Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (309 page)

Sarah sat up straighter. She hadn’t been aware that the Nelsons thought their daughter had been killed.

“I don’t want to get involved in this. Maybe you could talk to them.”

“I’ll do that. And I’ll talk to Marisa, too.” Sarah hesitated. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you the other day. Things have been stressful around here the past few weeks.”

Gavin smiled. “I didn’t take it personally. As you said, my reputation preceded me.”

Sarah smiled, extending her hand. “Well, if there’s nothing else, Mr. McAllister, I have a date with a very vivacious five-year-old.”

The touch of her hand shocked Gavin, and once again he found himself saying things he’d never meant to say. “I have to go to Richmond today. I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe we could talk about why I’m really here.”

Sarah nodded, “Good.”

“Well, thank you, Sheriff. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I’ve met that vivacious five-year-old, and I don’t want her mad at me.”

Sarah laughed, the ache inside Gavin magnifying. Did she know how beautiful she was when she laughed?

“Nor do I. She’s going to start getting impatient if I don’t hurry. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

#

Dark eyes followed the progress of the Explorer. They grew darker with anger and hatred as he stared at the black-haired man standing waving after them. The fucking whore. He touched his groin. Pain. The ache was becoming a constant pain now. He needed to hear her scream.

It isn’t Mother’s Day
.

Fuck off, bitch
.

It didn’t matter. It never had really. Every day was Mother’s Day. He followed the man as he walked to The Lodge and came out a few minutes later carrying a small bag and briefcase.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. McAllister.”

“Take care, Marisa.”

The car pulled out of the parking lot. Pain. He had to ease the pain. Fucking whore. He’d show her who was boss. He watched the young girl, his hunger growing. So young, so sweet. His mouth filled with saliva as he stared at her lips. He could almost hear her screams.

#

The warm sunshine felt good as Sarah watched Nikki build sand castles. She wished her thoughts were as pleasant. Why had Nikki hugged Gavin McAllister? She’d never hugged Joshua, and she’d known him for years. And why hadn’t she pushed him for an answer when McAllister had said he’d tell her why he was really here?

Her face flamed red as she remembered. Because the touch of his hand had your hormones roaring, that’s why. Time to stop thinking.

“Nikki, we have to leave soon. Juanita will have dinner ready, and you know how grouchy she gets when we’re late.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Nikki rose from the sand pile, dusted off her jeans and reached for her mother’s hand.

“That was easy,” Sarah laughed, as they walked toward the Explorer.

“I’m hungry.”

Sarah laughed again and buckled her in the seat. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been starving for the last hour.”

“You were having fun, so I didn’t want to make you leave.”

Buckling her own seat belt, Sarah reached over and brushed back the tousled curls.

“Oh, so it was me having fun?”

“Mommy, why don’t you like Mr. McAllister?”

The question caught Sarah off guard. Nikki was watching her closely, her expression too serious for a five year old. Sarah chose her words carefully.

“Sometimes adults have problems dealing with each other. I don’t dislike Mr. McAllister, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

“And that brings up a question I have for you. Why did you hug Mr. McAllister?”

Nikki smiled, “I like him. He looks like the pretty lady. I think he’s lost, too.”

Sarah felt the familiar chill go down her spine. “Nikki, have you seen the pretty lady again? You promised me you’d tell me if she came back.”

Nikki screwed up her face as if giving the question great thought. “I’m sorry, Mommy, I forgot.”

“When did you see her, sweetheart?”

“This morning. She said when the bad man came she’d help me hide.”

Sarah drove in silence. She knew Nikki didn’t understand what she was seeing at night, or what was being said to her. But Sarah did, and the thought terrified her. Nikki was in danger. There could be no other reason for Corrine Larson to keep appearing to her, talking to her. She was trying to protect Nikki from something, or someone.
You have to stop him, Sarah, before he kills again
.

“Nikki?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“I want you to listen to the pretty lady, okay? If she says it’s time to hide, then you go with her. Mommy will find you.”

“Okie, dokie.”

Sarah shuddered as the sun went down. She’d always loved the night, but now it seemed darker than usual. She found herself watching the road, the bushes, the trees, looking for places someone could hide. She tried to remember exactly what Nikki had said.
When the bad man comes
. That was it.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Mr. McAllister isn’t the bad man. He’s one of the good guys.”

Sarah nodded. The thought both pleased and terrified her. If it wasn’t Gavin McAllister who was here to destroy her, then who was it? She trembled as the words once again echoed in her mind.
You know
.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A gentle flush crept up Millie’s face as Clarence asked for a second helping of meatloaf. Old fool. Probably die of heartburn tonight, and it’d be all her fault. His comment about needing to put a little spice in her life had angered her. She’d show him spice. Her tongue felt on fire, and she gulped her second glass of water. Had he complained? No, just laughed and kept right on eating as if nothing was wrong.

“You don’t have to eat it to be polite. I know it’s too hot. Here, I’ll fix you something else.” Millie reached for his plate, only to have it pulled away, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter.

“My own fault. I’m the one who said I needed a little spice in my life.”

“Humph. That wasn’t what you said,” Millie grumbled.

Clarence covered her hand with his. It was a good hand, warm, strong, calloused from long hours of working in the earth.

“How about we compromise? Is that jam cake I smell? Sure would go good with a cup of your coffee.”

The gentle squeeze on her hand had the effect of sending her running to the kitchen, eager for a moment to pull herself together. Sadness enveloped her. Why not just enjoy what he was offering? A relationship without trust just couldn’t work, that’s why. And he didn’t know. Didn’t know the truth about her. Millie swiped away the single tear that had escaped. And she couldn’t tell him.

#

The town had grown quiet as Millie and Clarence sat in comfortable silence in the old porch swing sipping coffee. Clarence had noticed her withdrawal when she came back from the kitchen, but took it in stride. Time. She’d come around in time. After all, they were both too old to go anywhere else.

“I bought you a present. Actually, two presents.”

Millie set her cup on the porch and took the small package.

“What is it?”

“I always thought half the fun of presents was opening them.” Clarence hesitated. “Just don’t take offense, okay?”

Millie opened the package, taking out the small .38 caliber pistol and the article on Millicent Garrett Fawcett.

“But …” she stuttered, finding herself suddenly speechless.

“Well, you always seem to get mad at me when I call you Millicent. Thought you might like to know why.”

Millie scanned the article on Dame Millicent Fawcett.

“She was a great woman. Maneuvered and wooed political friends for 50 years. Set the state for women’s suffrage in England. She reminds me a lot of you.” Clarence placed his arm along the back of the porch swing and continued. “When she started her campaign, married women didn’t even own their own clothes and certainly didn’t own or have access to their money, whether it was inherited or earned by their own labors. Why, if it hadn’t been for her long-standing, assiduously won political friendships and achievements, the suffrage movement would have been lost.”

“I never heard of her.” Millie stared at Clarence, leaning back into the arm placed behind her and continuing to read the article.

“Sort of like what happened here. Historians preferred to write about the violence than the hard, day-by-decades of political strategies that actually got the job done. Fawcett is almost a footnote to suffrage history.”

Clarence waited until Millie finished reading the article before continuing. “Always admired strong women. And you remind me of her. I see how you go about every day, not nosing in other people’s business, but still always there to lend a hand. Lady Bounty. Sort of in the background. You make things happen in this town. And I know you don’t need a gun. But, well something’s been bothering me lately. There’s some suspicion that young Nelson girl’s death wasn’t an accident. Feel safer knowing you had it. A woman ought to know how to shoot a gun.”

Millie felt her eyes grow wet. She wouldn’t cry. She was touched by the gifts. Practical, yes, but the old coot cared about her. He just didn’t know her.

“Thank you, Clarence.” Millie’s voice was husky, and she trembled slightly as the arm resting lightly behind her tightened, pulling her close.

“Gotta keep my best girl safe, don’t I?” The words were light, but the gleam in his eyes told her he knew how she was feeling and wasn’t going to push it tonight. He’d give her all the time she needed. Time wouldn’t change the truth. She hadn’t touched a gun in twenty years, but he wouldn’t have to teach her to shoot. She’d grown up with a gun in her hand.

“Well, guess I better get home. Much as I hate to admit it, the old body does need more sleep than it used to. Why don’t you bring Nikki by tomorrow? Show you ladies my new butterfly garden.”

Millie nodded, still too upset to trust herself to speak.

“Good night, Millie.” Clarence placed a light kiss on her cheek.

Millie watched him until he was out of sight. He’d called her Millie. Warmth spread through her until her gaze fell on the small pistol and article. Lies. Everything about her was a lie. Clarence was a good man. She couldn’t do that to him. A tear coursed down the weathered old face. With trembling hands, she placed the gun in the closet and pulled down the old shoebox. She’d already lost so much. Tears flowed freely as she pulled out the faded photograph, her eyes lovingly memorizing every feature of the face smiling at her.

#

Gavin stood in the doorway of the dimly lit bar, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light. It didn’t take him long to spot Carl, seated against the wall, facing the door. Typical.

He started toward the table, stopping short when he saw Carl’s face. He looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past week. Cory was right about one thing—he needed to hurry. Not just to protect Nikki, but also for Carl’s sake. If anything happened to that old man, he’d never forgive himself.

Carl chose that moment to glance up and meet Gavin’s gaze across the room. Gavin smiled and nodded toward the door. He’d never liked bars and liked them even less since Rob had started drinking. Carl nodded, indicating he’d join him as soon as he paid for his drink.

The air was cool and Gavin breathed in deeply, ridding himself of the smell of stale cigarette smoke and whiskey.

“Where you staying?” Carl looked him over, noting the black circles under the eyes, fatigue etched on the handsome face.

“Thought I’d stay with you.” Gavin smiled, hoping to lighten the older man’s load, let him know he was okay.

“’Bout time you said something that made sense. I’ll meet you at the apartment.”

Gavin wondered briefly if he should let him drive, but shrugged it off as he started his own car and followed Carl. In Carl’s present mood, it would have led to a fight. Gavin had a feeling that was coming anyway, and the longer he could delay it, the better off he’d be.

In less than thirty minutes, Carl had him settled into the guest bedroom with the smell of Columbian coffee drifting through the apartment. He’d missed his coffee. Millie’s was great, but there was nothing that compared to the taste of freshly ground Columbian coffee. Carl was waiting for him, mug in hand, and he didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

“What’s up with you and Sarah Burns?”

The question caught Gavin unprepared. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Gavin, don’t lie to me. I know you too well. I heard it in your voice. There’s something there, and before I tell you anything, you gotta give a little.” Carl’s words were slurred, the whiskey beginning to take hold.

“All right. I’ll admit I feel something for her and her daughter. But if she’s part of what happened to Cory, then what I feel won’t matter.”

“You sure?”

Gavin grimaced, as pain sliced through his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then I need something with her fingerprints on it.”

The pain in Gavin’s chest expanded, filling his abdomen. “You don’t think she’s who she says she is?”

“Not unless I believe the dead wake up. The real Sarah Burns died six years ago.”

Gavin stared into the black coffee, looking for an answer he couldn’t find. There could be a thousand reasons a person would take over the identity of a dead person. None of them good. Some of them worth killing to protect.