by Unknown
On the other end of the phone, Jackson Cooper’s voice cracked amid the rattle of radios and conversation.
“Brijette, we need you at a rental house on Small Ridge Road, right past Joe Canton’s place.”
“I know where it is. Is it a fresh trail you want me to follow?”
“I’ll explain when you get here.”
Dylan was waiting by the front door when Brijette got dressed and left her bedroom. “I hate having to drag you along like this, Dylan.”
“I want to go. Do you think I can help track?”
“We’ll see when we get there.”
The hot and humid night air surrounded them, and Brijette flipped the air-conditioning in the vehicle on low. The thick trees hanging near the edge of the road made ghostly images in the receding light. But the shadows and milky reflections washed away when they pulled into the drive of the small brick house. Several patrol cars surrounded the home with their lights glaring, assisted by a few sets of batterypowered spotlights scattered near the edges of the woods.
Parking the car, Brijette killed the engine, but before she could open her door Dylan went bounding across the yard.
“Cade!”
Brijette studied the crowd of people through her window. Sure enough, Cade waited next to Jackson. Maybe this wasn’t a regular tracking assignment.
Halfway to where the group had gathered, she met Dylan scuffing her way back to their car, frowning and huffing words under her breath Brijette couldn’t understand. Cade and Jackson watched her.
“What’s up?”
Dylan put her hands on her hips. “You’re my mother. Would you please tell them it’s okay for me to be here and that I can help you track?”
“What did they tell you?”
“That I needed to wait in the car.”
Brijette gave a half smile. “I guess you should wait in the car.”
“But, Mom, I’m big enough to help.”
“You are big enough to help in most cases, but if Cade and Jackson feel you don’t need to be in the middle of this, I’ll have to trust their judgment.”
Much more humphing and sighing followed, but Dylan stalked to the vehicle. Brijette hadn’t had much to say to Cade since they’d disagreed about her helping the Broussard couple. He’d suggested she and Dylan come for dinner twice, and she’d refused. Now she couldn’t avoid him.
“I’m guessing you didn’t call me here to follow a trail.”
Jackson frowned. “Not exactly, though I imagine you’ll want to give the place a once-over and let me know if you have an idea what’s going on here.”
“They’ve found a stash of drugs. Some of them are prescriptions with mine and your names on them.” Cade’s jaw was tight with anger.
“Your uncle says this happened to him in the past.”
“I don’t think he’s had a problem like this before,” Jackson said.
“I don’t care if it has happened before. I don’t need this right now.”
She twisted to confront Cade. “And you think I do?”
“I’m saying I haven’t had this problem before I came here.” He planted his feet apart as if ready to take her on in an argument.
She didn’t even try to keep from sneering at him. “Well, heaven forbid that the little country town’s going to tarnish the good city doctor’s reputation.”
Cade moved in closer to her, his voice dropping an octave. “If you have an idea of what’s going on here, you’d better come clean with it.”
Her body went stiff. “What does that mean? Why am I the one who might have information?”
Jackson stood back, watching them, until he finally waved his hand to get their attention. “Why don’t you both come inside? You can decide whose fault it is later, preferably not on my time.”
Brijette followed behind the big officer, embarrassed that she’d let Cade get to her and still angry at what he might be insinuating. It wasn’t fair that she’d made one mistake when she was seventeen years old, and now every time an issue with drugs surfaced, she had to be put under a microscope and scrutinized.
Dusty lightbulbs illuminated the house, revealing a filthy mess with trash scattered in the sparsely furnished rooms. In the kitchen, dirty dishes and empty food containers littered the cabinets and table. An acrid smell burned her nose amid the general stench of nastiness.
“This place reeks.”
Jackson wiped the back of his forearm across his mouth as if the idea of being sick lurked nearby. “Yeah. Among other things, they were cooking crystal methamphetamine. But that’s not why I called you.”
In one of the tiny bedrooms sat a rather expensive copy machine and several bottles of prescription medications and blank prescription pads. Bending to look at the bottles, Brijette saw a few with her name and several with Cade’s. A pad from their clinic sat next to the bottles. Right beside them were two more from towns that were at least two hours away. Most of the bottles had been filled in other towns, even though they had hers and Cade’s names on them.
“Are these patient names familiar to you, and are these prescription pads originals from your clinic? Also, see these scripts written with your name on them? Is any of that your actual handwriting? If we can locate who might have come to the clinic to get these, or who you wrote one prescription for, we’ll have a lead.”
Brijette flipped through the papers, reading the names. “How did you find out about this place?”
“I had a report from some folks fishing on the river. They spotted unusual traffic coming this way and when they came to fish on the creek in those woods, a man told them it was private property and they’d have to leave. Of course, the guys fishing were from this area and knew the owner of the real-estate agency that has this house, and he’d never minded them fishing here before. We checked with him, and the person renting the place paid cash and when we investigated further we found the identification he’d used to get the rental was fake.”
Brijette stepped away from the evidence that she had to admit could look very bad on her. No one would give Cade a second thought, but she’d immediately fall under suspicion.
“I’d like to check the grounds.”
“You think there are tracks to follow?” Cade asked.
“No, but I might get a sense of the comings and goings of the people in this house. It probably won’t accomplish a thing, but I’ll feel better.”
At her vehicle, she pulled a clipboard from a box. In the passenger seat, Dylan sat mutely, not even bothering to acknowledge her mother or Cade, who’d tagged behind Brijette.
He thumbed a finger at the SUV as they walked away. “How long will that last?”
Brijette snorted. “Once I would have said not long, but lately these moods haven’t been following patterns from the past.”
“My fault, you think?”
“Possibly, or maybe a sign of the teenage years ahead.”
Cade groaned. “Teenage years. It even sounds scary.”
She laughed, pulling a pen from her pocket and forgetting for a minute his earlier accusations. “Yeah, it does to me, too.”
She started circling the house, not really sure what she might find. Her circle enlarged and the number of footprints decreased. She imagined most of what she’d seen near the house had been made tonight. Farther on, she began to notice more patterns and similarities. She took the clipboard and drew the prints on separate sheets of paper. Then she went to the first one again, examining it more closely, making notes on the paper. She ran her finger lightly around the print, feeling the dirt and the indentions.
“What are you doing?”
She put a finger to her lips, telling Cade to be quiet until she finished. After a few more minutes she straightened. “I’m trying to separate these prints. They’re not made by the same person, you know. For example, this one is a man, fairly large I’d say, and he goes this way regularly with no meandering around, straight from the house and onto that path, probably to the river. But this one—” s
he flipped the page to another print and trotted across the yard away from the edge of the woods “—he wanders around quite a bit. Maybe he’s watching the area.”
She flipped to another sheet. “This set is different.” Tapping her finger on the paper, she tried to imagine the guy ambling along. “I only found a few of these.”
“Maybe it’s one of the police from tonight.”
“No, the shoes aren’t like what the sheriff’s people wear, they’re different. And the stride is odd, not like a man walking normally. I’m not sure what it is.” She rubbed the nape of her neck. “It doesn’t feel right.”
He grinned. “That’s important, huh? How the track feels?”
“Oh, okay. I know it’s weird, but I do get a feeling for a trail on occasion, for who made it.”
“Psychic, huh?”
Laughing, she smacked his arm with the clipboard. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not psychic. It’s more like intuition, a gut instinct.”
“I’ve got a gut feeling, myself.”
She frowned at him. “Really?”
“I made you mad the other day and I didn’t mean to, and I did it again before we went in the house. It sounded like I was accusing you.”
“No, you were accusing me.”
He mumbled words she couldn’t understand.
“What did you say?”
“I was wrong, okay?”
She smiled even though she was still aggravated and, to be honest, hurt. “Is it that difficult to say?”
One side of his mouth tweaked upward and for an instant his slightly full lower lip mesmerized her. “Occasionally, it is hard, and I feel like I’ve needed to say it way too much lately.” He hung his head, contemplating the ground. “Honestly, Brijette, this scares me and I went a little nuts. We’re under suspicion for writing unnecessary narcotic prescriptions and I really don’t need trouble here.”
She nearly gaped at him. This wasn’t like the strong, unshakeable Cade she knew so well. He was truly worried, which made her even more concerned. Touching his hard bicep, she tried to give a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. It’s stressing me, too. We’ll have to try to help the sheriff’s office take care of it.”
His gaze fell to her hand gripping his arm. She started to let it fall to her side but he placed his on top, keeping them connected. “And the other day, with that couple?”
She shook her head. “We’re too different, Cade. That’s probably why it’s good we parted when we were younger. You can’t understand what’s important to me because of where you’ve come from. The way you were raised and the things you’ve learned to value are completely opposite of what’s important in my life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. But I can’t convince you because you’ve already decided who I am, and no matter what I say or do, you only see what you want to see.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. The other day, I didn’t admit what was really bothering me, but I should have. My main concern that day was that you would get involved in helping the Broussards, and when and if it went badly you’d be hurt.”
She froze, unable to hide the shock on her face. She wanted to ask why he cared if she got hurt, but she couldn’t get the words to come.
He retreated quickly, as though the expression on her face had made him regret his admission. “Now is not the time to discuss this. It’s getting late and I know Dylan’s ready to go.” She started to leave but he caught her shoulder. “Maybe one day you’ll take those blinders off when you’re looking at me.” His fingers loosed, his hand slipping to his side.
Crushing the clipboard to her chest, she hurried to her car, leaving Cade in the yard behind the house.
When she got in the SUV, Dylan continued to ignore her. As she fastened her seat belt, she noticed Cade talking to Jackson. His words rang with truth. She didn’t want him to be anything other than what she had made him in her mind. If he wasn’t the horrible person she’d imagined, he might still be the boy she fell in love with, the one who had seemed to share her hopes and dreams. He’d be the man she’d been dreaming of meeting and falling in love with all this time that she’d been unable to meet the “right” guy, the “right” father for Dylan. It was an impossible situation on several different levels. Unfortunately, much of it was her fault.
She peeked at her daughter still sulking in the passenger seat. The child needed a father, but at what cost to the life she’d made for the two of them and the values she’d tried to instill? Could she really trust Cade?
CHAPTER TEN
AN UNCHARACTERISTICALLY quiet afternoon had Brijette sighing with relief. Everyone had hurried home as soon as the last patient had left except for her, Cade and the receptionist. Lately they’d been swamped. The last couple of Thursdays, she’d returned from Willow Point to find Cade still inundated with patients, so she’d stayed late to help him. He’d never asked her to cancel her visits to the field clinic. She was glad, because more people were coming and starting to trust her. If she didn’t show up, what would they think? Cade had mentioned getting help, but she’d not heard another word, so she imagined his uncle had vetoed the idea.
The sound of voices from the front of the building caught her attention. She slipped into the hallway and clutched the door frame for support. Her other hand caught her throat, then dropped to her chest to remind herself to breathe. She’d never suffered a panic attack before, but the beginnings of what had to be a monstrous episode started in the middle of her stomach and spread through her body. The thin older woman with a chic bob paused in the middle of a sentence, her hand midair in a gesture. She recognized the echoing look of panic on the woman’s face. Brijette used her grip on the door frame to drag herself back into the exam room she’d been tidying. Where was Cade? She prayed he’d stayed in the building, that she wouldn’t have to meet this woman alone, not again. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. Cade hadn’t protected her before and she had no reason to expect him to now. Mrs. Wheeler had no power over her. Brijette wasn’t a teenager grappling with her morals to try to survive.
THE DOORKNOB JIGGLED before she’d really convinced herself that she had nothing to fear from Cade’s mother. Expensive cologne filled the air when Ellen Wheeler entered the room, every hair in place, makeup perfectly applied. “If you want Cade, he’s probably in Doc Wheeler’s office.”
“I don’t need Cade. I’m wondering why you’re here and why no one bothered to tell me you and Cade were working together?”
“I work here and have for three years. As far as your being informed of it, well, you’ll have to take that up with your son or brother-in-law.”
“Don’t worry, I plan to. I’m not sure how this affects the little arrangement we made years ago.” She glanced away from Brijette, scanning the small exam room and, as if finding it lacking, frowned.
“This has nothing to do with that, since I wasn’t the one who reentered Cade’s life. Your family made that decision.”
“I promise they didn’t consult me. I hope you haven’t discussed the details of our agreement, even with Cade. He wasn’t privy to them, especially the amount of money I gave you.”
“Or the fact that I was pregnant.”
For a moment, Mrs. Wheeler appeared a little embarrassed and possibly afraid. “You’re right, and I’m certain it was for the best that he didn’t know that you were more than willing to get rid of his child for money. Hopefully, you haven’t been stupid enough to tell him the truth.”
“No, I haven’t.”
She longed to tell the woman how she regretted taking the money. Not because she’d used it for what it had been intended. She only wished she’d found other ways to have her child and rise above the circumstances she’d been born to, ways that didn’t include Wheeler money. That whole time in her life had been one wrong decision after another. The only bright light had been Dylan and the building of Brijette’s own resolve to never get in that position again.
�
�Just so long as we understand each other, I plan to do everything I can to get Cade to come back to Dallas with me.”
“But what about Doc Arthur and this clinic, how will he keep it open while he’s recuperating?”
The older woman wavered. Brijette could see it in her face, but she didn’t respond. Instead she spun around, her gray hair swinging slightly, and she was gone, the sound of her classic leather shoes on the wooden floor fading as she returned to the front room.
Brijette dropped the rag she’d been holding, letting it land in the middle of the floor. She didn’t finish cleaning but raced to her car. She needed to get her mind around the fact that Mrs. Wheeler had arrived in Cypress Landing ready to cause trouble. Finding a new job wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t what she wanted. How did this woman keep discovering ways to come in and send her life spiralling toward a disaster? Because I let her. Brijette rested her head on the steering wheel before starting the engine. Not this time. This time she wouldn’t let Cade’s mother knot the strings of her life.
“I’D SAY WE’RE BOTH in trouble with my mother.” Cade stood at the stove in his uncle’s house, warming the food prepared earlier by the man’s housekeeper. Uncle Arthur had invited Cade and his mother to dinner. She was still at Cade’s house getting ready. An event he’d decided not to wait on—she’d been at it since leaving the clinic that evening.
“She’ll get over it.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
His uncle set plates on the counter. “Yes, I do.”
“She’s changed a lot since you knew her well. She wants me to come back to Dallas immediately because Brijette works at the clinic.”
Arthur turned to him, resting his hip against the cabinet. “It doesn’t matter what your mother wants, this is the way things are at my clinic and she’ll have to live with it, unless you choose to go. You and your father have given in to her every whim until she thinks her life is supposed to be that way.”
Cade ran his finger along the edge of the counter. “That’s how my father wanted it.”
