by Gina Wilkins
Aware that every eye in the place was focused on him, Sam thanked Justine for summoning him, then curiously approached the officers, who waited just inside the doorway. Had Serena already talked to Dan? Surely she wouldn’t have done so without waiting for him. “Is there something I can do for you, officers?”
“You’re Sam Wallace?” the taller of the two men inquired.
He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so he merely nodded.
“We’d like to request that you accompany us to the police station. Chief Meadows would like to speak to you.”
Frowning, Sam looked from one impassive face to the other. “Mind if I ask what this is about?”
The officers exchanged a glance, and then the same one replied, “The chief wants to ask you some questions concerning a crime that was committed last night.”
“The arson or the break-in?” Sam asked in resignation. Apparently, the anonymous accuser had been busy again. This was just what he needed today.
“Please come with us, Mr. Wallace.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, sir. The chief would simply like to ask you some questions at this point. He sent us to escort you because he’s aware that you lack transportation.”
“Is there a problem here, Sam?” Marjorie looked concerned as she joined them, her gaze darting from Sam to the police officers.
“Looks like I’m going to have to take the rest of the day off, Marjorie,” he told her. “It’s nothing to worry about. Dan just wants to ask me some questions.”
“Has he found a lead on the men who beat you up?”
Sam shot a warning look at the cops. “I’m not sure. I suppose he’ll tell me what it’s about when I get there. He sent these two gentlemen to give me a lift.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her for the moment. “Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” she said. “I hope Dan has some good news for you.”
“Er, thanks.” Sam turned toward the exit. “Shall we go, officers?”
One of them opened the door and led the way out. The other followed closely at Sam’s heels. Sam didn’t remember if he’d ever been arrested, but he had a feeling it would feel very much like this.
The police station was in the newer part of town, several miles from the diner. The ride was made in near silence, the officers making little attempt at conversation and Sam having nothing in particular to say. Upon arrival, he was taken directly to Dan’s office, where Dan waited behind an oak desk. “Not a bad police station for such a small town,” Sam commented as he entered.
Dan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he waved Sam into one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk. “It’s only two years old. The old police station was crumbling around our ears.”
Sam glanced at the two officers who’d followed him in. “Thanks for sending the car, by the way. Very thoughtful of you.”
Dan glanced at his subordinates, apparently sending them silent orders. They left without comment, leaving the door open behind them.
“Very well trained for small-town cops,” Sam drawled approvingly.
The hint of sarcasm did not pass over Dan’s head. He gave Sam a look, but said only, “One of them is my cousin. The other is the mayor’s nephew. You can save the nepotism jokes until later.”
Deciding they’d danced around long enough, Sam leaned forward in his seat and looked directly into the chief’s eyes. “What’s this about, Dan?”
Dan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck. “I suppose you heard we had another eventful night.”
“A probable arson and a pawnshop robbery. I heard. Let me guess—you’ve had another anonymous phone call about me.”
“Not this time.” Dan opened a bottom drawer on his desk. “This time I’m afraid we have some evidence.”
“What are you talking about?”
Tossing a plastic bag on the desktop, Dan asked somberly, “Does that look familiar to you?”
The bag held the cap Dan had given Sam. “Where did you get that?”
Dan’s expression was grim when he answered. “It was found under a counter in the pawnshop this morning, beside a couple of items the thief apparently dropped on his way out.”
Sam was shaking his head before Dan even finished speaking. “Uh-uh. No way. I wasn’t there, Dan.”
The chief only looked at him, his stern face unrevealing.
“Surely you don’t believe I had anything to do with the pawnshop robbery.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Sam, I’m not so sure what to believe about you right now. There are too many things about you that just don’t add up. Now you’ve been linked to two burglaries. Sure, the anonymous call seemed suspicious, but now—well, this is the cap I gave you.”
“It’s my cap,” Sam conceded, “but I wasn’t wearing it last night.”
“When was the last time you remember seeing it?”
Sam tried to think. So much had happened during the past twenty-four hours. “Yesterday afternoon. I was wearing it after work.”
“You visited the pawnshop?”
“No. I stopped by the library for a couple hours, then just walked around downtown for a while. Then the SUV almost hit me and I…” He frowned. “It must have fallen off then.”
“Yes, I heard about that. Red Tucker’s convinced someone tried to kill you yesterday.”
“Red has a vivid imagination,” Sam reminded Dan as he tried to remember whether he’d seen the cap after diving out of the vehicle’s path. Things had gotten pretty hectic then—Red had rushed up to him, then taken him home, there’d been the tell-all discussion with Serena and then the rest of the night. Was it any wonder the cap had been the last thing on his mind?
“We’ll talk about that near miss in a minute. Right now, I’d like to know where you were around four this morning.”
In paradise, Sam could have answered, but what he said was, “I was in bed.”
“And there’s no way you can prove that, I suppose.”
“Actually, there is,” Serena said from the doorway. “I was with him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Suppressing a sigh, Sam turned in his chair to look at Serena. Since it was well before the time when they’d agreed to meet here, he could only assume that someone—probably Marjorie—had called her. And now she was here, a combative set to her jaw, a gleam of temper in her eyes as she glared at Dan. He had a feeling that all hell was about to break loose in the chief’s office.
Dan must have thought he’d misunderstood Serena’s words. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t yell at Hazel for not announcing me—I told her you were expecting me.” Serena walked briskly into the room, looking every inch the lawyer in her emerald green business suit, her hair pinned into a twist at the back of her head. “What’s going on here, Dan? Why did two uniformed officers pick Sam up at the diner? Couldn’t whatever you wanted to talk to him about have waited until after he finished his shift to save him from the possible embarrassment of gossip and speculation?”
“My reasons are between me and Sam—unless you’re here as his counsel?”
“Does he need an attorney?” she asked coolly.
“Dan thinks he has evidence that I robbed the pawnshop last night,” Sam informed her. “The cap he gave me was found under a counter there this morning.”
“Nonsense.” Serena sank gracefully into the chair beside Sam’s. “Dan’s not stupid enough to believe you’d pull a stunt like that, no matter what circumstantial evidence he found.”
Dan scowled. “Damn it, Serena.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I was merely stating my confidence in your intelligence. I’m sure you won’t do or say anything to change my opinion.”
“This is the second break-in in two days Sam’s been connected to,” he argued. “I would really lack intelligence—not to mention professional competence—if I failed to follow up on that.”
“The only connection Sam had to the first break-in was an accusa
tory phone call from someone who wouldn’t even give you a name. This time you have a cap, but Sam has an alibi—me.”
Dan cleared his throat. “The pawnshop was most likely robbed sometime between three and four this morning. Sam claims he was in bed at that time.”
Serena met his eyes steadily. “He was. And I was with him from about midnight to just before dawn. He didn’t leave the guest house and he did not rob the pawnshop.”
Looking suddenly uncomfortable, Dan shuffled papers on his desk. “Er—”
“Look at me, Dan Meadows,” Serena ordered, sounding to Sam rather amusingly like her mother. “Do you really think I would lie to protect someone who could be involved in a crime?”
He gave a heavy sigh. “No. If you say he was with you, then I have no choice but to believe you.”
“Exactly. I’ve never lied to you before, and I’m not doing so now. Sam wasn’t involved—and I’m frankly amazed that you ever had any doubts about that.”
Dan scowled. “Well, what was I supposed to think when I found the cap I gave him under a pile of evidence?”
“If you’d used your head, you’d have realized that someone was trying to falsely implicate him—first with an anonymous phone call and now with planted evidence.”
“You make that sound like a perfectly reasonable conclusion to jump to.”
“It’s so obvious.” Waving a hand to dismiss any other possibility, Serena turned to Sam. “When did you lose the cap?”
“Probably when I jumped out of the way of that SUV on Main Street yesterday. I’m pretty sure I was wearing the cap before, but I don’t remember seeing it afterward.”
“So when Red helped you into his truck and brought you home, the cap was left lying on the sidewalk.”
“Apparently.”
“So anyone could have picked it up and carried it with them into the pawnshop during the night.”
He nodded.
“Do you remember anyone who witnessed the incident, other than Red?”
He frowned. “Yeah. Delbert Farley was there. I was actually on my way across the street to speak to him when I heard the SUV.”
When Serena’s eyes widened, he held up a admonitory hand. As much as he disliked Farley, he was reluctant to cast aspersions without evidence—unlike whoever was trying to implicate him. “As you just pointed out, anyone could have found the cap.”
But Serena had whirled to face Dan again. “How closely have you looked at Farley? What are the odds he’s involved in those break-ins?”
“You think that possibility hasn’t occurred to me?” Dan was beginning to sound rather peevish. And then he rubbed his temple. “I’ll look again.”
“I think you should. And now that we’ve cleared up any doubt of Sam’s innocence,” she added firmly, “there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Dan glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to make it quick. I’ve got an arson and a break-in to investigate—and those on top of the workload left over from yesterday.”
“This isn’t going to make your day any better,” Sam predicted resignedly.
Dan muttered what might have been a curse beneath his breath. “Am I going to need a cup of coffee for this?”
“You might well need a stiff drink for this,” Sam replied.
Dan groaned and punched a button on his desk intercom. “Hazel, do we have any fresh coffee out there?”
“Just made a pot. How many cups do you need?”
“Three,” he replied when Serena and Sam nodded in response to his questioning look. And then he leaned back in his chair, drew an exaggeratedly deep breath and said, “Okay. Let me have it.”
Serena was exhausted by the time she prepared for bed that evening. It had been a very long day after a near-sleepless night. Not that she lamented the lack of sleep. She knew she should be castigating herself for giving in to her hormones last night—but she couldn’t seem to work up any genuine regret. Last night had been one of the more memorable experiences of her life. How could she regret that?
She stepped to her bedroom window, looking out at the guest house. There were no lights burning in the windows. Maybe Sam was getting some sleep. It had been a very long day for him, too.
The meeting with Dan had been as difficult as she and Sam had predicted. Dan had been stunned and then steamed that Sam had concealed his amnesia behind a made-up tale of a mugging. Serena had reminded Dan that Sam had acted while still confused, disoriented and in pain, barely accountable for his actions. After dryly reminding Serena that she wasn’t arguing a case in front of a jury, Dan had promised to get started immediately on the search for Sam’s real identity.
Serena had driven Sam to Dr. Frank’s clinic after they left the police station. She’d called to set up an appointment. After hearing what the problem was, Dr. Frank had immediately agreed to work Sam into his already busy schedule. Like Dan, the doctor had reprimanded Sam for keeping quiet, this time for medical reasons. He had done a very thorough examination and then had set up appointments with specialists in Little Rock for Monday, pulling every string he had to get Sam in that quickly. He’d seemed encouraged that Sam was having flashes of memory and dreams that seemed meaningful, but he was obviously concerned that the extensive memory loss had lasted so long.
“He seemed to believe me,” Sam had told Serena on the way home.
“Well, of course he believed you. Why wouldn’t he?”
Though Sam hadn’t come up with an answer, he still seemed bemused by the doctor’s acceptance of his peculiar tale.
Marjorie’s first reaction to hearing about Sam’s amnesia had been exactly what Serena had expected. She’d been horrified, certain that Sam was suffering from a terrible injury that put him in imminent danger of dying. Sam and Serena had assured her that Dr. Frank had pronounced him in generally good health, considering everything.
Even though Sam had apologized profusely for deceiving her, Marjorie hadn’t seemed to find his repentance necessary. “I’m just sorry,” she had said, “that you’ve had to go through this alone. I wish you’d felt comfortable sharing it with us, but of course we were strangers to you. You needed time to grow comfortable with us.”
Serena could tell that Marjorie’s warm sympathy only made Sam feel guiltier. Since she thought a little guilt was justified, Serena had remained quiet. He really should have leveled with them sooner, even though she understood him well enough now to know why he hadn’t.
Marjorie had insisted that Sam stay for dinner. If she’d noticed the long, expressive looks Serena and Sam had exchanged during the meal, she’d given no sign of it.
It had been Marjorie who’d commented on how tired Sam looked after dinner, pointing out the dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look around his mouth. “You’ve been worrying too much and trying too hard to regain your memories. You need to get some sleep. And take tomorrow off if you’d like to sleep in,” she added.
Serena hadn’t been surprised when Sam immediately rejected that offer. “I have to be gone Monday,” he said. “I’ll be at work tomorrow.”
Marjorie hadn’t argued. Like Serena, she’d learned to recognize when Sam had made up his mind.
Marjorie had seemed to want to talk after Sam left, but Serena had also claimed exhaustion and made her escape. She needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while. She needed to try to sort out her emotions—not that she was making much headway. Perhaps because she was a bit afraid to define her emotions where Sam was concerned.
She hoped he was able to sleep. She wasn’t. She was too aware of Sam sleeping in the guest house. She would love to be with him now, to sleep in his arms again. But it was just as well she wasn’t there, she tried to convince herself. She wouldn’t want to get used to being with him when she knew that he could be gone at any time.
She was about to turn away from the window when her attention was caught by a shadowy movement in the rose garden. She looked closer and saw Sam standing there looking at her window, his face just v
isible in the glow of the security lights.
Stay where you are, Serena.
He looked lonely, she thought, resting a hand against the window.
Don’t do it, Serena. Quit while you’re ahead.
He didn’t sit on the swing. He just stood there, gazing at her—and she knew he saw her looking at him. She told herself he wasn’t really sending her a silent invitation—but she knew he was. And then she told herself that, even if he was, she didn’t have to accept—but she knew better than that, too.
She turned away from the window, but only to move toward the door. If she was going to have regrets eventually, she might as well follow Sam’s advice and make them worthwhile.
They overslept. Had the rising sun not glinted in Serena’s eyes, they might have slept until noon without stirring. She sat up with a gasp, her eyes turning instantly to the clock on the nightstand. “Oh, cripes.” She started to roll out of the bed.
Sam’s arm fell over her, holding her in place. “What’s the rush?”
“It’s almost six. Mother will be leaving for the diner in half an hour.”
He nuzzled her cheek, his morning beard scratchy against her skin. “Think she’s noticed you’re missing yet?”
“No. I sometimes sleep in on Saturdays. My bedroom door is closed, so she probably thinks I’m still in bed.”
“She’s right, isn’t she?” His lips grazed her collarbone. “You’re just not in your bed.”
“Sam, be serious.” She tried to sound stern, though she tilted her head to give him better access to her throat. Her fingers speared into his thick golden hair. “She’s going to be expecting you to meet her at the car, as you do every morning. You’re the one who told her you intend to work today.”
Planting a chain of kisses from her throat to her breastbone, he murmured, “It doesn’t take me long to get ready.”
“If you’re late, she’ll worry and come looking for you.”
“I won’t be late.” His mouth was warm and damp against her nipple, almost clearing her mind of coherent thought.
Her fingers tightening reflexively in his hair, she made a determined effort to concentrate. “I’ll wait here until after you and Mother leave for the diner, and then I’ll slip back into the house. With any luck, Mother will never realize I wasn’t there all night.”