The Woman Most Wanted

by Pamela Tracy

  Tom held his phone, not to his ear but in his hand, frozen as if he couldn’t move.

  Lucas continued, “Oscar gave her the plate and she ran it. Saw his name and called you, but you didn’t pick up.”

  Tom went back and forth on his phone for a few minutes, confirming the driver’s license was Welborn’s, before finally turning his phone off, attaching it to his belt and again putting his hand on her back. “I’ll walk you over to my place, see you off. Then I need to go. I need to go to the accident scene.”

  “Richard Welborn? He’s who you were looking for the day you found me.”

  “Yes,” Tom said. “And I’m not sure I believe in such a thing as coincidence. Lucille Calloway’s funeral is tomorrow, and her killer’s in critical condition today.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHIEF TOM RILEY stood on the porch of the Welborn place at three in the morning, knocked on the door and tried to think about what he should say to Richard’s elderly mother. He’d never had much luck talking with her. At most, she’d hold the door open an inch and murmur. She must have family somewhere because she was seldom home.

  He hoped she had family as she’d need them by her side. Richard was in a coma and the prognosis wasn’t good.

  Officer Leann Bailey was at his side, ever the officer who might be able to offer a comforting word, be empathetic. He sure as heck wasn’t certain he could be empathetic given the circumstances.

  Not a single light flickered inside the Welborn place, and though they’d knocked and knocked, no one answered.

  “You suppose she’s long gone?” Leann asked. “No one’s seen her in weeks.”

  “Heather saw a light here the other day.”

  “What was she doing out here?”

  Tom had hesitated, which bothered him. Leann was a fellow police officer and one who deserved to know every detail. But Tom was starting to feel more protective of Heather than he was about the case at hand. He changed the subject. “The real question is what was Welborn doing in town. Probably visiting his mother, but then why was he leaving in the middle of the night? Why not stay until morning? Take the rural route away from town. We’d never have known he was here.”

  Leann fully engaged. “You’re right. And another thing that doesn’t make sense is why he would speed and drive recklessly. If he was trying to stay under the radar, no pun intended, he’d have been extra careful.”

  Standing there in complete darkness wasn’t getting anything accomplished, so Tom drove back by the Turners’ place. Bart’s Auto Repair and Towing already had Welborn’s wrecked car on the truck and was securing it.

  Oscar was in the street, spotlights blazing, measuring the skid marks.

  Tom waved, checked in at the hospital and went home to bed. He could do nothing else until tomorrow.

  * * *

  WEDNESDAY MORNING, when it came, started badly for Tom. He woke up at the first chirp of his alarm clock, and he’d only gotten three hours of sleep. He had a dozen things to do and limited time to do them. He really wanted to talk to Lucas about last night. And he needed to do it as an officer of the law, not as a good friend.

  Tom knew without a doubt that the woman who’d raised Heather had been Sarah Lewis. And Debbie, her mother, stepfather and the two half-brothers needed to know the truth, deal with the truth and deal with Heather. Even if she might not be related to them. There was still a mystery to solve.

  First though was Lucille Calloway’s funeral, where he’d sit in a pew and hear remembrances of a woman who’d deserved more. He’d not been able to protect Lucille, but he could still honor her.

  What really tore him up was he couldn’t even tell her family that Richard Welborn had been brought to justice because losing control of a car, smashing headfirst into a ditch and becoming comatose wasn’t justice no matter how you looked at it.

  Tom had spent too many years thinking about getting justice, so focused on it that he’d lost track of what was important.

  Lucille Calloway hadn’t been that way. She’d told him more than once that she’d forgiven the man who’d run her car off the road. And because Tom had forgotten how to forgive, he’d be at the funeral alone. No wife by his side, no hand to hold and be reassured. The thought hadn’t bothered him until he buttoned the last button of his uniform and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

  And didn’t like what he saw.

  Someone who’d forgotten what it was like to be happy.

  * * *

  HER PHONE RANG at six thirty. Opening an eye, Heather glared at the clock by the bed and then at her phone lying beside her on the mattress. She’d set the phone’s alarm to wake her up at seven. Dang, she wanted those thirty minutes. She checked the screen, noting the in-town area code. Okay, so probably not someone wanting to repair her auto glass or offer her a home surveillance system.

  “Hello.” Tom’s voice, low and soft, erased all thoughts of sleep.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Right now, nothing feels right. There’s a lot going on in my small town. I’m having trouble keeping up. Not sure I like it. But,” he said slowly, “I do like you, so I wanted to call you first, see how you’re doing. Last night was tough.”

  “I could have handled it better,” Heather admitted, feeling something warm in the pit of her stomach. He liked her.

  “How? You have Gloria Turner identifying your mother, you have ID—”

  She interrupted him before he could continue. “I should have begun by saying who I was and what I was thinking. Sharing a meal probably made it seem like I was extending a hand of friendship. She felt tricked.”

  “If you’d started with the hardcore evidence, she’d have kicked you out or shut you down. What you managed to get were photos of your parents. Now you know they truly worked on having two lives. Debbie said they visited a few times. Do you remember your parents being gone for days at a time?”

  “Yes. Dad said it had something to do with the military and that I’d be bored. They always left me with trusted friends. I actually thought their leaving was cool. They always left me with people who had kids. I’d pretend I had brothers and sisters. But I was always glad when they returned.”

  “If I know Debbie, she’ll mull over this a day or two and then go visit her mother and talk it out. You’ll be getting a phone call or visit.”

  “Fun.” Heather didn’t mean to sound snide, but she was neither convinced nor looking forward to it. She was just so darn tired and feeling uncertain. “Speaking of fun, what’s going on with the accident from last night? Did you find out anything?”

  “For Richard to lose control on the curve in front of the Turners’ place makes no sense. What brought him back? I’ve a dozen questions. We’ve tried to get ahold of his mother, but she’s not answering her door or the phone. That’s the other reason why I called. We might ask you to let us in. I can’t break in, and I’d rather not, anyway. Don’t want to cause any unnecessary damage or concern if I can help it.”

  “Can I do that?” Even as she made the offer, some of the warm feeling ebbed away. He liked her. Yeah, right. He liked her because she might be able to help him solve more than one mystery.

  “You’re the homeowner. First of all,” Tom said, “Richard is your tenant and he is now in the hospital, comatose. Second, his mother is old and not responding to enquiries—that constitutes a valid concern.”

  “I haven’t got a key yet. The property management office didn’t have any extras.”

  “Then after Lucille’s funeral, I’ll stop by the office and get it. Lucille was a friend of theirs, so I may see those folks before then. Please call them, giving me permission to get the key. Hey, I just pulled into the parking lot behind the station. I need to go. There’s a lot to do. Most of my officers will be at the funeral. Sarasota Falls just mi
ght turn into a ghost town.”

  He ended their call and she left a message at the leasing office. Two hours later she realized how right Tom had been. The rental agency wasn’t the only business to shut down for the day. Lucille had been a friend of the whole town judging by how absolutely empty it was, and by how boring the second day of work was for Heather. She was alone since Marcie, fairly new to town, had taken the day off due to the low caseload. Smart girl.

  Maya had put Heather to work updating files and answering the phone. Looking out the window, Heather watched as car after car pulled into the parking lot of the big church across the street. Lucille Calloway’s funeral had effectively halted every business on Main Street. A closed sign hung in the Station’s window. Heather saw her favorite waitress dragging an ice chest, which also seemed to have a heated tray on top of it, down the street in her uniform no less, toward the church. Next to the restaurant, the owner of Rat’s Nest—not the best name for a beauty parlor—turned her sign to Closed and three women, all with perfect hair, joined Maureen. They each carried a plate.

  Heather could see Tom at the front door greeting people, ushering them inside the church and even handing out pamphlets. Closing her eyes, she thought about the double funeral for her parents. She’d been the one at the door, fluttering between the sign-in book and the memory brochures, and trying not to cry. Most of the attendees were either from the small church they attended or from her mother’s childcare practice. Her father had been quieter, more to himself, but a few friends showed up, too.

  Nothing like what Lucille had.

  Not for the first time, Heather wondered what it must be like to stay in one place for a long time. Tom certainly seemed to prefer it. For that matter, so did Debbie Stilwater. She and Lucas exited a midsize white Ford. Lucas had his arm around her for comfort.

  Heather quickly looked for Tom again. He stepped forward to shake Lucas’s hand and even hugged Debbie, who seemed to hesitate for a minute before hugging him back. A lifetime of friendship there thanks to a small community.

  The only surprise at her parents’ funeral had been the daughter of the man who’d owned the helicopter. She’d shown up last, sat in the back and sniffled throughout the whole service. When it was over, she’d found Heather, took her hand and said, “I had to come. I’m so, so sorry.” Then, they’d cried together, two twentysomethings who’d just lost beloved parents. Heather looked up the helicopter owner’s funeral, but it had been the day before.

  She should have gone. Dr. Goodman and a woman Heather assumed was his wife arrived next. Dr. Goodman let her out at the curb and Tom hurried down to carry the food she’d had in the back seat, enough to feed an army just by how many others had to join in to help carry. A man who looked a lot like Dr. Goodman arrived next. Heather recognized him from the photo in Dr. Goodman’s office and from a talk he’d given at the Founder’s Day celebration.

  Like Tom, he’d come alone. He didn’t bring any food nor did he offer to join the food chain that began at his brother’s car. Dr. Goodman was two inches or so taller than his brother and about twenty pounds heavier. Heather remembered he was also the mayor. She stood and headed for the break room to make herself a cup of coffee. She’d spent thirty minutes staring at the church across the street instead of doing her work. Good thing Maya wasn’t there looking over her shoulder. Heather doubted the strict office manager would have much patience for melancholy. Of course, Maya had been the first to arrive at the funeral, as far as Heather could tell.

  The phone rang. Heather answered it, typed the woman’s surname into the computer’s search engine and waited.

  “I’ve got your file. Is it Kevin or Beatrice?”

  “Beatrice. She’s been hurting since last night. She fell into the bathtub faucet and hit her two front teeth. I can already see discoloration, and they’re both loose. I’d really like to get in today. They’re not permanent teeth, but I want to make sure everything’s all right.”

  “I’ll see if we can make that happen, but I’ll have to call you back. Dr. Goodman’s not here. He’s at the funeral.”

  “Oh, goodness, I forgot. Mrs. Calloway was my second-grade teacher. I should be there. No, it’s too late. Yes, call me when everyone gets back. If need be, we can come tomorrow.”

  Heather made a note and then did some file updating. She’d seen enough people carrying food to know that the potluck would be after.

  It was almost one when Maya and Dr. Goodman returned. “Sad, sad day,” Dr. Goodman said as they walked in the door. “Seemed like half the people who were here for the Founder’s Day celebration had to come back.”

  “She was loved,” Maya agreed. “Did you see Cissy Tuttle sitting in the back? When Lucille held the Tuttle boy back a grade, Cissy took it personally, never forgave her. Yet, there she sat, crying. It would have been better if she’d cried for forgiveness while Lucille was alive.”

  Dr. Goodman shrugged. “Sometimes you have to ask for forgiveness at a funeral. It’s the only place left.”

  Heather almost gasped. Thanks to Tom, she possibly knew a bit more about Richard Welborn than most of the inhabitants of Sarasota Falls. The idea forming in her head was wild, a long shot, but it wouldn’t go away.

  “I’m going to make a fresh pot of coffee,” she told Maya.

  “We’re going to need it,” Maya said. Heather retreated to the break room and made the coffee as promised. She also took out her phone and punched in Tom’s number. He didn’t answer, and she wasn’t willing to leave a message, not one this important.

  Heather knew why Richard Welborn had returned to town.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AFTER LUCILLE’S LAST bereaved family member drove away, Tom spent a few minutes with a most concerned funeral director wanting to discuss how the town was coping.

  It was on the tip of Tom’s tongue to say that people were upset, of course, but that life would go on, when it occurred to him that he really needed to get out to the Welborn place again. But first he’d check in at the station, see what was going on there.

  It was a ten-minute drive back through town. Closed signs were being flipped to Open. The town was waking up. A few people waved. He couldn’t shake the sadness.

  After parking in front of the station, he exited his SUV and studied the building he’d worked in for more than a decade. It looked normal. Tom wished he felt normal. He walked up the path, pushed open the door and stepped in. For the first time he understood why the mayor had dropped by. Too much was happening in Sarasota Falls: break-ins, car accidents and even Rachel Ramsey look-alikes. If this kept up, Tom might have to hire another officer, and that certainly wasn’t in the budget.

  Leann, looking as tired as he felt, was at the counter. She stood and said, “I was just about to call you. I’ve got no known residence or place of employment for Welborn still.”

  “He was probably living under an assumed name.”

  “Sure is odd. Before he lived here, his record is spotless. We going back to his mother’s place?”

  Tom agreed. “I need to spend a few minutes in my office. Make a few phone calls. Then we’ll go.”

  Sitting at his desk, he quickly checked his emails. The only one he found referring to Richard was the stolen-vehicle report. He really needed to catch up on paperwork, which he usually did while sitting in his SUV watching over his town. Lately, he’d not done much sitting.

  He switched to his phone, saw he had a message from Heather and called her back. She didn’t answer. He checked his watch. She would still be at the dental office. Maybe he could stop by on his way out to the Welborn place. He signed off his computer and headed out front. Leann raised an eyebrow. She wanted away from the desk. On the other hand, Lucas was helping someone else and wasn’t a bit bothered by desk duty—in fact, he loved it.

  Leann opened her mouth, about to say something, when t
he front door pushed open and Shelley Guzman walked in, her husband right behind.

  Oscar would have gone on patrol the minute Lucas returned to take over the desk, maybe forty minutes ago.

  Shelley shook her head. “I feel silly, but Oscar insists that I need to come in and fill out a report. He says I should take the break-in more seriously.”

  “Every robbery is serious,” Leann said.

  “I just think the first time it was some kid looking for spare change and something to eat. If they knocked on the door, I’d give it to them. I’m even more sure of it now.”

  Tom had often heard such a declaration, but wondered if most folks meant it. Shelley might very well be the exception.

  “We appreciate you coming in. Did you discover something else missing?” asked Tom.

  “No.” Oscar motioned for his wife to sit in one of the ugly orange chairs in the waiting room, which had emptied when Lucas’s civilian left. “Someone broke in to Sweet Sarasota again last night.”

  Tom stifled the words he really wanted to say. “A break-in two nights in a row.”

  “Yes,” Shelley interjected, giving Oscar a let’s-calm-down look. “Someone got into the bakery by climbing through the bathroom window. The back door, thanks to Oscar, is now impenetrable.”

  “What was taken?” Tom could very well imagine the kind of door ex-military, ex-FBI agent Oscar Guzman would install to protect his pregnant wife.

  “That’s the strange part,” Shelley said. “Nothing’s gone. They put money in my cash register.

  Oscar handed over a bag full of ones, fives and a few tens, plus change. “Sixty-four dollars and seventy-two cents.”

  “And they left me a store-bought bag of chocolate chip cookies. They must have felt guilty for stealing from me and were trying to return what they’d taken.”

  “Store-bought can’t compare to your cookies,” Leann chimed in.