“I hope so. The case file wasn’t any help.” It had only reiterated what she’d already learned. That ballistics had proved that the bullets that killed both her mother and her father were fired from the gun found in her father’s hand. No visible signs of forced entry, no signs of an intruder. Discord between the estranged McKees was a matter of record.
“I know. Cameron told me.” She saw the surprise on Serena’s face. “I asked,” Rachel explained, digging into her Caesar salad with relish. “I am a criminologist,” she reminded Serena, “even if all I do is teach budding Jessica Fletchers and Columbos.”
Serena suddenly got an image of that and laughed. “Must be an interesting-looking class.”
“Come by sometime and sit in,” Rachel told her.
The uncertain look in Serena’s eyes told Rachel that she didn’t know if she’d be around that long. Rachel thought of Cameron, and what Serena’s leaving would do to him this time around. There had to be a way to make her stay.
“Listen.” She leaned forward, placing her hand on Serena’s. “If there’s anything I can do to help in any way, just tell me.”
Serena nodded, lowering her eyes to her plate. “I will.”
No, she wouldn’t, Rachel thought. She was trying to shoulder this whole damn thing alone.
“You know,” Rachel began casually. “Sometimes it helps just to talk about the physical clues that are evident. Kick around the theories, hear everything recounted out loud.” Rachel did her best not to make it sound as if she were pushing. “Maybe something will occur to you. Or me.”
After a beat, she raised her eyes to Serena, waiting.
Serena stopped toying with her salad. “You mean now?”
Rachel nodded. “Service is slow here,” she said encouragingly. “We’ve got to talk about something: And—” Rachel hazarded a safe guess “—I don’t think you’re quite ready yet to talk about the fact that you’re melting the kneecaps off my brother.”
Rachel was right, Serena thought. She wasn’t ready to talk about her and Cameron. The fact that Rachel knew without being told impressed her. Maybe the other woman could be some help, at that, could put a fresh perspective on things.
Rachel hardly remembered finishing her main course. She’d hung on Serena’s every word, vividly seeing the chain of events unfolding in her mind’s eye. When Serena finished telling her everything, Rachel was very quiet, reviewing what had been said. All the police evidence pointed to Serena’s father having committed the murder before killing himself.
But there was other evidence, not so tangible at present, to consider. Serena’s nightmares, for one.
“I think you’re trying to remember something.” Rachel speculated. “Some nagging detail you absorbed subconsciously that didn’t strike you as right at the time. It’s trying to surface now, because it’s been reawakened by your efforts to find some evidence to prove your father’s innocence.”
“Are you finished with your meal?” the waiter asked politely.
Engrossed, neither of them had heard the man approach.
“No, I—” Rachel looked down and was surprised to see the plate empty. If she was embarrassed to be proved wrong, she didn’t show it. “I guess I am, at that. Thank you.” She waited until he was gone before making Serena another offer. “Need any help going through the rooms?”
Because there was so much space, it was slow going, but it was almost cathartic, in a way. “No, this is something I have to do myself.” She flashed a smile, not wanting Rachel to get the wrong idea. “But thanks for asking.”
“Offer stands, no matter what.” Rachel wished she could do more than just offer. If ever anyone had needed support, it was Serena. But Rachel supposed that Cameron would find a way to do it, whether Serena allowed him to or not. “You’re not in this alone, Serena.”
But she was, Serena thought. No matter who offered to help, she was in this alone. It was her father who had been blamed, no one else’s. And it was up to her to clear him.
“Thank you,” she answered quietly. “I appreciate that.”
Well, if she couldn’t physically help, she could at least make a suggestion. “You might think about talking to Miss Judith.”
“Miss Judith?”
It surprised Rachel that Serena hadn’t thought of going to the woman earlier. “Miss Judith’s been an ‘observer,’ as she likes to call herself, ever since she was tall enough to peer over the windowsill. She’s been a gossip forever. Maybe she’s heard something useful, seen something that might help you. Worth a try.”
Yes, Serena thought, it was.
“Uh-oh,” Rachel murmured.
Immediately alert, Serena looked around. “What is it?”
“Sin on wheels.” She pointed behind Serena.
Serena turned around to see their waiter approaching, pushing a dessert cart before him.
Rachel sighed mightily. “I gain two pounds just looking at those deserts. Five, if I eat.” She grinned mischievously. “Know a good tailor?”
“Wondered when you’d get around to seeing me.”
The round, deceptively cherubic face hid a sharp, inquiring mind. Judith Merryweather rocked in her chair as she studied Carolyn and Jon McKee’s daughter.
Just like her mother, she thought. Except with a soul. The eyes always told you if there was a soul. Carolyn hadn’t had one—Miss Judith would have staked her own on that.
“I don’t get out like I used to, you know. My pins are swollen.” At Serena’s blank look, Miss Judith tapped her legs with an arthritic hand. “They don’t let me get around as much as I’d like. Here about your mama and your daddy, aren’t you?” The question was accompanied by a smug smile:
Serena sat across from the woman in a living room that the intense incoming afternoon sun had long since bleached. Though she knew she was under the woman’s scrutiny, Serena felt far less uncomfortable than she had beneath Constance Ryan’s haughty gaze.
“Yes. I was hoping you might have heard something. Something about—”
“Carolyn having a lover?” Miss Judith put in, interrupting her. The guess had the proper surprised effect, and she smiled in triumph. “I hear things, even now,” she chuckled. “Just takes longer, that’s all.”
Maybe this was finally it, Serena thought. She slid to the edge of her seat, her hands unconsciously gripping the arms of the chair.
“Did she, Miss Judith? Did my mother have a lover?”
She was too old to play games. Not like Edda. Poor Edda, she thought of her late sister-in-law. Whatever game she was playing had gotten her killed. Damn old biddy had taken the secret to her grave, too.
“It looked that way to some folks,” Miss Judith allowed. “I’m ashamed to say I don’t know for sure. She could keep a secret, that one. Raised to be discreet—” A look of censure came over her face. “Except when she was cutting apart your father with that tongue of hers. In my day, women didn’t cut off their husband’s privates in public.”
Serena fell back against the chair, deflated. “So you don’t know?”
“Nope.” Hair tinted a bright strawberry blond bounced about her head as she shook it. “But I’d say yes.”
It was something. Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
The young were more naive than they liked to believe, Miss Judith mused.
“Where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire, honey.” She took her time with her revelation. She’d never lost her taste for an audience, and there were few of those these days. “Used to see a squad car passing by here. A lot. Sometimes, when it was pretty late. Passed by even more right after your daddy moved out. Not much crime here to be concerned about then.”
Serena tried to make sense out of what the woman was alluding to. “A policeman?”
Miss Judith spread her hands. There was room for interpretation. “Or somebody who had access to a police car and was using it to avoid suspicion. Hell, honey, when you’ve lived as long as me, you know just about anything’s possible. But,�
�� she continued shrewdly, “if you ask me, there was some kind of a fox in your daddy’s henhouse, and he got wind of it. Might have been what sent him over the edge.”
Serena ignored the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “So you think he killed her because he was jealous.” Just more proof that he had done it, she thought miserably.
“Happens to the best of us.” Miss Judith leaned forward, shifting her bulk. “Want my advice?”
Serena knew she would get it whether she asked for it or not. “Yes?”
“Put this behind you. You’re still young. Letting things eat at you like this does no one any good. Your daddy wouldn’t have wanted to see you throw your life away.”
The comment spurred her interest. “Did you know my father?”
“Only to look at. He was a handsome man, Jon McKee was. And a trophy for your mama when she caught him.” Miss Judith clucked her tongue. “Trouble with Carolyn Tyler was, once she caught things, she got bored with them. For her, it was always the thrill of the chase. She liked the power that gave her.
That’s probably why she had an affair to begin with. Not because she fell hopelessly in love. Pish, she didn’t know the first thing about loving anyone but herself. No, she had an affair because she liked the thrill of manipulating a man who resisted.” Miss Judith sighed, shifting again. ”Sorry I couldn’t be more help to you.”
“But you have been,” Serena assured her, rising. She was more certain than ever that there was a third party involved. “You really have been.”
Chapter 14
Cameron stirred. His brain still foggy from sleep, his eyes closed against the intruding light of day, he reached for her.
His hand came into contact with nothing but bed linen.
Sleep vanished as he blinked, turning around to face Serena’s side of the bed.
It was empty. The light blanket was still in place, as if she hadn’t turned it back when she got into bed.
As if she hadn’t been there all night.
Because she hadn’t been, he thought. A sprinkling of the anger he’d suppressed last night returned to him. Serena hadn’t been to bed because she had gone on with her search through the rooms, keeping at it for most, if not all, of the night.
He’d returned to the house yesterday evening to find her raking through the various cabinets and storage areas in the kitchen. She’d told him of her lunch with Rachel and her meeting with Miss Judith. She’d gone on to say that she’d spent several hours at the newspaper morgue and come away with nothing new to show for it.
Searching the rooms was her last avenue, and she’d pursued it with verve and dedication. Like a person on a crusade. Or a person obsessed.
He hadn’t been able to persuade her to stop for dinner. She’d claimed to still be full from lunch. So he had made them both sandwiches and prepared to join her in systematically winnowing through everything. She had gently but firmly turned him down. This was something she wanted to do alone.
So he had left her alone. And when it was time for bed, she hadn’t come. Not even when he called to her. Annoyed, he’d turned in.
Long into the night, Cameron had kept hearing the muted sounds of her fruitless search as he lay alone in the bed they’d shared. Finally, he’d drifted off to a restless sleep, only to dream of her.
Sighing, Cameron sat up and dragged his hands over his face. What he felt inside him right now was even emptier than the place beside him in bed.
Was this what he was going to feel like when she wasn’t there? Was he always going to wonder if she was just gone for the moment, or for good? It hurt like hell, this startled realization that had burst over him when he first saw that she wasn’t at his side.
Sometimes he wondered if it was worth the trouble, this mercurial thing known as love that people tried so hard to find. He’d found it. Found it twice, with the same woman. And yet he felt as if he were standing with a bagful of nothing. Because what he felt wasn’t returned in kind.
He knew there were no guarantees in life, but there were some things he wanted to be able to rely on. Love was one of them. He was sure enough of the love and support of his family to stake his life on it.
But what of Serena? What of the love that he ached for?
Would he ever be sure of her? Would he ever not wake up with that gnawing fear that she might be gone forever if the space beside him was empty?
The only answer to that lay with her.
He shook his head. Who would ever have thought he’d be at the mercy of someone who appeared to be so delicate? That his fate rested in such small hands?
“Just shows to go you,” he muttered flippantly. “You never know.”
Cameron showered and shaved as quickly as he could, absently going through a routine that was ingrained and automatic. Which was fortunate, given that his mind was elsewhere.
As soon as he was dressed, he went looking for her. She’d probably fallen asleep in one of the rooms, he decided. He began with the upper floor.
He found Serena in her father’s bedroom, her back partially to the doorway. She was standing inside the walk-in closet, and as he approached he saw that she was frowning at the clothes that hung on the rack to her right.
“Have you been at this all night?”
She jumped, pressing her hand to her chest as if to keep it from leaping out. He hated the flicker of fear in her eyes, hated what had put it there. Hated that she wouldn’t allow him to help remove it.
“Sorry,” he muttered. But he wasn’t sorry. He was angry and hurt, because she was denying herself and him something that should have been so easy to allow. Something that had once been so simple to share and cherish.
Recovering, she shook her head. “No, not all night,” she told him, though it almost had been. “I stopped to take a nap for a while.” Her frown deepened as she looked at the rack again. “It’s not here.”
He looked, and obviously didn’t see what she was talking about.
“What, clues?” he asked wearily.
“No, his blue sweater. My father’s light blue sweater. It was his favorite. It should be right here.” She pointed to an empty hanger between two sweaters. “He was very methodical, and always kept things in precise order. My mother liked that about him,” she remembered. It was one of the few things, besides his money and his lineage, that Carolyn had liked.
Cameron shrugged. He didn’t see the particular significance in a misplaced sweater. “People have broken in here over the years,” he reminded her. “Maybe someone took it.”
“Maybe,” she agreed tentatively, but he could see that she was unconvinced.
A vague memory of seeing the sweater somewhere the night her father died had returned to her while she was reading the newspaper accounts of the crime. But a description of what her father had been wearing only made mention of a suit and a tie, commenting on his formality even in the face of a heat wave. If he hadn’t worn the blue sweater, why did she remember seeing it? She hadn’t seen her father that day, not until she found his body.
Serena turned from the closet to look at Cameron. “But why would they take that and not one of the more expensive things? His suede coat is still here, in the back.” She pushed aside a cluster of jackets and pointed to it. “It was almost brand new. And any one of his suits would’ve been far more tempting to a thief than an ordinary sweater.” She didn’t add that she had bought the sweater and that was why her father had regarded it as his favorite.
“I don’t know,” Cameron answered, exasperated. “If I could figure out how the criminal mind worked, I wouldn’t be a detective in Bedford, I’d be the head of the FBI.”
He was edgy, and he knew it. Making an effort to bridle his temper, he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to sound less tense when he asked, “Are you going down for some breakfast?”
But she had already turned away, investigating the contents of one of the drawers within the closet. “Maybe later. I’ve still got several more rooms in the house to g
o through.”
He stared at the back of her head, telling himself to go before he said something he couldn’t take back. But somehow, the words that burned in his brain wouldn’t let him leave.
He might as well have it out with her now as later.
“And then what?”
Serena closed the drawer and opened another one. There had to be something. Had she already seen it and not realized it?
“What do you mean?” she asked absently.
Walking into the closet, he shut the drawer, forcing her attention squarely onto him. There was a strange look in, his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
“What if you run out of places to look and still don’t find anything to absolve your father?” He gave her the worst-case scenario before she could reply. “Or what if, after all this, you find out that your father really did kill your mother? What then, Serena? Are you going to leave?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer him. He read the look in her eyes and saw it all there, saw the hesitation, the indecision mingled with regret.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Even as he said it, he couldn’t believe it. And yet, he knew it was true. “You’d leave everything we have, just because your father wasn’t the shining prince you thought he was.” As he spoke, his anger rose until it towered over them both. He could understand, at this single moment, the rage, the sense of betrayal, that Jon McKee must have felt, that had sent him on the path to his tragic end. Because he was faced with something he couldn’t change, no matter how much he wanted to. That tended to break some men. “Because he was human and someone drove him too far.”
Why was he saying this to her? Why didn’t he understand how this affected her, how it made her feel about placing her trust in someone? “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” He looked at her incredulously. “Fair? I think I’ve been more than fair about this. I’ve tried to help you and you won’t let me. I reach for you and you back away. I want you and you’re not there. You won’t let me cross over that line, won’t let me in.” He knew she couldn’t deny any of it. “Damn it, Serena, you’re not giving us a chance. I love you.”
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