Reclaim My Life

by Cheryl Norman

  Wilson came to the bedroom door. “Anything I can help you pack?”

  She grabbed her duffel. “Everything I can take is in here. I can’t even take my movie collection.”

  “I could hang onto it for you.”

  “Wilson.” She shook her head. “Take my DVD collection. It’s yours. We both know I can’t come back.”

  His face twisted into an anguished frown. “Don’t say that—”

  “You can’t live in limbo, waiting for something that may not happen.” She loved him too much for him to put his life on hold.

  “I will wait for you. Don’t doubt it.”

  What if Sullivan succeeded? What if she didn’t survive his contract killer? “But—”

  “Let’s get out of here. We can discuss this later.”

  “Where are we going? And what about dinner at Sunny’s?”

  “We’re going to park your truck behind the station out of sight. Then I’m keeping you with me wherever I go. Understand?”

  “Are you kidding?” She laughed, but it sounded forced even to her own ears. “I’m scared spitless. I’m sticking so close to you you’d better not make any sudden stops or I’ll run smack into your back.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know where you’re staying, not even Sunny. Got it?”

  “Got it.” She’d stayed alive so far by trusting no one—except Wilson. She wasn’t going to take chances now. “Where are we staying?”

  “A safe house.” He opened the door to the carport.

  “Wait. If you’re saying we’re riding out this hurricane together in a secret location, let’s take all the canned goods and jugs of water I stocked in my pantry.”

  “Okay. We’ll load everything into the Jeep, but we need to hurry.”

  Wil had Elizabeth drive ahead of him. He didn’t want her out of his sight. He’d told her to drive straight up Park Street to Coronado then pull into the sheriff’s office parking lot behind the building. Even though it was early afternoon, they both drove with headlights because of the growing darkness. She parked and waited for Wil before exiting her vehicle. Smart lady.

  He showed her into his office via the private entrance. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded. Her drooping posture and sad eyes said more than words to describe her state of mind. He headed for Zelda’s desk, where she stood with a steaming Styrofoam cup. “Is that coffee fresh?”

  “Just finished brewing.”

  “Find Fred for me while I grab a cup.” He went into the break room and filled two cups with coffee. He stuffed Mini Moo’s and sugar packets into his shirt pocket, then headed toward his office.

  Fred met him at the door. “You looking for me?”

  “Yes. Grab a cup, and step inside my office.”

  But Fred shook his head. “I’ve had enough coffee today. Between the caffeine and the smoke, I’m flirting with a headache.”

  “I couldn’t tell if the darkness was from the clouds or the smoke.”

  “Probably both.”

  Entering his office, Wil handed Elizabeth one of the coffees and then scooted behind his desk to sit. He didn’t have another chair to offer Fred, but what he had to say wouldn’t take long. “Elizabeth Stevens, this is Chief Deputy Fischer. Professor Stevens teaches English at the college, Fred.”

  Fred shook hands with her, then turned to Wil. “What’s up?”

  He fished the creamers and sugar packets from his pocket, then tossed them onto the desk within Elizabeth’s reach. “I’m taking some personal time away from the office. It has to do with Dad and the hurricane—”

  “No need to explain, Wil. You haven’t taken so much as an hour off since you took office. If you need to leave, I’ll see to things here.”

  “I appreciate that. You’re in charge. I’ll have my cell phone. When the hurricane hits, we’ll probably lose the towers, though.”

  “More ‘n likely. Don’t worry. We’ve been over this disaster plan. Each of us knows what to do.” Fred didn’t ask him to explain Elizabeth’s presence, and Wil didn’t offer. “Do you need me to work with FDLE on the homicide investigations?”

  Elizabeth peeled open a Mini Moo to pour into her coffee. She didn’t look up, but Wil caught the tension in her shoulders at the mention of the homicides.

  “Everything’s on hold until the storm passes. Special Agent Buckner’s gone back to Tallahassee.”

  “I hope she made it to the interstate before the traffic jam. Amelia Island and up the coast to Tybee Island are being evacuated.”

  “Tybee Island? Then it sounds as if they expect the eye to go north of us.”

  “That’s the projected path. As you know, we’ve received no evacuation order.” Fred shrugged. “Stay tuned to The Weather Channel.”

  “Me and everyone else. If the phone service is out, check with Sam. I may be at his place.” Not likely, but he couldn’t trust anyone with the truth.

  Fred’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from the clip and frowned. “I need to get this.”

  “We’re through.” Wil waved him away, and Fred stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Elizabeth took a drink of her coffee. “So you’re using your vacation time to hide me?”

  “Officially. Cory says not to involve anyone else. He doesn’t know where there’s a leak.”

  She gave him a grim nod. “Sullivan is part of what they call a good-old-boy mafia. He seems to have a lot of reach.”

  “Maybe. But sometimes those crime syndicates collapse like stacked dominoes when one of them is taken out. Don’t lose hope.”

  She gave him a look that seemed anything but hopeful, and stood. “Where’s the women’s restroom?”

  “I’ll show you.” He opened the door and almost collided with Fred. After he’d pointed Elizabeth toward the rest-rooms, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “Yeah, but I’m on it. Ralph Sapp is being taken by ambulance to Gainesville. They can’t risk a helicopter in this wind.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Fred clenched his hands at his side. “Victim of an apparent hit and run. Bastard didn’t even slow down.”

  “Was Ralph on his bicycle?”

  “Yeah. That was Libby calling from the ambulance. She tried asking him who hit him, but he lost consciousness, poor guy. And Libby’s holding on by a thread.”

  Wil saw more than normal concern in the older man’s eyes. Fred had a soft spot for the mentally challenged man. He seemed to feel even more for the man’s mother. Fred had carried his share of loneliness since losing his wife to cancer four years earlier. If he’d taken an interest in Libby Sapp, good for him.

  “Put out the word to watch for vehicle damage. If it’s a local, the driver will struggle to hide the evidence.”

  “Chief Gillespie called it in to FHP—”

  “So Ralph was struck within city limits?”

  “Right. We’ll all be on the lookout, though. The highway patrol have their hands full with evacuee traffic.”

  “Yeah, but that could work in our favor. It’s hard to hide a damaged vehicle in slow-moving traffic, especially with the highway patrol out in full force.” Wil squeezed the older man’s shoulder. “Let me know Ralph’s condition as soon as you hear from his mama.”

  “If I can get through. But you tend to your personal business. We’ll be all right here.”

  Wil debated telling his friend and mentor the truth, but couldn’t. Cory’s warning echoed in his head. It wasn’t a matter of not trusting Fred. But he had to keep his word, both to Cory and to Elizabeth. He’d do nothing to jeopardize her safety. “Fred, I feel like I’m running out on everyone when they need me most. We have a forest fire, a hurricane, two homicides, a—”

  “I trust you, Wil. I know you aren’t goofing off. Now trust me to do the job till you get back.”

  “I know you will. Thanks.”

  Fred nodded, his gaze darting past Wil’s. “Get out of here, and stop worrying.”

&n
bsp; Fred pivoted toward his own office, which was adjacent to the dispatch room, and Elizabeth returned to Wil’s side. “What now?”

  “Wait for me inside my office. I need to find Zelda.”

  “Here I am.” Zelda rushed in from the reception area. “Phyllis Gillespie’s here and wants to interview you about the two homicide investigations.”

  “I’m not available. In fact, I’m going to be out of the office for a couple days, and Fred’s in charge. Tell her she can make an appointment with Chief Deputy Fischer, or she can wait until next week. I’m out of here.”

  Zelda grinned. “I’ll give you a two-minute head start, and then I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped into his office and closed the door. “Let’s go. I need to see about Dad before we go underground.”

  She stood. “What about dinner at Sunny’s?”

  He ushered her out the private door and nudged her toward the Jeep before answering. “I think you can cancel without arousing suspicion, considering the smoke and the weather.”

  “Good. I’m too nervous to be good company tonight.”

  He paused beside the Jeep. “Darlin’, you’re always good company.”

  Elizabeth stepped out of the Jeep at Dean Drake’s residence and peered at the sky. “This is eerie. Did you ever see the movie Dante’s Peak?”

  “I don’t remember. Tell me about it.” Wilson took her elbow and walked her to the front door.

  “Dante’s Peak is a town built near a dormant volcano. Pierce Brosnan tries to warn the town that it’s about to erupt. No one believes him until it’s too late.”

  “Yeah, I think Dad and I watched that one night. What about it?”

  “Remember how the sky turned dark with ash, and the heat from the lava stirred up the winds?”

  Wilson followed her gaze. “You’re right—this is similar. It’s spooky.”

  Greeting them at the door was a forty-something-year-old woman whom Elizabeth guessed to be Iris Porter’s mother, Hazel, the overzealous wielder of rat poison.

  “Come in. Your father’s in the bathroom but he’ll be right out.”

  Sophie crowded them at the door, eager for attention. After Wilson pushed Elizabeth inside ahead of him, he scratched the dog behind both ears, managing to close the door behind him in the process. “Miss Hazel, this is Professor Stevens.”

  She offered her hand to Hazel. “Call me Elizabeth, please.”

  “Nice meeting you.” Hazel shook hands. “I’ve got a pot of stew in the slow cooker for supper, but I’ve got to leave.”

  “I don’t blame you. You be careful.”

  “I don’t know if I can get here tomorrow—”

  “Sam will be here. He’s shut down classes for tomorrow.”

  Hazel left a few minutes later. Wilson waited for his father by the bathroom door, where Sophie lay. “Dad may need help. Sam doesn’t have safety bars installed.”

  “Shall I go check the stew and give you two privacy?”

  “Good idea. Just don’t go near any windows.”

  “I won’t. I’ll give Sunny a call about canceling tonight, too.”

  “There’s a telephone near the kitchen table.” He rapped on the bathroom door. “Dad, it’s Wil.”

  “Good. I need an extra hand.”

  Wil appreciated the embarrassment his dad must feel asking for help getting dressed. He’d always been a strong, domineering man. The stroke had changed him, but it hadn’t defeated him. Wilson opened the door and found his dad leaning against the lavatory with his pants caught at his hips. After righting his clothes and fastening them, he washed his hands. Wil had to step out into the hall to position the wheelchair, but his dad used the doorjamb and managed to sit.

  “What’s new with your murder cases?” he asked.

  Wil wheeled him into the living room, then took a seat in one of Sam’s two wingback chairs. “The second victim has been tentatively ID’d as Kris Knight, a high school English teacher—”

  “The one I saw Adam Gillespie out on the river with.”

  “Right.” Wil leaned forward to better hear his soft-spoken dad. It always saddened him to see how the stroke had reduced his father’s loud, authoritative voice to little more than a whisper. But at least he’d regained his speech. “We’re still waiting on the postmortem exam. The pistol found in the river was originally purchased by a guy in Texas named Morgan O’Hare, a fictitious name. The FBI guys have a file on him. Our prime suspect in the Cathleen Hodges case, her ex-boyfriend, has been cleared.”

  “You said Adam dated both women—”

  “Dad, I know where you’re going with this—”

  “You’re too trusting. Don’t overlook the possibility. The Gillespies would like nothing better than to dump your career in the toilet. You have two homicides, one of which also triggered a bad forest fire, and you have nothing to link these women except Adam.”

  “I have more to link them than Adam, Dad. Both women were new to Drake Springs, both were about the same age, and both were romantically unattached. They were part of a foursome, a group of women who regularly ate out together and shopped together. Now two of the four have been murdered.”

  “Who are the other two ladies?”

  “Sunny Davis, who runs the campus bookstore, and Elizabeth Stevens, who’s here with me now.” Wil listened to the low murmur of Elizabeth’s voice as she talked on the telephone.

  “The one who took care of Sophie.” Dad nodded, digesting this information. Upon hearing her name, the dog raised its head. When his dad petted her, she lay down again. “So what’s the motive?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  His dad snorted. “I think you need to take another look at Gillespie. That man’s not to be trusted.”

  Wil nodded. The last thing he needed was his dad upset over old grudges. “I can’t afford to rule out anyone at this point.” Which was true. Could Wil be fooled by Adam? He gave his nemesis more credit than to take human life to tarnish Wil’s term in office. But what if that wasn’t the motive? What if Adam had other reasons for killing two women?

  “Now with this hurricane ready to make landfall, let’s hope the killer doesn’t strike again.”

  “He may have already.” Elizabeth stood in the doorway of the living room, her face ashen. She leaned against the doorjamb. “Sunny’s missing.”

  “What? We just saw her—”

  “I called the bookstore. According to the student working there, she never returned from lunch. He was there by himself and closing the store so he could leave. I called her apartment. Ian says he hasn’t seen her since early this morning. Both her bicycle and her car are gone.”

  “She probably ran some errands after she left us.”

  “Wilson, she didn’t have her car. She rode her bike to campus this morning. Either Ian’s mistaken or …”

  “Or what? What’s the matter?”

  “Oh no.” She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, hugging her knees. “I begged her to talk to you herself, but she said she didn’t believe she was in danger.”

  He hurried to her and took her hand. Her skin was clammy and alarmingly colorless. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “I—I think you need to look closer at Ian Davis. He may not be the tenderhearted geek we all assumed him to be.”

  When Wilson released her hand, she opened her eyes, missing the comfort of his touch. She’d grown too dependent on him, too ready to accept his comfort and reassurance. Just as she’d feared, she had set herself up for heartache. A part of her had been in denial, convinced she could stay in Drake Springs and build a new life with the man she loved.

  Wilson whipped out his cell phone and punched a number he obviously had on speed dial. “Jamie, are you on duty? Good. Stop by Dean Drake’s residence on campus. I need your expertise.”

  “Jamie’s your deputy, right?”

  Bending, he took Elizabeth’s arms and helped her stand. “She’s good with computers. I’m going to ha
ve her check out a few things while we still have internet access. If anyone can figure out if something’s off with Ian Davis, Jamie can.”

  Elizabeth sank into one of the wingback chairs in the dean’s living room. Wilson sat in the matching chair facing her. Rich burgundy upholstery and draperies, traditional styled furniture, solid wood bookcases and tables—all came together to fit her expectations of what a dean’s residence should look like … thirty years ago. Samuel and Wilson Drake’s grandmother probably furnished the house. If so, the dean had changed very little of it.

  Harold’s wheelchair and few belongings added the only disorder to an otherwise neatly arranged place. Order was one thing she and the dean had in common, which made her WitSec living arrangements so maddening. Flexibility wasn’t her forte. Instead of feeling sorry for her situation, she focused on her missing friend.

  Until now, she’d worried that Cathleen and Kris had been murdered as a case of mistaken identity for Sofia Desalvo. But Sunny was the wrong age and appearance. Her preoccupation with Ian’s “spying” since she’d returned from Boston may not have been an over-reaction. Maybe she had good reason to worry.

  Harold scooted his wheelchair toward Wilson. “Are you saying another woman’s missing?”

  Wilson looked up from his cell phone. “Maybe. It’s only four-o’clock, so she may turn up.”

  “I hope so,” she murmured. But each time she replayed Sunny’s conversations in her head, she feared the worst. “Wilson, do you believe Sunny’s disappearance is connected to the other two?”

  “We don’t know for certain that she has disappeared, but I can’t ignore the possibility.” Wilson called another number. “Sam? It’s important. Can you pull Sunny Davis’s employment file and bring it home with you?” A pause. “Yeah, I know. Listen, she’s missing. Break a rule for me, bro.”

  “I told Ian to call the police, but I don’t think he will. He says she’d kill him if he reported her missing.” Elizabeth shivered at his choice of words. “Besides, what if he’s responsible?”

  Wilson returned his cell phone to its clip. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”