“She was about the age of your daughter at the time of the accident.”
Dowd paled. “Don’t compare Jenna to Greer. My girl is a hard worker. Makes good grades and is a straight shooter. She doesn’t run around with rich country club kids. I won’t allow it.”
“You know about Greer’s time at Shady Grove?”
“No. Why would I? I do know it’s a place for rich kids who can’t cut it.”
“You ever know anyone who stayed at Shady Grove?”
“Like I said many of my clients are rich. If they or their kids spent time at the place, I didn’t know about it. I keep it polite with that kind because they’re my bread and butter, but I don’t mix with them.”
“Greer received a call the other night at the Crisis Center. The caller was female. She said some mighty nasty things to Greer.”
“So?”
“She said the caller sounded young.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Your daughter is young. Would you have put her up to the call?”
The color drained from his face. “How dare you drag my daughter into this. She was just a baby when Sydney died.”
“She loves you very much. Maybe you put her up to the call.”
“No. Never.”
Bragg looked around the barn, absorbing details. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay away from Greer Templeton.”
“Why, Ranger? I was mad and I told her so. Last I checked it’s a free country.”
He bared white teeth into a smile that was not a smile. “Yes, sir, it is. But I’m offering you a friendly warning where it comes to Ms. Templeton. Leave her be.”
“What’s she to you? She your girlfriend?”
He had no idea what Greer was to him, other than a name in an investigation or a mentor to his nephew. He’d known her all of five days, but it was enough to care. To protect. But Dowd didn’t need a speech on the matter. He took a step toward Dowd. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Dr. Dowd.”
Dowd took a step back but mutiny burned in his gaze.
A blistering headache pounded behind Jennifer’s eyes as she moved across the parking lot toward her car. She clicked the entry and moved behind the wheel, savoring the heat of the seats. She’d been cold all day, unable to shake the chill slithering into her bones the moment she’d stepped into the shop today. The shop had felt off, wrong. She’d searched for signs of a break-in or trouble, but when everything checked out she’d attributed her unease to Greer’s visit.
Greer had stirred the cauldron of her emotions. She’d rattled her. Made her edgy. And then that damn Ranger had arrived. He’d reminded her of an ancient barbarian. No conscience. No concern. Even the thought of the man made her stomach churn.
The afternoon in the shop had been crazy busy and she’d set a record in sales. Any other day and she’d have been brimming with satisfaction, but today panic burrowed as if the foundation under her feet crumbled.
Needing to connect to the present, she dialed her fiancé. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey, babe,” she said.
“You headed home?” His soft smooth voice soothed her. Unlike Bragg, Adam was a sweet, kind man.
She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten that lucky, but she’d landed a great guy. She’d do anything not to lose him. “Yes. We were late closing. Couldn’t get rid of some customers. One didn’t buy a single item, but the other bought a nice Vera Wang. The sales justified the extra half hour.”
“Good job.”
She traced the steering wheel with a manicured finger. The day’s stress ebbed from her muscles. “So what are you doing?”
“Hanging out by the pool waiting for you, babe. Hurry home. We can go skinny-dipping.”
She laughed, reaching for her water bottle. “Sounds fun. See you in a few.”
She drank deeply from the bottle, savoring the cold water. It refreshed her. Fuck Greer and all the bullshit from the past. She was in a good place now, and if someone really did figure out the truth, what could be proved? Nothing.
She yawned as she backed out of her spot and headed down Congress Avenue. She was glad Adam’s house was a couple of miles from her store. She was more tired than she’d thought. At a second stoplight she closed her eyes determined to rest them for only a minute. The honking of a horn behind her startled her awake and had her shaking her head. What was wrong with her? She’d not experienced this kind of bone-weary fatigue since . . . since the night she’d taken that bottle of her mother’s pills.
Fear rose up from a hidden part in her, and she gripped her steering wheel. She’d not touched a drug in twelve years. Not even an aspirin. And she’d not had a drink of alcohol in over a year. But she felt drugged. Panic growing, she pulled her car over to the side of the road and reached for her cell phone. Her vision blurred as she stared at the numbers that now danced and spun. Just like before, she panicked after taking the pills and dialed 911.
She hit the nine but an extreme heaviness had her head tipping back against the headrest. Wake up! She fumbled her thumb from the nine to the one and managed to hit it once. She hit the second one but fatigue pried her fingers open and the cell dropped from her hands before she could hit SEND.
Greer dreamed of the accident again. Lights, a horrendous crash, and screaming.
She sat up in bed, and shoved a trembling hand through her hair. Her heart raced and her mouth had grown as dry as cotton. A glance at the clock told her it was minutes after three.
Rising, she moved into the kitchen, took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water. She drank heavily, savoring the water as if she’d not had any in days.
Finally, when she didn’t feel extremely parched she turned and leaned against the sink, cradling the glass close to her chest. The thought of returning to bed left a chill in her bones. She didn’t want to risk reliving the accident again. There was work, always work, but she was weary of staring at numbers and worrying over the ripeness of her vineyard.
Restless, she set down the glass. If Lydia had been alive, she’d have risen by now, made them both tea, and together they’d sit at the kitchen table and discuss everything and nothing. Now without Lydia, she was adrift.
Her mind went to Bragg. Perhaps if it had been the clear light of day she’d have pushed thoughts of him away, but here alone in the dark she welcomed his warm embrace, if merely in her imagination.
After moments passed, she felt foolish standing here alone thinking of a man out of her reach. She pushed away from the counter, set down the glass, and returned to her room. With a wary glance toward her unmade bed, she went to her closet and turned on the light inside. Her gaze roamed over her collection of shirts and jeans up to boxes that stacked high on the top shelf. She reached for the lowest box but at first her fingers only grazed the dusty cardboard. Finally, she grabbed a chrome chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of the closet.
On the chair she had a better view of the boxes that stored what little she’d kept from her old life. When she’d left Shady Grove she’d had a suitcase full of clothes, but over the next month her mother had sent more and more of her belongings. Holding bits of her life before the accident had been too painful to bear, but she also couldn’t let go of her before life either. To do that would erase Jeff. That’s why she’d stored each of the boxes in the closet.
She scanned the boxes and found the one she wanted in the middle on the far left. Leaning forward she tugged carefully at the box until it slid out.
Greer climbed off the chair and sat on the edge of her bed. She removed the box top and stared at the collection of trinkets. They’d been what she’d brought with her from Shady Grove. On the bottom she found what she’d been searching for—an image. The picture Bragg had of Rory and her had been taken from this picture, which also featured Sam, Jennifer, and Sara. She studied the picture of the five smiling faces. Such bruised gazes in such young faces.
She remembered that night. It was their last together, and she?
?d been despondent. She’d threatened not to come to the final roundup at the campfire. Instead, she’d stayed in her room, nursing bitterness over Rory’s leaving.
It had been another kid, Jack, a quiet shy boy with stringy blond hair and thick glasses, who’d come to find her. He rarely spoke to her or anyone but that night he’d coaxed her out of her room, waving his camera and telling her she had to be in the picture. The others said the picture wouldn’t be complete without her. And so she’d pushed aside her anger and gone to the fire. Rory had tossed his arm around her, as if nothing were wrong, and kissed her on the lips. Then all of them had grinned at the camera. Jack had snapped the picture.
She traced Rory’s beautiful face. She’d read in the paper that his funeral was Monday afternoon. She wasn’t welcome but she’d be going. It seemed fitting.
Her gaze moved from face to face in the image. Two of the five were now dead. What had they done to warrant death? As she fingered the edge of the fading image she knew she had to give this to Bragg.
When Jennifer woke to the sharp scent of ammonia, a bright light shone in her eyes. Her brain, drowsy and sluggish, struggled to focus. She pushed through the confused thoughts, trying to remember what had happened. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she’d taken too many sleeping pills.
Ammonia cut through her airways.
She coughed as she sat straighter and realized her wrist was handcuffed to a bed.
“What is this?” Her voice sounded garbled and muffled like a drunk’s.
“It’s your chance.” The man’s voice came from beyond the light.
More sharp smells of ammonia and she coughed and shook her head no. “Get that away from me.”
He chuckled. “As soon as I know you’re awake.”
“I’m awake. I’m awake.” Fear hadn’t penetrated the thick grogginess.
“Good.”
She moistened dry lips. The last she remembered, she was in her car struggling to stay awake. She’d had a sip of water and wondered why she’d felt so drugged. “What’s wrong with me? I feel drugged. But,” she said, moistening dry lips, “that can’t be right. I haven’t had a drink in a year.”
“You’ve got to be careful about what you eat and drink.”
“I am.”
“Not careful enough.”
As her head began to clear, she looked into the face of the man speaking. His expression wasn’t menacing and his demeanor relaxed. He dressed well. Smiled.
She tried to sit up but her head spun. A glance around told her she was lying on a bed. She looked around the room. Simply furnished, there was a television, a desk and chair, and the two windows had been covered with black plastic and duct tape. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe.”
Fear flickered as did annoyance. “What does ‘somewhere safe’ mean?”
“It’s a place where we won’t be bothered. Where we can talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.” Again, she tried to sit up but found she was almost completely immobile. She jerked her hand. The cuffs rattled but didn’t budge. “What the hell?”
“I’m giving you an opportunity.”
“What are you talking about?” The sharpened edges of her voice belied his soft tones.
He turned away from her and sighed. “A chance to purge. To release the burden you’ve been carrying for twelve years.”