Reclaim My Life (13 page)

“He’s not
my
sheriff. Besides, what makes you think he’s going to discuss his investigation with me? I could be a suspect.”

Kris snorted. “Then I am, too. And Sunny.”

Twisting off the cap of her Gatorade, Elizabeth slid into the chair opposite Kris. “We were the last to see her alive. I can’t think about Friday night without wondering what we missed. Was there someone lurking in her minivan? Someone in the parking lot who followed her home?”

“Yeah—and did they ever find her minivan?”

“If so, it hasn’t made the news.” Elizabeth nodded toward her copy of the
Drake Springs Democrat
on the table, which she’d refolded after reading that morning.

“You mean there’s news in that weekly?” Kris snorted. “I thought it was eighteen pages of advertisements.”

“We have to keep up with what’s on sale at Family Dollar.”

“This whole murder thing creeps me out, man. I took a teaching job in this tiny community because of the quality of life here.” She took another drink of her soda. “Hunh. It certainly wasn’t for the salary.”

“Me, too.” It wasn’t a total lie. The quality of life for a relocated witness definitely improved in an out-of-the-way town like Drake Springs, provided she stayed hidden. “I love the slower pace, the friendliness, the lower prices—”

“The inconvenience, the nosy people who know everyone’s business, the limited shopping—”

“Not that you’re complaining.” Elizabeth chuckled.

“Actually,” Kris said, “I wasn’t until something happened to one of our friends. Now I’m wondering if I’d been just as well off with my job in Charlotte.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “This is way better weather than North Carolina.”

“Unless that tropical storm turns into a hurricane. But hurricanes hit the Carolinas, too, so that’s no argument.” Kris finished her Diet Coke. “I better go so you can get ready for your date. Remember: you promised you’d give the guy a chance.”

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. “I did?”

Kris frowned. “I mean it. Cathleen’s murder has me thinking. Life’s so short and fragile. Maybe I wrote off Adam too quickly. He’s decent, knows how to treat a woman. And frankly, I miss sex.”

Elizabeth would’ve laughed ordinarily, but not with Kris’s change in mood. “Why not give Adam a call? Invite him over for popcorn and a movie. Take my copy of
Moonstruck.”

“And have him think I’m desperate?”

“Yeah.”

Kris giggled. “Oh, maybe you’re right. I could do that. So let’s both practice what I preach: Don’t be afraid to grab a little happiness. Deal?”

“Deal. But even if Adam’s not available tonight, don’t give up on him.”

“If Adam turns me down, I’ll curl up with a glass of merlot and watch
Moonstruck
by myself.” With her braid bouncing against her back, Kris sauntered to the door. “Have fun tonight. I want all the details tomorrow on the ride to White Springs.”

At the door, Elizabeth handed her the
Moonstruck
DVD. “I don’t mind driving if you don’t mind the pickup.”

Kris turned, taking a few steps backward toward the driveway. “Fine with me. I’ll leave my
Lexus
at home.”

They both laughed at her imitation of Sunny. Kris got in her older model Mazda, backed out of the driveway, and drove off with a wave. Elizabeth checked the time and rushed inside. If Wilson was going to arrive at five, she barely had time to make dinner.

Wil pulled the Jeep into Elizabeth’s driveway at six. After he’d received the preliminary report from the Medical Examiner’s Office in Jacksonville, he’d had to call Elizabeth to change the time he’d be there for dinner. He couldn’t rush out of the station when he needed to hold a meeting with the deputies. His most senior officer, Chief Deputy Fred Fischer, stayed in contact with the CSI. Devon Winston took over the search for the victim’s vehicle while Geraldo coordinated the search of the river. Wil kept his cell phone at the ready in case anything turned up in either search.

With time of death established to be no later than midnight Friday, he had a handle on reconstructing the timeline for Cathleen Hodges’s last hours. He assigned Brady the task of charting the timeline and verifying alibis. Brady also waited to hear from the police in Arkansas about Michael Moore, the abusive ex.

For a few short hours he needed a break from the case, hardly the attitude of a dedicated county official. But Dad needed him, too. Mostly, he yearned to have Elizabeth with him in the old home place—to see how well she’d fit into his mental picture of their future. Not that he’d admit it to her.

Besides, technically, he needed to question her about her whereabouts after last seeing Cathleen Hodges. Okay, that was a stretch. He wanted every procedure on the case handled by the book—that much was true. He also wanted to be with Elizabeth.

He rang the doorbell but didn’t have to wait. Smiling, she pulled it open immediately. She’d never looked more beautiful, although he didn’t know what was different. She seemed flushed with excitement or pleasure. Or maybe she’d been outside in the ninety-degree heat.

“Come in.” She turned, leading him to the dining room, her bare feet noiseless on the gray carpet. “I hope you like salad.”

He liked anything to do with Elizabeth. He liked that she didn’t keep him waiting. He liked the way the denim shorts molded against her thighs and hips, the way the tan T-shirt hugged her curves. He especially liked the red toenails so at odds with the rest of her.
Nail polish? Elizabeth? Hmm
.

“Salad’s great.”

“I figured you were busy and might not have much time, and this was easy.” She motioned him to sit. “It’s just tuna.”

Just tuna? More accurately, the plate held a chef salad with a scoop of tuna salad on top, the kind he’d paid ten bucks for in a chain restaurant in Jacksonville. “Darlin’, it’s perfect.”

They ate, cleaned up, then grabbed the DVD to take to his dad’s. Elizabeth slid her feet into moccasins, and disappointment filled him. He’d found her fiery red toes incredibly sexy.

At the door, she hesitated, staring at his Jeep. “Should I follow you in my truck? You know, in case you get called out?”

The simple question reached deep inside him and tugged at his heart. His official Foster County Sheriff’s vehicle with its logo on the side attracted attention. Consideration for his work ethic earned her another checkmark on his perfect wife questionnaire. “Personal use of the Jeep is part of my salary package. Even if it wasn’t, I’d rather see you home safely, especially with a killer on the loose.”

“I appreciate that. Sunny, Kris, and I talked about safety in numbers. None of us wants to be out alone after dark.”

She locked up, then followed him to the Jeep. During the short drive out Main Street, she asked about his home.

“I’m not far outside the city limits. Our driveway pulls off this road. Drake Oaks stretches from County Road 471 to the Suwannee River, a total of eighty acres.”

“That’s a lot of lawn to mow.”

Chuckling, Wil shook his head. “Truth is, most of it is a pine tree farm now. There’s a cottage on the river that I’m remodeling. That’s where I live. Dad lives in the first floor of the main house, a Victorian my grandmother had built.”

“Is this the same grandmother who opened the college?”

He couldn’t remember telling Elizabeth that fact. Had she been researching him, too? Or just listening to local gossip? “Yes, darlin’. Charlotte Drake. She was quite the matriarch. I’m named after her, did you know that?”

She chuckled. “No,
Charlotte
, I had no idea.”

He pulled a face, then smiled. “Well, not the Charlotte part. Gram was a Wilson before marrying Grandpa, and she was the sole heir of the Wilson Drug Store chain. They closed about thirty years ago. She devoted her life to raising my father and opening a liberal arts college. Then she wound up raising her grandkids.”

“What about your parents?”

“Mom died in a car wreck when I was twelve. Gram had moved us into the big house after Grandpa died, so she just naturally returned to her role as mistress of Drake Oaks.” He didn’t explain how he’d lost his mother long before the auto accident. Some dirty laundry shouldn’t be aired.

“You make it sound like a plantation.”

Wil nodded. “I think that’s exactly how Gram saw it. She was quite a lady.”

“Yes, grandmothers have a special role in our lives.” She gazed out the window sorrowfully, probably with her own grandmother on her mind.

“But Drake Oaks was never a plantation. Truth is, the Drakes bought the land from carpetbaggers after the War of Northern Aggression, as folks around here refer to the War Between the States.”

“At the Battle of Olustee reenactment, I learned that Florida’s capital was the only one that didn’t fall to the Yankees.”

Wil noticed the sadness tinging her voice. “Did you go with Cathleen?”

She nodded. “And Sunny and Kris, too.”

He slowed the Jeep to make the sharp turn into the driveway, then stopped in front of the porch steps. “Here we are.”

She stared at the house. “Oh, my. I adore those porches. You must have loved growing up here.”

“You know how it is when you’re a kid. You don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

“How true.” Without waiting for him to open her door, she stepped out of the Jeep and gazed at the second-story porch. “Nobody lives upstairs?”

“Not anymore. My sister, Taylor, travels a lot. She has an apartment in California. And Sam lives in the dean’s residence on campus.”

Wil ushered Elizabeth up the porch and to the front door. Testing the knob, he found it unlocked. He opened the door and hollered, “Dad?” Then he braced himself for Sophie to rush into the entry hall.

The television blared in the background. Wil strained to hear. Where was the dog? Typically, she’d whack him with her wagging tail and butt his hand with her head, demanding to be petted.

She wouldn’t leave his father, though, if he was in trouble.

Wil’s pulse quickened with concern, and he raised his voice. “Dad? Sophie?”

“What?” Elizabeth’s quiet voice answered behind him. “What did you call me?”

“Sophie’s the dog.” Then he heard it—his father’s weak cry for help. “Dad!”

He rushed into the den, Elizabeth right behind him, and his heart stopped. Dad and Sophie lay on the floor tangled up in the overturned wheelchair.

Wil’s father struggled to move, but the overturned wheelchair pinned him to the floor, trapping Sophie’s leg.

“What happened, Dad? Did Sophie trip you?”

His dad must have heard the alarm in his voice. “It’s Sophie. She ate some of the rat poison. I fell over hanging onto her collar to keep her away from it.” But the tears in Dad’s eyes only frightened Wil more. Dad never cried— he hadn’t even when Wil’s mom had died. “Help her, son. Don’t let her die.”

Elizabeth kneeled beside Sophie and reached for Dad’s hand, which tightly gripped the dog’s collar. “You can let go, Mr. Drake. I have her.”

“That fool Hazel. She saw a little old mouse in the kitchen and went crazy with the poison.” Tears trickled from Dad’s eyes. Wil considered drying his face but decided against it. Even distraught, his proud father wouldn’t appreciate Wil’s interference.

“You did the right thing holding onto her.” Elizabeth spoke in a soothing voice that carried an air of authority. He had to hand it to her: her confident tone nearly convinced him, too, especially when she raised the dog’s eyelids to examine her eyes. “Help your father up, and find me some peroxide—pronto.”

Pulling his dad upright, Wil steadied the wheelchair and helped the old man sit.

“Peroxide’s under the sink, son.”

“Wilson,” Elizabeth said, “this dog needs medical attention. Bring me peroxide and a large spoon.”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry, Dad, I forgot my manners. This is Elizabeth Stevens. She brought us over a movie to watch about cars.”

She narrowed her eyes at Wil, and he took the hint. “Be right back.”

Elizabeth murmured something to his dad as Wil hurried from the room. In the bathroom, he located peroxide and then carried the bottle to the den. With a quick detour to the kitchen, he grabbed a soupspoon from the flatware drawer.

Wil stooped beside Elizabeth, handing her the bottle and spoon. “How can I help?”

“Hold her.”

Elizabeth poured peroxide into the spoon. Then to his horror, she forced Sophie’s jaws apart and spooned peroxide into her mouth. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Inducing vomiting.” Elizabeth gazed up at Wil, her troubled eyes searching his. “How much does she weigh, about eighty pounds?”

“About that. Why?”

“All right.” Again she poured peroxide into the spoon and poured it into Sophie’s mouth. Then she repeated the process, this time with a smaller amount. “If the rodenticide gets into her system, it can—” She stopped and cut her gaze toward his dad. “I don’t suppose you could get us inside Cathleen’s animal hospital—”

“I have the keys.”

“What we need is there. Do you know how to reach her assistant?”

“No, but my deputy, Jamie Peterson, does.”

She ran her fingers over Sophie’s leg, apparently examining it for injury from the wheelchair. “See if she can get her to meet us there.”