The Woman Most Wanted

by Pamela Tracy

  “What?” Heather sputtered. She’d been half-afraid he’d say someone who didn’t want the child.

  “Well,” Tom mused, “we talked about the birth father being in Sarasota Falls, someone who Father Joe knew, someone paying Diane’s bills.”

  “Wasn’t Kyle Ramsey paying Diane’s bills?”

  “Hah.” Tom almost laughed. “The only time Kyle had money is after he cheated or robbed somebody.”

  “That, at least, explains why Rachel stayed with Diane for all her childhood. My birth father paid for me to disappear. Her birth father didn’t.”

  “We’re still hypothesizing,” Tom reminded her. “I haven’t given up on the idea of Raymond being your father. It just makes too much sense.”

  “He was too good a person to do—” she began.

  “He was also in the military and gone a lot. There’s the chance he didn’t know you existed until after you were born, and then he came and found you.”

  “That only makes a tiny bit of sense. Very tiny. My dad wasn’t the kind to put off for tomorrow what could be done today. If he were truly my birth father, he’d have gone the legal route. He’d have gotten custody—”

  “And had to share you and deal with Diane for the rest of your life.”

  “Not the prettiest picture,” Heather agreed. “But not an unusual one, either.”

  All serious and with his notebook out again, writing in the gloom of the rainy night, Tom said, “We still can’t completely eliminate him as a possibility.”

  Heather nodded. She sincerely hoped that Raymond Tillsbury was her true father. He was a good man. “I know it’s wrong, but I wish my parents would have kidnapped Rachel, too,” she said. “Talked Father Joe into it. Met him somewhere. Raised her with me. We’ll never know why they didn’t.”

  “They were probably terrified that if they tried to take her, too, they’d put you and everyone in danger, so they helped in the only way they knew how.”

  “How?”

  “They somehow arranged to buy that house and for Diane to live in it at a ridiculously low rent.”

  Her parents had done that?

  Tom frowned. “Maybe that was Diane’s price. A free place to live. I need to find out when she moved in. And any other details... Who’s left that would know?”

  “At least now I have an idea why they had a rental here in Sarasota Falls,” Heather said softly. “I need to go out there, make sure everything is all right. Rachel might have milk in the fridge or the mail could be stacking up.”

  “I can send a deputy.”

  “No, I want to do it. Would that be legal? I am the landlord, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Heather gripped the steering wheel and continued driving through the dusky darkness. She almost wished she’d let Tom drive. Then she could lean back, close her eyes and think all of this through.

  She’d think a bit about him, too. His jean-clad legs. His wide shoulders made it so every time she adjusted the radio or reached for her purse, she brushed against him.

  “You all right?” Tom asked.

  “Fine.” No way was she going to tell him that she wasn’t all right and that even in the midst of this chaos, she was still affected by him. She slowed down as a truck overtook them, spraying an extra shower over her little car.

  They were almost home.

  Home?

  Sarasota Falls.

  “I know I have to be patient,” Heather said after a few minutes. “But it’s hard. I mean, I gave you everything you needed for DNA, so we should know eventually, but if my father isn’t Raymond Tillsbury, then I bet Father Joe does know who my father is, despite what he told us, and we do need to pressure him,” Heather said, speeding up a bit.

  “Pressure a priest?” Tom couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice. “He could claim that his position as a member of the clergy requires him to refrain from supplying the name, but maybe enough time has passed that he’d reconsider telling us.”

  She nodded. Father Joe had looked as if he had more to say to them.

  “I’m wondering if someone powerful has Father Joe spooked.”

  “So, my birth father might still live in Sarasota Falls?”

  “It’s a possibility. Or, it could be Father Joe’s protecting a family who’d be destroyed or hurt by discovering an indiscretion.”

  “If I thought my existence would hurt someone, I’d keep it private.”

  “Too late for that,” Tom pointed out. “Bianca knows, my whole staff knows, and while none of them are what I’d call gossips...” He paused and Heather knew he was reconsidering Bianca. “It’s still too many to be safe. Plus, Rachel’s been arrested and reporters will be digging. You’re her dead ringer. It’s an obvious connection they’ll be diving into, for sure. At this point, we need to know the truth before our lives spiral out of control.”

  Our lives.

  Heather had nothing left to say. She felt overwhelmed. What she’d give to sit down with her mother and just hear the truth. It wouldn’t change a thing about the way she felt about her parents. They, according to Father Joe, had come to him with their idea. They were in love, intended to get married, and Sarah couldn’t sleep knowing that a little girl was going hungry and showing up at childcare with bruises.

  Her father had seen war up close and personal. He, much like Tom, was a protect-and-serve kind of guy, and he’d certainly protected Heather her whole life.

  Father Joe, although he hadn’t shared what he’d learned from Diane during their counseling sessions, was concerned enough that he helped.

  Tom put his hand on her leg and squeezed just a bit, enough so she knew he was along for the ride not because he was a cop, but because he was her cop.

  * * *

  TOM DREW LONG shifts over the next few days. Who knew that a small town could be so busy? His absence made Heather realize just how much time she’d been spending with him.

  To her chagrin, she also realized just how much she missed his company. How had he managed to become such an established part of her life? So much so that she was often checking her phone to see if he’d called.

  He was busy; she knew that. Had to accept it, too. Rachel was talking to lawyers. Richard was still in a coma. Tom and Heather had visited him twice, both times just sitting in his room and telling him what was going on, leaving out any mention of Abigail.

  On Monday, Tom found time to phone. The case was at a standstill while he waited on the DNA results. To Heather’s annoyance, while he was willing to talk about her case, and her circumstances in general, he wasn’t willing to talk about Rachel. All he’d say was the wheels of justice turned slow.

  At the coffee shop on Wednesday, she’d met Leann and during their conversation the officer had quoted the chief’s words about the wheels of justice, adding, “And sometimes you have a blowout at the worst possible time.”

  Heather left with her coffee and the feeling that she was a part of something, not just the quest to find her identity, but as a member of the Sarasota Falls family. And they were family at the police station. Oh, Lucas was still a bit put off, but Tom must have said something because Lucas had extended an open invitation to lunch, and to just talk and share stories.

  The next night, Bianca’s nephew, Deputy Oscar Guzman, and his wife and baby son came to the B and B for supper.

  Heather liked Shelley. This particular night, Heather liked her even more after hearing about what Shelley called “the great mistake,” referring to her ex-husband. “I’d do it all again,” Shelley said, “if it was the only way to meet Oscar.”

  “She’s only saying that so next week she can dress little Oscar up in a police costume for Halloween,” Oscar teased. He waved a full spoon in front of his son, refusing to let the one-year-old dictate.

  “You c
ould swing by the party for a short while,” Bianca said. “It’s little Oscar’s first Halloween. And it’s a school night so no one’s going to stay late or be too rowdy.”

  “Halloween’s always busy. Come on, little one, you need to eat. We’re all working.” He smiled at Heather. “Even the chief.”

  “Why are you telling me that?” Heather tried for nonchalance, but didn’t fool anyone because Shelley rolled her eyes, and Oscar just grinned.

  “We’ve never seen the chief in such a mood before. Half the time, he’s easy to get along with.”

  “That’s because he arrested Rachel Ramsey,” Heather pointed out.

  “No, it’s because of you,” Shelley said. “Oscar tells me about his day, what he can share. And lately a lot of it has been about Tom. It’s good to see him so happy. Like his old self.”

  “You knew his old self? What about his ex-wife?” Heather asked. “I am a bit curious.”

  “Yes, I knew Cathy. What I remember most,” Shelley said, “is how vibrant she was.”

  “She always wanted more,” Bianca said, taking the now sleeping baby from Oscar and slowly pacing back and forth. “I knew she wouldn’t stay in Sarasota Falls. She wanted bigger and better.”

  “Nothing better than here,” Oscar noted. “I’ve been a lot of places, stateside and overseas. I found paradise here.” The way he looked at Shelley made Heather long for the same. Her father had looked at her mother that way, as if amazed at her.

  Bianca left the room and came back a few moments later without little Oscar. “Sometimes people, like Tom, go through high school and you’re with the same person the whole time, and you assume your life will never change.”

  While Bianca took dessert plates from a cabinet and set them on the table, Shelley headed for the kitchen. Heather knew what this meant—another inch on her waist. If Shelley wasn’t bringing over apple pie, she was dropping off brownies. Being pregnant seemed to make her bake more, more than she needed at Sarasota Sweets, even. And poor Bianca only had two guests staying in the bed-and-breakfast tonight, and they had gone out to eat.

  Bianca was handing desserts out to the mailman in order to get rid of them.

  “Tom was the football player,” Bianca said after swallowing her first bite of apple pie, “who made all the touchdowns and then settled down and was happy. That happiness was shaken to its core when Max died.”

  Heather nodded. She could see that.

  “And Cathy was the cheerleader who, when Tom got so very dedicated to his job after his partner’s death, suddenly didn’t have a team to cheer for.”

  Shelley looked at Oscar, and Heather saw the worry there. Being a cop’s spouse had to be hard.

  Not that she and Tom were a couple. They weren’t. They were just spending a lot of time together because of her mystery.

  And when the mystery was solved? For a long time, Heather thought that meant she’d return to Phoenix, her old job, her old life.

  Now she wasn’t so sure. Back there, she didn’t have a team to cheer for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FRIDAY MORNING, Tom had breakfast with the Sarasota Falls Chamber of Commerce at the Station Diner. Mayor Goodman was there talking about tourism and how successful the Founder’s Day celebration had been and how they needed to figure out the next best thing.

  Some of the business folks attending were as focused as the mayor; others had questions for Tom. Most wanted to know what was happening with Rachel. A few queried about Heather. Tom wasn’t sure if he was grateful or annoyed that the questions had to do with his relationship with her and not if she were related to Rachel.

  The mayor, looking tired, bullied everyone into following the agenda. “Our population is down,” the mayor said. “We’ve got three empty storefronts.”

  “Meaning,” Bianca whispered to Tom, “that he’s not receiving rent on them.”

  Tom nodded. The mayor and his family had always been a force.

  When the meeting ended, midmorning, the mayor followed Tom to his SUV. “I hope you’re not upset with my suggestion that Oscar take the lead on the Rachel Ramsey case.”

  “I’m not. It was a good suggestion.”

  The mayor looked surprised. Typically, such a call would have met with resistance.

  “I’m too close to the case. You were right.”

  “What’s happening? Do you know?”

  “She has a lawyer, a fairly good one, and what looks to be in her favor is that Jeremy Salinas threatened to kill her and her unborn baby if she didn’t get out of the car. She’s claiming that she didn’t know Jeremy planned to kill Max.”

  “Do you believe her?” Mayor Goodman asked.

  “Not for me to decide,” Tom said. “We’ll let the courts do that.”

  “Oh, don’t use that line on me, Thomas Riley. I knew you when you couldn’t keep a diaper on. What do you think?”

  “I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “Then, when you testify, you’ll stick up for her?” Mayor Goodman raised an eyebrow, disbelief all over his face.

  “I’ll state the facts. And truthfully, right now, we’re hoping having her will draw Salinas in.”

  “He’s still in the picture? Do we need to put extra patrol to keep the area safe?”

  “We’re being diligent. I wouldn’t worry just yet.”

  “Sometimes,” the mayor said, “I think I was born to worry. What about Heather Graves? You figure out a connection?”

  “We’re working on that right now. I should have a DNA report soon.”

  “What about the robberies?”

  “We’re looking into them.”

  “Word around town is you’re looking after Miss Graves a bit more than the job requires.”

  With that the mayor walked to the parking lot next to the Station Diner. He stepped into his beloved burgundy-and-black Studebaker. Tom watched a moment and then hurried down the sidewalk to fall into step beside Heather.

  “You on break?” he asked.

  “No. We only had two appointments. They didn’t need four staff for two children. I’m low man on the totem pole so got the rest of the day off.” She looked him up and down. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

  “Chamber-of-commerce meeting. Just broke up, so I’m free. I’m thinking spur-of-the-moment here. How about you?”

  “Spur-of-the-moment what?”

  “Step into my carriage.” He opened the passenger door to his SUV.

  “You’re kidding. I’m in my scrubs.”

  “And you look great, Scrubby.”

  “Scrubby? Don’t go there.”

  He smiled, reached for her and whispered loudly, “The mayor just accused me of wooing you. I like to be guilty of what I’m charged with. Come with me today. Let’s have some fun.”

  It had been a while since Chief Tom Riley had asked a woman for a date. Heather Graves, though, was worth the wait.

  “I’m game if you are.” She swung into the passenger seat, buckled up and said, “Let’s go.”

  He stopped at a corner market, ran in and got snacks and bottled water, and then headed to the outskirts of town. It wasn’t until they’d passed both the Turner place and her house that she asked, “What are we doing?”

  Tom paused. What was he doing? Back in Sarasota Falls, his desk had never been so cluttered in all his years as chief. It was almost the weekend and he needed to be on top of things. Yet, here he was, in the wildest area just outside his jurisdiction, pulling into the scenic overlook, opening his door and then hers, and it seemed like the best idea in the world.

  “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Here, in the middle of nowhere?”

  “It’s not the middle of nowhere. This is Jicarilla Apache land. I’ve been explori
ng it since I was a Boy Scout.”

  “I should have known you were a Boy Scout.”

  “All the way to Eagle,” he proclaimed proudly.

  Tom noted that she was smiling.

  “Most of this is government land, but there’s the Blackgoat Ranch, a homestead of over a hundred and fifty years.”

  “Is that where we’re going?”

  “Yes, about a quarter of a mile in.” He glanced at her shoes. “Think you can walk that far?”

  “These are my work shoes. They’re built for comfort and endurance.”

  He thought about taking her hand, wished he could, but though they’d been together just about every day for almost two weeks, it had always been on police business.

  “Where exactly are you taking me?”

  “A surprise.”

  “I’m guessing it’s not the upscale-restaurant or movie-night kind of surprise.”

  “You got that right.”

  Within a few minutes, they were on the trail. He knew the way even though he’d not hiked back here in almost ten years.

  His ex-wife didn’t like the outdoors much. She preferred air-conditioning to fresh air and hardwood floors to dirt. She’d wanted to sell his family home and move into one of the cute new condos built toward the lake. No backyard at all, just a square area big enough for a table and two chairs.

  He’d put his foot down, and they’d stayed in the house his parents had sold to them.

  “You’ve got that look on your face,” Heather said.

  “What look?”

  “The look that means you’re weighing a problem and how you can solve it to suit your expectations.”

  “I don’t have a look like that.”

  “Yes, you do. The first time I saw it was when you arrested me and everyone around you said I wasn’t Rachel, that I was too short. You started talking about my height.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You did, too. I could hear you yelling from across the station. And then when we were sitting in the Turners’ living room and Gloria mentioned that Sarah Lewis’s picture would be in an old yearbook. You were still trying to figure out a way to get the yearbook and we were already onto another subject.”