Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

  The older man sighed. “I just have one more thing to say, Samuel, and then I’ll leave you alone. If you hold on to this hatred, it will destroy you.”

  With those words, he closed the window, and the car slowly rolled toward the Trace. Was it possible his father had changed? “You’ll never amount to anything.” The memory of the words hardened his heart, and Sam turned and walked to his SUV.

  He checked his watch. A little after eight. Emma probably wasn’t home from her dinner with Corey Chandler, and Sam certainly didn’t want to go to his sister’s and face that inquisition. Why was his dad driving Jenny’s car, anyway? If Sam were a betting man, he’d bet his dad lost his in a card game. Drinking and gambling had been his vices of choice.

  When he parked in front of Emma’s apartment, her lights were on. Sam climbed out of his SUV and used the key she’d given him to unlock the front door. Once inside, he hurried up the stairs and rang Emma’s doorbell. Surprise showed on her face when she opened the door.

  “Sam? I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” She stepped back. “Come on in.”

  “Are you busy?” he asked as he crossed the threshold into the entry hall.

  “Just posting a few things on Facebook,” she said.

  “You seemed surprised when you opened the door,” he said. “Didn’t you check the camera app?”

  “I did. I’m just surprised you came back. Would you like a cup of decaf?”

  “Not tonight. I thought you might like to know what I found out from RISS.” He couldn’t keep from noticing she wore makeup and that she’d dressed up. For Corey? Not necessarily for him, but he had taken her to a nice restaurant, and it was only natural she’d dressed accordingly. Maybe it was time he asked her out to someplace special.

  “Well?” She followed him into the living room. “What did you find out?”

  Sam brought his attention back to the case. “Are you off tomorrow?”

  She nodded.

  “You want to drive up to Jackson in the morning?” He explained what he’d discovered. “I have a nine thirty appointment with the detective in charge of the investigation at the Hinds County Sheriff’s Department.”

  “I’d love to.” Then she eyed him suspiciously. “But I thought you were cutting me out of the investigation.”

  He didn’t want to tell her he feared she might get into more trouble on her own than if she was with him. “You want to go or not?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “Okay!” He raised his hands. “If I’m not going to be in town, I like knowing you’re safe.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. How about Oxford? Will we go there as well?”

  “It depends on how much time it takes in Jackson. Oxford is not quite two hours from the capital, but it’d be a four-hour trip back.”

  “What time do you want to leave?”

  “Seven thirty, quarter to eight?” His cell phone rang. Nate. “Ryker,” he answered.

  “I have the directions to Trey’s cabin,” Nate said. “I’m emailing them to you.”

  “Thanks. Which direction is it in?”

  “It’s thirty miles south of Natchez off 61, back in the boonies,” Nate said. “You don’t want to try to find it at night.”

  “Do you know how long he planned to be off?” Maybe he could wait until Trey returned to work.

  “He said a few days.”

  “I’m going to Jackson tomorrow morning. If I get back in time, would you like to ride along to his cabin?”

  “Probably a good idea. I’ve at least been there once.”

  Sam disconnected and turned to Emma. “Sorry.”

  “What was that about?”

  “Trey. Did you know he worked for the park service maintenance crew during the summers when he was in college? And he operated the backhoes.”

  “You’re kidding. That means he would be familiar with how they work. Have you asked him about it?”

  “Not yet. He’s off hunting, and that was Nate giving me directions to his cabin. I hope I have time to look him up tomorrow, which means we definitely won’t be going to Oxford.”

  “You don’t seriously think he killed Ryan and buried him at Mount Locust, do you?”

  “Someone did.”

  “But that would mean he killed Mary Jo and these other cases you found as well. I just don’t see Trey doing anything like that.”

  “You never completely know a person. He and Gordon and your brother were drinking that night, and they could’ve gotten into a fight after they left the tavern.” His mother’s ringtone sounded on his cell phone. “Hold on a minute. It’s my mom.” He punched the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Sam, you have to come to the hospital.”

  His heart pounded in his chest. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “It’s not me. It’s your dad. He’s had a heart attack.”

  57

  As he listened to the live feed on his phone, he cleaned the .22 rifle and laid it next to the .22 semiautomatic pistol that had been his mother’s gun.

  The bug had proven to be invaluable. It kept him one step ahead of Ryker, but now another problem had cropped up. One he should have taken care of a long time ago. He picked up the pistol, aimed it at the door, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

  Click.

  He frowned. Ryker was going to talk with the investigators in Jackson and Oxford. Had he put the murders together? It didn’t matter if he had. There was nothing linking him to the cases.

  Both women had been just like his mother. He’d tried to tell them the men they were dating were no good, but just like his mother, they wouldn’t listen. They kept taking the men back time after time. He hadn’t meant to kill them. The men, yes, but not them.

  Just like he would kill Ryker. And soon too.

  Suddenly memories bombarded him, spiraling him down the rabbit hole. He was a boy again, holding his mother’s hand. She was acting strange, like she’d taken too many of her happy pills, and she smelled funny. A scent he now recognized as whiskey.

  They walked up the steps to the old house, and he was scared.

  “Mama, I thought Daddy was at work.”

  “Hush, boy. We don’t want him to hear us.”

  As quiet as mice, they crept inside. Voices. His daddy’s and someone else’s. A woman. Why did his mama have a gun?

  “No!” That was his daddy yelling. The woman screamed.

  Bang!

  He pressed his hands against his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

  When he opened them, his daddy was leaning over his mama. “Why, Margaret? Why did you do it?”

  He stared at the blood pooling around his mother’s body. It was all his fault. He should have protected her. This would never again happen to someone he loved.

  Static on the bug jerked him back to the present. It was time to take care of his new problem, one he hadn’t anticipated. Why were people so greedy? If he paid him to keep his mouth shut, it would only be the beginning.

  He glanced down at the directions he’d been given to bring the money. Only it wasn’t money he was delivering and not at the appointed time. It would be done tonight, then he would be free to follow Ryker to Jackson. Maybe he would even have the opportunity to dispose of the ranger.

  58

  Sam had turned chalk white. “What’s wrong?” Emma asked when he disconnected.

  He tapped his phone against his hand. “It’s . . . my father. He’s had a heart attack, and Mom wants me to come to the hospital.”

  “I’ll go with you. Give me a second to change into jeans.” She hurried to the hall.

  “I don’t know that I’m going.”

  Emma stopped and turned around. “You have to. Your mother needs you. And Jenny. She needs you too.”

  Sam paced her living room floor. He stopped by the window. “What if I’m responsible for his heart attack?”

  “That’s crazy thinking,” she said.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it is
n’t. He came by the Port Gibson office while I was there tonight. Wanted to apologize . . . asked for my forgiveness.”

  “And you didn’t give it to him.”

  “I can’t.”

  She took his hand. “No, Sam,” she said gently. “It’s not that you can’t forgive him, it’s that you won’t.”

  His face hardened. “You don’t understand.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned and faced the window. “I have scars on my back where he whipped me with a leather belt until the blood ran down my legs. I was ten, and he was drunk and told me to get him another beer. I made the mistake of telling him he’d had enough.”

  Emma pressed her fingers to her mouth. She’d had no idea.

  He turned to her. “Even as bad as the scars on my back are, the scars he created inside me after that are harder to bear. Mom threatened to have him arrested if he ever hit me again, and she made him go to rehab.”

  “So, it got better?”

  He barely raised one shoulder. “He never hit me again, but he never lost an opportunity to tell me how worthless I was. I can’t count the times he told me he wished I’d never been born, that he could’ve had a good life if it hadn’t been for me.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close the way she would a child who was hurt. Slowly he relaxed, and she laid her head against his chest, hearing the thud of his heart. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It hardly seems fair that he lives his life the way he wants to, and at the end, it’s all wiped away. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  She searched for words to comfort him with, but the only ones that came to her were likely to anger Sam. “None of us deserve it.”

  Emma felt his breath still as her words brought a thick silence.

  “Yeah, that’s what my mom always says.” He was silent for a minute, then he said, “Forgiveness should be true, from the heart. Not because it’s what I’m supposed to do. I don’t feel like forgiving him.”

  “Sometimes we do the right thing even when we don’t feel like it,” she said. “If you do, the feelings will follow. Eventually.”

  “Fake it until you make it?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

  “Something like that.” She didn’t seem to be getting through to him. “Maybe if you knew why he was like he was, it would help bring closure.”

  “I don’t need closure. I just need everyone to get off my back about him.”

  “But he’s not the only one affected. Your mom needs you right now, and you’re not there. I think you should go to the hospital if for no other reason than to be with her. And your sister.”

  Sam stared at her, resistance stamped on his face, but there was something more, something she recognized. Guilt. That she knew well. “I’ll go with you.” She tugged him toward the door.

  Surprisingly he followed. When she turned to lock her door, he said, “I’m just going to support Mom and Jenny. I’m not going in to see him.”

  “That’s up to you, but if he dies before you work this out, you’ll be the one left behind. What if down the road, you have regrets? Regrets you’ll deal with the rest of your life.” She knew how that felt, but could she tell Sam? “I . . .” She swallowed and began again. “I would give anything to tell Ryan I’m sorry for what I said to him the night he disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never told anyone. We were alone and Ryan was being Ryan. Mean drunk. I . . . told him I wished he’d leave and never come back. Those were the last words I ever spoke to him.”

  “Oh, Emma.” He put his arms around her. “You didn’t mean it, and he knew that.”

  “That’s just it—I did mean it. I was so angry. He’d ruined our birthday—we’d had a good time until he kept drinking and got nasty.” She looked up at him. “Now he’s gone, and I can’t take back the words. If you don’t give your dad a chance, you’ll never know what might be.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  He stared at her for a long minute. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.”

  Sam followed her to his SUV and opened the passenger door. By the time she had her seat belt fastened, he was getting in on the other side. Emma’s apartment was only five minutes from the hospital, and they were soon walking through the doors of the emergency room waiting area, where they were told his dad had been transferred to the ICU.

  They rode the elevator in silence, and after they stepped off, they followed the signs to the ICU waiting room. His mom, Rachel, stood when she saw Sam, and Emma followed as he went straight to her. Emma squeezed her hand when Rachel turned to her. “Thank you for coming.”

  She nodded and stepped back as Sam’s sister leaned into his hug, totally ignoring Emma except for shooting a hard glare at her. She believed the woman truly hated her.

  “How is he?” Emma asked Rachel.

  “They’re getting him ready for a heart cath,” she replied. “His cardiologist believes he has a blockage in the main artery that’s barely letting blood through.”

  “Are they going to do surgery?” Sam asked.

  “The doctor hopes he can put a stent in the artery and not have to open him up, but if not, yes.”

  Sam nodded and turned to Jenny. “Where’s Jace?”

  “I dropped him off at a friend’s house.”

  The Ryker name was called, and everyone turned toward the nurse who approached them. “Mrs. Ryker?”

  Rachel nodded.

  “He wants to see you before we take him to the cath lab,” she said.

  His mother turned to Sam. “Come with us. Please.”

  He stiffened and shook his head. “I . . . I can’t.”

  Emma didn’t know how he could turn down the pleading in his mother’s eyes. Then his mother’s shoulders dropped and she lifted her chin. “No. You’re choosing not to go with us.” Still holding her head high, she followed the nurse through the ICU doors.

  “Come on, Sam,” Jenny said. “It won’t kill you, and it may save his life.”

  His head jerked back as though she’d slapped him. Emma touched his arm. “You don’t have to say anything, but your presence might make a difference. Give him something to fight for.”

  She thought he was going to refuse, but just before the doors closed, Sam swallowed hard. “Hold the door,” he said.

  59

  They stopped outside a room with a curtain pulled across the window. Sam’s mother looked up at him. “Thanks, son. I know this is hard.”

  He pressed his lips together to keep from asking how she could be there. And why was she taking care of her ex-husband now after the way he’d treated her? While Sam had never seen his mother physically abused by his father, Sam had seen him ridicule her, and he knew for a fact he’d cheated on her.

  When his mom discovered the lashes on Sam’s back, she had kicked his dad out of the house until he got help with his anger issues and drinking problem. Then his old man had conned her into letting him come home after completing an alcohol rehab. She’d finally divorced him when she caught him cheating with a neighbor, but by that time Sam was out of the house. What in the world had he said to get back in her good graces?

  Sam was drawn to the bed in spite of his resolve. The man lying in the bed was pasty with dark shadows under his eyes. Broken was the only word Sam could think of to describe how he looked. How much had he actually changed? He apologized. Sam had to admit the man he remembered never believed he’d done anything to apologize for.

  His dad’s eyes fluttered open, then widened, and became shiny.

  “You came,” he whispered.

  Sam waited for the dig to come, words like You must think you’re going to get something out of this. Or What do you want?

  Instead his dad simply smiled. “Thank you.”

  Sam nodded curtly as his mother and sister crowded closer to the bed. “You’re going to be fine,” his mother said. “The doctor is very optimisti
c that he can patch you up.”

  “Yeah, Dad,” Jenny said. “Just hang in there.”

  “You’re a good woman, Rachel. You too, Jenny. I don’t deserve you.” His gaze never left Sam’s face. “You either, son.”

  Sam couldn’t keep from flinching, and pain crossed his father’s eyes.

  “Could you leave me and Sam alone a minute?” he asked.

  Panic surged through him. He didn’t want to be alone with this man. Sam may have already caused him to have one heart attack. Maybe what his dad said was true, and he couldn’t do anything right.

  “You sure?” his mother asked, looking from her husband to her son.

  “If he’ll stay . . .” His dad’s voice trailed off.

  “I’ll stay.” He had no choice. But it didn’t mean Sam had to believe anything his father said.

  “We’ll be in the waiting room.” The two women stepped outside the room.

  When they were alone, his dad said, “I want to thank you for taking care of your mother when I let her down.”

  Sam wasn’t expecting that. “I didn’t have much choice.” He cringed at the bitterness in his voice—exactly what he’d been afraid of. He tried again. “I hear you have a brokerage firm now.”

  “Yeah. I know you didn’t have a choice.” The monitor over his head beeped faster as his heart rate increased. “I was a miserable failure as a husband and a father. I want you to know I don’t blame you for not forgiving me.”

  He stared at the man in the bed. Sometimes we do the right thing even when we don’t feel like it. “How about we talk about this after your surgery? Who knows, maybe we can work something out.”

  His dad’s eyes widened, then he blinked them furiously. “Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking. “That’s more than I ever hoped for.”

  It took all Sam had in him to not look away. “Why don’t I get Mom and Jenny back in here before they come after you.”

  His dad gave him a thumbs-up.