Distant Obsession (4 page)

Three

The newspaper slipped from nervous fingers to land on the beige carpeted floor.

“Goodness, Lilah.” Beth scooped up the discarded item. “You’re quite clumsy today.”

Lilah snatched the journalistic crap from Beth’s light clasp before the woman had a chance to peruse the contents. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Beth wandered to the book cart. “I’ll shelve this batch and let you man the check-out booth. Don’t want Miss Brewster breathing fire for dropped books and bent pages.”

A sigh of relief whooshed from dry lips. She glanced at the article again and a shiver cascaded along her spine.
Senator Ben Randall’s Murder Remains a Mystery.

After a year, the investigation had drawn to a close with no answers
and no leads, other than the misguided attempt to frame her
. She stared at the ring-less finger where she’d once worn a one-carat solitaire diamond, a symbol that held little meaning now.

Beth looked up from the cart and nodded toward the paper Lilah still held. “Sad isn’t it. I say the wife did it, probably just to get his money. I understand he was rich. If you ask me, the fact she went into hiding says it all.”

The needless attempt to hide the story went unnoticed by Beth. Instead the coworker took delight in rehashing events better left buried.

“They found no evidence linking her to the murder.”

“So? She’s obviously pretty gifted at hiding her tracks.” Beth stared at the image of Lilah Randall plastered on the surface. “Say. Anyone ever tell you how much you look like that woman. Dye the hair blonde, and you’d be a dead ringer.”

“You think so?” Better to agree than make excuses. ”I think my nose is bigger.”

  “Well, maybe not. Your eyes are prettier. You two even have the same first name. Anyway, I say she ran off to Europe. That sister of hers is missing, too, which probably means she’s involved in the murder as well.”

“I wish everyone would just leave those poor women alone. I’m sure they’ve suffered enough.
” The paper rustled between anxious fingers.

“You’re too forgiving. Hey, I bet they did it for the insurance money. That’s the way most murder plots pan out.” Beth lifted a worn copy of
Huckleberry Finn
. “I’m so glad we live in a small community where there’s rarely any crime, unless of course you count Henry Wellman’s theft of farmer Hatley’s watermelons.”

“Me, too.”

For working in a library, Beth wasn’t all that sharp, otherwise she’d put the clues together by now. Thank goodness her summation of the murder had come to an end. Lilah could have offered more of an argument, but the attempt was usually wasted on the less informed.

“You must have hated living in Georgetown. Hey wait, that’s the same place that Senator Randall resided. Dang, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up such a tragic event. Did you ever meet the man?”

The lie Lilah fabricated in her mind rumbled about like a loose wheel bearing. The black print blurred on the grayish white paper as she focused past her new
acquaintance
. Perhaps a half-truth would suffice. “A chance encounter left me with the impression of a charismatic leader.”

“Wow. I’ve never met anyone famous before. Of course, living in the sticks doesn’t lend itself to many opportunities.” She disappeared between the stacks,
Huck
in hand.

Miss Brewster poked her head from the office and shushed them for being too loud. “Clients appreciate a quiet atmosphere for reading.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lilah whispered the affirmative while inwardly rolling her eyes. Only one client utilized library space during the late afternoon, and the old man was so deaf, they could be shouting and the noise wouldn’t hinder his enjoyment of the book,
Lolita
. The dirty pervert
. Thankfully, the clock indicated a few minutes to the end of her shift. Wednesdays were always slow but allowed time to catch up on filing and computer data input.

She returned the newspaper to the pile on a low table surrounded by three chairs. A few magazines littered the area and gave her a task to complete the remainder of her hours at the
Booneville
Public Library. Though not the type of work she’d have chosen under normal circumstances, the place offered an isolated environment and a steady income.

The little hand bounced into place on the battery-operated clock and signaled an end to another boring day. After slipping on a light sweater and stamping her time card, she exited the historic brick building and jogged down the half-story flight of stairs.

A woosh of cool air caressed her skin; the fall weather a welcome change from an unusually hot summer. Dry leaves danced across the sidewalk. On either side, tall blackgum trees displayed a canapé of crimson that contrasted nicely against a vivid blue sky. Smiling at the natural beauty around her, she walked slowly to the parking lot, in no hurry to rush home to the loneliness of her isolated dwelling by the lake. 

The sudden chaotic melody of a Red Hot Chili Pepper’s song clashed with the gentle chirp of doves. A quick scramble for the i-phone had her digging deep into the bottom of her overfull purse. She pulled the cell out just in time to slide the arrow to the left and answer the call. “Ashley?”

“Hi Sis.”

“Where the hell are you?”
Juggling purse, phone, and keys, she slipped behind the wheel of her 2009 Jeep.

“At the airport.”

“Where?”

“The Tri Cities Airport in Blountville. Got time to give me a lift to your place or should I take a taxi?”

Lilah sat back, shocked at hearing her sister’s voice. “Take a taxi. I’ll get supper started, and we can have a long chat. Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“I know, but I couldn’t handle all the hype.” Background noise filtered in, and Ashley’s voice sounded distant as if talking to someone else. “You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I just had the driver load my things in the trunk of his taxi. Be there soon.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you in about forty.”

“And Sis, I missed you.”

The cell went dead. Lilah stared at the screen for a long time before tossing it into her purse and starting the engine. The twenty-minute trip home gave her a chance to reminisce. It also gave time to worry.

Ashley had been in hiding, too, since the night of Ben’s murder. The double homicide of an influential senator and his mistress had made national news before turning her life and Ashley’s into circus hell. She pushed back the horrid thoughts, the images of her husband collapsed upon his lover and the blood that covered their marriage bed.

No, I refuse to go there, not tonight.

As soon as she parked her Jeep, Lilah rushed into the spacious wooden cabin situated on Lake
Watauga
and tossed her purse and keys on the table. A quick glance confirmed the tidy appearance of the living area and kitchen. She pulled a package of frozen lasagna from the freezer and popped their main course into the oven. After setting the temperature and time, she hurried to the guest room and put fresh sheets on the queen-sized bed.

The moment she fluffed the pillows, a knock sounded. Ashley had arrived.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” The bear hug they exchanged couldn’t make up for a year of lost time. “Here, let me help with your bags.”

Ashley followed her inside and sniffed. “Frozen lasagna. You never were much of a cook.”

“No and living alone hasn’t helped. Cooking for one isn’t my thing.”

Ashley cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with the reference to Lilah’s lack of marital status. Instead, her sister directed the conversation to topics less touchy; until after dinner when they were both curled in front of the fireplace with a glass of sangria.

“I see you’ve made a lot of changes to the decorative flair of Dad’s old fishing cabin. Definitely an improvement. I never understood why Mom left his old stuff up on the walls after the divorce.”

“She still loved him to her last breath.”

“Never thought of it that way. You could be right. Still, all the rods, guns, and stuff were too masculine for my taste.”

Lilah smirked. “Especially the trophies and mounted stripers. Used to freak me out the way all the eyes stared at me each time I entered the room.”

Ashley cast a coyish glance above the rim of her glass. “So – how long you plan to shut yourself off from the world?”

“I’m not shut off. I still paint, and the fresh air is good for the soul.”

“Well, I’m glad you like the solitude. I couldn’t take being in hiding anymore. You’re my initiation back into the world of the living.” Ashley laughed and hair a shade darker than Lilah’s bobbed about a round face. “Besides, I had a feeling you might need me.”

Ash was right, but she refused to admit it out loud. “You always did have a six sense about things.” As early as she could remember, her sister had the ability to perceive things not of this world.

“Mwahahah. And things that go bump in the night.”

Lilah giggled at her sister’s playful mannerisms then sobered. “I heard from Dad the other day. The media hounds continue to bug him for my whereabouts. They’re hoping for an exclusive. Hard to believe it happened over a year ago.”

“The public still thinks you’re guilty.”

“Condemned without a trial. God, Ash, I hate this whole mess.” Both girls fell silent, each lost in their thoughts.

Ashley lifted her head and tittered. “Do you remember when we were in our late teens and we’d play ‘I spy’?”

The rejoining laughter came easily. “I do! Dad would get so mad because once we started, we couldn’t quit, and we’d laugh so hard.”

“One of us would start whenever we were in a crowded situation and list the attributes of a true hunk. The last characteristic named became the one the other of us had to find in a different man.”

Lilah threw back her head and wiggled her eyebrows. “And sometimes we’d find hotdogs and sometimes filet mignon.”

“But if one of us happened to find a man in uniform…”

 “The other had to find a way to meet the man, be he hotdog or filet mignon.”

“We got ourselves into so many pickles back then.”

“Yes we did,” Lilah wiped tears from her eyes.

“I spy.”

“What?” Lilah looked about the room, expecting a man to materialize.

“Well, maybe I should have said, I spied.” Ashley winked. “I saw the most gorgeous, drop dead, GQ-material man at the airport. He had dark, raven hair so thick I just wanted to run my fingers through it. And his eyes – the most striking blue I’ve ever seen on a man. Well built without being overdone. High cheekbones, clean-shaven with a square jaw. But I’m saving the best for last; he wore a uniform.”

“Military?”

“Nope. He was our pilot.” She took a sip of the fruity wine. “I’m telling you. That man can fly me anywhere, and land on top to boot.”

Lilah smiled a dreamy smile, thinking of her latest art subject. “Sounds like you’re already half in love.”

“Not my type. Nope, this one’s for you.”

“But you just said…”