Secret Sacrifices

by Jannifer Hoffman

  Jamie’s back straightened. She crossed her arms over her chest and faced him with narrow eyes. “What’s this about, Ralph?”

  “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “I don’t need to sit down.”

  Sampson pulled a square of nicotine gum from his coat pocket, unwrapped it, and folded it into his mouth. He took a moment to chew before he spoke. “We found three sets of fingerprints on the steering wheel of the car that ran you off the road.”

  Jamie’s heart kicked up. “Whose?”

  “Ray Bentler and his son Markus. Bentler loaned the car to Markus the day before.”

  “What about the third set?” Jamie asked.

  “We don’t know. What we do know is the prints match those from another crime scene.”

  “Jim Bodean’s?” Jamie asked, incredulously.

  “No, not Bodean. Something that happened twenty-three years ago.”

  “How can something that happened that long ago be connected with me? I was just a child.”

  “I know. I’m not sure how to tell you, Jamie. I can’t think of a way to make this easier for you. The person who drove Bentler’s car that night was the same person suspected of murdering your mother.”

  Jamie felt the blood drain from her face. She heard the water running in the bathroom, the pulse pounding in her head. In the space of what must have been only a few moments her mind went over the entire police scene after her mother’s death. Nowhere in the fog of her memory was the word murder used.

  She was only vaguely aware that someone was knocking on the door until Sampson opened it and let Quint into the room.

  Quint took one look at her, put his hands on her upper arms and gave her a light shake. “Jamie? Honey? Are you okay?”

  She looked up, focusing her eyes on Quint. “My mother was murdered?”

  Quint pulled Jamie into his arms, looking over her head at Detective Sampson. “What is she talking about?”

  Sampson’s sympathetic gaze turned to Quint. “We found evidence suggesting that the person who ran Jamie off the road Tuesday night was the same person suspected in her mother’s death.”

  “Jesus.” Quint held Jamie back so he could look in her ashen face. “You told me you didn’t know how your mother died.”

  “I didn’t. They wouldn’t tell me. At least now I know why they were so closed mouthed about it.” Jamie glanced at the bathroom. “I need to turn the water off in the tub before we have a flood. Excuse me a minute.”

  Jamie stopped the flow of water into the nearly full bathtub. She took a minute to get her breathing under control before returning to the sitting room in time to hear Quint rounding on Sampson.

  “Was it really necessary to spring this on her the day before she has to qualify on that God awful track?”

  Sampson’s chest expanded from a deeply drawn breath of air. “I’m afraid it was. You see, Katherine Devon was killed right here in Richmond, after a race. She had a boyfriend at the time who was the only suspect. Unfortunately, he had an alibi. I need to question Jamie, find out if she remembers anything.”

  “Question me about what?” Jamie asked. “Something that happened when I was five years old?”

  “We don’t have much to go on,” Sampson said, apologetically. “I know it’s a long shot, but… Can you tell me anything about your mother’s life or the men she was seeing?”

  Jamie shook her head. “I couldn’t even be sure if I’d be telling you things I actually remember or things I’ve imagined or heard since then.”

  Sampson gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll take that into account. Do you remember her boyfriend?”

  Jamie nodded. “Yes…Wally. He was tall and thin, very nice looking, and he was always polite to me. They never took me with them when they went out. I stayed with a sitter.”

  “Were there any other men in her life?”

  “None that I know of.”

  Sampson pulled a notebook and pen from his vest pocket. He jotted something down, “Do you recall the last day you saw her? Where she went?”

  Jamie swallowed, blinking rapidly at the moisture pooling in her eyes. “Yes, she went with Wally to the race. They came home, he left, and then she left a few minutes later. I never saw her again.” She managed a smile for Quint. “Don’t worry about me qualifying tomorrow. It may sound odd but stress actually enhances my driving.”

  Quint squeezed her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “That shouldn’t surprise me, but I’ll worry anyway, if you don’t mind.”

  “How was my mother killed?” she asked Sampson.

  Sampson flipped his notebook shut and tucked it back in his pocket. He glanced briefly at Quint. “I’m glad you’re here with her, Mr. Douglas.” His gaze settled on Jamie again. “Her car slammed into a bridge overpass. It’s not clear if she was killed on impact or if she was dead before the car hit.”

  “How can you be sure she was murdered then?” Jamie asked.

  “There was a large socket wrench laying on the floorboards by the accelerator. There appeared to be no good reason for it to be there. They suspected it was the wedge that held the accelerator to the floor. A smeared print was found on the wrench—like someone had tried to wipe it off—and another on the steering wheel.”

  “Were they identified?” Quint asked.

  “No, but they match those on the steering wheel of the car that pushed Jamie off the road. That won’t necessarily prove the same person killed Katherine, but at least we’d have a good suspect. I think we could prove that he was the driver who hit Jamie on the freeway.”

  “Christ. Why would someone try to kill Jamie after all these years?”

  “That’s why we believe someone in NASCAR is involved. Plus the wrench that was found was the type used in those days to tighten lug nuts on the cars. That, at least, narrows the age-factor on the search for your mother’s killer. Just for your information, Jamie, your father was cleared. He spent the evening with the rest of the crew celebrating. Their team took a first place that day.” Sampson reached up to scratch the back of his head. “And maybe it’s just a coincidence that Jim Bodean was killed a few hours before somebody tried to ram your car into the next county. It just seems mighty suspicious. I haven’t found a way to tie the two together though.”

  Jamie’s eyes flicked to meet Quint’s stare for just a fraction of a second.

  Sampson caught the exchange. “Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” he asked.

  “No,” they said simultaneously.

  Simpson grunted. “Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll be staying at the Sleep Easy Hotel a few blocks away. It’s not quite as fancy as this place but I’m on a tight budget. Unfortunately, they couldn’t afford to send my partner with me.” He chuckled. “Downright shame, ain’t it?” He handed Jamie a card. “Here’s the number for the hotel. I’m in room 208. Call me if you think of anything. From back when you were a child, to Bodean’s death, or anything in between. Even if you think it might be insignificant. I’d appreciate it if you kept the fingerprint information to yourselves. It might muddy the waters.”

  Sampson gave them an informal salute and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Jamie sank into a chair and looked up at Quint. “Do you think we should tell him about being at Clay’s house that night?”

  Quint pulled up a footstool and sat down in front of her with his legs spread on either side of her. He placed his hands on her knees. “My answer would be, not just yet. Let’s see if they can come up with a connection first. Maybe I should call Virg and ask his advice. I’d also like Virg to get the files on your mother’s death. Maybe we can figure something out on our own. Did you live here in Richmond when she died, or were you visiting?”

  Jamie shrugged. “We must have lived here because I was at home that night, not in a hotel room.”

  Quint leaned toward her and placed a kiss on her forehead. “It sounded like you were ready to hop in the tub when Sampson got here. Why don�
�t you go do that before it gets cold while I call Virg. If you use lots of bubbles I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”

  Jamie smiled. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day, but why the bubbles?”

  “So I’ll be less tempted to jump in with you.”

  “It’s a big tub.”

  “Are you baiting me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Quint grinned. “I read somewhere that taking a bath together is a great way to get to know each other.”

  “Do you do all your reading on bathroom walls?”

  “Just the interesting stuff,” Quint said, laughing.

  When Jamie smiled, Quint cupped her chin in his hand. “Whatever you’re thinking, keep that thought. We’ll get through all this nasty stuff, and then your life will be back to normal.” Quint slapped a hand on his forehead. “God, for a moment there I forgot that normal for you is doing a rerun of Custer’s Last Stand once a week.”

  Still smiling, Jamie wriggled past him and out of her chair. “Next time you do wall reading look up the part where Indians never have sex the night before they go into battle. It’s bad luck.”

  “Great,” Quint said. “You get me all excited inviting me into your tub, and then you tell me it’s just to take a bath.” He grinned as the bathroom door closed behind her delectable backside. He loved it when she acted saucy.

  He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed Virg’s number. On the fourth ring his cousin answered.

  “Yeah! You got Virg here.”

  “Well, it took you long enough. I was just about to hang up.”

  Virg laughed. “I was busy. You think you’re the only one with a sex life?”

  “I could have sworn I heard a toilet flush in the background.”

  “Yeah, kinky, huh?”

  “Sounds like you got your Viagra and laxatives mixed up again.”

  “Ah, little cuz, you know me too well. Actually, I just drove Mom and Dad to the airport. They’re flying to Minnesota to be with Corinne. She went into premature labor.”

  “Is she okay?” Quint asked.

  “I think so, but the doc put her on bed rest, so… you know how mothers are.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good feeling to have somebody around who cares as much as she does. Not everybody has that.”

  “You talking about Ms. LeCorre by any chance? What kind of trouble are you two into now?”

  “Well—”

  “Go ahead spit it out.”

  “Considering you’re Jamie’s lifetime lawyer, we need to get some police records. It turns out her mother, Katherine Devon, was killed twenty-three years ago. They matched the fingerprints from her murder scene with those on the steering wheel of the car that tried to run Jamie off the road, but they can’t identify the person. Can you, acting as Jamie’s legal council, get a copy of the police report?”

  “Should be able to. Do you have a date and location where the investigation took place?”

  “Right here in Richmond. Buster’s team had a win that day, so it shouldn’t be too hard to pin down a date. Jamie could help with that.”

  “Let me check my schedule,” Virg said. A moment later he was back on. “I don’t have to be in court until Wednesday next week. I could stay over Sunday night and check it out on Monday. I’ll see you at the track before the race on Sunday.”

  “Thanks, Virg, you’re a sweetheart.”

  “Christ, I hope we have separate rooms when I get there.”

  Quint disconnected the phone, laughing. He glanced once at the bathroom door, then punched in the auto dial for Virg’s sister, Corinne.

  Jamie lit three aromatic candles, switched off the lights, climbed into the big tub, and sank down up to her chin in the frothy bubbles. Instead of relaxing she reflected on the information delivered by Ralph Sampson. Her time in a Jacuzzi was one of her greatest pleasures, but the visit from him had put a serious damper on her enjoyment.

  The knowledge that her mother was deliberately killed was more devastating to her than she wanted to admit. The memory of her mother was vague, but the fear and loneliness and sense of abandonment after she died were a raw wound that Jamie thought had healed.

  Something else nagged at her, something that happened that night so long ago. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but somehow she believed it was important. The only person she knew who really hated her mother was Buster. Ralph said he’d been with the crew all night, but nobody knew better than she did how a tight crew stuck together. Would they have lied for him? They all knew how Katherine deserted him and T-Roy.

  She laid her head back and tried to think, to remember.

  She must have dozed off because a knock on the door startled her.

  She quickly surveyed the volume of soap bubbles around her. “Come in,” she called.

  Quint managed to open the door holding, two glasses and a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay.

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t remember that being here.”

  “It wasn’t. I brought it with me. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. You were in a bit of a daze when I walked in on you and Sampson. He delivered quite a blow, didn’t he?”

  She blew out a puff of air, causing the bubbles around her to stir. “Now I know how those cartoon characters feel when they get flattened by a steam roller.”

  “Considering the day you have planned tomorrow and again Sunday, I hope you bounce back as easily.”

  She watched him fill the glasses he’d set on the edge of the tub. “I’m conditioned to be a quick bounce-backer.”

  “I don’t think bounce-backer is a word,” Quint said handing her a glass, smiling. “You mind if I sit a while?” he asked, perching himself on the tub surround.

  Jamie took a sip of wine and made a rapturous sound of pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes drooping lazily. “You have too many clothes on.”

  Quint’s smile vanished. “Jamie, if I come in there, it’s not going to be to take a bath.”

  She didn’t say anything but she kept her eyes on his face and moved to one corner to make room for him.

  Quint hesitated. He wanted to join her more than he wanted to breathe, but he’d had a battle with himself ever since he’d watched that tape of her crash in the Indianapolis race. He honestly didn’t know if he could stand by and watch her going around that track every week. He had resolved not to touch her again until he was sure.

  But the challenge in her eyes played havoc with his resolve.

  He drained his wine and refilled the glass. Then a shocking thought hit him. Had their roles reversed? Was he trying to get drunk enough to make love to her? Who was he kidding? No amount of wine would make him drunk enough to do something he didn’t want to do, and he wanted to make love to Jamie.

  He set his glass down and took off his sport coat. One by one he undid the buttons on his shirt. He watched her eyes. Just one flinch would give him the incentive he needed to stop.

  She didn’t move.

  Her eyes didn’t falter as he tugged the shirt from his waistband, shrugged it off his shoulders, and tossed it on a nearby chair. He started to unbutton his trousers but stopped. “Are you going to watch?” he asked, his voice husky.

  That daredevil twinkle in her eyes was all the answer he needed, but she didn’t let it go at that.

  “Are you shy?” she asked.

  “No, but you do have me at a disadvantage.”

  Jamie reached behind her and snuffed one of the candles. “How’s that?”

  Her movement caused the remaining two candles to flicker, playing a shadow dance on the white walls and over the powerful muscles on Quint’s bared upper body. His chest covered with a mat of curling hair, glowed golden in the pale light. The stark hunger in his cobalt blue eyes had nothing to do with food.

  Jamie’s bravado diminished when Quint dropped his pants. Had she actually expected him to back down? The light was not so dim that she couldn’t make out every detail of his lithe body right down to the form-hugging briefs he
wore—so tight fitting they clearly showed the bulge of his desire. When he hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of his briefs, she made a small squeak.

  It was small but he heard it.

  He hesitated, looking down to her. “You want me to stop?” His throaty voice was amazingly controlled, and sincere.

  Jamie shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “don’t stop.” Her bravery went only so far. She breathed deeply of the musky candle scent and closed her eyes, hoping the light was muted enough so he wouldn’t notice. Seconds later she heard him step into the tub and felt the water rise over her shoulders when he eased himself into it.

  “You can open your eyes now,” he said.

  Her eyes flew open when she heard the amusement in his voice. “I was just trying to spare you embarrassment,” she said.

  The lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Gee, thanks. There are some things a man can’t hide. Well, actually there is a place I could hide it but… Turn around and let me wash your back before I talk myself into a corner.”

  Laughing, Jamie tossed him a soapy sponge and swiveled to expose her back to him. “Do all men revert to eighth grade mentality when they get…aroused?”

  “Honey, I’m way beyond aroused. And talking about it only makes it…harder.”

  He slid the sponge over her shoulders and down her back beneath the water. She arched her spine, laid her head back, and moaned. Quint dropped the sponge and drew her back against his chest. His hands moved around her body to cup her breasts. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her back.

  Her breath came in short gasps as he caressed her, stroked her.

  “Quint?” she whispered. “I—”

  He nibbled on her ear lobe while his hands continued to explore her curves beneath the water. “What is it you want, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.”

  She turned enough to look at him. “I want you inside me, Quint. Make love to me.”

  Quint made an audible sound that was almost like pain. He pulled her onto his lap, hugged her close and buried his face in her hair. “God, Jamie, I want you so much, need you…” His voice choked.