by Karen Fenech
“Does Beth have any friends in town?” Clare asked. “Someone she might have confided in?”
Gladys dabbed the tissue to her cheeks. “She was a popular girl in school. Had lots of friends. Patty Burby was her best friend.” Gladys smiled. “Couldn’t separate those two with a team of wild horses.”
Patty Burby. Clare committed the name to memory.
Clare wanted to ask Gladys about Beth’s childhood, about her likes and dislikes. She wanted to hear stories of Beth that only a mother would know. Gladys was the one person in the world, other than Beth herself, with whom Clare could speak of her sister without inhibition. She wanted to know everything about her sister, but it would have to wait. She had other places to go.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Linney,” Clare said.
“Clare . . . if you find my Beth, will you come back and tell me she’s all right?”
Clare nodded. “I will.”
She let herself out of Gladys’s room and made her way down the hall. A small woman pushed a mop across the floor. The sharp tang of disinfectant wafted on the air. Clare was glad to note that the pastor had been wrong about Gladys’s feelings toward Beth. Her love for Beth was apparent.
Clare wondered what time the grocery store closed for the day. She wanted to go there and find out what she could about the trucker Beth left town with. She also planned to speak with Patty Burby.
Clare pushed through the glass door into bright sunlight. She shielded her eyes with the back of one hand and with the other, reached into her purse dangling from her shoulder, digging for sunglasses. A man was walking across the parking lot toward her. A trick of the light, he looked like . . .
“Jake.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken his name aloud until she heard it.
He was close enough to have heard as well, though he didn’t speak. His eyes, narrowed against the sun, fixed on her with an intensity she remembered all too well.
Too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t too late to walk away, though. She wanted to walk away, really wanted to, and because she did forced herself to stay put and meet his gaze.
Jake now stood in front of her, blocking the sunlight. Clare lowered her hand. His chin was at her eye level. He hadn’t shaved. Black beard shadowed his jaw, made his tanned skin look darker.
The last time she’d seen him, from the other side of her bed, he’d looked a little pale. Tired from working too hard. Tired from going another ten rounds with her.
That was three years ago. He didn’t look to be suffering from sleepless nights anymore. He looked rested and fit. The blue T-shirt he wore over jeans showed his hard, tough body. Was he still with the Bureau? If so, by his casual attire, he wasn’t working today.
“I could say the obvious ‘small world,’” Jake said.
It had been big enough for her until a moment ago. But in response, she said only, “Must be.”
In the awkward silence, a group of women in hospital uniforms dashed by, causing a slight breeze that smelled strongly of spicy perfume.
Jake cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me the Bureau’s sent you to make sure I’m not lazing my days away fishing?”
He said it with a smile, an obvious attempt at lightness. Clare didn’t return the smile.
“You’re assigned to the Columbia office?”she said.
“Resident office in Farley, actually.”
That surprised her. After they’d stopped seeing each other, Jake had put in for a transfer out of the New York office. They’d been members of the same squad for a time and had been paired off. Working together after things ended had strained them both. Jake was very good at what he did and had earned the commendations to prove it. He could have aimed a lot higher than Farley. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t.
She didn’t know where he’d gone—didn’t want to know—but she would never have imagined him choosing Farley. He was a city boy. She wouldn’t have figured he would come here voluntarily. He must have been desperate to create distance between them for him to accept this post.
“Just me, one other agent, and an admin assistant,” Jake went on. “How about you? What brings you to our fair town?”
When she’d known him, she’d never mentioned Katie. On the nights he’d stayed at her apartment, she’d stored her cork board and files on her sister in a closet. She had no reason not to tell him about Katie at this time. Her being in Farley and the reason for it was likely climbing the town grapevine at lightning speed. But there was no reason to bring Katie up to him now, when she hadn’t before.
“Vacation,” she said simply.
He heard the lie. The humor in Jake’s gaze vanished and in an instant his gaze grew razor sharp.
“I recall you had a preference for sand and surf,” he said.
No doubt he was referring to the one brief getaway they’d taken together—a spur-of-the-moment jaunt following a particularly grueling assignment. They’d both been wound tight. He’d asked her where she’d like to go.
White sand beach. A pounding surf. No one else around for miles.
Her words returned to her. The next morning, she’d awakened and found he’d packed her suitcase and had found the perfect place for them to go. She didn’t care for the reminder of how perfect it had been between them once.
“Not this time,” she said. “Good-bye, Jake.”
Before he could say anything further, Clare walked away from him.
Chapter Five
Clare forced herself not to run through the nursing facility’s parking lot. Regardless, she was panting by the time she got back to her car, and her heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
All because she’d seen Jake.
She felt battered, bruised. She inhaled a deep breath, then released it slowly as she struggled to pull herself together.
Special Agent Jacob Sutton had come into her life at a time when the two things that mattered to her most—finding her sister and doing her job—were going wrong. Her best efforts to solve a series of brutal homicides had been unsuccessful. And a trail she’d been pursuing in the search for her sister had led to another dead end.
Jake had been assigned to work with her on the homicides. His assignment ended after the killer was apprehended, but that was only the beginning for them. They fell in love.
And then it was over. He walked away . . .
Recalling that time still brought pain. She would not go down that road. What she would do was forget she’d encountered Jake at all.
His being in Farley had nothing to do with her. She would be in town a few days and then be gone. It was unlikely she’d see him again while she was here. In fact, she’d make sure that she didn’t. She fumbled the car keys out of her purse. Next stop: the grocery store.
Clare parked in front of Dawson Foods. The closed sign hung on the inside of a glass door. She checked her watch. Two minutes after four o’clock. Store hours were posted beneath the sign. The store closed at four p.m. on Friday. She would have made it before closing time, if not for her run-in with Jake. Clare tamped down on her frustration. The store opened at eight o’clock on Saturdays. She intended to be the first customer.
She rolled her shoulders. A bone-deep weariness had set in. She’d planned on spending her first night in town at Beth’s and hadn’t arranged for accommodations. Connie’s Inn was obviously not an option.
She drove back to the gas station and searched the phone directory, this time looking for a local hotel or motel, but came up empty. Connie’s was the only inn in Farley. The next nearest accommodation was in Columbia. She wanted to be local to conduct her search, and not waste time commuting to and from there.
She recalled seeing a surplus store on Main Street. Maybe she could buy a tent there. Pitch it in the park right beneath the statue of Walter Farley. She was only half kidding. It was fast becoming apparent that she’d be spending the night in her car.
Flipping through the directory, she came across a listing for a
local realtor. Earl Lowney was the man’s name. She was going to have to look into renting a place for the next few days, if one could be found.
The realtor was on Main Street, operating out of the Army Surplus. A misprint, or did the surplus store also serve as the local realty? There was only one way to find out.
As Clare pulled out of the gas station, a man leaning against a convertible while he filled the tank gave her a wink and flashed a smile worthy of a toothpaste advertisement. Tall. Toned. Tanned. Square-jawed. Hair cut to look fashionably shaggy. The cop in her took in the details automatically, then she looked away without acknowledging him, and drove on.
She reached her destination and turned off the road, into one of the metered parking spots that lined the street. She dug a quarter out of her purse to feed the meter and turned off the engine. Again, as she left the car, the heat assaulted her. Perspiration broke out on her scalp and forehead. Dark clouds were rolling in from the west. Farley was in for some rain. Clare hoped it would relieve the heat.
Swiping the back of her hand across her brow, she crossed the sidewalk to the store. Inside, she blinked, adjusting to the sudden dimness. Several pole lamps gave off a soft glow. Light slanted in through a small opening between two thick orange curtains. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight. Clare smelled mold.
A man sat on a stool behind a cash register. He held a pencil over a crossword puzzle he’d placed on the glass counter. She looked around. It was just the two of them in the store.
Force of habit had her sizing up her environment and accounting for everyone in it. Growing up as she had, in other people’s houses, she’d honed that skill long before she’d joined the Bureau.
The man glanced up from the puzzle. His face was round with a small nose and small chin. His eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses, were the shape and soft brown of a Spaniel. They settled on her and he smiled. “How do?”
Clare saw recognition in his eyes. She had no doubt he’d noticed a familiarity about her, but chose not to comment on it. After her experience with the two women at the inn, and the people at the church, Clare had been braced for another strange encounter, rather than his pleasant greeting.
She relaxed her tensed posture and approached the counter. “Hello.”
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you in town. I’m Earl.” The man set the pencil down and held out his hand. “Earl Lowney.”
“Clare Marshall.” She shook Lowney’s hand.
“The way you talk, I’d say you’re not from anywheres near here, Clare.”
Clare had been born in Texas but had been moved north while in foster care and she no longer sounded like a native of the state she’d been born in.
“Minnesota,” she said.
“Welcome to Farley.” Lowney released Clare’s hand. “You’ll find it’s a real nice place for a vacation.”
Clare saw no reason to correct his assumption that she was a tourist.
“You take your time in here,” Lowney said. “Take a good look-see around. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Actually, there is. I read in the phone book that you’re a realtor. I’m looking for a place to rent.”
Lowney scratched his chin. The skin was smooth, like a young boy’s, and looked baby-soft.
“That’s me,” Lowney said. “I help you buy ’em. I help you sell ’em. Not any call though to help you rent ’em. Sorry. There’s an inn a ways up here.”
“It’s not going to work out there.”
Lowney winced. “Connie wasn’t partial to you, I take it. You looking the way you do, like her brother’s wife.”
“You know the Ryders?”
“Surely do. Farley’s got two-thousand-four-hundred-ninety-six people at last count. Don’t believe there are too many folks I don’t know.” Lowney’s chest puffed out, stretching the buttons on his striped shirt. “Dean Ryder, why he’s a genuine war hero. A marine who served our country in the Gulf War, saved his platoon from an ambush. He got hurt himself, ending his military career, but lucky for us, he came back and joined the Columbia Police Force where he can protect us all. If you don’t know Dean Ryder, you don’t know Farley.”
Lowney was obviously a fan of Ryder’s. Clare nodded at the biography of Beth’s husband. “Maybe I could rent one of the properties you have for sale? It would be short term and if the owners get an offer, I’ll certainly leave.”
Lowney tapped a pudgy finger against his lips briefly. “Well, come to think on it, I got a place you could rent for the next little while. I inherited my uncle Chester’s place. It’s on a nice plot of land. I go out regularly to check on things and since I’m looking to sell, haven’t shut off the water and electrical. We could go take a look now if you like.”
Lowney was obviously eager, and just as obviously trying to conceal that he was. Clare had a feeling the place was going to leave much to be desired. What Lowney didn’t realize was that the condition of the house didn’t matter to her. She just wanted a post from which to conduct her search.
“Sounds good, Mr. Lowney. Let’s go take a look.”
* * * * *
The house was situated at the edge of town. Following Lowney, Clare watched the distances between the houses grow. She hadn’t seen another house for several miles and was beginning to wonder if she wouldn’t be just as well served commuting from a hotel in Columbia when he turned onto a narrow, dirt road.
There was only this one house on the long road, a copy of an antebellum that had seen better days. Lowney parked in the driveway. Clare parked beside him.
“Uncle Chester was a cotton farmer,” Lowney said.
Clare followed the direction of the finger he pointed. A large crop was planted in a field on the east side of the house. That crop, though, now withered from neglect.
The house backed onto a swamp. Two glossy-leaved Magnolia trees grew along the ragged edge of the land, casting shadows across the still, murky water.
“Let’s take a look inside, Mr. Lowney,” Clare said.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later, she closed the front door on Lowney. He left, grinning, with a few of her endorsed traveler’s checks tucked in his shirt pocket. She was sure the man had been drooling as she’d handed them to him. The affable Lowney had turned into a shark when he scented the opportunity to exploit her and named a figure to rent his deceased relative’s house for a week that would let a Park Avenue apartment for a month.
Lowney had said the rent was not negotiable. Clare gave him a level look that had him shifting his feet, then signed the checks without a word. She knew she was being fleeced, and wanted him to understand that she knew. It went against the grain for her to allow herself to be taken advantage of, but she was going to go along with him anyway. It was either do so, or walk away and take a room in Columbia. Lowney had her, and they both knew it.
With a spring in his step, Lowney made his way back to his car. Clare considered slamming the door behind him, but she needed to leave it open. The storm brewing earlier had gained strength. A cool wind had blown in from somewhere, and would dispel the stale air inside the house. Clearly Lowney’s claim of coming out often to check on the place had been false. There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed the odor.
She opened the windows to the wind and along with a chill breeze, rain struck her face. An instant later, rain fell in a steady downpour. She shut then latched the windows. Reluctantly resigned, she also closed the door.