Shadows of the Past (Logan Point Book #1): A Novel

by Bradley, Patricia

  He released her and stepped back, amusement glinting in his eyes. “That remains to be discovered.”

  With a new awareness of Nick charging her senses, Taylor struggled for rhythm as they jogged toward home. Just before Kate’s drive, they slowed to a walk, and Nick took her hand. A car blew past them, creating a cooling breath of air. Another vehicle followed and a horn tooted as one of Ben’s deputies drove by. Taylor waved a thank-you.

  Nick squeezed her hand. “See you at the picnic?”

  “Five o’clock,” she reminded him.

  Taylor’s feet barely touched the ground as she jogged to her drive. The lyrics from a song about being loved every waking moment played in her head. The day stretched before her and with it the promise of seeing Nick again.

  Jonathan’s dark maroon pickup inched slowly toward her in the distance. Her gaze slid past the truck to Oak Grove, and the weathered old house cast a pall on her mood. He stopped and lowered the window as she came even with him.

  “Have a good run?”

  “I did.” She pulled the damp T-shirt away from her body as she glanced in the back of his truck. Several worn boards lay in the bed. “Been working up at the old house this morning?”

  He nodded. “Cleaning up some of the boards lying around.”

  “Wish you’d told me. I would’ve helped.” It would have been the perfect time to put her ghosts to rest.

  His bushy eyebrows came together in a frown. “Last time you helped me, you ended up in the emergency room with five stitches.”

  She’d forgotten that. “Why do you keep working on Oak Grove if you’re going to sell it?”

  “At first I was only cleaning it out, but one thing led to another, and I decided to replace a few boards, patch a few places in the walls.” He chewed his bottom lip. “I’m calling a meeting after the picnic. The contractor wants an answer.”

  “Come on, Jonathan. Let it rest this weekend. I need a little more time.”

  “So you’re not a definite no?”

  She couldn’t deny the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars tempted her, so she could honestly say yes. “Not definite.”

  A broad grin broke across his face. “Good enough for me. I’ll wait until Monday evening.”

  “Kate said you and Charlie go to the casinos. Is that why you want to sell? You’re in trouble?”

  The grin disappeared. “Kate needs to keep her mouth shut. I win more than I lose.”

  Taylor had read that line before in her research for graduate school. Compulsive gamblers, like all addicts, lived in denial. “Is Wayne Russo still doing investigative work?”

  His head jerked back. “Russo’s dead. You’re not still fooling around with James’s case, are you?” His mouth tightened. “You are. Taylor, don’t open this can of worms.”

  She looked away from his piercing eyes, toward Oak Grove. How could her uncle not want to find his brother? She straightened her shoulders and turned back to Jonathan. “I don’t understand why you’re so dead set against looking for him.”

  “I’m trying to spare you some pain. Your father doesn’t want to be found.” He slowly enunciated each word. “If he did, he would contact you.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Don’t be silly. And I don’t have time to fool with this now. Need to dump these boards and get some chairs your mama wanted.” Jonathan put his arm across the back of the truck seat and turned to look behind him as he shifted the truck into reverse.

  She fanned her T-shirt again. Her uncle was hiding something. Maybe he had helped her dad disappear. That would explain a lot. Slowly, she walked to the back door and embraced the cool air inside the kitchen. Her mom turned as she closed the door. “It’s getting hot out there,” Taylor said.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  She blinked at her mom. “What?”

  “Someone sent you a threatening note. Shot another woman to send you a message, and you’re out running the roads?” Her mom jerked a towel from the rack and scrubbed the already spotless table. “What were you thinking? I was almost ready to call Ben Logan.”

  Taylor swallowed the defense that sprang to her mind. “Ben had it covered and nothing happened.” Except Nick kissed her. “Might not have been my wisest decision, though. It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not.” Her mother popped open the oven and took out a pan of cinnamon rolls.

  Taylor’s mouth watered. “Those look so good.”

  “They’re not for you.” She set the pan on a trivet. “They’re for Abby. Chase has gone after her.”

  Abby. She wished her niece had another week at the camp. “Then I better get showered and dressed.”

  At the door, she remembered the reporter and turned back to her mother. “Did anyone contact you about a story on Dad?”

  Her mother gave her a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

  “I was talking with the lieutenant who investigated Dad’s disappearance. He indicated someone was writing a story about it.”

  “Why?” her mother demanded. “It’s been twenty years.”

  “People are fascinated with unsolved mysteries—it’s those television programs about cold cases.”

  A gasp caught in her mom’s throat as her hand flew to her chest.

  “Cold case, that’s what he called it,” she said slowly. “A reporter did phone about a month ago. I refused to answer his questions, other than to tell him we had gotten on with our lives. The newspaper can’t write about that without my permission, can they?”

  Taylor winced. “I’m afraid so, Mom. It’s a matter of public record.”

  For a second, her mom stared transfixed at Taylor, then like a fragile flower, she wilted. Taylor wrapped her arms around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Her mom pulled away, her face splotchy. “You were talking to the detective who investigated you father’s disappearance?”

  Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose. Talk about opening a can of worms. “Briefly. I should have waited until after the picnic to bring it up. Right now, I better go take a shower.” And check to see if someone used her computer to send Scott a text.

  An uncertain smile touched Mom’s lips. “Sure, but let’s do talk about this later, after the picnic is over.”

  “Sounds good.” Taylor hurried upstairs and flipped on the shower. She hadn’t meant to hurt her mom. Sometimes her single-minded focus made her insensitive to the feelings of others . . . something she obviously needed to work on. But she needed answers to the question of her father’s whereabouts, and they were locked away somewhere.

  Maybe Monday Lieutenant Wilson would know where to find the key.

  When Taylor opened her computer, Nick’s email was there. She opened the document and quickly scanned it. When she read the part about the text, she stopped and checked her sent folder, then the trash. Just as she expected, there was no text sent from her computer to Scott. But anyone smart enough to set him up would not leave evidence. She called Ben Logan and filled him in.

  “Can you get me the cell phone number this text was supposedly sent to?” the sheriff asked.

  “Why don’t I have his brother call you? His name is Nick Sinclair. And I’ll forward the email he sent me.”

  After she showered and dressed, Taylor descended the stairs, and a child’s voice filtered through the kitchen door. Her heart lifted. Abby was home. “Where’s my favorite niece?” she called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Aunt Tay!” Abby burst from the kitchen and jumped into Taylor’s outstretched arms.

  As a toddler Abby couldn’t say Taylor, and the Aunt Tay stuck. “I’ve missed you, pumpkin.”

  Abby’s answer was to wrap her arms around Taylor’s neck.

  Taylor nuzzled her hair, inhaling strawberry shampoo. “Did you have a good time?”

  “It was the best. I rode horses, and swam, and canoed, and my horse’s name was Buttermilk, and I’m going to ask Daddy for a pony.”


  Taylor laughed. Chase had been right about the horse. “Whew! Sounds like you did have fun. Hop down, and let’s see how much you’ve grown.”

  “I’ve grown two inches since we came to see you.” Abby slid to the floor, her curly blonde ponytail bobbing. Smaller than most eight-year-olds, she stood straight, trying to appear taller. The curls, the blue eyes, the freckles peppering her nose. Except for the color of her hair, Abby was the spitting image of Robyn at that age. The realization caught Taylor unaware, and she blinked back tears. How could Robyn bear not seeing her child? She didn’t like the answer that came to mind. She didn’t want to believe what Livy did—that her sister-in-law was probably dead.

  Abby cocked her head to the side. “Is something wrong, Aunt Tay?”

  Taylor touched the tip of Abby’s nose. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad to see you.” She held her arm out, measuring her niece’s height. “I believe you have grown two inches.”

  Chase appeared in the doorway. “Y’all standing out here in the hall all day?”

  Taylor grabbed her niece’s hand. “We’re coming.”

  As she passed Chase, he stopped her. “Can we talk later? About the land? Jonathan says he’s going to call a meeting after the picnic.”

  “I talked to him earlier this morning, and he’s going to wait until after the weekend.”

  Chase hugged her. “I knew you could still wrap him around your little finger.”

  In the kitchen, Abby climbed on a stool by the breakfast bar and patted the one beside it. “Sit here.”

  Her mom was her old self as she placed a cinnamon roll in front of her granddaughter. “Who wants to help me load the van and take the food down to the lake?”

  “Me!” Abby cried.

  “I’ll help,” Taylor replied in answer to a “look” from her mother. Anytime she received a pointed look and raised eyebrows it was best to agree with whatever her mother suggested.

  “Good. I’ll start loading around three.” She took a ham from the refrigerator and arranged pineapple slices around it, securing them with toothpicks, and then opened a bottle of maraschino cherries.

  “I want one!” Abby cried.

  Laughing, Mom plopped a cherry in her granddaughter’s open mouth. She turned to Chase. “Would you load the ice chest?”

  Chase nodded and pulled Abby’s ponytail. “Come on, pumpkin. You need to unpack, and after lunch you need to rest.”

  “Aw, Dad, I’m not tired.”

  “Abby . . .”

  She turned to Taylor. “Would you help me unpack?”

  “Sure, honey.” As they climbed the stairs, Taylor smiled. Chase was a great dad. Her thoughts wandered to Nick, and immediately she forced them away. No need to go there.

  21

  By five o’clock, if Taylor had explained where she’d been the last ten years to one person, she’d told a hundred. She’d endured matchmaking attempts and smiled until her cheeks hurt. Once or twice she even caught herself watching for Nick. Tired of mingling, she sought out a cool place under a huge oak where a light breeze touched her cheek. Abby and her friends caught her attention as they jumped off a wooden pier. Her heart hitched as she saw herself twenty years ago. Jumping off the pier. Swimming to the raft anchored a hundred yards off shore, then swimming back to the shore. Her dad watching.

  Taylor brushed away the memories, but she couldn’t brush away the ache of not knowing why he left. She wanted answers, and somehow, she had to find a way to get them.

  “So this is where you got off to.”

  Taylor looked around. Jonathan was pulling up a chair beside her. “I’m hiding out,” she replied. “If one more person says they can fix me up with a date, I’ll scream.”

  “That bad, huh?” Jonathan stretched out his long legs and crossed his hands over his belly.

  “Yes.” Taylor was half-tempted to ask Jonathan more questions about her dad. No. She didn’t want a repeat of this morning. She studied her uncle. Would her dad be balding now? Overweight? In her dreams, his features were indistinct, blurry.

  “What are you working on with Livy? That new murder case with the woman found by the interstate?”

  Jonathan’s question brought her back to the present. “Nope, another murder case.” Taylor glanced across to the dirt road where the cars were parked. Livy had arrived in her white Chevy SUV. She nodded toward her friend. “But Livy might know something about that case. Not that she’d tell you anything.”

  Jonathan turned and looked. “Bet I can get something out of her.”

  Taylor threw down the challenge. “Bet you can’t.”

  He shot her a sly glance. “You’re on.”

  When Livy plopped into a chair beside them with a sigh, Taylor laughed. “You sound tired. Thought you were taking the weekend off.”

  “I did. I called Kate and discovered she had a to-do list a mile long, so I offered to help. Just delivered the last order of mugs.”

  “How about a glass of lemonade?” Jonathan asked.

  “Wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Livy’s tone said otherwise.

  “No trouble.” Jonathan stood and ambled to the drink table.

  “It’s a bribe,” Taylor said. “He wants to know what’s going on in that woman’s murder investigation.”

  “He’s wasting his energy. The feds aren’t leaking anything. Do you want me to go with you to interview Lieutenant Wilson?”

  “That’d be great,” Taylor said, then nodded toward a grassy area where Abby and two of her friends had moved to practice their gymnastic moves. Abby arched her back and bent backward until her hands touched the ground. “She’s good.”

  Livy laughed. “Glad she took after you instead of me. By the way, I had a long conversation with Nick while I was at Kate’s. He’s such a nice guy.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Don’t go there.” Taylor wagged her finger. The memory of his kiss sent a warm flush to her face.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Taylor’s gaze slid past her friend. “Oh, look, there’s Rachel.”

  Livy turned. Their former schoolmate had stopped to swing a toddler into her husband’s arms. At their side, a smaller, towhead version of the husband pulled at a German shepherd puppy.

  Livy shook her head. “The little one there, he’s all boy. And there’s another one running around somewhere. Never figured Rachel for the three kids routine. Figured she’d be a lawyer or something.”

  If she and Nick . . . what would their child look like? Don’t go there. He’s too good to be true. Taylor traced her finger around the cup holder on the chair arm. “Would you trade places with her?”

  “No!” Livy shot a sharp glance toward Taylor. “Would you?”

  Taylor hesitated. “No, I guess not. She got a good man, though . . . and speaking of men, I almost called you earlier yelling ‘ma chère.’”

  “Who’d you need rescuing from?” Livy glanced across the picnic area. “Old Mr. Peabody?”

  “Mr. Peabody I could deal with. Mrs. Lizzie and her cronies I can’t. ‘Taylor, honey, you simply must meet my nephew Bert.’” She mimicked the older woman’s high-pitched nasal tone.

  Livy burst out laughing. “They got you, did they?”

  “Now I know why you avoid Logan Point as much as possible.”

  Accompanied by her mom and Ethan, Jonathan rejoined them and handed Livy a tall glass of lemonade. “Here you go, Ms. Reynolds.”

  Livy accepted the drink with a twinkle in her eye. “Thank you, Mr. Martin. And before you ask, I’ll tell you, I know nothing.”

  Jonathan shot Taylor a frown. “Did you —”

  “Not one word.” Taylor palmed her hands. Then she grinned. “Well, maybe two . . .”

  “The feds are keeping a tight lid on this case,” Livy said.

  “I’m glad you could make it, Livy.” Her mom reached down and gave Livy a hug while Ethan hovered in the background. “Are Kate and Charlie coming?”

  “Not sure about Charlie,
but Kate was packing her basket when I left.”

  Mom glanced toward Ethan. “Livy, do you know Ethan?”

  “I’ve seen him around the CJC a few times.” Livy extended her hand. “Congratulations on making it to the governor’s judgeship list.”

  “Thank you.”

  Taylor flicked a glance toward the couple. Ethan stood with his hand resting on the small of her mom’s back, as it had been off and on all afternoon. A question wormed its way into her mind. How would she feel if something really did develop between the two? Unease settled in her stomach. Somehow, she couldn’t see her mother with anyone other than her father. Which was ludicrous.

  Taylor’s attention was drawn to her niece as she raced toward them.

  “Aunt Tay! Come watch me dive off the pier!”

  Abby stopped short and squealed when she saw Livy. “Aunt Livy!” Bounding toward them, she grabbed Livy’s hand, and then Taylor’s. “Both of you, come.”

  Laughing, they rose and followed Abby to the water’s edge.

  “Watch me!” Abby shouted. She raced down the pier and jumped, flipping in midair before diving into the water.

  “Good dive!” Kate yelled behind them when Abby surfaced.

  Taylor turned and grinned at Kate. She hadn’t seen her arrive. “I’m glad you made it.”

  Kate’s answer was lost as Taylor caught sight of Nick. Instantly, the sky deepened a little bluer, and a golden glow settled on the picnic. A warning sounded in her head, but Taylor ignored it as she remembered his lips on hers and felt an idiotic smile stretch across her face. She probably looked like a Cheshire cat.

  “You look good.” His eyes reflected his words.

  Taylor barely noticed as Livy took her aunt’s basket and the two walked toward the picnic tables. She touched the French braid, glad she’d taken the time. “Thanks. Do you want to sit in the shade?”

  “I can’t stay.”

  The three words sank her good mood. “Why not?”

  “The hospital called. They’re discharging Scott.”

  “Now? Today?”

  He nodded. “He’s waiting. Oh, and I talked with Sheriff Logan and gave him Scott’s phone number. He’s going to check for the message. Did you get my email?”