They walked at a leisurely pace, small-talking about the weather and Samantha and the newest member of the household as Tamara took in each store window they passed, every person who nodded and smiled as they went by.
“I’m assuming you aren’t married,” she said after they’d walked for a few minutes.
“You’ve got that right,” he replied.
“What about a significant other?”
“Nope, nobody. All I’ve had in my life for the past couple of years is work. Besides, after watching what Linda went through with her divorce from her husband, I decided for sure that I never wanted to get married.”
“Bad divorce?”
“Terrible,” he replied. “I didn’t like her husband, Mark, when they married and I liked him a hell of a lot less by the time the divorce was finalized.”
“Does he live here in town?” she asked.
“Two blocks away from Linda.” He drew a deep sigh. “As much as I find him an arrogant, controlling ass, I have to give him props for being a good father to Samantha. She spends most of her weekends at his place and she adores him.”
“That’s important. Girls need their fathers in their lives.” She frowned. “But you shouldn’t allow your sister’s experience to deter you from having a family. I’ve seen how you are with Samantha and you’d make a great dad.”
He laughed, a deep, full-bodied sound that swept pleasurable warmth through her. “It’s easy to be a favorite uncle, but I’m not so sure that I’d be good dad material, and in any case it doesn’t matter. I have no intention of ever getting married.”
“I wonder why I got divorced?” Tamara asked, although she knew he had no answer. She found it difficult to imagine herself a married lady, but then she found it impossible to know exactly what kind of a woman she’d been before Seth had dug her out of the sand.
“Hopefully you’ll know soon,” Seth replied.
Although he said it easily, Tamara felt the pressure to remember, the need to help him find the person who had already killed two women and had tried to kill her, a man who could at any moment decide to claim another victim.
“How about an early lunch?” Seth suggested when they reached the Amber Lake Café.
“Sure,” she agreed.
As they walked into the front door of the restaurant a jingle of wind chimes sounded and Tamara had a visceral sense of déjà vu.
She said nothing as she followed Seth to a booth and slid across from him. The chimes sounded familiar, like a musical echo in the very back of her brain. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.
She might have heard the same kind of wind chimes in another place, she might even possess some herself in her apartment in Amarillo. A single noise wasn’t enough to indicate that at some point in the past she’d visited this particular café.
“Hey, folks,” a blonde waitress with a name tag that read Lucy greeted them, with two menus. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“I’d like a diet cola,” Tamara said.
“And a glass of iced tea for me,” Seth replied.
“Be back in a jiffy,” Lucy said as she left their booth.
Tamara opened her menu and made her decision, then looked at Seth as a thought occurred to her. “Since we know who I am and where I live is it possible I can access my bank account and get out some cash?”
“I don’t see how that can be done without us driving into your bank branch and somehow explaining the situation to them. You don’t have a bank card and I’m assuming you wouldn’t know your pin number. Is there something you need?”
“A loan?” she ventured. She felt the warmth of a blush fill her cheeks. “I’d like to buy some clothes for myself instead of borrowing everything from Samantha. I’d just feel better if I had a few things to call my own.”
“I should have realized how difficult it has been for you.” Seth smiled at her. “Just tell me how much you want and I’ll get it for you when we pass by the bank.”
“Maybe a hundred dollars?” she said tentatively.
“We’ll make it two hundred and if you need more than that I want you to come to me.” He leaned forward across the table, his eyes like a gray bank of calming fog. “And it’s not a loan. We’ll consider it living expenses for a material witness in a murder investigation.”
“A material witness who can’t remember anything,” Tamara said dispiritedly.
At that moment the waitress returned with their drinks and they placed their orders. “So, I guess if we’re going to small-talk over lunch we’re going to have to talk about me,” Seth said teasingly.
“Actually, I’d like that topic of conversation,” she replied lightly. “You can tell me all about your work for the FBI and about your life in Kansas City.”
“I don’t have a life in Kansas City,” he said drily, “but I love talking about my work.”
And he did. While she ate a club sandwich and he wolfed down a double cheeseburger he talked about the cases he’d worked in the past and the evil he’d seen over the years working as a profiler.
Tamara found everything about him fascinating, from what he did for a living to the way the left corner of his mouth moved upward to begin one of his sexy smiles. She found it fascinating the way his eyes went from soft dove-gray when he talked about things he cared about to a cold steel color when he spoke of things he didn’t like.
It would be easy for her to develop a little bit of a crush on FBI Special Agent Seth Hawkins, even though she knew it would also be foolish.
For all she knew there was a man somewhere in Texas worried sick about her, a man who loved her, a man she loved to distraction. But, if there was such a man, then why couldn’t she even remember him? And why wasn’t he looking for her? Surely she would have some sense of loving...of being loved.
Why when she tried to remember her former life, before the sand dunes, before Amber Lake, did a tight squeeze of anxiety grip her stomach? Had she fled her apartment in Amarillo because of something bad? Because of something sad?
She was attracted to Seth but when she looked into his eyes she not only saw a man’s attraction, but also an FBI agent’s need...the need for answers she didn’t have at this time.
As they finished up the meal she once again cast her gaze around the café. It was like a hundred cafés that the Midwest sported, homey and warm and filled with people who had grown up together, who were friends and neighbors and gathered here on a regular basis.
Hanging on the wall behind the counter was a large picture of a piece of pie with the caption Enjoy A Piece of Amber Lake Café’s Famous Caramel Pie.
Sparks shot off in her head. She remembered that sign, and she’d had a piece of that pie. Her mouth filled with the solid memory of the flaky crust, of the gooey richness of caramel.
“I’ve been here.” The words whispered out of her as she turned to stare at Seth. “I’ve eaten here before,” she exclaimed as a wave of excitement washed over her.
“Are you sure?” Seth sat up straighter in his seat, his gaze intense as it held hers.
She leaned back against her seat and once again stared at the sign advertising the pie and as she did snippets of memories snaked through her head. “A plump waitress, a chicken salad sandwich, the shadows of twilight filtering in through the front windows and a piece of caramel pie and coffee for dessert,” she said softly. “I was definitely here.”
“Twilight, that means you were probably here for dinner.” Seth’s voice brought her out of the kaleidoscope of flashing snippets of memories.
“The plump waitress was a redhead. She served me,” she replied, once again looking around the café for a flame-haired waitress. She pointed to a woman working the other side of the café. “I think that’s her.”
Seth shot out of the booth and approached the waitress. Tamara could see the energy that wafted from him, felt the energy drumming inside her own veins. Remembering eating a piece of pie wasn’t much, bu
t it was something and gave her the hope that more would follow.
Seth returned to the booth with the waitress, who wore a name tag that read Annie. She smiled at Tamara and shoved a strand of her crimson hair behind one ear. “Sure, I remember her,” she said. “She was in for dinner Monday night and I waited on her.”
“Was she alone?” Seth asked.
“Ate alone, left alone,” the waitress replied.
“Did I mention where I was going, what I was doing here in town?” Tamara asked.
“I’ve got to be honest with you, hon. I don’t remember making any small talk with you. You ordered. I brought your food and that was it. Sorry I can’t be more helpful, and now I’ve got to get back to my customers.” With an apologetic smile she hurried back to her side of the café.
Seth sank back down in the booth, his eyes bright with hope. “This is good. This is very good. Maybe this is a sign that your memories are starting to break loose. Now we know you were here and ate dinner on Monday night and you were found at the dunes on Tuesday. This is the beginning of solving the puzzle, Tamara.” He reached across the table and took hold of her hand.
She clung tightly as she held eye contact with him. She had a feeling that if this was just the beginning, then she knew she’d probably have to go to hell and back as the rest of her memories returned.
Chapter Five
It was well before dawn when Seth sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee at his elbow and the files of the two murders in front of him. Sleep had been difficult and he’d finally decided to forget even trying to get up.
There were so many things about these cases that bothered him, starting with his number-one witness. Although no other memories had returned to Tamara for the rest of the day, he’d been pleased by the little bit of progress they’d made during lunch.
They’d finally returned home at dinnertime after having walked most of Main Street several times. By the time they’d gotten back here and eaten dinner Tamara had pled exhaustion and a headache and had gone to her room.
Seth had almost been grateful that she’d removed herself from his presence. He’d been far too aware of her all day, smelling her scent, watching the play of emotions that crossed her beautiful features. He’d fought a simmering desire for her all day long and had felt like he drew his first real deep breath when she went to her room.
He had to stop looking at her as an attractive female and instead stay focused on her as a potential victim and the best opportunity they had to catch a killer.
He took a sip of his coffee and studied the file containing everything about Rebecca Cook’s murder. There was no question that Sheriff Atkins and his team had had their work cut out for them investigating the young woman’s death. Most of the teenagers and young adults in town had been at the party at the dunes.
There were reams of pages of interviews contained in the file and Seth flipped through each one, unsurprised to find that the three young men who had been on the dunes the day Tamara had been uncovered had also been party attendees.
As he moved on to the file with notes and interviews and the official reports on Vicki Smith, two things caught his attention. The first was that Sam Clemmons, the young man who had been like a frozen statue at the scene with Tamara, had also been present when the other two women had been found at the dunes. What were the odds of him being there when three bodies were uncovered? He knew the sheriff had interrogated the boys after Tamara had been found, but he hadn’t seen the interview transcripts yet.
Vicki Smith had been a pretty, thirty-year-old brunette who had worked as a waitress at the Golden Daffodil and at the time of her death had been dating the owner of the restaurant, Henry Todd. Todd had been questioned but despite his intimate relationship with the victim the authorities had been unable to tie him to Vicki’s murder or find any kind of a connection between Todd and Rebecca.
The only thing all three victims had in common was dark hair. The first two victims had been natives of Amber Lake and so far it appeared that Tamara had simply been passing through.
What had happened to her between the hours when she’d had dinner in the café and the next day when she’d been found in the sand dunes? What horrors was her amnesia attempting to protect her from remembering?
Linda had spoken to him for a little while the night before about post-traumatic stress and all that it could entail for Tamara.
She’d even suggested it might be healthy for Tamara to meet with the professional the doctor had recommended to discuss her amnesia and whatever else she might be experiencing due to her trauma. Seth intended to ask Tamara this morning if she needed to see a counselor or somebody else, even though so far she’d declined.
In the meantime, he intended to pick apart each and every report and interview from the two murders and make a list of people he intended to reinterview personally.
There were only two official entrances to Deadman’s Dunes that provided a small parking area for the off-riders to park. On the day that Seth had arrived and gone to the dunes, he’d parked at the main entrance on the north side. The other way in was on the west side of the sand.
Rebecca’s body had been found almost directly in the center of the dunes, where the area was a flat run for riders to test their speed before hitting the hilly mounds again.
Vicki’s body had been found close to the west entrance and Tamara’s on the east side of the dunes. It didn’t matter what any of it meant to Seth. What he needed to find out was what the dunes meant to the killer.
At six-thirty, he got up from the table, grabbed some of his clothes from the hallway closet where he’d moved them from the guest room and then headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Minutes later as he stood beneath the shower spray his thoughts returned to Tamara. It was strange, he knew nothing about her past, nothing about the life experiences that had made her who she was, and yet he felt as if he knew a wealth of information about her just from the hours they’d spent together.
Her political beliefs jived with his, she had a wicked sense of humor that he enjoyed and there was softness to her spirit that made him want to be strong for her.
He liked the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how her eyes lit up just before a smile curved her lips.
They’d spent part of yesterday at the discount store where she bought a basketful of clothing and miscellaneous items to call her own. If you could tell a woman’s personality by the things she bought, then Tamara was definitely low maintenance.
Seth had paid for everything and she’d insisted that when she had access to her bank account again she would make it right with him.
He didn’t care if she ever paid him back. She hadn’t spent that much money and the pleasure that had ridden her features as she picked out things for herself had been worth every penny.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the awaiting towel. As he dried off he thanked the stars that he’d packed a pair of dress slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. Today he wasn’t going into the sheriff’s office as Seth Hawkins on vacation in jeans and a T-shirt, but rather as Special Agent Seth Hawkins, dressed for business. He’d already let Sheriff Atkins know that he meant business when he’d called him the night before to set up a meeting with Atkins’s team.
Dried and dressed, he clipped his badge onto his belt, added his shoulder holster and gun and then pulled on a lightweight jacket. He not only wanted the local law enforcement to know that he was ready to roll, but also everyone he interviewed that day that they were facing a professional.
He nearly yelped in surprise as he opened the bathroom door and almost ran over Tamara. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and then together they headed for the kitchen where they wouldn’t disturb the others who were still sleeping.
“You’re up early,” he said, noticing that the blue-and-white blouse she wore emphasized not only the bright blue of her eyes, but also her small waist. A pair of white shorts showcased
the length of her slender legs and Seth felt a slow burn begin in the pit of his stomach.
“I should be up early,” she replied as she headed for the coffeepot. “I went to bed at the crack of dusk last night.”
“Did you sleep well?”
She finished pouring herself a cup of the coffee and then turned to face him. “I’d love to tell you I tossed and turned with memories whirling all through my brain, but the truth is I slept hard and deep and without any dreams, at least none that I remember.”
She took a sip of her coffee and above the cup her gaze slid over him. “You look quite official this morning,” she observed as she lowered the cup from her mouth.
“I’m heading into Atkins’s office for the day. I’m meeting with his entire team and going to do some interviewing.”
“Do I need to be there?”
He shook his head. “Not today. Are you comfortable just hanging around here with Samantha and Linda? It’s Linda’s day off, so you won’t be alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“Linda has my cell number. You’ll call me if you think of anything new?”
“You mean like the name and address of the killer?” she asked wryly. “I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
He grinned at her. “Good, and I’d like to officially invite you to dinner tonight at the Golden Daffodil.”
“Is this someplace I might have been?” she asked.
“Or where someone you might have encountered is,” he replied. He watched the apprehension that raced across her features. “But it’s not all business,” he hurriedly added. “The food is supposed to be excellent there and I’d like to have you as my dinner date.”
The apprehension on her face transformed to something pretty, something half-yearning. “I’d love to be your dinner date,” she said, her cheeks with slightly more color than normal. “What time should I be ready to go?”
“Why don’t we plan on around six-thirty.” He backed toward the kitchen door. “And now, I’ve got to get out of here and down to the sheriff’s office. I’ll check in later.”
Scene of the Crime: Deadman's Bluff Page 6
