by Paula Graves
Becky’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, my God, you remember?”
“Not everything,” Sara admitted. “I don’t actually remember seeing you that night. I just remember standing outside your house. I think it was not long after sunset, and Donnie and I were arguing about something.”
Becky’s brow furrowed. “Arguing about what? About us?”
“You and Jim?” Sara shook her head. “No. Why would you think that?”
“No reason. I guess maybe I’m just looking for some clue to what Jim did this morning. He never really told me why we weren’t supposed to talk about that night. Just said it would be messy for us to get involved. He was trying to get a raise at the school, and I was trying to get voted president of the Ridge County Women’s League at the time, and he said someone might accuse me of giving you too much to drink that night.”
“I don’t drink,” Sara said. “And certainly not when I might be driving.”
“I know you didn’t drink that night. I’m just saying what Jim said people would say.” Becky’s lips pressed into a tight line of teary frustration. “You sound like you suspect him of something else. Is it because he shot himself? You think he’s feeling guilty about something?”
Sara didn’t have a chance to answer. Jeff Allen had returned from the gift shop with his younger brother and sister. She got up, making room for the children in the chairs beside Becky. “I’ll see if anyone has an update,” she said with a final pat to Becky’s shoulder.
She crossed to where her father and Brad Ellis were still conversing in low tones. They looked up with grim expressions as she joined the huddle. “Anything new?” she asked.
“He’s still alive,” Brad told her, sparing a quick glance toward Becky and the kids. “Apparently he’s not a great shot, lucky for him. But it’s still too soon to know if he’s going to make it.”
“How did this happen?” Sara asked. “Who found him?”
“One of the kids on his baseball team, Davy Lavelle. Poor kid’s completely freaked out, as you can imagine.”
“Was there a note?”
“Not that we’ve been able to find,” Brad admitted. “We haven’t gone to his house yet—we figured we’d wait until we knew more about his condition before we disturb Becky that way.”
“I think you need to get his DNA,” Sara said flatly.
Brad’s brow furrowed. “His DNA?”
Sara’s father looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You think he may have fathered Ariel Burke’s baby, don’t you?”
She nodded. “And Renee Lindsey’s, too.”
“What would make you suspect Jim Allen of all people?” Brad glanced across the room at Becky and the kids, and Sara could imagine what he was thinking. Even red-eyed and in shock, Becky Allen was still as beautiful now as when she’d been Purgatory High’s homecoming queen and snagged the heart of the cutest guy on the baseball team. Maybe even more beautiful, as time had only enhanced her classic looks. Why would a man with a woman like that at home ever think of straying?
She didn’t know the answer. She only knew that in her experience as a cop, she’d learned that a good-looking wife at home was no guarantee a man wouldn’t cheat.
“Did Cain Dennison put that idea in your head?” her father asked.
“I’m capable of coming up with ideas without help,” she said more sharply than she intended.
Her father’s eyebrows notched upward at her tone. “Fair enough.”
She shot him a look of apology. “I remembered something about the night of my accident that made me question whether Jim Allen might be hiding something.” She told them about her memory of arguing with Donnie outside the Allens’ home. “And Becky just now confirmed that we were there that night.”
“You’re kidding me.” Her father looked dumfounded. “We begged people to come forward with information about what the two of you were doing in town that night. Nobody did. And you’re telling me Jim and Becky knew all along where you’d been?”
“Becky told me Jim convinced her not to tell. He said it was because they didn’t need to get mixed up in a police investigation, with him being a teacher at the high school and her running for Women’s League president.”
“That’s no sort of reason.” Brad shook his head.
“Did you remember why you were there?” Carl asked, his hand closing over her shoulder, warm and firm.
She shook her head. “And I didn’t really get a chance to ask Becky before her kids came back from the gift shop.”
“I didn’t realize you and Donnie were friends with the Allens,” Brad said, slanting a look toward Becky Allen.
“We weren’t. That’s what’s strange about it.” Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she spotted Cain standing near the exit. He gave a slight nod in her direction. “Excuse me a minute,” she said, already moving away from her father and Brad.
“Didn’t think I should just be loitering around the waiting room, annoying your father and drawing attention,” Cain said quietly as she walked outside with him. Nodding toward a bench a few feet away, he led the way, and they settled there, warmed by a shaft of mild sunshine. “What did Becky have to say?”
“More than I expected,” she admitted, telling him what Becky had revealed about the night of her accident. “It was so strange, hearing her talk about an event she so clearly remembered. And I can’t remember any of it.”
“Maybe if you could go back to their house or something...”
“On what pretext?”
“Maybe to pick up some things for Becky. Sounds like Jim has a chance of surviving, but if he does, he’ll be here for a long haul. Not just because of the injury, but for psychiatric evaluation, too.”
“Actually, why don’t I offer to take the kids home? At least the two little ones. Being here, seeing Jeff and their mother in so much turmoil, has to be scaring them to death. I could stay with them until Becky can arrange for someone to watch them.” And while she was there, she could have a look around, see if anything jogged her memory.
Cain nodded. “Good idea.”
“Meanwhile, find out where Becky works,” she added, lowering her voice as a couple of women dressed in scrubs passed them on their way into the hospital. “There has to be some way that Jim Allen found out about Renee’s pregnancy. If Becky worked for Renee’s doctor, that might be how.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to go to the Allens’ place by yourself?”
She slanted a look at him, surprised by his cautious tone. “I was a cop for years, you know. I reckon I can take care of myself. Or are you talking about the babysitting part?”
His lips curved slightly at her final question, but the smile faded quickly. “Actually, I was thinking about the fact that you still have a big gap in your memory of the night your husband died, and part of that missing time was apparently spent in that house you’re about to go looking through. What if you do remember something? Something you don’t want to remember?”
Her stomach turned a queasy flip at the thought. He had a point, she knew. If there was no physical reason why she shouldn’t be able to remember the missing hours from that night, as the doctors had told her, why wasn’t she remembering it?
What had she experienced that her subconscious didn’t want to deal with?
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to Becky’s house alone,” Cain said quietly.
“I can’t exactly make the offer to watch her kids, then ask if I can take a friend.” She straightened her back and stood. “I’m fine. I’ll get the kids settled and distracted from their worries, and then if I get a chance, I can look around. See if anything triggers any memories.”
Cain rose as well, his fingers brushing her arm. A tingle of raw physical attraction jolted through her at his brief touch, but eclipsing even that was a sweet, bracing warmth that seemed to flow between them.
It felt like more than just sexual attraction, she realized. It felt like a real connection. Something that might h
ave a chance of lasting, if that’s what she wanted.
Was it what she wanted?
“If you need me, call,” he said quietly.
“I’m not going to need you,” she said, making herself pull away from his touch. They were getting too close too quickly. She wasn’t ready to feel something powerful enough to change her life.
Was she?
Cain’s eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, swallowing a sudden flood of fear. She reentered the E.R. and headed toward the bench where Becky still sat with her scared-eyed children, sparing a last, quick glance at Cain, who peeled off toward her father. He met her gaze, his expression troubled, before he turned away.
Sara turned her attention to Becky. “Still no word from the doctors?”
Becky shook her head. “They said it might be a while before we know anything new.”
“Why don’t I take the younger kids back to your house?” Sara suggested, taking the empty seat next to Jeff. “They could probably use a break from the stress. I could get them settled down watching a movie or something and stay with them until you can arrange for someone to be with them more permanently.”
Becky cocked her head, her blue eyes soft with gratitude. “You don’t mind doing that?”
“I don’t mind. I might need driving directions, though. I haven’t been over in that area in a while.”
“Of course.” While Sara dug in her purse for a pen and piece of paper, Becky asked her two younger children, Gracie and Jonah, if they would like to go home for a while. “Miss Sara is an old friend of your daddy’s and mine, and she can take you home and let you watch movies.”
“I could pop some popcorn, too, if you like,” Sara offered, handing the pen and paper to Becky to write down directions to the house.
The offer didn’t evoke any excitement from the two younger kids, but they got up willingly enough when Sara rose to leave.
“Don’t let them get into the candy at the top of the cabinet in the kitchen,” Becky warned. “I’m saving that for Halloween.”
“Got it.” With an encouraging smile toward Becky and her older son, Sara led the two younger children outside and across the access road to where her truck was parked. She shot a quick look at Cain as she passed him on the way out, and he answered with a slight arch of his eyebrows.
Once she got the two kids strapped into seat belts on the bench seat behind her, Sara took the interstate south toward Purgatory. While she drove, she contemplated what route to take once she got to the Purgatory exit. There were quicker ways to reach the Allens’ house in Quarry Heights, but she decided on Black Creek Road once she took the turnoff toward town. The mountain road was by far the most winding and treacherous, but for whatever reason, the night of the accident she and Donnie had chosen to take that road.
Maybe taking that road now would jog her memory.
The best route to the interstate highway that would take them back to Birmingham was Madison Park Boulevard, not Black Creek Road, so it wasn’t likely they’d been heading out of town that night. But they hadn’t called her parents or his to let them know they were in town and were planning to stay. And as far as anyone had ever been able to discover, they hadn’t booked a room at any of the handful of motels in the area, and the cops had gone as far away as Knoxville and Chattanooga to check. Apparently they’d planned to stick around that night.
But to do what?
She tried to picture herself behind the wheel of Donnie’s old truck, the one she’d been driving the night of the accident. She’d have been driving down this road, coming from the opposite direction. Instead of bright sunlight filtering through the trees overhead, there would have been little more than the pale glow of moonlight.
What had she seen? What had driven her off the road?
And what had any of it to do with Jim Allen?
Chapter Fifteen
Cain had turned thirty-six in June. He’d spent years in the Army, years out in the world, making his own way and being his own man.
So why the hell did he feel like a tongue-tied teenager when he thought about talking to Carl Dunkirk?
The fastest way to find out where Becky Allen worked, short of asking the woman herself, was to ask someone who knew her. And Carl Dunkirk knew everybody in Ridge County, probably better than they liked. He’d been a deputy for decades, working a job where knowing other people’s business was part of the job description.
But he’d also been one of Cain’s biggest detractors back when Renee Lindsey’s body had first shown up at the base of Crybaby Falls. He’d hounded Cain—much to the delight of Cain’s father—certain that Renee’s friendship with him had been her downfall.
Hell, maybe it would have been, eventually. Cain had never understood himself why she seemed so determined to hold on to their friendship. She had been the kind of girl who could have done big things in life if she’d wanted to.
Renee hadn’t needed someone like him holding her back, but whenever he’d tried to take a step away from her, she’d refused to let him go.
“You have something to say?” Carl’s deep voice drew Cain’s mind out of the past. He looked up to find Sara’s father watching him with wary eyes. Brad Ellis had gone to talk to Becky Allen, he saw, leaving Carl standing alone near the admitting desk.
Cain took a step closer, amused by how awkward he felt approaching the older man. He felt eighteen all over again, antsy and guilty, even though he’d done nothing wrong. Well, nothing but trying to get the man’s daughter into bed. And hoping he’d get a chance to try it again.
Though Sara’s sudden withdrawal had caught him flatfooted. Was she having second thoughts about following through on what they’d started the night before?
Taking care to hide his thoughts, he lowered his voice. “Do you know where Becky Allen works?”
The question seemed to catch Carl by surprise. His eyebrows lifted. “Why?”
“I noticed she’s wearing scrubs. Does she work at a hospital?”
“She works for Dr. Reed Clayton over in Barrowville.”
“Private practice?”
Carl nodded. “Only OB-GYN in the county.”
Cain released a long, slow breath. “Has she worked there long?”
“For years.” Carl’s gaze narrowed. “Why do you ask?”
“Was she working there eighteen years ago?”
Carl didn’t answer immediately, but Cain saw the wheels turning behind his dark eyes. “Yes,” he answered in a tone so grim it made Cain’s gut twist in a knot.
“Was Dr. Clayton Renee’s ob-gyn?”
Carl nodded slowly. “Probably Ariel Burke’s, too.”
“Someone should check on that.” Cain rubbed his hand over his jaw, turning his gaze toward Becky Allen, who was holding her son’s hand tightly as she quietly answered whatever questions Brad Ellis was asking.
“You think that’s how Jim Allen found out the girls were pregnant. You think he was the father of those babies.” Carl’s gravelly voice drew Cain’s gaze away from Becky’s tearstained face.
“Yes. We need that DNA sample.”
“I’ll talk to Ellis.”
A couple of men dressed in the dark-pants-and-white-shirt uniforms of the Ridge County EMS strode toward the door, their heads together in conversation. Brad Ellis rose from the waiting-area sofa and hurried to intercept them before they reached the exit.
When Carl crossed to join them at the door, Cain went with them. They reached the others just as Brad was asking, “Was he ever conscious at any point of the rescue?”
“Just briefly, right after we got there,” the taller of the two emergency medical technicians answered, his blue-eyed gaze flickering toward Cain briefly. His eyebrows notched upward, and Cain realized the EMT had been a classmate years earlier. One of Josh Partlow’s buddies on the football team, he thought. Couldn’t remember the name.
“Did he say anything at all?” Carl asked. If Brad Ellis minded the older man butt
ing in on the interrogation, he didn’t show it.
“Gotta say, it was pretty weird,” the shorter EMT admitted with a shake of his head. “Guy shot himself in the head. Those don’t usually turn out to be talkers. I guess he lucked out and aimed poorly. Small caliber, too—anything bigger and we’d have been waiting for the undertaker.”
“What did he say?” Cain asked. Both Carl and Brad Ellis shot him questioning looks, but he ignored them.
“He said, ‘She’s crazy. Don’t let her hurt her.’”
Brad Ellis looked puzzled, but Carl’s dark gaze met Cain’s. “She?”
“That’s it, but he said it twice,” the taller of the two men said. “Then he lost consciousness and we scooped and ran.”
“Thank you,” Ellis said quietly, looking at Carl. After the two EMTs left, he lowered his voice. “Do you know what this is about, Carl?”
Carl looked across the room at Becky Allen, his expression grim. “I’m afraid I’m beginning to.”
* * *
SARA HAD NO conscious memory of having been at the Allens’ house before, but a sense of déjà vu dogged her steps up the neat stone walkway into the pretty split-level brick-and-clapboard house in the middle of Alabaster Circle. Behind the house, a sprawling backyard ended at a fence about twenty yards from a shallow bluff that overlooked Warrior Creek.
Less than a mile down that creek, Sara knew, Warrior Creek spilled its rushing waters over Crybaby Falls.
So easy for Jim Allen to walk the mile along the creek bank to the falls, she thought. Renee Lindsey had loved Crybaby Falls, Cain had told her. She was a romantic, stirred by the notion of tragic love. Had she been the one to suggest Crybaby Falls as their secret meeting place?
What about Ariel Burke? Had Jim Allen remembered his secret trysts with Renee Lindsey at the falls and coaxed young, foolish Ariel to meet him there as well?
“Can we watch Scooby-Doo?” Jonah asked before they’d gotten through the front door.
Sara looked at Gracie, the older of the two. At eleven, she was on the cusp of adolescence and showed every sign of being as beautiful as her mother. She was also the more solemn of the two, the weight of tragedy darkening her soft green eyes as she met Sara’s questioning gaze. “It’s okay,” she said. “Mama lets him watch it all the time.”