The Smoky Mountain Mist (3 page)

And then what? Why couldn’t she remember what had happened next?

Her head felt thick and heavy as she tried to lift it. In her chest, her heart beat a frantic cadence of panic.

Where was this place? How had she gotten here? Why couldn’t she remember anything beyond her father’s graveside funeral service?

She knew time must have passed. The light seeping into the small room was faint and rosy-hued, suggesting either sunrise or sunset. The funeral had taken place late in the morning.

How had she gotten here?

Why was
he
here?

“What is this?” she asked. Her voice sounded shaky, frightening her further. Why couldn’t she muster the energy to move?

She needed to get out of here. She needed to go home, find something familiar and grounding, to purge herself of the panic rising like floodwaters in her brain.

“Shh.” Seth spoke softly. “It’s okay, Ms. Davenport. You’re okay.”

She pushed past her strange lethargy and sat up, her head swimming. “What did you do to me?”

His expression shifted, as if a hardened mask covered his features. “What can you remember?”

She shoved at the crocheted throw tangled around her legs. “That’s not for me to answer!” she growled at him, flailing a little as the throw twisted itself further around her limbs, trapping her in place.

Seth unfolded himself slowly from the chair, rising to his full height. He wasn’t the tallest man she’d ever met, but he was tall enough and imposing without much effort. It was those eyes, she thought. Sharp and focused, as if nothing could ever slip past him without notice. Full of mystery, as well, as if he knew things no one else did or possibly could.

Her fear shifted into something just as dangerous.

Fascination.

Snake and bird,
she thought as he walked closer, his pace unhurried and deceptively unthreatening.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He plucked at the crocheted blanket until it slithered harmlessly away from her body. He never touched her once, but somehow she felt his hands on her anyway, strong and warm. A flush washed over her, heating her from deep inside until she thought she was going to spontaneously combust.

What the hell was wrong with her?

He asked you a question,
the rational part of her brain reminded her.
Answer the question. Maybe he knows something you need to know.

Instead, she tried to make a run for the door she spotted just beyond his broad shoulders. She made it a few steps before her wobbling legs gave out on her. She plunged forward, landing heavily against the man’s body.

His arms whipped around her, holding her upright and pinning her against his hard, lean body. The faint scent of aftershave filled her brain with a fragment of a memory—strong arms, a gentle masculine murmur in her ear, the salty-sweet taste of flesh beneath her tongue—

She tore herself out of his grasp and stumbled sideways until she came up hard against the wall. Her hair spilled into her face, blinding her. She shook it away. “What did you do to me?”

She had meant the question to be strong. Confrontational. But to her ears, it sounded weak and plaintive, like a brokenhearted child coming face-to-face with a world gone mad.

Or maybe it’s not the world that’s gone mad,
a mean little voice in the back of her head taunted.

Maybe it’s you.

Chapter Three

Seth met Rachel Davenport’s terrified gaze and felt sick. It didn’t help that he knew he’d done nothing wrong. She clearly believed he had. And he would find few defenders if she made her accusation public.

Cleve Calhoun had always told him it never paid to help people. “They hate you for it.”

What if Cleve was right?

“You’re awake.” The sound of Delilah’s voice behind him, calm and emotionless, sent a jolt down his nervous system.

Rachel’s attention shifted toward Delilah in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Delilah Hammond,” Delilah answered. She took the crocheted throw Seth was still holding and started folding it as she walked past him toward the sofa. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel admitted. Her wary gaze shifted back and forth from Delilah to Seth. “I don’t remember what happened.”

Delilah slanted a quick look at Seth. “That’s one of the symptoms.”

“Symptoms of what?” Rachel asked, looking more and more panicky.

“GHB use,” Delilah answered. “Apparently you did a little partying last night.”

“What?” Rachel’s panic elided straight into indignation. “What are you suggesting, that I did drugs or something?”

“Considering my brother found you about to do a double gainer off Purgatory Bridge—”

“I don’t think you planned to jump off,” Seth said quickly, shooting his sister a hard look. “But you were not entirely in control of yourself.”

Delilah’s eyebrows arched delicately. Rachel just looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“I was not on Purgatory Bridge last night,” she said flatly. “I would never, ever...” She looked nauseated by the idea.

“You were on the bridge,” he said quietly. “Apparently whatever you took last night has affected your memory.”

“I don’t...take drugs.” Her anger faded again, and the fear returned, shining coldly in her blue eyes.

“Maybe someone gave something to you without your knowledge.”

Seth’s suggestion only made her look more afraid. “I don’t remember going anywhere last night. I don’t—” She stopped short, pressing her fingertips against her lips. “I don’t remember anything.”

“If you took GHB—”

Seth shot his sister a warning look.

She made a slight face at him and rephrased. “If someone slipped you GHB or something like it, it’s not uncommon for you to experience amnesia about the hours before and after the dosage.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Seth asked.

Rachel stared at him. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” he said. “I can take you home.”

She shook her head quickly. “Her. She can take me.”

Damn, that hurt more than he expected. “Okay. But what do you plan to tell your family?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want people to ask uncomfortable questions.”

Her expression shifted again, and her gaze rose to Seth’s face. “My father would know what to do.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry he’s not here for you.”

Her eyes darkened with pain. “Did you know my father asked if I thought he should hire you?” she said slowly. “He told me your record. Admitted it would be a risk. I don’t know why he asked me. At the time, I didn’t have much to do with the company. I guess now I know why.”

“He trusted your instincts,” Seth said.

She looked down at her hands. “Maybe he shouldn’t have.”

“What did you tell him?” Delilah asked, her tone curious. “About Seth?”

Rachel’s gaze snapped up to meet Seth’s. “I told him to give the man a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Seth said.

“I’ve been known to be wrong.”

Ouch again.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she looked away, her profile cool and distant. To Delilah, she said, “I would appreciate a ride home. Do you think I should go to a doctor? To get tested for—” She stopped short, agony in her expression.

“Probably,” Delilah said. “I could drive you to Knoxville if you don’t want to see anyone local.”

She shot Delilah a look of gratitude, the first positive expression Seth had seen from her since she’d awoken. “Yes. Please.”

As Delilah directed her out to the truck, she looked over her shoulder at her brother. “I’ll take care of her.” She followed Rachel out into the misty morning drizzle falling outside.

He nodded his gratitude and watched them from the open doorway until the truck disappeared around the bend, swallowed by the swirling fog. Then he grabbed his keys and headed out to the Charger, ignoring the urge to go back inside and catch some sleep.

He had to talk to a man about a girl.

* * *

N
O
SIGN
OF
recent sexual activity. The doctor’s words continued ringing in her ears long after he’d left her to dress for departure. He’d said other things as well—preliminary tox screen was negative, but if she’d consumed GHB or another similar drug, it might not be easily detectible on a standard test. And depending on how long it had been since the drug was administered, it might not show up on a more specific analysis. He’d seemed indifferent to her decision not to test for it.

She supposed he had patients who needed him more than she did.

“How are you doing?” Delilah Hammond looked around the closed curtain, her expression neutral. There was an uncanny stillness about the other woman, an ability to remain calm and focused despite having a drug-addled woman dumped in her lap to take care of. She had a vague memory that there had been a Hammond girl from the Bitterwood area who’d become an FBI agent.

“I’m fine,” Rachel lied. “Are you an FBI agent?”

Delilah’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Um, not anymore. I left the FBI years ago. I work for a private security company now.”

“Oh.”

“What did the doctor tell you?” she asked gently.

“No sign of sexual activity, but they also couldn’t find a toxicological explanation for my memory loss. Something about the tests not being good at spotting GHB or drugs like it.”

“You don’t have any memory of where you might have gone last night?” Delilah picked up Rachel’s discarded clothes from the chair next to the exam table and handed them to her.

“None. The last thing I remember is being at the cemetery.”

Delilah left the exam area without being asked, giving Rachel a chance to change back into her own clothes in private. When Rachel called her name once she’d finished dressing, Delilah came back around the curtain.

“Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” Delilah said. “Because I’d want someone to be straight with me. I know about Mark Bramlett and the murders. I know that they all seemed to be connected to Davenport Trucking in some way. Or, more accurately, connected to you.”

Rachel put her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “Why do I feel as if everybody knows more about what’s going on in my life than I do?”

“If someone’s targeting you, up to this point it’s been pretty oblique. But drugging you up and leaving you to fend for yourself outside on a cold October night while you’re high as a kite?” Delilah shook her head. “That’s awfully direct, if you ask me. You really need to figure out why someone would want you out of the way.”

“You think I should go to the police.”

The other woman’s brow furrowed. “Normally, I’d say yes.”

“But?”

“But is there any reason why it might not be in your best interest for the police to be involved?”

Rachel’s head was pounding. “I don’t know. I can’t think.”

“Okay, okay.” Delilah laid her hands on Rachel’s shoulders, her touch soothing. “You don’t have to make that decision right now. Let’s get you home and settled in. Is there someone there who can keep an eye on you until you’re feeling more like yourself?”

“No,” Rachel said, remembering that her stepmother had made plans to leave for Wilmington after the funeral. Diane’s sister had invited Diane to visit for a few days. Paul had his own place, and while she and her stepbrother were friendly enough, she wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him to play nursemaid. She already suspected he thought she was in over her head at the trucking company. He might even be right.

She didn’t want to give him more reasons to doubt her.

“I’d offer to watch after you myself, but I have to drive to Alabama as soon as I can get away. I have a meeting with my boss, and it’s a long drive. But you’re welcome to stay at the house while I’m gone.”

She wondered if Seth was staying there, too. She didn’t let herself ask. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine at home by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

Rachel nodded, even though she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

* * *

“S
MOKY
J
OE
” B
RESLIN
WASN
’
T
exactly thrilled when Seth roused him from bed on a rainy morning to answer a few questions, and his responses were laced liberally with profanities and lubricated by a few shots of good Tennessee whiskey. Seth had never been much of a drinker, so he nursed a single shot while Breslin knocked back three without blinking.

“Yeah, she was in here last night. Looked like a hothouse flower in a weed patch, but she seemed to be enjoying the music. And there were a few fellows who enjoyed lookin’ at her, so who was I to judge?”

“Was she alone?” Seth asked.

“No, came in with some frat boy type. He tried a little something with her and she gave him a whack in the face, and some of the boys escorted him out. Not long after that, she headed out of here.”

“What kind of condition was she in?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really watchin’ when she left. I know she wasn’t fallin’-down drunk or nothin’.”

“You didn’t check to make sure she wasn’t driving?”

“Hell, you know how it can get around here on a busy night! I can’t babysit everybody who comes here for the show. I do know she didn’t have much to drink, so I didn’t worry too much about it.”

Which meant that unless she’d gone somewhere else to drink, it hadn’t been alcohol alone that had put her up on that bridge.

“What can you tell me about the frat boy?” he asked Joe.

The older man grimaced. “Just some slicked-down city fellow. You know the type, comes in here with his nose in the air givin’ everyone the stink-eye like he was better than them. I was glad to see the girl give him what for, if you want my opinion.” Joe poured another glass of whiskey and motioned to top off Seth’s.

Seth waved him off. “Did he pay for the drinks?”

“Yeah.”

“Cash or credit?”

“Credit. One of them gold-type cards for big spenders. Flashed it like it was a Rolex watch or something.”

“Would you have the receipt?”

Joe cut his eyes at Seth. “You pullin’ another scam? I don’t put up with that around here. You know that.”

“No, no scam.” He took no offense. “The woman he hit on is a friend of mine, see. I’d like to talk to the man about his behavior toward her.”

“I see.” Joe shot him an approving look. “Well, tell you the truth, she seemed to handle him pretty good all by her lonesome. But I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Just promise me you’re not gonna beat him up or shoot him or anything like that. I don’t want the cops trackin’ you back here and giving me any trouble.”

“Just want to talk,” Seth assured him, although if he found out that Frat Boy had anything to do with drugging Rachel Davenport, he couldn’t promise he’d keep his fists to himself. She’d come way too close to going off the bridge the night before. She wouldn’t have been likely to survive that fall.

Maybe the guy had slipped her something hoping it would make it easy to get lucky with her rather than to make her go off the deep end and hurt herself, but that distinction sure as hell didn’t make drugging her any less heinous a crime.

And there was still the matter of the murders. Over the past two months, four women connected to Rachel Davenport had been murdered in what had initially seemed like random killings. Until investigators found the perpetrator and learned he’d been hired to kill those women and make the deaths look random. With his dying words, he’d admitted that it was “all about the girl.”

All about Rachel Davenport.

Joe came back from the cluttered office just off the bar bearing a slip of paper. “Guy signed his name ‘Davis Rogers.’”

The name wasn’t familiar. Could have been someone Rachel knew from Maryville or even an old friend in town for her father’s funeral. He’d ask her about him when she got back from the hospital.

The thought of her trip to Knoxville made his chest tighten as he left Smoky Joe’s Saloon and headed toward the road to Maryville. He’d taken the past two days off work, but he was scheduled to work the next four. He had some vacation time coming to him, and he figured this might be the right time to take it.

He was surprised to find Paul Bailey in the office when he asked to see whoever was in charge while Rachel was out. Bailey had the account books open and looked up reluctantly when Seth stepped inside.

“Mr. Bailey, I’ve had a family situation come up. I know it’s short notice, but I have a couple of weeks of vacation built up, and I’d like to take them now if possible.”

Bailey’s gaze was a little unfocused, as if his mind was still on whatever he’d been doing before Seth interrupted. “Yeah, sure. Nobody else has any days off scheduled, and they’ll be happy to have the extra hours this time of year, with the holidays coming up. Just let Sharon at the front desk know what days you’re taking, and she’ll put it on the schedule.”

“Thank you.” Seth started to turn away, then paused. “I’m real sorry about Mr. Davenport.”

“Thank you,” Bailey answered with a regretful half smile.

On impulse, Seth added, “By the way, do you know a Davis Rogers?”

Bailey’s gaze focused completely. “Why do you ask?”

“I just ran into a guy with that name last night at a bar,” Seth lied. “He mentioned he knew the family. We drank a toast to Mr. Davenport.”

“Last night?”

Seth kept his expression neutral. “Yeah. He mentioned he was thinking about selling his car, and I know someone in the market. I should’ve gotten his phone number, but I didn’t think about it until afterward.”