C.J. Urban - Julie Townsend 01 - Hidden Intent (5 page)

Julie whipped around and came face to face with a large black cat, standing alert with its back arched and tail high, ready to defend itself. She put a hand on her chest and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Sam was counting louder now, he was up to eighty-one-Mississippi, and she could tell he was trying his best to be brave. “It’s just a cat, Sammy,” she yelled down to him.

“Can I come up now?” He called anxiously.

“Yeah. Come on up.”

Julie entered the room and flipped on the light. Carefully avoiding numerous cobwebs, she moved to the window and found it was open just enough for the cat to squeeze through. She closed and secured it, remembering Tara’s last diary entry to lock the window. She shivered and went out to join Sam in the hall.

Sam was standing next to the cat. Both looked wary. “I don’t think it likes people,” he stated.

Julie gingerly took a step toward the cat. For a split second, its amber eyes locked with hers, and then it took off down the stairs.

“Told you,” Sam said. “You should let it out.”

“I’ll go down there in a few minutes. You look tired, Sam. You ready for bed?”

“I guess,” Sam never wanted to go to bed, but he
was
tired. It had been a long day.

“Alright, let’s get you settled.” She waited while he put on his PJ’s and looked for a book. “Which one are we reading tonight?”

“Wayside School,” he said, yawning and handing the book to her. Sam was a great reader, but Julie wanted to carry on the tradition of reading to him every night for as long as she could. It took only about ten minutes for him to fall fast asleep. Julie replaced the book to its shelf and bent down to kiss her brother on the forehead. She turned off the light and left the door ajar.

The house was completely silent now. Julie descended the stairs to look for the terrified cat. To her astonishment, she found it curled up in her favorite chair, purring as if no place were more comfortable.

She opened the front door and waited to see if the cat would leave, but it merely looked at her, blinked twice, curled its tail around its face and closed its eyes.

“Fine,” she announced. “I guess you’re staying, then.”

Julie lay in bed for a long while that night, pondering her cousin’s murder. She had a nagging suspicion that Jacob Leigh was, as many others thought, wrongfully convicted. Although she barely knew any true facts about the case, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the real killer was still out there, free. Perhaps still dangerous, even after all these years.

Hours later her eyes were so heavy she couldn’t keep them open any longer. She closed them, fighting visions of a strange man peering into her room, until she finally fell into a dark and fitful sleep.

Chapter
8

Early the next morning Julie awoke to find the amber-eyed, black cat staring down at her. She jerked the covers up to her face, surprised, but then relaxed and slowly reached over to pet it. The cat immediately jumped from the bed, scurrying underneath.

She leaned over to look. The cat peeked out at her, swishing its tail. “I need to get you some food, little buddy. Not to mention shots, a collar, and a few toys so you can have some entertainment.”

The cat poked its head out and edged away from Julie toward the door. It scampered through the hallway and down the stairs.

Julie chuckled, snuggling back under the blankets, and savored the last few moments of peace before facing the day ahead. There was still a lot of work to be done. She’d unpacked the boxes, but the house was still in need of some serious cleaning.

Finally she climbed out of bed and pulled on her favorite Bermuda shorts and a light green tank top. It was already warming up.
This heat is going to kill me,
she thought as she slipped her feet into her sandals.

The main
thing she wanted to do today – aside from cleaning – was visit her uncle. Sam didn’t really know him, and she thought her Uncle Oliver might like some visitors. And, although she wasn’t pleased to know that Tara had been murdered inside the home, she wanted to thank him personally for letting them stay there.

She crossed the hall to Sam’s bedroom, but found he wasn’t there. She made her way downstairs, figuring he was exploring the house, and as she entered the kitchen she found him sitting on the island, swinging his legs and eating Doritos and sour cream.

“That’s a horrible breakfast, Sammy,” Julie said, laughing. She took the bag from him and put it back in the pantry. “Let’s have some waffles and peanut butter. That’s still fun, and it’s a little better for you.”

Five minutes later Sam was devouring both waffles. “Mmm,” he said, spreading the peanut butter all over his mouth, then licking it clean.

Julie handed him a napkin. “Today is going to be a busy day, Sam. After we get Midnight some cat food and toys, we’re going to visit Uncle Oliver.”

“Midnight?”

“Isn’t that a cute name for a black cat?”

“’Midnight,’” Sam repeated, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. I like it. So where does Uncle Oliver live?”

“He lives in a retirement community. That’s a place for elderly people. It’s called Sunnyside. It shouldn’t take too long, but I want to talk with him about a few things. And you be sure to thank him for letting us live here.”

“Even if I don’t like it?” Sam asked.

“Even if you don’t like it,” Julie retorted. “He’s being very kind to us. And, give it a chance, Sammy. You’ll get used to it here.”

“Alright,” Sam moped. “But then can we do something fun?”

“We’ll see. This place needs to be cleaned.”

“It’s hot here,” Sam observed. “Not cool, like the beach.”

“Well, get some shorts and flip-flops. You’ll get used to the heat, too.”

Sam put his plate in the sink and trudged upstairs to change. Julie watched him go, wondering if moving all the way up here was such a good idea after all. He’d been through a lot. They both had. She missed her parents as much as he did. She encouraged him to talk about them, but she tried to hide her sadness from him. She didn’t even know if
that was the right thing to do. “You’re doing the best you can, girl,” she told herself as she rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher.

Sam came back into the kitchen, wearing shorts and a tee shirt.
Laundry,
Julie reminded herself.
I have to do laundry too.

Sighing, Julie grabbed her purse, and she and Sam left the house. After a brief stop for cat food and supplies, they drove to Sunnyside Retirement Community. She parked in the small lot designated for visitors and they walked through an open gate, following a path that led directly into the neighborhood.

Julie had never seen a place like Sunnyside before. The houses were small and quaint, and looked flawless, which made her sad for some reason. Each house was painted the same gray and white, and each had an immaculate lawn and garden of roses and tulips.

Julie made her way to a building labeled “Visitor Center,” with Sam following. He’d brought a yo-yo with him and was working the toy pretty well. They entered and found themselves in a cool, air-conditioned office. She had no idea which house her uncle lived in.

“Excuse me,” Julie said politely to the woman at the desk.

The woman gave Julie a businesslike smile. “Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so,” Julie said, returning the smile. “I’m trying to find Oliver McGuire’s house.”

“Are you relatives of his?” She asked.

“Yes. I’m his niece, and this is his nephew. We’re here to visit him.”

“I’ll page Mr. McGuire to see if he’s feeling up to visitors.”

Julie thought it odd that the woman had the ability to page her uncle’s home, but reasoned it must be for the safety of the residents.

She listened while the woman spoke to her uncle for a moment. Then the woman turned to Julie. “He says he’d be happy to see you. I’ll have one of our drivers take you to his home.”

The woman directed Julie and Sam outside to a small lot containing several golf carts. Sam was extremely impressed, and excited to ride in one. Julie greatly appreciated not having to walk in the hot morning sun.

They arrived at his house a few minutes later, and found Uncle Oliver was already outside, sitting on a small bench in front of his house. He beamed at them, apparently too eager to wait inside.

Julie and Sam got off the cart, and before they even reached the walkway, the cart driver sped off, back toward the Visitor’s Center.

“Hi, Uncle Oliver,” Julie said, tentatively approaching him. She hadn’t seen him since Sam was a baby, and felt a little awkward.

“Well, hello, hello, dear Julie!” Her uncle greeted warmly. He rose from the bench and held out his hands to grasp hers. “Nice to see you.” Then he turned his attention to Sam, and his smile widened even more. “I haven’t seen you since you were six months old, and look at you! Now you’re a handsome young man.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, smiling a little uncomfortably.

“Can we come inside?” Julie asked. “It’s sweltering out here.”

“Of course, of course,” her uncle answered. “Come on in.” He turned, motioning for them to follow. Inside, Julie quickly closed the door to keep the air inside cool.

“So, what brings you two here?” Oliver asked, settling himself into a chair. Again, he gestured for them to do the same. “How’s everything at the house? I’m glad it’s being used again. It has so much potential.”

“It does,” Julie agreed, although with slight trepidation. “I’m busy cleaning it up. It’s a nice house.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said, but his eyes looked into the distance now, lost in thought.

“We wanted to come say hi, and to thank you for letting us stay there.”

Oliver waved a hand. “You’re family, my dear. Of course I want you to stay there.”

“It’s just that…” Julie didn’t know how to broach the subject. “There is something I’d like to talk with you about.”

Julie’s uncle locked eyes with her now, and he seemed very sad. “It’s about Tara, isn’t it?”

Julie nodded. “More specifically, about her murder.”

“I thought so. I was afraid to tell you, but it’s a small town, and word gets around, unless you’re very, very careful. What happened to Tara had the whole town talking for over a year.”

Julie took a deep breath. Better to just say it. “I think that Tara’s killer is still out there somewhere. I don’t think he was ever caught.”

Chapter
9

Oliver sat silent a moment, eyes frozen with shock.

“I’m sorry,” Julie said gently. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” She chided herself inwardly.
There’s a reason he’s in a retirement home, you dummy. You don’t want to give him a heart attack or anything.

“No, no, Julie,” he said, recovering somewhat. “You’re not the only one who thought that. It’s just been so long. So long, but the pain of losing her never goes away.” Oliver slumped in his chair, looking like the tired and old man that he was. “What makes you think that?”

Julie explained to her uncle what she’d found in Tara’s room; the pictures and the diary entries. He listened eagerly.

“And,” she said, “Some of the diary pages have been torn out.” She stopped, feeling like an intruder into his personal and painful past. “I didn’t mean to pry, Uncle Oliver. I…well, I
am
living there now, and I was just curious. I didn’t really know what happened, until someone in town told me.”

“It’s alright,” he said wearily. “I understand.”

“Uncle Oliver, did you take those pages from her diary?”

“No. I remember the police asking me the same question. I didn’t take them. And I’ve always wondered what happened to them.”

“Huh. Do you think Tara would have ripped them out?”

“I really don’t have any idea,” he said. “She wasn’t good at hiding things. I knew about her boyfriend, Lucas. I didn’t say anything, because I thought he was a good kid. He was questioned, but he was so distraught that he wasn’t considered a suspect. And, he had a solid alibi.”

Julie mulled this over. Then she told him, “Her most recent diary entries mention she was afraid of a boy she called ‘D.’ It says she saw him watching her from outside her bedroom window. Did you know anything about that?”

“A boy outside her window? No, she never told me anything about being afraid, or of the boy. And, although the diaries were returned to me from the police, I never read them. I sometimes wish I had.”

“Tara also mentioned that you were gone the weekend of her death,” Julie tried to be delicate.

“It was a business trip,” Oliver answered bitterly. “It wasn’t even necessary for me to go, but I left her anyway. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret it.”

Julie didn’t want to overwhelm her poor uncle, but she felt he deserved to know her theory, especially if it turned out to be right. “The boy she wrote about in her diary, the one she called D, I have a suspicion that he was the one who killed Tara. Not Jacob Leigh.”