think that’s only a myth when a cop is supposed to be bad or corrupt,” Riley replied.
“Who knows what was going on with Thomas. You know he was chief of police before Glen Cleberg. Maybe somebody had a score to settle with him.”
“And so they banged him over the head and did what with his wife?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know,” Scott admitted. “I’m just speculating here.”
“I thought good reporters weren’t allowed to speculate. I thought they were just supposed to report the facts.”
Scott grinned widely, exposing a chipped front tooth. “Who ever told you I was a good reporter?”
“So, tell me about Savannah James,” Riley asked, changing the subject.
“Her name is actually Savannah Tallfeather. She’s a homicide dick and a widow. About a year ago her husband, Jimmy, crashed into the old bridge over the Cherokee River. The wood was old and rotten and his car went over the edge.”
Riley frowned. There should be a law—only one tragedy in a single lifetime. The fact that she was so young and already had suffered two seemed vastly unfair.
“It’s eerily similar to what happened to your parents, isn’t it?” Scott asked. He wasn’t talking about Jimmy Tallfeather’s untimely death. He was talking about whatever had happened at the James ranch.
“Yes…at least from the snippets of information I’ve heard so far.” Riley sighed and looked upward toward the night sky where the stars were obscured by the bright parking lot lighting. “But I hope it’s not the same.”
He looked back at Scott, but his thoughts were filled with a vision of the lovely Savannah. He knew every agonizing emotion she was experiencing. He knew intimately the sensation of shock, the taste of uncertainty and the scent of your own fear.
He knew the furtive glances of people willing to believe the worst. He knew the isolation of friends drifting away, uncomfortable and somehow afraid. He wouldn’t wish what he’d been through in the past two years on anyone, especially a young woman who’d already been touched by tragedy.
“I hope they find Rita James alive and well. I hope she left for a planned trip hours before her husband was attacked.” Riley held his friend’s gaze intently. “I hope this is nothing like what happened to my parents. But if it is like what happened to my family, then God help them all.”
It was near dawn when sheer exhaustion drove Savannah to bed. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours, and although her head wanted to keep searching for her mother, her body rebelled, forcing her to rest.
The night had been a fruitless search. She and Clay had contacted half the townspeople to see if they knew anything about Rita’s whereabouts.
They had contacted friends, relatives and acquaintances, all to no avail. Savannah had taken a photo of her mother to the bus station while Clay had checked all the rental car companies.
Nothing. It was as if Rita had packed her suitcase, then disappeared off the face of the earth.
Before crawling into bed for a couple hours of sleep, Savannah sat in her living room window and watched the sun peek up over the horizon as if shyly testing its welcome.
Tears burned her eyes. Was her mother seeing the sunrise? Had she left on an unexpected trip and had no idea what had happened at the ranch? Or had whomever hurt Thomas also done something awful to Rita?
Savannah had shed few tears all night, but as she watched the beauty of the sunrise, sobs choked in her throat, racked her body and ripped through her heart.
She’d believed all her tears had been depleted on the day she’d buried her Jimmy, but she’d been wrong. A river of tears escaped from her until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Her alarm awakened her at nine. Gritty-eyed and half-asleep, she stumbled into the bathroom for a quick shower.
As the steamy hot water washed away the last of her grogginess, she mentally steeled herself for what lay ahead of her—the walk-through at the ranch house to see if anything was missing or out of place.
Savannah had been to many crime scenes in the six years she’d been a cop, but she’d never been to a crime scene where her own family members were the victims. And there was no doubt in her mind that her mother was a victim as much as her father was. They just hadn’t figured out yet what her mother was a victim of.
Before leaving her apartment she called Breanna to check in on their father. There had been no change in his condition, and Breanna told her she and Adam were heading home for some much-needed sleep. Clay had no news, either.
In the brilliant sunshine of day the crime-scene tape surrounding the house looked even more horrifying than it had the night before.
Savannah got out of her car and was greeted by Officer Kyle O’Brien, a young man who’d apparently drawn the duty of guarding the house until it was released by the police department.
“The chief is on his way. I’m sorry I can’t let you inside until he gets here.” He looked at her apologetically.
“It’s all right, Kyle.” She forced a smile. “I’ll just wait for him in my car.” She slid back in behind her steering wheel, ignoring the look on Kyle’s face that indicated he wouldn’t have minded a little conversation.
She didn’t feel like talking. She leaned her head against her headrest and closed her eyes as the events of the night before replayed in her mind.
He’d had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Her mind filled with an image of the man she’d frisked in the hospital parking lot. Yes, he’d had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, but they hadn’t sparkled; rather, they had been somber and filled with sympathy.
She rummaged in her purse and pulled out the business card he’d handed her the night before. Riley Frazier, Master Builder of Frazier Homes.
She’d heard of Frazier Homes. But why would a homebuilder think she’d want to speak with him? She wasn’t in the market for a new home, and last night had definitely not been the time to approach her. It didn’t make any sense.
At that moment Glen Cleberg arrived on the scene. Savannah shoved the business card back into her purse, then got out of the car to greet her boss.
“How you doing, Savannah?” he asked with uncharacteristic kindness.
When Glen had become chief a year ago, he’d seemed to be afraid that the James siblings wouldn’t honor his authority after serving under their father. He’d been harder on them than on any of the other officers and it had taken several months before they had all adjusted.
“I’m fine…eager to get this over with.”
He frowned. “Maybe I should have had Clay do it…but I was afraid he’d look at the scene professionally rather than as a family member.”
“He probably would have,” Savannah admitted. Clay was consumed by his work as a crime-scene investigator. She suspected if somebody cut him he wouldn’t bleed blood, but would bleed some kind of chemical solution used in his lab to look for clues.
