Too Familiar (Fear Familiar Book 2)

by Carolyn Haines

Cassandra stood. “And if I have another vision, should I contact you?” The sarcasm was sharp in her tone.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Beaker stood, too. He was tall and thin. His sharp eyes watched Cassandra with a new speculation. “If you have any revelations about where the body might be, I’d be interested in hearing that, too.”

  “Of course.”

  Adam opened the door to the sheriff’s personal office, and he and Cassandra stepped into the main room. A dispatcher watched them with open curiosity.

  As Adam opened the outer door for Cassandra, he heard the woman question the sheriff. “Wasn’t that Sylvia McBeth’s daughter, that hermit who writes?” Adam shut the door as fast as possible, but he could tell that Cassandra had heard the question.

  “It’s okay,” she said and shrugged. “It’s part of the price of having a fortune teller for a mother.”

  “How about something to eat?” Adam could see the tension in Cassandra.

  “I’d better go home.”

  “Is there anyone who can stay with you?”

  Adam’s obvious concern was the final straw. She had no desire to appear like some pitiful half-wit scorned by her own community. Cassandra stiffened her spine. “I’m not a child, and I’m not a lunatic. I don’t need a babysitter. I want to go home, alone.”

  “This way,” Adam said as he steered her toward the car. Ms. McBeth was headstrong, and a bit surly, but he wasn’t ready to give up. Not by a long shot.

  Night had fallen, giving the mountain a solid blackness that made Adam think of the people who had carved a trail through the wilderness and settled the area. There was a savage beauty to the countryside around Sevierville. They’d had to drive to the county seat to talk with Beaker. As they drove back to Gatlinburg, silence filled the car.

  At times the road twisted and the shoulder fell away to empty space. Two or three lights winked far down the side of the drop-off, someone’s homestead in a meadow. It made him feel small, and very alone.

  They were turning up Cassandra’s drive before Adam spoke again. “Unless you can get someone else to stay with you, I am.” He wasn’t leaving her alone. The area was too isolated.

  “You’ll do no such thing.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Not in my home.”

  “In my car. I’m not leaving you alone on the side of this mountain. You believe a killer’s loose. You need some protection.” Adam felt his jaw muscles clench. She was a damn stubborn woman. He felt as if he’d fallen into a briar patch.

  “You believe me?”

  He swung his head to look at her. Her voice had such a plaintive note, he couldn’t help but stare. The truth of the matter was he hadn’t thought about what he believed or didn’t believe. The story she’d told Sheriff Beaker sounded like something out of a supermarket tabloid. Precognitive dreams, visions, murders. If the tale had come from anyone except the small, worried woman sitting beside him, he would have said that person had a rich fantasy life. But Cassandra—and he’d seen her in the throes of her nightmare, or seizure as she called it—wasn’t the kind to exaggerate or lie for effect.

  “I believe you believe it,” he said at last.

  “But you don’t believe it’s real.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know. I haven’t given a lot of thought to this kind of thing before. Off the cuff, I’d have to say I was a skeptic. That was before I saw you, though.”

  “Maybe I’m just a damn good actress.” Her temper flared and she couldn’t help it. Why was she concerned whether this man believed her or not? He was a businessman out to make a deal. Her sanity wasn’t up for him to judge.

  “Maybe,” Adam agreed. He cast her a devilish look. “If that’s the case, all the more reason you should do a commercial endorsing my cereal. If acting is your career goal, a commercial might help.”

  She felt like telling him to take a flying leap off the side of the mountain, but she held herself in check. It was only another mile to her door. Another few minutes and she’d send him packing. The only trouble was, she didn’t really want to stay alone. Maybe Running Stream would send Bounder over after all. The Indian woman was smart and sensitive. She often did the exact opposite of what Cassandra requested—she knew Cassandra’s heart and ignored her mouth.

  “Mr. Raleigh, you’ve been very kind.” She thought about the way he’d held her. “Much more than kind. I appreciate everything you’ve done, and if there was any way I could help you without betraying my own beliefs, I would. But I can’t. It would be best if you went back to Michigan.”

  “Best for you, or best for me?”

  In the glow of the headlights, Cassandra could see the last turn in the road to her cabin. “For both of us.” She was bone tired.

  “If you’ll call a friend, I’ll be glad to go.”

  She heard the finality in his voice and knew that further argument was useless. It was, after all, a smart request. She wasn’t certain if she could wake up again if she had another seizure. As much as she disliked the idea, she could call Running Stream.

  “Okay,” she agreed as Adam drove into her yard and cut the engine.

  Inside, Cassandra didn’t waste any time. She stopped only long enough to give the big black cat a friendly stroke before she picked up the telephone and dialed. A few seconds later, she was pressing the switch hook up and down. There was no dial tone.

  “Service is unreliable,” she admitted. “Lots of miles of line and lots of storms.” Uneasiness tingled the small of her back. Local teenagers sometimes sneaked up on her property, hoping for a glimpse of the “mountain witch.” Sometimes they committed small acts of vandalism. The idea of being alone, without a phone or a reliable car, was scary.

  “The local kids like to play pranks on me sometimes,” she said.

  “If you need me, I’ll be parked outside,” Adam said. “I know you don’t want me to stay, but I’m going to anyway. For my own peace of mind. Have a good sleep.”

  His hand was on the knob when he yelped and jumped back. “Wait a minute!” The cat’s claws dug sharply into his calf. “That blasted cat!”

  “Familiar!” Cassandra was shocked. “Stop that.”

  Familiar unhooked his claws one by one. He held his paw in midair, contemplated it a few seconds, and then began to clean it.

  “That animal has it in for me,” Adam said. “He attacked me on the sofa earlier.”

  Cassandra looked from the cat to Adam. “I think he’s trying to tell you to stay. It would seem that Familiar has more sense than either of us.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “I am a bit uncomfortable staying alone, Adam. It’s silly for you to sleep in the car when I have a guest room. Please stay.”

  Adam hid his victory grin. The cat was a pain in the neck, but he had perfect timing. The strange idea that he and Familiar were working together to protect Cassandra flitted through his mind. “I’ll get my things.” He looked at the cat. Familiar held his gaze, then slowly closed one eye.

  * * *

  Adam heard the rattle of the car engine and the slamming door before he was fully awake. He opened his eyes to the blast of morning sun that came in the window of his room. It was a room that perfectly reflected his hostess—quilts and handwoven rugs, polished antiques and the smell of fresh flowers. He closed his eyes and thought of Cassandra. She was a beautiful woman, in an odd sort of way. Her eyes. That’s what drew him to her. They were unusual in the depth of their honesty. She looked and didn’t flinch. Nor did she hide her own troubles. All of her emotions were there to see, reflected in the sky blueness.

  The sound of breaking glass had him out of bed and scrambling down the steep stairs from the guest room in the loft. “Cassandra?”

  There was no answer, and he hurried into the kitchen, heedless of his state of near undress. He was wearing only his pajama bottoms. The house seemed empty, and he ran to the front porch. He was out the screen door before he saw the sheriff’s car.

  Cassandra was holding on to the porch railing as
she talked with the lawman. Pieces of a broken water glass were around her bare feet, and she ignored them. Both she and the sheriff turned as he came out the door.

  “Mr. Raleigh,” Sheriff Beaker nodded. He glanced knowingly at Adam’s bare chest.

  “Sheriff,” he said, but his concern was for Cassandra. She was pale and obviously holding on to the railing for support.

  “They found Carla Winchester’s body. In a ravine. She was strangled,” Cassandra said slowly. “The sheriff wants to know where I was night before last.”

  “And I’d like to know your whereabouts, too,” Beaker said as he stared at Adam. “I didn’t realize you and Ms. McBeth were such good friends.” He said the last word with a twist. “I got the impression you’d only met yesterday.”

  Adam went to Cassandra and bent to pick up the broken glass before she stepped on it. “I was in Knoxville at the Marriott. I checked out about eleven a.m. and started driving this way.”

  “I’m sure the hotel can verify that.”

  “I’m sure they can.” Adam had the big pieces of glass gathered in his hand. He stood up and went to the edge of the porch. “Ms. McBeth went to your office trying to help. Why do I get the impression that you’re accusing her of something?”

  Beaker didn’t move. “Maybe not her. Maybe you.”

  Cassandra’s hand on Adam’s arm was light, almost fluttery. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “He’s only doing what he has to do. I know too much about the murder. I described it perfectly, didn’t I? Carla Winchester was strangled from behind. The fingers pressed into her throat, just to the side and below the larynx. She struggled, going down on one knee in the gravel as she tried to get away. One hand clawed his face. There was tissue beneath the nails of her right hand, wasn’t there? That would mean the scratches are on the right side of his face.”

  Both men were staring at her in fascination.

  “Where did you find the body?” Cassandra asked.

  “A hiker found it on a trail in a shallow ravine. It had been covered with brush.”

  “She wasn’t killed there,” Cassandra said. “It was somewhere with a view. High up.”

  “Ms. McBeth, if you’re withholding anything, you could be charged as an accessory to murder.” Beaker’s hand had moved to his gun belt, where it hung loosely beside the grip of his gun.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Ms. McBeth went to your office voluntarily,” Adam interjected.

  “Where did you get those claw marks on your face?” the sheriff countered.

  Adam touched the traces of the scratches Cassandra had given him. Since he hadn’t shaved yet, he’d forgotten about them.

  “When I was dreaming yesterday I accidentally scratched Mr. Raleigh,” Cassandra said. “Those marks were made from the front, with my left hand.” She held out her hand to show the short, well-cared-for nails.

  “And where were you night before last?” Beaker asked her.

  “Here. Alone.”

  “No alibi?”

  She shook her head. “None.”

  “I thought Mr. Raleigh might say you were in Knoxville with him.” Beaker let the accusation hang in the air.

  “We weren’t acquainted until yesterday,” Cassandra said with complete dignity.

  “Don’t leave the area,” Beaker said as he turned back to his car. “Either of you.”

  Adam and Cassandra watched the sheriff walk away. He got into his car, pulled around, and left in a cloud of dust.

  “He thinks you’re involved in this,” Adam said with amazement. “He really believes you did something wrong.”

  “I am involved,” Cassandra said slowly. “Unfortunately, you are, too.”

  * * *

  cassandra examined the spoonful of cereal. She knew Adam was watching her as she lifted it to her mouth. Adam and a very interested black cat. She took the bite. It was crisp, not sticky sweet. She could detect the subtle flavors of the grains. Bits of dried apple gave it a naturally sweet taste.

  “Well?” Adam prodded.

  “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” The cereal was good. And if Adam’s claims about the ingredients were true, it was a healthy cereal. It was just the idea of dry cold cereal that made her cringe. All of those innocent children munching down on Sugar Puffs with marshmallows and goo. The idea of what cereal had become was what she rejected. How could she make Adam understand?

  “It’s a good product,” he said. “If children would eat Good Stuff....”

  “But they won’t. Given a choice, they’ll take the candy coated junk, and by marketing a product like Good Stuff, you encourage parents to buy cereal.”

  “I’m giving them a choice, Cassandra. A healthy product over things that are bad for their children.”

  “Adam, I tried your cereal. Now I have work to do on a book. I appreciate everything you’ve done, all the trouble I’ve caused you. But it’s time for you to go.” She picked up Familiar and held him in her lap as she checked his wound. The gash had begun to heal, and with the application of her herbal remedies, even the scar would be minimized. He’d taken the bandage off as soon as she’d put it on, and luckily, it wasn’t necessary anymore.

  “What about tonight?”

  “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m not afraid. I’m home. The phone service will be repaired. I’ll be fine.”

  “I mean, would you have dinner with me?” Adam picked up the box of cereal and put it on the counter, out of sight. “No business, no pressure. Just dinner. I’ll pick you up and bring you home. That way I can check around your house and make sure you’re okay.”

  “Don’t you have a life in Michigan? I mean, shouldn’t you get back to your company?” Cassandra got up and put a bowl of milk on the floor for Familiar. The black cat settled down to a leisurely breakfast. Adam disconcerted her. He’d moved from a professional to a personal plane in one giant step. Did she want him to stay around? She honestly didn’t know, and that troubled her.

  “I haven’t had a vacation in five years. I think I can afford to stay around a day or two and learn about the Smokies. I was hoping you might show me some of your plants.”

  Cassandra felt the pull of conflict. Adam was adept at putting pressure on her, and she didn’t like it. He made everything he said sound so reasonable. Yet, she found his company very pleasurable. He’d been a perfect gentleman in her home, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her heart jump. He was a handsome man. When he’d walked out the front door clad only in his pajama bottoms, she hadn’t reacted, but her mind had registered the image. Lean torso with a light covering of brown hair on his chest. She remembered the feel of that chest as he’d held her. It was strong and gave her a sense of security.

  Even more important, he didn’t flinch. He’d taken everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours and none of it had rattled him. He was remarkable. It crossed her mind that she liked him more than she should. He was passing through her life, a man who’d come on an errand and would leave as soon as he realized he wouldn’t get what he’d come for.

  “In your third book, you write about a meadow not far from your house. I was hoping we could go there.”

  “We can.” She looked at him, pleased by the open enthusiasm he had for life. He did know a lot about her writing and her ideas. What would it hurt to take a walk with him? “We can go now. In fact, let me pack a picnic, and we’ll have lunch there.” The truth was, she didn’t want him to leave. There was something about Adam that attracted her. If she were being honest with herself, and she tried to be at all times, she wanted him to stay.

  They talked about herbs, spices and natural medicines as Cassandra packed a picnic lunch. Adam did indeed know about natural foods and medicines. As they talked, she picked up tidbits about his past that intrigued her more and more.

  The son of a corporate banker, Adam had rejected a handpicked invitation to work at a large bank and started his own company. Good Stuff was small compare
d to the larger food companies. The breakfast cereal was their first product, but Adam was ready to expand. In the past few years, Adam had fought off several attempts at leveraged buyouts. He was determined to keep Good Stuff small and accountable.

  When the basket was packed, Cassandra held the door open for Familiar. “Coming with us?” she asked.

  “Cats don’t go for walks,” Adam told her. “Cats are notoriously arrogant and never do anything like go for a walk.”

  “Meow,” Familiar said on a throaty purr as he walked out the open door and went to the steps to wait for them.

  “Familiar isn’t an ordinary cat,” Cassandra reminded him with a smile. “Don’t ever underestimate him. He has some uncanny powers.”

  “Like you?” Adam teased.

  “I’m not certain.” Cassandra’s brow was slightly furrowed. “Maybe not exactly like me, but Familiar’s smart, and he knows a lot more than anyone thinks possible. Maybe all cats do.”

  “Meow,” Familiar said, looking up at her. “Meow.” He led the way down the steps and toward the meadow.

  “See,” Cassandra laughed. “We’d better hurry and catch up.”

  As they left the cabin behind, Cassandra pointed out the many different types of trees and wildflowers.

  “Spring hits here suddenly. One day the land is gray, the next, tiny green buds are showing, and then the next day, it’s spring.”

  “I’ve spent too long at my desk.” Adam looked around him and sighed. The beauty of the mountains made him want to forget his work. For a split second he entertained the thought of moving. A cabin tucked high on the side of a mountain, like Cassandra’s. Rich meadows and orchards around him. What would he do? He’d always dreamed of using his knowledge of herbs to make natural medicines. Cassandra wrote about cures and remedies handed down for generations. He wanted to make the actual salves and medicines. His cereal company was one aspect of that desire—healthy foods. But there was so much more he wanted to do.

  “This orchard has been in my family for generations,” Cassandra said as they walked. Her voice, naturally husky, deepened even more. “Like any other piece of ground, it continues when those who love it die.”