I can stay here to make sure everything is done by the book, if you want to go now. I wouldn’t want him to hear it from someone else.”
“I agree. Let’s meet later at the station. I’ll find out what I can about Jane’s whereabouts yesterday and this morning, and especially when her family last saw her and where she would have been going this morning.”
“Maybe if we can piece together a timeline of her movements, we can discover where she was murdered.”
Tom stuck a toothpick into his mouth and put his hat on his head, then climbed out of the ditch and left.
Three days on the job in Longhorn and Ian had already become involved in the murder of a member from a prominent family. After the intense few months he’d spent in El Paso rounding up a drug cartel, he’d hoped to have a little downtime to deal with his brother and make sure his grandma was all right. Something was wrong with Sean, and he was determined to help his older brother whether he wanted it or not. His grandma was worried sick about Sean. Ian had returned to his hometown because of his family, especially for Nana, who needed more help than she wanted to admit to anyone.
An hour later, the area had been processed, with pictures taken and what little evidence there was collected. Jane Shephard’s body had been transported to the morgue for an autopsy.
When Ian left the dump site, he drove toward his grandmother’s house. He had promised to have lunch with her next door, at her best friend Sally’s, and he was late. He’d forgotten about it until he’d been climbing out of the ditch and had received a call from Nana.
As Ian stopped at a light, his cell phone rang, and he saw it was the sheriff. “How did the family notification go?”
“Jack Shephard wasn’t there. He’s in Austin. His wife called him, and he’s heading back to Longhorn now. Ruth took the news relatively well, but I was glad her housekeeper was with her when I left. Ruth didn’t know where Jane was last night, but this morning she left early to meet with her therapist, Caitlyn Rhodes.”
Caitlyn Rhodes. Her name brought back good memories but also regret. There were times over the years he could have used her advice and friendship. The closest he’d been to her in years was listening to her radio talk show, where she counseled people who called in. He still didn’t understand the abrupt end to their relationship the summer she graduated from high school.
“I’m waiting for Jack to arrive here. He’s coming to the station before going home. Can you talk with Caitlyn Rhodes?”
Since he’d returned to his hometown, his grandma had mentioned Caitlyn, who was Sally’s granddaughter, several times. “Sure. In fact, I’m supposed to have lunch with her grandmother today. I’ll find out Caitlyn’s schedule and track her down.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes. We went to school together and were friends, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Too long. Every time he heard her on her radio show he’d pictured her in his mind—petite, long wavy brown hair with a touch of red in it and the most beautiful dark green eyes.
“Call me after you talk with her.”
“Will do.”
He and Caitlyn had been two years apart in school. She’d been popular and had a lot of guys wanting to date her. While he’d attended a college in Dallas, she’d finished high school and, that summer before she went to the University of Texas, they’d dated several times. He’d begun to think they were growing closer, but suddenly one day he’d received a voice mail from her, canceling their date. Later he discovered she’d left town. Their paths didn’t cross after that, and he’d always wondered if they could have had a serious relationship. Now it didn’t make any difference. His job was his life.
* * *
Caitlyn Rhodes took a moment while several commercials were played on her popular talk show, Share with Caitlyn. She’d been on the run the whole morning before coming to the radio station for her live program. Her first therapy client, Jane Shepard, had concerned her at her office earlier today. During her appointment, Jane had paced the room, only sitting down a couple of times. Something was wrong, but Caitlyn couldn’t get much out of her. She planned to call her later and see if she would come to Caitlyn’s office tomorrow or suggest that she could go to Jane wherever she wanted. Caitlyn couldn’t shake her concern.
Melanie Carson, her show’s producer, signaled that the last commercial was wrapping up. Caitlyn glanced at the wall clock in the studio. Only five minutes till the end of her show. She had time for one or two more callers.
Caitlyn pressed the button. “Hello. You’re on the air.”
Silence greeted her.
Seconds passed, so she reached toward the control panel to switch to the next caller when a raspy, deep voice said, “Stop me!”
A chill snaked down Caitlyn’s spine. “Stop you from doing what?”
Another eerie quiet filled the dead air. She opened her mouth to say—
Click.
Behind the glass window, Melanie frowned and tapped her watch.
Quickly recovering from the call, Caitlyn leaned toward the microphone and started to say what she did when a viewer got cold feet and shut down on the radio: “Please call me at my office, and we can talk privately.” But she couldn’t get those words out. They stuck in her throat.
Melanie again indicated her watch to wrap up. Caitlyn pulled herself together and began to speak.
“I can’t believe how fast the past hour went, but I’ll be back tomorrow, same time, to discuss any problems you need help with. Remember: unresolved problems lead to stress, and stress leads to illness. Keep your mind and body healthy. Call me or write me,” she said automatically as she did every show. Then she rattled off her email address for the ones like that last caller who froze when they realized millions were listening to them.
If only I could follow my own advice about unresolved problems.
As she rose to leave the studio, she couldn’t shake the coldness that had embedded itself deep in her bones at the two words he’d said.
Stop me!
Not calmly but desperately, as though he was at the end of his patience. That shouldn’t have stopped her from saying he could contact her at her office. In her years as a therapist with a doctorate in psychology and counseling, she’d talked with many desperate people.
She headed out into the hallway. What had made her not encourage him to call the office?
The sinister edge to his voice? The sense of urgency?
“Caitlyn, are you okay?”
She stopped and turned toward her producer. “Yes, Melanie. It was clear whoever was on the phone didn’t really want help or he would have said more.” She’d learned over the years that she couldn’t help someone who wasn’t open to it. It had been a hard lesson, but it had saved her own sanity with one of her clients in her first year of counseling. She wanted to help people with problems and considered it more than her occupation. But as her grand pappy used to say, you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink.
“Good.
