“That’s all the more reason to go out with me. I promise to take your mind off all your troubles.”
Emma found herself weakening. She really didn’t want to be by herself right now, and Sam was busy. If she kept the dinner date, she could at least learn more about the person who didn’t want the Mount Locust project to go forward.
“Pretty please?” he said.
His entreaty almost brought a smile to her lips. “If we can make it an early night,” she said.
“I promise to have you home by eight. How’s that?”
“Sounds good.”
In her bedroom, Emma searched for something to wear to the Guest House. Something that was easy to get into. She found a pair of black slacks and a silk shirt the color of emeralds. Buttoning the shirt almost proved too much, but she finally wrestled the buttons into their holes and then slipped her size sixes into a pair of Jimmy Choos.
Like the outfit she’d worn Saturday night, the clothes had been Christmas presents from her mother, who never quit trying to improve Emma’s wardrobe. It crossed her mind that if it weren’t for her mom, she would have very few nice outfits. Had she even properly thanked her for the gifts? Emma found her phone and dialed her mother.
“Is something wrong?” her mom asked instead of saying hello.
She really needed to call her mom more often. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to thank you for the outfits you bought me this Christmas. And the shoes.”
“Oh.”
She needed to thank her mother more often too. Then maybe she wouldn’t sound so surprised.
“I’m glad you like them, but what’s the occasion? Hot date?”
“It is a date, but don’t sound so hopeful. It’s only business.”
“What kind of business meeting would call for Jimmy Choos? And besides that, how do you expect to ever get married if you don’t start dating again? You’ve barely gone out with anyone since you broke up with Trey last year, and I’d really like to have grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
“That’ll never happen.” Where was her black satin clutch?
“What? That I won’t be too old or you’re not getting married?”
The memory of Sam’s kiss sent her heart rate spiraling. “Relationships never work out for me.”
“They would if you worked at it instead of giving up.”
You’re a fine one to talk. Emma bit the words back even though her mom had been the one who walked away from the marriage, not her dad.
“Who is this meeting with?”
Emma checked the back of her closet door where her other handbags were and found the purse she was looking for. “I’m not sure you know Corey Chandler, but he’s the one who invited me to dinner to discuss a business matter.”
“Did you say Corey Chandler? The attorney? He asked you out?”
“Yes.” The total surprise in her mother’s voice again rubbed Emma like a cactus. Maybe she should’ve let her mom know that she did date sometimes. “You know Corey?”
“Yes. I met him when he was with Cooper, Rossetti, and Thompson here in Jackson. He’s extremely bright, except for the fact that he set up practice in Natchez. The Jackson law firm was about to make him a partner.”
“I’ll ask him why he gave up a lucrative practice to move to Natchez,” Emma said. She transferred her driver’s license and keys from her backpack to the small purse and then decided to throw in a tube of lip gloss.
“Don’t you dare. That would make you appear nosy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She was trying not to laugh.
“Wait, I remember now. Corey interned with Wendall Peterson, and he lured Corey down there three years ago with an offer of a partnership.”
Emma had forgotten those particulars. “Didn’t Wendall up and die less than a year later with a heart attack?”
“Yes, and Corey inherited the practice. I understand he’s doing quite well for himself there.”
“Well, we’re just friends,” she said.
“What better way to start a relationship.”
Her mother was terrible. A call beeped in on Emma’s phone, and she glanced at the ID. Corey. “Gotta go, my ‘date’ is here,” she said.
“Don’t joke,” her mom said. “And tell him I said hello.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Emma switched the calls. “Hello?”
“Good evening. I’m out front and wanted to let you know I’ll be at your door in less than a minute.”
“You don’t have to come up the stairs, I’ll come down.”
“Never. Besides, I’m already here,” he said as the doorbell rang.
It was a good time to try out the doorbell camera Sam had installed, and she switched over to the camera app on her phone. The image of Corey at her door, adjusting his tie, appeared in real time. She quickly opened the door. “Come in.”
Wow. He looked good. Instead of his normal navy suit, he’d dressed down in black chinos and a cashmere sweater over a button-down shirt. Heat crept into her face when she realized he’d caught her admiring him. “Coming upstairs really wasn’t necessary.”
“But it was,” he said as he stepped past her. “And your front door shouldn’t have been unlocked.”
“Five minutes more and it would have been locked,” she said.
“Good.” Corey glanced around the room. “I love these old houses, and when one is turned into apartments, I’m always interested in seeing how it turned out.”
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. Sam. “I need to take this,” she said. “Look around.”
As he walked around her living room, she turned away from him and pressed the answer button. “Do you have any news on the Selbys?”
“There’s been no change in either of their conditions,” he said. “The doctors said the next twenty-four hours will be critical.”
“I hope they make it. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You sound . . . odd. Is someone with you?”
“Yes. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Wait. I wanted to let you know that I decided to enter the information from Mary Jo’s case into ViCAP. I’ll let you know if I get a hit.”
ViCAP? The acronym sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place what it was. “What is that?”
“Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.”
She remembered now. She’d heard it mentioned on a reality police show recently. The detective had used the program to discover if there were any crimes similar to the one he was working on. “Let me know what you find out.”
“Look . . . I don’t think you should go out with Chandler,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Too late.” Thank goodness she wasn’t on speaker. Talking about Corey while he stood nearby was getting sticky. “Thanks again for calling.”
“Just be careful tonight.”
“I will.” She felt like making a face at the phone. Sam was persistent if nothing else.
“Call me if you feel the least bit uncomfortable, and I’ll come get you. I won’t be far from the Guest House.”
“There won’t be any need for that.” This was getting ridiculous, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. “Goodbye.”
His answering goodbye was almost a growl. She slipped her phone in the black satin clutch and turned to Corey. “What do you think?”
“You look nice. Really nice.”
Her face heated again. “I was talking about the apartment.”
“Oh. I like what they did. Whoever made the renovation maintained the integrity of the house.”
“I think so too. You seem to know a lot about carpentry.”
“It’s one of my hobbies,” he said.
“That’s interesting,” she said, adding the information to her knowledge of the attorney. “And by the way, you look nice too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a tie.”
He touched his collar. “I suppose you haven’t, but maybe we can remedy that. Shall we go? Our reser
vation is for six fifteen . . .”
She locked the door behind them, then followed him down the steps.
“How much longer will you have to wear the brace?” he asked.
“A couple more weeks.”
“I’m sure it’s a terrible inconvenience.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said with a laugh. “Especially during the dig last week.”
“Did you tell me you finished the excavation for the sheriff?”
Emma’s breath hitched. She didn’t want to discuss Ryan with Corey. “If not, I’m telling you now. There won’t be any more digging at the slave cemetery.”
“Good. My client will be very happy to hear that.”
By the end of the evening, maybe she would have the name of that client. She allowed Corey to escort her to a white Lexus and open the passenger door for her. “Is the car new?” Emma asked as she slid across the pristine white leather seat.
“No. Three years old,” he said. “I bought it right after I arrived in Natchez.”
“How do you keep it so new-looking?” she asked once he was in the driver’s seat.
“I have a pickup I use for dirty work.” He pushed the start button and pulled away from the curb.
Emma tried to picture him in a pickup. Corey Chandler just didn’t seem the type. “I gather it isn’t a monster truck.”
He laughed. “You are delightful. No, it’s a late-model four-wheel drive.” Then he turned somber. “I want you to understand I wasn’t listening to your phone conversation, but I got the feeling you’d gotten bad news.”
She’d tried to keep her voice down, but the apartment wasn’t that big. “I have a couple of friends in the hospital, and I’d hoped to hear they were better.”
“They’re not?”
“No. Still critical.” Emma didn’t want to get into particulars. She held the armrest as he made a sharp turn and drove toward the downtown area.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Oh, my mom said to tell you hello.”
He stopped for a traffic light, and Emma sensed Corey looking at her and turned toward him.
“Your mother remembers me?”
“Yes, and she spoke highly of you.”
53
Sam had arrived back at Emma’s apartment building with the two license plate readers in time to see Corey Chandler’s white Lexus pull away from the curb. With darkness closing in, he’d been tempted to wait until morning to install the cameras, but he was here and he had a good hanging lantern he could use. By the time he’d installed and synced them, it was almost seven.
Sam’s stomach growled. Emma’s sandwich hadn’t stuck with him, and he was tempted to drop by the Guest House and grab a bite before he entered the data into the programs. But if Emma happened to see him, she would assume he was jealous. And he wasn’t. Sam simply didn’t trust the attorney.
Instead he drove to his sister’s house and was glad to see Jenny’s car wasn’t parked out front. He might as well enter the data into RISS and ViCAP from the house. He set his computer on the bar and noticed Jenny had cooked, and whatever it was smelled delicious. While the computer booted up, he peeked inside the pots on the stove. Green beans, a roast, and potatoes. She hadn’t mentioned company was coming. He was tempted to fix himself a plate, but she may not have expected him to eat, and so he settled for another sandwich and took it to his room. He’d just finished it when the front door opened.
“We’re home,” Jenny called.
“I’m in my room.”
A minute later his sister knocked softly. “I didn’t think you’d be back so early.”
Jace pushed past her. “You should’ve been at practice! I made two goals.”
“Son, don’t bother your uncle. He’s busy,” she said.
“I’m not busy yet.” Sam snapped his laptop closed and shifted his full attention to Jace. “Say practice was good?”
The boy nodded. “Coach is letting me start tomorrow’s game.” He turned to his mother, who was chewing on her thumbnail. “I’m hungry.”
“Well, we can’t eat until Granna gets here. Did you wash your hands after you got home?” His nephew looked down at his hands and shook his head. “Go and wash. Now.” Jenny pointed toward the bathroom.
“Aww, I wanted to tell Sam about the game and—”
“Now, young man.” She looked up but avoided Sam’s eyes. “Flu is raging in this town.”
He could tell something was bothering Jenny other than her son’s hands. After he left, Sam said, “Mom’s coming for dinner? Something special going on I don’t know about?”
“Uh . . . no.” Jenny took a deep breath. “Dad’s coming too.”
Sam stared at her. “Did you say . . .”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, that’s exactly what I said. Dad’s coming with Mom.” She checked her watch. “And they’ll be here in ten minutes. I almost didn’t tell you because I really wish you would talk to him . . .”
Sam’s jaw went rigid, and he pressed his lips in a thin line. “How can you—”
“But if you can’t be civil, I’d rather you leave.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” He grabbed his computer bag and slid the laptop inside. She followed him to the front door. “I don’t get it,” he said. “After the way he beat Mom down emotionally, cheated on her . . . the way he’s been all his life, how can you just act like nothing’s wrong?”
“He’s changed, Sam. You’d see that if you would talk to him.”
He jutted his jaw. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen for his con.”
“I can’t believe you won’t even hear him out.”
For an answer, Sam slammed the door behind him and hopped in his SUV. He spun out of the drive, headed to the Port Gibson District Headquarters. When he reached the Trace, he reminded himself to slow down to the fifty-mile-an-hour speed limit.
He didn’t understand how Jenny could betray him like this. And his mother. How could she take Martin Ryker back again? He tried to block images of being whipped with a leather belt, but they surfaced anyway, morphing into the times when his father’s words hurt worse than the belt.
No! He would not give his father power over him. Sam forced his grip on the steering wheel to loosen and focused on the narrow two-lane road. Thoughts of his dad crept in, and his hands tightened on the wheel again.
Whatever is true, whatever is . . . Not now. He blocked the words from the verse in Philippians his mom had made him memorize as a kid. Sam wanted to think about the wrongs his dad had done. It kept the anger fresh.
He braked as his headlights caught a deer on the side of the road. The magnificent buck turned his antlered head toward him, then raised his white tail and jumped away from the road. He released the breath trapped in his chest. Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely . . . think on those things . . .
Was it possible his dad had changed? Even if he had, after what he’d done to Sam . . . his father didn’t deserve forgiveness.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
More of his mom’s influence. And what about Emma? He wanted her to forgive him . . . He brushed the thoughts away and focused on watching for deer.
Before long, he pulled into the Port Gibson office and parked under the outside light beside Clayton’s SUV. He grabbed his computer and hurried inside the low building, where his field ranger sat at one of the two desks that were in the larger room. “No lingering effects from Friday night?” Sam asked.
Clayton shook his head. “No. After whatever was in the coffee wore off, I was good. Did you get the report back on what was in it?”
“Clonazepam. It’s used for seizures and sometimes anxiety.” Something Sam could use about now. “Too much and it’ll knock you out.”
“I’m assuming too much can kill you as well.”
“Right.” Sam sat at the empty desk and booted up his computer.
“Need anything before I hit the Trace? Brooke made
coffee first thing this morning, so I’m pretty sure it’s strong.”
“I’ll pass,” Sam said with a laugh. After Clayton left, he connected to the internet and pulled up the RISS portal and logged in. He would try the regional program first, and if he didn’t get a hit there, he’d log into ViCAP, which was an FBI program that covered the whole United States. He had most of the information entered when the door opened and Brooke entered the office. She laid her flat hat on the desk Clayton had vacated.
“Many speeders out there today?” Sam asked. It was hard for drivers to adhere to the fifty-mile-an-hour speed.
“A few. Mostly doing fifty-five. Since I was feeling magnanimous today,” she said, looking at her engagement ring, “I handed out a couple of warnings. Did you find someone to shadow Emma?”
“I did.” Sam leaned closer to his laptop. “Looks like I got a hit,” he said.
“On what?”
As he opened the file, Sam told her about the shootings and about Mary Jo receiving daisies from an unknown person. “I uploaded all the information into RISS.”
“And the database returned more murders similar to Mary Jo’s?”
He scanned over the file. “Looks like it. Let me print this out.”
54
Emma had never eaten at the Guest House. They’d parked on the street and walked through a small French Quarter courtyard with a fountain that would be wonderful to dine in during the spring and autumn. A little chilly for tonight, though. A hostess showed them to a table inside, and Corey held her chair out for her.
“Thank you,” she said as he scooted her closer. “I love this place. It’s so cozy.”
“Maybe we can come back one evening when it’s not business related.”
Smile. Emma didn’t want to get the evening off to a wrong start, and she forced her lips upward in what she hoped didn’t look like a grimace. Sam was right about Corey being interested in her.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked as their waitress approached.
Emma looked up. Amy was stitched over her pocket. “Is the coffee good here, Amy?”
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