LAST SEEN...

by Carla Cassidy

  Prickly. Adam thought. Or maybe it wasn't the best thing to tell a woman she made a perfect streetwalker. Maybe his people skills were rustier than he thought.

  He decided the best thing to do was to keep quiet and turned his head to look out the window. They had left the outskirts of Cherokee Corners proper and were passing the Cultural Center and village.

  "If you're interested in Cherokee culture, this is the place to spend your time," she said, her voice holding none of the coolness it had moments before.

  "That's where my grandma works," Maggie said. "We go there lots of times and do dances and have fun."

  "There is something going on there almost every day during the summer months," Breanna explained. "My mother thinks it's very important to continue to educate people about the Cherokee ways."

  "Your father is Cherokee, too?" Adam asked.

  Breanna laughed. "No. Dad is one hundred percent fighting Irish, as proud of his heritage as Mother is of hers."

  "Must have made interesting supper conversations."

  It was obvious speaking about her parents put her at ease. She smiled and nodded. "You don't know the half of it. Both of them are stubborn, passionate people. I should probably warn you. We rarely get through one of these family gatherings without an explosion of fireworks between them, but the fireworks rarely last long."

  She pulled down a dirt lane that led to a rambling ranch house. There was not another house in sight in any direction. Cars in a variety of shapes and sizes clogged the circular driveway in front of the house.

  She parked the car and turned to Adam. "Do you come from a large family?"

  "No. My parents died when I was eleven and I was raised by an aunt and uncle. That is pretty much the extent of my family."

  Her dark eyes flashed with a flicker of sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. My aunt and uncle are kind, loving people."

  "That's good. But I just wanted to warn you that my family is big and loud and might be quite overwhelming to somebody unaccustomed to big family gatherings."

  "Mommy, let's go!" Maggie said plaintively from the back seat.

  "Yes, let's go," Breanna agreed and opened her car door. "It looks like most of the gang have already arrived."

  It took them only moments to get out of the car and walk down the driveway to the house. Breanna opened the door and they entered a large living room.

  Adam's first impression was one of warmth and comfort. It was obvious this room, decorated in earth tones, was the heart of the house. The walls held Native American artwork, all with the common theme of Indians and bears.

  "They're all the work of a local artist. Her name is Tamara Greystone. She's a teacher at the high school," Breanna explained. "You might want to look her up … you know, share techniques or whatever."

  "I might just do that," he replied, although he had no intention of sharing "techniques" with an artist, who would see through his false claim with ease.

  Maggie danced ahead of them and out a sliding glass door. Breanna motioned for Adam to follow her outside.

  Nothing Breanna had told him had prepared him for the cacophony of sound coming from the throng of people on the large patio. Breanna had mentioned an older brother and sister, but it was obvious this gathering was bigger than immediate family members only.

  He saw Rita James standing with a group of people around the large, brick barbecue. Her gaze caught his and she immediately left the group and approached him and Breanna with a warm smile.

  She grabbed his hands in hers. "Adam, I'm so glad you came."

  "I appreciate you inviting me," he replied.

  She released his hands and smiled at her daughter. "Breanna, why don't you take Adam around and introduce him to everyone."

  "All right," she agreed easily.

  Over the next few minutes Adam was introduced to enough people that his head spun, trying to remember names and faces. He was introduced to Thomas James, Breanna's father, a tall man with graying red hair and bright blue eyes.

  He stood duty over the racks of ribs that sizzled on the barbecue grill. He greeted Adam with a firm handshake and exuded a vigor and energy that belied his age.

  Adam was then introduced to Jacob Kincaid, an older man who was Thomas's best friend and the president of the largest bank in Cherokee Corners.

  "Jacob is our resident collector," Breanna said. "His house is filled with antiques to die for and he has a wonderful art collection and some of the most exquisite Fabergé eggs you'd ever want to see."

  Jacob smiled at Breanna with obvious affection. "I certainly hope Mr. Spencer isn't a cat burglar because if he is, you've just given him a road map to the riches in town."

  "Oh, and did I mention his state-of-the-art security system?" Breanna added and both men laughed. After visiting a few minutes with the banker, Breanna excused them and led Adam to a woman seated in a lawn chair. He instantly knew it was Breanna's sister.

  The two women looked remarkably alike, except that Savannah's dark, glossy hair was cut short. That, coupled with a profound sadness in her eyes, gave her a look of intense vulnerability. Although she was pleasant, Adam found Breanna far more interesting.

  He told himself his only interest was the fact that his life and hers would forever be bound by the child she'd had … Kurt's child.

  After they visited with Savannah for a few minutes, Adam was introduced to Breanna's brother, Clay. Clay had brooding good looks, his eyes radiating the intensity of a driven man. Although friendly, he seemed distracted, as if he found his inner thoughts more interesting than those of others.

  Breanna introduced him to cousins and aunts and uncles and more friends of the family. It was easy to see that the James family was not only well liked in the town, but also highly respected.

  "There's one more person I have to introduce you to," Breanna said, "then it probably won't be long before we eat and you can visit with whomever you please." She led him to another pretty young woman who sat slightly alone on a stone bench surrounded by early blooming spring flowers.

  "This is my cousin, Alyssa Whitefeather. Alyssa, this is my new neighbor, Adam Spencer."

  Alyssa stood and offered her hand to Adam. "Hello, Mr. Spencer."

  Adam took her hand in his and started to return the greeting, but before he could say a word, Alyssa's blue eyes rolled upward and she collapsed in Adam's arms.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  «^»

  Breanna sat on a chair next to her parents' bed where Alyssa lay pale as a ghost against the dark blue bedspread. Adam had carried her in here, then Breanna had shooed everyone out of the room and closed the door.

  She knew the family would return to their activities. Over the years they had all become accustomed to Alyssa's occasional "spells" and knew she would be unconscious for a few minutes, then would awaken and be fine.

  What Breanna wanted to know was what had brought on this particular spell? Had it been the touch of Adam's hand? And if that had been it, then what had her cousin "seen"?

  She knew there was no point in trying to rouse Alyssa. She'd awaken when she was ready and nothing Breanna did or said would bring her around sooner.

  Minutes ticked by, indicated by the tick-tock of the old schoolhouse clock on the wall. It was a sound as familiar as Breanna's mother's heartbeat. Many early mornings, the James's bed had been filled with her parents and the kids, greeting the day with soft talk, giggles and the rhythmic beating of that clock.

  Breanna leaned forward as Alyssa released a soft, audible sigh. Her eyes fluttered open and shut … open and shut, then remained open.

  "Hi."

  Alyssa sat up and looked around as if to orient herself. "Hi."

  "Are you okay?" Breanna frowned with concern. Usually when Alyssa came out of one of these spells, she appeared refreshed and alert. This time she appeared fragile and her hand shook as she worried it through a strand of her brown hair.

  She hesitated a moment, then nodd
ed. "I'm fine." Once again she swept a strand of her hair behind her ear and frowned. "I haven't done that in quite some time."

  "What brought it on? Anything specific? Was it my neighbor?"

  Alyssa's frown deepened. "No … I don't think so." Her blue eyes were troubled as she gazed at Breanna. "I felt something dark … something evil from the moment I stepped into the house today." She placed a hand over her heart. "I have a horrible feeling of dread and I don't know what's causing it."

  "Have you seen anything?" Breanna asked, referring to the various visions Alyssa had suffered with since she was a small child.

  "Blackness. Just blackness." She shivered. "I've never had anything like this before." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and drew a deep breath. "Whenever I've had a vision in the past, it's always been like watching a snippet of a movie in my head. But not this time. This time there was just the blackness and a sense of horror like I've never experienced before."

  A slight chill worked up Breanna's spine. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  Alyssa drew another deep breath, then offered a tentative smile. "I'm fine, just a little bit embarrassed. I can't imagine what your poor neighbor thinks. You introduce me to him and I faint in his arms."

  Breanna offered her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll tell him you're hypoglycemic and just needed a little sugar boost."

  Alyssa leaned across and grabbed Breanna's hand. "Don't look so worried. My feelings and visions don't always mean anything. Stress sometimes triggers an event and things have been really crazy down at the bed-and-breakfast."

  Alyssa owned and operated a bed-and-breakfast on the square, along with an ice-cream parlor that was a favorite gathering place.

  She stood and released Breanna's hand. "Now, we better get back to the party before we miss all the good food."

  Breanna stood as well and opened the door, then stumbled into the solid chest of Adam. Worried blue eyes gazed at her as he grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. "Is everything all right?" His gaze moved from her to Alyssa, who stood just behind her.

  "Everything is fine, Mr. Spencer," Alyssa assured him and he dropped his hands from Breanna's shoulders. "I should apologize. I don't normally faint when introduced to a new person. I'm afraid I haven't been eating right and…" She allowed her voice to trail off.

  "And it's done and over," Breanna said firmly. "Why don't we all rejoin the party. I'm sure they're probably serving up the food now." As she moved past Adam in the hallway, she smelled his cologne, a woodsy, masculine scent that stirred something feminine in her.

  It irritated her, how this man affected her on some primal level that had nothing to do with intellect and everything to do with sex appeal.

  As the three of them walked through the house and out the sliding glass doors to the backyard, she decided she had done her duty and introduced him to everyone. He was now on his own for the remainder of the day.

  Sure enough, the food was being served and Breanna left Adam in search of her daughter. She found her sitting on her Aunt Savannah's lap.

  "Hey, sweetie. Why don't you go get yourself a plate of food and let me visit with Aunt Savannah for a minute."

  "I'm starving," Maggie exclaimed as she jumped down from Savannah's lap. "Bye, Aunt Savannah, we'll talk more after I eat."

  "It's a deal," Savannah replied, the darkness in her eyes momentarily lifted as she smiled at Maggie.

  "How are you doing, sis?" Breanna asked as Maggie scampered away.

  "Good," Savannah replied, but the sadness in her eyes that had been present for the past year was an indicator to Breanna that the heartache of losing Jimmy still consumed her.

  "You look tired. Are you working too many hours?" Breanna asked. The entire family had been after Savannah to take some time off, to get away from the misery of seeing murders up close and personal.

  Savannah shrugged. "It's been a long week.

  "Still no break in the Maxwell murder?"

  "Nothing. Poor man is found naked and dead in front of the public library. Clay has been pulling out his hair because the crime scene was contaminated by dozens of gawkers and we've all been stymied by the fact that Greg Maxwell seemed to be loved by everyone who knew him."

  "Something will break. It always does," Breanna said.

  "Your new neighbor seems very nice," Savannah said.

  Breanna looked over to the patio where Adam was talking to her father. The khaki slacks Adam wore hugged his slender hips and long legs and the short-sleeved dress shirt emphasized the width of his chest and the muscles of his biceps. "I guess. I really don't know him that well. It was Mother who invited him."

  Savannah smiled. "Big surprise. She's always inviting strays home."

  Breanna looked back over to Adam. He didn't seem like a stray. In her brief acquaintance with him, he appeared to be a man who knew exactly who he was and where he was going. There was a quiet confidence about him she found intriguing, despite the fact that she had no intention of developing any kind of a relationship other than that of good neighbors.

  "Come and get a plate," Breanna said and pulled her sister to her feet. Breanna fixed herself a plate and joined her daughter at one of the picnic tables that were scattered across the backyard.

  "Aunt Savannah said maybe she'll take me to a movie next week," Maggie said.

  "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Breanna replied.

  "I like the movies." Maggie grabbed the little horse on her necklace. "I think Thunder would like them, too."

  "Mind if I join you?" Adam stood next to the picnic table, his plate in hand.

  Breanna wanted to tell him to go sit someplace else, but of course she didn't. "Not at all." She wondered exactly what it was about him that set her so on edge.

  He scooted onto the bench next to her, their shoulders bumping as his scent filled her head.

  She knew then why he set her on edge, made her uncomfortable and wary. Something about the way he affected her reminded her of those first few weeks with Kurt. Adam Spencer made her feel that same rush of heat, a lick of lust that she'd never felt before Kurt … or since … until now.

  Kurt had been a disastrous mistake and so it was only natural that a man who stirred the same kind of feelings would evoke a defensive wariness in her.

  "You have a wonderful family," he said.

  "They are very special," Breanna replied. "I'm not sure what I would have done without them in the past five years. Being a single parent isn't easy."

  "I imagine not." He frowned and focused on his food.

  "What about you? Do you eventually want a wife and children?" She assumed he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Didn't most men of that age start to think about creating families?

  "Not me," he said firmly. "I much prefer to be footloose and fancy-free."

  "Your foot is loose?" Maggie eyed him with a touch of childish honor. "Does it hurt?"

  "No, honey, my foot isn't really loose. That's just an expression." Adam smiled at Maggie. "My feet work just fine."

  "Rabbits' feet are good," Maggie said after a moment of thought. "And frogs' feet. They help jump … jump … jump."

  As Adam and Maggie engaged in a conversation about various animals and their feet, Breanna couldn't help but think it was a shame Adam had no intentions of becoming a father.

  He showed a natural ease with Maggie, not talking down to her or at her, but rather with her. Maybe he's just on his best behavior and being kind and patient to the granddaughter of his host and hostess, she thought. That was the socially correct thing to do.

  She was relieved when Savannah and Jacob Kincaid joined them at the table.

  It was dusk when Breanna drove them back home. Maggie, overwhelmed by the food, fresh air and play, immediately fell asleep in the back seat.

  "Thank you for letting me ride with you today," Adam said as they pulled out of the James's driveway.

  "No problem," she replied.

  "I noticed an old grill in the shed
behind the cottage. If I get it out and clean it up, maybe you and Maggie could join me for hamburgers one evening next week."

  Now was the time to draw boundaries, Breanna thought. For the time that he was renting the cottage they would share a backyard, but she had no intention of being anything more than nodding-acquaintance-type neighbors.

  "Thanks, but we usually keep pretty busy between my schedule and Rachel's."

  "Rachel?" In the glow of twilight his eyes appeared more silver than blue.

  "Rachel is my live-in nanny," Breanna explained. "She has been my helping hand ever since I hired her two years ago."

  "Must have been hard to find somebody to trust to live in your home and caretake for your child," he observed.

  "Rachel was special from the first moment I met her. She came into the police department to file a complaint against an old boyfriend who was stalking her. I took the complaint and could immediately tell she was bright, good-hearted but had made the mistake of hooking up with the wrong kind of man." Breanna turned into her driveway, shut off the car engine then turned to Adam. "Having made that mistake myself, I instantly empathized with her."

  "What happened with her and her boyfriend?" Adam asked.

  "He caught up with her one night and beat the hell out of her, used a knife to cut up her face. He's now serving time and Rachel and I have become best of friends."

  Adam reached out and placed his hand on her forearm, his gaze so intense it momentarily seemed to stop her heart. "You said you'd made the same mistake … your ex-husband … he didn't hurt you, did he?"

  His hand was warm, filled with energy and far too pleasant against her cool skin. She moved and he drew back his hand as if surprised to have found himself touching her.

  "You want to know if my ex-husband beat me?" she asked. "Absolutely not. He knew better than to ever lay a hand on me." She was vaguely surprised by the bitterness that rose in her voice with each word. "You asked if he ever hurt me? He promised undying love and fidelity. He played at building dreams, then he broke the promises and shattered the dreams. Did he hurt me? Unbearably … irreparably." She threw open her car door. "And now I'll just say good night." She got out of the car and slammed her door, surprised by the depth of emotions the conversation had stirred.