Dead Certain. Carla CassidyЧитать онлайн книгу.
from a set in your parents’ closet and some of your mother’s personal items.”
Stunned. His words stunned them all. Savannah could see the shock she felt on her siblings’ faces. The implication was obvious. They believed that Rita had smashed her husband over the head, then packed her bags and run.
“Glen, you know my parents, you know what you’re thinking is impossible,” she said.
He hesitated a moment. “I know what the evidence looks like at the moment,” he replied softly.
“Then let me inside. Let me find the evidence that points to the truth,” Clay exclaimed, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“That’s exactly what I’m not going to let happen,” Glen said, his tone sharp. “Even though the three of you are officers of the law, you will have nothing to do with this investigation.” He held up a hand to still the protests that came at him from three different directions.
“Think about it. I can’t let the family members of a crime do the investigating of the case. A defense attorney would be able to rip a case to shreds under those circumstances.”
Savannah knew he was right, but that didn’t make the situation any easier to swallow. “But what about Mother’s car?” she asked suddenly. “It was there in the driveway…so how did she leave?”
“I don’t have the answers,” he said with obvious frustration. “Look, we’re only a couple of hours into this investigation. We have a lot of work ahead of us. It would help if your father could enlighten us about what happened.”
“Dad’s in a coma,” Clay said, and his voice radiated with the hollowness of a person still in shock. “According to Doc Watkins he isn’t going to be explaining anything anytime soon.”
For the first time since she’d driven up to her parents’ house a stark grief swept over Savannah. She felt almost sick to her stomach as she tried to digest what they knew so far.
The man who had held her when she’d been sick, the man who had taught her how to dance, how to shoot a gun and given her a love for law enforcement was clinging to life by a thread.
Her mother, a proud, beautiful woman who had taught her to honor her Cherokee heritage, the woman whose hands had soothed, whose laughter could light up the night, was missing.
Hold on, Daddy, she cried in her heart. Please hold on, we still need you. Where are you, Mom? What has happened to you?
“Savannah, why don’t you meet me at your folks’ place tomorrow at noon. We’ll do a walk-through then,” Glen said. “I’m putting an all points bulletin out on your mother. We need to find her. We need to talk to her. Take the next couple of days off. Your father is going to need you when he comes out of his coma, and I don’t want any of you mucking around in this investigation.”
“If he thinks I’m staying out of this, he’s crazy,” Clay said the minute Glen had left to go in search of Dr. Watkins.
“Just because we can’t investigate officially doesn’t mean we can’t investigate unofficially,” Breanna said.
“I can’t stand around here and do nothing,” Clay replied. “I’m going to make some phone calls, drive around and see if I can find Mom. Maybe she got hit in the head, too…has wandered off in a daze and doesn’t know who or where she is.”
“You know she didn’t have anything to do with Dad’s injuries,” Savannah said.
“That goes without saying,” her brother replied. He looked toward the windows. “She’s out there somewhere, and she’s in trouble. We’ve got to find her.”
He didn’t wait for any reply but strode out the door and disappeared into the night.
Savannah felt the darkness of the night closing in around her, filling her heart, filling her soul with fear. She turned back to look at her sister. Breanna reached out and grabbed her into a hug that kept the darkness from consuming her.
“Go,” Breanna said as she released her. “Go find Mom. Adam and I will stay here.”
“You’ll call me if there’s any change?” she asked.
“Of course we will,” Adam said as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
Although she was reluctant to leave, Savannah knew there was nothing she could do here. Her father was getting the care he needed.
She left the hospital through the emergency room doors and stopped in her tracks. Parked in a car in the closest parking space to the door was the handsome stranger she’d seen out at her parents’ place.
Who was he? What was he doing here? It had been odd enough to see his strange face among those of the neighbors at the house. Had he been involved in whatever had happened there? Had he come here in a compulsive, sick need to see the grief he’d caused? Was he here to see if her father had come awake and was talking?
A burst of adrenaline chased away grief as she pulled her handgun from her shoulder holster and approached the car. “Show me your hands,” she demanded to the man in the driver seat.
Startled blue eyes widened as he lifted his hands off the steering wheel. “I think there’s been some sort of mistake.” His voice was a deep baritone.
“The only mistake anyone has made around here is yours.” She pulled open the driver door. “Now, get out of the car, put your hands on the roof and spread ’em.”
Chapter 2
Riley Frazier hadn’t reached the age of thirty-four without learning when to balk and when to comply. When a woman who’d just suffered an emotional trauma pointed a gun and began to bark orders, it was definitely a good idea to comply.
He got out of his car, placed his hands on the roof and spread his legs. “There’s a wallet in my back pocket with my identification in it,” he offered.
She frisked him with a professional, light touch, beginning at his ankles. She patted up his legs, then around his waist. Only then did she pluck his wallet from his back pocket.
He remained in place, although there were a million things he wanted to say to her, things he wanted to ask her.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Frazier?” she asked.
He dropped his arms to his sides and turned to face her. In the bright illumination of the parking lot light overhead he got his first good look at her. A rivulet of pleasure swept through him.
Earlier at her parents’ house he’d been too far away to see just how beautiful she was. Long black lashes framed dark eyes. Her hair was jet-black, and the short cut emphasized high cheekbones and sensual lips.
She stared at him expectantly and he frowned, unable to remember her question to him. “I’m sorry…What do you want to know?”
“Your identification says you’re from Sycamore Ridge. What are you doing here in Cherokee Corners and what were you doing out at my parents’ ranch?”
Riley suddenly realized what it looked like…why his presence had prompted her to pull a gun and check him out. “It’s not what you think.”
“And how do you know what I think?” she returned in a cool tone as she handed him back his wallet.
“I know what I’d be thinking if I was in your place,” he replied.
“Riley!”
They both turned at the sound of the young male voice. Scott Moberly hurried toward them, and Riley thought he heard a faint groan come from Savannah.
Scott reached them, half-breathless from his run across the parking lot. “You bothering the local law enforcement, Riley?” Scott asked, a wide grin stretching across his freckled face.
Riley shrugged, and Scott turned his attention to the