Shadows of the Past (Logan Point Book #1): A Novel (20 page)

When Taylor opened her computer, Nick’s email was there. She opened the document and quickly scanned it. When she read the part about the text, she stopped and checked her sent folder, then the trash. Just as she expected, there was no text sent from her computer to Scott. But anyone smart enough to set him up would not leave evidence. She called Ben Logan and filled him in.

“Can you get me the cell phone number this text was supposedly sent to?” the sheriff asked.

“Why don’t I have his brother call you? His name is Nick Sinclair. And I’ll forward the email he sent me.”

After she showered and dressed, Taylor descended the stairs, and a child’s voice filtered through the kitchen door. Her heart lifted. Abby was home. “Where’s my favorite niece?” she called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Aunt Tay!” Abby burst from the kitchen and jumped into Taylor’s outstretched arms.

As a toddler Abby couldn’t say Taylor, and the Aunt Tay stuck. “I’ve missed you, pumpkin.”

Abby’s answer was to wrap her arms around Taylor’s neck.

Taylor nuzzled her hair, inhaling strawberry shampoo. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was the best. I rode horses, and swam, and canoed, and my horse’s name was Buttermilk, and I’m going to ask Daddy for a pony.”

Taylor laughed. Chase had been right about the horse. “Whew! Sounds like you did have fun. Hop down, and let’s see how much you’ve grown.”

“I’ve grown two inches since we came to see you.” Abby slid to the floor, her curly blonde ponytail bobbing. Smaller than most eight-year-olds, she stood straight, trying to appear taller. The curls, the blue eyes, the freckles peppering her nose. Except for the color of her hair, Abby was the spitting image of Robyn at that age. The realization caught Taylor unaware, and she blinked back tears. How could Robyn bear not seeing her child? She didn’t like the answer that came to mind. She didn’t want to believe what Livy did—that her sister-in-law was probably dead.

Abby cocked her head to the side. “Is something wrong, Aunt Tay?”

Taylor touched the tip of Abby’s nose. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad to see you.” She held her arm out, measuring her niece’s height. “I believe you have grown two inches.”

Chase appeared in the doorway. “Y’all standing out here in the hall all day?”

Taylor grabbed her niece’s hand. “We’re coming.”

As she passed Chase, he stopped her. “Can we talk later? About the land? Jonathan says he’s going to call a meeting after the picnic.”

“I talked to him earlier this morning, and he’s going to wait until after the weekend.”

Chase hugged her. “I knew you could still wrap him around your little finger.”

In the kitchen, Abby climbed on a stool by the breakfast bar and patted the one beside it. “Sit here.”

Her mom was her old self as she placed a cinnamon roll in front of her granddaughter. “Who wants to help me load the van and take the food down to the lake?”

“Me!” Abby cried.

“I’ll help,” Taylor replied in answer to a “look” from her mother. Anytime she received a pointed look and raised eyebrows it was best to agree with whatever her mother suggested.

“Good. I’ll start loading around three.” She took a ham from the refrigerator and arranged pineapple slices around it, securing them with toothpicks, and then opened a bottle of maraschino cherries.

“I want one!” Abby cried.

Laughing, Mom plopped a cherry in her granddaughter’s open mouth. She turned to Chase. “Would you load the ice chest?”

Chase nodded and pulled Abby’s ponytail. “Come on, pumpkin. You need to unpack, and after lunch you need to rest.”

“Aw, Dad, I’m not tired.”

“Abby . . .”

She turned to Taylor. “Would you help me unpack?”

“Sure, honey.” As they climbed the stairs, Taylor smiled. Chase was a great dad. Her thoughts wandered to Nick, and immediately she forced them away. No need to go there.

B
y five o’clock, if Taylor had explained where she’d been the last ten years to one person, she’d told a hundred. She’d endured matchmaking attempts and smiled until her cheeks hurt. Once or twice she even caught herself watching for Nick. Tired of mingling, she sought out a cool place under a huge oak where a light breeze touched her cheek. Abby and her friends caught her attention as they jumped off a wooden pier. Her heart hitched as she saw herself twenty years ago. Jumping off the pier. Swimming to the raft anchored a hundred yards off shore, then swimming back to the shore. Her dad watching.

Taylor brushed away the memories, but she couldn’t brush away the ache of not knowing why he left. She wanted answers, and somehow, she had to find a way to get them.

“So this is where you got off to.”

Taylor looked around. Jonathan was pulling up a chair beside her. “I’m hiding out,” she replied. “If one more person says they can fix me up with a date, I’ll scream.”

“That bad, huh?” Jonathan stretched out his long legs and crossed his hands over his belly.

“Yes.” Taylor was half-tempted to ask Jonathan more questions about her dad. No. She didn’t want a repeat of this morning. She
studied her uncle. Would her dad be balding now? Overweight? In her dreams, his features were indistinct, blurry.

“What are you working on with Livy? That new murder case with the woman found by the interstate?”

Jonathan’s question brought her back to the present. “Nope, another murder case.” Taylor glanced across to the dirt road where the cars were parked. Livy had arrived in her white Chevy SUV. She nodded toward her friend. “But Livy might know something about that case. Not that she’d tell you anything.”

Jonathan turned and looked. “Bet I can get something out of her.”

Taylor threw down the challenge. “Bet you can’t.”

He shot her a sly glance. “You’re on.”

When Livy plopped into a chair beside them with a sigh, Taylor laughed. “You sound tired. Thought you were taking the weekend off.”

“I did. I called Kate and discovered she had a to-do list a mile long, so I offered to help. Just delivered the last order of mugs.”

“How about a glass of lemonade?” Jonathan asked.

“Wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Livy’s tone said otherwise.

“No trouble.” Jonathan stood and ambled to the drink table.

“It’s a bribe,” Taylor said. “He wants to know what’s going on in that woman’s murder investigation.”

“He’s wasting his energy. The feds aren’t leaking anything. Do you want me to go with you to interview Lieutenant Wilson?”

“That’d be great,” Taylor said, then nodded toward a grassy area where Abby and two of her friends had moved to practice their gymnastic moves. Abby arched her back and bent backward until her hands touched the ground. “She’s good.”

Livy laughed. “Glad she took after you instead of me. By the way, I had a long conversation with Nick while I was at Kate’s. He’s such a nice guy.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t go there.” Taylor wagged her finger. The memory of his kiss sent a warm flush to her face.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Taylor’s gaze slid past her friend. “Oh, look, there’s Rachel.”

Livy turned. Their former schoolmate had stopped to swing a toddler into her husband’s arms. At their side, a smaller, towhead version of the husband pulled at a German shepherd puppy.

Livy shook her head. “The little one there, he’s all boy. And there’s another one running around somewhere. Never figured Rachel for the three kids routine. Figured she’d be a lawyer or something.”

If she and Nick . . . what would their child look like?
Don
’t go there. He’s too good to be true
.
Taylor traced her finger around the cup holder on the chair arm. “Would you trade places with her?”

“No!” Livy shot a sharp glance toward Taylor. “Would you?”

Taylor hesitated. “No, I guess not. She got a good man, though . . . and speaking of men, I almost called you earlier yelling ‘
ma chère
.’”

“Who’d you need rescuing from?” Livy glanced across the picnic area. “Old Mr. Peabody?”

“Mr. Peabody I could deal with. Mrs. Lizzie and her cronies I can’t. ‘Taylor, honey, you simply must meet my nephew Bert.’” She mimicked the older woman’s high-pitched nasal tone.

Livy burst out laughing. “They got you, did they?”

“Now I know why you avoid Logan Point as much as possible.”

Accompanied by her mom and Ethan, Jonathan rejoined them and handed Livy a tall glass of lemonade. “Here you go, Ms. Reynolds.”

Livy accepted the drink with a twinkle in her eye. “Thank you, Mr. Martin. And before you ask, I’ll tell you, I know nothing.”

Jonathan shot Taylor a frown. “Did you —”

“Not one word.” Taylor palmed her hands. Then she grinned. “Well, maybe two . . .”

“The feds are keeping a tight lid on this case,” Livy said.

“I’m glad you could make it, Livy.” Her mom reached down and gave Livy a hug while Ethan hovered in the background. “Are Kate and Charlie coming?”

“Not sure about Charlie, but Kate was packing her basket when I left.”

Mom glanced toward Ethan. “Livy, do you know Ethan?”

“I’ve seen him around the CJC a few times.” Livy extended her hand. “Congratulations on making it to the governor’s judgeship list.”

“Thank you.”

Taylor flicked a glance toward the couple. Ethan stood with his hand resting on the small of her mom’s back, as it had been off and on all afternoon. A question wormed its way into her mind. How would she feel if something really did develop between the two? Unease settled in her stomach. Somehow, she couldn’t see her mother with anyone other than her father. Which was ludicrous.

Taylor’s attention was drawn to her niece as she raced toward them.

“Aunt Tay! Come watch me dive off the pier!”

Abby stopped short and squealed when she saw Livy. “Aunt Livy!” Bounding toward them, she grabbed Livy’s hand, and then Taylor’s. “Both of you, come.”

Laughing, they rose and followed Abby to the water’s edge.

“Watch me!” Abby shouted. She raced down the pier and jumped, flipping in midair before diving into the water.

“Good dive!” Kate yelled behind them when Abby surfaced.

Taylor turned and grinned at Kate. She hadn’t seen her arrive. “I’m glad you made it.”

Kate’s answer was lost as Taylor caught sight of Nick. Instantly, the sky deepened a little bluer, and a golden glow settled on the picnic. A warning sounded in her head, but Taylor ignored it as she remembered his lips on hers and felt an idiotic smile stretch across her face. She probably looked like a Cheshire cat.

“You look good.” His eyes reflected his words.

Taylor barely noticed as Livy took her aunt’s basket and the two walked toward the picnic tables. She touched the French braid, glad she’d taken the time. “Thanks. Do you want to sit in the shade?”

“I can’t stay.”

The three words sank her good mood. “Why not?”

“The hospital called. They’re discharging Scott.”

“Now? Today?”

He nodded. “He’s waiting. Oh, and I talked with Sheriff Logan and gave him Scott’s phone number. He’s going to check for the message. Did you get my email?”

“Yes. I forwarded it to Ben,” Taylor said. “Not sure what I think about Scott’s story, but I do have a few questions to ask him.”

He nodded. “I wish I could stay longer. How long will the picnic go on? If it’s not too late, maybe you could come over to the B and B later?”

“I don’t have to talk to Scott today. After church tomorrow will be good with me.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re going to church?”

Taylor grimaced. “Short of dying, there’s not much way of getting past Mom on this one.”

“Good for her.” Nick leaned closer to her. “And I wasn’t asking you over to see Scott.”

She lowered her gaze as her heart turned somersaults.

Nick lifted her chin. “I want to see you.”

“You do?” Were those the only words she could get out of her mouth? Any other time she’d have something witty to say. That’s why she hated the dating thing—she was no better at banter now than she’d been as a teenager.

“Of course I do.” He glanced around the picnic area. “I guess I better go . . .”

He made no move to leave, and instead swept his arm toward the lake. “This would make a great boys’ camp.”

Taylor turned and tried to look at the area from that perspective. “It would, wouldn’t it?”

“Any chance your family would sell twenty acres?”

“I don’t know. My uncle seems to be in a selling mood. I can ask him.”

“That would be great. Well, I better go.” He stepped back, almost colliding with Pete Connelly.

Taylor jerked her hand toward him. “Watch out!”

Too late. Nick tried to catch the plate that sailed through the air and landed food side down. “Sorry, man!”

“No problem.” Pete scooped the plate off the ground.

Taylor couldn’t keep from laughing. She thought she was the only one who did things like that. “I’ll take that,” she said and reached for the plate. “Nick Sinclair, meet Pete Connelly. He works for my uncle here on the farm.”

Nick’s face matched his red shirt. “I hope that wasn’t the last piece of ham.”

“Nah. I saw plenty more.”

“Good.” Nick took a deep breath. “Okay, this time I’m leaving. Nice to meet you, Pete.”

As Nick walked to his truck, Taylor looked for a place to dump the plate.

“I want to apologize for the other day.”

She glanced sharply at Pete. “For . . . ?”

“I was kind of rude, staring at you like I did. But it’s been a while since I’ve seen you and you looked great. But I could tell I made you uncomfortable.”

Taylor wrinkled her brows in a frown. “You didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” He lifted his hand as if to reassure her. “Just sort of hoped things had changed since high school.”

Maybe she’d misjudged Pete. “It’s not that I don’t like you. We just never had a lot in common. And I don’t like the way you stare at me.”

“It won’t happen again.” His lips curved upward. “I’d like to be friends . . . seeing as we’ll probably be running into each other a lot while you’re here.”

Friends? Taylor didn’t know if she could go that far. Besides, she wouldn’t be here that long. But she held out her free hand. “Okay, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

He flashed a quick grin and shook her hand. “Anytime you need help with anything, let me know. Your mom always lets me work on things for her. Computer, printer, get the mail, most anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But right now, what I need is a garbage bin.” She liked this new version of Pete Connelly, now that he wasn’t staring at her like a lizard contemplating lunch. The “William Tell Overture” played from her shorts pocket.

“See you,” Taylor said and fished her phone out. She looked at the caller ID. Christine, her friend and colleague from Newton.

“Hey, Taylor. What’s going on in Logan Point?” Christine asked.

“Nothing much, just a picnic.” Taylor had meant to call Christine earlier.

“Sounds nice. Did you find Scott?”

Taylor trashed the plate, then fanned herself with her hand. “Sort of, but he’s been in the hospital, so I haven’t questioned him yet.”

“Hospital? What happened?”

Taylor filled her in about the fire. “He’s not my stalker, but I do think he knows something. Just don’t know what.”

“His brother wouldn’t have anything to do with your change of mind, would he?”

“You do have a vivid imagination,” Taylor replied. “Did you ask at the administrative office if anyone called looking for me?”

“I did, and no one remembers any calls, but if someone gave out your information, they might not admit it. Oh, I almost forgot. There was a breach in security—someone hacked into the university email system.”

So, Zeke nailed that one when he suggested someone had gotten into her email.

“That explains why the site crashed the other day.” She smoothed back a strand of hair that had escaped the braid. She’d bought her plane tickets online. Maybe that’s how her stalker knew where she was. “Do they know who did it?”

“Not a clue. And even though the administration claims they straightened it out and no harm was done, you might want to make sure no one is using your credit card.”

They talked a few minutes more, and Taylor promised to call Christine the first of the week before she hung up and walked to the picnic tables.

Livy joined her in the food line and gave her a nudge. “So what’s going on with you and Nick?”

“We’re just friends.” What was it with everyone wanting to know about her love life?

“The looks you two exchanged tell a different story. Just be careful you don’t get your heart broken.” Livy’s soft words had an edge to them.

Taylor narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Just sayin’. I understand his wife died not too long ago.”

“It’s been two and a half years.”

“Sometimes grief takes longer than that. He may not be ready to commit to a serious relationship.”

“I’m not sure
I
’m
ready for anything serious. And what makes you an expert on relationships, anyway? I’m the psychologist.”

Livy’s green eyes darkened. “Yes, but I read more romance novels.”

Did she detect sadness in Livy’s voice? Then her friend laughed, and Taylor laughed with her. “Well, we’re just talking, that’s all,” Taylor added.

Livy lifted her brows.

“That’s all.” Taylor grabbed two paper plates and shoved one into Livy’s hands. “Isn’t that Kate’s potato salad?”

“Just be careful with your heart,” Livy said and started filling her plate.

It might be too
late for that.
Taylor turned to the food on the table. After she filled her plate, she spied Ethan sitting by himself. “I’ll join you in a bit. I’ve been meaning to talk to Ethan since seeing his name in Wilson’s report.”

Taylor balanced her plate and a drink as she strolled toward Ethan. “I see you’ve been deserted. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Love to have you.” He grinned at her before he speared a piece of ham.