“Let’s say the first time you received an award. Have you been in the newspaper—I mean, as in written up? And when was your first photograph published in the paper?”
She tucked herself deep in the corner of the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Clearly the woman didn’t like talking about herself.
“I won a couple of art awards while I was in high school. But seriously, Mick, don’t you think ten years is a long time to harbor a teenage grudge?”
“I’m not saying that’s the whole of it. But it could be the start.” He asked her and made note of when and what awards. Then he prompted her about the paper.
“Um, my first photo in the paper… let me think… senior year. They used some of my stuff from homecoming, after the senior float caught on fire.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“I thought everybody in Redbud Mill knew about that.”
“I wasn’t in Redbud Mill at the time.”
She waved it off. “Classic Cougar prank. They set the senior float on fire just before halftime. Three guys from Springdale were caught.”
“I want those names.”
“I don’t remember. But it’ll be easy enough to look up. Again, Mick, why ten years later?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. How about articles about you?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Nah. Nothing.” After a pause, she said, “Oh, wait. There was something in the Lexington and Bowling Green Sunday papers when my calendar came out. Not much more than blurbs, really. And it was in the Arts section—who reads that?”
Bingo. “When?”
“August last year. But it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Not to you, maybe.”
She lowered her chin, tipping her head slightly. She was lovely in the warm light of the fire. It took all of his willpower not to slide across the couch and kiss those sweetly parted lips.
She snapped her fingers. “Backing up to the award thing. I did win a state competition with that photograph of Macie and the house.”
“Now that could be significant.”
“But it was, gosh, five years ago.” Then she said, “But I guess that makes as much sense as somebody from high school.”
With a nod, he said, “Now you’re looking at things the right way.” He made a couple of additional notes. “Let’s take a few minutes and look at it from the other side. It’s personal and the calendar is just a way to get to you.”
“Oh, yes, let’s.” She visibly shivered.
He put his pencil and paper down and turned on the couch to face her. “I know this is hard.” Reaching out, he pried one of her hands from where she had it wrapped around a raised leg. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “You’re doing great. But it’s going to get worse before it gets better.” Beautiful as she was, she looked completely done in. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for a while first?”
With a lift of the chin, and the same defiant set of her jaw he remembered from the photograph in the newspaper when she’d been taken from the apartment where her mother had died, she said, “No. Let’s get this done. Then we’ll start at the beginning again, until we come up with something.”
She was an amazing woman. “Okay, then.” He moved back to his notepad. “Angry boyfriends? Rebuffed suitors?”
Her laugh had an effervescent power over his spirits. The fact that she could laugh at all as they dissected her life looking for betrayal and anger amazed him. Once her initial burst of laughter subsided, she said, “Rebuffed suitors? Did we just travel back in time?”
“You know what I meant.”
“Well, let’s see, I don’t have many gentleman callers.” She tapped her chin and gave him a coy glance. “I had a beau once, but he was the one who withdrew his suit, so I can’t imagine he’d be looking for revenge.”
He tossed his pencil onto the coffee table. “If you’re going to be a smart-ass, this is going to take a whole lot longer—”
Rolling up onto her knees, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. “Really, I haven’t dated anyone seriously for a long time… not since I got guardianship of Sam and Macie. There’s nothing to find buried in my romantic past. My last serious boyfriend is living in Lexington, is married to a former Miss Kentucky, and has two kids and a million-dollar horse farm. I’m sure he’s not crying about the one that got away.” She retreated to her corner of the couch. “Besides, he’s the beau that broke up with me.”
He tried to tamp down his frustration. He knew she was trying to relieve some of the stress, but he didn’t want to gloss over anything that could provide a lead. With a serious look, he asked, “No one asked you out and you refused?”
She looked contrite and solemn as she said, “No… well, other than Kent Davies. And I finally did go out with him. I think it’s safe to rule him out. I saw him making out with a blonde in his car yesterday.”
Mick couldn’t suppress a little bit of satisfaction that Slick McCool had moved on to blonder pastures.
He retrieved his pencil from the table. Rolling it through his fingers, he studied the movement of the flames in the hearth, searching for other possibilities.
There was something hovering just beyond his grasp, something that flashed a few seconds ago. It had to do with a look she’d given him. Her resilience. The photograph of her on the Christmas Eve her mother had died.
“How long were you in foster care?” he asked.
“Um, almost a year I think.”
“Did you live anywhere other than with the Rogerses?”
She shook her head. “I came on Christmas Eve and I never left.”
“How did you end up with the Rogerses?”
“The social services lady didn’t want to leave me in a juvenile detention facility over Christmas. The Rogerses already had one foster child. When social services called, they agreed to take me.” A slight smile curved her beautiful mouth as she gazed into the fire. “It was a Christmas miracle if there ever was one.”
Mick silently thanked God for that particular miracle. The foster system sometimes didn’t deal such fortunate hands.
He watched Caroline, who seemed lost in memories—good memories. He let her dally there for a while. She’d earned it. She had to be exhausted. Each blink became more sluggish. After a moment, she yawned.
Dropping the pad on the floor, he put out his arms and leaned back. “Come here. We need a break.”
With a grateful sigh, she crawled into his arms. Within a minute, he felt her muscles relax and her breathing deepen. He’d let her have a short nap. It was three-thirty A.M. Who knew how many hours she’d been awake?
His own eyes were grainy. He closed them—just for a minute.
As he drifted, a thought occurred to him. He jerked as he drew himself back from the edge of sleep.
Caroline roused and sucked in the drool that had pooled at the side of her mouth. “I’m awake.”
He stroked her back. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m not asl…” Her slurred words died off.
He couldn’t hold his curiosity any longer. “Psst.”
“Uh-huh.”
Whispering, as if that would wake her less, he asked, “What happened to the other foster child?”
Groggily, she lifted her head. “Who?”
“The other foster child that was at the Rogerses’ when you arrived.”
“Oh…” She rubbed her face. “I don’t really remember much. He was adopted right after I got there—maybe a couple of weeks or so.”
Dead end.
Putting his hand on the back of her head, he tucked it back against his shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
He closed his eyes. Where was the connection? There had to be one. The meager facts they’d gathered buzzed in his brain like a swarm of bees, frustrating, yet hypnotic, droning on and on, until he fell asleep.
Caroline didn’t know if i
t was the pounding on the front door or Mick’s quick movement that awakened her. It took her a few seconds to get oriented. The fire had died. It was light outside. And Mick was on his way to answer the door.
She moved to the opening between the living room and the entry hall, lingering just out of sight—until she heard Macie’s panicked voice. “Is Caroline here?”
Mick said, “Macie, are you—”
“What’s wrong?” Caroline hurried to the door, forgetting she was wearing nothing but an oversized sweatshirt until she saw the look on Macie’s face—which shifted from worried to conjecturing and back again in a flash.
“What’s wrong?” Macie echoed. “That’s what I wanted to know! I called the house and your cell phone. Why didn’t you answer? I thought something had happened to you! Mr. Bennett was taking me home to check on you when I saw the van.”
Looking beyond Macie, Caroline saw Mr. Bennett’s truck, idling exhaust pooling behind it. Frost covered everything. The cold air bit Caroline’s bare legs. She stepped a little deeper into the house, hoping he didn’t see her standing there half-naked.
She pulled Macie inside.
Mick considerately stepped away. “I’ll go put on some coffee.”
Macie crossed her arms over her chest and cast a judgmental eye as he walked away.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Caroline said, decidedly uncomfortable, but with nowhere to hide.
Macie rolled her eyes and shifted her weight.
“Mick’s a psychiatrist,” Caroline explained. “We were trying to make some sort of profile for the police. I came here right after I dropped you off and my clothes were muddy. We’ve been working all night.”
With an arched brow, Macie asked, “Where’s your cell phone? You gripe at me when I don’t keep mine with me every second.”
“I forgot it in the car—I hadn’t planned on staying.” She put a hand on Macie’s shoulder. “Listen. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
“I’m not a baby, Caroline,” she said flatly. “And I’m not stupid. Quite frankly, it’s about time you loosened up.”
Caroline opened her mouth but couldn’t find an appropriate response, so she shut it again.
Macie said, “I was just worried. You made such a big deal about this crazy dude being dangerous. You should have let me know where you were.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” At what point did I jump to this side of the fence?
Macie put her hand on the doorknob. “I’d better go. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett want to go to church.”
Stopping Macie with a hand on her arm, Caroline said, “I think we should talk before you go. I’m twenty-six and you’re seventeen—”
With a dismissive shake of her head, Macie said, “Don’t worry, you didn’t just give me the green light to sleep with Caleb. I already told you, he and I have made our decision on that—and it doesn’t have anything to do with what you do or don’t do.”
Stunned at her sister’s maturity and frankness, Caroline said, “I’m glad to know that.”
Macie gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Gotta go. Are we going home tonight?”
“I’ll let you know. We still have to talk to the police.”
“Okay.” She started out the door, then stopped. “You do know that grounding me isn’t what keeps me from sleeping with him, don’t you?”
Mimicking her sister’s words, Caroline said, “I’m not stupid.”
With a slight smile, Macie said, “Then don’t you think it’s time to unground me?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Oh, yeah. And you’d better put something on before you catch pneumonia.” She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her.
Something had just happened here, something significant. But Caroline wasn’t sure she was ready to look at her sister as an adult, an equal. That was going to take some serious adjusting.
They met Detective Odell at the Redbud Mill police station at nine o’clock Sunday morning. Apparently Chief Marker, even though skeptical, had assigned this case to an investigator. Mick said that was good news. Caroline wasn’t impressed. She still left her faith with Mick—skeptical police didn’t encourage confidence. And Detective Odell, a middle-aged officer so round Caroline wondered how he fit behind the steering wheel of his car, didn’t seem to take this whole theory any more seriously than Chief Marker had.
That was, until they handed over the brochure.
“You figure he left this in the mailbox after the incident at the reenactment?” He took the flyer with latex-gloved hands, studied it carefully, then slipped it into a plastic baggie.
Caroline cringed, thinking of all the handling that flyer had received since its arrival: it had been in a stack of mail, on her kitchen table, on the floor of the van, clutched in her sweaty hand, and held in Mick’s shower-moist hand; it had rested on Mick’s kitchen table, and then had made the trip here inside her purse. They’d be lucky if any evidence remained.
She answered, “I believe so. It was stuck in the middle of the stack of mail. And the mail doesn’t come until one.”
“Did you question the neighbors? See if anyone saw the man on your porch?”
Caroline felt suddenly remiss. “No. I was in a hurry to get Macie out of there. I didn’t think about the neighbors.”
Odell said, “No problem. That’s my job. Maybe we’ll get a description.”
Caroline started to tell him that she could give him a description, but as she tried to arrange her thoughts to do just that, she realized she didn’t have much to offer. “He’s white and taller than average.” She explained how she’d seen him at the football field.
“Um-hmmm. Well, maybe the state boys will have the answer for us after they’ve investigated the explosion and gotten lab reports back. I’ll send this brochure to the lab, too.” He stood up.
“That’s it?” Caroline asked.
Mick, who’d been sitting respectfully quiet until now, spoke up. “We have a few possibilities that might help your investigation.”
Caroline could swear Odell looked at the clock before he sat back down and said a terse, “All right.”
Mick explained how they’d come about their ideas.
Odell shifted impatiently. Caroline wanted to smack him upside the head.
When Mick was finished, Odell said, “So you think I should question the three then-juveniles who torched a float ten years ago?”
Mick ran his hands through his hair. “I know it sounds weak. We’re still looking for another connection. This would be a place to start eliminating.”
“All right, then.” Odell stood again. “Thank you for your thoughts.”
Mick said, in a tone much more diplomatic than Caroline would have used, “Do you think it might help to contact the KBI, I mean, as a coordinating source, since these things have been all over the state?”
At the mention of the Kentucky Bureau of Investigation, Odell immediately stiffened. “That’ll be up to the chief. It’s a definite possibility.”
Mick now stood, too. “Thank you for your help. And as I said, we may come up with more suggestions. We’ll let you know when we do.”
Odell nodded. “I’ll check with the state police about their investigation, since it’ll be simultaneous with ours, see if we can pull these two together. Until then, Ms. Rogers, please be alert.”
She wasn’t feeling as diplomatic as Mick. He must have read her expression, because he was quick to say, “We’ll make sure of it.” With a hand on the small of her back, he guided her out of the office. Then he stopped and asked, “You will have increased patrols around her house?”
“Consider it taken care of.”
When they got in Mick’s truck, Caroline said, “Now how’s your faith in the police figuring this out?”
He started the truck, then rested his hand on the gearshift, looking her way. “I didn’t say we’re not going to think about it anymore. But they have the tools, Caroline. They’re th
e professionals; they’re capable of doing this.”
With a little huff, she looked out her side window. “They’re already dismissing the leads you’ve given them.”
He put the truck in gear. “Probably because the leads are worthless.”
She turned a determined gaze on him. “Then we’ll keep digging.”
“Yes, we will.”
And they did. For the rest of the day he asked questions, and Caroline answered, poking around in the dusty areas of her memory. They’d moved from one room in his house to another, sitting in the kitchen, or on the couch; she’d even kept talking as they worked outside tending the cows.
Mostly they talked in circles. Caroline was unable to see what going over the same things could possibly yield. But she followed his lead, answering everything he asked.
As evening approached, they were sitting with their backs against the headboard of his bed. Mick’s pad was filled with pages and pages of what amounted to nothing.
Mick said, “Let’s go back to your mother. Is there anything about one of her boyfriends? Did any of them pay special attention to you? Anyone try to keep in touch with you after she died?”
She knew from experience not to answer too quickly. She gave time to process the question carefully. “None after she died. Really, none of them seemed interested in me at all. I was the fly on the wall, the invisible elephant in the room. No one contacted me after she died.”
“Did your mother have trouble with any of them after a breakup?”
With a slow shake of the head, she said, “No, really, my mother was always the one clinging to hope in a relationship long after it was gone.”
Mick rubbed his chin for a moment. “Do you think she made trouble for any of them—you know, like with the next girlfriend?”
She couldn’t recall anything but overwhelming sadness and resignation once a boyfriend had walked out. “I don’t think so, but I was only a kid. There could have been lots going on that I missed completely.”
The long breath Mick blew out sounded as fatigued as she felt. But he still asked another question. “How about the foster kid that was at the Rogerses’ when you arrived? Remember anything special about him?”
A Kiss in Winter Page 25