Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (23 page)

“I'm Laurel Adams, and this is my daughter, Caroline,” the woman said.

A soft flush of color crept across high cheekbones as she no doubt realized that the girl had already introduced herself. At least now the relationship between the pair was clarified.

Rubbing her hands together, Caroline took off for a spot near the hearth. The girl sank into an easy chair and extended her toes toward the fire.

“Way cool that you're out here in the middle of nowhere,” she said. “I pictured Mom and me as popsicles in a ditch or pancakes over the edge of a cliff.” She darted David a half smile.

He grinned back, and the tension under his breastbone eased. He could like this kid. Of course, she might not be so friendly with him when her mother informed her who he was.

A stiff smile tipped the corners of Laurel's lips. “Thank you for taking us in, Mr. Greene.”

Like he had an option? But then, since she assumed him a killer, she probably thought he was fully capable of slamming the door in their faces.

Suppressing an inner sigh, David took hold of Laurel's jacket, his direct stare challenging her to release the garment. She let it go and backed away, gaze darting between her daughter and him. He headed for the coat closet next to the entrance to the kitchen. Receding footfalls said that his lovely, frightened guest had scurried for the hearth.

He hung their coats, then swiveled to find Laurel seated in a chair beside her daughter. Her focus was on him. Questions shouted from her expression. He could imagine what they might be. “Did you kill your girlfriend?” probably topped the list. Most folks couldn't bring themselves to be so blunt as to ask the question directly, but then, most people weren't snowed in with him.

“Our cell phones don't have service here,” she said. “Would you have a landline so we can let people know where we are?”

An innocuous question, if a person ignored the sub-text of fear.

He shook his head. “No landline. When I come to the mountains, I'm not big on communicating with the outside world.”

Her lips flattened, then she attempted another smile that only succeeded in becoming an anxious grimace. “How about internet service? We could instant message or email or—”

He shook his head. “I have a CB radio. I can give a holler to the authorities in Estes Park as to your whereabouts, and they can communicate with your husband or anyone you'd like.”

“It's just Mom and me.” Caroline waved a breezy hand. “Has been for a long ti—”

The pointed clearing of her mother's throat cut the girl's words short, but David got the picture. Or at least a hint. The specific reason for the absent dad/husband remained a mystery.

“You won't be going anywhere soon anyway,” he said. “This storm is anticipated to last through the night, and it'll be longer than that before the roads are cleared. Why don't we take the chill off over a cup of coffee? Or cocoa or tea, if you prefer.”

“Tea would be awesome.” Caroline threw a grin over her shoulder. “Do you have anything fruity and spicy? Sniffing the steam jazzes my sinuses.”

A chuckle spurted from David even as the girl's mother darted her daughter one of those Mom looks.

“Caroline, we can't expect our host to wait on us.”

The girl's expression flattened. “But—”

“I offered, Ms. Adams,” David said.

“Yeah, he offered.” Caroline's infectious grin sparkled forth.

David tendered a slight smile in return. “Tea it is, then. If you're looking for something to do, help yourself to a book or a board game.” He waved toward the floor-to-ceiling set of shelves built into the opposite wall.

“Thanks, Mr. Greene.” The girl bounced to her feet. “I know my mom's bummed about missing her speaking gig, but we might as well make the best of being snowed in. Right?”

“You're a public speaker, Ms. Adams?”

His question jerked Laurel's focus away from her daughter, and her gaze met his. A spark lit the brown depths. “I travel quite a bit, speaking to groups about grief, loss and single parenthood.”

“Yeah, and she's even got a reputation for being funny. Can you figure that?” Caroline giggled as she drifted toward the laden bookshelf.

“Really?” David raised his eyebrows.

Color rose in Laurel's face.

He swallowed a smile. Whether or not her speeches were funny, the subject matter was still serious. Raising a kid alone was no laughing matter. Not that he'd know about it firsthand, but the mere thought gave him the willies.

Laurel's chin lifted, and she rose in a fluid motion that dripped elegant dignity. David caught his breath. His mother was the only other woman he'd known to command a room so completely with a simple action. An ache throbbed deep in his chest. After all these years, he still missed Mom. Always would. This woman had his mother's air of confident grace, though an unfortunate pinch of pride stiffened her spine.

Laurel wandered toward the bookshelf in Caroline's wake. “Several years back, a few partners and I started a nonprofit organization called Single Parents Coalition. Have you heard of it?”

“Can't say that I have, but it sounds like a needed service.”

“Oh, it is!” Her whole face softened and lit, and David's heart went kabump for reasons he couldn't entirely explain. Perhaps he was just responding to her passion for her vocation.

“I'll get the tea.” He faded into the small but complete kitchen, and got busy at the single-cup brewer.

He shouldn't let himself be too interested in his uninvited guests. There was no point in getting friendly with these people. The cloud of suspicion over his head nullified any prospect of warmth or ease between them.

Too bad even
he
didn't know for sure what happened three years ago. He had no recollection beyond a night of partying that ended with him passing out—normal in those days.

What wasn't usual? Waking up to the cold snap of handcuffs around his wrists, the reading of rights snarled from an icy-faced detective and the chilling sight of his girlfriend—a woman he'd planned to make his fiancée—lying lifeless by his side, strangled to death with her own scarf.

Sometime during his blackout had he attacked Alicia? That was the question he'd hoped to answer during this annual time of seclusion and crying out to God to release his memories. Maybe he'd get a breakthrough this time. Even if he discovered the worst about himself, at least he would
know.
The truth would bring a form of peace. It would be a relief to own up and take his punishment.

Now he was stuck with these people invading his space and his chance for self-reflection was lost. In its place, he got the judgment of strangers. Couldn't they at least offer him the benefit of the doubt? But why should they? He didn't even know if he should offer
himself
that much grace. Yet what no one seemed to understand was that as long as suspicion of murder hung over his head, rejection and isolation ensured he was serving a life sentence in Solitary.

The tune of “Chopsticks” from the baby grand dragged David from his mulligrubs. He flashed a wry smile toward the fresh lemon he was slicing into wedges. Caroline, no doubt. He added the dish of lemon to the tea tray and headed with it toward his guests.

“Honey, you haven't asked permission to touch our host's piano.”

The soft-voiced rebuke from Laurel met his ears as he entered the living room.

“It's all right,” he said, taming his grin.

Caroline whirled from the piano, ponytail flipping and color in her cheeks. “I'm sorry, Mr. Greene.”

“No problem.” He set the tray on the small dining table in front of Laurel. “Feel free to do the honors.” He motioned toward the steaming teapot and the empty cups.

If he didn't know better, he might think a smile had flickered across Laurel's face. She poured the tea with quiet dignity.

“Thank you, Mr. Greene.” She handed him a cup, her gaze frank and open. “You've been very gracious to a couple of strangers bounding in on you.”

David barely stopped his jaw from sagging as he accepted the offering—both the tea and the slight thaw in attitude.

“Call me David, please. When you say Mr. Greene I feel like you're talking to my father, and if you shorten it to Dave I'll think I've gone back to grade school.”

“David, then. But you—” Laurel wagged a finger at her daughter “—should refer to him as Mr. Greene. It's basic respect, like the way you address your teachers at school.”

“Gotcha, Mom.” Caroline accepted her cup and brought it to her nose. “Mmmm. This stuff smells great! Thanks, Mr. Greene.” Her enthusiasm was followed by a distinct slurp.

A chuckle escaped David's throat, and Laurel lifted her cup to hide what looked like a suspicious twitch of the lips. Small talk occupied the next minutes, but at last David set his cup down and stood.

“I can fire up that CB radio now. It might take me a few minutes to tune it in to the right frequency. I've almost never used the gadget.”

Laurel rose. “Yes, please, that would be great. Let me know when I can speak to someone. In the meantime, I'd like to step outside and bring in our luggage. It would be so good to freshen up a little.”

“I wouldn't feel right leaving you to go out in the storm.” He moved toward the coat closet and grabbed his outdoor gear. “I'll get the bags if you give me your keys. We can do the radio after your things are inside.”

“You've done enough for us, Mr. Greene. I'll handle it.”

Stubborn woman. His mom had been, too, but in her the trait hadn't irritated him. “We'll do it together, then.” If he could take back the bite in his tone he would.

Posture stiff, Laurel took her coat from him. He resisted the impulse to hold the garment while she shrugged into it. Under current circumstances, the common courtesy ingrained into him by his upbringing might feel like an invasion of her space. He put on his jacket, hat, boots and insulated mittens, but refrained from commenting about the wet loafers on his guest's feet.

“I'll set up a game of Scrabble while you get the bags,” Caroline said.

Tugging on thin gloves, Laurel nodded at her daughter and led the way to the door. David pulled it open for her. At least he could do that much.

Snow particles stung his cheeks, and icy air washed David's face as he forged onto the porch after Laurel. He followed close on her heels as she eased down the steps. As she reached the ground, a drift swallowed her legs to the knees. He shook his head. She should have unbent enough to let him do this for her.

Frowning, he slogged after her toward the dark bulk of the car. The wind had already driven snowdrifts up to the bumpers. At last they reached the car's trunk. Laurel fished a set of keys out of her coat pocket and pressed a button. The trunk lid sprang open, blocking the wind. David gratefully inhaled a long breath free of ice particles.

Laurel's scream froze the oxygen in his chest. The car keys dropped from his guest's lax fingers. David caught the keychain, then followed the line of her gaze into the trunk. There were suitcases, all right. But something was sprawled atop them. Or rather someone. The fact that this person was no longer among the living was clear in the frozen stare and facial expression locked into an unnatural contortion.

Bitter bile stung the back of David's throat. He'd seen the body of a murder victim before—exactly three years ago to this day. At least no one could claim he'd killed
this
woman.

The same couldn't be said of his guests.

TWO

H
ow could this be? Laurel blinked and shook her head, but the corpse draped across her luggage didn't disappear. And Laurel knew the woman. Did she ever!

How did the body of Melissa Eldon—Caroline's detested biology teacher—wind up in her car trunk? Laurel's pulse roared in her ears. How did the woman die? No noticeable injuries sprang to Laurel's attention.

And where did Ms. Eldon meet her end? Absurd to believe she crawled into the trunk of her own free will and expired. No restraints tethered the splayed body so she must have been dead before someone dumped her remains in the trunk—
after
Laurel stowed their bags last evening and
before
she and Caroline left town. The thuds and thumps from the trunk when they had nearly run off the road took on horrific significance. Nausea churned her stomach.

Think, Laurel. Think logically.

Other than herself, only Caroline would have had access to the car keys and the trunk remote control. She kept a spare set on top of the refrigerator in the kitchen. No! Laurel would never believe her daughter was responsible.

But what if the law didn't see it that way? Blackness edged her vision, and she swayed.

A firm hand caught her elbow. Gasping, she gazed up into eyes as gray and piercing as driven rain. Laurel went still. If only this man were someone she knew and trusted. Strong arms around her might never be more welcome. She pulled away and stiffened her spine.

“Do you know who this is?” he asked.

Laurel didn't answer. Her voice had lost the ability to respond. David tugged off one of his gloves, leaned into the open trunk and touched the woman's throat with a pair of fingers.

By an act of will, Laurel unlocked her lips. “Any pulse?” She already knew the answer, but she had to ask.

“Not a flicker.” David straightened with a grimace. “You're out of luck on your suitcases. We'd better not disturb anything until the authorities get here.”

“This is so awful! That poor woman!”

“We may as well sort out our thoughts inside where it's warm.” His hand pressed gently against her shoulder. With the other hand he slammed the trunk closed on the grizzly vision. “We'll have to fire up that CB radio immediately.”

“Right.” The weak word was swallowed by the wind.

The journey back to the house passed in a blur. The next thing she knew, David was helping her out of her coat and urging her to remove her snow-cased shoes. Her toes tingled and stung, but nothing compared to the pins and needles in the pit of her stomach.

“I've got the game ready, Mom.”

Caroline's cheerful announcement wrung Laurel's heart. How could she tell her daughter what they'd discovered outside? Laurel's gaze slid toward David, making a soundless plea for...what? Guidance? Moral support? Or was she hoping for a laugh and an assurance that their gruesome find had been a practical joke? If only!

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You may as well tell her. The police will be involved soon enough, and there will be questions for all of us.”

“Tell me what?” Caroline's brows drew together as she stood up. “Police? What's going on?”

Laurel drew in a shaky breath. “Let's have a seat on the sofa.” She stepped toward her daughter, a hand extended.

Caroline backed away. “Stop it! You're scaring me.”

“Listen to your mom, young lady,” David said. “This is too important for you to do anything but tune in with both ears.”

The teenager gaped, gaze cutting toward their host.

“Please,” Laurel said.

Something deflated on the inside of Caroline, and she shuffled to the sofa and plopped down. Laurel perched beside her daughter.

“There is no gentle way to break this news.” If only her whisper-soft tone could perform the impossible anyway. “We—uh, Mr. Greene and I—made a shocking discovery.” Her hands fisted around the fabric of her pants legs. “Your teacher—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Your biology teacher is dead.”

Caroline gaped. “That's terrible! How did you find out— Ohhhh!” Her expression lightened. “You must have gotten cell service out there and someone called you. Did you tell them where we are?”

“No, honey. No one called me. I know she's dead because I saw her with my own eyes.” Laurel brushed her fingertips against her daughter's cheek. “Your teacher's body was lying across our luggage.”

Caroline's face went red and then drained stark white.

“Yes, it's a terrible thing, sweetheart. Even if you didn't like Ms. Eldon, you'd never wish something like this to happen to her.”

“What's going on? How did she die?” Caroline's eyes pleaded with her mother to provide answers that would make sense of the incomprehensible.

Laurel spread her hands. “We're mystified. I didn't see any marks on the body, did you?”

She looked toward David. He shook his head. At least she wasn't so rattled she'd overlooked something obvious.

“How did she get into our car?” Caroline burst out. “I don't understand.”

“None of us do.” David's voice rang strong. “That's for law enforcement to figure out. I'd better go raise them on the radio.”

“This is for real?” Caroline's voice went shrill.

Laurel nodded. “I'm afraid so, sweetie.” If she looked half as horrified as her daughter, they were truly a miserable pair.

“Oh, Mo-o-om!”

Caroline threw herself into Laurel's arms. If only she could absorb some of the shock for her little girl, but there was more than enough of that to go around.

Over her daughter's shoulder, she glimpsed David's expression as he turned away from them and left the room. Compassion? Yes, a strong dose of that. Confusion? Who could blame him? Suspicion? No, surely not!

But why not? He didn't know them any better than they knew him, and she had been quick enough to draw conclusions about him the moment she recognized him. What irony for the shoe to suddenly find itself on the other foot! She didn't like it, but what David Greene thought was the least of their worries. They had a reprieve until the storm abated and the authorities arrived, but then she and her daughter would find themselves the focus of a murder investigation.

She could almost feel sympathy for what David had gone through. Almost. He could well be guilty, but at least she knew her own innocence and Caroline's—didn't she?

Laurel gazed into the teenager's tear-wet face. She wiped at the tears with her thumbs. Caroline might be going through a rough patch emotionally, but she'd seen no signs of potential to do this kind of harm. Deep down, her girl was still her sweet girl.

“It'll be all right, honey.”

“You always tell me that.”

“Haven't things always worked out?”

“They didn't work out so well for Ms. Eldon.”

“I'm sorry for what happened to your teacher, but she's not my main concern. You are. Always and forever.”

The ghost of a smile trembled forth. “That's sappy, Mom, but right now, I don't care. What are the cops going to say? They're going to think we killed her, aren't they.”

The last sentence was more of a statement than a question. Laurel couldn't fault her daughter's intelligence. “I assume we'll be questioned, and they'll have to investigate us, but we're innocent. They'll discover that soon enough.”

“Ri-i-ight! Like they exonerated Mr. Greene.”

Laurel's jaw dropped. “You know who he is?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Sure. I was in grade school when all that stuff happened, but I don't live in a bubble. We talked about the weird case last year in our Social Studies unit on criminal justice. Even watched a recorded news segment. I have to say, Mr. Greene looks a lot cuter now than he did when he was being dogged by reporters.”

“I would never have guessed you recognized him,” Laurel said. “You didn't act nervous to meet him.”

“I'll let you hog the Oscar for uptight performance. I just reminded myself straight off that there must be a reason why the guy wasn't indicted.” Caroline lifted a forestalling hand. “I know. I know. Bad people get away with things all the time. But Mr. Greene seems like a good guy. You have to admit that sometimes good people get accused of bad things.”

Laurel spurted a chuckle. “I think you've overheard too many of my phone conversations with colleagues from work. But please remember, sweetheart, that I'm a mama bear dedicated to protecting you. I've also had a little more life experience, so pardon me for being skeptical about charming exteriors.”

Caroline leaned close. “You know what I think?”

“Hmm. Something about the tone of that question makes me wonder if I want to hear it.”

“I think you can handle charming without wigging out, but rich
and
charming pushes all your buttons. Throw in a little suspicion of violent behavior, and the guy is presumed guilty until proven innocent.”

The air stalled in Laurel's lungs. What would Caroline know about the terrors of Laurel's brief marriage to her father? She'd barely been three years old when he ditched them for a more compliant wife. Good riddance, as far as she was concerned. But since then, for Caroline's sake, Laurel had been careful to keep any mention of the man brief and honest, but as kind as possible. Well, at least not overly hostile. Had Caroline been reading between the lines all these years?

The teenager clapped her hands and laughed more heartily than Laurel had heard her in months. “You should see your face, Mom. The psychologist's daughter strikes again!”

The sound of footfalls entering the room stopped the rebuttal on Laurel's tongue. Caroline's head turned in unison with hers toward their host.

David regarded them soberly. “The sheriff and the coroner will be here as soon as the storm lets up.”

The smile melted from Caroline's face, and Laurel shivered as if he had dashed her with a bucket of snow. For Melissa Eldon the worst had already happened. For her and Caroline, the worst might be about to begin.

* * *

David ripped at the bunch of romaine lettuce as if he could rend truth out of it by force. Refusing assistance from his guests, he'd retired to the kitchen to prepare a supper no one might have an appetite to eat—and to gather his thoughts. He'd left mother and daughter in the main room playing a listless game of Scrabble.

How legit were those two? If he'd ever seen pure horror on anyone's face, he saw it on Laurel's when they uncovered the dead woman in her trunk. After they came inside, Caroline's stunned reaction was as believable as her mother's. Then he left the room for a few minutes to place that radio call and came back to find them laughing—well, Caroline anyway. Laurel's expression had been confounded as a coyote staring down a rabbit hole.

Were these a pair of stellar actors, or were they as innocent as they seemed? Laurel hadn't done well at hiding her feelings from the moment he opened his front door to them, so he'd be surprised if she was that good at pretending. On the other hand, from what he'd overheard of their discussion about him, Caroline had also recognized his face and hadn't batted an eyelash. If she easily masked surprise, could she fake it, as well?

He attacked a tomato with a knife.

His brief observation of the body, clad in button-down blouse and sleek pants, revealed Ms. Eldon as tall, blonde, full-figured and leggy. Caroline was a snip of a girl. The picture of her lugging that body into the garage from wherever and lifting the corpse into the trunk simply did not compute.

David's knife halted halfway through a downstroke into the meat of the tomato.

Unless little Caroline had an accomplice—like her too-attractive-for-his-own-good mother. They were both petite, but together they could have managed it.

Maybe he was on to something. Laurel
had
protested him joining her to collect the luggage. Maybe they were planning to ditch the corpse down one of the ravines along the route, but the snowstorm scuttled their best-laid intentions.

But then he came back to that look on Laurel's face as she stared into the trunk. He couldn't quite buy a put-on when the response was so spontaneous. Besides, if she knew the body was there, she could have been more forceful in her refusal of his help. Why did Laurel even bring up the luggage if the mention could lead to discovery of her grizzly secret? If she was that desperate to freshen up, she could have sneaked out there while he was warming up the radio and been back in with the bags before he knew she'd gone.

Then there was Caroline's cheerful announcement that she'd set up the game. No trace of anxiety and no attempt to stop them from retrieving the bags.

David began giving the salad the tossing of its life.

Could his unexpected guests be setting
him
up for some reason? The pieces didn't fit that scenario either. He didn't see how they could have planned for a snowstorm to dump them on his doorstep. Plus, he'd never met the dead woman, though there was something about her...His brows drew together. What had he glimpsed out there that gave him this feeling he needed to take another look?

He shrugged off the thought with a roll of the shoulders. He didn't know the woman. Never seen her before in his life, and he wasn't going to meddle with a crime scene. Period.

But his guests knew the dead woman, and it seemed that Caroline had cordially disliked her. That was a tick mark against the teenager, but he'd had plenty of teachers during his school career that he'd wanted to ship to Timbuktu in a packing crate. Of course, he never would have followed through with his desires, any more than Caroline's feelings about her teacher meant she'd killed the woman. Surely, the police investigators would realize that much.

Not that he had much faith in cops giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Come to think of it, he didn't have much confidence that they'd solve the murder. Look how they'd done on his case. Lots of crimes never came to closure and left people in a limbo of pain and distrust.