These pictures might be all she had to remember him by.
“Put your arms around him, Shelby,” Barb called out as she focused through her lens.
Shelby did, holding tight and wishing she could ride away with him.
Why not? What was stopping her?
Everything.
Shelby couldn’t leave. Would Patrick even consider staying?
She glanced over to where Wyatt, quiet and withdrawn, watched them from the shadows at the side of the house.
Asking Patrick to subject himself to a life of constant mistrust was something she couldn’t bring herself to do.
She would have to let him go and pray he found happiness elsewhere.
The rest of the day Patrick couldn’t help noticing as Shelby became more and more distant. His teasing couldn’t bring a smile to her face. After lunch, she spent a long time shut in her room.
He wasn’t sure what was going on in her head. Was it worry over her stalker or something else?
After supper, he was finally able to catch up with her as she was sitting alone on the dock staring out into the bayou. She was throwing sticks into the water and watching the ripples spreading out.
Patrick walked up to stand behind her. “You need to be careful of gators out here all by yourself.”
“Do they write death threats in Bibles and wear apricot glaze lipstick?” She threw another stick in with a vengeance.
“I’ve never seen one wearing anything but chartreuse.” He folded his long legs pretzel style to sit beside her.
Breaking a twig in half, she tossed another small piece off the end of the dock. “Leah is out there somewhere.”
“Shelby, you don’t know that.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but nothing else could keep her away from Sarah for so long. Why is God letting this happen?”
“Good question.”
“One with no answers. How soon will you be leaving Loomis?”
“Is that what this is about?”
Will she miss me? Do I dare hope she feels the same way I do? She hung her head, and he couldn’t see her face for the curtain of long red hair hiding it. Reaching out, he drew her tresses aside. “Come with me.” He waited without breathing, praying she would say yes.
She didn’t even look at him. “I can’t.” He couldn’t believe how much her words hurt.
She scooted around to face him. “You could start your own motorcycle place. Not in Loomis, it’s too small, but New Orleans is less than an hour away. There are lots of bike riders in the Big Easy.”
“I have people depending on me in California. My boss had a bad wreck. The guys in the shop are holding it together, but they need someone in charge until Carl gets back on his feet.”
A low rumble of thunder announced the approach of a storm over the bayou. The wind kicked up stirring the water and tugging at her hair.
She dropped her gaze and started breaking her last stick into tiny pieces. “I’m sorry. Of course you can’t leave your friends in a lurch.”
“My dream for the past nine years has been to become part owner of Wolfwind Cycles. This is my chance to prove to Carl that I’ll make a good partner.”
She nodded. “You have to follow your dream. I understand that.”
His dreams had changed since meeting her again, but what good would it do to pine for something he couldn’t have?
She sighed. “I’ll miss you. You’ve been a good friend. Who’s going to save me next time someone breaks into my place?”
“Where’s your faith? Where is the woman who was turning her life over to God?”
She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “A gator got her.”
Patrick couldn’t stop himself. He drew her closer. “I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re safe.”
It was a promise he intended to keep.
The storm rolled in a little after dark, trapping everyone inside the cabin.
Shelby sat near the window and watched with unease. She hated storms.
Lightning flashed as the wind lashed the trees and made the small cabin creak. The rain fell in sheets when it came, flooding the ruts of the road leading away from the property.
Barb sent the boys to bed early and came to sit beside Shelby. Patrick and Wyatt had taken up positions on the front porch.
Patting Shelby’s arm, Barb said, “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t be trapped here. If the four-wheel drive on the truck can’t get us out, we have a boat.”
“It would be a bad night to be out on the water.” Shelby winced as another bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a crack of thunder.
“It would be a bad night to be out anywhere. Which is a good thing for you. No one’s going to find you in this storm.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
“I’m going to bed, dear. I suggest y’all do the same. The men are taking turns keeping watch, just like last night. You’ll be safe.”
Safe from her stalker but not from a broken heart.
Shelby retired to her room, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She lay in bed listening to the sound of the rain on the roof. Gradually, the thunder grew fainter as the storm moved away.
She must have fallen asleep, because she woke with a start a few hours later. She sat up listening for what had disturbed her. Then she heard it. The sound of an engine coming closer. It didn’t sound like a car.
Abruptly, the engine cut off.
She waited, but it never started again. Had it been a boat? Had her stalker found her hiding place?
Throwing back the cotton coverlet, she climbed out of bed and walked into the living room. “Patrick?”
There was no answer.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she moved to stare out the window. A bright three-quarter moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows among the trees outside. Overhead, a few lingering clouds drifted. A smattering of raindrops fell again. The breeze picked up, making the shadows move.
Was that a man in the trees?
She strained her eyes to see better. Was someone watching the cabin?
She took a quick step back from the window and pressed a hand to her mouth.
The dark shape she watched took one more step into the clearing just as the moon came out from beneath the clouds. A marsh deer raised its head to sniff the night air, and Shelby nearly collapsed with relief.
A nervous giggle escaped her lips.
She was expecting the boogeyman and got Bambi instead.
Thank goodness she hadn’t roused the house.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, Shelby admired the sleek form of the animal outside. Suddenly, the deer leaped away, its white tail raised in alarm a second before it disappeared from sight.
The shadow of a man crossed in front of the window and the door opened. Shelby froze.
He must have heard her quick, indrawn breath because he looked toward her. “Shelby?”
“Patrick. Oh, thank goodness.” She raced to him, but he held her off.
“I’ll get you wet.”
She stepped back. “What were you doing out in the rain?”
“I thought I heard something.” He shrugged out of his borrowed rain jacket.
“The engine?”
He paused in the act of hanging up his coat to stare at her. “You heard it, too?”
“Yes. Did you find out what it was?”
“No, but it could have been a boat. Gator hunters often prowl the bayou at night. Everything looks fine outside. Go back to bed.”
“All right.” She reluctantly did as he asked. In her room, she lay down, but sleep didn’t come.
Would she ever be able to close her eyes without wondering who was watching her?
Lying beneath the coverlet, she listened to the sounds of the night. About an hour later, she heard Wyatt and Patrick talking quietly in the living room. Wyatt must be taking over the watch.
How would she ever be able to thank him and Barb for their kindness?
As the nig
ht wore on, she eventually dozed, but woke again when she heard the sound of a truck approaching the cabin. It was barely light outside.
Jumping out of bed, she hurried into the living room. Wyatt was already on the porch with Patrick at his side. Shelby watched through the window as one of the sheriff department’s white SUVs pulled to a stop in front of the house.
Two men got out. Both had their hands on the butts of their guns.
The driver stepped forward and Shelby recognized Sheriff Reed.
“Patrick Rivers, step out with your hands where I can see them.”
Shelby raced to the door and yanked it open. “What’s going on?”
“Stay back, Miss Mason.” Deputy Olson moved to stand beside the sheriff.
Patrick sent Shelby a look plainly asking her to stay put. He walked down the steps toward the two men with his hands up. “What’s this about?”
Deputy Olson stepped forward and quickly twisted Patrick’s arms behind his back. “Patrick Rivers, you’re under arrest for assault and rape.”
SEVENTEEN
This can’t be happening. Not again.
Bile rose in Patrick’s throat. For a second, he thought he was going to be sick all over Deputy Olson’s khaki uniform.
With no regard for his comfort, his arms were pulled behind him. Cold steel encircled his wrists.
“You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right…”
The deputy’s voice droned on. Patrick’s eyes locked with Shelby’s. “I didn’t do it.”
She didn’t say a word. She simply stood there with a stunned expression on her face.
Barb walked out onto the porch with the boys at her side. Wyatt sent her back inside with a quick word.
Sheriff Reed bellied up to Patrick. “Y’all got away with rape once, but this time I’m locking you up for good. You shoulda stayed gone.”
Wyatt stepped forward. “When and where did this alleged rape take place?”
“Covington. Last night.”
Shelby darted down the steps to stand beside Patrick. “Then he couldn’t have done it. He was here. He has an alibi.”
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Wyatt added.
Fixing his scowl on Shelby, Reed said, “All night? You can swear that he never left? I’m asking for the whole truth, Miss Mason.”
Wringing her hands, Shelby said, “He was outside for a while, but he didn’t leave.”
“Outside for how long, miss?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ten minutes? Thirty minutes?”
She pressed her hand to her lips. Her fingers were trembling. “I don’t know, but I would have heard the truck or his bike engine if he’d gone anywhere. I barely slept last night.”
Patrick stayed silent. He knew how useless it was to argue with the law.
Olson shoved Patrick toward the vehicle. “He could have pushed the bike and started it away from the house where you wouldn’t hear it.”
Shelby raked a hand through her tangled hair. “Then there would be tracks in the mud.”
She ran to the road, searching the ground, then spun around and held out her hands. “There aren’t any tire marks except yours.”
Reed motioned to his deputy, who opened the door to the back seat. “The rain coulda washed them away. The woman identified him by name and even gave us a description of his bike. Said he took her for a spin on it first. It’s a one-of-a-kind, ain’t it, Rivers?”
The story was absurd. Patrick stared at the sheriff in disbelief. “Why would I be stupid enough to give this woman my real name and a ride on my bike?”
“’Cause you didn’t think she’d talk. Guess the money you gave her to keep quiet wasn’t enough.” Olson put his hand on Patrick’s head to guide him in.
Patrick shook him off and looked at Wyatt. “Take care of Shelby. Get her out of town.”
Wyatt nodded but didn’t speak.
Did his friend think he was guilty this time, too?
Olson forced Patrick’s head down, and he entered the police car without further protest. As the door slammed shut, he focused his gaze on Shelby.
She looked so frantic. He wanted to tell her it was okay, but he knew it wouldn’t be. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get him out of the way.
As the sheriff’s vehicle pulled away, Shelby rounded on Wyatt. “Don’t even think about it. I am not leaving town while Patrick sits in jail for something he didn’t do. We have to help him.”
“I can’t help him. Not this time.” His voice held such an odd quality.
Shelby looked at him closely. “What do you mean, this time?”
“Ten years ago, I was there. I followed Coral and Patrick. I saw them together. It wasn’t rape.”
Shelby couldn’t begin to sort out the jumbled emotions and thoughts running through her mind. “Then why didn’t you say something when he was arrested?”
He glanced at the door of the cabin. “I wanted him to suffer for having the woman I loved—or thought I loved. I didn’t know what real love was until I met Barb. By then it was too late.”
“Oh, Wyatt.”
Laying a hand on his shoulder, Shelby offered him what comfort she could. “Maybe you didn’t come forward ten years ago, but we can’t change that. We have to prove Patrick is innocent now.”
“How?”
“We’ll think of something. Why didn’t we hear the bike being ridden away?”
“I did hear an engine last night.”
Shelby bit her lip. She had, too. She’d seen Patrick come in soaking wet when it was only sprinkling at the time.
Had he been soaked from riding through the rain on his way back from Covington?
No. He wasn’t guilty.
She loved him, and she was going to prove he was innocent.
The sound of another vehicle making its way down the road drew their attention. A gray van pulled to a stop in the yard. It had FBI Crime Scene written in bold letters along the side.
Wyatt let out a low whistle. “Reed has called in some help. He must really want to make sure these charges stick.”
A woman stepped out of the driver’s side, and Shelby recognized FBI agent Jodie Gilmore.
Shelby’s spirits lifted. “That’s the best thing he could have possibly done for Patrick.”
She hurried toward Jodie. “He didn’t do it.”
Jodie’s smile was guarded and tinged with sympathy. “I know he’s a friend of yours.”
Wyatt came up to stand beside Shelby. “What’s the FBI doing investigating a local rape case?”
“A report has come to light that leads us to believe this case may be connected to the murders.”
Shelby frowned. “What kind of report?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
Thinking back, Shelby saw the faces of the deputies when she told them about the short red hairs in her missing Bible and their accusations that Patrick was always on hand when she had been threatened.
Shaking her head, she said, “Sheriff Reed can’t possibly think Patrick had anything to do with the murders. He wasn’t even here then.”
“Agent Pierce did a little checking. Mr. Rivers wasn’t in L.A. at the time of either murder. In fact, his whereabouts during the end of December and all of January are unknown.”
Shelby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What motive would Patrick have for killing Dylan or Earl?”
“Dylan’s sister, Ava, was the one who reported him for rape. Maybe killing Dylan was his way of getting revenge. We haven’t uncovered a connection to Earl Farley, but we’re still looking.”
Shelby ran a hand through her hair. “Patrick wasn’t in L.A. because he was traveling through Mexico on vacation. Ask his boss.”
“We’re checking into that.”
“Patrick doesn’t have red hair! There were red hairs found at the scene of both Earl and Dylan’s murders.”
“How did you know that?” Jodie demanded.
“Wen
dy’s brother-in-law works for the police department. Jocelyn has breakfast with me once a week. The murders are practically all this town talks about. Patrick doesn’t have red hair, and little Sarah isn’t afraid of him. He didn’t rape or murder anyone.”
“The hairs were from a human-hair wig, which he could easily have purchased.”
“I don’t care if you show me a sales receipt for a dozen wigs with his name on them. I know he didn’t do it.”
“Shelby, I’m going to ask you and the Tibbs family to stay inside while our crime scene techs do their work.”
“They need to check the bike for fingerprints,” Shelby declared, starting for the building at the side of the house. A man in a gray jumpsuit carrying a large black case was already headed in that direction.
Jodie grabbed Shelby by the arm and pulled her to a stop. “Let us do our job.”
“If someone pushed the cycle away from the shed and rode it into Covington, there should be fingerprints or DNA or something on the bike that doesn’t belong to Patrick.”
Please, Lord, let them prove he didn’t do this.
The crime scene tech was already stretching yellow crime scene tape across the front of the shed.
Wyatt shoved his hands in his pockets. A deep scowl creased his forehead. “That road gets as slimy as a gator’s belly when it rains. A man would have a hard time pushing Patrick’s big cycle far enough away for us not to hear it start. And then push it back in here? He’d be one strong dude. The bike should be covered in mud if it was moved.”
Jodie steered Shelby back toward the cabin. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but let’s go inside.”
Shelby nodded and started to turn away when she saw the man in the shed kneel beside the bike to examine the ground. He withdrew a swab from his kit.
“That’s it.” Shelby looked at Wyatt. “Tell Barb to bring her camera out here right now. We may have proof the bike hasn’t been moved since yesterday morning.”
“You’re right.” He took off at a run.
Turning to the crime scene technician, Shelby took a step toward him and called out, “Sir, don’t touch that oil spill.”
He paused with his swab a few inches from it. He glanced at Jodie. Shelby saw them exchange looks.
She quickly explained. “You don’t understand. Patrick parked his motorcycle in there the night we arrived. Monday night.”
A Cloud of Suspicion Page 15