“Why an investigative reporter and not a police officer or a prosecutor?”
He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t very good on the debate team in high school, so I couldn’t see myself as a lawyer. And I don’t like guns, so being a cop was out of the question. But I did like a good puzzle.”
She didn’t want the evening to end even though she was exhausted emotionally and physically from the long day. “How about something to drink, and if I know my mother, there are some brownies left for us.”
“How can I refuse—good company and chocolate?”
She whirled around and tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Exactly. That’s why I used the brownies as a lure.”
His laughter followed her out of the garage. She crossed to the porch steps, then waited for him to shut the door. As he strode toward her, the security light illuminated his handsome face. His gaze remained fixed on her the whole way across the yard. Goose bumps spread down her arms from the intensity in his eyes. It seemed an eternity before he was at her side.
“I think summer has decided to revisit Magnolia Falls,” she said as she mounted the stairs.
She lifted her gaze toward the sky, clear with a few visible stars shining. The moon hovered above the line of pine trees along the fence. The warm air encased her in nature’s perfumed fragrance.
“Winters are never bad compared to the ones we used to have in New York and Chicago.”
Inside the kitchen Cassie went to the refrigerator and removed a pitcher of lemonade. “Is this all right?”
“Sure.”
The sound of voices from the dining room floated to Cassie. “Mom loves a good board game. I’m glad the pastor and his wife came over, so we didn’t need to rush back here.”
Jameson grabbed the plate of brownies. “Let’s eat these out on the porch. We need to enjoy the perfect fall evening.”
She finished pouring two glasses full of lemonade, then made her way outside. She was glad she was alone with Jameson, but she wondered if it was the mention of the pastor that had prompted the suggestion.
In order to see the stars better, she switched off the backyard light before taking a seat on the porch steps. Leaning back against one, she angled herself so she could look at Jameson. He put the plate between them on the top stair.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw his on her. One of the things she liked about him was he gave people his full attention when he was with them. She had told him she was a good listener, but she could take lessons from him.
He took a brownie and bit into it. “Mmm. This is wonderful. I’m going to have to get to know Mrs. McVay or pay her to make some for me.”
“Knowing her, she would do it for free.” She grabbed one for herself. “I’m not a great cook, but I do prepare a mean batch of fudge.”
“Oh, a woman after my heart.”
Although he said it teasingly, Cassie halted the brownie halfway to her mouth and looked at him. “When all this with Scott is over with, where does that leave us?” The bold question caused her heart to pound painfully slow.
He popped the last bite of his treat into his mouth, then stretched his legs out in front of him and propped his elbows on the top step behind him. He stared out into the backyard. “I don’t know. My life has been on hold for so long, I don’t know anything else.” His attention returned to her. “I’m not going to deny any longer that I care for you, Cassie.”
Her heart went from beating slowly to speeding at a dizzying rate. “You’re special to me, too.”
“But—” he paused, sitting up straight “—I’m not sure I can ever commit to another, and you deserve only the best.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She surged to her feet and descended the stairs, then faced him. “I appreciate your honesty. That’s one of the reasons I like you so much. If friendship is all you can give me, then so be it.” Somehow she would make it work because he needed a good friend, and she couldn’t turn away from him. The Lord brought him back into her life, and she would have to place her trust in that.
A light breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of roses from Mrs. McVay’s garden next door. She remembered Scott helping her neighbor plant the bushes. Her brother had always liked working outside in the garden. The thought sparked an idea. “What do you think about a memorial garden for Scott at Magnolia College? The garden was torn up when the college started construction on the library renovation.”
“I believe they have plans to put something in in the spring.”
“Yeah, Steff said something about that when I saw her last week. Maybe I could do something in Scott’s memory. When I have the time, I love to garden. So did my brother.”
“I say go for it.” Jameson took another brownie.
“She said they have some of the azalea bushes from when Trevor removed them at the beginning of the renovation. I could use those and buy some other plants for right now, and then in the spring add some more. Fall is a good time to plant some bulbs, too.” Cassie picked up her lemonade and drank the sweetly tart liquid.
“When are you thinking about starting it?”
“I’m off Friday afternoon. I thought I would do some then and finish up on Saturday.” A strand of her hair whipped across her face. She pushed it behind her ear. “Are you busy on Saturday?”
“Is this your indirect way of asking me to help you with the garden?” Jameson asked with a chuckle.
“Yep. I’m going to recruit a few high schoolers, but I can always use an extra pair of hands.”
“I think I can even help out Friday afternoon. I don’t have any classes then.”
“Maybe by then we could figure out where to go with Scott’s investigation.”
“Don’t say that too loudly. If Jim heard us say that, he’d tell us to leave the police work to the police.”
Cassie took another long sip of her lemonade. “I’ve never been good about minding my own business.”
“I’ve been telling you for years you’d make a good reporter.”
“Are you telling me I’m nosy?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “No way am I going to answer that.”
“Seriously, what should we do now? We checked out the In and Out Mart and the hospital. Neither place produced another lead.”
“Yet. Sam might call me about Tony, and I’m going to do some checking on the whereabouts of Kevin. He may still be in the area.”
“So you think we should wait and see?”
He nodded.
“I’m not very good at that, but since we don’t really have a choice, I guess I’d better learn how. What about the trace on my phone? Should I call Jim since he’ll need my permission?”
“I’ll give him a heads-up tomorrow. Get in touch with him on Monday.”
“I’m not sure if I want it to be the killer trying to frighten us or one of my students playing a prank.”
“Safer if it’s a student.”
“But if it’s the killer, we could get him.”
“I doubt he would be calling to you from his own phone.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I know. It would be just so much easier if there was a sign pointing to the culprit.”
“I’m sure the police would like that, too.”
Jameson stood, picking up the empty plate and his glass. “Those brownies hit the spot. Sad to say I could have eaten another one.”
“You really are a chocoholic. If I’d realized that when I was in your class, I could have bribed you with a whole batch of fudge.”
“Feel free to do that, anyway.” He turned to go up the steps.
Cassie trailed after him into the kitchen. “Reverend Rogers and his wife must have left. It’s so quiet.”
Jameson glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s later than I thought. I’d better go.”
Cassie walked him to the foyer, noticing indeed her mother had retired for the evening.
At the front door, Cassie held it open and said,
“Thanks, Jameson, for making today easier.”
He cocked a grin. “My fee is a ride in the Mustang. It’ll bring back memories of my childhood driving around with my dad.”
“It’s a date. How about after we work on the garden next Saturday?”
“Sure.”
When he didn’t move to leave, Cassie asked, “Is there something else?”
“I’m just waiting for you to close and lock the door, then I’ll leave.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone hiding on the porch,” she said with amusement.
“Humor me. I’ll feel better knowing you’re secured behind a locked door.”
“Okay.”
Jameson waited until he heard the lock click into place before strolling toward his car. When Cassie had said “It’s a date,” his pulse rate had accelerated. He’d wanted to say, “No, I don’t date.” Then he realized he was already involved with her whether he wanted to be or not. The thought frightened him. How could he live with himself if something happened to Cassie?
“Dr. King, you wanted me to call if Tony showed up here at the mart.” Sam’s whispered voice barely carried over the phone line.
“I’ll be right there.”
“He arrived a moment ago.”
“What’s he driving?”
“An old blue Chevy truck. It’s parked in the back.”
“Thanks.” Jameson hung up and looked at the student sitting across from him in his office. “I hate to cut this meeting short, but an emergency has come up that I must see to.”
The young lady rose. “I appreciate your help. I’ll get that paper into you by the end of the week.”
Jameson walked the student to his door and left with her, locking his office. Fifteen minutes later he sat in his car outside the In and Out Mart, waiting for Tony to leave. He didn’t want to talk to him at the store. Too public. He was sure he was following one of Scott’s trails. He had an itch he always used to get when he was onto a big story.
When Tony emerged from the back of the store with a paper bag and drove away, Jameson kept behind him at a discreet distance. Will’s brother took the highway to Savannah.
On the outskirts of the city Tony stopped at a laundry and went in, staying no more than two minutes. When he came out carrying only a sack, Jameson’s curiosity spiked. A paper sack from a laundry? Next Tony visited another quick market, taking both sacks into the store. This time he exited empty-handed.
This was getting even more curious, Jameson thought. He followed Tony to a three-story, older apartment building, then let ten minutes pass before he walked into the lobby. If he had to, he would knock on every door until he found Tony. But thankfully he didn’t. Mailboxes lined the wall next to the entrance. He spied Tony Blake’s name on one and the apartment number was right below it.
Jameson found Tony’s door and knocked on it. It swung open to reveal the young man, shoeless with his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose. Tony’s eyes grew round.
“Dr. King! What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
When Jameson pushed forward, Tony started to stand his ground, but after a few seconds stepped aside. The stench of stale beer accosted Jameson’s nostrils as he moved farther into the living area. On the table in front of the couch lay a box of pepperoni pizza with two slices left.
“Why are you here?”
Jameson pivoted toward the young man with a day’s growth of beard on his face and his hair pulled back in a leather strap. He had a wary look in his eyes.
“Tell me about the fight between Scott Winters and Kevin Reed that last month before you all graduated.”
“Fight? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His brow creased into an even deeper frown.
Jameson covered the few paces between them and almost met the ex-basketball player eye to eye. What he lacked in height, he made up for by his no-nonsense expression. “Yes, you do. I know it happened at one of your little bashes you used to have.”
Tony glared at him for a long moment, then something seemed to deflate in him. He shrugged and turned away. “There was always someone getting into a fight. Guys drink. Guys get carried away. How am I supposed to remember one from years ago?”
“Try.”
With another lift of the shoulders Tony backed away. “Probably over some girl. That’s usually what happened.”
“I don’t think so.” Jameson moved forward. “I didn’t drive all the way here to get the runaround.”
“How did you find me? I haven’t been living here long.”
Jameson scanned the trashed apartment with some opened boxes along the wall. “What was the fight about?”
Tony stared at his cold pizza, then suddenly snapped his finger. “Oh, yeah. Ever since the accident at that last basketball game, Scott blamed Kevin for the end of his career. That wasn’t any big secret. It was an accident, but Scott wouldn’t listen to anyone. Stubborn fool.”
“Why did he think it wasn’t?”
“Who knows? Bitterness does funny things to a person.” He looked again at his pizza. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of dinner and I would like to finish.”
“Did Scott come see you recently?”
“No, I haven’t seen him in years,” Tony answered quickly, but his gaze slid to the right and down. “We weren’t really friends, so there was no reason for us to keep in touch.”
Interesting, Jameson thought. Like his brother, he’s lying. Telling me way too much information when no would have sufficed.
“Do you know where Kevin is?”
“I’m not his keeper.” Tony walked to the door and opened it. “Goodbye.”
Jameson passed him. “Oh, one more question. Where is Paige, your ex-sister-in-law?”
A tightening around Tony’s mouth and a narrowing of his eyes highlighted his rising anger. He mumbled something under his breath, trying to push his door closed. Jameson stood in the middle of the entrance.
“Have I hit a sore spot with you?”
“She did a number on my brother. Spreading rumors. She did our family a favor by leaving. I have no idea where she is. Don’t want to know.”
Jameson stepped back. Tony slammed the door in his face.
NINE
C assie knelt in the flower bed outside the newly renovated part of the Kessler Library at Magnolia College. The sun beat down on her, warming the cool air. A perfect day to start on the memorial garden. Along the brick wall she’d planned a row of azaleas with different perennials in front of them. She would use a few of the large bushes, planted ten years ago, that Steff had Trevor save when he’d begun digging the foundation for the annex to the library. Now that it was completed, Cassie could replant them.
After patting the dirt around one of the azaleas she moved to the next spot and pushed the shovel into the soft ground. Physical labor was just what she needed after all that had occurred in the past few weeks.
Again and again, she dug. This hole would be deeper for the largest saved bush, the focal point of the floral display. A film of sweat coated her forehead. Pausing, she mopped her hand across her temple, then struggled to lift the bush and place it in the earth. She should have waited for Jameson to put in this one. Panting from the exertion, she crouched and loosened some of the dirt around the ball to smooth into the ground.
Her hand grazed something hard. Looking down, she saw a dull oval piece of jewelry. Brushing the dirt away, she exposed a tarnished silver locket with its chain entwined around one of the roots. Carefully, she unwound the necklace and lifted it up to examine her find.
How in the world did this locket end up with the azalea bush?
Something was engraved on the front. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface. Initials? Possibly one a P or a B? Or an R? She opened the locket and a faded picture stared back at her, but she couldn’t tell much from the photo. Squinting, she examined the photograph. Maybe a picture of a baby?
Closing the locket, she tried
to clean it up some more with water from the hose and a rag. It had been in the ground a long time. She felt as though she had discovered someone’s treasure. But whose? A student’s?
There was something else. Some kind of date under the initials? Again she scrubbed at the oval piece of silver, but it was in such bad shape she could only make out the number 98—1998?
She nearly dropped the necklace when she realized the year was the same as when the woman had been murdered. The same year the azaleas had been planted near the scene. Maybe this locket was tied to the skeleton! No, it couldn’t be, could it? Too much of a coincidence. But still, how did it become lost and end up buried so deeply?
The murdered woman had given birth. Is the photo a picture of that baby? Where is the child now? Of course, she wasn’t even sure the photograph was of a baby. It could be her imagination working overtime, with all the intrigue she’d been involved in lately. Maybe, like Jameson, she should take up writing a mystery.
With trembling hands, she wrapped the necklace in the rag and stuffed it in her pocket. She surveyed the area, wondering if anyone had been watching her when she made the discovery. She wasn’t even sure why, but with all that was going on, she couldn’t be too careful. A group of students walked toward the library entrance, but other than them, the place appeared deserted. She shuddered. Fear permeated deeply through her.
She dug her cell out of her other pocket and called Jameson. He answered on the fifth ring.
“I found something in the ground when I was planting one of the bushes for the memorial garden. This azalea was saved when they started the renovation a few months ago.” Again she made a slow circle, checking the terrain.
“What?”
“A necklace dating back I believe to 1998, the same year that woman was murdered. These azaleas I’m using were near where they dug up her skeleton. I think I should call Detective Anderson about this. Do you know his number?”
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