Silent Witness

by Diane Burke

  The house was quiet. The hall light upstairs was on and she saw another light coming from the downstairs study. When she reached the library door, she saw Adam sitting in one of the leather high-backed chairs beside an unlit fireplace.

  Her eyes glanced over the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. She imagined that on a cold winter night it would seem like a slice of heaven to curl up here and read a book by a roaring fire. But tomorrow was Labor Day, the hot, humid days of August barely passed, and she was surprised to find him here. But then again, Adam was filled with surprises.

  “Hi. How’d it go?” Adam closed the book he’d been reading and gave her his full attention. “Did you catch the bad guy?”

  She threw herself into the leather chair opposite him. “I caught a bad guy but I’m still not sure that it’s our bad guy. Not enough evidence to hold him but we’re keeping a close eye on him. He’s high on our suspect list. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  “No problem. Paul did a fine job keeping an eye on things. He even baked cupcakes with Jeremy for our picnic tomorrow.”

  “Picnic? What picnic?”

  “It’s Labor Day. I’m having a barbecue.”

  “No, you’re not. That will be a security nightmare. Whatever made you think you could have a barbecue—particularly without asking me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He crossed the room and playfully tapped the end of her nose. “Maybe because the barbecue is for all the law enforcement officers who have been laboring to keep us safe. Some of Davenport’s men have accepted the invitation. But, mostly, it will be your team and the four of us. And, yes, I told them big, bulky flowered shirts over uniforms are a must.”

  Liz smiled and nodded her approval. “So, where is everyone? The house is pretty quiet.”

  “I just put Jeremy to bed a few minutes ago. He should be asleep by now. The last time I looked, Rerun was sprawled out across him.”

  “Ouch. Isn’t the dog a little heavy to be on top of a five-year-old?”

  Adam laughed. “Not for Jeremy. Remember, he responds to deep pressure not light touch.”

  Liz smiled. “Yeah, I guess Rerun is acting like a living, breathing swaddling blanket. Good dog.” Liz glanced over her shoulder. “Speaking of good dog, where’s his trainer? I haven’t seen Charlie anywhere.”

  “After you left, I gave her the afternoon off. She drove into St. Louis for some retail therapy and said something about trying to squeeze in dinner and a movie.”

  Liz’s breath took a hiccup. They were alone in the house. For the first time in fifteen years, it would be just the two of them. She didn’t know how she felt about this unexpected turn of events. She just knew that her pulse quickened and her heart definitely skipped every third beat.

  “You look tired.” The deep timbre of his voice slid over her nerve endings and made every one of them stand up and take notice.

  “I am.” She tried to remain calm and not let him see how the thought of a solitary evening together was affecting her.

  “I bet you didn’t take the time to grab yourself anything to eat, did you?”

  “I’ll be fine. Go back to your book. I’ll slip into the kitchen and fix myself a sandwich and then I’ve got some reports to look over. Sergeant Davenport’s man should be here at eleven to take over the night shift.”

  Liz made a hasty exit to the kitchen. She barely made it to the refrigerator before she heard Adam’s voice behind her.

  “There’s a dish for you in the microwave. I’ll fix you a salad to go with it.”

  They were alone in the house. He’d kept dinner for her. This was stuff she’d thrown around in her mind about a thousand times when she’d played her what-if games. What if Adam had never left? What if they’d gotten married like they used to talk about? What if they had a quiet little house in the woods with their own child asleep upstairs? What if memories weren’t painful and dreams did come true?

  Her eyes burned and her hand clasping the door handle trembled. She stared at the covered plate as if it were a snake poised to strike.

  How could this be happening to her? She didn’t want a relationship, didn’t need a relationship. She liked her life just the way it was. Why didn’t he just go away before he messed things up—again.

  Adam’s hands clasped her shoulders. “Here, let me get it for you. You’ve been burning a candle at both ends. It won’t hurt to take a breather.” He steered her toward the kitchen counter.

  Liz perched on a stool and watched him go to work. Within minutes, he’d set a place mat and utensils in front of her, made a salad and poured her a tall glass of iced tea. At the ding from the microwave, he donned an oven mitt and with exaggerated flourish whisked the plate in front of her.

  “Voilà. An Adam Morgan specialty. Enjoy.” Adam lifted the lid and waved the aroma of hot, steamy beef and noodles her way.

  Liz almost salivated like Pavlov’s dog and her stomach growled on cue.

  Adam sat on a stool opposite her. He propped his elbows on the counter, held his head in his hands and had the silliest grin on his face, obviously in anticipation of the glowing accolades he expected to come his way.

  Liz nibbled a small bite. As much as she didn’t want to pump up his ego with exclamations about his genius in the kitchen, the second bite did her in. This was absolutely delicious.

  “This is good.”

  “‘Good’?” He waggled his eyebrows and waited for her to lavish more praise.

  Liz laughed. “Okay, this is delicious. This is the most tender, moist beef I have ever tasted. Happy now?”

  “Absolutely.” He poured himself a glass of iced tea. “Just wait until you taste my beef, shrimp and chicken kebabs on the grill tomorrow. My special marinating sauce is so good I should patent it. Now go ahead. Eat.”

  He sat across from her and grinned ear to ear.

  “What? Are you going to sit there and stare at me eating?”

  Adam chuckled. “No. I’m going to sit here and keep you company while you’re eating. Maybe have some adult conversation since I’ve been cooped up in the house with a five-year-old all day.”

  Liz swallowed slowly, trying to savor every bite. “‘Adult conversation’? What? Didn’t Paul fit that bill?”

  Adam lifted his glass and gave her a mock salute. “Touché. But Paul kept himself pretty busy walking the perimeter of the house until a moat started to form.”

  Liz almost spit out her mouthful of iced tea as she suppressed a laugh.

  “It wasn’t until I found out he loves baking that I was able to encourage him to come inside. Besides…” Adam’s voice deepened and he caught her gaze with his. “He isn’t as pretty to look at as you are.”

  The blood raced to her face and Liz felt the heated flush of her skin. Her stomach fluttered and her pulse thumped like a racehorse in the final stretch. It took her a moment to respond and when she did she tried to put things back on an even keel.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls. You need to work on that, Adam. Your cooking is fabulous. Your pickup lines, not so good.” She stood up. “Thanks so much for saving dinner for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to work on those reports.”

  She reached out for her empty plate.

  His hand captured her wrist. He smiled up at her and her heart flip-flopped in her chest. His eyes were intense and endearing.

  “You’ve been working all day. Don’t you think you deserve a little downtime?” Ever so softly he rubbed the tender skin of her wrist with his thumb.

  A comfortable tension, an undercurrent of awareness, filled the air between them. It would be so easy to relax and see where the evening led. But she couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes again. She had to keep her guard up with Adam, even though it was getting harder and harder to do so.

  “You can’t run away forever, Lizzie. Sooner or later we are going to have to talk.”

  “We have nothing to talk about, Adam. What happened to us happened too many years ago to bother with. I’ve move
d on and I’m sure you have to.”

  With his other hand, he reached up and gently stroked her cheek.

  “I still have feelings for you, Lizzie. And I’m hoping you have feelings for me, too…just buried.”

  The breath caught in her throat. What? Were there no telephones in his world? No post offices? No homing pigeons? No skywriting? No way in existence to communicate with her at any time over the past fifteen years and apologize for shattering her world into a million pieces?

  How many times had she wanted to hear him say that she mattered? How many months after he’d left had she lain awake at night and prayed it was all a bad dream?

  Now he sat in this kitchen and told her that he had unresolved feelings for her?

  Instead of angering her, it just made her feel sad.

  “I hurt you,” Adam said, his voice filled with regret. “I know that and I’m so, so sorry.”

  She eased her wrist from his grasp.

  “Thank you for your apology, Adam. I appreciate it. I do. But an apology doesn’t turn back the clock and make everything okay. You of all people should know that.”

  “You’re still holding on to your anger? You can’t find it in yourself to forgive me and give me a second chance?”

  “I forgave you long ago, Adam. I continue to forgive you, and anyone else who ever wronged me, every morning when I recite the Lord’s Prayer.”

  Hope flashed in his eyes.

  “But I’m not interested in exploring a relationship with you.”

  She saw his disappointment and it tugged at her heart.

  “This has nothing to do with our past. This is all about the present. I like my life. I’m good at what I do and I’m happy doing it.”

  “What does that have to do with spending time together? Getting to know one another again and seeing if there’s anything there worth rekindling?”

  “Because I’m married, Adam—to my job. And I like it that way.”

  She smiled into his eyes and found herself wishing that things could be different. But they couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

  “I’m not giving up.” He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Just saying…”

  “Good night, Adam. Thanks for the dinner.” She felt his eyes on her back as she walked away.

  EIGHT

  Liz sat at the head of the dining room table. “Thank you, gentlemen, for meeting with me here. I realize this isn’t easy for any of you.”

  “Where’s the boy?” Tom Miller looked over his shoulder. “I don’t want him to come in and see me dressed in my uniform and freak out. I’m not coming to your barbecue. I’m on duty today and didn’t want to have to drive all the way home to change.”

  Liz smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Dr. Morgan and Charlie are working with him in the backyard. You’ll be gone long before he’s scheduled to come back inside.”

  “He has a schedule for when he can come in and out of the house?” Sergeant Davenport shifted his weight in his chair. “Does it work? My wife and I could barely keep our kids out of juvenile hall let alone worry about how often they came in and out of the house.”

  “I still think the best thing for everyone, including the kid, would have been to put him in the witness protection program and ship him off somewhere.” Sal folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to argue with him.

  Liz smiled, chose to ignore his remark and answered Davenport. “Autistic children thrive best with behavior modification and a daily structured schedule. Jeremy responds well to structure. This is his exercise time. He won’t be coming in for at least an hour. So, let’s get started, shall we?”

  Sergeant Davenport spoke first. “We’ve exhausted any leads we had regarding the Hendersons’ life before they moved here. They lived a squeaky-clean middle-class existence. Worked hard. Seemed to have a solid family life. Didn’t draw any unnecessary attention to themselves. Certainly not enough to have someone follow them here and execute them.”

  “How about you, Tom? Anything?”

  “Which investigation you asking about, Sheriff? The drug dealer found behind Smitty’s bar? The Henderson homicides? The car explosion?”

  Liz shook her head and chuckled. “Okay, Tom, I hear you. Overworked and underpaid. I get it. If you have any information for the team on anything, we’d like to hear it.”

  “Yeah, well, I suffered through a couple of afternoon teas with the local gossips and it wasn’t easy, I’m telling you.”

  Snickers were heard from the other men at the table, but no one interrupted.

  “Heard that there was some bad blood between Henderson and the Third National Bank manager.”

  Liz twirled her pen in her fingers and chewed her bottom lip. This was definitely news to her. “What kind of bad blood?”

  “Don’t know for sure. That’s the trouble with gossip. Gossip ain’t accurate. But it seems that one of the tellers went around town telling tales of a loud argument Henderson had with the bank manager a few days before he was killed. The teller seems to think the bank manager and one of the other tellers was having an affair.”

  “Okay. Even if that were true, what would it have to do with Dave?”

  Tom shrugged. “Everybody knows that the bank manager, Joe Grimes, is married. Rumor has it that the wife was a good friend of Henderson’s wife. The word on the street is that Henderson told Grimes to end the affair or he’d spill the beans to Grimes’s wife. According to the teller, Grimes was pretty burned up about it. Walked around the bank grumbling under his breath like a bear with a sore paw.”

  Sal spoke up. “Dirty thing, cheating on your spouse. Looks like Grimes is living up to his name.” Chuckles and grimaces at the bad pun circled the table. “I get it. To a man of Henderson’s religious beliefs, cheating on your wife is a no-no. But even if Henderson spilled the beans to the wife, in this day and age, I don’t see that as a strong enough motive for Grimes to kill him.”

  “Maybe it isn’t about the affair at all.” Paul leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Dave Henderson worked on computers, right? He worked on our computers the week before he died. Maybe he worked on the bank’s computers, too. Maybe he saw somebody messing with the books or something.”

  “Wow, it’s looking like this Joe Grimes might really be a suspect.” Darlene made eye contact with Liz. “He was either cooking the books or cheating on his wife or maybe both, but either way he had big secrets he didn’t want anyone to find out. But was it worth killing for?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Tom shrugged. “Grimes married into money. Huge money. Anybody ever hear about something called a prenup? Mrs. Grimes set up an ironclad one of those doohickeys. If Mr. Grimes was found fooling around, Mrs. Grimes wouldn’t just kick him to the curb— She’d make sure he didn’t have a penny in his pocket when she did.”

  Sal whistled. “That changes things. It gives Grimes at least twenty million reasons to want to keep Dave Henderson quiet, doesn’t it?”

  “Good work, Tom. Invite Mr. Grimes and his infamous teller to the station for a conversation. Sal, why don’t you take a shot at both interviews?” Liz looked around the table. “Anyone have anything else?”

  Sal spoke up. “I found out the names of two disgruntled employees that Henderson fired for one reason or another. That’s worth looking into.”

  Liz nodded in agreement. “That it?” When no one commented, she stood.

  “Okay, guys, that’s it for today. Thanks again for driving out here. And thanks for not wearing uniforms. Unless something new develops, tomorrow we’ll do a phone conference but for now I hear there’s a pretty good barbecue starting in the backyard.”

  “I baked three dozen cupcakes. Be sure to try them.” Paul beamed.

  “Wuss.”

  Although it was an under-his-breath mutter, Liz still heard Tom. She stopped behind his chair and leaned down so only he could hear her speak. “I won’t tolerate bullying in my department, Tom. Have I made myself clear?”

  “I’m n
ot bullying nobody. But a deputy baking cupcakes for a picnic? Your father would turn over in his grave.”

  “The majority of the great chefs and bakers in this world are men, Tom. How about if you get back to work and leave that lousy attitude at home.”

  Tom pushed away from the table and stormed out.

  Liz followed the men to the back door but stopped Sal before he could go outside.

  “Sal, something doesn’t feel right to me. Those drugs we found under the mattress. Were they Dave’s? Possible, yes. Probable, not really. I just don’t buy it.”

  “Not all Christians are the good people they’re supposed to be, boss.”

  “I realize that. People remain human even after they’re saved and they can slip back into old ways and make mistakes.”

  Sal waited for her to make her point.

  “But Sergeant Davenport didn’t turn up even a sniff of illegal activity or drug use in the years before Henderson moved to Country Corners. Have you been able to tie Dave to any of the suspected drug dealers in town? Have you gone over his phone records with a fine-tooth comb? Any video surveillance outside the bars or anywhere else downtown that might have shown Dave meeting someone he shouldn’t?”

  “Darlene and Paul are going over the camera footage. But there’s not much of it, boss. After all, this is Country Corners, not New York or even St. Louis. Not too many surveillance cameras to pull from.”

  “I understand.” She continued to chew on her lower lip. “You know, Paul made a valid point. Dave had access to several high-profile computer systems in town—the bank, our office. I’m sure he’s even done work at the church and for Trust Insurance. Maybe he did see something he shouldn’t have. We need to check out that angle.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “How about the first murder investigation? Any leads on that one?”

  “Just a suspicion, boss, nothing concrete.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you when I have something solid.”