Bone Deep

by Debra Webb

  Jill shoved her feet back into her shoes and stood, the legs of her chair scraping across the floor. She didn’t need her mother to remind her that her father had been disappointed in her more often than not. “Well, the Judge is dead, Mother, he can’t see anything. However, you’re very much alive. I wonder why it is that you can’t see what’s right in front of you? Don’t you want Cody found and Kate cleared of guilt?”

  Claire Ellington’s cheeks flushed with anger, but her voice was calm when she spoke. “Of course I want those things! I love you, Jill, and I love your sister and my grandson. All of you are gifts straight from God. But I won’t allow you to drag this family’s good name through the dirt while you try and prove some pointless theory. I asked you to come here and see that your sister was properly cared for and that the situation was resolved appropriately. If you can’t do that, then you should at least have enough respect for what your father stood for to admit defeat and suffer through this as I am.”

  Jill stormed out of the room before she said something she would regret later. Her mother was unbelievable. Another blast of fury thundered through her at the idea that the chief was watching her. What the hell was wrong with these people? Didn’t they realize that a child was missing and a man was dead and something had to be done about how and why it happened? Did they think they could sweep it under the rug and it would simply go away? That life in Paradise would go back to business as usual as if a murder had never happened?

  She considered locking herself away in her room to cry it out, but thought better of it. She needed a walk to burn off some of this adrenaline. Her feet were already aching but she couldn’t trust herself under the same roof with her mother at the moment. Jill wanted to shake her. But it would change nothing. Claire Ellington had been born and raised to consider the family name first and foremost over all else. Even her own daughters and grandson.

  Jill immediately regretted the thought. Her mother meant well. Claire had known and trusted Chief Dotson her whole life. She had no idea how the law could be manipulated to suit one’s own purposes.

  Just more proof that Jill was alone in this. She jerked the front door open and took an immediate step back.

  Paul Phillips stood on the opposite side of the threshold, one fist poised to knock.

  For several seconds Jill couldn’t speak. At first she was afraid she’d somehow conjured up his image and that if she blinked he’d disappear. She reached out and touched him. He flinched. A cyclone of emotions whirled through her. He was real all right. His eyes were a little red around the rims and a lot blood shot as if he hadn’t slept much or had gotten rip roaring drunk last night. Five o’clock shadow darkened his lean jaw. As usual the jeans were faded, the shirt worn comfortable, and he’d opted for that one concession to the establishment, a sports jacket, a lightweight one in deference to the heat.

  Jill’s knees went traitorously weak with relief. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life. “Did you forget something, Dr. Phillips?”

  He shrugged one wide shoulder. “If you still want my help, I’m available.”

  Anger flared hot and fast. He’d left her here to do this on her own, forcing her to almost admit defeat. Gratitude at the idea of having him back vaporized that emotion in an instant. Whatever his past, he was on her side. Maybe he was a charlatan but at least she wouldn’t be in this alone.

  “Are you sure about that?” She worked at collecting the composure that had scattered far and wide this day. God, she was tired.

  He glanced about the verandah as if looking for a new topic to discuss. “Yeah. Unfortunately, indecision is one of my many vices.”

  “You’ll help me find the answers I’m looking for before you take off again?” She held her breath, praying that he planned to see this thing all the way through. As many doubts as she had about him, after today she was one hundred percent certain she couldn’t do this alone.

  He shrugged again. “Why not? I’ve tortured myself before and lived to talk about it.”

  Relief, so profound that she almost wept, washed over her. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “We should talk.” He looked beyond her shoulder for a moment. “Privately.”

  Her nerves frayed a little more but she held onto the hope his presence provided, foolish as that might prove. “You’re timing is perfect, Dr. Phillips. I was just going out to dinner. We’ll get a quiet table somewhere.”

  ~*~

  Jill chose the same restaurant where she’d met with Cullen Marks. It wasn’t that Quinton’s was the classiest place in town, it was the ambiance. Quiet, tasteful, and spacious. Tables weren’t too close together and if she asked for one in the back, she and Phillips would have plenty of privacy.

  When the valet had driven away in his Land Rover, Phillips hesitated before going inside. “Did something happen today that you’re not telling me about?”

  That he’d picked up on her agitation so quickly surprised her. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all night.”

  The restaurant’s double doors opened and Mayor Austin Hammersly exited along with one of Paradise’s other esteemed residents, Senator Kenneth Wade. The senator was far taller than the mayor and considerably more charming.

  “Good evening Mayor, Senator.” Jill hadn’t seen either man in years. The senator had attended Vanderbilt with her father.

  Both men looked straight at Phillips, then at Jill. She tensed. After the chief’s call to her mother, everyone who was anyone in Paradise likely had heard about the man she’d invited to town. The chief didn’t make a move in this town without the mayor’s input. She wasn’t so sure that dance extended to the senator.

  “Jillian,” the mayor said coolly.

  Oh, yes. He was aware of her poking around in the investigation and he was not pleased.

  “Why, Jillian Ellington,” the senator enthused, “it’s good to see you.” He took her by the shoulders and dropped a fleeting kiss on her cheek. “I certainly wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

  “That makes two of us,” she agreed. Then she pretended to remember her manners, when in actuality she’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “This is Dr. Paul Phillips. He’s here to help me with Kate’s situation.”

  “Ken Wade,” the senator said, grasping Phillips’ hand and pumping it twice. “Let me introduce you to Mayor Austin Hammersly.”

  His face beet red, the mayor’s gesture was noticeably brief, a mere grazing of palms. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure.”

  Jill braced for the inevitable.

  The mayor’s hell fire and brimstone expression flew in her direction. “How could you come back here, young lady, and bring in an outsider to check up on us? Why, the chief is appalled. Have you no respect for the man? He’s had folks calling all day, demanding to know about the deceptions to which you’re alluding.”

  “Mayor, there’s been a misunderstanding. I wasn’t—”

  “I know what you’re doing,” he blurted. “You’re behaving just as you did back in your melodramatic teenage years. Grow up, Jillian. Stop trying to turn this tragic event into some sort of spotlight for yourself. Have some respect for your sister and her poor dead husband!”

  And what about her son? She should have been angry at his accusations. She should have winced at the injustice of it. Instead, all she could think was why hadn’t he mentioned the child. Didn’t it matter that he was missing? Presumed dead?

  “Austin, good heavens, man!” the senator implored. “Jillian isn’t trying to cause trouble. She’s only trying to understand this unspeakable tragedy. Give her some grace!”

  She found her voice. “I’m sorry if my actions caused any trouble, Mayor. But the Senator’s right. I need to understand how this happened.”

  The mayor glowered at her without sympathy, but refrained from further comment.

  “Rest assured, Jillian.” Senator Wade dragged her attention back to him. “I won’t rest until this matter is cleared
to both our satisfactions.”

  She dredged up a smile. Whether it was his heartfelt desire or simply the politician in him, she appreciated the sentiment. Her negativity tolerance had already far exceeded its daily limit.

  “I look forward to meeting you again, Dr. Phillips,” the senator said in parting. “I hope you’ll work with Chief Dotson and help us right this terrible wrong.”

  Phillips nodded and watched the two men walk away before reaching for the door. He sent an assessing glance in Jill’s direction. “How about we order a drink before I ask what that was about?”

  She nodded, too physically and emotionally drained to speak.

  Things just couldn’t get any worse.

  Strike that, things could get a lot worse. Cody was still missing.

  Chapter 7

  Jill stared at her salad, fork clasped in her hand as if she was weighing the pros and cons of taking that first bite.

  “You should eat,” Paul suggested.

  When she’d opened that door and found him standing on her mother’s verandah, she’d looked ready to collapse in surrender. Her expression had brightened as if he was the answer to her prayers. That was asking a hell of a lot from a burned out has been like him. Considering he was on pretty shaky ground in more ways than one, maybe it was crazy to even hope. Despite the cold, hard truth, for the first time in a long time, for reasons he couldn’t fully fathom, he wanted to get this right.

  He was a fool. But it wasn’t the first time and he doubted it would be the last as long as he was still breathing.

  “I’m not sure I can,” she murmured, then propped her chin in her free hand. “Everything has gone wrong.”

  He watched her eyes grow moist with tears and the urge to reach out to her was almost more than he could resist. He had to be very careful here. Tread slowly and cautiously. He was purposely putting himself at risk... for her. Control was all that kept him sane. As risky as this decision was, he knew with every fiber of his being that Jillian Ellington was in danger and he had to discern the source before it was too late.

  Maybe for both of them.

  “It’s easy,” he said, scooting those troubling thoughts to the side. “Take a forkful into your mouth, chew, swallow. Repeat.”

  Those blues eyes darted up to look at him. “There’s more than mechanics involved, Phillips.”

  He gestured to the stemmed glass at her right. “That’ll make it easier.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?” A skeptical arch of one golden eyebrow punctuated the pointed question.

  He pushed his own, empty salad plate away and relaxed more fully into the chair. “I thought you were glad to see me.”

  Contrition instantly replaced the skepticism. “I’m very glad. I apologize for being a... well, a bitch.” She straightened and stared down at her salad once more. “Like I said, it’s been a really bad day.”

  “Eat,” he ordered. “I won’t discuss the case with you until then.”

  She shot him another look across the table. “Blackmail?”

  “Trust me, I’ve been known to stoop lower than that.”

  This lady didn’t like being bossed around, but she acquiesced because the end would justify the means. So she ate, slowly, daintily. Nothing like the way he wolfed down a meal. He often went for a day, two even, without remembering to eat, then he was like a ravenous animal. The way a person ate spoke volumes about them. Were they shy? Confident? Eager? Reluctant?

  Confident and reserved. That was Jillian Ellington. She, more than the case, was why he had come back. There was a strange connection between them. For the first time in a long time he wanted—no he needed—to protect someone.

  Cutting himself some slack, he had driven all the way back to Memphis, drank himself into oblivion, and then awakened at noon with a hellacious hangover and fear knotting in his gut. The fear had been different this time. He’d faced his reflection in his dreams, as always, and had known somehow that looking at that image was like staring at his own death. But this time the fear hadn’t been for him. It had been for her. He felt the danger all around her. Knew if he didn’t stay close something bad would happen to her. Soon.

  He had to come back.

  For once since his life turned into this waking nightmare, he wanted to do the right thing regardless of the consequences.

  He wanted to stop running from the fear. To face his demons. He wanted some kind of life back. Hell of a decision to make in less than forty-eight hours. Or maybe irrational decisions were a new level to his ongoing nightmare.

  Time would tell just how badly he’d screwed up this time.

  “That’s the best I can do,” she said of the half-eaten salad. “Satisfied?”

  He studied her for a moment or two before giving her what she wanted. “Tell me what happened today.”

  “The hospital called early this morning. Kate had a grand mal seizure late last night and things were shaky for a while. The doctor hopes to know more about what caused the episode in a day or two. He’s running tests.”

  Paul was familiar with the drugs used to medicate Kate. He’d reviewed her chart. If she had been medicated last night, and according to her chart that happened at eight each night, she should have been out for the duration. If she didn’t have a history of epilepsy, there could be an underlying cause, drug interaction, or even something related to her psychotic break. The timing just seemed a little off, a little late for a drug interaction since she’d been taking the same ones for two days with no adverse reaction, and a little early for the drugs to have worn off sufficiently to facilitate conditions for a seizure. He opted to keep that to himself until he could review her chart again.

  “After spending some time with her,” Jill went on, “I decided to start interviewing her neighbors and the people she associated with frequently to see if anyone remembered seeing Cody Sunday afternoon or evening. I asked if they’d noticed anything odd in hers or Karl’s behavior lately.” She shrugged. “I spent the whole day going from door to door, shop to shop.”

  The waiter came, cleared the salad plates from their table, then deposited the steaming entrees before them. The steak and baked potato Paul had ordered had his mouth watering. He glanced at Jill’s selection, linguini with white clam sauce and steamed vegetables. Only a woman would order something that delicate and insubstantial, in his opinion, when she hadn’t eaten all day. But then, the starch-laden carbs would serve as a good energy booster.

  “And what did you learn?” he asked as he sliced into the medium well New York strip.

  “Nothing.”

  The defeat in her voice brought his head up. “Nothing?”

  “They were the perfect couple. The perfect family. No one can believe it happened. No arguments, no strange behavior, no money woes. Nothing. Well, except for their neighbor’s nanny. She seemed a little nervous. But if she knows anything, she isn’t telling.” Jill sighed. “Bottom line, everyone I spoke to said the same thing.”

  If she’d told him that a close family friend, or even two, had insisted all was perfect in the Manning household, he wouldn’t be surprised. People only saw what they wanted to. But everyone?

  “How many people are we talking about?”

  Her brow lined in concentration. “Thirty, maybe thirty-five.”

  His instincts kicked into overdrive. “Start at the beginning. Who, exactly, did you interview?”

  “I stopped at every house in High Point, the housing development where she lives. The baker, the grocer, the librarian, several shop owners, and even the postmaster. They all said exactly the same thing.”

  His gaze narrowed, alarm bells going off in his head.

  She leaned forward slightly as if she wanted to be absolutely certain that no one else heard the next part. “Then when I got home, my mother cross examined me.” Her eyes widened with disbelief. “My mother, for Christ’s sake! She demanded to know what I’d been doing. When things escalated she admitted that the chief had called and wanted to kn
ow what I was doing asking questions and making accusations!”

  “Were you making accusations?”

  She made a sound of frustration. “Of course not. If anyone really said that, it was only because they came to that conclusion on their own.”

  “You did learn something,” he said. Her expression argued his assertion. “You learned that no one here wants to see the truth. They prefer to pretend bad things don’t happen in Paradise.”

  “That’s it.” She laughed, a dry, weary sound. “It felt like I was in Stepford, Connecticut. You know, the movie about the perfect wives.”

  “I know the one.” He nodded to her plate. “Eat.” Paul took a bite of his steak. Eventually, Jill surrendered. She swirled the linguini around her fork and then lifted it to her lips. She had nice lips.

  He waited before saying anymore. He wanted her to focus on the meal. For a while they ate, allowing the hum of other conversations to fill the void. Eventually she placed her fork on the table and turned her attention to her wine. He did the same.

  “The chief knows who I am.” He should have foreseen this problem and used an alias. With only a few calls the chief had likely determined they had an ex-profiler who specialized in missing persons and in getting into the minds of the perpetrators as well as the victims. He’d no doubt also perused the less flattering stories available on the internet. But then, he hadn’t intended to stay.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured distractedly. “But my mother did seem inordinately annoyed that I’d brought you here. Makes sense that the chief said something.”

  “The chief has told people to be careful what they say to you. That you’re trouble.” Paul considered the hurtful words the mayor had flung at her tonight. “What’s the deal with you and the mayor?”

  Jill stared at her plate again. He suspected it wasn’t because she wanted to admire the remnants of her dinner or that she didn’t understand the question. She just didn’t want to face the question. The subject was painful. He could feel her hurt.