She thought of all the stories her mother had told her about the dreadful Raven Mocker. According to the ancient stories, Raven Mocker flew through the night with his arms outstretched like wings and went into the house of somebody that was sick or dying and robbed them of their life.
But Raven Mocker was just a legend, like the Anglo bogeyman, her mind protested. Despite the fact that she was a modern woman, she couldn't deny the power of the stories she'd been told about the dreaded witch of her people.
Although she and Thomas were not ill, there was no doubt in her mind that only the evil Raven Mocker would be powerful enough, evil enough to kill Thomas and take her.
She rose to her feet and tried to open the door once again, but she couldn't. She made her way back to the bed and sat on the edge, fighting against the grief that threatened to rip her apart. Not only was she fighting her grief, but she also felt so very tired and realized she must have been drugged.
Shaking her head to try to get the fog out, she looked around the room once again and noticed the open closet. The clothing that hung inside was familiar. They were all hers … the dresses, the blouses, the skirts … all had hung in her closet at home.
What was going on here? What was happening? Her gaze darted frantically around the room. No windows—a locked steel door.
Raven Mocker had stolen Thomas's life and now held her as a prisoner. For what? Grief battled with terror and she curled up on the bed, wondering how long before she learned what her fate was to be.
* * *
He watched her on four screens, the images transmitted from the dozen cameras built into the ceiling of the room. Each screen gave him a different bird's-eye view and with the flick of a switch he could turn the camera's eyes so she would never be out of his view no matter where she was in the room.
She was weeping and he'd heard her cry her husband's name again and again. That was natural. He understood her grief and knew eventually it would pass.
He'd stopped the drugs, eager to see her awake and moving instead of inert and lifeless on the bed. He knew he'd have to tolerate her grief for several days to come, perhaps even a week or two, but if there was one thing he was, it was a patient man.
Soon she would come to understand that she belonged here … with him. She'd come to realize that she was special … a chosen one.
He hoped she didn't disappoint him.
He'd been disappointed so many times in the past.
* * *
"Good night, Riley," Savannah said and jumped out of his truck before he could even offer to walk her to her door. If he walked her to her door he'd want to kiss her good-night, and she was afraid a kiss from Riley at this moment would shatter her into a million pieces.
She hurried to her apartment door, unlocked it, then went inside and slammed the door shut behind her. She locked it again, then sagged weakly against it.
The drive home had been silent, filled with tension and for her, filled with regret. She'd made love with Riley not once, but twice. Once, she could chalk up to raging hormones or a lack of control. She could have told herself he'd seduced her, that she'd been weak and vulnerable and he'd taken advantage of her.
But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't excuse or explain away the second time. She'd gone willingly to his bed, wanting the pleasure of being naked and intimate with him between his sheets.
She had been a willing participant in their lovemaking—lovemaking that had gone beyond the boundaries of mere physical pleasure.
She pushed herself away from the front door and stepped into the living room where the photos of Jimmy seemed to stare at her in accusation.
Tears burned at her eyes and she raced into her bathroom, stripped off her clothes and got into the shower. She scrubbed herself in the near-scalding water, needing to remove every trace of Riley.
She only wished there was some way to take out her memories and rinse them clean of him, as well. But his smile remained in her head, the sound of his laughter rang in her ears, and the warm light of his eyes bathed her in a heat that had nothing to do with the shower water.
As she dried off and pulled on her nightgown, she thought of her mother. How Savannah wished her mother was here right now, to talk to, to hold her and make all the madness of her life go away.
From the bathroom she wandered back into the living room and picked up the frame with the photo of Jimmy in his parka. She curled up on the sofa with the photo in hand, staring at the man who had been friend, companion, lover and husband.
Life had been so easy when Jimmy had been with her. There had been no murders, no missing mother, no lonely nights and no torturous feelings of guilt.
His brown eyes were so gentle … so kind. But so were Riley's blue ones, a little voice whispered. Jimmy had made her laugh. Riley makes you laugh, too, the voice whispered.
And Riley had made her body sing as it never had before. He'd made her feel alive for the first time in over a year. Even now, just thinking about their lovemaking sent a shimmering wave of heat through her.
She grabbed the photo of Jimmy tighter and clutched it against her chest. He'd been her destiny, her soul mate. She closed her eyes in an attempt to stanch the hot tears that threatened. But the attempt was futile, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she realized she couldn't remember her soul mate's kiss. Her head was too filled with Riley.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^»
She'd stopped taking his calls. Every night for the next three nights Riley called her at the same time, as had become their habit. And each night he got her answering machine. He suspected she was home, listening to his messages, but refusing to pick up and actually talk to him.
It killed him. After what they had shared, it killed him to know she was now attempting to push him right out of her life.
She was in love with him, he knew it in his heart. He knew she wasn't the kind of woman who could make love with somebody she didn't care about or wasn't falling in love with. Yes, he believed she was falling in love with him but was bound heart and soul to a dead man.
How could he ever hope to compete with a marriage that would never suffer any more discord, a marriage that would forever be happy in the memories of the woman left behind?
How could he ever hope to compete with a man who could now never disappoint or hurt her in any way?
The messages Riley had left for her had been lists of additional cities and towns where he'd checked records to see if he could find a case like theirs. So far there had been nothing, but in every minute of his spare time he got back on the Internet and the telephone to search some more.
That's what he was doing when his other phone line rang. He snatched it up, hoping, praying it was Savannah. But instead it was her brother, Clay.
"Found something interesting," he said without preamble.
"And what would that be?" Riley asked.
"Pebbles."
"Excuse me?" Riley shut down his computer to better focus on the conversation.
"Pebbles … little rocks. There were two in the carpeting at your parents' house and three in the carpeting at my folk's place."
Riley frowned, not understanding the significance. "I would expect there to be pebbles in everyone's carpeting. There are all kinds of rocks and gravel around."
"But not like these," Clay replied. "These aren't your garden variety pebbles. They're polished, decorative rocks used for landscaping."
"Can you tell where they come from? Who sells them?" Adrenaline pumped through him. Maybe finally … finally they had gotten a break in the cases.
"Unfortunately there are three rock quarries in this county that sell them and a dozen quarries throughout the state. I'm in the process now of requesting customer lists from all of them, but I'm not sure if we'll learn anything from them or not."
"So, we're back to square one," Riley said, fighting a wave of disappointment.
"Not exactly. I'd say with this evidence, it's possible that whoeve
r killed your father also tried to kill mine."
"Possible, but you can't be certain."
There was a moment of silence and Riley felt the other man's frustration radiating across the line. "I couldn't testify in a court of law unequivocally that the two crimes were committed by the same person based on this evidence alone."
"But what do you think, Clay?" he pressed, wanting a definitive answer.
"I don't think. That's not my job. I analyze trace evidence. It's just intriguing, that's all, that the same kind of rock was found at both places. I thought you'd like to know."
"I appreciate it. Have you told Savannah?"
"Yeah. It was her idea that I call and let you know."
Riley's suspicion that Savannah was avoiding him was confirmed by Clay's words. A week ago there was no way in hell Savannah wouldn't have been on the phone to him to share this piece of news. But a week ago they hadn't made love.
He rebooted the computer and stared at the screen. How could making love to her screw everything up between them? He hadn't forced himself on her. She'd been a willing participant both times.
He'd never experienced the kind of pleasure he'd had making love to Savannah. It hadn't been just the act itself, but the beauty of looking deep into her eyes, feeling the beat of her heart against his, knowing a bond was being cemented between them that went beyond the mere physical act of lovemaking.
At least that's what he'd thought. He suspected he knew what had chased her away—the memories of a man now dead. Jimmy Tallfeather must have been a hell of a man to still have such a hold on his wife a year after his death.
Riley wanted to break that hold. He didn't want Savannah to forget the man she'd loved and married, but he wanted her to open her heart to the possibility that she could love and marry and be happy once again.
He shut off his computer, realizing it was impossible to work with her filling his every thought. Instead he decided to knock off from work altogether, take a ride into Cherokee Corners and see if he could find Savannah.
If he could just see her, speak with her in person, then he hoped he could convince her there was no reason to feel bad or guilty about what they had shared. He hoped he could convince her they belonged together.
"Lillian, I'm taking off for the rest of the afternoon," he said as he left his office.
"You might as well," she said. "You've been here all day, but you haven't been here, if you know what I mean." She tapped the side of her head to make her point. "If I was to guess, you've got woman problems," she added.
Riley smiled at her, surprised by her astuteness. On impulse he sat in the chair opposite her desk. "Lillian, you're a widow."
She nodded. "It's been five years since I lost my Joseph."
"And you've never remarried," he observed.
"That's true," she agreed. "What's with all these questions? Is this about your Savannah?"
Your Savannah. He loved the way that sounded and he desperately wanted to make it so. He hadn't realized until these last couple of weeks with her how utterly lonely, how desolate his life had become.
Before meeting Savannah he'd just been going through the motions, enduring each day without real pleasure. She'd changed all that for him. She'd filled his days with joy, given him a new hope for his future. She'd made him believe happiness was possible again despite the tremendous loss in his life.
"Riley?" Lillian looked at him expectantly.
"Sorry, yes it's about Savannah. Why haven't you remarried?" he asked.
Lillian blinked, as if finding it difficult to track the conversation. "I don't know. I haven't met anyone since Joseph that has made me think of marrying again. I've grown accustomed to being alone and it's not like I need to remarry. I have my gentlemen friends. I go to dinner or whatever, then send them on their way."
Riley frowned, trying to think what this might have to do with Savannah's widowhood.
"But you have to remember, Riley, I'm an old woman. I've had my children, I was married for thirty-five years."
"She clings to the memory of her husband, and I think she's refusing to even give us a chance. I respect the fact that she misses him, but I can't believe she intends to hold on to memories for the rest of her life."
Lillian leaned back in her chair and gazed at him sympathetically. "I don't have any answers or words of wisdom for you, Riley. Maybe the timing just isn't right for you and Savannah. Maybe if you'd met her ten years ago or two years from now." She shrugged helplessly and Riley stood.
"Thanks, Lillian, but as far as I'm concerned, the timing is right now. All I have to do is figure out a way to convince her of that." With those words, he walked out of the trailer and got into his truck.
As he headed for Cherokee Corners, he thought of Lillian's words about the timing perhaps being all wrong. He'd never believe that, not in a million years. He felt as if some strange sort of serendipity had been at work from the moment he'd first met Savannah.
He'd come looking to see if the crime that had taken place in the James home was like the one that had taken place in his parents' home. He could have made initial contact with the newlywed Breanna or with Clay. But fate had led him to Savannah, a woman as needy as he had been.
It had to mean something. The timing had felt intrinsically right when they'd been making love. He'd looked deep into her eyes as he'd taken possession of her, and what he'd seen shining from the brown depths of her eyes had been love … love for him.
He knew there was turmoil in her life, that the recent murders and what had happened to her parents had created havoc. But he needed to make her see that he could be her shelter in the storm, her rock to cling to. He had to convince her that he was what she needed in her life.
The problem was he couldn't find her. When he got to Cherokee Corners, he drove by her apartment first to see if her car was there. It wasn't. Then he drove to the police station, past her parents' place and by the hospital parking lot. Her car was nowhere to be found.
There was only one other place he knew to look for her, and the thought that she might be there chilled his blood.
He drove to the old bridge where her husband had plunged off the side to his death, where she'd confessed to him she sometimes climbed up in the girders and stared down at the water below.
There was only one area where a car could be parked and a person could get to the girders to climb up, and it was to that spot that he went. Relief flooded through him as he saw that her car was nowhere in sight.
Unsure where to go next, he found himself pulling in front of the Redbud Bed and Breakfast. Maybe Alyssa, her cousin, would know where he could find her.
It was early enough in the afternoon that apparently the lunch group had gone and the after-dinner crowd hadn't yet started in. The place was empty except for Alyssa, who sat behind the counter sipping a cup of coffee.
She began to stand as he came through the door, but he waved her back down and slid onto a stool opposite her. "Hello, Mr. Frazier," she greeted him.
"Please … make it Riley."
"What can I get for you? A double-dipper cone? A hot-fudge sundae? Banana split?"
"No, no thanks. I was just wondering if maybe you knew where Savannah might be? I've been looking for her this afternoon."
"I heard from her earlier this morning, and she said she was heading into Tulsa to follow up on a tip in the McClane murder. She said that she didn't expect to be back home until late tonight."
Riley couldn't hide his disappointment. He'd hoped to talk to her now … this minute. The love he felt for her burned in his heart, in his soul and he felt the need to tell her before another hour passed, before another day went by.
"I guess you knew her husband, Jimmy," he finally said.
Alyssa nodded, her gaze holding his with a disquieting intensity. "I knew Jimmy all my life," she said. "He was a nice boy who grew into a nice man, rather quiet and utterly devoted to Savannah."
She broke eye contact with him and gazed down at the
counter. "I don't know if Savannah mentioned it to you, but I have visions." She looked at him again, as if to gauge his reaction.
"Visions? You mean like psychic stuff?"
Her nod was almost imperceptive. "I've had them since I was a young child."
"So, you can see the future?" Riley was open-minded enough not to discount the possibility. After all, it was the era of people talking to the dead and psychics solving crimes for police departments. He'd never personally been touched by anything remotely paranormal, but that didn't mean he didn't believe it was possible.
She shrugged. "I see visions and sometimes they are of the future, and sometimes they are from the past. Sometimes they're about people I've never met and sometimes they're about people I love."
"And have you seen visions about Savannah?" A new tension filled Riley.
She frowned thoughtfully. "I don't have to see visions about her to know what's going on with her. When Jimmy died, something inside her died. We Cherokee believe that when people die their souls becomes spirits who walk among us." She worried a hand through her long hair, her frown deepening. "I think Savannah walks too close to Jimmy's spirit."
"I love her." The words fell from his lips before he realized he intended to say them aloud.
Alyssa smiled. "I know."
He looked at her in surprise. "You saw a vision or something?"
She laughed. "You wear your feelings for my cousin on your face, in your eyes. I don't need a vision to tell me how you feel about her." Her laughter faded and she eyed him sympathetically. "I don't know what to tell you, Riley. Savannah has been closed off from life … from love for a long time. I don't know if anyone is capable of opening her heart again."
Riley stood from his stool and raked a hand through his hair. "Wish me luck, because I intend to try."
He left the Redbud Bed and Breakfast and headed home, knowing there was nothing he could do that night. He didn't intend to give up. There was always tomorrow … or the day after … or the day after that, but sooner or later, he intended to be the man to open Savannah's heart to life … to love once again.
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