she doing now?”
Clay’s mouth curved up in a grin. “You’d have to know my mother to understand that she’s a survivor. She’s exactly like she was before the kidnapping…enjoying life and her family.”
“That’s good to hear,” Nick said as they entered the darkened interior of Sanford’s. It was a typical small-town tavern, with pool tables in the back, a layer of thick smoke hanging in the air and a bar counter that had probably felt a thousand elbows resting on it.
Clay motioned to the bar and the two men slid onto stools. They ordered their drinks from a burly bartender who appeared to double as bouncer, as well.
“Are you staying out at the motel?” Clay asked.
“No, I’m staying at the Redbud Bed-and-Breakfast here on the square,” Nick replied.
“Ah, my cousin’s place.”
Nick looked at him in surprise. “Alyssa Whitefeather is your cousin?”
“A close cousin. My mother raised her from the time she was eleven. She’s more like another sister than a cousin.” Clay took a sip of his beer, then continued. “I want you to know I intend to put all my time and energy into finding the bastard who’s killing the men of our town,” Clay said. “But the first thing I need to do is request Saturday off duty. I’m getting married that day.”
“Married? And you’re just asking for one day off?”
“My fiancée, Tamara, knows how important this case is. I’ve promised her a real honeymoon when we catch this creep.” Clay wrapped his hands around his beer glass. “You know, most of the town is going to turn out for the wedding. Maybe you should come, see the town people at play.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on such a personal ceremony,” Nick protested.
“Trust me, it wouldn’t be an intrusion, but if you are uncomfortable coming alone, I’ll set it up with Alyssa and the two of you can come together.”
Nick instantly felt a spike in his adrenaline, although he fought to keep his enthusiasm for the idea out of his voice. “Isn’t it possible she might already have an escort?”
“Alyssa? Nah, she never dates. I’m sure she’s planning on going alone.”
“Then that would be great. I could have a look at the folks there and won’t feel so out of place if I’m with a family member.”
“Then consider it done. I’ll call Alyssa tonight and set it up with her.”
“Alyssa…is she on medication for her epilepsy?” Nick asked.
There was no mistaking the blank look in Clay’s dark eyes. “Epilepsy?” he repeated slowly, as if the word was utterly foreign to his vocabulary.
“Yeah, I walked in on her last night and she was, like, in a trance. I asked her if she had epilepsy and was having some sort of seizure and she said yes.”
“So, she told you she has epilepsy? No, she isn’t on any kind of medication.” Clay lifted the beer glass to his lips, his gaze focused away from Nick.
And in that instant Nick suspected that Alyssa Whitefeather didn’t have epilepsy at all. She’d lied to him, and Clay was merely trying to cover her tracks. Interesting.
If she didn’t have epilepsy…if she hadn’t been suffering a petit mal seizure when he’d seen her in his room the night before, then what had she been doing? Why had she appeared like a woman in a trance…a woman completely gone from the real world and its surroundings?
The only answer could be she was hiding something from him. But why?
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