“Emmy was right on one point. You have mixed her situation up with Lani’s. Your wife didn’t delve into the past to discover her ancestry, or because she wanted to be more than a case number on a state social service roll. Lani knew who she was—a pivotal member of a larger spiritual movement. The only unanswered question in her mind was why we couldn’t all see that her lifestyle was perfect. Therein lies the problem. Like many people with uncompromising beliefs, she lacked tolerance. Therein also lies the difference between Emmy’s quest and Lani’s.”
Riley ripped open the door without a word.
“You aren’t going to want to hear this, either. Everyone who knows and cares about you has kept quiet on the subject of Lani for too long. You haven’t told your daughter anything about her mother, have you? If you aren’t careful, one day Alanna will be in Emmy Monday’s shoes. You’d better ask yourself how you’ll handle her questions when she starts kindergarten and some wiseacre kid breaks the news that storks don’t deliver babies.”
“I’ve never told Alanna anything that stupid,” Riley objected. He was almost out the door and stopped cold. “She knows her mother died.”
“She doesn’t know she has aunts, uncles and two grandmothers.” Marge’s voice dropped to a gentle rebuke. “I’ve been to your home, Riley. Alanna’s room has every conceivable material thing a child could want—except a single picture of her mother. In fact, the house is stripped clean of Lani’s photos. She did exist, Riley.”
“Call Logan. Tell him if he asks Emmy so much as one question before I get there, I’ll cry foul play from here to the county seat.” Riley didn’t exactly rock the building’s foundation slamming the door, but the glass shuddered. And his hands were shaking, he discovered, when he tried to unlock his car door.
Dammit, he felt ganged up on. First Emmy, then Marge. Only . . . Marge was right. He came to the realization slowly, after he’d cooled down and managed to open his car door and climb inside. His experience with Lani was why he’d refused Emmy’s request. Bad memories, barely held in abeyance, affected everything he did.
The other day, Emmy had asked him why Alanna wasn’t in preschool. The bald-faced truth—he hadn’t been ready to field questions about his daughter’s mother. It was never enough to say a parent died. People wanted to know when and how. And kids would ask, Riley knew. He’d been young when his dad died in a needless war. That might be another reason he’d hated the circumstances surrounding Lani’s death. Both deaths were senseless. Both had died for a pointless cause.
Jeez, Marge packed a wallop like a sledgehammer when she took a notion to work a guy over.
“Well, hell,” he growled, backing out of his parking space. “I’d have saved both of us a lot of grief if I’d just said I’ve already decided I don’t want Emmy walking out of my life again.”
Thing was, Riley couldn’t quite reconcile the reservations he still had about the search Emmy wanted done. But searches sometimes took years, didn’t they? Whipping into the parking lot next to the jail, it dawned on him that maybe he could, in good conscience, promise to nose around for Emmy. Poll a few colleagues who had experience locating lost relatives. It wouldn’t hurt to compile their feedback and hand it over to her. With luck, considering how things had progressed between him and Emmy the other night, he might buy enough time to convince her she’d be better off canceling what would surely end up a disappointing wild-goose chase.
Riley thought he had a plausible-sounding plan put together by the time he strode into Logan Fielder’s waiting room and saw Kyle Masters in the process of dipping Emmy’s fingers in fingerprint ink. It was a messy, antiquated method not used in more modern jails.
“Kyle, what in Sam Hill are you doing? Stop. Now!” Riley flung his briefcase into a chair.
“Riley!” Emmy’s eyes widened almost as much as Kyle’s did.
The men engaged in a staring match. “Did this jerk mention you had the right to phone your attorney, Emmy?” Riley demanded.
“Yes, he did. I told him I don’t have a lawyer.”
Riley jammed one hand in his pocket, let his head drop to his chest and massaged the back of his neck with the hand that was free. “What the hell am I, cat food?”
“You refused my request.”
“I didn’t. Not this part of your request.” Riley glared at the deputy. “Call and ask Marge. Ms. Monday retained me. I want to know why you brought her in. What’s the charge?”
“Uh, trespassing, and unlawful entry of a marked crime scene, I guess.”
“You guess?” Riley turned to Emmy for verification.
She hunched both shoulders. “I followed a row of tape to the excavation site where Mom Fran was found. I didn’t touch anything at the site, I swear.”
A woman quietly reading a magazine in the waiting area outside the sheriff’s private office jumped up and pushed her way into the circle. “There’s not a lot left for anybody to touch.” Sounding peeved, she flipped a gold-red braid over her shoulder. “I’m Tessa Lang,” she said, introducing herself to Emmy. “I heard Deputy Masters tell the clerk that you’re Emerald Monday. I’m the one who discovered Frannie Granger’s remains. I know what she was to you. Please let me say how sorry I am, Ms. Monday.”
“Call me Emmy. You don’t look like my image of an archaeologist, Ms. Lang.”
“Tessa, please. Hello, Riley.” She slanted him an oblique smile. “Last time I saw you was at Gwyn’s wedding. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“I’ve been winding down a high-profile case. Why are you hanging out here?” He grinned. “Crazy Jake’s is a lot more fun.”
Emmy gazed from Tessa to Riley and back. She wondered what Riley’s relationship with the attractive archaeologist was or had been. It brought home to her, like nothing else had, the gap between her and Riley. Tessa Lang would not only appeal to a man like him because of her beauty, but also as a fellow professional. Jed’s wife and this woman were both gorgeous, congenial and they had interesting careers.
Emmy reflected on her own erratic work history. While never boring, most of her jobs were dead-end. She emerged from a cloud of dismay to hear Tessa’s reply to Riley’s question. “The jail’s become my home away from home. I check every few days, hoping Sheriff Fielder will lift the ban on my digging. I’m at risk of losing my grant. I wish to heaven I’d never found those bones.”
Riley and Kyle Masters both nodded sympathetically. Turning to Emmy, Riley said, “Tessa’s grant time is ticking away and Logan left her to twiddle her thumbs.”
Tessa sighed. “I had such high hopes. I researched a full year to find this site. It’s my dig from start to finish. I need a comprehensive report of results to complete my doctoral dissertation. So far, everything’s gone wrong.”
“That’s too bad,” Emmy murmured. She didn’t know squat about what it took to write a thesis, but she wanted Tessa Lang to finish her doctorate so she’d get out of Dodge, so to speak. At least, Emmy wanted her far away from Riley. She doubted that outside of the one Caddo Lake site, Uncertain, Texas represented a huge drawing card for archaeologists. Emmy assumed they preferred moldy jungles and Egyptian tombs.
Fielder poked his head out of his office. “What’s all the ruckus out here? Kyle, are you through processing Ms. Monday? Oh, you’re here,” he barked, scowling at Tessa. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a passel of times—nobody’s disturbing that site until I’m done with this investigation.”
“Grids have to be carefully maintained and the soil has to be sifted and brushed properly. Just let my crew do your search. I promise we’ll turn over every bit of evidence that doesn’t belong to the Caddo Indians.”
Fielder shook his shaggy head. “It seems you have your agenda and I have mine. The law says my active murder investigation takes precedence over whatever your twitty bunch of college kids wants to prove. Someone murdered
Frannie Granger within my jurisdiction. I aim to find out who. So stay the hell out of my way, Ms. Lang. I said I’d notify you when you can resume digging, and I will. Until then, beat it.”
Tessa clenched her fists. She marched out after a quick wave to the others.
Fielder swung round, leveling a glower at Riley. “Today must be my day to have half the folks in town telling me how I oughta do my job. I see you’re champing at the bit to add your ten cents’ worth, Gray.”
A harsh smile slashed Riley’s lips. “What I have to say is worth a whole lot more than ten cents, Logan. Tessa Lang has a point. Who better to hunt for evidence in and around a grave than a team trained to locate and preserve buried artifacts?”
Logan grunted.
“You were mad before you lit into Tessa. Who else has been rattling your cage?”
“Ray Jennings.” Fielder stiff-armed his office door open. “Get out here, Ray. You and the rest of the town council are so all-fired intent on jailing someone for Frannie’s murder. Come on out here and tell Riley what you witnessed. Ms. Monday’s got herself a lawyer, so we need to do this all legal-like.”
Ray Jennings took his time putting in an appearance. He walked out straightening a burgundy silk tie that perfectly contrasted his pearl-gray suit. “I only reported what any concerned citizen would, Logan. As I already explained twice, I was headed down Piney Loop Road, going home for lunch. I recognized Ms. Monday’s pickup parked off the road, right next to where you roped off the Caddo Lake shortcut with yellow tape. Riley’ll tell you I know her truck—we saw her drive away in it the day she came to my bank. Anyway, as soon as I noticed it, I turned around and drove straight back to town. How was I to know the girl had willfully trespassed? For all I knew, the same person who’d done in Frannie Granger had—well, you know.” He fluttered a hand toward Emmy.
“I ain’t saying you did wrong, Ray.” Fielder paced around the banker. “Let me get this straight, because from your earlier babbling, I assumed you saw Emmy Monday actually poking around the grave.”
“I didn’t poke anything,” Emmy protested.
“Hush,” Logan and Riley ordered in unison.
Jennings cleared his throat. He smoothed a thumb and finger over his mustache. “Did I say I saw her? I thought all I verified was that it was her vehicle. Maybe Kyle said she’d been poking into the grave when he radioed in.”
Now it was the deputy’s turn to stutter. “I—I mighta used poking in the generic sense. You know, Sheriff, like . . . when I caught Leon Hamilton poking around Mrs. Baker’s henhouse where he didn’t belong. That didn’t mean I saw Leon steal chickens.”
Logan Fielder blew out an exasperated breath. “What in tarnation do Leon or Mrs. Baker’s chickens have to do with this case? Did you or did you not catch Ms. Monday contaminating our crime scene?”
“Well, she’d been in there,” Masters insisted. “‘Cause she stepped back across the tape just as I drove onto the site.”
Riley propped his hip on a desk. “So you searched her because you had probable cause to think she’d stolen something from the scene?”
“I didn’t search her.” The young deputy’s face flamed poppy-red.
“Ah. I see. You’re telling us there’s no tangible evidence that Ms. Monday did anything more than stand and look at the landscape, just as she described in her statement.”
Having obtained a copy of Emmy’s original statement from the recording clerk on the way in, Riley pulled it out of his briefcase and scanned the text again.
The other three men in the room glanced at each other, all of them ultimately lowering their eyes to avoid Riley’s stare.
“In the absence of physical evidence, it seems to me all you have is a case of my client’s word against Kyle’s. “
The deputy hunched his shoulders unhappily, while Fielder allowed as how Riley might be correct in his assumption.
“Good.” Riley broke into a grin. “Then I guess none of you will object if Emmy goes to the ladies’ room to wash off that fingerprint ink.”
Three disgruntled men stared after Riley, who escorted Emmy to the door and pointed her down a brightly lit hallway. He rejoined the men in time to hear Ray demanding of Fielder, “You’re letting the girl walk, Logan? If she’s not up to something shady, why was she nosing around out there?”
“Last I heard Uncertain’s still part of a free country, Ray,” Riley said in mild tones. “Fran was the closest thing Emmy had to a mom. The property belongs to her foster brother. Maybe Logan should ask why you’re pressing to have her locked up. If you’ve got proof Emmy’s involved in the murder, cough it up.”
“I told you my only interest is as a concerned citizen. Well, also as a member of the town council. Last night at our meeting, Mayor Babcock pointed out how focused the whole town is on this murder. It’ll hurt our upcoming tourist trade. Logan needs to arrest and convict someone, so our town can get back on track. Unsolved murders attract the tabloids. Reporters have already booked into Alligator Bayou B-and-B. We don’t want Uncertain making those kinds of headlines.”
Riley crossed his arms. “Ray, did you ever think how much worse our publicity will be if we go on record as a town that badgers innocent women or tosses them indiscriminately into jail?”
The sheriff squinted at both of them. “That’s a fact. So, Ray, next time you bring me an eyewitness complaint, first make sure you’re dealing with the real McCoy.”
Ray drew himself up and buttoned his suit jacket over his slight paunch. “I missed lunch with Catherine to perform a civic duty. You’ve got no call to lecture me, Logan. Anyway, you said you were planning to question the Monday girl.”
“So I am,” agreed Fielder as they watched the banker leave in a righteous huff. “We can do it now, Riley, which would suit me. Or book it for later this week.” Logan went into his office for a moment and returned with a calendar. “I’ve never met a lawyer yet who didn’t stall for all the time he could get.”
“There’s where you’re wrong, Logan. Emmy talked to me yesterday. You’ll be happy to know she wants to cooperate fully, even after I advised her that she didn’t have to talk to you without a subpoena. As soon as she’s back from the ladies’ room, we can sit down and have a friendly chat.”
“You’re all heart, Gray. I assume you’ve coached her on what not to say.”
Riley smiled secretively as Logan sighed and went back to his office. He hadn’t coached Emmy, of course. But there was no sense letting his opponent know that.
“What next?” Emmy asked Riley as she emerged from the ladies room. She sensed the lingering tension, even though the banker, the sheriff and his deputy had all disappeared from the waiting room.
“Are you up to answering some questions now?” Riley slid his hand down Emmy’s back, settling a warm palm at her waist. “Remember, you can still beg off.”
“I’m cleared of the trespassing charge?”
“It wasn’t really a charge. So, the answer is yes.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Thank you, Riley. Have you really decided to represent me?”
“Say the word, and I’ll go tell Logan we’re ready.”
“Okay. But I’m a little nervous.”
Riley smiled into her eyes. “Relax. Do you want to recheck the diary you left with Marge? I have the copy in my briefcase.”
“I’m okay on those points. It’s whatever else he might toss at me . . .”
“Just shake your head if he throws you a curve. I’ll suggest he skip that question and go on.”
“Won’t that make me look evasive or guilty?”
“Questioning a witness is all a game, sugar babe. You’re allowed to pick up your chips and cash out at any time.”
“I know you said that before. By the way, thanks for changing your mind. I know I made you really angry th
is morning.”
Riley guided her toward Logan’s office. He stopped outside the closed door. “Marge gave me what-for after we heard Logan had you brought in today. I guess you could say that you and Marge are pretty convincing. I’ve rethought things. When we finish here, I’ll go back to the office and put out feelers to colleagues who’ve done birth parent searches. I can’t promise you’ll find your family, Emmy, but I’ll find out what you need to start the process.”
“You will? Riley, I don’t know what to say.” Tears sparkled in her green eyes. “I feel a hundred-percent better already.”
“Now don’t get too excited,” he warned, knocking harder than he’d intended on Logan Fielder’s door.
Emmy rose on her tiptoes and aimed a kiss at Riley’s cheek just as Fielder opened the door. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Riley turned into the kiss and met Emmy’s lips head-on. They both felt the sparks ignite.
“Ahem.” The craggy old lawman shifted uneasily. “Ray said I should be alert to hanky panky if I’m dealing with Frannie’s bunch of mavericks. Riley, I’ll be on the lookout for conflicts of interest in this case. And let me remind you—we’re conducting a murder investigation, not playing post office out behind the boy’s gym.”
Emmy blushed to her earlobes, but Riley only chuckled. “Since kissing in public isn’t a crime, Logan, confine your questions and remarks to the case. And hurry it up. I’m taking my client to lunch at Catfish Corner.”
“You are?” Emmy wheeled in surprise. “We can’t.” She shook her head. “I promised Alanna she could come over this afternoon and play with my kitten. I won’t disappoint her.”
Warmth and pleasure burst in Riley’s chest. “Tell you what. Marge owes me big time for—well, she just does. We’ll make it an early dinner instead. I’ll phone her when we’re done here and ask if she’ll take Alanna out for pizza.”
Fielder opened the door wider. “If it’s not too much trouble? I mean, if I’m not interrupting your social schedules, could we get on with this interview?”
Uncertain Past Page 13