by Diane Capri
Gavin waited for him to catch up.
“After you, Mr. Archibald.” He held the door open.
“Oh, please call me Clarence.”
“All right, but only if you agree to call me Gavin.”
“It’s a deal.”
Leslie’s Café could have been any small town café in America. Gavin smiled at the red-checkered tablecloths. It seemed that nothing much changed from town to town. The café was filling up with the breakfast crowd as he followed Clarence to a small booth near the windows.
“I hope you don’t mind my barging in, but I’ve been a fan of yours for years.”
“Well, I have to say Mr.—Clarence, you seem to be the only fan I’ve met since I arrived here.”
“Oh, they’re a good bunch. Little standoffish at first, but they’ll come around. I can heartily recommend the biscuits and gravy.”
Gavin felt his mouth watering from the delicious smells wafting in from the kitchen. Biscuits and gravy sounded good, along with bacon, sausage, eggs and lots of coffee.
Clarence laughed heartily as Gavin gave his order to the waitress. “Been a while since you ate, son?”
Gavin grinned, “Been a while since I wanted to. Everything here smells delicious.”
Gavin studied the man in front of him. Late sixties, possibly early seventies. He’d felt the strength in his grip and wasn’t fooled by the gleam in the vivid blue eyes. This man had been places, seen things. A keen intelligence lay behind the twinkle, and Gavin wondered who would be picking whose brain over breakfast.
“So, Clarence, how long have you been here?”
“Oh, I’ve only been here about three months. Bought the flower shop down on Main. Decided there was enough ugliness in the world and wanted to spend my remaining days creating something beautiful. You’ll have to drop by, see my butterfly garden.”
Gavin nodded, lost in his own thoughts. He knew all about ugliness in the world. That’s why he was here.
“How about you, son? What brings you to Glade Springs?”
Clarence hadn’t wasted any time getting right down to the real issues.
“Sheriff put you up to asking me that question?” Gavin’s voice turned cold.
Clarence looked offended. “I wouldn’t have asked it if she had. Don’t take kindly to people asking me to nose into other people’s business. Just making small talk. Forget I asked.”
“In that case, I apologize.”
“Accepted.” Clarence returned to his biscuits and gravy, and the two sat in silence as they enjoyed their meals.
“You said you’d just finished Pool of Tears. What did you think?”
“Not your best work, but still a good novel. Sacred Secrets was my favorite.”
Gavin smiled. Sacred Secrets had also been his favorite.
“Tell me, do you really dig up people’s secrets the way they say you do?”
This time Gavin laughed out loud. “Are you hiding something, Clarence?”
“Me? I’m an open book.” The dancing lights glimmering in the blue eyes told a different story.
Gavin laughed again. He was beginning to like the old man. He felt good for the first time in days. There was always something refreshing about honesty.
“Do you promise not to tell? I mean, if the truth got out, it could ruin my reputation.”
“Scout’s honor.” Clarence grinned at him conspiratorially, eyes twinkling.
Gavin was about to reply when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a middle aged woman standing by his chair. Her face was haggard, dark circles rimmed the violet eyes. Eyes that held a sadness he’d seen too recently reflected in his own mirror. A sadness he still saw each time he looked at Rob. This woman had recently lost someone she loved.
“Mr. McAllister?”
“Yes, I’m Gavin McAllister.”
“My name is Morgana Nelson. My daughter was recently killed.”
“I heard about Johanna’s accident, Mrs. Nelson. I’m sorry.” Gavin knew the words would bring her no comfort.
“Then you’ll help me?”
Gavin frowned. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Nelson, I don’t know what I could do.”
“I want you to find out who killed my daughter.” The words were spoken softly, but the grip of the hand on his shoulder became increasingly painful.
Gavin searched the face of the woman beside him. This was the second time in less than a day that someone had suggested that Johanna Nelson’s death was not an accident.
“Let’s go, honey, you can’t be bothering Mr. McAllister.” Gavin met the tortured gaze of the man who’d approached them, as he gently removed the clutching hand from Gavin’s shoulder and pulled the distraught woman safely into his embrace. “I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister. Johanna was our only child. It’s been really tough.”
Gavin nodded, unable to find words. He watched as the husband led the sobbing woman from the café. Tough was an understatement. He met Clarence’s eyes across the small table, seeing the understanding and compassion there.
“Get a lot of that when you visit a new town?”
“Yeah.”
They finished their meal in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.
#
“You look like crap, Sarah.”
“Thanks, Joshua, just what every woman wants to hear when she walks into the office. Where’s Ella Mae?”
“Called in sick. Said she fell last night and woke up stiff and sore this morning. I may run out there later on, see how she’s doing.”
“They bought the old Sampson place, didn’t they?” Sarah grimaced as she sniffed the coffee. Too strong.
Joshua nodded, his thoughts elsewhere.
“I think checking on her is a good idea. Tell her to get well quick. We need her here. I don’t want to have to get used to your coffee again.” Sarah grinned at him. She knew he was worried about Ella Mae. Maybe she needed to have a talk with Philip Thomas.
Closing the door to her office, Sarah sighed heavily. It was only nine o’clock, and yet it seemed the day had gone on forever. She rubbed her aching eyes. She hadn’t slept well, and this time it wasn’t the dreams. She’d brought Nikki back to Millie’s. For some reason she couldn’t explain, and didn’t want to look at too closely, she wanted her near. Taking a drink of the strong coffee she grimaced again. Ella Mae had spoiled her.
Joshua stuck his head in the door and grinned. “I’m making a fresh pot. You look as if you could use it.”
Sarah nodded and motioned him to sit down. “You must be psychic. You told me I wasn’t going to sleep well after McAllister got here.”
Joshua laughed, “It doesn’t take a psychic to know that no law official sleeps well when G. C. McAllister is in town. Have you met him yet?”
Sarah nodded.
“So, what’d you think?”
Sarah knew Joshua was watching her intently, looking for a reaction. She shrugged.
“Hey, Sarah, it’s me, okay? I’ve worked for you the past three years. Surely you don’t think I bought all that woman’s intuition crap you throw around. You feel things or know things. I don’t know, and as long as it helps us, I don’t give a damn. So, what’s G. C. McAllister doing in Glade Springs?”
Sarah weighed what he’d said. She’d been treading water for a long time. Sarah felt like a drowning victim, going down for the third time. She needed a lifeline.
“I don’t know. He’s looking into Johanna’s death, but I don’t think he’s looking for a story. At least not one he intends to write about. There’s a lot of rage inside Gavin McAllister. And something else, something very sad.”
“Any clue about what he’s looking for?” Joshua didn’t for one minute doubt Sarah’s assessment. If she didn’t think McAllister was here for a story, then he wasn’t here for a story.
“He’s looking for something, or someone.” Sarah hesitated. “Joshua, I don’t think Johanna was alone the night she wrecked.”
Joshua nodded. He’d suspected as much himself
. “Makes more sense.”
Sarah hesitated again. After all it was only a hunch. She didn’t have any proof at all, except her dreams. “There’s something else that bothers me, Joshua. I think Corrine Larson may have been here, in Glade Springs.”
Joshua frowned, searching his memory. “The journalist killed in Richmond?”
Sarah nodded.
“Wouldn’t somebody have seen her? I mean, somebody had to see her if she was here.”
“What if she came in late and Johanna checked her in? What if Johanna was the only one who knew she was here?”
Joshua jumped to his feet, startled. “Good Lord, Sarah, do you know what you’re saying?”
Sarah nodded, rubbing her aching temples. “I’m saying we may have a killer in Glade Springs.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Good Lord, Mary, she said she fell. She doesn’t have the flu.” Joshua watched impatiently as his wife continued to pack items of food for Ella Mae. The conversation with Sarah earlier had left him on edge. He wanted to get out to Ella Mae’s and back to town as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to leave Mary alone after dark.
“Oh, that’s right. Wait just a minute.” Mary disappeared into the bedroom returning with a small jar of odd-looking gel.
“Grandpa’s liniment. Works wonders for sore muscles.”
“Yeah, and smells like a polecat.”
“Joshua Cross, you keep a respectful tongue in your head about my grandpa.”
Joshua grinned, catching her as she huffed by him. “I love your grandpa. After all, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have you,” he whispered as he ran his hand gently over the swell of her stomach. “Sure you don’t want to go with me?”
Mary smiled up at her husband, locking both arms around his neck. “I wish I could. Doc says not to take any chances, and the road to the old Sampson place is pretty rocky.”
Joshua nodded, holding her close. She’d had two miscarriages in the past three years. This time they weren’t going to take any chances.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. How about dinner at the café?”
Mary smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
#
It was getting dark, but Joshua continued driving, hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. Mary would worry, but dammit, he couldn’t go home yet. Not this way. Why? Why the hell did women feel they had to protect the cowardly bastards?
The memory of Ella Mae’s bruised and swollen face still burned inside him. She’d fallen all right. The same way his mother had fallen time and time again. Emotions washed over him. Rage, hate, love and guilt. He’d felt no remorse when his father died. He hadn’t killed him, though God knows he’d wanted to many times. But then he hadn’t tried to save him either. It had taken every ounce of his eight-year-old strength to drag his mother’s body from the burning car.
Pulling the Jeep to the side of the road, he cut the engine and rested his head on his hands. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. She’d died in his arms as he sat there watching the car go up in flames.
A heavy sadness descended upon him. He wouldn’t be able to save Ella Mae either—not unless she wanted to be saved.
Joshua relaxed his hands on the steering wheel, turning his thoughts to Mary and the child growing inside her. His child would never know the pain he’d had to grow up with. Never know the fear. Love flowed through him, chasing away the last of his rage. It was too late for dinner at the café, but he’d make it up to Mary. It was time he went home.
#
Gavin threw off the covers and stumbled to the bathroom to splash cold water over his face. What the hell had he just seen?
He examined his hands, expecting to see them covered in blood as they had been in the dream. His heart beat erratically, still caught up in the need to run as fast as he could. Nikki was out there, somewhere in the night. The killer was stalking her, getting closer with each ragged breath Gavin took. He didn’t know whose body he had stumbled over. He hadn’t recognized the man, but the face had changed and he was holding Rob, trying to stem the blood flowing from his chest.
He stared at his hands again, just as he’d done in the dream. There were bodies everywhere. Small bodies of children. Rob, Carl, people he’d never seen before. There was blood everywhere. He’d seen Cory then, just outside the circle of bodies. Hurry, Gavin. You have to hurry. Please protect her.
Drying his face, he avoided meeting his eyes in the mirror, afraid of what he would see there. Returning to the bedroom, he sat down heavily on the bed. At least now he knew who she had sent him here to protect. Nikki. Placing his head in his hands, he saw an image of the bodies strewn about. “Cory, what the hell did you stumble into?” he groaned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The soft gray light of dawn filtered through the kitchen window as Sarah sat, gripping the mug of coffee as if it could somehow ward off the darkness surrounding her. She couldn’t remember how long she’d sat there but knew she’d slept only a few minutes before the dreams woke her. Someone was going to die.
A glimmer of light glowed softly near the door, and Sarah felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as the shape slowly took form. She recognized Corrine Larson from the pictures. The young woman held out her hands.
You have to stop him, Sarah, before he kills again.
Sarah gripped the mug tighter, her voice trembling. “Stop who? Who am I looking for?”
The figure shimmered, a sad wistful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. You know.
Sarah watched as the light dimmed and the figure slowly faded. The words echoing in the room. You know. You know. You know.
No, it couldn’t be him. They would have told her if he was out.
She had to know. Fingers shaking, she flipped through the address book until she found the number. It was only four a.m., but he would understand. She prayed silently as the phone rang for the third time, “Please be there.”
“Jones.”
“Captain, it’s Sarah.”
“Sarah, it’s four in the morning. What’s wrong?”
“Just tell me if he’s still in jail. Please.” She knew her voice sounded desperate, but she felt desperate. She heard the deep sigh on the other end of the phone.
“He’s still in jail, Sarah. I’m to be notified immediately if he’s released. I told you, Sarah, you’re safe there, honey. Don’t worry about Williams. If he gets out, I’ll take care of him.”
Sarah felt the air rush from her lungs, realizing she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Any time, Sarah. You call me any time.”
Replacing the receiver, she noticed the trembling in her hands, the wetness on her face. Fear. She was actually trembling in fear. “Damn you, Todd Williams.”
Refilling her coffee mug, Sarah sat down at the kitchen table. Her eyes focused blindly on the soft gray light. The words continued to echo in her mind as tears streamed down her face. You know.
#
Gavin entered the sheriff’s office with some trepidation. It went against his grain to ask for or offer help to local officials. He’d been breaking his rules ever since he arrived. Getting involved. He wasn’t here to get involved in the death of Johanna Nelson, unless it had something to do with Cory. Still, the dreams last night had left him shaken, and the pained face of the father and sobs of the mother had haunted him. Those poor people needed answers. No, they needed closure. Johanna needed closure.
“Can I help you?”
Gavin studied the face of the young woman behind the counter. Heavy makeup did little to conceal the bruises around her eyes, the cut and swollen lip. Not his business. He didn’t have the time, and it just wasn’t any of his business. Not this time.
“Yes, I’m Gavin McAllister. I’d like to talk to Sheriff Burns, please.”
“She’s in her office.” Ella Mae nodded toward the hall.
“Thank you.” Gavin followed the nod to the closed door down the hall,
but found himself hesitating at the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
“Come in.”
Once again he was awed by her quiet beauty. She looked as tired as he felt, but more than anything she looked soft and womanly, her eyes gentle, arms wrapped around the child on her lap. Shock registered, making her eyes darken as she met his gaze across the desk.
“Mr. McAllister.”
Nikki glanced up and smiled. “I’m drawing a ballerina.”
Something ached deep inside Gavin as he watched the two of them. Something he didn’t have the time or energy to analyze.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
“Nikki, why don’t you go show Ella Mae your ballerina. I’ll be ready in just a minute.”
“Okie, dokie.” Nikki smiled up at Gavin as she left. “We’re going to the park. Do you want to come?”
Gavin knelt to answer her, surprised when the tiny arms reached out and wrapped around his neck.
“Nikki …”
He heard the panic in Sarah’s voice.
“Maybe next time,” he whispered as he disengaged himself and watched as she bounced happily down the hall.
“She doesn’t normally do that with strangers.”
“We met at the bookstore. I guess she doesn’t consider me quite a stranger.”
“Still, she knows she isn’t supposed to…” Sarah stopped. She didn’t want to discuss her daughter with Gavin McAllister. “Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”
Gavin sat, taking her cue. All business now.
“The day I got here, the young girl at The Lodge told me she didn’t think Johanna Nelson’s death was an accident.”
Sarah frowned. “Marisa Hutchins?”
“I guess. I know her name is Marisa.”
Sarah nodded and waited for him to continue.
“Yesterday morning at the café, Mrs. Nelson approached me and asked me to help her find out who killed her daughter.”
Sarah sat up straighter. She hadn’t been aware that the Nelsons thought their daughter had been killed.
“I don’t want to get involved in this. Maybe you could talk to them.”
