by Webb, Debra
Adeline told her muscles to relax, focused on drawing in a decent breath. “Do you recall any details about where the women are being held?” This was a waste of time. The woman had to have been told these details. No way she’d dreamed all this. The whole idea was ridiculous.
“It’s dark.”
How original.
“A house, I think. Not a cave or nothing like that. They’s walls around them.”
“How long,” Adeline decided to ask, “have you had these visions, Ms. Nichols?”
Her expression relaxed a little. “Since I was a child. My momma warned me not to ever tell nobody or they’d think I was crazy as a loon. So I never have until now.”
How convenient.
“I never dreamed about no police case before,” the woman added, her eyes widening again. “It upset me so I had to take some of my daddy’s old remedy to sleep.”
“Remedy?” Womack inquired.
The old lady leaned forward. “Moonshine. They’s still a few quart jars in the cellar. I don’t touch it ‘cept for times like when I can’t sleep no other way.”
Adeline turned to Womack. “Maybe we need a BAT.”
Womack nodded. “Yeah.”
Checking the woman’s blood alcohol level might not be a bad idea.
“Well.” Adeline stood. “If you think of anything else, Ms. Nichols, please give Deputy Womack a call.”
Nichols stared at Adeline a long moment, her eyes seemingly unseeing. If possible, the atmosphere in the room got even weirder.
Adeline glanced at Womack and shrugged. “Moonshine.”
“Ma’am,” Womack offered, “is there anything else—”
Nichols jumped out of her chair and reached across the table, grabbing Adeline by the upper arms before she could turn and walk out the door. Adeline tried to peel her fingers loose, but the lady wasn’t letting go.
Nichols shook Adeline hard. “You’re next!” she warned, her expression wild with something resembling hysteria.
Adeline froze. Fear rammed into her sternum.
“You have to hurry,” Nichols urged, leaning across the table toward Adeline. “They don’t want to go into the water! Help them!” She peered deep into Adeline’s eyes, panic in her voice. “You the only one who can. You’re daddy’s little angel.”
Womack pulled the woman off her.
Adeline stood there, shaking like a leaf.
What the fuck?
“Go, Cooper,” Womack urged. “I’ll take care of this.”
“You’re next! You’re next! You’re next!”
The words followed Adeline out the door.
She scrubbed the back of her hand over her face. Her cheeks were damp.
She had to get out of here.
Adeline stopped in Wyatt’s office and picked up her jacket and his keys. Her Bronco was at his house. She didn’t give a shit what she drove. She just wanted out of here.
Sullenger called after her, but Adeline ignored her.
She couldn’t breathe until she’d hit the street. Her heart thundered in her chest. This was insane. Abso-fucking-lutely over the top.
Tires squealing, she roared away from the curb.
She didn’t know where the hell she was going . . . somewhere to think.
Five minutes later she parked at the Greenwood Cemetery. The massive live oaks surrounding it were laden with Spanish moss. The cemetery was at least a century old. More of her Cooper ancestors than she cared to own were buried here.
She paused at Gage Cooper’s grave and stared at the lavish granite headstone. “You piece of shit. Why the hell couldn’t you stay that silly kid you were when we played together? Why’d you have to turn into such a scumbag?”
Adeline shook off the suffocating feeling of regret. He was dead because he’d made bad choices. It wasn’t her fault. She glanced back down at the dates on the marker. Twenty-three fucking years old.
“Idiot.”
She trudged through the rows of tombstones jutting up from the ground, some leaning from age, others damaged after Katrina’s ugly lashing. Adeline had almost come back after Katrina hit. Her mother had been safe, no damage to her home. But part of Adeline had felt the compulsion to come see to the folks back here—even if they didn’t want her around.
In the end she’d talked herself out of it.
She reached the marker she was looking for and sat down on the cold, damp ground. The tree canopy in this section of the cemetery was so heavy that the ground had been protected to some degree from last night’s rain. Not saturated or muddy, just a little damp.
Carlton Riley Cooper.
Beloved husband and father.
“I miss you, Daddy.”
The whispered words curled around her, strengthened the emotions pressing against her heart. When her daddy had died, her life had turned upside down. Wyatt had accused her of having a death wish. She’d taken far too many risks on the job. Had her mother worried sick. Had Wyatt ready to kick her ass. And Womack looking over her shoulder.
Then Sheriff Scumbag Grider had assigned her to work with the DEA to carry out a big sting. She’d been thrilled beyond words. That had felt like her chance to do something big . . . and to get back at her asshole cousin and uncle for getting away with breaking the law for so many years. Mainly, though, it had felt like a way to prove she was worthy of the high praise her daddy had always heaped on her.
“Why did you just ignore Cyrus?” she asked aloud. Her father had been a fine man. An upstanding citizen. A volunteer firefighter. He’d sacrificed his life to save others.
Yet he’d looked the other way when it came to Cyrus.
“I know he was your brother and all,” she relented, “but you pretended not to know. That drove me crazy.”
Adeline closed her eyes and let the fond memories flow. Her daddy had loved her so. And her mother. There was not a more devoted husband to be found. He’d been a good man, despite the genetic connection to the biggest asshole in the county.
She opened her eyes. What the hell difference did it make if he chose to love his brother in spite of his shortcomings? As big a hero as her father had been, he’d still been only human.
Adeline smiled. “Love you, Daddy.” She kissed her fingers and pressed them to his headstone.
And really, that was all that mattered.
She pushed to her feet.
And went stone-still.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She palmed her weapon, scanned the gloomy cemetery.
Someone was watching her. She visually searched the tree line of the woods that backed up to the cemetery.
Let that motherfucker come. She would blow his goddamned head off. She was definitely in the mood.
Her cell vibrated.
Circling cautiously to ensure no one sneaked up on her as she made her way back to the SUV, she gripped the weapon with both hands, ready to shoot anything that moved.
By the time she reached the SUV, she’d broken a sweat despite the cool temp.
Moving more quickly now, she checked the interior of the SUV, climbed in, and pressed the lock button. She started the vehicle, took one last look around, and pulled back out onto the road.
A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that no one was behind her. Her hand landed on the gearshift to move into drive . . . she stalled.
Slowly, her mind spinning, she pushed the gearshift back into park. The words written in the road film on the rear windshield blistered across her brain, automatically reversing their order from what her eyes saw in the mirror.
Adeline drew her weapon and shoved the door open. She stormed to the back of the SUV, scanning the street . . . the woods . . . the cemetery as she went.
She stared at the words, fury exploding inside her.
Are you ready, princess?
Son of a bitch!
She stepped away from the vehicle, both hands on the weapon, ready to fire if she caught sight of the bastard.
“Wh
o the fuck are you?” she screamed as she turned all the way around.
The wind shifted the moss in the trees.
“Show yourself!”
She clenched her jaw against a glimmer of fear, stomped toward the cemetery entrance. “Afraid this princess will kick your ass?”
The furious words echoed around her, shattering the silence.
Goddammit!
How the hell had he gotten that close?
Ready to tear through those woods after the bastard, she grabbed back some semblance of control. There was stupid and there was stupid. Going after him alone would be stupid.
She marched back to the driver’s side door and climbed behind the wheel. Shifted into drive and spun away.
Her cell vibrated again, snapping her out of the raging thoughts of decapitating the bastard. She took a breath and checked her cell. Wyatt.
Damn. He was gonna be pissed.
Before she could call him back her cell vibrated. She hit the accept button and struggled for calm. “Cooper.”
“Where in the hell are you?”
Don’t tell him yet. He would hunt her down and bring her in. There was one more thing she needed to do.
Just be calm. He was worried. And she, well, she had just done another of those stupid things she did when life got out of control. She knew better than to take this kind of risk.
Another deep breath and she could talk. “I came to the cemetery to visit my father.”
Until he’d finished yelling, she held the phone away from her ear. When he was done, she dared to put it back. “I have something I have to do before I come back to the office.”
“Addy! You don’t need to—”
“I’m going to see my mother,” she said, shutting him up. “If you need me that’s where I’ll be.”
She closed her phone and shoved it back into its holster. He wanted to protect her. It was his job.
Not just his job. He still had feelings for her. She couldn’t deny that any longer.
Memories from that morning rushed into her head, making her weak . . . making her wish things were different.
Stop. This bastard was getting closer all the time . . . escalating. No matter how hard Wyatt tried to protect her . . . this was going down.
There were things she had to do . . . first.
Adeline needed to talk to her mother about the past . . . she couldn’t do that with Wyatt anywhere near her.
It was time she and her mother cleared the air.
If this bastard got to her, Adeline didn’t want any unfinished business between her . . . and anyone she cared about.
That included having the talk with Wyatt.
Eventually.
Chapter Twenty-five
4720 Miller Road, 3:38 P.M.
Adeline sat in the SUV and stared at the farmhouse that had been home to her the first twenty-one years of her life. Seemed she’d been doing a lot of contemplating lately. It was like taking a huge step back into a place that hadn’t changed in the slightest. She had changed but everything here still felt the same. No matter how far she’d run, or where she’d run, the place and the people were still here . . . waiting. Frozen in time and attitude as if her dramatic departure had changed nothing. As if her sacrifices hadn’t mattered.
How was that freaking possible?
Her gaze roved over the house she’d played in as a kid. Where she’d fought with her parents during those rebellious teenage years. The place where she’d felt safe when the rest of the world had seemed crazy.
All except for that once.
Nine years ago, after Gage’s death, even this house hadn’t felt like a haven. Granted, her mother had still been grieving her father’s death. As had Adeline. Both their lives had been in utter turmoil. Nothing had felt right . . . or real.
Except Wyatt.
And then he’d let her down, too.
Adeline shook off the bad memories. Sucked in a deep breath for courage and reminded her brain to stay out of the past.
There was enough crap going on right here in the present. No need to go digging up the past all at once. First, she had to talk to her mother. Get that out of the way.
She climbed out of the SUV and surveyed the condition of the house. Still in good shape. Her mother had stayed on top of the maintenance just as Adeline’s father always had. Adeline had felt a little guilty over the years that she wasn’t here to help out. Her mom had always insisted that she had everything under control. It was good to see that she hadn’t been keeping anything from Adeline. Both of her parents had always been far too protective.
Came with the territory of being an only child.
The house wasn’t nearly so imposing as the one Cyrus lived in just beyond the woods and fields to the east. As the oldest, Cyrus had inherited the family home. Adeline’s father had renovated the only remaining tenant farmer’s house. Carl hadn’t been nearly so taken with appearances and material possessions. He’d never had any desire to prove he was better or wealthier than anyone else.
Too bad Cyrus hadn’t taken a page from his younger brother’s book on how to live right. Cyrus Cooper liked owning things and people. No matter the price, usually levied on anyone but him.
Funny how the good guys always went well before the bad ones. By rights, Adeline’s father should be enjoying his golden years and that old bastard Cyrus should’ve been planted in that damned cemetery.
But life was rarely fair. Maybe that was why Adeline had decided to walk away. Walk, she supposed, was an understatement. Most around here called what she’d done “running.”
Until now, she hadn’t once cared what any of them thought. This sudden uncertainty about her past decisions she suffered now was more likely related to the case and the utter helplessness of being unable to do a damned thing. Two women were dead, or would be soon, and she couldn’t find one fucking lead to follow.
And the bad guy just kept dashing it in her face.
Prescott had visited Arnold. That had to mean something. Somewhere in her history, Adeline had to be connected to those two women.
Since her father was dead, that left only her mother to ask. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only shot she had a clear window at making just now.
This wall that had erected itself between her and her mother over the past nine years had to come down. Her mother had assured Adeline over and over that she had made the right decision moving away and not coming back. Yet, her mother had refused to join her. Something had held her back. Maybe the need to be in this house close to the things and the life she had shared with her husband.
But it felt disturbing.
All these years Adeline had let it ride, not pushing the subject. She couldn’t do that anymore.
She needed the whole truth.
Before climbing the steps, she assessed the sky. Not a cloud in sight, no more rain hopefully. A shiver went through her. Maybe she’d get a decent night’s sleep tonight without having to resort to her old methods of consoling irrational fears from her childhood.
She’d scarcely crossed the porch when the door opened.
“Addy.” Her mother looked her up and down, as she always did when her daughter arrived home after a day on the job as a cop. “Is something wrong?”
Her mother didn’t have to state the obvious. Adeline was here . . . home . . . after nine years. She hadn’t set foot on Cooper land in all that time until her recent visit to Cyrus. That she was here now would be startling for anyone who knew her. Still, it seemed strange that her mother would assume the worst . . . they had spoken by phone earlier in the day.
This case was making everyone edgy.
“Maybe,” Adeline confessed. She shrugged. “Mainly, I need to ask you a few questions.”
Something flickered in her mother’s eyes before she stepped back and eased the door open wider. “Well, don’t be so formal. Come on in.”
A little puzzled by her mother’s reaction, Adeline stepped across the threshold into the life she
’d once known. Decades of memories bombarded her. Her father stepping through this same door and sweeping Adeline into his arms. The smell of chicken soup in the winter and fresh vegetables sautéing in the summer. And sweets baking in the oven. Adeline inhaled deeply . . . she could almost smell those chocolate chip cookies of her mother’s. Pepperidge Farm had nothing on her when it came to cookies.
“I was just having a cup of tea.” Her mother smoothed a hand over her blouse. “I would have changed if I’d known you were coming. I’ve been baking all afternoon. Would you like some tea or cocoa?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Adeline was too busy taking in the sights and smells. She’d thought she smelled cookies.
The house felt exactly the same. Cozy, clean, welcoming. Her mother had always kept a meticulous home. Same striped wallpaper in the entry hall. Same well-worn wood floor. Furnishings were the ones that had always been there. The lingering scent of baked goods in the air. It could have been ten years ago . . . or twenty.
Her stomach rumbled. She had no idea when she’d eaten last.
“I made chocolate chip cookies.” Irene smiled. “I know how you love them. I was going to bring a basket of goodies by the sheriff’s office.”
Since you didn’t come by on Christmas, she didn’t add. At some point Adeline needed to admit that she wasn’t a very good daughter when it came to this sort of thing. She’d stopped going to mass when she turned eighteen. She hated going to church. The somber face of the priest . . . all the rituals. Just hadn’t been her thing. Now that she thought about it, she’d spent a lot of time disappointing her parents.
“Maybe later,” Adeline offered. Feeling guilty, she tacked on, “I do love ’em.”
Smiling now, her mother led the way into the family room. A wave of nostalgia washed over Adeline as she took in the room. The Christmas tree stood in the corner near the front window. Same decorations her mother had always used, including a couple elementary school projects of Adeline’s. A crooked star and a not so flattering snowman. The colors were a little faded now, washed out . . . kind of the way Adeline felt at the moment.
Despite the fact that Adeline hadn’t been home in nine years and her father had been dead for ten, three time-worn velvet stockings hung from the mantel. Adeline walked over to the fireplace, briefly admired the familiar brickwork before turning her attention to the framed photos lining the wood mantel. A smile tugged at her lips. Her daddy had been a handsome man. He’d gotten all the looks and Cyrus had inherited all the conniving, evil genes.
