter. Nothing. “Have it your way.” Mark ambled toward the reference room.
As Mrs. Davis had said, the place was worse than it had been yesterday. The microfilm cabinet he’d planned to go through today was empty, its contents spread across the entire room. He’d been wrong. Someone hadn’t left that particular section for him; they’d just failed to get to it, it seemed.
Not knowing where to start, Mark sat down and waited for Roland and Anna to arrive. Since there wasn’t a lot of crime in Edenbury, the forensic team consisted of only two people. Well, there didn’t used to be. Most of the city’s cases were burglaries, with assaults, thefts, robberies, and auto thefts vying for second place. Rape and murder were practically nonexistent. An attempted murder and actual murder in six months in a town with less than seventy thousand people was too high.
“10-23, Waters,” Townsend’s voice shrilled over the radio, announcing he was ‘on scene’.
“10-4.” Mark laughed as he headed toward the entry and deactivated the security code. Ever since he was a rookie, the other officers made sure Mark knew they’d arrived. Pull a gun on a cop once and they never forget it, it seemed.
Townsend happened to be his FTO at the time, so the entire department heard about Mark pulling his gun on his field-training officer in the middle of a search of The Depot at three o’clock in the morning. Oh, well, no one had ever snuck up on him again or played practical jokes as they did with the other officers. Nope. They’d figured him for a loaded gun, cocked and ready to explode. It wasn’t true, but he’d let them go ahead and think it. After all, his father had been murdered, and his half-sister was awaiting trial for several offenses, so there was slight merit, he guessed.
Mark opened the front entrance door to Townsend, Roland, and then Anna, who breezed by him smelling like summer honeydew. What the heck was it with all the redheads in his life?
“Hi, Mark,” she drawled in her soft southern manner. She’d moved to Pennsylvania about eight months ago, after finishing her degree in Columbia, South Carolina. He’d been interested in her the first couple of months, before he’d met Ashlyn, but he’d never made a move because he’d screwed up royally once before by dating one of the police department’s dispatchers.
He’d always been smart enough not to date women he worked with. But they’d hooked up unexpectedly at a party one night, and then it’d been impossible just to walk away. Thankfully, after he’d finally ended the relationship, the dispatcher moved to Florida. They were doomed from the start, as they had nothing in common. So he’d ignored his attraction to Anna and her constant flirting, and thank goodness he had, or he wouldn’t have met Ashlyn, and she was better than all the women he’d dated combined.
Mark instructed the uniformed officers who’d arrived on scene to monitor the front and rear exits, then directed Roland and Anna to Mrs. Davis’ office while Townsend and he did a thorough search of the building. They took turns blocking exits while the other cleared each section of the enormous building.
After twenty minutes, it was clear that the intruder had already left the premises. So either Mrs. Davis had been wrong and hadn’t seen anyone as they made their getaway after she’d locked them in all night, or someone had a key to the building and the code to the alarm. Mark would make sure she changed both today.
Once Mark deemed the building clear, he gestured that the library was all theirs. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for, guys, but I’d guess it’s in the reference section. Follow me.”
Mark led them to the large room at the end of the building, feeling a chill ripple through him as he stepped over the threshold.
“It looks like a twister touched down in here,” Roland thundered. “What do you think we’re looking for?”
Mark shrugged. “Not a clue, nor does Mrs. Davis. Though, she thinks it might be land developers looking for anything that would make the zoning or permitting illegal. Said that before the library was registered as a historical landmark, there’d been interest in demolishing it to make way for commercial property.”
“Sounds about right,” Anna cut in softly, her topaz eyes sparkling in the scattered light. “Most developers don’t care about classic buildings like these, even though they try to imitate them. It’s easier to knock them down and start from scratch, so they meet code.”
Mark, Roland, and Townsend all turned to Anna at the same time, as if wondering where she’d come up with this information. The woman rarely spoke two words unless it involved actual ‘bag worthy’ evidence.
Anna shrugged. “My father owns a construction company. Although he loves old buildings and trees, he admits that more often than not it’s easier to start from scratch. But I doubt seriously that even if they found something that wasn’t up to code, it would change the library’s ‘historical landmark’ status. After all, few old buildings are up to code. So as long as no remodeling is involved, that is hardly an issue.”
Roland waved his hand around the room. “And yet, it’s obvious, someone is looking for something. Kids have no reason to do this. And if I were a kid, why would I come back a second night? Why not trash other parts of the library? Why wouldn’t they mess with something expensive like the computers up front if they really wanted to cause property damage?”
Mark nodded. “Good point, Roland,” he offered, then glanced at Townsend. “Any thoughts?”
Tim rubbed his thumb and index finger down both sides of his mustache, ending at the bottom of his mouth. “Maybe they left something in a reference book but can’t remember which one it is.”
So as not to appear condescending, Mark held his comment at bay and just nodded. Tim didn’t need to hear that was an excellent point; he’d been a damn good detective back in the day. He’d even been an invaluable training officer. Mark had learned a lot from him. He’d just been passed up for promotions because of his lackadaisical attitude and personal issues. “I think you’re right, Townsend.” Mark cocked his head to Roland. “Not sure what you’re looking for, but bag anything you find. We’ll take turns watching your back so you can work. This place is still large enough that someone could be hiding.”
Roland walked off shaking his head, obviously overwhelmed at the task in front of him. He got paid whether he sat behind a desk or rummaged through dusty books, so Mark was certain he’d rather have his feet propped up while he tapped away on his smart phone.
Anna offered Mark a hint of a smile, then followed her superior to the first cleared shelves of books.
Mark really needed to clear the air with her, let her know he had no interest. At the same time, though, if she was just being nice, he’d feel like an idiot. The difference between men and women, it seemed. Women could flirt all they wanted and then claim innocence. But if a man flirted with a woman who wasn’t interested, she could shoot him down whether it was innocent flirting or not and even claim workplace harassment if she wanted.
Anna’s smiles were innocent enough. He just hated the smug look on Tim’s face that asked without words if he was going to follow through on Anna’s flirtatious actions, knowing how Ashlyn would feel if it ever got back to her. Tim’s suggestion that Mark take up with every pretty girl they came across was irritating. Surprisingly enough he hadn�
��t made comments about Jay the librarian yet. Mark could only imagine what Townsend would say once he realized Mark had met her.
A rap at the front entrance interrupted whatever Tim had planned to say, and Mark was grateful, but still confused, knowing it was Captain Davis. Mark opened the door, and Davis strolled in, heading directly to the reference area.
“Waters,” Captain called over his shoulder, “you and Townsend start running down leads. I’ll hang out with Roland and Anna and see what they come up with.”
Mark stood at the entrance speechless. He certainly couldn’t question a direct order, even though he wanted to. And yes, he’d be bored to tears sitting around all day as forensics bagged evidence. And sure, he could do a lot more good questioning potential witnesses. But since when did Davis start showing up at crime scenes and taking over his investigation?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Captain Andrew Davis took his last deep breath before opening the door that led to the morgue. As usual, the room was cold and dreary. As many times as he’d been here over the years, it was amazing that he hadn’t gotten used to it.
The M.E., Rick Cooper, glanced up when he tapped on the doorframe. “Captain, come on in. Still no ID, but I got your John Doe cleaned up, so at least we can get some images without the dirt-covered face and beard. Maybe a relative will step forward, since he has no teeth and no fingerprints.”
Andrew glanced down at the lifeless body of the man the police had been hunting for twenty-eight years, the man he’d recognize no matter how bedraggled and filthy he’d made himself.
He had only been on the force a couple of years when he’d worked the double-homicide scene. He’d been the first officer on scene, since he’d been patrolling the neighborhood—Jessica’s neighborhood.
Andrew stepped away from the table, hoping to catch even the slightest amount of fresh air before speaking. “No need. Name’s Wade Buchanan; his friends called him Buck.” Andrew shook his head. Wade hadn’t given Wilson Waters a chance to clear him. Instead, he’d disappeared without a trace. There’d been talk back then that Wade had just settled a huge business deal and had skipped town with the money. Though that theory hadn’t gone over well with Detective Wilson Waters as motive for murdering his beautiful wife and daughter, it was the only conclusion the department and the general public were left with.
When Andrew was a teenager, he’d liked Wade. He’d even looked forward to the man becoming his father-in-law someday. Until his daughter had broken up with him because she was going away to college, that is. Andrew had insisted that he’d wait for Jessica. But when she’d returned home for spring break the next year, she was on the arm of Gregory. He and Gregory had gotten along okay in school, but he’d turned into a pompous ass their senior year. He’d even broken up with Laura Allan, the prettiest girl in school, even though they’d been dating for several years.
Andrew had never told Mark Waters that he’d had a crush on Ashlyn’s mother in high school. All the guys had. After all, she’d been crowned Homecoming and Prom Queen. Not that he stood a chance of competing with Gregory’s wealth and stature. But then, Gregory had broken it off with her, and she’d turned into a real bitch. Then Gregory comes back and moves in on his girl, Jessica, who actually looked a lot like Laura.
Jessica Buchanan had been working at the library the summer before she was going off for her graduate degree, and he’d just been a lowly cop. He’d still been in love with her and would have taken her back in a heartbeat, but he’d caught wind that she was going to marry Gregory.
The most ironic occurrence was that Andrew had met his wife while working the case. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why Margaret hadn’t mentioned Wade’s name the other day when she found him at the Library. No way she hadn’t recognized Wade. And she’d known that he’d dated Wade’s daughter and that the man had been wanted for murder for twenty-eight years. So why wouldn’t she have said anything? Did she still think he was that upset with Wade Buchanan, or had his wife had another reason for not admitting she’d recognized the man who tried to demolish her beloved library twenty-eight years ago?
CHAPTER NINE
Ashlyn pushed the peas around her plate. She hated peas, especially faded and tasteless canned peas that looked more like round lima beans, which she also hated. She’d told her mother she wasn’t hungry, but she’d forced the food on her anyway. If her mother cooked anything like her grandmother, she probably wouldn’t have minded. Her mother hadn’t inherited that gene or any of her grandmother’s genetics as far as Ashlyn could tell. Nor her grandfather’s for that matter.
Though Ashlyn was young when her grandfather had died, she remembered that he’d always been kind and sweet to her. And he always smelled like peppermint. A smile inched its way up her cheek at the memory. One of the few times he’d been well enough to play with her, he’d been chasing her around the house. But she’d stopped abruptly when she heard him wheeze, thinking he might have hurt his heart, as her grandmother had always reminded him not to do.
Ashlyn had never had a father figure, so she’d appreciated every minute she had with him and was just as happy curling up beside him as he worked crossword puzzles.
“What’s funny, dear?” Her mother’s voice snapped her from her happy memories of her grandparents.
Ashlyn shook her head, not wanting to explain that she was appreciating one of the few cheerful times of her childhood.
Her mother dropped her fork on her plate, the clink so loud that Ashlyn would be surprised not to find a chip in her grandmother’s fine china. “Why must you shut me out of everything, Ashlyn?”
Ashlyn couldn’t have suppressed the sigh if she tried, so she released it at the same time she rested her fork gently on her napkin, and then glared up at her mother. She released another breath that ended up coming out like a chuckle. Though clearly, there was no humor in her. “Me, shut you out?” She wiped her mouth and pushed her plate away. “That’s rich, Mom, considering you shut me out of your emotions years ago.”
Ashlyn scooted her chair across the hardwood floor, hoping she didn’t leave a gouge, and used the table as support to push her body to a standing position. Getting vertical was a difficult task these days with her belly feeling as though she were carrying around a sack of potatoes.
Once standing, she leaned against the table and addressed her mother again, “When have you ever asked me how I felt?” Feeling a tear threaten to escape, she lifted her chin and sucked in a breath. “You know…every time I see pregnant women in pictures and movies, I always see their family around them, touching their belly, smiling, looking at silly ultrasound photos, even if they can’t make out heads or tails of the black and white grainy photos. But you, nothing! You haven’t even asked me if I found out if the baby is a boy or girl, or when my due date is. So don’t try to say I shut you out.”
Ashlyn barely felt finished, thinking she could go on for days, but knew it wasn’t healthy for the baby, so she sucked in one final breath, determined to finish and go to bed. “You’ve never cared about me. I’ve been nothing but an inconvenience to you.”
Her mother leapt to her feet. “That’s not true!” She’d always been in tiptop shape. At fifty-one, she could easily still pass for her forties. “Do you know how hard it was being a single mother?”
Ashlyn couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “No, Mom. Funny, I don’t think you’ve ever told me how hard it was to be a single mother. You mean the fact that you lost an acting job, or that you drove your husband to the grave, or the million-dollar insurance policy you got, or the daughter who allowed you to drag her around from one beauty pageant to another for years, or the time your daughter was ungrateful and asked that you stop.” Ashlyn crossed her arms and glowered at her. “Oh, I know, it was the slew of men you had to entertain overnight for years. Some of which made passes at me when I was only thirteen, the reason I no longer wanted to be your dress-up doll. So, which one of those was hardest on you, Mom?”
Her moth
er let out a long sigh and sat back down, shaking her head. “You have no idea, Ashlyn.”
“No. I guess I don’t.” Ashlyn turned to leave, deciding she’d pack up and go home first thing in the morning. Yes, she loved the house and the memory of her grandparents. But as long as her mother was here, it wasn’t a good environment for her.
“Wait.”
Ashlyn stopped, even though she didn’t want to. She was still her mother, as her aunt always reminded her, and she was to treat her mother respectfully. No, she didn’t have to take her verbal attacks, but she had no right to attack back. It takes two, her aunt had always lovingly reminded her.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know I haven’t been open with you, but that’s because I’ve been hurt too. I just didn’t want to tell you, but maybe I should have.”
“Now?” Ashlyn groaned. She should have known that she couldn’t have said anything without her mother trying to one-up her. Far as she knew, no one had ever attacked her mother and left her for dead. What could be worse than that? She was sure her mother would come up with some outlandish story if she let her. “I’m too tired, Mom.”
Her mother shook her head, a small smile cracking her perfectly made-up face. “I remember those days. I felt like a hippo when I was pregnant with you. I’d been so careful not to gain weight, but it didn’t matter; I just kept growing and growing.”
Ashlyn stepped back a few steps and lowered herself onto the Waverly-fabric covered sofa, letting her mother know without speaking that she welcomed this conversation. Not once in her twenty-three years had her mother ever mentioned anything loving or funny about her pregnancy. Just that she’d lost a great movie role.
Her mother sat in the chair across from her. “When you were born, I was surprised that you were so small. How could you be so tiny when I gained almost forty pounds?”
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