Don’t Look Back
Margaret Daley

To the other authors who worked with me on this

continuity: Valerie Hansen, Shirlee McCoy,

Carol Steward, Lenora Worth and Marta Perry.

You all are the best!

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Margaret Daley for her contribution to the REUNION REVELATIONS miniseries.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PROLOGUE

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you just couldn’t stop snooping. You forced me to do this.” The intruder approached the figure sprawled on the floor, nudged him, then bent down and felt for a pulse.

With the job finished, the killer scanned the room to make sure nothing was left behind before walking to the door and slipping outside. On the steps he placed a call and said, “It’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Good. We can’t afford for this to get out. We’d be ruined. Did he tell anyone about what he’d discovered?”

For a few seconds the killer fumbled for an answer. “I think I got here in time. I have his computer and recorder.”

“You think you got there in time?”

“I’ll make sure I did.”

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you don’t.” The connection went dead.

ONE

Two months earlier

Cassie Winters spied him across the Event Hall at the Mossy Oak Inn where the dinner and fund-raiser for the library expansion was being held. Her heartbeat increased at the sight of him, just as it had when she’d been in his journalism class ten years ago. But instead of his usual jeans, blazer and tie, he was dressed in a black tuxedo. She’d never seen him in formal attire, but Dr. Jameson King had changed little over time. His dark brown hair still looked tousled, and his tall, muscular build was still on the lean side.

“Cassie, are you listening?” Her friend Jennifer Pappas moved into Cassie’s line of vision. “Have you heard anything about the skeleton they found under the library sidewalk?”

“Who hasn’t? Everyone has been talking about it.” Cassie shivered.

Kate Brooks, another friend, sidled closer and lowered her voice. “I hate to think what happened to the woman. Do you think it was someone who attended Magnolia College?”

“I hope not. But there were some women who didn’t come to the reunion in June, who haven’t been heard from in years.” Suddenly cold, Cassie shuddered and hugged herself. “To think a murder happened ten years ago, not too far from here.” Murder on their quiet campus. The very thought unnerved her.

“To someone we may have known,” Jennifer added in her usual quiet voice.

Cassie scanned the crowd again, hoping to get another glimpse of Jameson King. Quinn Nelson, the assistant basketball coach, and Edgar Ortiz, the assistant director of Admissions, had joined him and Dr. Cornell Rutherford, the head of the English Department. The coach patted Jameson on the back, then laughed at something Dr. Rutherford said.

Cassie started to look away when Jameson turned his head, and her gaze connected with his cobalt-blue eyes. For a few seconds, she experienced all over again the lure those eyes had for her.

He smiled at her. Heat scored her cheeks at being caught staring at him. He said something to Dr. Rutherford, then weaved his way through the crowd toward her.

“Excuse me,” Cassie said to her two friends who were still discussing the recently found skeleton. “I see someone I haven’t had a chance to talk to yet.”

Kate laughed. “I see who’s heading this way. Although you didn’t major in journalism, I do believe he was your favorite teacher.”

“He was a lot of students’ favorite teacher.” Cassie brushed her hair behind her ears, a nervous habit she wished she could break.

“He still is. His classes are always full from what I hear.” Jennifer took a sip of her punch.

Cassie walked toward him before he had a chance to join the three of them. All she needed was an audience when she finally talked to him after all these years. She wondered what else he had been doing besides teaching. Her brother had kept her informed some since Jameson had been Scott’s college adviser, but she’d dared not ask her brother too many questions or she would have never heard the end of it. It was bad enough her friends kidded her about her college crush on her professor.

Jameson stopped in front of her. “Cassie, it’s so good to see you again.”

The other people crowded into the room faded away. Cassie offered a smile, clenching a glass of punch in her hand. “It’s good to see you, too. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your wife’s death last year.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “You knew? It wasn’t common knowledge in Magnolia Falls.”

“As you know, Scott works for the Savannah paper, and he told me.” She remembered her surprise when her younger brother had called her about the news. Although Jameson had always worn a wedding ring, there had never been any evidence of a wife. All the students had speculated about the mysterious woman whom no one had ever seen. Some people had even wondered if a wife had really existed.

“How’s Scott doing? I haven’t talked to him lately.”

Suddenly she wanted to share her good news with someone who would care. She glanced around her, the press of people making a private conversation impossible. “I could use some fresh air. Care to join me for a walk?”

For a brief moment surprise widened his eyes before he said, “Sure.”

Cassie put her glass cup on a nearby table, then led the way toward the entrance. After Jameson opened the door for her, she stepped outside into the warm August evening, but the large live oaks dripping with Spanish moss offered a cool, private canopy over the stone path. She paused near some gardenia bushes. Their sweet, heavy fragrance laced the light breeze.

“Is something wrong with Scott?” Jameson came to her side, his expression etched with worry.

“Oh, no. I didn’t want to say anything inside, but I know you’re aware of Scott’s drinking problem. He has been sober for the past year. We went out to dinner the other night to celebrate his success.”

A smile lit Jameson’s face. “That’s wonderful news.”

“He owes you so much. Getting the job at the newspaper really helped him turn his life around after the accident. He wouldn’t have gotten it if you hadn’t contacted your friend there.”

“Scott landed the job on his own merit. I just gave him a reference. Your brother’s work was, is, excellent, and since he couldn’t play pro ball, what better job for him since he majored in journalism.”

Cassie glimpsed a stone bench nearby. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, let’s walk some. I’ve been sitting at the computer way too much lately.”

“I didn’t realize you held that many office hours.”

He started forward. “I’m working on a novel. I recently sold one.”

“Congratulations.” Cassie fell into step next to him on the path that led to the back of the inn. The sun brushed the tops of a line of pine trees on the west side of the property.

“Thanks. Since my wife’s death, I’ve had more time on my hands, and it was something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Is this your first book?”

Jameson headed toward the small pond behind the inn. “Yes, well, my first work of fiction. I’ve written several academic books over the years.”

“Ah, yes. I remember you discussing one of them in class.”

“That was a long time ago.”

His voice sounded tired and matched a world-weary look in his eyes, prompting Cassie to peer at him as she stopped at the edge of the pond. “Twelve years. I was a sophomore the first time I took one of your classes. I believe that was your first year at the school.”

The blue of his eyes darkened, revealing a hint of vulnerability in his expression. He shifted away from her and stared at the ducks swimming in the water. A subtle tension hummed in the air.

“Dr. King?”

He blinked and focused on her face. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the past. And please call me Jameson. We’re no longer teacher and student.”

Weariness coated each of his words. She had a strong urge to comfort him but didn’t know how. He had always been such a private person.

Determined to interject some lightness into the conversation, Cassie said, “I was surprised you were here this evening. I’ve been back several times for functions at the college, but you’ve always been in hiding.” She would know because she’d always looked for him. “I guess now I know you’ve been madly composing the next American bestseller. Hemingway and Faulkner will have to move over for you.”

He chuckled, the dullness in his gaze vanishing. “Hardly. It’s a murder mystery. I hope a quick, entertaining read, but not a book anyone would proclaim a literary masterpiece. The truth is, I don’t usually come to many events at the college.”

“What made you this time?”

He looked long and deep into her eyes, his head tilted to the side. “You know, I’m not sure. I hadn’t planned on it this morning, but I sold my book and wanted to celebrate. This seemed like as good a place as any.” The corners of his mouth formed a grin. “I’ve seen quite a few former students at this fund-raiser. I have fond memories of your graduating class. Some of my best students were in it.”

Her pulse quickened. His gaze seared straight into her heart. “So our class was better than my brother’s?”

He laughed. “You can’t draw me into a family rivalry. I plead the Fifth.”

His husky laughter wrapped around her, its sound wonderful to hear. She suspected he hadn’t laughed much lately, since his wife’s death. She fixed an impish smile on her face and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Oh, I’d never do that to my baby brother.”

“Yeah, sure. I have an older sister. I know a few things about sibling rivalry.”

That was one of the few personal pieces of information she knew about him. He had always been an enigma, which was what probably drew her to him. She loved to solve puzzles—in fact, did the crossword in the newspaper every morning before starting her day. “Interesting. An older sister. Any other deep, dark secrets you want to share?”

Secrets? Jameson scrambled to keep his countenance neutral. For a brief time he’d forgotten. Cassie had that effect on him.

He turned away, staring at two ducks herding their babies up the slope on the other side of the pond. “Don’t we all have secrets?”

“I’m an open book.” She waggled her finger at him. “And I see what you’re doing. You’re answering a question with a question.”

He forced a grin. “Must be the journalist in me.”

“Have you ever been a reporter?”

“While I was working on my doctorate—years ago. You would have been just a baby at the time,” he said, needing to add the last sentence to remind him of their age difference.

“Yes, that’s right. You’re ancient.” Cassie tapped her chin. “Let’s see. You’re what? Ten? Twelve years older than I am? Definitely ancient.”

He chuckled. “Okay, you’ve made your point. I’m not that much older than you in years.” He left unsaid how much older he felt in experience. There was an innocence about Cassie that she’d retained even after ten years in the real world. He yearned for that and realized he’d never been that way, even as a child.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that settled. The next thing I know they’ll refuse to let me vote.”

“Most women would love to be thought of as younger than they are.”

“I’m not most women.”

That’s so true. He was tempted to discover what she’d been doing for the past ten years. When Scott had been in his class, he’d told him about Cassie working at a high school as a physical education teacher and coaching gymnastics. But that was when she had lived in Savannah. What was she doing back here in Magnolia Falls? The same thing? He started to ask and immediately stamped down his curiosity.

“We’d better go back inside before they send out a search party,” he said, instead of asking all the questions he wanted to know the answers to, questions he had no business asking.

“Dinner should be served shortly. As usual Steff has outdone herself with the preparations.”

Jameson walked beside Cassie toward the door into the inn. “Steff Kessler was the perfect choice to be alumni director.”

At the entrance into the Event Hall Cassie turned toward him when he stopped. “Steff certainly has the connections. I think a third of the buildings at the college are named after someone in her family.” She started into the room, noticed he hadn’t followed and swung back around. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m not staying for dinner.” He allowed his gaze to take in her black silk dress that fell in soft folds around her knees. She looked elegant and beautiful.

“Why not?” Disappointment furrowed her brow.

The urge to smooth the creases from her forehead inundated him, confirming his need to leave. “I’ve played hooky from writing long enough. Good night.” He pivoted and strode away before he could change his mind. Cassie was a delightful, intelligent woman. He didn’t need that complication in his life.

TWO

Two months later

“I come all the way to Magnolia Falls and you’re heading out the door.” Scott blocked Cassie’s way.

Stepping back, she looked up into her little brother’s face and dropped her purse on the table next to the front door. “If you had bothered to call before coming, I would have told you I’m taking a night class at the college.”

“Oh? Are you going for another master’s?” He moved into the foyer, backing her up a few paces.

“No, I’m just taking one of the short courses they offer at the college.” She checked her watch. “Which will start in half an hour. I’d rather not be late.”

“What class?”

“Nothing too exciting.” Cassie waved her hand in dismissal, hoping her brother didn’t pursue the question.

His laughter ruffled her feathers. “I’m a reporter. You can’t be evasive with me.”

She reached around him and snatched up her purse. “Yes, I can. If you want to make yourself at home, go ahead. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Nah. I have to meet someone in a while. I just wanted to say hi. Now that you live in Magnolia Falls, I don’t get to see you as much.”

“Savannah’s only an hour away. You’re welcome anytime. This is your home, too.”

“By the way, where’s Mom?” He peered over her shoulder toward the living room.

“At the neighbors’. She’s finally going out for an evening since she got sick.” Cassie skirted around her younger brother and headed out onto the porch. A nagging sensation made her pause and turn back toward Scott. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

A brief glimpse of sadness and tiny lines creasing his forehead aged him beyond his twenty-five years. “No, it can wait. We’ll talk another time when you’re not hurrying out the door.”

“Are you sure?” She felt suddenly reluctant to leave.

“Yes.” He shooed her away. “Go to your mysterious class.”

While she descended the steps, she heard Scott say behind her, “I intend to find out what you’re taking. There should be no secrets between us.”

She turned and backpedaled toward her car in the driveway. “Who are you meeting?”

“No one of importance to you.”

She grinned. “It looks like we both have our secrets.”

His chuckles followed her to her white Taurus. She refused to look toward him as she slid behind the steering wheel and left. Her brother already knew how interested she was in Dr. Jameson King. She could imagine the ribbing she would receive if Scott knew she was taking a night class taught by his mentor. She would never hear the end of it. But after seeing Jameson at the fund-raiser a few months ago, she had decided it was a sign. Life was too short. He was no longer married, and she was no longer his student—well, his college student. Now that it was October and she was settled into her new job at the local high school, she had some time in the evening.

Fifteen minutes later she parked in a space near the campus building where the class was being taught and hurried toward the Gothic structure. She didn’t want to be late for Jameson’s class on persuasive writing. Seeing him again reminded her how much she’d enjoyed his lectures, especially listening to his deep voice as he expounded on a subject he was passionate about.

Cassie slipped inside the lecture hall on the second floor as Jameson approached the front. Dressed in tan slacks and a black, long-sleeved shirt, he paused by the table and dropped his notepad, then scanned the audience. His gaze fell on her, and a smile gleamed in his eyes. She quickly settled in a desk in the last row and listened as the rich sound of his voice filled the room.

For the next two hours Jameson mesmerized her. Before she knew it, the students around her were standing and gathering their books and papers to leave.

Taking a composing breath, she rose and made her way toward the front. She waited while a few classmates spoke to Jameson. When the last one left, she stepped in front of him, and suddenly everyone else faded from her consciousness except Jameson King.

He removed the wire-rimmed glasses he used for reading and stuck them in a pocket. “What a pleasant surprise to see you taking one of my classes again. Have you decided to come back to college?”

She shook her head. “I just took advantage of the auditing program the college has for the townspeople. I figured I could use some persuasive techniques to get my mentoring program started at the high school.”

“I thought for a moment you might be following in your brother’s footsteps and going into journalism.”

“I’ll leave the reporting to him. He likes to dig for answers, not me.”

“And he’s very good at what he does. I liked his last series of articles about the effects of the high cost of health insurance on the ordinary person.” Jameson collected his notes.

“I thought I was the only one who followed Scott’s career.”

He started for the door. “I read six or seven newspapers a day. The Savannah paper is one of them. I particularly like to read any work by a former student of mine.” He allowed her to go first into the hallway.

“Does everyone still go to the Half Joe for coffee after classes?”

“Yes. Some traditions haven’t changed.”

“Would you care to join me there, then? I haven’t been since I returned to Magnolia Falls, and I spent many days and nights there studying and cramming for exams.”

“Sure. I only planned to go home and grade some essays.”

Outside the English building the warm October night with a hint of honeysuckle in the air enveloped Cassie. A full moon hung in the sky, its brightness obscuring the stars nearby.

Jameson peered toward the parking lot at the side of the building, then toward the road. “Since it’s not far, do you want to walk?”

“That sounds nice.”

“How’s your new job going? Do you like it as much as your old one in Savannah?” Jameson asked as they crossed the street.

“I love it. I’m a counselor at the high school. I really enjoy counseling teenagers. And the girls I work with on the gymnastics team are talented and eager to learn.”

He made an tsking sound. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He looked at her directly as he opened the café’s door for her. “I’ve found if you have passion for what you teach, it’s hard not to convey that to your students. Before you know it, they’re feeling the same way.”

Entering the Half Joe, Cassie scanned the college hangout for an empty chair or couch. She spied her brother sitting off in the corner with two tall men, probably a few years younger than Scott.

“Ah, I see your brother is here. Now, that brings back some memories. We used to come here after class and have some lively conversations.”

A group near her brother rose from a worn brown leather couch. Cassie pointed toward it. “Let’s grab it before someone else does.”

As she wound her way through the maze of chairs and couches, she heard several people call out to Jameson. Her brother glanced up and saw them. Frowning, he returned his attention to the two young men he was talking to. He jotted something on a notepad on the table in front of him.

Strange, Cassie thought, taking in the tension in Scott’s posture, the intensity in his expression. A minute ago she had been tempted to interrupt their conversation, but something warned her that her little brother wouldn’t be too happy with her, as though he was on assignment and nothing should interfere with his interview.

When she sat on the couch, Jameson settled next to her and waved his hand for the waitress. “What would you like?”

“A cup of green tea.”

When the college-age woman stopped on the other side of the table in front of the couch, Jameson gave her their orders.

The waitress’s expression brightened. “Anything else, Dr. King? We have freshly baked white-chocolate-and-macadamia nut cookies. I know how much you like those.”

He patted his flat stomach. “I’m afraid too much. Not tonight.”

“It’s obvious you still frequent this place,” Cassie said when the young woman left.

“I wrote part of my book here.”

“You did? The noise wasn’t distracting?”

“I’m very good at tuning others out when I need to. But I found inspiration watching the different people, especially when I got stuck.”

“When is your book coming out?” Cassie pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Not for another year.”

“Why a murder mystery?”

“When I worked as a reporter, I covered several murder cases from beginning to end, so I drew on my experience.”

“Write about what you know?”

His smile transformed his face, erasing the hint of sadness she often saw lurking in the depths of his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve actually been involved in a murder case. Just as an observer.”

“And now we have our very own murder case at the college.” A tremor snaked down Cassie’s spine when she thought about the unknown woman found in August who was still unidentified.

The waitress placed their orders on the coffee table in front of them, giving Jameson a big grin and a shy once-over before leaving. Cassie wondered if the young woman had taken any of Jameson’s classes. He seemed oblivious to his effect on the female population, but she’d seen the look on the waitress’s face and knew what it meant. When she had been in his class years ago she’d probably had the same silly grin on her face.

He took his mug and sipped his drink. “Even though it’s been nearly two months, everyone is still talking about the murdered woman.”

“People love a good mystery.”

“That’s what I’m hoping with my novel.”

“Thinking of giving up teaching when you become a success?”

“First, most writers don’t make a decent living with their writing, and second, the business is fickle.” He drank a swallow of his coffee. “Now, it’s my turn. Why are you taking my class?”

She’d always been straightforward, and this time she couldn’t be any less than that. “When I saw you at the fund-raiser, I remembered how much I enjoyed your classes, so I signed up when this short course became available. As a teacher I can always use persuasive techniques in dealing with students.”

She curled her hands around her mug of tea, her gaze drifting toward her brother, engrossed in a conversation with the two young men. The impression he was working on a story was still strong. So what did these two students have to do with it?

“When we came in, you seemed surprised to see Scott here.”

Jameson’s observation drew her attention back to the man beside her on the couch. “Yes. He stopped by the house earlier, but he didn’t say anything about coming here.”

“In the past month I’ve seen him here several times.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know he was visiting Magnolia Falls?”

“No.” Again she glanced toward Scott. What was he up to? “Is he meeting with the same people?”

“No, different ones. But I’ve found most of them are connected with the basketball team. I thought at first he might be helping out this season. Practice has started, and although he couldn’t go pro, he can still play.”

“But he doesn’t. When the accident happened, he blamed himself for the team not going any further in the NCAA tournament that year.”

“If I remember correctly, we had a good chance of winning the tournament.”

Cassie felt uncomfortable being reminded of that awful time four years ago when her brother’s life came crashing down around him.

“Granted, Scott was the star player, but as I told him then, he was only one member of the team. Winning is a team effort and so is losing.”

“I said basically the same thing to him, but it didn’t make any difference. He walked away from the game. He rarely even watches it. So why is he talking to members of the team?”

Jameson arched an eyebrow, a gleam glinting in his eyes. “A good question. A story?”

“Possibly. Is there a player who has a chance to go to the NBA?”

“I gather you don’t follow basketball, either.”

“No, just gymnastics. I only followed it when Scott played.”

Jameson tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. “Maybe. There’s one who has a shot. Marcus Reed. He’s a junior.”

“Reed? Any relation to the Kevin Reed who was involved in Scott’s injury on the basketball court?”

“His younger brother. He has a lot more talent than Kevin did.”

“Is Marcus one of the young men he’s with?”

“No, but a reporter often interviews people around a subject.”

“Then maybe he’s doing a story on Marcus. If so, that’s a good thing.” Cassie finished the last sip of her tea.

“Why?”

“I didn’t think it was good that Scott walked away from basketball altogether. He lived and breathed it before the accident. He also harbored a lot of anger toward Kevin because of what happened. They were best friends, and now Kevin has dropped off the face of the earth.”

“I imagine Kevin had a hard time dealing with the accident, too. Sometimes when something is too painful, you have to cut yourself off totally in order to survive.”

Cassie suddenly realized they weren’t just talking about her brother and Kevin. What had been so painful in Jameson’s life? His wife’s death had occurred almost a year ago, and yet she’d sensed that deep pain even back when she had been in his class as a college student. “You can’t run forever. You have to face the problem and deal with it. It won’t go away.”

A distant look dimmed his eyes. “True.”

So intent on Jameson, she didn’t hear or see her brother approach until he cleared his throat and said, “Cassie, I didn’t know you were going to be here. I thought you were taking a class….”

Her gaze swept to Scott on the other side of the coffee table. “I am. I signed up for Jameson’s persuasive writing class.”

Her brother’s glance fell on his mentor, then back to Cassie. “You forgot to mention that.”

“And you forgot to mention you’ve been coming to Magnolia Falls on a regular basis. Working on a story?”

Scott’s expression went blank. “I’m always working on a story. Well, I’d better be going. I still have to drive back to Savannah. It’s good to see you, Jameson.” He nodded toward them, then left before Cassie could say anything else.

“I think I scared him off with my question.”

“I think you did, too.” Jameson stared at Scott as he made his way toward the door. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I have papers to grade. May I walk you to your car?”

When he removed his wallet to pay, Cassie put her hand over his, stopping him. The touch singed her fingertips. “This is my treat. I invited you.”

He started to say something but looked into her eyes and decided not to. Sliding his wallet back into his pocket, he rose. “Thanks. Next time will be my treat.”

The idea there could be another time made her heart flutter. Then she caught sight of his wedding ring that he still wore. The glittering gold taunted her.

His gaze trapped her full attention, and all thoughts fled her mind. She wanted to get to know him beyond the nice pleasantries they had shared. In college she’d had a simple schoolgirl’s crush on her handsome professor. Now she realized it could be so much more, but it was obvious he was still very much in love with his deceased wife.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmured finally.

A few minutes later Cassie stepped outside with Jameson at her side. Aware of his every move, she crossed the street and strolled back toward the parking lot on campus where their cars were.

At her Taurus she unlocked its door, then faced him. He was only a foot away, and she could smell his fresh, clean scent in the night air. She saw him cock a grin, making him appear younger, carefree.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” She didn’t want the evening to end, but his demeanor had suddenly become one of a polite stranger, as though he suddenly realized how alone they were.

“Good night. See you next week in class.”

She slipped inside her car and watched him disappear into the darkness at the other end of the parking lot. Gripping the steering wheel, she laid her head on the cold plastic and dragged air into her lungs. Why did she feel as though she were playing with fire?

Lord, he’s hurting. Please take his pain away.

As she passed the Half Joe, Cassie glanced toward its parking lot on the right side of the building. The security light shone down on her brother standing in front of a tall young man she didn’t know. Scott waved his arm and pointed toward the campus. Cassie slowed her car. A scowl on his face, the young man shook his head and stalked toward the entrance into the café. Clearly frustrated, Scott pounded his fist on the top of his vehicle.

Cassie started to make a U-turn to go back to see what was wrong with her brother, when he wrenched open his door, got into his car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction.

What just happened?

Stopping at a red light, Cassie looked in her rearview mirror as though the deserted street would give her answers. They were both keeping secrets. Maybe she and her brother were more alike than she had ever thought.

At his apartment Jameson sat at the desk in his office, staring at the same paper he had been reading for the past half hour. He’d marked a few comments at the beginning, but after rereading the same paragraph several times, he realized he might as well call it quits. He wasn’t going to be able to grade papers tonight. His mind kept wandering back to this evening at the Half Joe with Cassie. Why had he accepted her invitation? He shouldn’t have.

He knew the danger in getting too close to someone like her. She was as beautiful and vivacious as he remembered her ten years before. Actually, even more so. Now she was a woman who had experienced life and hadn’t been marred by its harsh realities.

He lounged back in his chair, a vision of Cassie forming in his mind. Red shoulder-length hair and bright emerald-green eyes a man could get lost in. He scrubbed his hands down his face and shot to his feet. Restless energy surged through him. He needed to get away for a couple of days.

How could he think of Cassie in that way? He had no right to, although his wife had died nearly a year ago after being in a coma for twelve years. But if it hadn’t been for him, Liz would still be alive. He’d carry that guilt to the grave.

He strode into his bedroom across the hall and snatched up a duffel bag. After stuffing a few extra pieces of clothing into it, he zipped it up and grabbed his car keys. He’d drive up the coast, clear his head.

As he walked toward the front door, his phone rang. He paused and started toward the table to pick it up. Halfway there, he stopped and let it continue to ring. Finally his answering machine picked up the call.

“Jameson, this is Scott. After seeing you tonight at the café, I knew I needed to talk to you about this story I’m working on. Please call me as soon as you can.”

Jameson reached for the receiver and froze, his wedding ring he still wore ridiculing him. No. He couldn’t deal with Cassie’s brother right now. Scott looked so much like Cassie. He would speak to the young man when he came back tomorrow evening—after he’d closed his heart to her.

THREE

Friday night Jameson tossed his duffel bag onto his bed and glanced at his answering machine. Three messages. Sinking down onto the covers, he pushed the button to listen to the recording.

“This is Scott. I was checking to see if you were home since you weren’t at the college. I want to come by to talk to you.” The time of that call was noon.

Jameson pressed the next message left three hours ago.

“I’m on to something big. I need your advice. I may be too close to this. Call as soon as you can. I have to talk to you. If I’m not here, my calls are being forwarded to my cell so I’ll be available.”

Jameson lifted his receiver and punched in Cassie’s brother’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Jameson told him to call as soon as he could, that he would be at home. Then realizing he had another message, Jameson listened to the last one, left only a half an hour before.

“Jameson! Where are you?” Jameson heard a sound in the background, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Call! I need to talk—” The line went dead.

Had someone interrupted Scott? The message ended so abruptly.

Concern seeped into Jameson. He replayed the message, but still couldn’t figure out what the noise was. He tried both Scott’s cell and his apartment, but again no answer. Why didn’t Scott pick up on his cell if he was waiting for him to call? Maybe Scott hung up earlier because he was angry that he wasn’t home. That could explain the sudden end to the message.

But what was that noise? Maybe Scott was pacing and knocked into something.

Unease nagged Jameson as he trudged toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He needed to grade those papers. He would do that while he waited for Scott to return his call. Maybe he was busy and couldn’t answer. Scott was a reporter and a grown man. He could certainly take care of himself, but there was something in his voice that…

He shook off his worry, remembering when he’d been a reporter and working a case. Sometimes he would lose track of time and become so focused on the story that nothing else mattered, not even eating.

After fixing a mug, Jameson took it into his office and settled down to work. But as he stared at the stack of essays, his mind was filled with his unsuccessful trip up the coast. Cassie’s smile still dominated his thoughts. She was a breath of fresh air in his stale life. For the past twelve years he had been going through the motions of living, but how could he have gone on with his life when Liz was in a coma because of him?

The phone blared, jerking Jameson out of his reverie. He grabbed it on the second ring, expecting it to be Scott. So when he heard Cassie, surprise—and something he didn’t want to acknowledge—flowed through him.

“Jameson, I’m sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Scott called over three hours ago and said he was coming to Magnolia Falls. He said he needed to talk to us and then see you. We haven’t seen him. Is he there?”

“No, I haven’t talked to him, but he did leave me several messages.”

“I know I shouldn’t be worried, but…” There was a long pause, then in a low voice Cassie said, “Scott didn’t sound right. Something’s wrong.”

He didn’t want to mention it, but he had to. “Have you checked with the highway patrol?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll call them,” she whispered, her distress conveyed in her hushed tone.

Remembering the urgency in Scott’s voice in the last message prompted Jameson to say, “I’ll come over. That way if he shows up I’ll be there, and we can talk then.”

“Thanks.”

Her gratefulness pushed to the background all his doubts about the wisdom of seeing her again. In his gut he knew something was wrong. He’d gotten this feeling several times when he had been a reporter and each time it had been dead-on. The last message from Scott had sounded almost frantic—not like the young man he knew. What kind of story was he working on? Why did Scott need to talk to him?

Cassie looked toward her mother sitting at the kitchen table, worry lining her face. “Jameson is coming over.” She picked up the phone again and called the highway patrol. As she asked if there were any accidents on the road between Savannah and Magnolia Falls, her mother’s expression darkened.

“Were there any?” Victoria Winters asked when Cassie replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“No.”

“Try Scott again.”

“I’ve already called and left four messages.”

Her mother rose and leaned into the table with her fists on its wooden top. “Try.”

Cassie called but didn’t bother to leave another message. Something was wrong. They both knew it but neither wanted to say it out loud. Not showing up when he’d said he would was something he had done back when he had been drinking heavily.

She could remember one time in particular a couple of years ago when her mother had insisted she go over to Scott’s apartment after he hadn’t shown up for a job interview with a friend of the family. She had found him passed out on the floor, completely unresponsive. The doctor had later said that if she hadn’t gotten him medical help when she had, he would have died.

“Something else probably came up. The life of a reporter can be unpredictable,” Cassie offered.

Her mom shook her head. “No. No, that isn’t it. He made it a point to make sure we would be here so he could talk to us. Something else has happened, Cassie. I know it in here.” She tapped her chest over her heart. “I don’t get this feeling often, but when I do, there is always something wrong.”

Cassie wanted to argue the point with her but couldn’t find the words. Her mother was right. The few times she had insisted something was wrong, it had been. “What do you want to do? Call the police?”

Her mother’s eyes grew round, and she sank down onto the chair. “The police? If for some reason Scott has started drinking again, he would be so upset that we—”

The doorbell chimed. “That’s probably Jameson. I’ll be right back.”

On her way out of the kitchen she heard her mother mutter, “He’s such a nice young man. Maybe he can help us find Scott.”

Cassie opened the front door and found Jameson King filling her entrance with his large presence. Relief flooded her as she stared into his blue eyes. “Come in. Scott still hasn’t called or shown up, and Mom is beside herself. She’s in the kitchen.”

Jameson followed her into the room and greeted her mother with a smile. “I’m sure Scott’s all right, Mrs. Winters.”

“No, he isn’t.” Her mother swung her tear-misted gaze to Cassie. “You should go to Savannah and check on him. Please. This sitting around waiting is driving me crazy.”

“Sure, Mom, and if he comes here, call me on my cell.” Her heart wrenched seeing her mother so upset. “Why don’t you lie down and rest? I’ll call you when I get to Scott’s apartment.”

“I won’t sleep until you let me know he’s fine. In fact—” she started for the counter where her purse sat “—I’m going with you. I don’t want you going alone.”

“Mom, you’ve been sick. I’ve driven back and forth from here to Savannah so many times I could do it blindfolded.”

“Darling, I don’t think you—”

“Mrs. Winters, I’ll drive Cassie to Scott’s. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Her mother fastened her attention on Jameson. “You will?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You see, I’ll be fine.” Cassie took her mother’s arm and led her toward the living room. “So while I’m gone, promise me you’ll put your feet up in your lounger and rest, or I won’t go.”

Her mom’s mouth pinched into a frown. “I don’t like being blackmailed.”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to it if you’d follow your doctor’s orders. You did too much today.” Cassie helped settle her into the comfortable chair, then put the footrest up for her. “I’m a phone call away if you need me or if Scott finally shows up.” She pulled her cell out of her jeans pocket to emphasize the point.

Her mother waved her hand. “Go, y’all. Now.”

Five minutes later Cassie sat next to Jameson in his car as he backed out of the driveway and headed toward the highway. For a moment she let the silence lengthen while she calmed herself. Her mother’s recent bout with pneumonia worried Cassie more than Scott’s lateness.

“Thanks for going to Savannah with me,” she said, needing to take her mind off her mother’s failing health. She was in God’s hands. He would care for her. “When Mom insists on something, nothing can change her mind. I’m sure that’s where my brother got his stubbornness.”

“But not you?”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m pretty laid-back.”

“How did that happen with a brother and mother who aren’t?”

“That’s why I am. Someone has to give in or you live in angst all the time. Not good for you.”

On the highway the gray of dusk cloaked the landscape in shadows. The sun sank below the tree line, coloring the pale blue sky with orange, yellow and rose. Soon it would be dark, and Cassie was secretly glad that Jameson had volunteered to drive her to Savannah. Her vivid imagination could get the best of her.

“I can’t imagine what Scott wanted to talk to Mom and me about. He didn’t give you any indication?”

“I got the impression it concerned a story he’s working on.”

“But then why would he want to talk to us? Do you think it had something to do with those students on the basketball team that he interviewed the other day? Or maybe the skeleton found under the library sidewalk? That would be a story Scott would go after.”

He shrugged. “It could be. That’s the first question we can ask him when we find him.”

Each time Jameson said “we” her smile grew. She liked the sound of it. “I just hope we don’t pass him on the highway.”

“What kind of car does he drive? I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“A 1966 red Ford Mustang.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to spot. At least not until it gets dark.”

“We’ll be on the outskirts of Savannah by that time.” Which was probably about thirty minutes away.

As silence engulfed the car again, Cassie searched her mind for a new topic of conversation. There was so much she wanted to know about Jameson, now that she had him as a captive audience. “So, where are you from originally? Where were you a reporter?”

“New York City.”

“One of the big papers?”

He nodded. “The Times.”

She whistled. “What made you give it up?”

“It was time to move on.” His tone indicated he wasn’t going to offer more information than that.

“Why did you come to Magnolia College?”

“It has a good journalism department.”

“A lot of colleges do. How’d you hear about the school?”

Cassie couldn’t help noticing his stiff posture and tight grip on the steering wheel. “I thought I was the reporter. Are you sure you don’t want to be one?”

Realizing she sounded as though she were interrogating him, she laughed, hoping to ease his strain. “I guess my brother has rubbed off on me more than I thought.” Although she attempted to lighten the mood, she was aware of the growing awkwardness in the car. Jameson was hiding something. Did it have to do with his deceased wife? She peered at his gold wedding band, barely visible in the dim dashboard lights.

“Now it’s my turn. What made you come back to Magnolia Falls after living in Savannah for years?”

“As you saw tonight, Mom isn’t well. Both Scott and I felt she needed someone to look after her. I was the one who could move the easiest.”

“Did you mind coming back?”

She thought for a moment about the question. At first she had resisted Scott’s suggestion, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d loved growing up in the small college town, and coming home would be good for her as well as her mother. “No, it was time for me to come home.”

“How does your mother feel about it?”

“She was relieved, which made me realize she was sicker than both Scott and I originally thought. Are your parents alive?”

“Both alive and well in Florida. Retired and having a ball.”

The lights of Savannah lit the dark horizon. Soon they would be at Scott’s apartment, and there was a part of Cassie that wanted this drive to last longer. She’d found out more about Jameson than she ever had before, but really it was only facts. She wanted to know so much more. But first she needed to check on her brother and put her mother’s mind at ease.

“Where does your brother live?”

She gave him Scott’s address, then the direction to his apartment. Silence fell between them again when they hit Savannah. The closer she got to her brother’s, 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 swung her attention back to Jameson. “You will?”

He nodded.

Mrs. Alexander entered the apartment with two police officers. She gestured toward Scott. “We found him like that.”

The older of the two surveyed the room, then fixed his sharp gaze upon Cassie and Jameson. “Are y’all the ones who asked Mrs. Alexander to unlock the door?”

Her mouth dry, Cassie started to answer the officer, but no words came out.

Instead, Jameson said, “Yes. We came to check on Miss Winters’s brother.”

A look passed between the two officers, then the older one indicated the entrance. “Let’s talk outside.” He waited for all three of them to exit the apartment first.

As Cassie stood on the small landing, the warm air did nothing to thaw the icy feeling that coursed through her. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and nearly jumped when Jameson placed his hand at the small of her back.

“Are you okay?”

Cassie gave Jameson a quick nod, although she wasn’t sure of anything. Her mind reeled.

“Mrs. Alexander, may we use your apartment to interview y’all?” the older policeman asked in a thick, Southern drawl.

“Yes.” The manager descended the stairs first.

Aware of his hand still touching her as though imparting some of his strength to her, Cassie followed with Jameson right behind her.

“I have to call Mom.” Sorrow squeezed her throat tightly, causing her voice to thicken. She knew from past experience she wouldn’t shed any tears—she’d learned long ago not to—but that didn’t stop her from feeling a deep sadness.

Jameson glanced back at the officer behind him. “Miss Winters needs to let her mother know what has happened.”

“After I talk with y’all, she can call her.”

Cassie halted and faced the older man. “She’s expecting my call. She’s the one who sent us here to check on Scott.”

“Why?”

“Because she was worried. He was supposed to be at our house a few hours ago, but he didn’t show up or answer his cell.” Under the police officer’s survey, she felt like a suspect being assessed.

Before the man could say anything, Cassie’s phone rang. She withdrew it from her pocket and looked toward the police officer. “It’s her calling.”

“Answer it. We’ll be inside.” The man mounted the steps to the porch with Mrs. Alexander.

Cassie’s hand quivered as she punched the On button. Her heart pounded. Dread covered her in a sheen of sweat. “Mom,” she said into the cell, her gaze glued to Jameson.

“Where’s Scott, Cassie?”

Jameson’s calming presence slowed the beating of her heart enough that she could answer, “He’s not with me.” She realized this wasn’t the way to tell her mother.

“He’s not there? Where is he?”

With the Lord, Cassie thought, but couldn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want her mother to be alone when she found out about Scott, especially in her precarious health.

“Mom, Jameson and I will be home shortly. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” She disconnected the cell before her mother pursued the conversation. She couldn’t out and out lie to her mom.

Jameson clasped her hand, his eyes full of sadness.

“I couldn’t tell her over the phone. We need to get back to Magnolia Falls as soon as possible. I have to be there when she’s told.”

“Then let’s wrap this up and head back.” His arm went around her shoulder.

She leaned into him as they entered the building. The officer was waiting for them in the doorway to Mrs. Alexander’s apartment, looking at them both grimly.

“Miss Winters, my partner just called from your brother’s place. Something doesn’t add up with your brother’s death.”

FOUR

Jameson stepped forward. “You think there may have been foul play?”

“It’s a possibility. Until we know more, we’re handling it as a murder investigation.”

“Scott murdered?” The words staggered Cassie. Jameson clasped her against him as her legs gave way. “How—I mean…” She didn’t know what to say. Thoughts that made no sense tumbled through her mind.

“Why does your partner think that?” Jameson tightened his hold on her.

“We’ll know more after our forensics team goes over the crime scene and we get the autopsy report.”

“Crime scene,” Cassie whispered, her throat raw with emotion.

“Let’s go inside and talk.” The police officer stepped to the side to allow Cassie and Jameson to enter the apartment.

He started forward.

Cassie hung back, frozen to the spot. “I can’t do this. I need to get home and tell Mom. I don’t want her to hear from anyone but me.”

“Ma’am, I understand. I’ll try to get you home as quickly as possible.” The young man went first through the entrance into Mrs. Alexander’s place.

“Cassie?”

The concern in Jameson’s voice touched the icy grip on her heart. She took a deep, fortifying breath and moved into the apartment.

The aroma of coffee drifted to her. Such an ordinary smell. Then Cassie remembered the other scents that accosted her in Scott’s living room—whiskey, blood. She shuddered.

Mrs. Alexander bustled out of the kitchen. “I’ve put a pot of coffee on. Would anyone like a cup?”

Cassie’s stomach churned, and she shook her head.

“I’ll take one.” Jameson guided her toward the couch and sat.

“Sure,” the officer said to Mrs. Alexander, who immediately went back into the kitchen. He sank into a chair across from Cassie and Jameson and opened his pad. “Tell me what happened.”

Exhausted beyond sleep, Cassie trudged into the kitchen, so glad to see Jameson still at the house even though it was well past midnight. He glanced up, quickly masking the apprehension in his expression.

“How’s your mom?” He cradled his mug and brought it to his lips to take a sip.

Cassie eased down into the chair next to him. “Finally asleep.”

He held up his cup. “Do you want any coffee?”

“No, can’t stand the stuff.” She stared at the oak tabletop, trying to put some kind of order to her thoughts. The sound of her mother’s sobs still crowded her mind. Someone did this to her family. She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I want to find whoever did this and make him pay.”

“The police will be looking into Scott’s death. It hasn’t been ruled a murder yet.”

“So you think he simply fell and hit his head on the table?”

“There was blood on the edge of it and on nothing else—at least that I could see.” The last few words were spoken with less conviction that it wasn’t murder.

“Maybe the killer took it with him.”

“You would rather Scott had been murdered than drinking again?”

“No, of course…” She tightened her hands even more until her knuckles stood out, white. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But that officer was suspicious.”

“I don’t think it’s just because Scott had liquor all over the front of his shirt. He could have spilled that on himself. Whatever it is, the police aren’t saying. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling.”

She remembered one time that her brother had been so drunk he had done that very thing. Which was worse? Her brother drinking himself to death or someone killing him?

Jameson covered her hands with his. “Let’s give the police a chance. They’ll know more after the autopsy. His blood alcohol level will indicate whether he was drinking or not.”

Anger that held her stiff siphoned from her, and she sagged against the table. “I had to listen to my mother cry herself to sleep. We had come through so much with Scott. He was getting his life back on track finally. What if someone came along and ended it—” she snapped her fingers “—just like that. It could be tied to a story he was working on.”

“Why do you say that?” Jameson downed the last swig of his drink.

“All the questions about whether Scott worked at home or not, how he kept notes on a story he was investigating. Right before we left, I overheard one of the detectives say he was going down to the newspaper next.”

“That could mean anything. Scott had already gained quite a reputation for digging until he discovered the whole truth. He’d made a few people unhappy with some of his stories.”

Cassie scraped the chair back and shot to her feet. “Exactly! Scott could have made someone angry with one of his pieces, and he got even by killing him.”

“That’s a possibility, and the police will look into it. But they’re also asking questions about Scott and his drinking.”

Leaning forward, she rested her knuckles on the plaid place mat. “After the scene is processed, they want me to go through Scott’s place and see if anything is missing.”

“The police need to rule out robbery as a motive, if he was murdered.”

The thought of going through her brother’s possessions, knowing she would have to box them up soon, chilled her. “I—I know, but…”

Jameson rose. “Do you want me to go with you? I don’t mind helping.”

“I hate to ask you—”

He covered the small space between them and clasped her arms, compelling her to look up into his face. “You didn’t ask. I volunteered. I don’t mind. Scott was a friend. You are a friend.”

His words melted some of the cold deep in the marrow of her bones. Emotions she’d held at bay wedged a lump in her throat.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “It’s okay to cry.”

She fought the tears back. “I don’t like to cry.”

“Why?”

It’s a sign of weakness, of losing control. Her gymnastics coach’s words came back to her. Whenever she had fallen in practice, she was never allowed to shed one tear. After years it had become ingrained in her. But she couldn’t tell Jameson that. Instead she murmured, “I just don’t.”

The steady beat of his heart drummed against her ear. His faint scent surrounded her and brought some consolation to her.

“It’s never easy losing a loved one,” Jameson finally said, breaking the silence. “No matter the reason for the death.”

She remembered the death of his wife at the end of last year. Had he had anyone to help him through his pain? He always seemed so alone. Was he experiencing his own loss again?

Cassie pulled back, their gazes reconnecting. “I know. If you ever want to talk about your wife, I’m a good listener.”

Surprise flickered in and out of his eyes. “This isn’t about me.”

If she pushed back her own sorrow and helped Jameson with his, would it fill the void Scott’s death left in her? “This is about losing a loved one, and you lost your wife last year.”

He backed away. “I had plenty of time to prepare myself for her death. She was sick for quite some time.”

“Can you ever really prepare yourself for a loved one’s death?”

He took another step away from her. “How did this conversation suddenly become about me?”

“Have you talked to anyone about your wife dying?” She didn’t really need to ask him that question. She knew the answer.

His gaze narrowed, his face frowned. “I need to leave. Let me know if you want me to go with you to Scott’s when the police give you the okay.”

She understood he was closing the door on any conversation concerning his deceased wife. But still, she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. “I’ll let you know when they call. Mom won’t want me to go alone, and I don’t think she should go right now.”

“Are you going to say anything to your mother about the possibility of Scott being murdered?”

“I could only bring myself to tell her it was an accident. She’s been through so much with Scott and her own failing health. I don’t want her to know it could have been murder until the police declare that officially. I’ve asked them not to talk to Mom until they absolutely have to. The detective said he would let me know when.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t say anything, but you may want to moderate the news in case some reporter speculates about the investigation.”

She nodded. “I hate to think what this will do to Mom if it is true.”

The grief he saw in Cassie’s eyes mirrored his own grief for his wife. Maybe if he helped Cassie and her mother through their sorrow, it would ease some of his guilt.

“I’d better go. Call me after you talk to the police.” Jameson crossed to the dining room entrance.

Outside in the cool fall air, he paused, trying not to remember the words Liz’s father shouted at him that day long ago in the hospital. But he couldn’t forget them. They burned into his mind as though the man had branded him with them.

You’re responsible for my daughter lying here in this bed.

And he couldn’t argue that point. He was responsible.

Sunday afternoon Jameson pulled into the long driveway that led to Scott’s apartment above the garage. “So the police have made it official. He was murdered.”

“That’s what Detective Harrison told me. He was hit with some kind of blunt object. The amount of alcohol in his system was minimal, likely poured in his mouth postmortem. They are searching the surrounding area to see if anything turns up.”

“But they’re through with the apartment?”

“Yes and his car is in the garage.” On the drive to Savannah, she and Jameson had discussed everything but what had happened to Scott, as though they had mutually decided to avoid the subject for as long as possible. “I called Mrs. Alexander and she told me the key would be under Scott’s doormat. She wasn’t sure she would be home from church when we arrived.”

“Did you tell your mother before you left?”

“No. I will when I get back home. I didn’t want to leave right after I told her.” Cassie opened the passenger door and climbed from the car.

“Does she know you’re coming to Scott’s place?”

Cassie rounded the front of the vehicle and halted, facing the garage. “Yes. A neighbor is staying with her until I return home. And our pastor is stopping in to see her after church.”

Jameson came to her side, his arm brushing against hers. “Now that I see this in broad daylight, his apartment is pretty secluded.”

“Yeah, the way Scott wanted it. I helped him move in. I wish I hadn’t.”

Jameson fit her hand within his. “That wouldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to live here.” He gestured toward the structure at the far end of the driveway.

The three-car garage sat at the back of the property, with the entrance to the apartment above it around the back. Large azalea bushes obscured the path in several places. “I could easily see someone lying in wait for Scott.”

“But I didn’t see any signs of a struggle in his apartment, and I doubt anyone hit him over the head and dragged him up the steps.”

Cassie gasped. “You think it was someone Scott knew?”

“Possibly.”

The implication sent her heart pounding, its roar drowning out all sounds for a few minutes as she thought of her brother being killed by someone he trusted. A cool breeze stirred the leaves on the live oak shading the driveway, causing the Spanish moss to dance as though someone were pulling its strings. Cassie hugged her sweater to her.

“What do we do?” she whispered around the knot in her throat.

“We check out his apartment and let the police know if anything is missing. Then we let them do their job.”

The way he said “we” warmed her. She felt comforted just knowing she wouldn’t have to go through this ordeal alone. “Thank you.”

“I’m just doing what any friend would do.” He guided her toward the stairs.

Slowly Cassie mounted the steps, each one bringing her closer to the murder scene. She withdrew the key from under the mat and tried to unlock the door, but her hands shook.

“Here, I’ll do it.” After taking the key from her grasp, Jameson inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. He eased the door open, then faced her, taking her quivering hands within his. “I’m with you every step of the way. If you want to do this another day, just say the word and we’re out of here.”

She welcomed his presence more than he would ever know. She forced herself to smile, but she couldn’t maintain it. “I need to get this over with. If something is missing, it might help the police find out who killed Scott.”

Wordlessly Jameson entered her brother’s apartment first, scanning the living room before allowing her inside. When she stepped through the entrance, she found it difficult to breathe. Her gaze was riveted to the spot on the carpet where Scott had been lying, the dry, red stain ridiculing her remaining composure. The faint stench of blood accosted her nostrils, and she gagged.

She bit her lower lip and backed up, her fingers pressing into her mouth. Suddenly she wanted to cry, but no tears came. Scott was gone. She no longer had to protect him and look out for him, but she wished she still did.

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell Mom Scott was murdered.”

Jameson drew her past the place on the rug where they had found Scott and down the short hall. “Let’s start in his bedroom.”

The first thing that struck her when she saw the room was how neat and orderly her brother had always been. Even his bed was made, whereas she often left hers a mess. They had been so different. She stood in the entrance and swept her gaze over the pieces of furniture, trying to visualize what Scott had.

“His TV is still here. And his radio.” Cassie walked farther inside, trying to remember what she’d helped him move a few months back. “He really doesn’t have a whole lot besides his TV, radio and—” she spun around “—his computer. Did you see it in the living room?”

“No. Where does he usually keep it?”

Cassie crossed to the closet and opened it. “Wherever he decides to work. It’s a laptop.” After inspecting the contents of the shelf and floor, she turned toward Jameson. “If his murder is connected to his work, then the computer is important as well as his tape recorder.”

“Then let’s search for them.” He made his way back into the living area.

Cassie again paused in the entrance, glad that the couch blocked her view of the red-stained carpet. She did a visual sweep of the large room with the kitchen off to the left, but saw nothing out of place. A picture of her brother sitting at the small kitchen table typing on his laptop popped into her mind. She peered toward it, but its bare surface mocked her.

While Jameson circled the spacious open area, Cassie hung back, frozen in place. Sweat broke out on her forehead and palms. She watched while Jameson opened cabinets and drawers in the small kitchen and even checked the refrigerator.

Finally he faced her, his gaze reaching out to her. “I can’t find the laptop or recorder. Would they be anywhere else?”

“Maybe in his car. I know the police inventoried its contents. They didn’t say anything about his laptop being in it.”

“How about at the paper?”

Cassie shook her head. “He has a computer there. And he always had his recorder on him in case something came up unexpectedly. There wouldn’t be any reason for it to be at the newspaper.”

“Then let’s take a look at his car. If we don’t find them, we can tell the police they are missing for sure.”

“Which means his murder is probably connected to something he was working on.”

Jameson closed the space between them. “Yes. Do you know what story he was writing?”

“No, he always kept things secret until his story came out. The last story published was that series on corruption at nursing homes run by the Bender Corporation. The last article was a few days ago.”

“Let’s go check his car, then call Detective Harrison.”

“Yeah, I need to get home and talk to Mom before someone else tells her.” But first she had to walk past that stain in the carpet.

She started forward but couldn’t move. When Jameson turned back to her, her gaze shifted toward the area where Scott had been lying when they had found him Friday night. “I—I can’t…”

Jameson held out his hand for her.

A fine sheen of perspiration covered her face. She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans, then lifted one toward him. It quavered between them.

His firm clasp surrounded her fingers. “You won’t have to come back here again, Cassie, if you don’t want to.”

His calm voice soothed her raw nerves, but still her legs wouldn’t obey the command from her brain to walk.

I can do this.

Then suddenly Psalm 23 flowed through her mind, prodding her forward. When she got to the place where the red stain was, she said out loud, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

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