DEAD CERTAIN

by Carla Cassidy

  * * *

  The week had seemed interminably long. The trip to Tulsa the day before had exhausted her, and so far the morning had been no less tiring.

  Savannah drove fast toward her parents' house, hoping to arrive before Breanna and Adam brought Thomas home. She suspected Uncle Sammy wasn't the neatest of housekeepers and wanted to make sure the place was in good shape before her dad arrived home.

  It was going to be difficult enough for Thomas to come home to a house where his wife wasn't there. Seventeen days. It had been seventeen long days since Rita Birdsong James had disappeared.

  Although Thomas had made great strides physically since awakening from his coma, his mental state was precarious. She now arrived at the ranch and parked behind her uncle's car, then raced to the door and knocked.

  Her uncle Sammy opened the door and pulled her into a bear hug. "Hi, sweetheart." He released her and stepped back to allow her in. "I heard your dad was being released, so I've been doing a little cleanup." He grinned at her, his features still retaining a boyish charm. "I'll bet you came over to make sure the place wasn't a pigsty."

  She smiled ruefully. "It did cross my mind that you might need a little housekeeping help." She followed him into the kitchen, which was spotlessly clean.

  "Nah, I got myself to work, decided the last thing my brother needs is to come home to a dirty place. It's bad enough he's coming home without Rita."

  As always her mother's name evoked both grief and fear inside Savannah. Where was she? What was happening to her? Seventeen days felt like an eternity.

  "I'm glad you're here, Uncle Sammy," she said, refusing to dwell on her mother. Right now she had enough on her mind worrying about her father. "It's nice to know you're here for Dad."

  He sank down at the kitchen table and gestured for her to do the same. "I'm glad to be here. It was time for me to change my circumstances. To be honest, I was in a bit of a money crunch and was about to get kicked out of my apartment, anyway. Besides," he flashed her a wide grin, "I've always said that Cherokee Corners has the best-looking women in the world."

  "Uncle Sammy, you're incorrigible," Savannah said with a laugh. At that moment they heard a car door slam out front.

  Savannah and her uncle went to the door to see Breanna and Adam helping Thomas out of the car. Savannah ran outside to see if she could help.

  Breanna and Adam looked incredibly stressed, which meant her father was probably in one of his moods. In the past week he'd alternated between deep depression and rage. The doctor had told them this was to be expected, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with.

  "Daddy," Savannah said and hugged him tight as he got out of the passenger seat, using a cane for support. "How are you doing?"

  "How do you think I'm doing?" he replied angrily. "This isn't right. This just isn't right. I shouldn't be here without her." He waved Savannah away from him with the cane as she attempted to help him toward the house. "I can walk fine on my own. I don't need any damned help."

  Breanna shot Savannah a helpless look. Together Adam, Breanna and Savannah followed Thomas as he slowly made his way toward the house where Uncle Sammy stood at the front door watching their progress.

  When Thomas got to the door, he grunted a hello to his brother, then went on into the living room. He stood and stared around. "My chair is gone."

  "Daddy, the police took the chair. They were looking for evidence."

  Tears welled up in Thomas's eyes, and the anger that had carried him inside seemed to leave him. He slumped down on the sofa. "She should be here. Where is she? What are you all doing to find her?"

  "Daddy, we're doing everything we can," Savannah said. She sat next to him and placed her hand on his knee. Breanna sat on the other side of him.

  "Clay is busy analyzing trace evidence, and we're following leads as fast as they develop," Breanna said. "But there just aren't that many leads to follow."

  "Everyone is doing everything they can, Thomas," Uncle Sammy said.

  "You have to be strong, Daddy," Savannah continued. "You have to stay strong for when she comes home. She's going to need all of us."

  "She will come home, won't she?" He looked from one daughter to the other. "She'll come home and we'll all be a family again. She has to … she absolutely has to."

  Savannah nodded, and the three of them hugged as Savannah prayed that what he'd said would come true.

  She went from her parents' home back to work, still chasing leads on the two murder investigations that remained unsolved and without any real viable suspects.

  It was after seven when she walked into her apartment and was greeted by a meow from Happy who was apparently hungry for a little quality time.

  She scooped the furry bundle up in her arms and sank down on the sofa. It was impossible to hold Happy and not think about the man who had given her to Savannah.

  For the past week it had been impossible to draw a breath and not think about Riley. The feel of his skin still burned into hers, the taste of his mouth lingered. But thoughts of him were more than just about their lovemaking.

  As she thought of him showing her around Riley Estates, she couldn't help but remember the beautiful sparkle of his eyes as he spoke of building a community, his enthusiasm that had been infectious.

  She thought of the stories he'd told her, stories intended to make her laugh and how gentle he'd been when he'd offered her emotional support.

  Each night for the past week he'd called, and she'd had to fight with herself not to pick up the receiver. After all, what was the point of talking to him anymore? What was the point in seeing him again?

  She had no intention of allowing herself to be drawn in again. She'd been weak. Her heart belonged to Jimmy and nothing and nobody could ever change that.

  It would be wrong to pretend otherwise. Jimmy walked with her every day in spirit and that would be enough for her for the rest of her life.

  Still, it was difficult to ignore the messages left by Riley each night. He was still searching for similar crimes in the state, and each of his phone messages began with a list of the cities and towns he'd checked out.

  After he'd finished with the list, he left a more personal message … asking about her, wondering why he hadn't heard from her … hoping she was doing all right. It was the final parts of his messages that ached in her heart, his attempt to connect with her on a personal level, the memory of the nights when they'd shared those right-before-sleep telephone talks.

  "Come on, sweet, let's get something to eat." She carried Happy into the kitchen and sat her on the floor near her food dish, then opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents without interest.

  She couldn't remember the last time she'd been grocery shopping, and the pickings the fridge offered were slim. She finally decided to make a quick omelet. As she prepared the ingredients she studiously ignored the flashing red light on her answering machine. She knew it was probably a message from Riley. In the past two days he'd left messages for her both at the station and here at home.

  She didn't want to play it. She didn't even want to hear his voice, for if she did, she'd miss him and she'd think about making love with him and she'd get excited and scared and filled with emotions she didn't want to feel.

  The sound of a television game show accompanied her as she ate her dinner, but beneath the television noise she was aware of the profound silence of the apartment.

  It was an absence of noise that seemed to reverberate in her head, echo deep in her heart. It created an ache inside her, the ache of loneliness.

  It irritated her, because before Riley she'd had her grief to keep her company, her memories of Jimmy to make noise in her head.

  She'd just finished placing her plate in the dishwasher when her phone rang once again. She knew it was Riley, felt it in her bones. She stood by the answering machine and stared at it as she waited to see who would speak to leave a message.

  "Savannah … are you there?"

  Riley's deep,
sweetly familiar voice filled the line, and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to pick up the phone.

  "I need to talk to you," he said. "It's important … I found something." There was a long moment of silence. "We really need to talk, Savannah."

  She told herself the only reason she was picking up the phone was because he'd said he'd found something important. But she also knew she couldn't spend the rest of her life avoiding him.

  Besides, in the time she had known him he'd been too kind, too generous to now ignore. She at least owed him something—an explanation of why she no longer wanted to see him.

  She picked up the receiver. "I'm here, Riley."

  "Savannah," he said her name with relief. "I was beginning to think I'd never talk to you again."

  "I've been really busy. What's up?"

  He hesitated a moment, as if put off by her businesslike attitude. "1 found something in my search, but I'd rather not discuss it over the phone. Can I see you?"

  She frowned thoughtfully. Had he really found something important or was this just a ruse to see her again? Still, she had no reason to believe that Riley would lie to her.

  "I can be there in forty-five minutes," he continued. "You'll really want to see this," he added as if recognizing she might need further incentive.

  "All right. Come on over," she agreed, and she was filled with a combination of anticipation and dread at the same time.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  Riley hadn't been kidding when he'd told her that he'd found something that was of interest to their cases. But his driving need to see her went far beyond the information he had to impart to her.

  He pulled into her apartment complex, anxious to tell her what he'd discovered, but more anxious to tell her of his feelings. He felt an urgency, somehow, that if he didn't tell her of his love for her soon something terrible might happen.

  He'd learned from what had happened to his parents not to take a moment of time, of life, for granted. In a single split second of the past, he'd realized that every moment was a gift and shouldn't be wasted. He didn't want to waste another minute without telling Savannah how very important she'd become to him.

  When she answered the door, his heart swelled with his love for her. Although she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved button-up red blouse and had a look of exhaustion on her face, he thought she'd never looked lovelier.

  He'd been so hungry to see those beautiful brown eyes, watch the fleeting flicker of emotion that danced through the brown depths. He'd been starving for the scent of her, the nearness of her, but it was obvious from her body language that she was defensive and distant.

  She motioned him into the kitchen and when he sat she took the seat opposite his, obviously having no intention of sitting right beside him.

  "I heard you drove into Tulsa yesterday on a hot tip on your murder case. Did anything come of it?" he asked.

  "Unfortunately, it was a waste of time, although I managed to confirm the rumor that Sam McClane was a ladies' man despite the fact that he'd been married for ten years. He had a mistress in Tulsa."

  He noticed that she offered him no coffee, nothing to drink. Apparently, she didn't want him to linger and didn't see this as a social visit. His heart fell at the knowledge that she'd withdrawn so far from him.

  "Does that help with the investigation? Knowing that he was a ladies' man and had a mistress?"

  "Yes and no. We now have several women to question concerning Sam's murder, but it doesn't help in tying the two murders to the same perpetrator, and we're all pretty convinced they were killed by the same person." Her gaze had yet to meet his fully. "So you said on the phone you had some information for me."

  He refused to be disheartened by her distance. He would take care of business first, but then they were going to have a personal talk whether she liked it or not.

  He reached to open the folder he'd carried in with him and handed her a sheet of paper he'd printed off an Internet site. Shoving it across the table toward her, he wondered how she could so easily pretend that nothing had happened between them, that they hadn't been as intimate as a man and a woman could be.

  As she read the paper he'd handed her, she sat up straighter in the chair and her eyes widened. "Where is this from?" she asked, finally looking fully at him for the first time.

  "A town called Sequoia Falls … it's just outside of Oklahoma City."

  "But it's just like what happened to us," she said, a spark of excitement shining in her eyes.

  "Yeah, except it took place a year before the crime against my folks. I called the detective who was in charge of the case at the time. He's retired now, but remembered the case well."

  "What did he say?" She leaned forward, and he wished she were leaning forward to be closer to him instead of in eagerness to hear what he had to say to her about the case.

  "He said it was the first time he recognized that women could be as vicious as men when it came to killing. Apparently the man had been hit over the head from behind with a blunt object. The blow killed him instantly. By the time his body was found, his wife was gone. Some of her clothing and toiletries were missing, and she went to the top of the suspect list."

  "What happened with the case?"

  "Still open. I found it on a site called Cold Cases in Oklahoma. The woman has never been found, dead or alive. She disappeared without a trace."

  "Just like your mother and mine," Savannah said softly.

  She stared down at the paper in her hand once again.

  "The only difference between this case and ours is that the couple apparently was having some marital problems at the time that the crime occurred, which made it easier for the police to write it up as a domestic homicide."

  He'd never wanted to take anyone in his arms as much as he wanted to her at the moment. A tiny wrinkle furrowed her brow as she once again read the newspaper account of the crime that had taken place three years earlier.

  When she gazed back at him, her expression was troubled. "If we're to believe that this crime is also related to yours and mine, then what is going on here? Where are these women disappearing to?"

  "I wish I knew," he said soberly.

  She sighed and scooted the paper across the table back to him, the wrinkle between her eyes growing more pronounced. "What if this is some kind of a serial thing? Somebody sneaks into a house, bangs the male occupant over the head, then does something with the women? But what?"

  Riley didn't reply. He had nothing to say and saw that she wasn't finished yet, that the wheels of her detective mind were still whirling.

  "A crime … then the passing of a year and another crime … then the passing of two years and another. Exact same crime scene and three missing women." She sighed once again. "I don't know, maybe I have serial killers on the brain and there's nothing except a strange coincidence where these three crimes are concerned."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  She offered him a small smile. "No." Her smile fell. "I think it's something far more sinister than mere coincidence. Tomorrow I'll see if I can get all the official records of this particular case and see where that leads. There has to be some sort of connection … something we're missing."

  "Clay told you about the pebbles he found in my parents' house and at yours?"

  She nodded. "It's not a lot to go on, but we're checking out the quarries in the area, seeing if we can find who sells and who buys that kind of decorative rock." She pushed back, away from the table and he sensed a dismissal coming.

  "Thanks, Riley, for bringing by the information. Who knows, maybe it will lead to something substantial." She stood and eyed him expectantly, but he remained seated.

  "We need to talk, Savannah," he said.

  He saw the flash of knowledge in her eyes, somehow knew that she'd been expecting this. She stared at the wall just over his left shoulder.

  "Riley, I'm tired. It's been a long day. I appreciate you co
ming by to tell me what you found, but I really need to call it a night." She backed away from the table, until she bumped into the countertop across the room.

  He stood. "We need to talk now, tonight because I have a feeling that if I walk out your door now we're never going to have the discussion we need to have."

  She raised her chin and stared at him, resolve in her eyes. "What do you want to talk about, Riley? You want to talk about the fact that we had sex? Okay … we had sex. It's over and done and that's that."

  "That's that?" He stared at her incredulously. "That's that?" In three quick strides he stood before her, so close he could smell the scent of her, see the dread that darkened her eyes. He placed his hands on her shoulders, felt the tension that made them rigid as steel.

  "Honey, we did more than have sex. We made love. Having sex is what I've done throughout my adulthood. I've only made love twice … and both times were with you."

  He didn't know how it was possible for eyes as dark as hers to grow even more dark, but they did. "Riley … please … I don't want to do this." She twisted from his grasp and went into the living room.

  He followed behind her, but stood his ground in the center of the room, refusing to go another step toward the front door. Here he was surrounded by the photos of Jimmy … the man who held her heart captive and refused to let go.

  "You don't want to do what?" he asked. "You don't want to hear that I love you? Well, you're going to hear it anyway. I love you, Savannah Tallfeather."

  She winced, her eyes nearly black with pain, and she waved a hand as if to still the words that had ached for too long inside him.

  He sat on the sofa and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Somehow, some way, in his dreams, he'd thought that by confessing to her that he loved her, she'd fall into his arms and admit her love for him. He'd thought hearing the words spoken aloud would make it real for her, right for her.

  But the look on her face was anything but love … it was horror and fear and a touch of anger. "Savannah," he said softly. "The one thing my mother and father wanted for me more than anything else on this earth was love. Oh, they wanted me to be successful, financially stable and all that, but more than anything they wanted me to find a woman to share my life. I found her in you, Savannah."