“What I remember is you pushing him to stop drinking and finish his degree,” Sam said gently.
“Evidently I didn’t push him hard enough.” But it seemed the harder she pushed, the more he drank. “If I could just find him and know he’s all right.”
Sam was quiet for a minute. “Do you think he could be dead?”
“No!” She refused to even consider that scenario. “Even as kids we always felt each other’s pain, and if he’d died, I would know it.”
“Okay, tell me what you’ve done to find him.”
“That’s just it. Nothing other than badger Sheriff Carter for as long as he was sheriff to send out inquiries, but I don’t think he ever sent the first one.” Every time she thought about Carter, her blood pressure rose. “All we had was what the sheriff told us—that he’d run away. Carter said he’d tracked him to Memphis through a credit card purchase at a liquor store and that the Memphis police had found his Mustang stripped in South Memphis. That’s where the trail ended.”
“Do you have Sheriff Carter’s report?”
“No, but last year, I asked Trey about it and the night Ryan disappeared.”
“What did he say?”
“He kept putting me off.”
Sam cocked his head. “When did you and Trey start dating?”
She gave him a wry shrug. “Right after I asked about Ryan. He offered to discuss it over coffee, and then we dated a few months. We were never serious. At least I wasn’t, especially after he became so controlling.”
Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Controlling?”
“He didn’t like my clothes or my lack of makeup . . . that sort of thing.”
“Did he remember anything significant about the night Ryan left?”
“Not really, other than they’d left him at the Hideaway right after you went to help your sister. Trey said Ryan had gotten obnoxious.”
“He wasn’t a crying-in-your-beer type of drinker.” Sam stood and paced in front of the closed blinds. “I’ve gone over that night so many times in my head. Gordy was drinking pretty heavily too, but he tended to just get quieter. Trey was pretty well sober when I left,” he said, “and Mary Jo was arriving with someone.”
“Are you sure? I never heard that,” she said.
“I couldn’t swear to it, but there’s a hazy memory of a guy . . . let me think about it.”
“That would be awesome,” she said, her pulse increasing. “I was always led to believe Ryan was the last person known to see her. You weren’t questioned?”
“Sheriff Carter questioned me once, but then I went back to school in Arizona.”
She couldn’t believe Sheriff Carter had only interviewed Sam once. “The sheriff never would give my parents a copy of the investigation report. My thinking now is he either bungled the investigation . . . or was covering up something. I tried to get a copy of the report after Carter retired four years ago, but the new sheriff just blew me off. He didn’t last long, and I thought when Nate was elected, I’d get the report. But when I asked him about it a week ago, he said it was missing.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Nate looked for the file, but it wasn’t there, and with Sheriff Carter’s Alzheimer’s, we can’t ask him where it is. Trey claims he knows nothing about the report or the case.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do about the report,” she said. “Trey was still in college at Ole Miss when all of this happened—it was four or five years later that he went to work for his dad. And Nate has no reason to reopen the case unless something new surfaces.” Like her brother returning to Natchez.
Sam picked up his coffee cup. “Would you like more?”
“I better not. I’m already wired.”
He walked to her kitchen and refilled his cup, then stood at the island. After a minute, he turned around. “I wish someone like a private investigator had conducted a second investigation.”
“That would be nice.”
Sam tilted his head. “Do you know if there was any type of physical evidence linking Ryan to Mary Jo’s death?”
“No.” Emma bit her lip. She never thought the day would come that she could calmly discuss Ryan with Sam. “Sheriff Carter always claimed my brother was only a person of interest, but that was enough for everyone to believe Ryan killed her, especially since he’d taken off for no telling where.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“No,” she said, almost too quickly. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. But on her worst days, she wondered if it was possible.
15
You’re tired,” Sam said and checked his watch. Eleven thirty? Seemed like it should be much later. He drained his coffee and rinsed his cup, then found Emma’s and rinsed it. “I better head out. What time do you want to leave for Mount Locust in the morning?”
“Seven thirty would be good since I don’t have to get cat food. I want to get started back on excavating that hole.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Really?” She seemed relieved.
“Until we catch this guy, you’re my main concern,” he said with a smile. “Really. Brooke will be back, and while she’s off tomorrow, she would be available if anything came up. Clayton too.”
Emma frowned. “I wonder why she didn’t call me?”
He’d gotten a text from Brooke while they were waiting for the Natchez officers to arrive. “The trial ended late, and she was probably tired.”
She stood, uncertainty crossing her face. “Um . . . I think maybe I should give you a key to my apartment in case you ever need to get into the building after six.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Less than a minute later she returned with a key and handed it to him. He put it on his key ring. “Hope I never need to use it.”
“Me too,” she said and walked him to the door. “And thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome. In the morning, I’ll come to your apartment door to get you after I check out the neighborhood.” Sam didn’t know why, but something inside him had shifted.
Soberly, Emma saluted. “Yes, sir.”
His breath caught in his chest at the desire that swept through him to take her in his arms and kiss her. Emma’s pupils widened. The air between them crackled with electricity. Her full lips were parted slightly, and he wanted to trace his thumb down her jawline. Abruptly, Sam stepped back. Was he crazy? She’d broken his heart once. He’d be stupid to give her the chance to do it again.
“Do you think we could start fresh from tonight?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
Even as he told himself to say no, he nodded. “I think I’d like that.”
He had to come clean with Emma. Tomorrow he would find a way to tell her. Sam surprised himself by bending over and kissing the top of her head. “See you tomorrow.”
He should have told her the truth about the night Ryan left. The thought dogged him all the way down the stairs, and halfway down, he almost turned around and returned to her door. Almost. She was tired. And in pain. There would be a better time.
The Natchez police had finished their work, and Sam paused at the top of the porch steps, scanning the area. He didn’t sense being watched like he had earlier, but then, he didn’t figure their assailant had hung around. His cell phone rang, and he unhooked it from his belt. Jenny.
“I’m on my way,” Sam said by way of answering. “What kind of milkshake does he want?”
“None.” Her tone was curt. “He’s asleep.”
It was late—of course he was asleep. Sam had missed another night of saying good night to Jace. When the weather was good, they liked to look out the window over the boy’s bed for a special end-of-the-day moment to see what phase the moon was in.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t come earlier. There was a shooting.”
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, but I could have
been.”
“Thank goodness,” she said, her relief evident. “Jace was awake a few minutes ago, asking for a drink of water. He may not have fallen back asleep yet.”
“Be there in five.”
Before he could end the call, his sister added, “Sam . . . I’m sorry for being so snarky about Emma this morning before you left, but I’d hate to see you get mixed up with her again.”
Jenny had practically idolized Emma before the breakup and had taken her rejection personally. Another reason to keep his distance from the lovely park ranger. “Don’t worry, Sis. Not happening,” he said, ignoring the memory of wanting to kiss Emma.
Sam hooked his phone on his belt and hurried to his SUV. It was important to catch Jace before he went to sleep, and he let his speed creep above the limit in the short distance to his sister’s small house.
He’d been in love with Emma since high school, and it had been torture watching her flit from one boy to another. Then the first year at the junior college they both attended had been his turn, and he’d been surprised when they became a steady item even after he went away to college in Arizona on a full scholarship.
A couple of buddies who had been Emma’s castoffs warned him not to get serious about her. He should have listened. Instead, he asked her to marry him when he came home for the summer and she accepted. He’d given her a ring and was about to chuck the rest of his Arizona scholarship to attend Mississippi State with her and Ryan. At least she broke the engagement before that happened.
He thought he’d gotten over her, but being around her had reopened old feelings. And old fears. Presently, only three people knew the truth about what happened between him and Ryan the night he disappeared. Ryan, Jenny, and Sam.
He’d even had a perfect opening at one point tonight when he could have told her what really happened. How he and Ryan had gotten into a fight in the parking lot when her brother wouldn’t leave the tavern. Sam had already been on his way home when Jenny called, needing his help. Emma and everyone else assumed he’d left Ryan because of his sister’s trouble, and he’d let them believe it.
While it wasn’t a lie, neither was it the whole truth, and he wasn’t proud of that. But then Emma had hurt him so deeply when she broke up with him that he didn’t see any point in correcting her impression.
Sam slowed in front of his sister’s small house and turned into the drive. He really needed to get a place of his own. Maybe even next door. He’d noticed their neighbors had moved out over the weekend, and he’d meant to call the owner this morning to see if the house was available. Tomorrow he’d make the time.
He glanced up at the crescent moon before he inserted his key in the lock, hoping Jace would be awake. The key turned much too easily. Jenny had left the door unlocked again. She was sitting on the sofa folding clothes when he walked into the den. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She and Emma had that in common, if nothing else—the ponytail part, not the color. Jenny’s was blonde but Emma’s fiery curls matched his mood. “How many times have I told you to keep the doors locked, especially the front door?”
“You don’t have to take my head off,” she said. “I forgot. Okay?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I just want you and Jace to be safe. Natchez isn’t like it was when we were kids.”
She palmed her hands. “I’ll try to remember. Where were you when I called?”
Sam hesitated. If he told her, she’d be on his case again, but he was tired of avoiding the subject. “Emma Winters’s apartment,” he said. “I’m going to check on Jace.”
Sam walked to his nephew’s bedroom and sighed when the ten-year-old was asleep. He really had meant to get home in time to check out the moon with him. His heart swelled at the sight of the sleeping boy. Jace was smaller than most ten-year-olds and still had an angelic face at times. That almost made him laugh out loud. Jace would not like Sam thinking he looked angelic.
The boy’s eyes fluttered open. “Sam, you’re here,” he said sleepily.
Sam had refused to be called Uncle Sam. “Yep, buddy, I’m home. Are you feeling better?”
“Uh-huh. Is it too late to look for the moon?”
“Let’s see.” He crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside as Jace scrambled to his knees on the bed. The thin white arc hung overhead against a black night. “Do you remember what we call this phase?”
“It’s a crescent moon.”
“Good. Now, is it waxing or waning?”
Jace held out his hand facing the moon and made a C with his thumb and forefinger. The moon fit neatly in the curve. “It’s waxing, right?”
“Yeah. What does that mean?”
“It’ll be a full moon in a couple of weeks,” Jace said, looking around at him.
“Good, you remembered. I’m proud of you.” Words he never heard from his own father.
“Thanks for waking me up.”
“I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad too. Now, let’s get you tucked in before your mama skins me alive.”
Jace wrinkled his face into a frown. “I’m too big to be tucked in.”
“Maybe just this one time?”
Grudgingly Jace settled down in the bed, and Sam tucked the Dutch Boy quilt his mom had made under the boy’s chin. “Good night, sleep tight, buddy.”
“And don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Jace said with a giggle.
“See you in the morning.” Sam ruffled his hair and walked back to the living room. “You have a good kid there,” he said to his sister.
“Yeah. His dad is missing out on a lot.”
He studied his sister. She’d lost weight since the divorce, and fatigue in her slim face intensified the gauntness. “Are you sleeping okay?”
Her answer was a shrug as she stood. “As well as ever.”
Jenny picked up the folded towels and crossed the room. Tonight the limp she’d had since childhood was more pronounced. Another regret filled him with guilt. Standing all day in a classroom couldn’t be good for her, but teaching kindergarteners wasn’t a sit-down job. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“You can put these away.” She handed him the towels. “And go see Dad.”
He flinched, her words hammering him. “Not happening,” he said, and took the towels to the linen closet. When he returned from the bathroom, she was waiting for him with arms crossed.
“Why not?”
“How can you ask after the way he treated Mom . . . and us?”
“He’s changed, Sam. Big-time. He owns a real estate brokerage firm now, and he’s helping Mom out with her bills. Me too when I need it.”
“If he hadn’t been the way he was, you wouldn’t be worried about money in the first place. You would’ve found a decent sort to marry instead of—”
“And I wouldn’t have Jace, would I?”
She had him there, but when she started to say something else, he held up his hand. “I don’t want to talk about dear old Dad tonight. Or ever.”
“All right already. But he’s a good man now.” Like always, Jenny had to get in the last word. She tilted her head. “Why were you at Emma Winters’s apartment?”
This subject was no better. “Someone took a shot at her last night, and I’ve been assigned to make sure she gets back and forth to Mount Locust safely.”
“Why you?”
“She’s a ranger. The shooting happened on park service land. And—”
“Wait. When you called you said there’d been a shooting—was that different than the shooting last night?”
“Yes.”
“Two nights in a row?” Her eyes widened. “I’m assuming she wasn’t hit last night, but how about tonight?”
“No. We’d both stooped to pick up the key she dropped, and the bullet crashed into the doorframe.”
“You could’ve been hit. You need to hand her off to someone else.”
“I wasn’t, and I’m not. Right now she’s my responsibility,” he said.
“Why were you
so late getting her home?”
“We’d stopped to get something to eat after getting her hand wrapped at the clinic.”
“Wait. You took her out to eat?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve forgiven Emma Winters for the way she treated you.”
“I forgave her a long time ago. Doesn’t mean I’m opening my heart to her again.” He didn’t understand why Jenny had it in for Emma the way she did. Well, he did, but it’d been ten years since Emma had given his ring back.
“Whatever. Tell me what happened.”
“We’re both too tired to talk about this, and I need to check in with Clayton.”
“What does Clayton have to do with anything?”
“He’s guarding Mount Locust with Trey Carter.”
Jenny wouldn’t let up until he explained, peppering him with questions, and he briefly ran over the details of what had happened at the inn.
“Do you think there’s a body buried where you’re excavating?”
“I hope not,” he said, taking his phone out.
“Why else would anyone be so anxious to remove whatever is there?”
He dialed Clayton. “Maybe it’s buried treasure.” The call went to Clayton’s voicemail.
“And they left it untouched all this time?”
“Maybe.” He dialed Clayton’s number again and got the same results. It wasn’t for lack of service because it didn’t go straight to voicemail. More likely he just wasn’t answering, and that wasn’t like Clayton. His stomach knotted, and he tried to force calm through his body as he hooked his phone on his belt. “I need to drive out to Mount Locust.”
“Why? It’s late.”
“Clayton’s not answering.”
“Is there even reception there?” she asked.
He nodded and tried again. Still no answer.
“Didn’t you say Trey was with him? Try him.”
“Sometimes you have really good ideas,” he said with a grin.
But Trey didn’t answer either. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Lock the door behind me.”
She rolled her eyes but followed him to the door, and he heard it click after he closed it. On the way to the Trace, he called Nate. “Have you heard from Trey?”
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