by Неизвестный
To her surprise, Samantha felt protective of the woman. Perhaps because she'd been spending her evenings with the ghost of the man being honored at the party. If anyone deserved the mantle of cray cray, it was her.
“Wendy Jameson has been through a difficult time,” she said in the woman's defense.
“Sure,” he snorted. “Maybe she shouldn't have pushed her nephew so hard.”
She gave him a sidelong look. Her imagination finished his sentence in her head. Off that cliff! Maybe Wendy shouldn't have pushed her nephew so hard off that cliff! Was Charles implying something?
“Did you know Warren personally?” Charles asked, his eyes wandering down to focus not so discreetly on her midsection.
“We worked together on some photos,” she lied.
“Work, work, work.” He tore his eyes off her body and glanced around at the nature and landscape photos on every wall. “It's good to work. It gives one purpose.”
She glanced around, looking for an escape. Across the room, an orange-shirted Finn Bruno made eye contact with her and raised an eyebrow. She quickly looked down at her shoes and wished she hadn't left the comfort of the cabin.
Charles was still talking, carrying on the conversation. “I work with Caitlyn Winters, you know. We're really good friends. Practically BFFs. She's going to stop by here later tonight if she has time.” Charles kept staring at Samantha's dress, as though he could see through the orange fabric to her navel. He licked his lips and continued, “Caitlyn's a very busy girl. Busy, busy, busy. But she really should take the time to come and show respect for the work of a great man.” He finally dragged his gaze back up to Samantha's face, and his expression turned innocent. “Have you talked to Caitlyn? Did she say she would be coming?”
“I'm afraid I don't know about Caitlyn's plans.” Samantha reached into her purse and pulled out the pearl-dotted barrette that the blonde had dropped at the cabin. “Except I do have this, which I'd like to return to her.”
Charles snatched the barrette from her hand greedily. His fingertips were moist, like those of a child who'd been sucking them. Samantha recoiled and stepped back so quickly she spilled some champagne from the flute onto her hand.
“I'll take care of this,” Charles said. “I'll give this to Caitlyn when I see her. If not tonight, then tomorrow at work.” He clutched the barrette as though it were a talisman.
“Thank you,” Samantha said through a clenched smile. “See you around.” She ducked her head and turned, offering no further explanation. She guessed that any specific excuses would be twisted into a reason for Charles to continue the interaction, running to fetch her a napkin or another drink or a plate of food.
She walked away from him quickly, made a visual on the front door, and excused herself through the packed crowd until she got outside.
In the darkness, a few feet away, someone struck a match and lit a cigarette. She turned to see two boys in their late teens, smoking at the edge of the brick building. They saw her looking their way, and offered her a cigarette. She hadn't smoked in years, not since she'd quit to break the habit of drinking and smoking. She heard a voice in her head: Sammy, if you must smoke, at least do it somewhere I can't see you. Who'd said that?
Something flickered at the edge of her vision. Warren? No, he wasn't there. It wasn't night yet. The sun was still above the roof line of the town's buildings.
She turned back to the boys and told them she'd love a cigarette. The two teens laughed with their mid-puberty deep voices and fought playfully over who would be the one to light the pretty lady's smoke.
As she took her first full drag, she heard someone calling her name.
Chapter 10
Caitlyn Winters, the young blonde who worked as a community reporter, was walking up the sidewalk toward the fire hall building.
“Samantha, that is you!”
“Hi, Caitlyn.” Samantha turned, keeping her hand with the cigarette behind her back. “It's pretty crowded in there. I'm just heading home again now, but it was nice to see you.”
“You can't leave yet,” Caitlyn pleaded. “If I'd known somebody fun was here, I would have been here right at seven.”
Samantha grinned at the compliment. She was somebody fun in Caitlyn's eyes. It was the nicest thing she'd heard in weeks, due to being holed up in a remote cabin with a mute ghost.
“There are other fun people inside,” Samantha said. “I'm sure you know half the people in there.”
“More like three quarters,” Caitlyn said with an eye roll.
“Hey, you dropped a barrette at my cabin last month, when the three of us were doing our best impression of Sex and the City. I gave it to your BFF, Charles.” She giggled, even though it wasn't terribly funny. “He seems very loyal.”
Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. “Loyal. Sure. Charles DeWitt is loyal like a bad infection.”
Samantha dropped the cigarette she'd been holding behind her back and discreetly crushed it out with her heel. “We should get together sometime for drinks,” Samantha said. “You can tell me all about your exciting work at the community station. Maybe with Toni? She's your cousin, right?”
Caitlyn's nose wrinkled again. A group of people approached the door of the former fire hall, so the two women separated and stepped out of the doorway to let them in. The teenage boys had finished their cigarettes and also went inside.
Once they were alone again, Caitlyn asked, “How about just the two of us? Do you have plans for Wednesday night? I've got the whole day off, so I'm going to clear out some closets. You should come over in the evening. We can have dinner, and you can stop me from going online and shopping my credit card into oblivion.”
“I've got two bottles of wine I can bring,” Samantha said. “Unless you prefer tequila?”
“Just bring your fabulous self.” Caitlyn pulled a card from her pocket and wrote her address and driving instructions on the back. They agreed on seven o'clock Wednesday, which was in three days, and that Samantha could bring wine, but just one bottle.
Samantha wished her an enjoyable time at Warren's art retrospective, and then drove home, smiling the whole way.
That night, when Warren appeared after dark at the cabin, she said, “Happy now? I'm getting out and meeting people. You like that, don't you?”
He nodded, yes. He was happy now. Happy she was getting to know people in Owl Bend.
They sat in peaceful silence together for a while before she asked, “Is this your big plan? Are you trying to make me move here permanently?”
Warren gave her an innocent look and a half shrug.
He didn't speak, but she heard words in her head. No matter what happens, please know that I only want what's best for you.
“Did you say something?”
He gave her the innocent look again and put his ghost arm around her. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the comfort of his love. They'd been dating over a month now. She wasn't crazy to think it was love.
“I love you, too,” she said. She didn't open her eyes to see his reaction.
* * *
June 8th
7:02 p.m.
Residence of Caitlyn Winters
Caitlyn lived in a house that was surprisingly large for a young, single woman. The home was located twelve miles south of the town limits for Owl Bend, on a substantial chunk of land. The house itself was rustic in style, fashioned of huge logs in an A-frame style, with two-story windows designed to maximize the view of the Colorado mountains.
Samantha knocked on the wooden front door, which opened under the force of her knocking.
“Hello?” She peered around inside the A-frame home. The lofted front room had apparently been furnished with items chosen for their comfort rather than to match with each other or create a cohesive theme. At one side of the room, facing the two-story view, was a particularly cozy recliner with a still-steaming cup of tea on the table next to it.
She called out again, and this time got a response. “Make yourself at hom
e,” Caitlyn called out from nearby. A toilet flushed and the young blonde appeared at the top of the stairs for the upper loft. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said breathlessly when she got downstairs. “Can I make you some tea? Or coffee? I have a French press.” She led the way to the kitchen, which featured more rustic wood on the cabinets.
“Or we could open this,” Samantha said, holding up one of the bottles of wine she'd bought with the bartender's help a few weeks earlier.
“Looks yummy,” Caitlyn said.
Samantha looked up at the high ceiling. “This is a gorgeous house, by the way. A real dream home in the country. Have you lived here long?”
Caitlyn seemed to consider the question seriously before answering, “Oh, only about twenty-nine years.” She laughed as she plunged a corkscrew into the bottle. “I live here with my mother. I left the nest briefly, for college, and ended up right where I started, though I've been getting a taste of living alone lately. Mom's on a cruise right now.” She pointed to one of the barstools along the counter. “Have a seat, unless you'd like a full tour first.”
Samantha smiled and took a seat, saying the tour could wait. For the next twenty minutes, they made small talk about the house and the garden, and the wildlife that ate almost everything Caitlyn and her mother planted. Samantha tried to be a polite guest and not dig into gossip, but a question burned in her mind.
On the second glass of wine, she asked, “What's the deal with Toni, anyway? Is she your cousin? And what was going on between her and Warren? I talked to Finn Bruno a bit last month, and I think he's a bit hung up on her.” She didn't ask about the lost pregnancy, as it didn't seem like fair game.
Caitlyn nodded, looking anything but surprised at the questions. “Toni Winters is my second cousin, and she's a nice enough person, deep down. But if I were you, I wouldn't get too close to her, if you can help it. She loves to fixate on new people, but she burns through them quickly.” She bit her lower lip guiltily and glanced around, even though the two women were alone in the large house. “I didn't know Warren at all when they started hanging out. It's hard to say exactly what happened between them. You know how they say there are two sides to every story, and then there's the truth, which is something else entirely.”
“I've heard that expression.” Samantha looked down at her wine as she gave it a swirl. “Were they still dating when Warren Jameson died?”
Caitlyn let out a laugh that bordered on wicked. “I don't think they were ever dating. Not officially, anyway. More like a couple of drunken hookups that Toni believed meant something.”
“So, there's no chance she was out hiking with him the day of his accident?”
“Not likely. She came to the studio to help me with something earlier that afternoon, a funny little bit for our Cinco de Mayo coverage. She didn't say anything about Warren, which would have been odd if she'd actually had plans to see him.”
“Oh, thank God,” Samantha said with a big sigh of relief. She felt much better knowing that Toni couldn't have pushed Warren off the cliff in a lover's quarrel.
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Why do you say that? Has Toni been trying to milk you for sympathy?”
Samantha didn't feel ready to share that she'd been dating Warren herself. Especially not if Caitlyn might think she was bringing it up to milk out some sympathy. “Something like that,” she said cryptically. “Can I help you with dinner?”
“Just keep me company and help me eat it,” Caitlyn said, and she continued preparations.
From there, the evening continued in a pleasant manner. Dinner was served on the wrap-around patio overlooking the bits of garden the deer or moose hadn't eaten. One bottle of wine led to the second one, and then back to coffee for the dessert course. Caitlyn shared details about funny community stories she'd covered for the TV and radio, and she used a computer tablet to show Samantha some commercials she'd acted in as a child. The pretty blonde admitted to still harboring dreams of stardom.
The sun set between the mountains, and they went inside once the chill set in. The front door had swung open on its own, and the interior was buzzing with at least five good-sized houseflies. The two women spent a giggly twenty minutes dealing with the flies so they could relax without the drone.
“How long's your door been broken?” Samantha asked.
“Ages,” Caitlyn said. “My mother's been meaning to fix it, but whenever we start to get serious about installing a new handle, the thing comes to its senses and starts working again for a few weeks.” She looked way up at the peak of the A-frame's vaulted ceiling. “We think it might be something to do with the weather. Either that, or it's haunted.”
“Haunted. That's funny.” Samantha snorted over her coffee and leaned forward to help herself to another cookie from the tray on the coffee table. After loading the dishwasher, they'd settled in the living room, and the furniture was as comfortable as it looked.
Caitlyn said, “You laugh, but my mother is one of those ladies who sees things. She actually does readings for people.” She rubbed the well-worn arms of the recliner. “She sits right here and tells people about their auras, or the spirits hanging around them.” She tilted her head to the side, her blonde bob swinging adorably. “Mamma says the gift runs in the family.”
Samantha had consumed her fair share of the wine, but at the mention of psychic gifts, she lost the heady buzz instantly. “Caitlyn, are you saying you have a gift for seeing things?”
“I'm adopted,” Caitlyn said. “If I do have any gifts, they came from another family tree entirely.”
Samantha's spine stiffened. She remembered meeting Wendy Jameson three days earlier at the art show, and how Warren had mentioned his aunt fixating on young women she believed could be her daughter. “Are you in contact with your birth parents?”
Caitlyn shuddered. “God, no. No, thank you.”
Samantha studied Caitlyn's features, which were both average and attractive. Even if Wendy Jameson could have conceived a child, it seemed unlikely it would resemble Caitlyn Winters. It was obvious why the girl had been a child actor in commercials.
“Don't do that,” Caitlyn said with a smirk. “I know you're trying to figure out what my birth parents looked like. People always do that when they find out you're adopted. They look at you in a new light.” She crossed her thin arms over her chest. “Seriously, don't.”
Samantha finished chewing her cookie and covered her eyes with both hands. “Guilty,” she said with a smile.
Caitlyn let out a light laugh. “Just teasing.” There was a creaking sound, and Caitlyn yelled, “Excuse me!”
Samantha dropped her hands and looked to see what Caitlyn was yelling about. The front door was open, and diminutive Charles DeWitt stood in the doorway with one hand raised in the air. He must have knocked, like Samantha had, and the door had simply swung open.
“Caitlyn,” Charles said, his bulging eyes darting from her to Samantha and back again. “I think your door's broken.”
She got to her feet and crossed her arms. “Tell me something I don't know,” she said, clearly agitated.
He shuffled into the room without an invitation and slowly closed the door behind him. “Is this a bad time? You got another letter.”
“It's not exactly a good time for that,” she spat.
As the two squared off, Samantha glanced around to locate her purse. She wanted to leave, but her own cabin was on the opposite side of town, and her bladder was full. She quietly excused herself and left the two coworkers to their conversation while she went in search of the bathroom, upstairs.
Once she was inside the bathroom, Samantha could hear muffled voices but not their conversation. She used the facilities and then stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs, listening. Charles was talking about letters that had been coming to the community station.
“I don't understand,” Caitlyn said. “Why are you here? Why didn't you take it over to the deputy sheriff and let him handle it?”
>
“Don't you want to know who it is now?” Charles asked. “And why these are still coming? This one doesn't have a stamp. It must have been dropped off in person.”
“You idiot,” she said. “They're still coming because they're going to keep coming until I disappear off the face of the earth.”
“But...” He trailed off.
“Yes, Charles?” she spat. “Do you have a theory you'd like to share with me? How about I go get my magical CSI kit and we can test the envelope for DNA and then test every person in this town. I'll get right on that.”
“I guess... Uh... I'll drop this at the sheriff's office.”
“Good idea!”
Samantha emerged from the shadows, cleared her throat to announce her presence, and came down the stairs just in time to see Caitlyn practically shove Charles out the front door. She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to prevent it from swinging open again.
Samantha picked up her empty coffee cup, and paused to give Caitlyn a sympathetic look. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Caitlyn shook her head. “Just another glamorous day in the life of a community access channel superstar.” She picked up her own mug and walked heavily toward the kitchen. Samantha followed. Caitlyn opened the dishwasher with a squeak and said, “Some loser has been sending me creepy letters through the station. The kind with letters and words cut out of magazines.”
“I'm so sorry. That must be awful.”
Caitlyn sighed. “It could be worse. The letters aren't exactly threatening. They usually contain inspirational quotes, or requests for me to smile more, or to wear a particular color that brings out my eyes.” She frowned at the dishes as she loaded them into the racks. “He loves it when I wear green.”
“That sounds awful.” Samantha glanced at the tall, dark windows. They had no curtains, and she felt very exposed in the brightly lit house.
“I wish he'd drop dead,” Caitlyn said.
Samantha made a sympathetic noise. Caitlyn was referring to the stalker as a male, but was it possible the letters were coming from a delusional Wendy Jameson? Or perhaps they were coming from the creepy little guy who worshiped his coworker.