“You were my best friend, Wyatt. I’d trust you with my life, and with hers.”
Barb laid her hand on her husband’s arm. “Let Shelby stay here. It’s the Christian thing to do.”
Wyatt pressed his lips into a thin line, and then nodded.
Relief unlocked Patrick’s tense muscles. He gave Shelby a gentle nudge, and she reluctantly stepped into the house. Patrick followed her. After scanning the road behind them, he closed the door and faced Wyatt.
His friend was watching his wife hustle Shelby into the kitchen with the promise of a strong cup of coffee. He met Patrick’s gaze. “Is this related to the murders? Have you called the cops?”
“The police checked out Shelby’s place but didn’t find anything. I can’t say I have much faith in Bradford Reed’s force.”
“No, the old guy is working harder at hanging on until he can collect a full pension than he is at solving local crimes.”
“Whoever did this is smart enough to cover their tracks.”
Barb walked back into the room and propped her hands on her hips. “You’re not leaving us out of this discussion. Y’all get your buns into this kitchen so we can hear what’s going on. This is no time to be leaving the womenfolk in the dark.”
Patrick and Wyatt exchanged amused looks. Wyatt motioned Patrick toward the door to the other room. “Better do as she says or she’ll take her granny’s cast iron skillet to the side of your head.”
Barb rolled her eyes and returned to the other room.
Settling around the oval, red Formica table in the kitchen, Patrick waited until Barb had finished serving coffee and taken a seat. In the bright, cheery setting, he was glad to see the fearful, haunted look retreating from Shelby’s eyes.
“What kind of threats have you been getting?” Wyatt asked.
“A note on her car to keep her mouth shut. A cottonmouth snake in the return book bin at the library.”
“Wait a minute.” Barb held up a hand. “The kids and I were there that day. I thought the police said it was just a prank.”
Shaking his head, Patrick said, “Too coincidental. It happened the day after the first note. Someone wanted Shelby to know they could make good on their threat.”
Shelby took a sip of her coffee and set the blue earthenware mug onto the matching saucer. “After that, there was a note in lipstick on the mirror at the library. Then tonight.” She shivered, and Patrick longed to take her in his arms.
“Someone broke into her house.”
Throwing out one hand for emphasis, Shelby said, “I walked from my chair to the kitchen and took a pan of brownies out of the oven. By the time I walked back into my living room he had written ‘Time to die, Shelzie’ in my Bible.”
Barb pressed a hand to her lips. “You poor child.”
Shelby swept her hair back from her face. “I still don’t know how the phone could be dead one minute and then working when the police came without any sign of tampering to the lines.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Barb said. “My son once put a toy flag in the phone jack in our spare bedroom. Our phone was out of service for two days before a repairman found it.”
“What night do you think he’s talking about?” Wyatt stared into his cup.
Patrick reached over to take Shelby’s hand. “This all started when I came back to town. I think this is about the night Coral said I assaulted her.”
“What could Shelby know about that night?” Wyatt still didn’t look up. There was an odd tone in his voice that made Patrick study him closely.
“I overheard Coral tell someone she intended to sleep with Patrick.”
Wyatt’s gaze shot up. “Who?”
“I didn’t see who it was.” Shelby’s voice revealed how tired she was, how much her fright had taken out of her.
Wyatt relaxed a fraction and Patrick’s curiosity rose.
“Maybe we’re wrong about this,” Shelby continued. “Maybe it has to do with the night Earl was killed or the night Leah disappeared. I don’t know. My brain is fried from trying to make sense of it.”
Barb rose to her feet. “The cure for fried brain is a good night’s sleep. Shelby, you can have one of the beds in the spare room. Mr. Rivers, I’m afraid it’s a lumpy couch for you.”
Shelby looked at Patrick. He winked at her. “Try and get some rest. Wyatt and I’ll keep watch. If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Barb will let you put her skillet under your pillow.”
He was rewarded with a small but genuine smile that lifted his heart.
As she followed Barb out of the room, Patrick’s hands clenched into fists.
Wyatt rose and took his coffee mug to the sink. “What’s the plan?”
“For tonight, keep a sharp eye out for anything suspicious.”
“And after tonight?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You like her a lot, don’t you?”
Patrick rolled his mug between his palms. “Yeah. She’s one special lady.”
“I never figured you’d fall for a quiet one.”
“Me, neither. I used to go for the flashy ones, not the brainy ones.”
“Like Coral?”
Patrick hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into the past, but he wanted Wyatt to understand. To forgive him.
“About that, Wyatt. I honestly didn’t know you were in love with her. I never would have taken her home if I had.”
“Yeah, right.” Bitterness colored his words. “Everything was going your way. A scholarship, captain of a championship team, pro scouts looking at you, girls falling all over you. Why did you have to have her, too?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
“My wife is a good Christian woman and she likes Shelby. That’s the reason I’m letting you stay.”
Wyatt jerked his head toward the door. “There’s a shed out back. You can put your bike in there.”
Someone was pointing down at her. Jeering at her. The floor was cold beneath her back. Her stomach hurt. She was going to be sick.
A man leaned toward her, his face swimming in and out of focus. It was Dylan. “Leah’s watchdog is down for the count at last.”
Shelby jolted awake, gasping for air. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Was someone there?
She peered into the gloom, trying to get her bearings, not daring to move.
Moonlight streamed though an unfamiliar window. A tall chest of drawers stood nearby. An oval mirror on the wall reflected the moonbeams across the bare wooden walls. This wasn’t her room.
Little by little, the events of the past evening came back. She was at Wyatt’s cabin. Patrick had brought her here to keep her safe.
Her nightmare faded as it always did. The recurring dream hadn’t bothered her in months, but this time was different. This time the man’s face belonged to Dylan Renault.
Slipping out of bed, she crossed to the door and eased it open.
“Shelby, is that you?”
His voice, so welcome and familiar, allowed her to draw a full breath brimming with relief. “Yes.”
Patrick sat up on the sofa beneath a wide window. “What’s the matter?”
“Bad dream.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Want to talk about it?”
Crossing the room, she settled in a chair beside the sofa. “No. It’s gone now. Where’s Wyatt?”
“Keeping watch on the front porch.” Patrick raised his wrist and tipped his watch face toward the window. “I’ll go relieve him in a few minutes.”
“I feel terrible about this.” She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“About what?”
“Keeping you up. Making Wyatt surrender his home. Everything.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“I know.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded tiny and forlorn. Why did it feel as if she were to blame? She settled her chin on her knees.
Patrick patted the cushion beside h
im. “Come here.”
She hesitated a fraction of a second, then bolted to his side. Wrapping his arms around her, he settled his chin on the top of her head as she burrowed against his shoulder. The steady beat of his heart beneath her ear brought her a deep feeling of security and a new ache deep in her chest.
He’s only holding me because I’m frightened. He’d do the same for anyone. Even if I wish the reason was different, that he was holding me because he cares for me, I can’t read more into this. He’s being a friend.
It might be sensible advice, but it didn’t help. She’d fallen for Patrick in a big way. Even the knowledge that heartbreak loomed on her horizon couldn’t change the way she felt. He would be leaving soon and she would be staying.
What if he asks me to go to California?
How could she even think of leaving? Leah was still missing, Clint and Sarah needed her, Wendy and Jocelyn had already lost one dear friend—if she left they’d be losing another. No, her life was tied to Loomis by bonds too strong to be easily broken. She would stay, and she would miss him for the rest of her life, but at least she would have this time in his arms to remember.
He rubbed her shoulder. “Repeat after me. None of this is Shelby’s fault.”
“I should be braver.”
“You want to be a woman who totes a gun and can shoot a cigarette out of a guy’s mouth at twenty paces?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, I should be one of those women. Tough like Wendy.”
“I kinda like your soft side.”
She tilted her head to peer up at him. “You do?”
“You have no idea,” he said softly.
The rapid thudding of her heart had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the feel of his arms around her. The air suddenly shimmered with tension.
Slowly, he drew away. Leaning back, he blew out a deep breath. “You make it hard to keep my mind on business.”
“I do?” She sat up, missing the warmth of his arms with an intensity that frightened her.
“I never thought I’d say this, but L.A. is going to seem tame after Loomis.”
“Do you have to go back?” The foolish question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She couldn’t read his expression in the darkness. More than anything, she wanted to see his reaction.
“Everything I’ve worked so hard for is there.” His voice held a wistful quality she didn’t understand, but his words were answer enough.
Folding her arms tightly across her chest, she tried for a bright tone. “Of course you have to go back. Your life is there just like my life is here. We might have come from the same place, but we live in two separate worlds.”
“I’ve been asking myself why God brought me back here. I sure never intended to see Loomis again.”
“So, why did you come back?” It was easier to ask about his past than to think about a future without him.
“My stepfather left a rather odd will. If I came back to Loomis and personally went through the house, through all his things, I could sell the place and keep the money. If I didn’t come, I got nothing.”
“He must have wanted you to come back. Maybe he wanted you to have your mother’s books.”
“Then why not send them to me?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Because then you wouldn’t have had to face up to your past.”
“Maybe.”
Pulling her hand away, she asked, “What about your real father. Who was he?”
“I don’t know much about him except that he was a fisherman. My mother told me he drowned when his boat sank in a storm. They’d only been married a few weeks.”
“How terrible.”
“She married Ben about six months later. Of course she was already pregnant with me. He never let me forget that I wasn’t his son. But I wanted to be.”
The longing in those words told her exactly how hard it had been for him growing up.
“I wanted him to be proud of me and come to my ball-games. I wanted him to tell his buddies what a great kid he had. But he never did.”
“It was his loss. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
Patrick pushed himself to his feet. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The terror of her nightmare had faded, although the need to bury her face in her pillow and weep away her sorrow had replaced it.
Patrick said, “I should go relieve Wyatt.”
“Thanks for sitting with me,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat.
“You should get some more sleep. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry, Shelby. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
It was too late, she thought as she watched him walk out into the night. He had already broken her heart.
SIXTEEN
Bright and early the next morning, Shelby sat on Wyatt’s sofa and used her cell phone to call Wendy. It took fifteen minutes to fill her cousin in on the details.
“I’m fine, Wendy, but I’m not coming in to work for a few days.”
“Where are you? I’m bringing you my .357.”
“I don’t need it. I have Patrick and Wyatt Tibbs to protect me. I’m safe here.”
“All right. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ve got it covered.”
“I knew you would.”
After the call to her cousin, Shelby phoned the police station and spoke to the officer in charge of her investigation. She wasn’t surprised to find there was nothing new in the case. At least, nothing they were willing to share with her.
When she closed her cell phone, she looked up to see Patrick smiling at her from the doorway of the kitchen. He held out a mug. “I made coffee. Want some?”
“Always.” She tucked her feet beneath her as she curled up on the end of the sofa.
“Any news?”
“I don’t know why I thought they would have something yet. It’s going to take a while to process any prints they lifted. I’ve learned that much about police procedure from Jocelyn in the past few months. I’m not sure how hard they’ll look for my missing Bible when they have a string of homicides still unsolved.”
He strolled over and handed her the coffee.
“Where is everyone?”
“The kids are fishing with Wyatt, and Barb is photographing birds.”
“I’m not going in to work today, but I can’t hide out here forever, Patrick. What am I going to do?”
He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Give the police a little more time to find out who’s behind it.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t have the answers, Shelby. I wish I did.”
Turning away from his touch, she said, “I’m giving this over to God. He is my rock and my salvation. I’ll put my trust in Him.”
“Amen,” Barb said, coming through the door. “My, that coffee smells good. Are my men back?”
“Not yet.” Patrick stepped away from Shelby.
She took a quick sip of her coffee to hide the blush she knew was staining her cheeks.
A few seconds later, the laughter of the boys and the thud of their small feet on the porch announced their arrival.
“Mom! Mom! You gotta see this. There’s the coolest motorcycle in the whole world in our shed. Is that guy here?”
The boys practically fell over themselves getting into the room, but they stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Shelby and Patrick.
Catching Patrick’s eye, Shelby wrinkled her nose at him. “You’ve got another fan, Mr. Award Winner.”
Patrick set his cup down and planted his hands on his hips. “So you like my bike, do you?”
Both of them nodded.
“Come on, I’ll give you a close-up look.”
“Cool. Can we take her for a spin?” Mark’s eyes brightened.
Patrick shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m having some engine trouble, but you can sit on it.”
“Awesome.” They both turned and hurried out the do
or.
Barb picked up the camera she’d been using. “I have to get a picture of this. It is safe for them to be on it, isn’t it? I mean—they can’t start it or anything.”
“I’ve got the key.”
“Oh, good. Well, don’t just stand around in here. It’s a beautiful day. Come outside and let me get a picture of the two of you together. Come on, come on.” She flapped her hand at them.
Chuckling, Shelby allowed Patrick to pull her to her feet and they followed Barb outside.
At the shed, Barb paused to study her shot, turning her head first one way, then the other. “The morning light coming in, contrasting with the sharp shadows, makes a good composition.” She dropped to one knee. “Okay, Wyatt Jr., hop on.”
Patrick grabbed the boy before he could scramble aboard. “Careful, there’s a puddle of oil under it. I don’t want you getting any on your shoes or your mom will skin me alive.”
“I would, too.” Barb grinned as she began snapping pictures with her digital camera.
“Is it broke?” Mark, squatting down beside Patrick’s boots, put a finger in the oily dirt. He wrinkled his nose and his mother snapped another picture.
“No,” Patrick said, “I just have to keep putting oil in it until I get a new gasket. The one I ordered should be at my house by now.”
“What will you do then?”
Patrick’s eyes met Shelby’s. “Then I have to get back to L.A.”
After Patrick lifted the boys off, Barb said, “Now you and Shelby get on. I want a few shots of y’all.”
Holding up one hand, Shelby shook her head. “No. I look terrible. I slept in these clothes.”
“Honey, you look fine.”
Patrick leaned close to Shelby. His warm breath tickled her ear. “She’s right, you look beautiful. Except you have a stray hair here.” He brushed a hand over her head.
“And here.” He tucked a strand behind her ear, letting his fingers linger there and sending shivers down her spine.
Batting his hand away, she muttered, “I’m good.”
“Good enough.”
Grasping the handlebars he swung his leg over the bike, then offered her a hand. She climbed on behind him and tried to smile at Barb.
A Cloud of Suspicion Page 14