“I’ve met her a few times. She’s what my grandmother would have called a cold fish. Not exactly a desirable bedside manner in a family physician. Why do you ask?”
“I picked up a vibe when we talked. She seemed guarded and evasive. Did she and Dr. Nance ever have any trouble?”
“Not that I know of. What are you getting at?”
He swiveled his chair toward the window and glanced out at the street, taking a long moment to answer. “I just want to make sure we don’t overlook anything. Once a death is ruled an accident, it’s hard to go back from that. Evidence gets lost or contaminated. Witnesses forget what they saw. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
Nikki stared at him for a moment. “Tom. Are you telling me you think his death wasn’t an accident?”
“No—the opposite, in fact. The most likely scenario is accidental drowning, but that’s why I’m being cautious. I don’t want to get tunnel vision or jump to any conclusions before we have all the facts. But I also can’t ignore what people are telling me.”
“People other than Dr. Wingate?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dessie told me she’d also had some concerns about Dr. Nance’s recent behavior. She said he almost always had a drink out on the porch before dinner. Or sometimes he’d take a dip in the pool. Lately, though, he’d go straight to his study and close the door as soon as he came home from the clinic. Sometimes Dessie would have to knock several times to get his attention. When she asked what he was working on, he told her he was trying to put together a puzzle.”
“A puzzle? What did he mean by that?”
Tom shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Like I said, I’ll go over and talk to Dessie again later, see if she knows anything about the journal. Maybe she can help clear up a few other questions, too. She was pretty upset when we talked yesterday.”
“We’re all upset.” Nikki had been so distraught she’d imagined someone standing in the backyard, watching her house.
“It’s got to be especially hard on her,” Tom said. “She’s not only lost a friend, but also her whole way of life. Not much call for live-in housekeepers in Belle Pointe.”
“I’m sure Dr. Nance left provisions in his will. The two of them were always close.”
Tom pounced. “How close?”
“What exactly are you asking?”
He picked up a pen and fiddled with the cap. “I think you know what I’m asking.”
Nikki gaped at him. “Dessie and Dr. Nance? You can’t be serious.”
He tossed aside the pen. “They were all alone in that big house, night after night, year after year. Neither of them attached. Human nature is what it is, Nikki.”
“She had her own place over the garage. Besides, she was at least twenty years younger than he was.”
“So?”
“You’re way off base. I was in that house a lot as a kid. Sometimes I’d help Dessie cook and clean for a little spending money. When I was finished, I’d sit out on the porch with Dr. Nance while he told the most hilarious stories about his med school days. Dessie would serve us sweet tea and gingersnaps. Sometimes she’d linger to hear one of his yarns, but I never sensed anything remotely romantic between them.” Nikki gave him a dubious look. “Is this still your way of making sure you don’t overlook anything? Because it sounds a lot like grasping at straws to me. You can’t possibly think Dessie had anything to do with Dr. Nance’s death. She was devoted to the man.”
Tom answered her question with another question. “What do you make of Adam Thayer?”
“I... What?” He’d caught her by surprise.
Tom didn’t seem to notice her stammering hesitation. He plowed on without waiting for a response. “According to Thayer, Dr. Nance called him early last week and asked him to come to Belle Pointe. He said something strange was going on down here. Something dark.”
“I know. Adam told me the same thing.”
He lifted a brow at her use of the man’s first name. “Like Dr. Wingate, he was worried about Dr. Nance’s mental state. Three people voicing concerns about his behavior can’t be dismissed out of hand.”
Nikki nodded. “It’s just so distressing. After everything Dr. Nance did for me, how could I have let this happen? How could I have talked to him last week and not sensed something was wrong? If I’d been more attentive, maybe he’d still be alive.”
“Don’t take that burden on yourself,” Tom advised. “People hide things. Sometimes even from themselves.”
She smiled forlornly. Yes. She knew all about keeping things hidden.
* * *
IT WAS A strange turn of events, Adam decided. Nikki Dresden had been on his mind all morning as he’d worked around his grandmother’s house. She was still on his mind when he’d taken the boat across the lake to search for the embedded bullet in the pine tree and then later when he’d driven into town to replace his phone. Now, as he approached the front entrance of the county sheriff’s office, there she was in person. Head slightly bowed, her brow furrowed.
Deep in thought, she walked out the door and bumped right into him. She quickly stepped back, looking unaccountably flustered. In the split second before she moved away, he could have sworn he smelled the scent of roses wafting from her hair.
What struck him more forcefully were her eyes. They were a deep, rich brown. No gold or green flecks, just dark, fathomless pools. He could see a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and a tiny indented scar at her jawline. Not perfect, not beautiful, and yet, like before, he found her enigmatic. Dangerously intriguing.
“I’m sorry,” they both said at once.
“No, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her cheeks colored as she self-consciously tucked back her hair. She wore it loose today. The ends turned under at her shoulders, gleaming like a raven’s wing in the sun. She got a good look at him then, her gaze taking in the cut above his eyebrow and the bruises on his cheekbone. “What happened to you?”
“Let’s just say I ran up against a tank.”
“A tank?” Her gaze dropped to his taped knuckles. “That must have been some collision.”
He didn’t comment. “I’m glad I ran into you this morning. You’re just the person I’ve been wanting to see.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Hesitation? Curiosity? “What about?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Dr. Nance, if you have a minute.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the station entrance. “Weren’t you going inside?”
“Yes, but maybe I could swing by your office afterward.”
A frown flitted. “I’m not going into my office today. Why don’t you just tell me what this is about?”
“I’d rather not get into it on the street,” Adam said. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? The diner is just a few blocks over. It’s an easy walk from here.”
Her expression was easy to read. She wanted to turn him down but not as much as she wanted to hear what he had to say about Dr. Nance.
“There’s a coffee shop just down the street. That’s more convenient. I only have a few minutes,” she warned. “There’s someplace I need to be.”
“Not a problem. This won’t take long.” His phone rang and he glanced at the screen, noting the name with a scowl. Meredith Cassidy was the police psychologist assigned to his case after the shooting in Dallas. Stress debriefings and trauma intervention following a major event were routine in large police departments, or so Adam had always thought. He wondered how he’d remained so naive all these years. A decade with the Dallas PD and he was just now learning how politically motivated psych evaluations could be.
“Trouble?” Nikki asked.
He realized he was still frowning at his phone and he gave her an apologetic glance. “No, but I should probably take this. I’ll make it quick.”
She looked
as if she regretted agreeing to their talk, but then she shrugged and nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for you at the coffee shop. Straight ahead and to the right. You can’t miss it.”
“Wait!”
She’d already started to walk away, but turned when he called out to her.
“Does the number forty-seven mean anything to you?” he asked.
She looked puzzled. “What?”
“The number forty-seven. Did it have special significance to Dr. Nance?”
“Of course it did.”
Her matter-of-fact response startled him. “What does it mean?”
Her gaze dropped to his phone. “Take your call. We can talk about it when you’re finished.”
He watched her walk away as he lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Dr. Cassidy. Can I assume you’re calling to tell me you’ve signed off on my reinstatement?”
“I only wish it were that simple, Adam. You’ve missed your last two appointments. You know I can’t recommend you for active duty until you come back in and talk things through with me.”
“Haven’t we already done that?” He squinted into the sun as he eyed the park across the street. A man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses sat on a shaded bench, texting on his phone. He was a big guy and Adam’s mind instantly flashed back to the gunfire last night, to the near miss on the steps and the spray of bullets in the water. He couldn’t say with any certainty that the man on the bench was the shooter. He’d never gotten a good look at the suspect. But the stranger’s proximity to the police station made Adam wonder if he’d been followed from the lake into town.
As if prodded by Adam’s scrutiny, the man glanced up. When he saw that he’d been spotted, he rose from the bench and walked quickly away.
“Adam? Are you there?”
He’d forgotten about the therapist. Adam stepped off the curb, phone still to his ear. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Are you still having nightmares?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I’m sleeping like a baby these days.”
“And the headaches?”
He hesitated. “Better.”
“Well, these seem like significant developments,” she said encouragingly. “Why don’t you make an appointment for sometime next week? We can discuss any other changes, good or bad, you may be experiencing.”
He glanced both ways before crossing the street. A horn blared and he put up a hand as he hurried out of the way of oncoming traffic. The man in the park glanced back at the commotion. The bill of the cap was pulled low over his face, shading his features. He paused for a moment as if daring Adam to pursue him. Then he turned and headed down one of the pathways toward the wooded area of the park.
“Adam? Are you all right? You seem distracted.”
He pressed the phone to his ear. “I’m fine. I’m out of town at the moment. I’ll have to give you a ring when I get back to Dallas.”
“Where are you?”
“We’ll talk soon, Doc.”
He ended the call and slipped the phone in his pocket as he opened the park gate and stepped through. It was a busy place. Kids were out of school for the summer and looking for a place to hang out. In a quieter corner, mothers and caregivers sat reading or chatting on shady benches while toddlers and preschoolers played nearby.
Adam was acutely aware of all those soft targets. He slowed, putting distance between himself and the man in the ball cap. One thing to risk his own hide, but quite another when it came to innocent bystanders.
Only when his quarry had disappeared into the trees did Adam speed his steps, keeping an eye on his surroundings as the sound of laughter faded in the background.
The trees thickened as the paved pathway gave way to a series of dirt jogging trails. The oak leaf canopy blocked the sun so that it was cool and dim in the woods. Lots of shadows. Lots of places to hide.
He didn’t meet a single soul on the trail. He might have been in the middle of nowhere but for the occasional shriek of laughter behind him and the muted sound of traffic in front of him. He came out of the trees onto another busy street. He glanced over his shoulder. Glanced both ways down the sidewalk. The man in the ball cap was nowhere to be found.
Adam waited for a few minutes longer before he turned and retraced the trail through the woods. He came out on the other side of the park, transitioning from the shade into the brilliant glare of sunlight. He walked down to the nearest intersection to cross back over. He had the light. The truck came out of nowhere. Bigger than a pickup. A utility or delivery vehicle of some sort. An old model covered in dark gray primer.
He observed all this in the space of a heartbeat as the truck roared through the intersection. The driver swerved, and Adam stepped back up on the sidewalk, certain the maniac intended to jump the curb and come straight at him. At the last minute, the vehicle careened back into traffic and barreled down the street, barely slowing to make the next corner.
Gazing after the truck, Adam committed to memory what he remembered of the vehicle. There hadn’t been a license plate, he realized.
He waited for another light and crossed the street, keeping an eye on oncoming traffic.
Two near misses in less than twenty-four hours. Not a coincidence. Not by a long shot. Someone was coming for him.
Chapter Seven
Nikki looked up expectantly as Adam entered the coffee shop. She’d begun to think he wasn’t going to show. Not that it mattered to her one way or the other, she told herself. She was happy enough to just get on with the rest of her day. But there he was.
He stood inside the doorway, searching for her among the handful of patrons, and then his gaze lingered before he turned to the barista and placed an order.
From a distance he looked fine. Nikki could hardly see the bruises. He might not be the golden boy from her memory, but the older, tougher, more jaded man wasn’t without cachet. She acknowledged his appeal even as she cautioned herself to maintain a neutral perspective. She barely knew Adam Thayer, and the little she’d learned of him was hardly reassuring. She prided herself on keeping an open mind, but never at the expense of common sense.
Coffee in hand, he gave her a brief nod as he wound his way through the maze of tables and chairs.
She returned his greeting with a slight smile. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“I’m sorry. That took a lot longer than I expected.” He sat down across from her. “Thanks for waiting.”
“Of course.” Her gaze swept over his face. “Are you sure you’re okay? That cut above your eyebrow looks pretty deep.”
“I cleaned it up with antiseptic. It should be fine.”
“Watch out for infection,” she advised. “Are you going to tell me how you really got all those cuts and bruises?”
“Yes, but that explanation will have to wait. I know you don’t have a lot of time, so I want to get this out of the way first. What can you tell me about Dr. Nance’s autopsy?”
Nikki’s guard went up. “How do you know he’s even been autopsied yet?”
“Given his standing in the community and the questions surrounding his death, I’m assuming he’d be a priority. Plus, I drove by the forensic science center earlier. I saw your vehicle in the staff parking lot.”
“That’s a thirty-minute drive one way,” she said.
“I had some time to kill.” He lifted his cup, observing her over the top. “The autopsy?”
Such intense eyes. Lila Wilkes had been right about his gaze. “I know you think you have a vested interest in this case, but you’re not the only one who feels that way,” Nikki said. “A lot of people in this town owe their lives to Dr. Nance. They’d all like to know what happened to him. I’ll tell you what I would tell any one of them. If you’re not a close relative, then you need to direct your queries to Sheriff Brannon.”
He wasn’t fazed. “Autopsy reports are a matter of public record. You and I both know I can get my hands on a copy, but that’ll take time and I’ll have to jump through a lot of annoying hoops. You could save me the trouble by just telling me what you found. Or didn’t find.”
She hesitated, then relented with a shrug. “It’ll probably end up in the paper or online anyway. The preliminary results are consistent with drowning. That’s all I’m prepared to say at this time.”
He sat back in his chair without comment.
Nikki gazed across the table at him. “You were expecting something else?”
“Not necessarily. I assume you’re still waiting on the toxicology screen?”
“That could take days or even weeks. Unless there’s reason to suspect foul play, the lab won’t prioritize.”
“Can you show me the preliminary autopsy report?”
“No, sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to jump through those hoops for that.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I appreciate your candor.”
Nikki hesitated. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
She folded her arms on the table, relaxing into the conversation. “Why is this so important to you? You say you came to town at Dr. Nance’s request, but you can’t have known him that long.”
“Long enough to consider him a friend.” He glanced out the window, squinting into the sun. “I told him I would come down here and have a look around, and that’s just what I intend to do. I don’t go back on my word because the circumstances have changed. If anything, his death makes me more determined.”
“Even if there’s nothing to find?”
“I’m not convinced of that yet.”
Nikki felt a warning prickle at the base of her spine. “You don’t think his death was an accident, do you? Why?”
“Aside from what he told me on the phone? I have my reasons.”
Nikki glanced around, lowering her voice to a near whisper. A few other patrons were scattered around the small shop. She wanted to make sure they couldn’t overhear the conversation. The last thing Belle Pointe needed was another wave of rumors. “You said he didn’t sound himself when he called. He was paranoid and distracted. Those were your words. You said you were worried about his mental state.”
A Desperate Search Page 8
