“Maybe he doesn’t have anything to report,” Nick replied.
“He should have at least checked out some alibis by now.” They halted at the foot of the porch.
“Like whose?” Nick asked curiously.
Adam frowned thoughtfully. “Melanie gave him a couple of names of people she was seeing years ago, before she left town. Denver Walton, Jim Collins and Billy Vickers were three people he should have checked out.”
“Those are surely dead ends. Denver was probably in bed with Maddy, Jim was on duty and Billy Vickers was probably sleeping with his new wife.” It was Nick’s turn to frown. “You know, now that I think about it, Billy Vickers’s wife looks a lot like Melanie. She’s got the same blond hair and pretty features.”
Adam thought about Linda Vickers, née Cochran. She did bear a close resemblance to Melanie, but did that mean anything? She and Billy had married about six months before and appeared to be deliriously happy together.
Adam had a feeling there was nothing to report because there wasn’t a real, viable trail to follow. It seemed crazy to consider that somebody from ten years ago might have a personal beef with Melanie. It was more likely she’d been attacked by the serial killer who had murdered the two women in town, and so far Cameron had no clues to point to the identity of that person.
“I heard you talked to Sam,” Nick said. “He called me just after he spoke to you.”
Adam nodded, thinking of the early morning call he’d gotten while Melanie was still in bed, asleep. “I think he was shocked when I actually answered his call.”
“How did it go?”
Adam thought of the brief conversation he’d had with his eldest brother. “Fine, I guess. He seemed happy to talk to me but there’s no question he’s still ill. He was fine for a few minutes and then began a rant on how it wasn’t fair that anyone was happy when he was so miserable, that he wanted to hurt all the happy people in the world. He’s a different man. The Sam, the brother I knew and loved, is gone.”
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “I know, but maybe once his trial is over, somebody will see to it that he gets some treatment. He’ll never be the same, but maybe some medication or therapy will help him find some peace inside himself.”
Adam nodded and fought off a wave of discouragement as they reentered the house. His heart instantly lifted as he heard the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen.
Nick and Adam entered that room to find Courtney and Melanie seated at the table and Garrett in Melanie’s lap, both his mouth and Melanie’s smeared with the icing from a piece of chocolate cake.
He’d take a bite and then turn to feed Melanie a bite. “Melly cake,” he said proudly to the two men.
Melanie laughed and quickly grabbed a napkin. She wiped her face and then Garrett’s. “He won’t let me feed myself.”
“He’s taken quite a shine to Melanie!” Courtney exclaimed.
“I think it’s the wheels. You know how men are when it comes to a good set of wheels,” Melanie replied with another laugh.
Garrett nodded, as if he understood exactly what she was talking about, and everyone laughed. It was a great way to end their time together and within another half an hour Melanie and Adam were back in his truck and headed home.
Adam’s heart was filled with the vision of Garrett and Melanie together. He had watched her interact with the little boy and had envisioned her with his child. She would be beautiful pregnant and would make such a loving mother.
“You were good with Garrett,” he said as they pulled onto the road that would lead them back to Main Street.
“He’s a real cutie.”
“I think you’d make a terrific mom.” He shot her a quick glance and caught a look of grief that stole across her features in a flash and then disappeared.
“It’s just not in the cards for me,” she replied, her voice calm despite what he had just seen on her face.
“But you could have children if you wanted to.” He wasn’t sure why he was pressing the issue.
“Physically yes, I’m capable of having children, but I decided a long time ago that motherhood wasn’t for me, and going into a wheelchair certainly hasn’t changed my mind.”
“Too bad,” Adam said.
“Yeah, too bad for me.”
He glanced at her again and then back at the road. “No, I was thinking too bad for the children who will miss out on being loved by you.”
She turned her head and stared out the window and didn’t speak again until they pulled up in front of the house. “I guess the security system has been installed?” she asked as he lifted her from the passenger seat and placed her in her wheelchair.
“The code is my birthday.” He smiled. “I didn’t know yours, so I figured I’d tell them to make it mine.” He gave her the numbers as he pushed her up the ramp to the front door. “Every door and window is covered, so nobody will be sneaking into the house again without us knowing about it.”
“I’ll definitely sleep easier at night.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open and instantly a warning beep sounded. The control panel was set in the foyer and she wheeled over to it and punched in the number to turn the system off.
Adam showed her how to reset it. “It should be activated at all times. A security system works only if it’s on.”
“Got it,” she replied.
They talked about going to the café for dinner but decided to just stay in. They had a quiet dinner and it was later in the evening when Adam came downstairs for a can of soda and found her seated at the table, a sketch pad in front of her.
“What are you working on?” he asked curiously, suddenly aware of the utter silence of the house around them.
“Silliness,” she replied.
“What kind of silliness?” He grabbed a soda from the fridge and joined her at the table.
She had her hand splayed across the page, as if to hide whatever it was that was on it. She hesitated a moment and then moved her hand aside.
He looked with interest at the drawing of some sort of frilly thing on the page. “What is it?” he asked curiously.
“A dance costume.” She felt the warmth of a blush color her cheeks. “I’ve been sketching them since I first started to dance. These are my fantasy costumes, the ones I would have used for recitals if I was going to have a dance studio of my own.”
“May I?” He gestured toward the sketch pad.
Once again she hesitated. It was like showing him a piece of her dreams, a personal part of herself she’d never shown anyone else. Not even Tilly or her mother had seen all the sketches she’d done over the years. With a tremulous breath she shoved the thick book toward him and held her breath as he began to turn the pages.
“I’m not a dancer, but these look incredibly creative,” he finally said.
Once again her cheeks warmed, this time with pleasure. “I see them in my mind and I know exactly what kind of material each is made of, where to place the specialty decorations and still keep the costume light and moveable.”
He pushed the sketch pad back in front of her, his eyes lit with a shine that for some reason shot a tiny wave of excitement through her. “Does Tilly know how to sew?” he asked.
“Sure, and so do I. I learned in sixth grade from my mother. We made lots of my costumes when I was assigned solo dances.”
“Maybe this is your future, Melanie.” He leaned forward across the table, his eyes warm and filled with a simmering anticipation. “You could put up a website. You have all the credentials you need, and with your sewing skills you could probably make a fortune selling these things to dancers around the country.”
For a moment the hope that sparked in his eyes also heated her heart. Was this what she was supposed to do? Certainly she had spent years drawing the kinds of costumes she’d want to wear as a dancer. While her sewing skills might be rusty, she was sure that spending a little time with a sewing machine would sharpen those skills once again.
The hope la
sted for only a moment and then the taste of failure filled her mouth. “Adam, it would be a nice plan, but it’s not something I can do right now.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I could see by the way your eyes just lit up that you were excited. What’s standing in your way?” She didn’t reply, but it was as if he could suddenly see inside her head. “I’ll back you, Melanie. I’ll provide the seed money you’d need to get started.”
“I could never ask you to do that,” she protested as she closed the sketch pad.
“You didn’t ask, I offered. Besides, it would be a business deal and I’d expect you to pay me back once you became profitable.”
Melanie felt the burn of tears in her eyes as hope once again buoyed up inside her. Could she really do this? Could she build a financial future for herself based on a book full of drawings and her knowledge as a dancer? The answer was yes. She believed in her heart, in her very soul, that this could work.
“I think maybe you just gave me a new dream,” she finally said.
“Then while I’m on your good side, I’d like to ask you a question,” he said.
“What’s that?” she asked, her heart lighter than it had felt in months.
“Why don’t you allow any music in your life?”
She leaned back in her chair and gazed at him thoughtfully, wondering if there was any way she could make him understand what music did to her.
“I feel it in my heart, in the very depths of my soul,” she began. “I’ve never been able to understand how people can listen to music and not move, not at least tap their feet or drum their fingers on a tabletop to the rhythm. When I hear it, it sings in my veins, making it impossible for me to sit still. And now, since I can’t dance, the sound of music is just torture to me.”
The mourning that swept through her was like what she might have felt for an old friend who’d passed away several years ago. She recognized at that moment that she was moving into an acceptance stage, which she hoped would eventually become a complete healing.
“Music should never be torture,” Adam protested. He frowned thoughtfully. “We definitely need to do something to change that.”
Before she could guess his intent, he got up and grabbed the handles of her wheelchair. “What...what are you doing?” she asked as he wheeled her into the living room.
He stopped when they reached the middle of the room. He walked around in front of her and crouched down so that they were eye to eye. “Do you trust me, Melanie?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. Somehow, someway in the last couple of weeks she’d come to trust Adam as she hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time, but as he walked over to the stereo system on the shelving unit against one wall, she tensed.
“Adam, please...don’t.”
He turned back to look at her once again. “Do you trust me, Melanie?” he asked again.
She knew what he was about to do and her heart hammered an unsteady beat. It was going to hurt. He was going to force her to listen to music in some misguided effort to help her. Yet even knowing that this was going to be a form of exquisite torture, she nodded once again to answer his question.
She knew the radio was tuned to a classical station, and when he punched the on button, the strains of Tchaikovsky filled the room.
Her heart swelled with the familiar music and the beats resounded in the blood that flowed through her veins. She wanted to rise up from her chair and whirl around the room. She wanted to lose herself in the very magic of dance. Instead she tightened her hands on her wheelchair armrests and fought back a wave of tears.
Once again Adam crouched down in front of her. “You can still dance, Melanie,” he said softly. “You can move your arms. You can move your body to the rhythm while you sit in that chair. You can close your eyes and dance all you want in your mind, or you can dance with me.”
Before she recognized his intent, he scooped her up into his arms. “I’ve got you, Melanie. Now dance for me.”
At first she wasn’t sure what he meant. How could she dance while she was held in his arms? What was he doing to her? Why was he doing this to her?
She closed her eyes against new hot tears, but as the music continued to play and her heart opened to it, allowed it inside her, she instinctively raised her arms over her head and began to sway and dance to the music.
She arched her back, arms still thrown over her head, and trusted that Adam would keep her safe, as she’d trusted so many other male dance partners over the years.
Lost, she became lost in movement and rhythm, and although she couldn’t really dance with her bad leg and foot, every other part of her body interpreted the music with joy.
She didn’t imagine that she was onstage. She was content knowing that she was in Adam’s arms, dancing with him. She no longer needed the stage lights to make her feel special. He made her feel special.
It was only when the song ended that she opened her eyes and released a tremulous sigh of happiness.
“That was beautiful,” Adam said hoarsely as he tightened his grip on her.
She stared at him, this handsome cowboy who had invaded her house, invaded her life. The man who had restored her laughter, had shown her that she could still have a life and, most importantly of all, had brought back her music and her dance. Certainly those things weren’t the same, would never be the same again. But Adam had shown her that she could have some of it back, that she could still enjoy it.
It was at that moment she realized that despite her every intention to the contrary, she was in love with Adam Benson. It was also at that moment that his cell phone rang.
He carefully deposited her back into her wheelchair and then dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He looked at the caller identification and then at her.
“It’s Cameron,” he said and just that quickly the magic of dance, the wonder of Adam disappeared as she thought of the man who had crept into her room in the middle of the night, the man who apparently wanted her dead.
Chapter 13
Cameron sat across the table from Adam and Melanie, his features giving them all the answers they needed. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing for them. It was evident in the defeat that darkened his eyes, in the exhaustion that wearied his features. Adam fought the bitterness of disappointment, which threatened to crawl up the back of his throat.
“Since last night we’ve focused our investigation mainly on the possibility that the attack on you might have been a personal one and not tied to the other two murders,” Cameron said to them.
Adam nodded. He understood that it would be easier to approach the investigation that way initially to rule out any of the people who might have a personal beef against Melanie. “So what have you got so far?”
“At the time of the attack Billy Vickers was in bed with his wife. Of course she confirmed it. He appeared genuinely surprised to find out that you were back here in town. He said he’d just assumed after your mother’s death you’d gone back to New York City.”
“So he’s off the suspect list,” Melanie said.
“Not quite. While I was speaking with Billy and Linda in the living room, Deputy Temple asked to use the restroom, where he did a little snooping in the medicine cabinet and discovered a prescription bottle for some fairly heavy-duty sleeping pills for Linda.”
“Then it’s possible Billy slipped his wife a pill before bedtime and she wouldn’t have known for sure if he left their bedroom in the middle of the night or not,” Adam said.
Cameron nodded. “Exactly.”
“But I haven’t even seen Billy since I left here for New York years ago,” Melanie said.
Adam frowned. “I think he and his wife might have been at the Cowboy Café the night we went.”
“He didn’t stop by the table to say hello or anything,” Melanie replied. “I didn’t notice him there.”
“If he was with his wife, then he probably wouldn’t have stopped by to say hello to an old girlfriend.” Adam shrugged.
“We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. We just dated a couple of times, that’s all,” Melanie said, as if needing to explain her relationship with Billy.
“In any case, Denver Walton and Maddy were together at the Corral until well after midnight and there were plenty of witnesses to corroborate their story.”
The Corral was a hot spot for drinking and dancing at the edge of town. For a couple of months after Sam’s arrest Adam had spent more than his share of time there, doing very little dancing but a lot of drinking.
“And of course, Jim Collins was on duty,” Cameron continued, “which brings us to Craig Jenkins. I’ve been unable to locate him to check out his alibi. He hasn’t been home all day and I was finally able to contact his secretary this afternoon and she told me he left yesterday morning to go out of town.”
“Out of town where?” Melanie asked.
“She didn’t know. He’s supposed to be back in a couple of days and hopefully we’ll get some answers from him then.”
Adam frowned. He didn’t like loose ends and Craig Jenkins was definitely a loose end at this point in time. As far as Adam was concerned, Craig had the most to gain by Melanie’s death. How simple it would be to kill her and make it look like the work of the serial killer.
“Kevin Naperson was at home with his parents last night. Of course, they probably wouldn’t have known if he’d sneaked out of his room in the middle of the night, so he’s not been crossed off the list.” Cameron looked at Melanie. “Have you thought of anyone else you think we should check out?”
She sighed and shook her head. “No, and trust me, I’ve racked my brain. The only reason why this attack felt personal was that he knew my name, but he could know my name and still be the serial killer working here in town.”
“I know,” Cameron replied curtly.
“If it is the same person who killed Shirley and Candy, have you been able to figure out at all why he’s killing these women? What motivates him?” Adam asked.
Cameron raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “We know the murders don’t appear to be sexually motivated. The victims aren’t molested and there are no elements that would point to a sexual motivation.”
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