“No one is pointing and yelling ‘rapist’ at the top of their lungs. But I can see I’ll never be truly accepted in Loomis. Max thinks he can get to the bottom of the missing deed this week.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Does that mean you’ll be leaving soon?”
He should, but he didn’t want to leave. Not yet. The pull of Shelby’s clear gaze was keeping him here—for now. Soon he’d have to leave, but today was a day for the two of them.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Of course not.”
Sarah ran over to tug on Shelby’s hand. “Come play with me.”
Sarah pointed to the playground equipment at the day care center, her almond-shaped bright green eyes alight with eagerness. “Swing me.”
Shelby looked at Clint and he nodded. She beamed at the child. “Let’s go.”
Patrick walked beside them as they crossed to the playground. At the church steps, he saw Wyatt and his wife standing with his sons. Barb, camera in hand, was trying to get the boys to stand still for a picture in their Easter suits in front of the church doors.
Patrick was surprised when Wyatt nodded in his direction. Smiling, he nodded in return and took hold of Shelby’s hand. It was turning out to be a pretty good day.
Sarah ran to one of the swings and climbed aboard. “Push me, Shelby.”
“All right. Hold on tight. Wait a minute.” Shelby slipped the elastic band from beneath the little girl’s chin and removed her hat, Looking around, Shelby’s eyes settled on Patrick. Holding out the straw bonnet, she said, “Here. Make yourself useful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took the hat and settled himself on a nearby bench.
Grasping the chains, Shelby took a few steps back and let go. Sarah giggled as she swung forward.
“Higher!”
“Okay.” Shelby gave a hearty shove and Sarah sailed up into the air with a squeal, kicking her legs in delight.
Shelby was so good with the child. Patrick couldn’t get over how natural she looked swinging her friend’s daughter. She should have kids of her own.
What was the matter with the men in Loomis that they ignored a jewel like Shelby in their midst?
Wyatt’s young son came running up to take the swing next to Sarah. He only had time to lie across the seat and push himself back and forth twice before his mother called out, “Mark Gerard, don’t you dare get your suit dirty. Hurry up and c’mon, or we’re leaving without you.”
The empty threat made the boy smile, but he left the swing. Hurrying back the way he’d come, he plowed to a stop beside Patrick. “We’re going to the cabin for a whole week and I’m gonna catch me a fish twice as big as the last one.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Mark, am I gonna have to send your daddy to get you?” Barb was already at the car.
“No, ma’am,” the boy yelled, and took off.
As Mark left, Clint came to join Patrick, followed by Ava and Max.
“Higher, Shelby!” Sarah yelled again.
Shelby laughed and shook her hands. “My arms are falling off.”
“It’s time to go, Sarah.” Clint was obviously loath to end her fun. Shelby slowed the swing to a stop.
“Don’t want to,” Sarah pouted.
“It’s time to eat,” Clint stated firmly.
Ava stepped toward the girl and bent to her level. “Max and I are coming to your house. Just the two of us.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Max. He nodded as some message passed between them. So he’d declined his mother’s invitation to dinner. Patrick couldn’t blame him.
Ava turned back to Sarah. “We made a huge picnic basket with all kinds of goodies for our lunch, and I think we’re going to help you hunt for Easter eggs in your backyard.”
“Yea!” Sarah jumped out of the swing and dashed to Ava. Looking at Patrick, Sarah held up her hand. “Hat, please.”
He handed the straw bonnet to Ava and she adjusted it on Sarah’s blond curls. With their faces so close together, Patrick couldn’t help but notice how much the two of them looked alike.
As they all left, Shelby came and stood by his side. She said, “It’s really nice of Max and Ava to include Clint and Sarah in their plans today.”
“Did you ever notice how much they look alike?”
“Sarah and Clint?”
“No. Sarah and Ava. They both have the same eyes.”
“I guess I never noticed.” Shelby turned to him. “Are you up for an Easter egg hunt?”
“Me?”
She nodded. “Ava and Clint invited us to join them. I didn’t want to answer for you.”
He nodded. “I’d like that.”
What he really liked was the way her face brightened into a wide beaming smile.
Soak it in, because you won’t be seeing it for long.
Suddenly California had never seemed so far away or less inviting.
TWELVE
Driving back to his house that evening, Patrick was distracted from thoughts of Shelby by the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he pulled it out.
Flipping it open, he was surprised to hear Ray Bailey, a coworker from California saying, “Hey dude, how’s it going?”
“Not bad, Ray.”
“Glad to hear it. Are you, like, winding things up and heading back to L.A. soon?”
Although the head mechanic at Wolfwind Cycles was trying to sound nonchalant, Patrick wasn’t fooled. Ray never engaged in chitchat.
“What’s wrong?”
After blowing out a long breath, Ray said, “We need you back as soon as you can get here.”
“What do you need me for that Carl can’t handle with both hands tied behind his back?”
“Everything,” Ray shot back. “Carl’s in the hospital.”
Patrick’s brows snapped into a scowl. “What happened?”
“He cracked up his bike on the freeway. Some airhead with a cell phone pressed to her ear cut him off and sent him skidding off the road.”
Carl Wolf was Patrick’s mentor and his friend, a man who believed in Patrick’s talent when no one else did. “He’s going to be okay? Right?”
“He’s got a busted leg and a busted arm, plus he took a hard knock to the head, but Carl is a tough nut. Dude, this ain’t his first wreck.”
“What are the doctors telling you?”
“They say he’s going to be okay, but for now they’re keeping him on some pretty heavy pain meds. He sure won’t be able to work for a few weeks. Pat, we need you here. You know more about running the business than all the rest of us combined.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Patrick took a second to compose his thoughts and lay out a plan. “All right, here’s what you do. Debby in the front office knows how to do the payroll, and she can take over the accounting. Make sure everyone gets paid. How many new bikes are on order?”
“I’m not sure. Just a second.” Muted background voices told Patrick that Ray was conferring with others. A minute later Ray came back on the line. “We’ve got six in production and five new orders. Carl’s waiting for you to get back and start the designs on those and review them with the customers.”
“Call Frank Parks over at Sunset Cycles. He does good freelance work. See if he can take on some of the projects so we can get them in the pipeline.”
He pictured Shelby standing across the church lawn and smiling at him earlier. He could leave without selling the house, and he wouldn’t be any worse off than before he’d come.
Except for one thing. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
“Ray, I’m not going to be able to get back for a few days. The wildcat has a leaking gasket.”
“Bummer! Are you, like, totally stranded in the swamp?”
Patrick chuckled. “No, I can ride her as long as I keep adding oil, but I don’t want to take her cross-country this way. I’ve got a new gasket ordered, but it’s going to take a couple of days to get here. You’re going to ha
ve to handle the shop until I get back.”
“Dude, I don’t know about that. Carl will have my head if I mess up.”
His reluctance made Patrick grin as he stepped out of his rental car. “Then don’t mess up.”
“Okay, but get back here as soon as you can, Pat. We need you.”
Snapping the phone shut, Patrick continued to stare at it. He should get back. He could catch a flight out of New Orleans and have the bike shipped. It would be the fastest way to get to L.A. and handle things. He was needed there, but he wanted so much to stay here with Shelby.
He stuffed the phone in his pocket. A couple of days wouldn’t make a major difference to the business. He’d wait for the new gasket and ride back. He’d wait and spend a couple more days in Loomis. A couple more days with Shelby.
By Monday evening, Shelby was still walking on air. Easter Sunday spent with Patrick would go down as one of the best days of her life.
It was all she had talked about at the Café Au Lait that morning. She’d tolerated the teasing of Wendy and Jocelyn about falling for Patrick, but in truth, she had fallen for him. Hard.
To see him in church listening, really listening, to the sermon Reverend Harmon had preached. To see him helping Sarah find eggs and laughing at her antics later in the afternoon. It made Shelby smile just to think about it.
A sense of hope for his well-being spread through her, warming her like the flames of a fire.
Perhaps he could start to see the good in his life and not just the bitterness he’d lived with for so long. She tucked that hope deep inside her heart for safekeeping.
In the cheerful yellow kitchen of her own home, Shelby set the oven to preheat and then cracked two eggs into a large glass mixing bowl.
If only she could crack Charla Renault’s defenses as easily. Her second attempt to gain an audience with the woman that afternoon had been as fruitless as the first one. Shelby could still hear Bosworth’s stoical tone. “Mrs. Renault is unavailable.”
Unavailable. Like the money to start Shelby’s new project.
As she mixed the batter for the brownie treats she would serve tomorrow after Story Hour, Shelby considered how she could get her idea off the ground without the Renault money.
The board might support her plan, but the funding simply wouldn’t be available without a large donation.
After spreading the batter in a glass cake pan, Shelby slipped the mix into the oven and set the timer. What she needed was a new plan, another potentially magnanimous benefactor.
Suddenly, thoughts of Leah intruded. Shelby pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.
What am I doing worrying about brownies and money for books when Leah is still missing and a murderer is still loose in our city? What’s wrong with me?
The realization that she couldn’t keep holding on to hope settled over her like a heavy blanket of depression.
Worry, prayers, sorrow, nothing made time stand still.
Children would come to Story Hour tomorrow. They would devour her treats, smiling and giggling with chocolate smeared on their faces. Leah might be dead, but life would go on.
Setting the bowl in the sink, Shelby filled it with water, then went to her living room and settled herself in the recliner.
From the small table beside her chair, she picked up the Bible that had belonged to her mother and her grandmother before her. Knowing the words would soothe her worries and her heart, she opened the book and thumbed through the pages until she came to Psalms 86. She began to read.
Bow down thine ear, O LORD, hear me: for I am poor and needy.
Preserve my soul; for I am holy: O thou my God, save thy servant that trusteth in thee.
Be merciful unto me, O Lord: for I cry unto thee daily.
Rejoice the soul of thy servant: for unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.
For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.
Give ear, O LORD, unto my prayer; and attend to the voice of my supplications.
In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee: for thou wilt answer me.
Yes, the words she knew so well drew her in and gave her the comfort she needed tonight.
Forty minutes later, the sound of the oven timer going off made her lay her Bible on the side table and head into the kitchen.
Donning an oven mitt, she pulled out the pan. The tempting smell of her rich dark chocolate treat was almost enough to make her cut herself a piece, but she resisted. These were for the kids tomorrow.
After setting the pan to cool on a wire rack, she walked back into her living room.
Her Bible lay closed on the chair seat.
Hadn’t she put it on the side table? Was she losing her mind? Shaking her head at her own absentmindedness, Shelby picked up the book and noticed a sprig of red hairs jutting from the top of the pages like a bookmark.
She would have remembered if she had closed the book on her hair and yanked out this much. She’d done it more than once at the library.
Using her thumbnail, she opened to the pages the red strands marked to see a message written in black marker.
Time to die, Shelzie.
THIRTEEN
Patrick glanced at the clock for the tenth time in the last hour. The hands were barely past nine-forty. It was Monday night and he’d gone a whole day without seeing Shelby.
He paced the confines of his house knowing he had no reason to see her except that he wanted to be near her.
And he’d be leaving soon. She should know that.
He glanced at the clock. It was too late for a casual visit. What reason could he give?
He shook his head. This is just what she needs, a second stalker.
What if something else had happened at the library today? Would she have let him know?
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he stared at it. He couldn’t call and talk to her because he didn’t know her number.
There’s always the phone book.
What were the odds an attractive single woman had a listed number?
Not good. But what would it hurt to look?
After striding into the kitchen, he pulled open a drawer and lifted out a dog-eared copy of the Loomis listings.
He could call and say what? Miss you? Wish you were here with me tonight? You brighten my life?
He might be thinking those things but he wasn’t ready to say them out loud.
This attraction he felt for Shelby had happened much too fast. He needed to slow down, take a step back. Get an idea for how she was feeling about the whole thing.
She invited you to church.
So? Shelby helped people. That’s what she did. She felt sorry for him because she hadn’t spoken up in his defense ten years ago, and she was trying to make up for it now.
He might believe that was all that was going on if he hadn’t looked into her eyes.
One thing was certain. This short time with Shelby wasn’t enough.
You know I haven’t been one for praying the last few years, Lord. You and I sort of lost each other, but I’m sorry. I’m looking for a little help now. What do You want from me? Why bring me back here?
His stepfather was gone. Patrick couldn’t repair that rift even if he wanted to. He and Wyatt were at least talking, but their old friendship would never be the same.
That left Shelby. Was she the reason he was here? Try as he might, Patrick couldn’t see how they could have any kind of relationship unless she were willing to give up her life here and travel out to L.A.
Shelby in Los Angeles. Even the idea of it made him smile.
Talk about unlikely. She loved her hometown.
He opened the phone book. It didn’t take him long to locate her name and her number.
Silly woman, she had her phone number and address listed for everyone to see.
Not silly. Naive, trusting, a perfect victim for the evil that slipped through Loomis as silent as a hungry gator slipping throug
h the murky waters of the swamps.
Okay, you’ve got her number. Just call her.
Patrick opened his cell phone and punched in her number. Raising it to his ear, he listened to a recorded message.
“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is currently out of order.”
He scowled as he listened to the message repeat itself. He snapped his phone closed as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
What was Wendy’s last name? He couldn’t remember. He settled for calling Clint Herald. His home number and the number of his construction company were easy to find.
Clint picked up on the second ring.
Feeling a bit foolish, Patrick explained why he was calling. “I’m trying to get a hold of Shelby, but her line is out of order. Do you have a cell phone number for her?”
“Of course. Let me get it.”
Patrick scribbled the number in the margin of the phone book. “Thanks, Clint.”
“No problem. Thanks for keeping an eye on Shelby. She’s very dear to me.”
Patrick swallowed hard. Clint was the kind of man Shelby needed. Someone with roots in the community she loved. She already adored Sarah. If Sarah’s mother never came home, Shelby would make the perfect substitute.
Patrick shook the thought from his mind. Shelby and Clint were close friends—that was all.
“You say her phone is out of order? That’s odd,” Clint mused. “I spoke to her about half an hour ago. I know she’s home. She called me and said she was baking brownies for the kids at the library tomorrow. She wanted to know if I could bring Sarah by.”
“I’ll try her cell phone.”
“If she doesn’t answer, can you go check on her, Patrick? Sarah is already in bed, or I’d go myself.”
“No problem. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll have her call you just to set your mind at rest.”
“Great.”
Clint hung up and Patrick dialed Shelby’s cell phone. It rang and rang then turned over to voice mail. He left a brief message.
Snapping his phone shut, he stared at it for a long minute. Spinning around, he snatched up his bike keys and headed outside.
A Cloud of Suspicion Page 12