Fugitive Father

by Carla Cassidy

  Chapter 14

  For the first time since he had become sheriff of Clay Creek, Reese didn’t want to go to work. He sat at the kitchen table, the morning sunshine demanding he stop lingering over his coffee and get moving. Usually he was at the office early, but he was in no hurry this morning. He hated to leave Sarah and Jackie alone for the day.

  Sarah had come back from the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. She’d looked more than tired, almost as if she suffered a soul sickness. Sinking down in the chair across from the sofa, she had briefly filled him in on Lindy’s condition. It wasn’t until she had told him that Ben was on his way back to town that her face filled with horror. “If it’s Ben who’s responsible for everything, surely he wouldn’t try anything in the hospital?” she’d asked worriedly.

  Reese had quickly called the hospital and spoken with Doc Burwell, explaining the events of the past couple of weeks to the old man and that he wanted a nurse in Lindy’s room at all times. Doc Burwell readily agreed.

  Sooner or later in the day, Reese intended to talk to Ben. He was going to lean hard on the man to get some straight answers. He had to find out who was after Sarah and Jackie. He had to make certain they were safe, then send them on their way. He didn’t think he could handle them living with him for too much longer.

  Even last night, he’d had to fight with himself not to wrap his arms around Sarah, hold her tight against him and try to remove the hollow emptiness from her eyes. But he knew he didn’t have that right.

  He started as she walked into the kitchen, obviously surprised to see him still there. “Oh, I thought you had to be at work by eight,” she said, self-consciously pulling the belt of her robe more tightly around her waist.

  “I do. I’ve still got fifteen minutes.” He watched silently as she moved across the kitchen to the cabinet that held the coffeemaker. He watched her covetously, trying not to notice that her hair was bewitchingly tousled, that her scent drifted in the air, surrounding him. He felt his body responding to her presence, realized his hands trembled slightly as he picked up his coffee mug.

  She poured herself a cup, then hesitated, as if reluctant to join him at the table. “Reese, I think it would be best if Jackie and I stay someplace else until all this is settled.”

  “Where would you stay?” he asked, his voice carrying with it weary resignation. He knew she was right. It would be better for both of them if they were not living so intimately, tempting themselves to distraction. And yet the thought of her staying anyplace else unsettled him.

  “I don’t know...we can get a room at the Clay Creek Motel.”

  Reese frowned. He hated the idea of Jackie cooped up in a motel room. He also hated the thought of both of them being out of his sight, away from his protection. He had a gut feeling that whoever was after them wouldn’t dare try anything as long as they were here, in his house. But if they were in the motel on the edge of town, a motel that was usually deserted...

  “Sarah, give me another day or two. Stay here where I know you’re safe. I plan on talking to Ben today. If he’s the one who’s been after you, then perhaps he’ll say something that will incriminate himself.”

  “I just want to solve this mystery and get back to New York.” There was a desperate edge to her voice and her gaze didn’t meet his.

  He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ve got to get going. What are your plans today?”

  “If I can get Anna to watch Jackie, then I’m heading back to the hospital.”

  He nodded. “I’d rather you not go anyplace else. Even though there haven’t been any incidents since you and Jackie moved in here, that doesn’t mean the danger has passed.” He hesitated a moment longer. “I’ll call you if we find out anything.” She looked small, so damned vulnerable. He felt a tug on his heart that matched the tightness in his groin. It would be so much easier when the head made a decision, if the heart and body followed suit, he thought. “I’ll talk to you later.” Before he did something stupid, he left.

  Hurrying down the sidewalk toward the sheriff’s office, Reese felt a renewed burst of desperation seep through him. It was a desperation mixed with frustration. What kind of a sheriff was he? He couldn’t even figure out who was after Sarah. Maybe he’d been kidding himself all along. Maybe he’d never been cut out to be a sheriff. Jim had made him see potential in himself for the first time in his life, but maybe they’d both been fools.

  He shoved these disheartening thoughts aside as he entered the building. Nodding curtly to Ida, he went directly to his office and closed the door. He sat down at the desk and pulled out the folder that had all the facts on Sarah’s case.

  The gunshot had probably been fired by a shotgun...Margaret’s missing gun? That implied somebody who had access to the Calhoun house. On the night that Jackie had been attacked, Sarah had mentioned that the dogs hadn’t barked. That implied somebody the dogs knew.

  He closed the folder and decided it was time to have a little talk with Ben. Heading toward the hospital, he tried to keep his thoughts on the subject at hand, tried to keep thoughts of Sarah from filtering in. Thinking of her only muddied his mind, and he needed to be clearheaded if he intended to trip up Ben.

  It took him only minutes to reach the hospital. He found Ben at Lindy’s bedside. Lindy was asleep, and Ben looked like a ghost, his face pale and gaunt as he sat unmoving in the chair next to the bed. He stood as Reese entered the room.

  “How’s she doing?” Reese asked, noting that Ben looked as if he’d aged a dozen years since Reese had seen him at Margaret’s funeral.

  “She’s fine. We were lucky this time.” He ran a hand over his face in a gesture of utter exhaustion. “I’m not taking any out-of-town cases anymore. I can’t take a chance on something like this happening again.”

  “I need to talk to you, Ben. Why don’t you come out in the hallway with me,” Reese suggested.

  Ben looked at Reese quizzically then nodded his assent. The two men stepped out into the hallway and Reese led Ben away from Lindy’s doorway. “While you’ve been out of town, there’s been some excitement going on.”

  “Lindy told me about the dogs being poisoned.” Ben frowned in frustration. “Why didn’t somebody call me immediately? If someone is trying to hurt Lindy or Sarah, why wasn’t I told?”

  “I told them not to tell you,” Reese replied cooly.

  “But why?” Ben asked incredulously. He stared at Reese in accusation and must have found his answer in Reese’s expression. He blanched and stumbled backward a step. “Surely you don’t think...you can’t believe that I...” He leaned against the wall, his face holding such horror that Reese’s gut instinct was that the man was innocent. Or a damned good actor, he thought, unwilling to be swayed by a convincing performance.

  “I need to know where you were last Thursday night between the hours of 9:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m.,” Reese said. His stomach muscles tightened as he thought of Jackie being awakened by hands wrapped around her throat.

  “You know where I was—in Kansas City. God, I don’t believe this.” There was no outrage in Ben’s voice, only a stunned disbelief that made his innocence even more credible.

  “Exactly where were you between those hours?” Reese pressed.

  “Thursday night?” Ben’s frown deepened. “I was probably in my hotel room asleep.”

  “Did you see anyone? Order room service? Is there any witness that can state that you were at the hotel all night?”

  “No...the trial had run long, I was exhausted. Reese, surely you can’t believe that I had anything to do with what’s been going on here.” Ben’s face held the shock and bewilderment of an innocent man, but still Reese refused to listen to what his gut told him. Ben was the only one who made any sense.

  Reese felt his frustration rolling around inside him, bubbling up into an impotent rage. He stepped closer to Ben, aware that he was invading the man’s personal space. “I don’t know who’s after Sarah and Jackie, but if something happens to the
m and I find out you had anything to do with it, I’ll kill you.” The words were said softly but with the suppressed rage that coiled inside him.

  Ben’s pupils dilated and he nodded. “I’d feel the same way if I was in your position, but, Reese, it’s not me.”

  Reese stepped back. “Just remember what I said.” He turned and walked down the hallway, his frustration nearly blinding him.

  Who was after Sarah? Why did somebody want to hurt her? Was the motive really the farm? Was Ben not only greedy, but an exceptionally good liar as well? Or was it Boswell? Even though his alibi had checked out, was it possible the wealthy man had hired someone to do his dirty work? God, Reese had never been so frustrated, or so afraid in his life.

  What if the motive wasn’t the farm at all? Could it be somebody from Sarah’s past? He tried to remember the boys she’d dated in high school, but there was nobody. Sarah had been his and there had never been any question about it. Everyone in town knew of their passion, their love for each other. A warmth swept through him as he thought of their innocence, the intrinsic rightness of their love.

  He thudded into somebody, the collision pulling him from his thoughts as he turned to apologize to the little woman he’d nearly knocked down. “Mrs. Jackson,” he greeted Suzanna’s neighbor. “What brings you to the hospital? I hope you aren’t ill.”

  “I’m here for a flu shot,” she said, smiling at him slyly. ”Haven’t seen you around for a couple of weeks. I think maybe Suzanna has gotten tired of waiting around for you.” Again the woman smiled as if enjoying being able to give him a bit of juicy gossip. “Maybe she’s got a new beau. She’s gotten so she comes and goes at all hours of the night.”

  “All hours of the night?” Reese felt a sudden wash of unease sweep through him. Suzanna? “When was the last time you saw her leave in the middle of the night?”

  Mrs. Jackson cackled with glee. “I knew that would shake you up!”

  Reese took her arm and held it tightly. Her laughter instantly died. “This is really important, Mrs. Jackson. When was the last time you saw Suzanna leave her apartment in the middle of the night?”

  “I don’t know, a couple nights ago.” She pulled her arm from his grasp. “It was Friday...no, Thursday night. I remember it was Thursday because I took the trash out that night.”

  “Do you remember what time it was?” There was a pounding in Reese’s ears, a roar of unreality.

  “It was after midnight, but I’m not sure of the exact time. Reese, is something wrong? Is Suzanna in trouble?” Her forehead crinkled worriedly.

  “It’s not Suzanna I’m worried about,” Reese said, his mind racing. He leaned down and kissed the old woman on her cheek. “Go get your flu shot and I’m going to stop a crime before it happens.” Without a backward glance he raced out the door of the hospital and to his patrol car. He needed a search warrant and he knew a certain judge who owed him a favor.

  As he drove, his mind whirled with images of Suzanna and visions of Sarah. Was he grasping at straws? Was Suzanna truly capable of such heinous actions? And yet even as he asked himself these questions, he knew the answers. He’d been so focused on Sarah and what could possibly cause somebody to be after her that he hadn’t questioned the people in his own life.

  Someplace deep inside, he’d always known Suzanna was in love with him, an obsessive kind of love that had lasted through the years despite his more casual feelings toward her. He knew Suzanna had a horrible temper, had seen it occasionally. He remembered one particular time, when he and Suzanna had gone out dancing. Sally Richards, a schoolmate of theirs, was at the bar celebrating her most recent divorce. She’d gotten tipsy and had flirted outrageously with him. Two days later, the tires on Sally’s car had been slashed. At the time Reese hadn’t connected the two things. But now his blood ran cold as he considered the implications.

  Suzanna had often been a visitor to the Calhoun farm. It was possible she had a key. The dogs would have known her and not barked if she’d crept into the yard in the middle of the night. She had been at the Calhouns after the funeral. She could have cut that board, then placed it back over the well. All the pieces were there...but did they fit together?

  He pulled up in front of Judge Melrose’s house and hit the sidewalk at a run. There was a horrible sense of imminent danger whispering in his ear, a dreadful knowledge of time running out.

  Within twenty minutes Reese was back in his car, heading for Suzanna’s apartment. The search warrant seemed to burn through his breast pocket straight into his heart. He liked Suzanna, but if he found out that she had tried to hurt Sarah and Jackie, he would see her in prison for as long as the law would allow. Or worse.

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to get a handle on the rage that flooded through him. Nobody hurt what was his without facing his own particular brand of consequences.

  When he pulled into the lot outside Suzanna’s apartment building, he noted that her car was gone from the space where she usually parked. Good, she was probably at work, he thought. He didn’t want a confrontation with her...not until he was absolutely sure she was guilty.

  The owner of the building, Ralph Baker, let him into Suzanna’s apartment. When Reese offered to show him the search warrant, he waved his hands dismissively. “If you’re wanting in here, I’m sure you got a good reason,” the old man said as he unlocked the apartment door. He hesitated a moment before opening the door. “Am I gonna have to find a new tenant?”

  “I hope not,” Reese said truthfully, “but I’m not sure.”

  Ralph nodded. “Just lock up when you’re through.”

  Reese nodded absently and stepped inside. He was immediately surrounded by the pervasive scent of Suzanna’s perfume. He didn’t know where to begin his search, wasn’t even sure what exactly he was looking for. He only knew that if Suzanna was involved in this in any way, evidence would be here someplace.

  “Hey, Tiger,” he said softly, greeting the big cat that rubbed against his shins. He leaned down and scratched the cat behind an ear, his gaze focused on the room around him.

  How many evenings had he spent here, filling empty hours, fighting memories of Sarah? He’d never made any promises to Suzanna, never implied a commitment of any kind. Yet he now realized that he had a certain culpability in this mess. He’d used Suzanna to attempt to fill the void that Sarah’s leaving had caused.

  He left the cat and began looking around, starting in the living room. He searched beneath the furniture, in the cabinets of the entertainment center, behind the curtains, in the coat closet—anyplace where a gun or any other evidence could be hidden.

  He found nothing and moved into the kitchen. Again a thorough search yielded nothing. He looked at his watch, fighting against the feeling that somehow time was slipping away. Almost noon. He wondered what Sarah was doing. He wondered where Suzanna was.

  A cursory inspection of the bathroom also proved fruitless. He went into the bedroom, looking around desperately. Here was Suzanna’s haven. While the other two rooms had been neat and orderly, the bedroom was decorated with chaos.

  He picked his way across the clothes-strewn floor to the dresser, checking each drawer, still unsure what he was looking for but certain he would find something here. If his instincts were right about Suzanna, then she had tried to kill Sarah, tried to kill Jackie. But knowing and proving were two different things, and he had to find some sort of evidence that would prove Suzanna’s guilt.

  In the nightstand next to the bed he found an old yearbook. Clay Creek High School. He ran his hands across the red embossed letters. The year on the cover told him it was the annual from Suzanna’s senior year.

  Quickly he scanned the color portraits of the senior class, finding Suzanna’s and studying it for a moment. Her hair hadn’t been quite as blond back then, and her face had held a confidence, an unshakable belief in her own prettiness and popularity. The face of a would-be murderer? Reese frowned, his conviction wavering momentarily. Maybe he was
wrong. Maybe Suzanna’s nighttime excursions were nothing more than a new boyfriend.

  He started to close the book, then remembered that when Suzanna had been a senior, Sarah had been a sophomore. He flipped through the pages, needing to see her, wanting to drink in the vision that she had been when he’d first fallen in love with her.

  He found the page and stared down, his blood turning cold. Sarah’s picture had been destroyed beneath the point of a pen. Her face had been scribbled over with strokes that screamed of hatred. “Suzanna,” he whispered aloud. The uncertainty he’d felt only moments before blew away, leaving him once again with the chilling knowledge that Suzanna was guilty.

  Within minutes he’d found a container of rat poison in the closet and a shotgun beneath the bed. He pulled the shotgun out and placed it on the bright floral sheets. He ran his fingers over the initials carved into the wooden stock of the gun. MC—Margaret Calhoun. Suzanna had stolen the gun from the Calhoun farm, then tried to kill Sarah with it.

  Sarah. A picture of her face exploded in his head. He dialed his own number on the phone next to Suzanna’s bed. He needed to make sure Sarah and Jackie were safe. He needed to tell her what he’d found out.

  “Sarah...” He expelled a sigh of relief as she answered the phone.

  “Oh, Reese,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “You barely caught me. I was just on my way out to the hospital.”

  “Anna is there with Jackie?” he asked, his gaze lingering on the gun. How close she had come...how close Suzanna had come to killing Sarah.

  “No, Anna had to work at the café. Suzanna called me back from the café and said she had the afternoon off and would be glad to watch Jackie while I visit Lindy. She picked her up just a few minutes ago.”

  A roar filled Reese’s head, causing him to stumble against the side of the bed. “Wh—where was she taking Jackie?”

  “They were going out to the farm to feed the dogs, then shopping or something. Reese, what’s wrong?”