the more the tension built inside her. She remembered the times she’d find him drunk and barely able to stand. With the Lord’s help she’d managed to get Scott to attend his first AA meeting. Thankfully he’d now been sober for more than a year and focused on his job at the paper. Scott was a pit bull when working on a story, and she was sure he’d just gotten sidetracked—that this one time her mother’s hunch was wrong.
Jameson parked out in front of the large white house that had been converted into apartments in an older section of the city. The serenity of the neighborhood appeased Cassie’s anxiety. Soon she would discover they had overreacted and have to explain their sudden appearance to her brother.
Standing on the sidewalk in front, Cassie pointed down the driveway. “Scott’s place is over the garage.” She started for the back. “He likes his privacy.” Which reminded her instantly of the man walking beside her.
She mounted the stairs on the back of the building and knocked on her brother’s door. Nothing, although the lights blazed from his windows.
“Do you have a key?”
“No. I used to with the old apartment.” There hadn’t been a need since Scott had stopped drinking.
Jameson glanced around, saw a window a few feet from the landing and stretched over the railing to peer inside. “Try the door.”
Panic bolted through her at the urgency in his words. She tried turning the knob. “It’s locked. What’s wrong?”
“He’s on the floor. A bottle of whiskey is on the coffee table nearby. Almost empty.”
“No!” Scott’s drinking again? If so, how can he be so drunk that he passed out this quickly?
Jameson straightened. “Does the manager have a key?”
“Yes.” She tried to look in the window and wasn’t tall enough to reach it. “Mrs. Alexander has an apartment on the first floor.”
“Let’s go get her.”
Cassie hurried down the stairs and ran toward the house. Inside the large foyer, she quickly crossed it and pounded on the manager’s door. A minute ticked by. Her heart beat a maddening pace. She lifted her hand to knock again when the door opened, and Mrs. Alexander greeted her with a smile that faded quickly when she stared at Cassie.
“Sugar, what’s wrong?”
“Scott’s hurt in his apartment, and I can’t get in.”
“Let me get my keys.” The older woman disappeared inside her place for a long moment before returning. “Sorry. I had a hard time finding his. It wasn’t where I usually keep it, which is strange. I must get more absentminded as I get older.”
Jameson’s presence behind Cassie soothed her as they rushed back to Scott’s as fast as Mrs. Alexander could go. Beads of sweat popped out on Cassie’s forehead as the older woman inserted the key into the lock.
Please, Lord, let Scott be all right.
As Mrs. Alexander shoved the door open, Cassie and Jameson hurried past her. The scent of whiskey—and something else she couldn’t identify—hung in the air. Sprawled on the floor by the coffee table lay Scott on his left side, not moving. As she knelt by her brother, Cassie noticed the amber liquid in the bottle. So little left.
With a trembling hand, she reached out to turn Scott over, faceup. Blood covered the left side of his head from a deep gash. For a few seconds her gaze stayed riveted to the red stain on the carpet before she could drag her attention away. When she caught sight of his open eyes staring lifelessly at her, she put her quivering fingers on the side of his neck to find his pulse.
“Please be alive. Please,” she whispered.
His skin had a bluish tinge and felt cold. She couldn’t find a pulse. “Call 911.” She looked up at Jameson. “Do you know CPR?”
He squatted on the other side of Scott. His expression, full of concern, filled her vision. He took her hand and held it.
“Cassie, it’s too late.”
“No, we can save him,” she said while Mrs. Alexander shuffled toward the phone to call 911.
“He’s dead.” Jameson stood, bringing her up with him.
She went into his arms, desperately needing the comfort. “I don’t understand. I talked to him less than four hours ago and he was fine. How can he be dead?”
Jameson didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “I don’t know, Cassie, but we’ll find out why this happened.”
“Why?” She pulled back. “He started drinking again and must have tripped and hit his head. He…” Words clogged her throat.
“Cassie, we don’t know anything for sure.” He smoothed her hair back behind her ears and cupped her face.
Remembering all the times she had sat with her brother and nursed him after a drinking binge, she shook her head and stepped away from the solace of Jameson’s touch. “I’ve been through this before. Except…” She cleared her throat. “This time I didn’t come in time. I should have been here hours ago.”
“Sugar—” Mrs. Alexander placed her hand on her arm “—the police are on their way.”
The police! Of course they had to come, but their arrival made this whole horrible situation true, not some bad nightmare she could wake up from. “What made him start drinking again?” Cassie swept her gaze from the manager to Jameson, fighting the urge to go back into his embrace. “Why didn’t he come to Magnolia Falls like he said he was? What made him change his mind?”
“I don’t have any answers, Cassie.”
“Sugar, I’ll wait for the police out front.” With a frown, Mrs. Alexander backed away, avoiding looking at Scott on the floor.
As Cassie watched the manager hurry from the apartment, the trembling started in her hands and rapidly spread through her whole body. She wrapped her arms around herself, but a blanket of cold encased her. “He had so much to live for. He never could hold his liquor well.” She sucked in one deep breath after another, but nothing filled her oxygen-deprived lungs.
Jameson encircled her in his embrace and drew her back against him. His breath fanned her neck. “Cassie, let’s go outside on the landing and wait for the police.”
She twisted around. “No. I can’t leave him alone. I should have been here earlier.”
“You didn’t know this was going to happen. You can’t blame yourself.”
The fervent tone of his voice took her by surprise. She stared into his blue eyes and saw a storm of emotions that rivaled hers. Glancing beyond him, she spied Scott on the floor, his color leached from his face. Seeing him confirmed what she’d known when she had touched him the first time: her brother was dead.
“How am I going to tell Mom?”
“I’ll come with you, if you want.”
She
