by Aiken, Ginny
“Wanna try that one again? I’ve never known you to tell a fib.”
“Well, I’ve never felt stressed. At least, not until this morning.”
Dena drew her glasses down her nose and peered at Cate over the rims. “How about those headaches you keep getting? And let me tell ya, that bottle of antacids on your bookshelf is not a decorative statement.”
“Everyone gets headaches and heartburn.”
“Yeah, but not constantly and not while virtually killing herself to prove all the gossips in town wrong.”
“I’m not doing that…am I?”
“Sure looks like it from where I’m standing.”
Was Dena right? Was Cate still fighting that old battle? Hadn’t she been able to forgive and move forward? What was she trying to prove? And to whom?
Well, the gossip had bothered her. And even though she hadn’t done so intentionally, she supposed she had doubled her efforts and worked to prove them wrong. She wanted to do right by the kids.
Cate sighed. This wasn’t the time to worry about that. She’d have to pray about it later. “Okay, Wise One. I’ll think about it and get back to you some other time. Right now, I have bigger things to think about.”
“Like your dad and the kids.”
Cate gestured toward the playroom. “And you guys—these kids and the three of you. I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to juggle everything, plus help Dad—”
The phone rang, interrupting Cate. She picked up. “Hello?”
“Cate? It’s Rand. I just got a call from Hal Benson. Remember the body they found in the basement of the theater?”
“As if I could have forgotten.” She mouthed a request for Dena to give her a minute and then sat in her desk chair.
No way was this a courtesy call.
After a few seconds of silence, Rand went on. “I realize it might seem strange for me to call you, but we feel you need to know.”
“Me?” A shiver ran up her back. “What exactly do you feel I need to know?”
“We just finished searching the scene. We found a photo album of yours in the basement. With the corpse’s belongings.”
FOUR
“Album? What album?”
“Your photo album lay right next to the body,” Rand repeated.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not missing a photo album.” He heard her take a deep breath. “And who is it that died?”
Hmm…she sounded confused. What was going on? Did she really not know about the album? “We don’t know yet. The body was too burned to ID at the scene. We’re waiting for an autopsy and probably even DNA testing to see who we’re dealing with.”
“So why would you say the album’s mine?”
“Because your name’s on the inside cover, and most of the photos are of you and a bunch of…your school friends.”
Cate paused at his references to her past and there was a brief, tense silence. Maybe he had come on a bit too strong, too judgmental. Even though they both knew she had nothing to brag about in that department, she probably didn’t need the constant reminders, much less an accusing tone of voice on his part. He’d have to rein himself in, be the professional he took pride in being.
She cleared her throat. “But I’m not missing any album, so I can’t imagine—”
“Trust me. There’s no way we could be mistaken. You were unique back then, and there’s no doubt it’s your name in the book.”
“You’ll understand if I ask to see it, right?”
He considered her request for a moment. “Fine. I’ll show you the album. Since I’m going to have questions for you, and the phone’s not the best way to handle this, why don’t we set up a meeting? I don’t think you want me to come over while your niece and nephews are around, any more than I figure you want to answer me while you’re at work.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness. How about we meet at Granny Annie’s Diner in about twenty minutes? I have time now to grab lunch and talk before I need to pick up the kids at school.”
“I’ll be there.”
As he gathered the album and left his office, Rand fought down the twinges of…what was it? He’d never felt anything like it before. He couldn’t quite call it excitement. He was investigating a fire—and a death—after all. Not exactly a fun experience. But then again, he couldn’t stop the image of Cate from bursting into his thoughts every few minutes.
He couldn’t deny it. He was looking forward to seeing her again. He wanted to see her reaction to the album. He wanted to see if she really seemed as surprised by it as she’d said. He hoped she was.
But what if she was some great actress? What if she turned out to be implicated in the meth lab? The fire? What would her guilt do to Joe? The twins and Lindsay?
A sick sense swam into his gut. Cate being guilty would destroy Joe.
And as much as the thought of her possible guilt disgusted Rand deep in his gut, that same gut kept telling him she was as innocent as she said. Why couldn’t he just accept his instincts, as he’d done in so many other investigations? Was it all about Cate?
Did he want her to be innocent because…well, because she was so attractive? Because he felt such a strong pull between them? Was he willing to consider that kind of relationship with Cate Caldwell?
He slammed the door to his silver SUV and turned the key in the ignition.
No way. He wasn’t ready to see Cate in that way. She was part of an investigation. And that was how he had to keep thinking of her. Period.
End of story.
On arriving, Rand tucked the album under his arm, and walked into Granny Annie’s Diner, a true fixture in Loganville. The moist warmth of the eatery, redolent of spices and roasting meats, made him think of family dinners and his aunts’ hugs when he stepped inside the front door. With nods and waves he greeted the regulars who called out his name as he walked down the main aisle. Granny Annie whooped when she saw him.
“Got me a fresh, new meatloaf just outta the oven here, Captain. Want me to make you up a platter?”
“Give me a couple of minutes. I’m meeting someone.”
“Just give me a holler, and I’ll serve you myself.”
One could always count on Granny. With a sweeping glance, he spotted an empty booth at the end of the left-hand row.
The diner door opened just as the older woman was disappearing into her domain, and Cate walked in. She greeted the proprietress, and then hurried down to meet Rand, Granny at her heels, order pad in the wrinkled hand.
“That meatloaf’s still waiting,” Granny said. “But so’s a super lasagna.”
Rand laughed. “You know me too well. Bring on the meatloaf, and don’t go stingy with the gravy, either.”
“Drowning, my man.” The older woman winked. “It’ll come drowning in the stuff, just the way you like it.”
“Same here,” Cate said, then slid deeper into the corner of the booth. “I see we’re both fans of Granny’s meatloaf.”
“Is there any better?”
“Haven’t found it yet.”
He waved vaguely. “There you have it. I found nothing like it while I was gone.”
After a brief, polite silence, Cate asked him what he thought of the changes the town had undergone since he’d left all those years ago.
“To someone who’s been away, they’re minor. Sure, I saw the new planters, the added age to the buildings on Main Street, and the two others that were built to replace the ones demolished. But it’s still Loganton—home.”
Granny zipped up to their table, white crockery plates piled high with fragrant food. “Enjoy!”
“Thanks!” Cate said.
Rand drew in an appreciative breath. “I intend to do just that.”
They ate for a couple of silent minutes, then Cate glanced up again. “Do you miss the excitement of your former career?”
Excitement? Stress and tension were more like it. But he wasn’t going to go into those details. Not with her. She
might ask why he’d left in the first place, and he didn’t want to revisit the accident that had affected both their lives. Instead, he focused on the present.
“How are the twins doing in school?” he asked. “They strike me as a handful.”
She arched a brow at his question-to-a-question answer, but went ahead and told him about Tommy and Robby’s fascination with bugs and rodents, and both boys’ talents on the soccer field.
A couple more attempts on her part to carry on a conversation gave a superficial sense of calm to the meal, but Rand couldn’t help noticing the nervous edginess she maintained the whole time. He realized it couldn’t be easy for her to eat with him. Besides, he’d heard many fire victims say how their lives took on a nightmarish, surreal quality after the event. On top of all that, because of what they’d found during their investigation of the basement, Cate’s father’s precarious condition wasn’t the only thing that could affect her and hers. The album…what would that discovery do to the present she seemed to have worked so hard to build on the ashes of her past?
While Rand would have expected her to feel like hiding from the painful memories and the many mistakes she’d made all those years ago, she’d gone to school, and then come home to the town full of memories. It seemed that over time she’d grown to where she preferred to face troubles head-on rather than dodge them. He had to admire that kind of guts.
Meals finished, he felt as ready to deal with whatever he was about to learn as he ever would be. And then he’d help Joe cope with the fallout.
He put down his napkin seconds after she did, but before he could ask his first question, she hit him with one of her own.
“Who’s the witness?”
“Can’t tell you. You know that—it’s an ongoing investigation.”
“But I’m not the usual Jane-on-the-street. That’s my father who almost died.”
“I still can’t tell you.”
She looked frustrated and there was nothing he could do about it. He wondered how her answers to his questions would strike him. The album—which she had yet to see—put her in a bad position. Well, there was nothing much she was going to say about it, not until he produced the book.
He studied her for a few more seconds than gave a nod. He dipped his hand below the tabletop to the bench at his side, and then brought up the ziplock plastic bag, its contents charred. “Take a look.”
Being right didn’t feel all that great, especially when Rand saw her wince as she caught a glimpse of the burnt item. A pained expression distorted her pretty features. She remembered the album.
She took a deep breath. “You were right. It was mine. But I haven’t seen it in years. Can’t even remember the last time I saw it…sometime shortly before Mandy and Ross died.” She shuddered. “But it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have wanted to see it, no matter what. The memories—” She closed her eyes. “I don’t go out of my way to find reminders of how my stupidity led to the loss of two wonderful lives.”
He studied her for a moment, then surprise struck him. Grief and remorse. How unexpected…in the Cate he remembered. But, as she said, this was a new Cate. “You’re still beating yourself up about those deaths, aren’t you?”
She tipped her head and met his gaze. “I was the one who insisted on dating Sam. I knew what he was, but I found his flaws an irresistible lure, and don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. All I can say is that danger equaled excitement, and Sam got a rise out of Mom and Dad—two pluses. That rebellious conflict cost us a huge part of our family.”
He weighed her response. So the teenaged flake had developed some depth. Unexpected though the discovery was, he found it appealing. Contrition went a long way. Even if she might be carrying it a bit far. He rapped the table with his knuckles, looked up and met her gaze. He sighed. “Sam’s the one who chose to drink, Cate. You had nothing to do with that.”
Surprise widened Cate’s eyes. “Look, I’m the one who chose to go out with him. And I know it.”
A wave of tenderness swept over him at her admission of responsibility. He felt the urge to cover her hand with his, but he refrained. This was business, not a date.
Or was it?
He shook himself and got right back to his point. “That still didn’t relieve him of the responsibility to drive sober. You were sober. I remember reading the newspaper reports. It surprised a lot of people when your blood alcohol level came back at zip.”
“Don’t go making me out to be more righteous than I was. Back then I joined in on the drinking often enough. I was clean that day because he’d just picked me up.”
Again, admiration tried to rise. He fought to keep it at bay. “But you never developed a problem.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Not for any abundance of virtue.”
He fell silent again, staring at the coffee spoon he’d picked up. “Sounds to me as though you’re still wearing a coat of borrowed guilt. You might want to return it to its rightful owner.”
Cate tipped up her chin. “I take responsibility for my actions. And I did spend some years back then rebelling in the worst way. It’s only by God’s unending grace that I didn’t end up either needing serious rehab or in a morgue.”
“That’s a stark self-evaluation.”
“It’s a realistic assessment of my sins.”
“Sin…” He shook his head. “Don’t know much about sin. I think it’s more a matter of bad choices.”
“Wrong choices made while I knew what God expected of me. Sounds like plain-vanilla sin to me.”
He stirred the dregs of his coffee with the spoon. “I’m sure you remember what’s in those pictures—lots of them feature you and Sam. Have you heard from him lately?”
Cate shrugged. “Last time I talked to him was seconds before the accident. I never said a word to him after that. I had nothing to say.”
He tapped the table in a dull rhythm. Then he met her gaze. “No contact at all, huh?”
She leaned forward. “You have to understand where I’m coming from. I turned my back on everything I did that hurt my God, my family and myself the night my sister died. I wanted no contact with Sam after that. I’ve made something of my life in the years since. I’m not the same person I once was. I’d never have anything to do with a meth lab.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to.” She stood and slipped her purse onto her shoulder. “Your questions did all the talking for you. But come on. You don’t really think I left that album in the basement of the theater, do you?”
Something deep within him urged him to set her mind at ease, to reassure her. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the evidence to clear her. Regardless what his gut was telling him.
When he didn’t respond, fear crossed her face. Then she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “Well, Rand—Captain Mason, let me assure you I had nothing to do with the lab or the fire. And I have no idea how the album wound up where it did. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go to the hospital. I’d rather spend my days watching my dad sleep than rehashing the worst time of my life. I hope the album helps you figure out what happened. Keep it. I sure don’t want it.”
“I have to keep it, Cate. It’s evidence in what probably is a murder.”
She shivered visibly. “A murder I didn’t commit.”
Without giving Rand a chance to respond, she went to the register, paid and left. In her car, she tamped down her temper, prayed for calm, wisdom, discernment—peace, more than anything else, deep and abiding peace in spite of the situation.
She couldn’t really blame him for his questions. They’d been valid. It wasn’t his fault they’d hit her sweet spot.
In junior high, she became aware that drugs had come to Loganton, but at that time, only the outcasts were using. Then she went to high school. And met Sam.
In recent years, the town had seen a couple of busts and even some drug-related deaths. From the vantage point of a responsible aunt helping to raise three kids, she�
��d worried about it. She couldn’t stand the thought of any of that poison coming near one of her late-sister’s precious kids.
Cate shuddered and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. She’d felt compelled to do something about the situation, but she hadn’t known exactly what. A few months ago, after a drug bust in town, she’d received an unexpected offer, one that had planted a seed in her heart. If she accepted, it would mean she would have to take on even more responsibility than she already carried, but when the offer was made, she’d figured she’d have time to prepare. Now, as a parent—she’d effectively become one, thanks to the fire at the theater—she couldn’t stand by and let drugs continue to creep into Loganton. Not anymore.
She turned the key in the ignition then pulled out of the diner’s parking lot, headed for the high school. Once there, she walked across the almost-full parking lot to the massive glass front doors.
She buzzed and identified herself to the administration’s secretary, who moments later told her the man she’d come to see was due back in his office at any minute. Willing to wait, Cate walked down the empty hall, accompanied by the hushed murmur of teachers and students behind closed classrooms. She paused before a gleaming oak door, then sat in a nearby chair in the hall.
Alec Hollinger, Loganton High’s guidance counselor, and his wife Beth, had moved into the house next door two years earlier. Since then, he’d turned the school’s guidance and career department on its ear, doubled the number of graduates headed for college, become a member of the church, taken over its high school youth group leadership with his wife’s help, and had participated in the congregation’s many activities. The couple had also joined Cate, her dad, and the kids for numerous backyard soccer games and various barbecues.
Then he’d asked Cate to consider helping him with the teens at church once his pregnant wife delivered the triplets she carried. Four weeks ago, however, Beth was admitted to a hospital in Charlotte due to complications. During the Hollingers’ tenure, the group had grown enough that Alec had split the kids into girls and guys for the sake of better management and more one-on-one ministry.