Shadows of the Past (Logan Point Book #1): A Novel

by Bradley, Patricia

  “I think so.” Wilson’s wheezing filled the room as he stopped once again to get his breath.

  “Can you tell me?”

  “Don’t have time right now. My daughter is sitting in the driveway, waiting to take me to her house.”

  “Could I visit you and talk about the case?” Taylor asked. “Maybe I could take a look at your personal notes.”

  Wilson hesitated. “Have to be the first part of the week. I’d have to find the notes again, and my daughter won’t bring me home until she goes to work Monday morning, but I ought to find those notes real quick. Come Monday morning around ten.”

  “I’ll see you then.” As she thanked him for his time, a thought struck her. “Lieutenant Wilson,” she said before he could disconnect. “Do you remember your partner on that case?”

  This time there was no hesitation. “Sorriest partner I ever had. Allen Yates. He committed suicide a few years later, or so the story goes. Got my doubts about that too. Look, my daughter’s honking, so I need to go.” He broke the connection.

  Taylor handed the phone back to Livy. “Well, guess that’s that until Monday. Except for checking out the detective Jonathan hired.”

  Mac tapped his lips. “I remember the Yates story. It happened right after I got out of academy. There were rumors Yates was a dirty cop, extorting some of the drug dealers downtown, but nothing concrete ever developed—drug dealers aren’t known for cooperating.”

  “Was it a suicide?” Taylor asked.

  “I think there was a note.” He shook his head. “Happened at least fifteen years ago, and the details are a little murky.”

  Strange that one of the detectives involved in her dad’s case was dead under questionable circumstances. Or was she making too much of his death? After all, people died every day. “Thanks for the help,” Taylor said. “As soon as I copy my dad’s files, I’m out of here.”

  “I’ll help you,” Livy said and walked with Taylor to the conference room.

  “Let that be your last official act of the week,” Mac called to Livy’s back. “You’re working way too many overtime hours for this month. Take the weekend off.”

  “I might just do that,” Livy called over her shoulder.

  Taylor grinned. “Good. You can run interference for me tomorrow at the picnic.”

  “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Adams.” The appointment with the restorers had taken longer than Nick had expected, and then he’d stopped to purchase clothes for him and Scott, along with a pair of sneakers. Not one article of clothing for Scott was black.

  “Call me Kate—none of that Mrs. Adams stuff. And I’ll call you Nick.”

  He set his overnight bag in the foyer and followed her as she showed him around the old Victorian. Upstairs, Kate gave him his choice of two bedrooms. Both were large and airy and furnished with antiques. The one he chose had a private shower and separate dressing room. He liked the solid lines of the oak bedstead and dresser.

  “Once you get settled, come downstairs. I’ll be in the kitchen. Most days I make supper, and you’re welcome to eat here, no extra charge.”

  Nick’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.”

  “Supper will be in one hour.”

  When he returned to the main floor, the rich aroma of corn bread baking in the oven drew him to the kitchen. The sunny room with its country curtains and cross-stitched verses on the wall reminded him of his childhood home. Kate even made him think of his stepmother as she stood at the stove, stirring three different pots of vegetables.

  “You go ahead and fix your plate,” she said.

  Nick hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in days. He helped himself to the vegetables while Kate took the corn bread from the oven and flipped it onto a plate.

  She frowned at his small portions. “That chicken is my specialty.”

  He obliged her by forking another piece onto his plate. Kate joined him at the table. “How is your brother?”

  “Getting better. I’ll be going back to the hospital after I finish eating. I should be back in a couple of hours.” But he wasn’t leaving the hospital until he got the information he wanted.

  “I always stay up for the ten o’clock news.” Kate gave Nick a gentle smile. “Taylor told me about Scott. Is he going to rehab?”

  “I hope so, but I’m not sure he’ll agree to it.” Nick looked around the kitchen, recognizing the Bible verse from Jeremiah. This was a happy place, much like the home he grew up in. “You know, this would be a good place to bring Scott. Maybe fatten—” He stopped, his face burning. “I’m sorry. This is your home, not a hospital. I shouldn’t assume that it would be okay for Scott to stay here. And Taylor lives close by, doesn’t she?”

  “Taylor is like family. My daughter married her brother.” Kate tilted her head. “Taylor has already mentioned you might want to bring him here. Do you think the police will release Scott to your custody?”

  “He hasn’t been charged with anything.”

  “Oh.” She seemed puzzled. “I just thought this thing with Taylor . . .”

  “My brother is not the one stalking her.”

  “How do you know? And are you willing to risk her life to prove it?”

  Was he?

  “Let me tell you a story,” Nick said. “I came home from school one day. Scott was under the old elm tree in our backyard, and he held a small wren with a broken wing in his hands. He held that bird up to me with tears in his eyes and said, ‘Fix it, Nick. It’s hurting.’ I don’t think that little boy could grow up and intentionally hurt anyone. I know he has an alcohol problem, but violence is so foreign to his nature. Taylor doesn’t have anything to worry about from him.”

  Kate’s eyes softened. “I believe you’re right. And he won’t be the first person staying here who has problems.”

  “Oh?” Nick forked a piece of chicken into his mouth, savoring the spicy chipotle flavor.

  “My daughter took off a couple of years ago. Can’t figure out how we went wrong.”

  Taylor hadn’t mentioned that. “Maybe it wasn’t anything you did.”

  “Wasn’t all us.” Kate smoothed her apron. “But we failed her in some way. Ever since, I’ve tried to open my home to anybody God brought here. There were a couple of runaways that Sheriff Tom Logan, the current sheriff’s dad, asked me to take in. They went home to their families, so maybe I’m doing some good.”

  “Did Taylor tell you I’m looking for land to build a camp for troubled kids? It’ll be only boys at first, but . . .” Nick’s heart quickened. Kate was a potter, a skill she could pass on. “Have you ever thought about giving pottery lessons?”

  A broad smile stretched across her face. “I can’t take on anything full time or even part time, what with the pottery studio and all the orders, but I could spare a couple of hours a week.”

  “Is there any land around here for sale? I’d like to get at least twenty acres, with access to a lake, if possible.” Nick wasn’t rich, but with his savings and Angie’s insurance money, he should be able to swing twenty acres.

  “You’d need plenty of money to do that. Developers are grabbing up all the good land, offering outlandish prices.”

  Reality check. Memphis was knocking on Logan Point’s door. Land would sell by the foot here rather than by the acre. “You’re right. I doubt I could afford it.”

  She patted his hand. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. If God wants it here, it’ll go here.”

  Nick had experienced open doors too many times not to recognize another one. He squeezed Kate’s hand. “I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that we’ve met.”

  Nick stared out the fifth floor window of Scott’s hospital room at the parking lot below. A monitor beeped a steady rhythm from above his brother’s bed. “So tell me a little more about this Digger person your girlfriend mentioned.”

  When he didn’t get an answer, he turned around. Scott was dozing again. The hamburger Nick had brought was stil
l on the tray, untouched. Nick crossed to the bed and shook him. “Scott, tell me about Digger.”

  “Somebody . . . I met in Newton.” Scott slurred his words.

  Nick sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Overhead, the faint beeping from the monitor indicated an increase in Scott’s heart rate. “Did he take Dr. Martin’s class?”

  “What? No, I told you he was too old . . .”

  “What do you mean by too old? Scott!” He shook him again. “We need to talk.”

  “Not now . . .”

  “Did you give her the bracelet?”

  Scott’s eyes blinked open, and he squinted at Nick. “What bracelet?”

  “She received a diamond bracelet in the mail Monday. It was postmarked from Memphis and charged to your credit card. A five hundred dollar purchase, Scott.”

  His eyes widened, and he struggled to get up as he shook the sleep off. Nick raised the head of his bed.

  “I didn’t send her a bracelet. Yeah, I went to her house. But because she texted me to come. Look on my phone. You’ll see it.”

  “Your phone was destroyed in the fire.” Taylor had never mentioned a text to Scott, probably because there never was one. Nick expelled an impatient breath. “How did you get to her house? You didn’t have a car.”

  “I got a ride part of the way and walked the rest.”

  “Were you drunk?”

  “Not then. I’d maybe had a couple of drinks.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Do we have to do this tonight?”

  Nick crossed his arms. “Tell me what happened when you got there.”

  Scott pressed his hands against his head. “The front door was open, and I rang the doorbell and knocked, and when Dr. Martin didn’t come to the door I went in to make sure she was okay. I don’t remember anything after that until I heard a loud bang. Knew I had to get away, so I started running.”

  “How did you get back to town?”

  Scott laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. “When I heard the sirens, I called Digger. I walked about a mile before he came.” He took a shuddering breath. “Please.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this any longer.”

  Cold chills ran over Nick as he sat silently as Scott drifted off. Before he went to bed tonight, he needed to write down what his brother had just told him and email it to Taylor. He sighed.

  Scott was in deeper trouble than he had ever guessed.

  20

  The sun topped the trees in the Martin backyard, promising a hot Saturday as Taylor stretched first one leg then the other. After a fitful sleep, she hoped running would revitalize her, but even now her father’s case gnawed in her gut. Missing evidence and one of the investigators dead. Maybe a suicide, maybe not. The wait until Monday morning seemed interminable.

  She pulled her hair up in a ponytail, then jogged the quarter mile to Coley Road and turned toward the bed and breakfast. Years ago she and Livy routinely ran a two-mile stretch of the road and back. Sometimes they even added the mile to the lake. She would forgo that leg of it today.

  A horn honked, and she almost stumbled as a pickup eased beside her. She recognized one of Ben’s deputies even though he was out of uniform.

  “Wade Hatcher, you scared me to death,” she said.

  “Ben know what you’re doing?”

  She winced. At the least, she should have called the sheriff and advised him that she planned to jog a little. “No, but it’s good to see he’s sending patrols by.”

  “I’m not exactly part of the patrol, just on my way to check on my mom. I’ll radio dispatch and let them know to send a deputy by.”

  “I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks.”

  By the time she reached Kate’s drive, she’d slipped into a groove again as she focused on the feel of the road under her feet. Lost in a world of her own, she didn’t hear or see Nick until he spoke.

  “Good morning.”

  Taylor jerked her head up. She lost focus as he fell in beside her. Her traitorous heart thudded against her ribs as she took in his lean body. “You scared me half to death,” she panted.

  Nick grinned wickedly. “Sorry. Want me to run the other way?”

  She shot him a sharp glance. “Think you can keep up?”

  “Try me.”

  Taylor’s jaw shot out. She’d do just that—as soon as she got her pace back, a difficult task with him running beside her, his body lean and taut. He hadn’t shaved, and his five o’clock shadow had grown into a day-old beard. An eye patch and he’d look like a pirate.

  Breathe. In. Out.

  Muscles. Rippling. Body. Glistening.

  Her mind backslid as he matched her stride for stride. They rounded a curve in the road. Killer Hill lay ahead, so named by Livy because of the sharp incline. She’d leave him in the dust. Taylor upped her pace, stretching out her legs. Halfway up the hill she drew from reserves. Again, he matched her stride for stride. She glared at his back in disbelief as he pulled ahead before they reached the top.

  Nick jogged several yards beyond while she slowed to a walk, her chest heaving. He turned around and jogged back. “You’re good,” he panted.

  “I would have beaten you if we’d started even.” At least he was winded. “You didn’t tell me you were a runner.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He reached and brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Thirsty?”

  Her heart erupted into a flurry of rapid-fire beats that had nothing to do with running. Taylor pinched her T-shirt and fanned it. “I’m dying here.”

  His gaze lingered, and then he smiled. “Be right back.”

  While she stretched her calves, Nick disappeared into the woods beside the road. When he reappeared, he held two water bottles in his hands.

  “You knew about Killer Hill?”

  He laughed. “I scoped it out last night and stashed a couple of bottles of frozen water Kate gave me.” He handed her a bottle. “One will be enough for me.”

  “Thanks.” Taylor unscrewed the cap and took a long draw. “I gather you stayed at the bed and breakfast last night.”

  Nick nodded, then turned his bottle up and drank, the water trickling out the side of his mouth. He wiped his chin with his hand. “Kate’s an interesting woman.”

  “She’s special.”

  He took a breath. “The hospital will probably release Scott tomorrow, and he’s refusing to go to rehab, says he can do it himself this time. If you don’t have any objections, I’d like to bring him to Kate’s for a few days, until I can find a drug and alcohol facility he’ll agree to go to.”

  “Bring him to Kate’s?” Even though she’d mentioned to Kate that Nick might want to bring Scott to the bed and breakfast, it still unsettled her.

  “Before you decide, there’s more.”

  From the look on his face, she wasn’t going to like the “more” part. “What?”

  “I talked him last night about what happened the night you and the sheriff were attacked, then I went home and wrote down what he said. I’d like to email it to you.”

  She gave him her email address. “Give me the highlights.”

  He looked into the distance, then turned back to her. “He admitted he was at your house that night. But he said you texted him to come. I—”

  “I what?” She gaped at him. “I don’t even know his cell phone number.”

  “That’s what I thought. But he was adamant.” Nick licked his lips. “I’m not saying you texted, but that someone could have from your house. Maybe on your computer?”

  Her computer hadn’t been moved from her desk, one of the reasons she didn’t believe robbery was part of the attack. Even so, she’d checked the computer out, and everything seemed normal. “My computer is at the house. I’ll check and see if a text was sent from it as soon as I get there.”

  “I’ve been saying all along someone is framing my brother.”

  He might just be right. But even if Scott wasn’t the attacker, he
almost burned Nick’s house down. “You’re sure Kate is okay with Scott coming there?”

  “We talked about it, and she indicated it was mostly up to you. Of course, I’d have to make sure he didn’t get any alcohol, but that shouldn’t be so hard to do at Kate’s house. I don’t think there’s any place he can buy it closer than five miles.”

  She chuckled. “That’s true. If he comes, can I talk to him?”

  “I want you to. I want him to tell you everything that happened that night . . . but let me get him settled first.”

  “Hopefully sooner than later? After all, I might be able to help him.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She slugged down the last of the water and looked at the empty bottle. She didn’t want to throw it away, and she didn’t want to carry it to the house.

  Her gaze flitted to his chiseled lips. How could anyone look as good as Nick this early in the morning? Nearby, a mockingbird let loose with a melody, and his mate answered. Her breath shortened, and she tried to ignore her thumping heart.

  Nick’s hand brushed hers as he reached for the empty bottle, and a charge raced up her arm. She raised her head and met his gaze, drowning in his liquid hazel eyes. The air between them surged with an undercurrent. Desire to feel his lips on hers raced through her body.

  Nick dropped the water bottles and leaned toward her, cupping her face in his hands. His lips, tentative at first, tasted salty and sweet at the same time. Then he claimed her mouth with such intensity that it took her breath away. Desire she’d never known ignited in her heart, and she melted into his arms as the pleasure of being held by him blew everything else away.

  “Oh, Taylor,” he said, his voice husky as his finger trailed down her cheek. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  She stiffened and tried to pull away.

  “Wait . . . That didn’t come out right. I don’t regret it. I just didn’t see it coming.”

  Taylor took in a shaky breath. She could live with that. “That makes two of us. So, what’s next?”

  She could kick herself. Did she always have to be so direct? Did it even matter? His low chuckle was like butterfly kisses to her self-doubt.