by C. B. Clark
Declan’s visit had unsettled her. His certainty someone was out to harm her was ridiculous. She agreed with the sheriff. Her tires had most likely been slashed by teenagers high on drugs or alcohol and looking for trouble. Petty crimes like car vandalisms happened all the time. Even in small towns like Cooper’s Ridge.
The keying of Declan’s truck was the senseless act of kids being stupid. They might have been babies when Skye was murdered, but they’d have heard the grisly story from their parents. It wasn’t every day someone in Cooper’s Ridge was murdered. The vandals had probably thought it a real thrill to scratch ‘Murderer’ on Declan’s truck.
“Where are you going?” Vivian shuffled down the hall toward her.
“Out.” Carrie Ann bit her bottom lip. She’d hoped to avoid her aunt. Earlier this morning she’d called someone she’d known in high school. Marie Faulkner had been a good friend once upon a time. She’d attended Prom and the after-party at the old farm the night Skye had disappeared. More important, she was willing to talk. Carrie Ann had phoned three other old friends, but not one of them would talk to her about Skye’s murder. They hadn’t come right out and said they wouldn’t, but she’d seen through their feeble excuses. At least Marie had agreed to meet her.
She glanced at her watch. “Look, Vivian, I have to go.” She opened the door.
“Where’s Declan?” Vivian frowned at her.
“Declan?”
Vivian placed a hand on her arm. “He told me what happened to your car. He thinks you’re in danger. You shouldn’t go out by yourself.”
“He’s overreacting.”
“After what happened to your car and Declan’s truck yesterday, I would think you’d be more concerned.”
“I’ll be okay.” She tugged her arm to break free.
Vivian tightened her hold. “You’re not going anywhere alone. If you won’t let Declan help you, I’ll get Leland. He’ll go with you.”
Was that fear in the old woman’s eyes? Carrie Ann shook her head. Couldn’t be. Vivian wasn’t afraid of anything. “I’ll be fine. See you later.” She opened the door, stepped onto the porch, walked down the steps and along the brick path to her car. Ted had delivered her car earlier in the morning. He’d grinned like a Cheshire cat when she paid him. His business had taken a definite upturn since she’d come back to town.
A car horn honked, or rather, beeped, and a pint-sized, silver, two-door car stopped at the end of the long driveway. The driver’s door opened, and a familiar figure climbed out.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I told you I was driving you today.” Declan walked around and opened the passenger door of the silver car. “Come on. Get in.”
“Are you kidding me? You don’t honestly think I’m going anywhere with you?” She looked pointedly at her watch. “I’m late, so I’d appreciate if you’d move your tin can out of my way so I can leave.”
He grinned, flashing even, white teeth. “This car is kind of small, isn’t it? Franco’s Deals on Wheels didn’t have much of a selection.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “Please move.” She hated to beg, but she was determined to meet Marie before the woman changed her mind about talking to her.
Declan didn’t budge. He stood and waited as if he had all the time in the world, an infuriating grin plastered across his handsome face.
Cursing under her breath, she marched over to the small car. She slid into the passenger seat, strapped on her seat belt, and crossed her arms in front of her, staring straight ahead.
He closed her door and sauntered with an obvious swagger over to the driver’s side. The tiny car bounced and shimmied as, grunting and cursing, he contorted his large body to fit behind the wheel. “Damn.”
In spite of her determination not to look at him, she snuck a peek and bit back a giggle.
He was wedged into the seat, his long legs crammed on either side of the steering wheel, knees up by his chest. His head almost brushed the roof like a circus clown driving a child’s toy car.
He grinned, a matching set of dimples dancing in his lean cheeks. “I know. It’s a tight fit, but this baby’s a hybrid. She gets forty miles to the gallon.” Somehow, juggling his knees and the steering column, he managed to put the car into reverse, and they backed out of the driveway.
Her shoulder brushed against his, and she inched away, pressing against the passenger door’s hard vinyl, putting as much space as possible between them.
“So, where are we going?”
“Hector’s Casa.” She tried not to growl.
The car bounced over a pothole, and their shoulders rubbed together. A tremor of awareness sparked along her spine, and she jerked away, holding her body stiff.
“Why are we going to Hector’s?”
Hector’s Casa was a small, Mexican restaurant on the outskirts of town along the old highway. The restaurant was out of the way, but Marie had wanted to meet in the old diner, probably because no one was likely to see them. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Who?” His voice was level.
She hesitated, but realized she was being childish. After all, she was doing this for him. “Marie Faulkner.”
He glanced at her. One dark brow quirked.
“I want to ask her about the night Skye was murdered.”
His brows rose higher.
“I know.” She shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but she was at the party, and she might have seen something.”
He steered the car to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He studied her face. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to help me?”
“I really don’t know.” At the moment, she definitely regretted her decision.
“Well, this is not happening. It’s too dangerous. I won’t risk you getting hurt.”
“You won’t risk it? You don’t have a say in this. It’s my choice. I want to help.”
A pulse ticked in his jaw. “Why?”
The space inside the car shrunk, all the air sucked out. She closed her eyes. “I didn’t help you twelve years ago. I should have.” Opening her eyes, she stiffened.
His face was mere inches from hers. His features had softened, the lines of strain melting away until he was once again the boy she’d fallen in love with. His dark irises glowed with an inner fire.
Time slowed as she waited, frozen, locked in his torrid gaze, knowing what was coming; afraid, yet aching and desperate.
He lowered his head, and his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss.
Her lips softened, opening at his unspoken demand. She forgot they were stopped on the side of the road, and anyone driving by could see them. She forgot her hurt and anger and focused on his taste and touch. The kiss deepened. The snick of her seatbelt release vaguely registered, and then she was in his arms.
He clasped her closer still until she was on top of him, her hips straddling his. His smell, the heat radiating from him, were familiar, yet excitingly different. The last time they’d embraced he’d been a boy, all lean muscle and bone. Now her eager hands found a man’s body, muscles honed by years of hard work and determination.
A horn blared and reality intruded like a splash of icy water. She wrenched away, her face flaming. Scrambling back to her side of the car, she fumbled to re-buckle her seat belt.
He chuckled. “Apparently, finding enough room to make out is a serious glitch with this model.” He pointed to where his knee jammed the horn. “It’s a mighty tight squeeze.” He fought to free his long legs.
His struggles would have been comical if her heart weren’t racing. “This…us…this…can’t happen.”
His gaze met hers and slid away. “Why not?”
Yes, why not? She studied his rugged face and soft lips. Heat coursed through her, but then she remembered Bonnie. She was why. “I’m going back to Seattle in a few days. I have a life there, one that doesn’t include Cooper’s Ridge or you.”
Minutes ticked by. His gaze roamed over her face as i
f he were searching beneath the surface for answers. Without a word, he started the car and pulled away from the curb. His face was closed, his mouth tight. If this were a cartoon, steam would be rising from his ears.
But it wasn’t a cartoon, and it wasn’t funny. Nothing about the situation was the least bit humorous. Silence hung heavy for the remainder of the drive to the restaurant. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop the trembling and froze. Her lip was tender and swollen as if his kisses had seared her skin.
They arrived at Hector’s Casa, and he steered the tiny car into the lot and turned off the engine. “I’ll wait here for you. Marie will be more likely to talk if I’m not there.”
“Okay.” Her voice was a thin waver. As she crossed the parking lot to the front door of the restaurant, a tremor of awareness prickled along her spine. She didn’t have to look to know he watched her. Every cell in her body tingled with the heat of his gaze.
The mouth-watering aroma of chiles, salsa, and cilantro assailed her when she opened the door to the small restaurant and stepped inside. The place hadn’t changed. Dust-covered sombreros and colorful piñatas hung on the white, plaster walls. Tired centerpieces of faded, plastic, red flowers decorated each table. Mariachi music played from hidden speakers.
It was too early for the lunch crowd, and the place was quiet. Marie was the only customer. She sat in the back corner of the restaurant at a table almost hidden behind a large, brightly colored, ceramic pot and drooping, plastic fern. A teapot and cup and saucer were on the table in front of her.
Carrie Ann hurried over. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I thought you weren’t coming. I was just about to leave.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Carrie Ann’s smile fell flat in the face of Marie’s scowl.
Marie hadn’t changed since high school. Her long, straight, blonde hair, parted in the middle, framed her angular face. Cornflower-blue eyes, surrounded by artfully applied layers of varying shades of eye shadow, examined Carrie Ann. She held a set of car keys in one hand, drumming them on the scarred, wooden tabletop.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Carrie Ann said over the jangle of the keys.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to.”
“Why not?”
Marie bit her lip, and the keys rattled on the table, picking up speed. “People are saying you and Declan are together again and that’s why you’re back in town.”
“They’re wrong.”
“He was never cleared of Skye’s murder.” Marie frowned. “He’s still the prime suspect. You should be careful.”
“I told you, we’re not together. Our relationship was over a long time ago.” Was it? Her face heated as she remembered the kisses they’d shared mere minutes earlier.
“I heard no one will talk to you. They don’t want to help a murderer.”
Carrie Ann placed her hand over Marie’s, silencing the incessant clatter of keys. “But you’re here.”
“You and me.” Marie shrugged. “We were friends. I haven’t forgotten.”
Carrie Ann squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
Two bright spots of color rose in Marie’s rouged cheeks, and she smiled wistfully. “It’s been a long time. A lot has changed. I married Tommy Salston right out of high school. We have three kids now.” She patted her swollen belly. “And another one on the way.”
“Congratulations.” Carrie Ann fought back her dismay. Tommy Salston, really? He’d been captain of the basketball team and a class-one bully in high school. He’d made Sheldon’s life miserable with his constant teasing and insults. She couldn’t remember the number of times Tommy and Declan had come to fisticuffs.
As if reading her mind, Marie said, “Tommy’s changed, you know. He’s not like he used to be. He grew up. Like we all did.”
Carrie Ann nodded, hoping her friend was right.
“So, what about you?” Marie asked.
“Me?”
Marie sipped her tea and watched Carrie Ann with bright, inquisitive eyes. “Tell me, what’s going on with you these days? Are you married? Do you have any kids?”
Carrie Ann licked her dry lips. This was why she’d never come back—too many questions. Questions she was determined not to answer. “I’m not married, and I don’t have any children. Not yet.” Her cheeks heated at her lie.
“You’d better get at it.” Marie pointed a finger. “The old, biological clock is ticking. We’re not getting any younger.”
Carrie Ann forced a smile and changed the subject. Time to get to the point of this reunion before Marie asked any more probing questions. “You know why I asked to meet you?”
“You said you wanted to prove Declan didn’t murder Skye.”
Carrie Ann nodded.
“Why?”
“Because he’s innocent.”
“How can you be so sure? The sheriff thinks he’s guilty. So does pretty well everyone else.”
“I know him. He could never hurt anyone.”
Marie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
Carrie Ann’s breath burst out in a gasp, but before she could deny Marie’s claim and tell her how ridiculous it was, the waitress appeared and asked what she wanted. Glad for the distraction, she took her time perusing the menu and ordered a coffee.
Marie asked for more hot water, and the waitress left.
They were silent while they waited for her to return with their order. The question Marie had asked Carrie Ann hung in the air like a phantom.
Once her coffee arrived, Carrie Ann picked up her cup and sipped the steaming brew. The coffee was good, strong and dark. She blew out an exasperated breath. “Look, I already told you. Declan and I are not together. I’m helping him, that’s all. I can’t stand by and watch an innocent man be accused of something he didn’t do.”
Marie still didn’t look convinced.
Carrie Ann tried again. “As soon as this is over, I’m going back to Seattle. Declan and I will never see each other again.”
Marie eyed her for several long seconds. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“You were at the party at Rankin’s farm after the prom, weren’t you?”
Marie nodded. “I went with Tommy. It was our first date.”
“Did you see Skye?”
“She and Declan and a group of other kids were standing around the fire drinking and goofing around. Tommy and I joined them. Skye was pissed. Declan was drinking from a big bottle of whiskey, which was odd because I didn’t think he drank. At least, I’d never seen him drink before.”
“He didn’t drink because of what alcohol did to his father.”
Marie rattled the keys on the table again, but as if aware of how annoying the clanging was, she stopped and stuffed them in her coat pocket. “Everyone was drinking, dancing, and having a great time, except Skye and Declan. He looked awful.” She sized up Carrie Ann. “You guys had just broken up. I guess he was pretty upset.”
Carrie Ann nodded.
“Skye was plain pissed off. She knew he was pining over you, and she didn’t like it. I don’t blame her. He pretty well ignored her all night. I’d have been furious if Tommy had tried that shit with me.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Mind you, I wasn’t paying much attention to them, or anyone else. I was too busy trying to impress Tommy.”
“Did you notice what time Skye left the party?”
“The police asked me the same question when they interviewed me after her body was found in the woods. I didn’t see her leave.” She met Carrie Ann’s gaze and shrugged. “I drank too many beers. You know what it was like. We’d finally graduated, and we were all letting loose. We were crazy.”
Something in the way Marie phrased her response twigged at Carrie Ann. “Are you sure you didn’t see Skye leave? Think. It’s important.”
Marie chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“What?” Carrie Ann sat forward on her chair, hope flaring.
“I�
��m not sure. It was dark.”
“Come on, Marie, you have to tell me.”
Marie’s eyes took on a distant look as if she were seeing the party in her mind. “Tommy and I were leaving to go for a drive.” Her face flushed. “You know, we wanted to be alone.”
“But you saw something,” Carrie Ann persisted.
“Look,” Marie said, “I was pretty drunk, and I was really into Tommy. I wasn’t paying attention to much else. I’m not even sure the girl I saw was Skye. I didn’t mention seeing her to the sheriff because I wasn’t certain.”
“I’m not the sheriff. This isn’t a court of law. Tell me what you saw. Please.”
“A guy and a girl were hanging out by the cars. The girl might have been Skye. I’m not sure. She had long, straight, dark hair like Skye, but lots of girls wore their hair the same way then.”
“Who was with her, Marie?” Carrie Ann prodded. “Who was the man with Skye?”
Marie worried her bottom lip and looked anywhere but at Carrie Ann.
The urge to lunge across the table and grab Marie by the collar and shake her to make her tell what she’d seen was overwhelming. Carrie Ann squeezed her hands together and inhaled a steadying breath. “Marie, please.”
Marie lifted her cup and gulped tea. As if reaching a decision, she set the cup on the table, dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin, and faced Carrie Ann. “Sheldon Dubrowski.”
“Sheldon?”
“You can’t go to the sheriff with this,” Marie pleaded. “It was dark, and I was drunk. I might be wrong.”
“Did Tommy see Sheldon with Skye?”
Marie tapped her mouth with one red-tipped finger.
“Come on, Marie, please.”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. “I hate being pregnant. I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”
“Marie, please,” Carrie Ann urged. “What if it were Tommy? What if he were the one accused of a murder he didn’t commit? Wouldn’t you want someone to help him?” She took a deep breath. “Do you want whoever murdered Skye to get away with the crime?”