Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (26 page)

The snowplow driver had been kind enough to open up a track from his garage to the driveway so they'd been able to head out in short order after the sheriff gave them permission. But not without that grim clichéd warning to Laurel and Caroline not to leave their home city once they arrived. The sheriff had even fixed his glare on David. “Best if you stay in the area, too, until the Denver P.D. gives you the word that you're no longer wanted for questioning.”

So now he was a suspect again? Or at least “a person of interest.” How could he not be when he was connected to the murder of another woman only a few short years ago? Sure, investigation would show that he'd had no contact with the Adamses or with Ms. Eldon prior to the previous night. But would that fact be enough to take him off the suspect list?

He'd see what his lawyer had to say about the situation. Did his passengers have a lawyer? Would they have a clue who to call when they got home? Why did he care when he had so much trouble of his own? But he did. Very much. He'd enjoyed coaxing smiles from them last evening, and he didn't wish on anyone the grinding legal and media persecution he'd faced, especially during those first months after Alicia was murdered. But despite his concern, he couldn't seem to bring himself to break the silence by asking if they needed help.

They were making reasonable time, considering the ferocity of the storm they'd just weathered. The highway had been plowed, but the pavement was sufficiently rough that David kept his speed well below the limit and his focus on the road.

Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance toward the occupant of the passenger seat. Laurel sat with her head back and eyes closed in a semblance of sleep, but the clamped-tight mouth betrayed awareness. He peeked in the rearview mirror and found Caroline snuggled against the door, head nestled on the pillow he'd urged her to bring along. A slack jaw indicated genuine sleep. He could be thankful for that much.

Laurel's thoughts had to be racing. Probably chasing the tail of one what-if after another. At least she had that aborted speaking engagement off her mind. As soon as they'd driven into an area with cell service she'd called the venue to let them know she couldn't make it. The person on the other end had told her that the storm continued to rage higher in the mountains with no sign of letup, and the event had been cancelled anyway.

“Thank the Lord for small mercies,” she'd muttered and subsided against the headrest and closed her eyes.

Was she wondering what he'd really been up to last night? Or had she forgotten about the suspicious incident in light of more urgent matters with the police? If so, he'd be the one to thank the Lord for small mercies. If only he could reassure her that he hadn't done anything but look. Well, and snap a few photos of the tattoo with his phone camera. But far be it from him to be the one to bring the matter up.

“Where did you learn to play the piano so beautifully?”

Laurel had given up pretending to sleep and regarded him with solemn eyes. David drew a full breath into his lungs and smiled. This was a topic he could comfortably discuss.

“My mom. She was training to be a concert pianist until an accident badly damaged one finger and ended her chance at a career. Still, she retained enough skill to be a piano teacher, and she passed her love of music on to me.”

“You were a lucky boy, then. I hope having her dream snatched away didn't sour her on life.”

David chuckled. “Let's just say that the accident made her a very practical person. Not negative, but one to stare adversity in the face and make the best of circumstances with grace and dignity. If she'd gone on to join the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, which was her dream goal, I might not exist. She met and married my father when she returned to her hometown to rethink her life after leaving The Juilliard School.”

“Juilliard?” Caroline chimed in from the backseat. “Way cool! It must have broken her heart to give up that opportunity.”

David frowned. How hard
had
the experience been for his mom? It must have been tough, but she'd never spoken with grief about those days. Maybe she'd been over the loss by the time he came along. Or maybe his boyhood shenanigans kept her too busy to dwell on the past.

“I'm not sure about that. I mean, it was probably a big blow at the time, but I kept her pretty busy. Let's just say that I was high spirited and leave it go at that.”

Caroline giggled.

Laurel looked back at her daughter. “I had no idea you knew anything about The Juilliard School.”

A beat of silence answered, followed by a miniscule sigh. “When we were little kids, Emily and I used to fantasize about becoming ballerinas.”

“I remember.” A smile grazed Laurel's lips.

“As we got old enough to go online, we looked up schools for dance, but by then we were just joking. We'd decided we'd sing our way to fame. Juilliard was like top billing for music, dance and drama, but it was a little uptight for a pair of budding pop stars. Besides, it costs like a bazillion dollars to go there. Your mom's folks must've been loaded, Mr. Greene.”

“Caroline!” Laurel's tone was stern. “My apologies for my outspoken daughter.”

“It's okay.” David kept his tone gentle. How could he respond without wounding Caroline or offending her mother by dismissing her concern about good manners? “Mom actually came from dirt-poor stock—wrong side of the tracks even. All they owned was a little patch of farmland that no one thought was worth much at the time. She was at Juilliard on a full-ride scholarship. Maybe you think that makes the outcome all the more tragic, but I've always felt that what the world lost in a concert pianist I gained in the best mother a boy has ever had.”

“Wo-o-ow!” The word exhaled from the teenager in slow syllables. “She must really be an awesome mom.”

David's heart squeezed at the small sound from Laurel, as if she'd been struck. Caroline probably didn't even hear the low gasp.

“Yes, she was,” he said, a lump growing in his throat. “Awesome, indeed.”

“Was?” Laurel sent him a sidelong glance.

“She and my dad died in a car crash the day after I graduated from high school.” His voice emerged rather thin as he forced the words past that persistent lump. “Dad was a good guy, too. He did the best he could with the handful I turned out to be and with running the mechanic shop that kept food on the table.”

“I'm sorry to hear that your parents are gone.” Laurel's words were as soft as a gauze bandage.

Warmth spread in David's chest. He glued his attention to the road that had become dry and clear as they reached lower elevations and left the storm zone. Here, snowy patches along the landscape were the exception rather than the rule, and his dash thermometer said the temps had risen to the mid-thirties.

“If they'd been around,” he said, “maybe I wouldn't have gone so wild when I struck oil on the desert land my mom's half-Apache dad left me. The rights were private and the strike was big.” David scowled and shook his head. “Grief and major money don't mix well.”

Laurel pursed her lips then opened her mouth, but closed it and looked away.

David's heart sank. “That was probably way more than you wanted to know.”

She smiled. “No, actually, it's very interesting. You speak of that lifestyle in the past tense. Something changed?”

David wrinkled his nose and let out a wry chuckle. “Let's just say my world caved in, and in the middle of the wreckage, a friend introduced me to his Best Friend. God changed me. No credit to myself.”

“But you still don't know...” Her voice trailed away and a flush crept up her neck. She looked down and studied the fine-boned hands pressed against the sweatpants bagging around her slender frame.

“I've never made any secret that I have no memory of that last night with Alicia. You could well be riding down the highway with a guy who stole the life of another person.”

Laurel's shoulders squared and her chin lifted. “For all you know, your passengers may have done the same thing.”

“Oh, Mom, get real,” Caroline burst out. “Mr. Greene knows we didn't kill Ms. Eldon.”

“Does he?”

His face heated as her sober gaze fixed on him. What could he say? “I'm leaning toward faith in your innocence, but no, I don't know it for a fact.”

“Fair enough.” Laurel jerked a nod. “I want you to know that I believe that if you had a hand in your girlfriend's death there was no malice aforethought. I'd imagine the scenario was heat-of-the-moment, not premeditated, and not something you would be apt to do when in possession of your faculties.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck. “That's more of a vote of confidence than most people give me. Now that we've acknowledged the elephant in the room, we can go back to ignoring it because it's not going away anytime soon. Tell me about the Single Parents Coalition.”

Shadows receded from Laurel's eyes as she launched into an eloquent description of the nonprofit organization's mission and ministry. The conversation required little of him but the occasional nod or brief question. By her vivid description of the financial, social and emotional plight of many single parents—the majority of them women—and the resources her organization made available to these struggling people, David had no problem believing this woman was an engaging public speaker and a stellar fund-raiser for the cause. By the time they neared the outskirts of Denver, he was almost ready to dig out his wallet. Maybe someday he would make a substantial donation—if this current mess was ever straightened out favorably for all concerned.

A glance in the rearview mirror revealed that Caroline was catching a few more
z
's. She'd probably heard her mother's spiel a thousand times. In sleep, the teenager's features relaxed into a picture of innocence and unformed promise. The girl could easily turn out as lovely as her mother. A smile tipped the edges of David's lips, then quickly faded. If someone was messing up her young life to cover up his or her crime, he wouldn't mind a few minutes alone with that person in a locked room.

Whoa!
Where had that papa bear impulse come from?

Sure, he was prone to leap into a fray on behalf of the underdog—always had been. He'd brought home many a shiner from school to show for his impulsive protectiveness, as his parents could have attested. But he barely knew these people. Like he'd said, he didn't know for a fact that either of them was guiltless. He had to maintain his objectivity if he was going to investigate on his own.

“Where to?” he asked Laurel as cityscape began to slide past.

She provided timely directions for exits and turns, and they navigated to an upper-middle-class neighborhood of renovated historic homes in southeastern Denver. A police cruiser with bubbles whirling sat in the driveway of a rich tan-and-cream Victorian home on the corner of the block ahead. A breath hissed between his passenger's teeth.

“Your place?” he asked.

“I suppose they're executing a search warrant. They certainly worked fast.”

He didn't bother to voice the thought, but in a murder case, the authorities seldom let grass grow under their feet. One thing, though, required a word of warning.

“Don't be surprised if they've left quite a mess in their wake. They're paid to take things apart and search high and low, not clean up after themselves.”

Laurel groaned. “Just what I need. Welcome home!”

“I know how you feel.”

They exchanged glances like a pair of old buds over a shared experience. The mutual sympathy set a warm glow around David's heart as he parked the Lexus LS and opened his door to winter's nip in the air outside. Laurel stepped out, pulling the jacket she'd borrowed from him close around her. Then she stared toward her home, a slump in those graceful shoulders.

Gut heavy, David opened the back door of the SUV to retrieve his jacket from the seat, and Caroline roused from sleep.

“We're here,” he told her.

She sat up and looked around. “Oh, man, the cops made it already.”

“Your mom and I noticed the same thing.”

The girl's groan was a carbon copy of her mother's. “Here goes same song, second verse with new cops asking the same questions.”

“Laurel! Caroline!”

The call came in a Deep South drawl. David looked up to find a tall brunette in low-heeled pumps, business slacks and a tailored, knee-length coat rushing up the sidewalk toward them.

“Janice!” Laurel hurried to the woman, who opened her arms, and they shared a hug.

“I'm so glad to see you home safe,” the newcomer said, setting Laurel from her and looking her up and down.

Bundled in one of David's zippered sweatshirts, Caroline ran up to the women and collected an even bigger hug from Janice than her mother had received.

“You, too, hon,” the woman said. “I heard about the storm in the mountains and worried my head off...then this.” She flapped a hand toward the Adams home. “I'm so sorry.”

Laurel's mouth drooped, and Caroline's gaze fell to the sidewalk.

“You know then,” Laurel said.

“Know! I'm the one who called it in.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are
you
talking about? And why are you two dressed like Goodwill rejects?”

The woman took a step back with raised brows.

“That's my fault,” David said as he joined them on the sidewalk. “I didn't have anything to lend them that fit better.”

A pair of sharp green eyes assessed David, then her gaze transferred to Laurel. “You've never introduced me to this guy. A friend? Coworker? I didn't know anyone from the office accompanied you on the trip.”

“No, he's not a friend. I—I mean we just met yesterday.” Laurel's wide gaze flew from Janice to David and back again. “He's not with SPC. He's—”