DEAD CERTAIN Page 11

  He'd been thinking of a world where Savannah Tallfeather no longer existed, where her heart would no longer beat, and it had frightened him.

  It also frightened him just a little bit how much he wanted to be a part of her life, how jealous he was of a man named Jimmy who had died a watery death far before his time.

  Amazing, really, how in the brief period he'd known her he felt so connected to her. At first he'd thought it was because they'd both shared the same experiences, the same grief because of the crimes that had shaken up their worlds.

  He'd believed that this connection had created a sort of false intimacy between them. But with each moment that he spent with her, he realized there was absolutely nothing false about it.

  Something about her resonated inside him, touched him as no woman ever had before. He wanted to see her happy. He wanted to see the darkness in her eyes dissipate. He wanted to be around when she rediscovered that life had possibilities.

  It was just before five when she called, and he sat up straighter in his chair at the sound of her sweet, familiar voice.

  "I heard you had a rough night," he said.

  "How did you hear? It didn't make the morning papers."

  "Scott."

  "Ah, the mouth of Oklahoma," she said dryly.

  "Cut him some slack," Riley said with a chuckle. "He means well."

  "I only have a minute to talk. I've got to get back to the station, but I was wondering if you'd like to come to a birthday party tomorrow? My niece, Maggie, is turning six and despite all that's going on, Breanna is throwing her a little party."

  He was both surprised and thrilled by her invitation. "Sure, I'd love to join you. Just let me know where and when." He quickly jotted down the address and the time she gave him.

  "I have to warn you," she said. "I intend to ply you with cake and ice cream, then ask a favor of you."

  "You don't have to ply me with anything. If you need a favor, just ask me."

  "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow. I really don't have time now. I'm running in a hundred different directions with this new murder case. I'll see you tomorrow, Riley." Before he could say anything else the line went dead.

  It was ridiculous how pleased he was that she had invited him to a birthday party, especially given the fact that she'd indicated part of the reason for inviting him was to ask a favor.

  But she could have asked him a favor over the phone, or if she wanted to ask in person she could have met him in a restaurant. Instead she had invited him to a family gathering and that somehow felt like a big step forward in their relationship, such as it was.

  He was surprised by how nervous he was the next day when he pulled up in front of an attractive two-story Victorian house with a big shady tree in the front yard. He checked the address he'd written down against the numbers on the house. They matched.

  Savannah's car wasn't there yet and he wasn't sure if he should go ahead and knock on the front door or not. There were several other cars in the driveway, but he decided to sit and wait for Savannah's arrival.

  A gaily-wrapped package sat on the passenger seat. He'd stopped in a toy store earlier in the day and had instantly been overwhelmed by the choices presented to him. Gadgets and gizmos, games and craft kits, it seemed the choices were endless.

  He'd decided a doll would be appropriate for a six-year-old girl. But even then the selection was huge. There were dolls that sang and dolls that danced. There were dolls that swam and roller-skated and discoed and said prayers. He'd finally settled on a sweet-faced baby doll that did nothing.

  From the time she'd called him the day before until now, he'd wondered what kind of favor she could possibly want from him. Maybe she and Clay wanted to go through his parents' house again? If that were the case, of course he'd allow them access.

  He grabbed his gift and got out of the car as Savannah pulled in behind him and parked. His heart gave a little jump as she got out of the car, looking as cool and fresh as a stick of spearmint in a pastel-green sundress.

  She carried a smaller gift in her hand and immediately pointed to the one he carried. "You didn't have to do that," she exclaimed.

  "Of course I did," he replied. "I can't show up at a little girl's birthday party without a present. It would be positively un-American."

  She smiled and again his heart did a little flip-flop in his chest. It wasn't the full, joyous smile he longed to see from her, but it was enough for the moment.

  "How's Happy adjusting to life with a cop?" he asked as they headed toward the front door.

  "Fine. She's already shredded two pairs of my panty hose and turned over a plant, so I've placed her under house arrest. She's also won my heart completely."

  "I claim no responsibility for the damage wrought by my gift to you," he said.

  Again she smiled. "I don't expect you to." Her smile faded as they reached the door. "Riley, this might be a little difficult … the party. It's the first gathering we've ever had where Mom and Dad aren't there."

  "Hopefully it will be the last without them."

  "I hope so," she said fervently. "And thanks for coming today." She hesitated a moment. "I didn't really want to come alone."

  "I'm honored to be here."

  She nodded, then knocked on the door. A pretty little girl with long brown hair and beautiful gray eyes opened the door. With a squeal of delight, she launched herself into Savannah's arms. "Aunt Savannah, I'm so glad you came to my party."

  "I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Savannah exclaimed as she hugged the little girl. "And I brought a friend with me to your party. His name is Riley."

  "Hi, Maggie," Riley said.

  "Hi." She gazed at him with the open curiosity of a child. "Are you my Aunt Savannah's boyfriend?"

  Savannah coughed in surprise, and Riley rocked back on his heels. "Well, let's see, I'm her friend and I'm a boy, so I guess I could be considered a boyfriend."

  "That's nice," Maggie said, and at the same time Breanna appeared behind her daughter.

  "Hi." She smiled warmly at her sister, then turned her smile on Riley. "You must be Riley. My sister has told me all about you. Please … come in.

  As Riley followed the women inside, he wondered what Savannah had told her sister about him. Had she merely mentioned that he was a fellow victim of a crime or had she told him that that she liked him … that they had shared a soul-searing kiss? Did sisters exchange information like that?

  The backyard was filled with squealing children and adults huddled in groups as if in defense of their offspring. Brightly colored balloon bouquets were tied to chairs and the picnic table held a huge cake decorated with white and pink icing and sugar candies in a variety of shapes.

  Savannah led him to a group of people and introduced him to Adam, her brother-in-law, the infamous Uncle Sammy, and several other men who were apparently friends of the family.

  It was an hour into the party before Riley began to successfully put faces to names.

  As the children played games, the adults visited with one another. The talk was fairly benign … the weather, a new movie playing at the one theater in town, local politics. Riley spent much of his time watching Savannah.

  He liked watching her interact with her sister. It was obvious the two were close and it was also obvious Savannah adored her niece.

  Sammy James proved to be entertaining, regaling Riley with tales of travel and women and fortunes made and lost. He seemed bigger than life, devoted to his brother and sister-in-law and just a bit too slick for Riley.

  Clay showed up late and distracted. He stayed only long enough to give Maggie his present, then left, murmuring that he was in the middle of processing the evidence from the latest murder scene.

  Riley visited a little with Jacob Kincaid, the local banker in town, then spent some time talking to an older policeman named Charlie Smitherspoon. Charlie seemed genuinely upset by what had happened to the James family, but had few kind words to say about Thomas James.

&nb
sp; "I ran against him for chief of police years ago, but he had it easy. He got all the Irish Catholics in town to vote for him, and his wife got all the Injuns to vote for him, too. I didn't have a chance."

  Riley's blood heated but before he could comment to the man, Savannah touched his arm and motioned him to join her away from the crowd. She held two paper plates with a generous slice of cake on each.

  "Have you checked out that man's alibi for the night your father was hurt?" he asked as be took one of the plates for her.

  "Why? Because he's an old, prejudiced moron? This town and the police department are full of men just like him. They think we Native Americans should go back to the reservation and sell beads and drink whiskey."

  He looked at her in amazement. "How do you work with people who think like that?"

  "I mostly ignore them." She gestured toward a pair of lawn chairs and they sat. "It's really not so bad. It's mostly the old-timers who are the most prejudiced. The younger guys don't have the same problems."

  "Well, old Charlie there definitely seems to have a problem with your father."

  "Charlie has never hidden the fact that he and my father didn't get along. Besides, if Charlie is responsible for what happened to my parents, then we have to consider that he's responsible for what happened to yours." She paused a moment and took a bite of her cake, leaving behind a tiny smudge of white frosting right next to her luscious upper lip.

  Riley wanted to lean forward and clean it off with his mouth, swirl his tongue across her upper lip. He could almost taste the sugary sweetness coupled with the fiery heat of her mouth.

  He'd been on a slow simmer all day where she was concerned. Watching her in that mint-colored sundress that exposed the length of her long, shapely legs and emphasized her slender waist and rounded breasts had stirred an undeniable desire in him.

  He was like an adolescent, mortified more than once in the afternoon to find his body reacting to his wayward thoughts.

  He focused his attention toward the children, who were playing a game of pin the tail on the donkey under the supervision of Breanna and Adam. "Thanks for inviting me here, Savannah," he said. "Birthday parties are always fun."

  "When is your birthday, Riley?"

  "September twenty-second." She frowned thoughtfully. "What … what's wrong?"

  "I was just thinking. You mentioned that you have no family since your parents … since that night. So, who celebrates your birthday with you?"

  That she would even think of such a thing touched him deeply. "You know, you get to be a certain age and it's just another day. Your niece is a cutie," he said to change the subject.

  She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes, she is. She gave us quite a scare a couple of months ago."

  He looked back at her. "How so?"

  "You know Breanna works vice, and usually on the weekends she works a prostitution detail. One of the men she had arrested for solicitation kidnapped Maggie. Thankfully we got her back quickly, safe and sound, and the perp is facing lots of time in prison."

  "Your family has definitely been through the wringer."

  She nodded, her eyes darkening. "And I hope both of my parents are at the next family gathering. Just like I hope we find your mother alive and well."

  "Have you decided that you definitely think the same person is responsible for what happened to my family and what happened to yours? Did Clay find something to tie the two together?" He tried to focus on the conversation as she took another bite of her cake and found the errant smudge with the tip of her tongue.

  "No, he hasn't finished with his tests to conclude that the two scenes are connected by forensic evidence. But, working this new murder scene made a thought come into my head. We're all hoping that Greg Maxwell and Sam McClane were killed by the same person, a person with a specific motive in mind, because if these were two random killings, it's a whole different ball game."

  "You mean a serial killer." He took a bite of his cake to distract him from his intense desire to kiss her.

  She nodded. "And thinking about a serial killer made me think about what happened to us." She set her cake down on her lap and gazed at him, her pretty brown eyes somber. "We know what happened at my parents' house and we know what happened at your parents' house two years ago. What we don't know is if these are the only two crimes like this."

  All other thoughts fled from his brain as he realized the implication of her words. More? Was it possible there were more families where the fathers had been hurt or killed and the mothers had vanished?

  He set his paper plate down, his appetite gone. "That's a horrible thought," he said as he pulled his chair closer to hers.

  "I know." She rubbed the center of her forehead, her shoulders slumping slightly. "The problem is we don't have a computer geared to make the search easy, and it's going to require a major time commitment to find out, one that I can't make right now with this new murder on my plate."

  "And that's where I come in," he said.

  She frowned. "I hate to even ask, but if you have a computer and could do a little research … maybe make some phone calls."

  "Why do you hate to ask?" He reached out and took her hand, finding it impossible not to touch her in some way. "We're in this together, Savannah, and I'll do whatever I can to help you find the people responsible."

  For a moment he thought she was going to pull her hand away, but instead she twined her fingers with his and squeezed, and in that instant Riley knew that he was falling in love with Savannah Tallfeather.

  * * *

  "Tahlequah, Muskogee, Locust Grove…"

  Savannah fought a rambunctious Happy as she tried to scribble down the names of cities and towns Riley reeled off.

  "Wait a minute … what was that last one?" she asked, and squeezed the phone receiver tighter against her ear.

  It was late, after eleven, and Savannah was in bed, papers strewn everywhere around her. The phone calls from Riley had become a ritual for the past three nights, ever since she'd told him what she needed from him at the birthday party.

  While she spent her days interviewing Sam McClane's family and friends and revisiting the Greg Maxwell files, he surfed the Internet, looking for crimes that were similar in nature to theirs.

  Each night he called her with the names of the cities he'd checked, either through newspaper searches or by phone calls to the various police departments. So far their search had yielded nothing.

  "That's it for today," he said.

  Savannah set her pen down and relaxed against the pillows, fighting the bone-deep exhaustion that had become so familiar.

  "So, how was your day?" he asked.

  This was the part of their nightly conversations she'd come to anticipate the most … when they shared the details, often mundane details, of their day. There was something nice about having this just-before-she-fell-asleep contact with another caring human being.

  "Frustrating," she replied. "The problem with a small town is there are too many links between victims. We have one barber, so Sam and Greg got their hair cut at the same place. Jacob Kincaid has the only bank in town so the two men banked at the same establishment … and so on … and so on." She snatched her pen from Happy's paws. "How about you? Did you have a good day?"

  "Yeah, actually I did. Two families went to contract on two of my homes. Lillian brought blueberry muffins this morning instead of bran, and the last person I'm talking to before I go to sleep is you. Life is good."

  A pleasant warmth washed over her at his words. She wondered if, like her, he was in bed. Was he naked beneath the sheets? A vision unfolded in her head, a vision of his tanned body against white sheets. As the warmth of her body intensified, she imagined she could smell him, that provocative fresh male scent.

  "Savannah … did you fall asleep on me?" His deep voice vanquished the vision.

  "No … I'm here. I'm glad you had a good day."

  "What are your plans for tomorrow? It's your day off, isn't
it?"

  "Yes, but I think I'm going to go ahead and work. If I stall on the murder investigations, I can always do a little investigating on my parents' case."

  "Has Glen okayed that?"

  "He's given me permission to see the reports being generated, but I'm not to actively pursue the case." She tried to stifle a noisy yawn, but was unsuccessful.

  "You're exhausted. Why don't you just take the day off tomorrow and give yourself a break?"

  She didn't want downtime. She needed to keep going … pushing … searching. She needed activity. She didn't want time to think because lately when she did take a moment to think, her thoughts were as troubling as the events that had shaken up her life.

  "I'll tell you what," he continued before she had a chance to reply. "Be ready at noon tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

  She started to protest, then changed her mind. "Okay … but, be ready for what?"

  "Be ready for anything. I'll see you at noon." He clicked off, leaving Savannah with a rush of sweet anticipation that she refused to even try to analyze.

  She slept indecently late the next morning, waking only when Happy batted her in the head and mewled plaintively for breakfast.

  At noon she stood in her living room looking out the front window, watching for Riley's arrival. The thoughts she'd been running away from for the past week came back in a rush to haunt her.

  She liked Riley. She liked spending time with him. She liked the way his skin crinkled around his eyes when he smiled, when he laughed.

  She walked over to the coffee table that held an array of photos. Her gaze lingered on one in particular. It was of Jimmy, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, and die fur of a parka framing his face.

  She'd taken the picture on a wintry day just before his death. He'd protested that he looked like a polar bear in his jacket, but she insisted on taking the picture anyway. It had been the last photo she'd taken of him.

  A wave of grief washed over her and she embraced it like a warm, familiar shawl. Unlike the emotions Riley stirred in her, this emotion was oddly comforting.