Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

  Edgar’s confusion was replaced with the annoying expression of the absentminded professor. “I told you I was in my office.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you said. You also said you had proof if I needed it. I let it go at the time.”

  Edgar reached up, as if he intended to smooth the tie that wasn’t there. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “Because the police are investigating her death,” Erika said.

  Edgar didn’t blink. Obviously he’d already suspected that there was something going on with the case. “It’s a waste of time. Laurel was killed by a deranged mugger,” he said in clipped tones. “End of story.”

  She shook her head. “If you truly believed that, then why did you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Dr. Peyton just claimed that he was in his office when the cops called, looking for you,” she sharply interrupted. “You were nowhere to be found.”

  The color slowly leached from his face. He was obviously shocked to discover his alibi was in shreds. So why had he lied? Because he’d been in Pike, killing his wife? Or because he was up to something else he didn’t want exposed?

  “Dr. Peyton has to be mistaken,” he finally managed to croak.

  “No mistake,” Erika insisted. “You weren’t here.”

  His lips pressed together, his chin tilting to a stubborn angle. “I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll discuss it with the cops,” Erika bluffed.

  She didn’t know what Edgar was hiding, but she’d be damned if she would allow him to continue with his lie.

  Concentrating on the man who was glaring at her with blatant fury, Erika hadn’t noticed the movement in the inner office. Not until a woman appeared to stand next to Edgar, her shirt half-unbuttoned and her hair tousled.

  Linda Baker.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the secretary said, her smile as cold as the glitter in her pale eyes. “He was with me.”

  Erika jerked in shock as she realized why Edgar looked so uncharacteristically mussed. Glancing from the professor to his secretary, Erika felt a sudden heat crawling beneath her cheeks. Why was she the one embarrassed? She hadn’t been caught having sex with a staff member in her office.

  Still, she discovered herself whirling to hurry out of the reception area. She’d come there for answers, and she had them. There was no point in lingering for the awkward conversation of whether or not she was going to report Edgar to the Board of Regents for his inappropriate affair. That was something that would have to be dealt with next week.

  It wasn’t until she was home, polishing off her second glass of wine, that she considered the notion that maybe she didn’t have the answers she’d thought she had.

  Erika had known that Linda Baker was besotted with Edgar for years. And now she had proof they were lovers. If the woman believed that Edgar was in danger, what was the likelihood that she would step in to protect him? One hundred percent.

  That explained why she would reveal an illicit relationship that would no doubt be the end of her career at the college. Along with Edgar’s.

  So, if she was willing to risk her career for her lover, what was to say she wasn’t willing to lie for him?

  What if they hadn’t been together that night?

  It wasn’t until Erika reached the bottom of the wine bottle that she gained the courage to reach for her phone. Dialing Wynter’s number, she waited for the younger woman to answer. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. At last she was dumped into voice mail. Erika sucked in a deep breath before she spoke.

  “Hi, Wynter. This is Erika Tomalin. I have some information about the night your mom died that I think you should know. Give me a call.”

  Chapter 22

  After they returned to the cabin, Noah seemed to sense Wynter’s reluctance to discuss the memories that were returning with strange flashes. Like a movie that was coming in and out of focus. Instead, he insisted on grilling a couple of salmon steaks that he served with a fresh salad and sliced fruit.

  They ate in a comfortable silence before they headed into the living room where Noah tossed a log into the fireplace to ward off the chilled night air. Then, snuggled on the couch, Noah dropped a light kiss on the top of her head.

  “Wynter?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Are you ready to talk to me?”

  Was she? Yeah. The memories hadn’t completely returned, but she had a vague recollection of what had happened the night her mom had died.

  “Dr. Tomalin was certain that I had a memory I was repressing.”

  “Was she right?”

  Wynter shuddered. “Yes.”

  Noah tightened his arms around Wynter. “I’ve got you.”

  Wynter nestled closer. She’d spent so long depending on herself. There’d never been anyone whom she could turn to in troubled times. It was remarkably glorious to know that she could lean on Noah.

  It wasn’t a weakness. It made her stronger.

  “I told you that I was asleep the night my mom picked me up.” She waited for his nod, then she reluctantly sorted through the memories that had risen from the protective fog that her mind had instinctively wrapped around them. “I was still asleep when she put me in the back seat of her car and then stopped to get gas before our drive back to Larkin. I didn’t wake up until I heard the shots.” She grimaced at the vague recollection of being jerked awake to discover the driver’s door open. Puzzled, she’d sat up, peering out the back window to see her mother lying on the ground. “I remember screaming when I saw my mom was covered with blood, and I think there was someone else screaming in the background.” In her nightmares there was more than one scream.

  “Tillie?” Noah guessed.

  “It must have been.” She’d never seen the woman, but she assumed that she’d been the one screaming. Who else could it be? “A few minutes later there were sirens and flashing lights and people shouting.”

  Noah rubbed his hand up and down her back in a comforting caress. “You must have been terrified.”

  “I was.” She’d been curled in a small ball in the back seat as the emergency workers had scurried around the car. None of them seemed to realize she was there. Not until an older man with a cowboy hat had leaned into the car and held out his hand. “Then Sheriff Jansen took me to his house. He gave me hot chocolate and told me I was safe. Until tonight, everything after that was a blur.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I remember sitting in the sheriff’s kitchen,” she said slowly, once again the vulnerable four-year-old who’d just seen her mother lying on the ground in a pool of blood. “He gave me a peppermint stick to stir it with and then he told me to wait there because he had to make some calls.”

  Noah shifted so he could study her face with a searching gaze. “That’s what troubled you?”

  Wynter took a second, allowing the distant images to sharpen into focus. She remembered sitting at the wooden table. Her feet had dangled above the floor and she’d been swinging them because she was nervous. The sheriff had been loud and cheerful and he never stopped talking while he’d moved around the kitchen. Looking back, she could see he’d been doing his best to distract her. Once he was sure that she was comfortably settled with her hot chocolate he’d promised her that he would be close by and left the kitchen.

  “He was using a landline, so he was in the living room next to the kitchen,” she explained. “I could hear everything he said.”

  “Who was he calling?”

  “He was trying to find my dad.”

  Noah arched his brows. “Trying?”

  “I was drinking my chocolate and hearing him make call after call.” A shiver raced through Wynter, cold chills inching down her spine. What had her grandma said ... like someone walking over her grave? “I heard the sheriff ask whoever answered the phone where he could find Edgar Moore, leaving messages to call him back ASAP. I started crying because I was suddenly certain that the same person who’
d hurt my mom had done the same thing to my dad. I was convinced I was all alone in the world and that I would never again have a home or family.”

  Noah’s expression was oddly emotionless, as if he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking. “Where did they find him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She heaved a sigh. “Eventually my grandma came to pick me up and take me back to her house. I’d never been so relieved in all my life. After that I must have fallen asleep again because when I woke up, my dad was carrying me into my bedroom in our house in Larkin.”

  “Do you know what time it was?”

  “No, but it was daylight because my dad went to the window to pull closed the curtain to keep out the sunshine before he left the room.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  Wynter tried to recall anything after her grandma had entered the kitchen. It was quite possible Wynter had been so exhausted that she’d collapsed the second her grandma had scooped her in her arms. And she was certain she hadn’t wakened until she was back in Larkin.

  There were other memories from when she was older, however, that niggled at the back of her mind. “I don’t recall anything else from that night, but there are a few arguments between my grandma and my dad that make sense now,” she admitted.

  “What were they arguing about?”

  “I could only hear bits and pieces, but my grandma was accusing him of not being there when I needed him the most. I always assumed she was referring to the hours he worked while I was home alone. But maybe she was mad because he couldn’t be found the night my mom was murdered.”

  He held her gaze. “It could be both.”

  “True,” Wynter agreed. In hindsight it was easy to see her grandma’s barely concealed dislike for Edgar Moore. It was more difficult to guess what the root cause might have been. Did she blame Edgar for Laurel’s reckless behavior? Or was it a resentment for not being the sort of doting father she thought Wynter deserved? Or was it something more nefarious? A queasiness rolled through Wynter. “Noah.”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm. “What is it?”

  “I can’t believe my dad would hurt my mom,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”

  “All we know is that he wasn’t at his office that night.” He bent his head down to press his lips softly against her mouth. “Anything else is just speculation.”

  “Why didn’t he answer his phone that night?”

  “We’ll ask him.” Another kiss. This one longer, deeper. “Tomorrow.”

  “Noah.” She reached up to lightly brush the bruise on his temple.

  Leaning forward, he pressed her onto the sofa cushions, his eyes darkening with a wicked temptation.

  “We’ve had enough for one day.”

  * * *

  It was just past eight A.M. when Noah pulled into the driveway in front of the faded ranch-style house. The neighborhood was swathed in the sleepy Sunday vibe that the hardworking citizens of Larkin zealously guarded. Later, they would emerge from their homes to attend church or gather together to eat brunch. For now, they savored the sense of peace.

  Switching off the engine of his Jeep, he glanced toward the woman in the passenger seat.

  She looked calm and composed. Her glorious hair was pulled into a smooth ponytail and she was wearing a soft pink sweater and a pair of faded jeans that hugged her legs with astonishing perfection. But in the morning light he could see the lines of strain on her pale face.

  She’d slept through the night in his arms, but it hadn’t been restful. She’d tossed and turned and mumbled garbled words. His first instinct had been to keep her at the cabin. He wanted her safely locked away until they discovered what the hell was going on. But she’d barely nibbled at her toast and he could tell she wasn’t going to be happy until she’d reassured herself that her father wasn’t involved in her mother’s murder.

  He’d tried to convince her that he could confront her father. There was no need to strain their relationship with ugly accusations. Not when they didn’t have anything more than vague suspicions. She’d been adamant that she was going with him. But she did agree that she would search through her mother’s belongings in the basement while he actually spoke with her father.

  It wasn’t the best compromise, but it was the only one he was going to get.

  Now, he reached to touch a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail to lie against her throat. “Are you ready?”

  She didn’t hesitate. Shoving open her door, she jumped out of the Jeep. “Let’s go.”

  She marched toward the porch at a brisk pace, and Noah had to hurry to catch up. Then, as they reached the door, her courage faltered. He watched the little color in her cheeks drain away and her lips tremble.

  “Steady.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close to his side. “I’m here.”

  She tilted back her head to meet his unwavering gaze. “Always?” The color flooded back as Wynter realized what she’d just asked. “Wait. Forget I said that.”

  He lowered his head to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Yeah, always,” he promised in a husky voice.

  On the point of deepening the kiss, Noah was interrupted as the front door was pulled open. Edgar Moore had obviously heard them pull into the driveway. Straightening, Noah studied the man who was regarding them with a wary gaze.

  The first thing he noticed was that the older man was wearing loose jogging pants and a casual sweatshirt. Noah had never seen the professor in anything but his crisp white shirt and black slacks. The next thing he noticed was that Edgar looked tired. His face was not only pale, but a grayish shade that emphasized the wrinkles that fanned from his bloodshot eyes. Even his hair was rumpled, as if he hadn’t bothered to comb it that morning.

  Noah might have suspected the man had been on a drunken bender if it hadn’t been the clarity in Edgar’s eyes. Not even the glasses could disguise his mind was as razor-sharp as always.

  “Wynter.” Edgar frowned, glancing between his daughter and Noah. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

  “Can we come in?”

  “Of course.” Edgar stepped back, waving them into the living room. Once they were gathered inside, he closed the door and turned to face them. “It’s early for a visit.”

  “I’m not here for a visit,” Wynter told him, her voice tight with the tension that Noah could feel humming through her body.

  Edgar looked confused. “Do you need something?”

  “I want the key to the closet where you keep Mom’s things.”

  The older man jerked at the unexpected demand. “Why?”

  “Because I want to see them.”

  “Why?”

  Wynter made a sound of frustration. Noah suspected this was an argument the two had shared in the past. Probably more than once.

  “Does it matter?” she demanded.

  The older man’s shoulders slumped, as if he was suddenly carrying a heavy weight. Or maybe it was just gravity pulling him down. “Have you been talking to Dr. Tomalin?”

  Wynter blinked at the strange question. “Erika? Not since I saw her at the hospital after Grandpa was shot.”

  “What does Erika have to do with Wynter?” Noah intruded into the conversation. There was obviously something going on with his and Wynter’s former therapist.

  “Nothing.” Edgar reached up to shove his fingers through his tangled hair. “I’m not feeling well this morning.”

  “What’s wrong?” Wynter asked, instantly concerned.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He nodded toward the door. “In fact, I was just about to go back to bed to get some rest. Can we do this some other time?”

  Noah glanced toward Wynter, easily sensing her wavering. The older man seemed like the type of person who used guilt to manipulate others. It wasn’t that uncommon in sons who had bullies as fathers. And no doubt Wynter had traditionally capitulated. She hated conflicts. This morning, however, her expression hardened and her lips flattened to a thin
line.

  “No.”

  Edgar blinked in surprise. “Wynter—”

  “You might as well give her the key,” Noah interrupted. Wynter found it difficult to stand up to her father. He didn’t. “Once we’re done we can get out of your hair and you can take a nap.”

  Edgar’s lips snapped together as he took in Noah’s stubborn expression. Muttering beneath his breath, the older man crossed toward the coffee table next to the low sofa hidden by a hand-crocheted afghan. Picking up a lamp, he grabbed the key that had been hidden under the base. “Here.” Moving back to Wynter, Edgar shoved the key into her hand.

  Wynter sent Noah a hesitant glance. She was having second thoughts about leaving him to deal with her father.

  He nodded his head toward the opening that led to the hallway. “Go ahead. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he assured her.

  “Noah . . .”

  “Go.”

  With a grudging nod, Wynter turned to head out of the living room. Noah watched her leave, hating the thought of them being separated. He wasn’t a lunatic. He didn’t have to keep a constant watch on the woman who owned his heart. But the thought that there was someone out there who wanted to hurt her, perhaps even wanted her dead, made him itchy whenever she was out of his sight.

  “I suppose I should ask what your intentions are toward my daughter?” Edgar’s low words thankfully jerked Noah out of his dark thoughts.

  “I intend to marry her and devote every day of my life to making her happy,” he said without hesitation.

  “Does she feel the same way?”

  It was a simple question, but it didn’t feel simple. Noah was convinced that Wynter enjoyed spending time in his company. And that she was eager to continue sharing his bed. But did she feel the same overwhelming desire to spend the rest of her life with him?

  Noah wrinkled his nose. “That’s a question you’ll have to ask her.”

  Edgar folded his arms over his narrow chest. “What is it you want from me?”

  “I want to know what really happened between you and Wynter’s mother.”