DEAD CERTAIN Page 9

  Thomas closed his eyes as the doctor motioned them out of the room. Dr. Watkins led them some distance down the hallway, then turned to face them all.

  "I know you're all anxious for answers. But I have to warn you that there's a possibility you won't ever get any from Thomas. It isn't unusual for victims of severe trauma to have no memory of the incident that lands them in a hospital."

  An intense disappointment swept through Savannah, and she knew it was the same emotion every one of them were feeling. They had so hoped that when Thomas came awake answers would quickly follow.

  "That's it for tonight," Dr. Watkins continued. "I want my patient to rest. And there will be no visitors allowed tomorrow. We'll be running a full battery of tests to determine the full extent of damage and working up a rehabilitation program. You all can visit him again tomorrow evening."

  Minutes later the James siblings all sat in the empty hospital cafeteria. They were seated at one of the round tables, each with a cup of stale coffee in front of them.

  "Okay, so we know now that it's possible Dad won't be able to tell us anything about that night," Breanna said. "I think it's time we get more proactive about doing something to find Mom."

  "What do you suggest, Bree? We've done everything we can think of," Savannah replied.

  "Adam and I were talking last night and we think it might be a good idea to get some posters printed up and distributed around the county."

  "Glen already had her picture flashed on the evening news," Clay said.

  "But that was just for two nights, and the picture was only shown briefly. We need posters to keep Mom's face in front of people," Bree explained.

  "I'll see to the printing if you will help with the distribution," Adam said.

  Clay shrugged. "I guess it can't hurt." Savannah nodded her agreement.

  "Has anyone checked in at the cultural center?" Savannah asked. This was the busiest season at the tourist attraction and she wondered how they were getting along without her mother's drive, enthusiasm and organizational skills.

  "I spoke with Mary yesterday. Everything is hectic, and they miss Mom desperately, but they're functioning as best they can. I'm planning on helping out whenever possible. It would be nice if you two would step up to the plate and give them some time, as well," Bree said.

  "I'll call Mary tomorrow," Savannah said. Clay said nothing and both sisters knew he wouldn't be offering any of his time or services there.

  Clay refusing to have any part of the cultural center had been a continuous source of friction between him and his mother, and Savannah wondered if perhaps that had been what they'd fought about before her disappearance.

  In any case it didn't matter. Savannah made a mental note to herself to call and see if there was anything she could do to help with the work that was dearest to her mother's heart.

  It was agreed that they would meet the following night at Breanna and Adam's house to pick up posters for distribution.

  Exhaustion weighed heavily on Savannah as she drove home from the hospital.

  It had been more than a full day. First she'd wrestled with the Maxwell case for several hours at the station, trying to glean any clues that might have been missed, clues that might lead to a murderer. Then the emotional trauma of joining Riley in his parents' house … a house of death that still held the vestiges of a son's hopes.

  If that hadn't been enough, there had been that kiss followed by her journey to the bridge and then the phone call that her father had come out of his coma.

  The day had been a roller coaster of ups and downs, ins and outs that had left her physically and emotionally depleted.

  And still they knew nothing about what had happened to their mother.

  Sleep came quickly to her that night, but it was a sleep filled with dreams. She dreamed of the river, and in her dream she clung to the bridge support over water that foamed and splashed with a restless energy.

  Jimmy was there beneath the surface, his brown eyes pleading, his arms stretched out to her. She knew if she went to him, the worries of the world would no longer be carried in her heart. She was just about to let go, to join him in his watery grave when Riley appeared on the ground beneath her.

  "Come to me, Savannah," he said, his piercing blue eyes holding the promise of new passion, of possibility. "Forget him."

  "Silver Star, you are my woman forever and always." Jimmy's gaze held the bittersweet memories of childhood friendship, adolescent sexual awakening and adult love and commitment. "Forever and always."

  She awoke with the perspiration of conflict dampening her body. She turned on her bedside lamp and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, trying desperately to shove away the remnants of the dream.

  One thing was certain. Riley Frazier and that kiss they had shared was messing with her mind, making her think about things she shouldn't, dream about choices that shouldn't exist.

  She didn't intend to see Riley Frazier again.

  * * *

  "That looks like a love-struck man if ever I've seen one." Lillian's voice pulled Riley back to the here and now.

  He felt the heat of a blush work up his neck and wondered how long she'd been standing in his office doorway watching him stare out the window. "I just have a lot on my mind."

  "A woman. Tell me the truth, you have a woman on your mind." She smiled knowingly. "I've seen men with that expression on their faces many times before, and it's always a woman that's in his head."

  "Her name is Savannah Tallfeather," he said. And three days ago I kissed her, and that kiss was the best thing that's happened to me in two years. "She's a homicide detective over in Cherokee Corners."

  One of Lillian's brows raised. "A homicide cop? Is she working on your father's case?"

  "Yes and no." Briefly Riley explained to her the criminal connection between him and Savannah. "I went to her because I thought maybe the person responsible for her parents' crime was also responsible for mine."

  "And what have you found out?"

  Riley frowned. "Nothing conclusive. The situations are the same and her mother is missing like mine, but nothing specific to tie the two scenes together."

  "And so your interest in Savannah Tallfeather is strictly professional, so to speak?" There was a distinct twinkle in Lillian's eyes.

  "It might be a little more than that," Riley admitted after a moment of hesitation.

  "Good," Lillian exclaimed decisively. "It's about time you got a woman in your life, time you moved away from your pain and loss and looked to the future."

  "I do kook to the future," Riley protested. He gestured out the window. "That's what Riley Estates is all about."

  "That's your work future, that has nothing to do with your personal happiness. A man isn't all that he can be when he's alone, Riley. A man needs a woman, children to fulfill his complete potential."

  Riley laughed. "For heaven's sake, Lillian, I barely know the woman."

  Lillian studied him for a long moment. "Maybe so, but I haven't seen that particular spark in your eye since I've known you. Just saying her name makes your eyes light up, and if you have any sense at all, you'll pursue her with the same single-mindedness you've spent in your work."

  Minutes later, with Lillian gone from the doorway, Riley once again focused his gaze out the window. In the distance he could see the dust rising in the air from the bulldozer clearing land for a new home site, but his thoughts were on Savannah.

  In the three days since they had parted at his parents' home, he'd called her several times and left messages on her machine at work. She had not returned any of his calls.

  The kiss had been a mistake. It had been entirely inappropriate and he half wished he could take it back. But the other half of him reveled in the memory of the sweet heat of her lips, her slender curves that had momentarily melded into him, the race of her heartbeat against his own.

  He'd had no intention of kissing her when he'd pulled her into his arms, had known only a gut-wrenching fear for
her when she'd confessed about her sojourns to the bridge.

  She'd scared him half to death with her confession and he'd done the only thing he knew to do—pull her against him and hold her tight. If she hadn't looked up at him with her doe-soft eyes, he might have released her without the kiss. But the minute she'd looked at him, he'd been lost. And damn it, it had been too much, too soon.

  He'd obviously scared her. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her that he was sorry if he'd overstepped the boundaries between them. But it was difficult to apologize when he couldn't get hold of her.

  He hated to think that she was avoiding his phone calls, preferred to think that she'd simply been too busy to contact him. He'd heard from Scott that her father had come out of his coma but had been unable to remember anything about the night he'd been attacked.

  Savannah Tallfeather certainly had many more important things on her mind than him and the kiss they had shared.

  He stood and stretched, then looked at his wristwatch. It was almost five. Within ten minutes the crew would be knocking off for the day and he felt like a drive.

  "I'm out of here," he said to Lillian as he left his office. "I'll have my cell phone with me if anything should come up in the next ten or fifteen minutes."

  "I'm sure we'll be fine, boss," she assured him. "Enjoy your evening."

  "You do the same, Lillian."

  He thought he was going home, but was somehow unsurprised to find himself on the highway that would take him to Cherokee Corners.

  He just wanted to talk to her, wanted to apologize, if an apology was necessary. He didn't want to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. He just wanted her to know that he was available to be a support to her in whatever way she might need him to be. No expectations. No strings attached.

  The hour-long drive was nice. Riley felt himself unwinding from the day, putting the cares of the business behind him as he anticipated seeing Savannah again.

  An officer had answered her work phone the day before and told him that Officer Tallfeather wasn't available at the moment but was working until five that evening.

  It would be after six by the time he reached Cherokee Corners, and he was hoping he would find her at her apartment. If he didn't find her there, then he would drop in at the Redbud Bed and Breakfast and see if her cousin knew where she might be found.

  He thought of what Lillian had said … about a woman and children making a man realize his full potential. He'd thought about children once upon a time, but the problem had been no matter how hard be tried, he couldn't imagine Patsy as a mother. The first time a baby spit up on her, or grabbed one of her perfectly coiled curls, she would have had a fit.

  No, Patsy hadn't been mother material, but that didn't mean he wasn't father material. Someday, with the right woman, he'd love to have children, fill that big house of his with laughter and love. That had been his parents' dream for him, a dream he had forgotten about until now.

  It was just after six when he pulled down Main Street of Cherokee Corners. On a whim he parked his truck in front of the Pet Palace. He thought of the conversation he and Savannah had shared and the desire she'd once had to own a cat.

  I'll just take a look at what they have, he told himself as he entered the store. It would be highly presumptuous of him to actually get her a cat.

  A cacophony of sound greeted him. Birds screeched, dogs barked and little furry critters scurried around in their cages as if seeking to capture his attention and find themselves a home.

  He bypassed the hamsters, the fish and the squawking birds. He paused briefly in front of the dog cages, momentarily captivated by a white and black puppy of indeterminable parentage who shoved his food dish toward the front of the cage, then eyed Riley expectantly.

  "We've nicknamed him Munch," a female voice said from behind Riley. He turned to see an older woman with a pleasant smile. "All he wants to do is eat."

  Riley smiled. "He's cute, but I was actually interested in a cat."

  "Ah, we have two lovely Persians that just came in."

  Riley frowned. He had a feeling Savannah Tallfeather wasn't a Persian cat kind of woman. "I was thinking more like a tabby." Patsy was a Persian cat kind of woman, Savannah was definitely a tabby.

  The saleslady led him to a large cage where half a dozen kittens were playing. As he moved closer they meowed loudly, as if vying for his attention, their little paws reaching out between the cage bars.

  Again Riley wondered if this was a good thing to do or if it might just be a mistake, like the kiss might have been. Then he spied the kitten that sat on a perch at the back of the cage. So tiny—he knew it would fit in the palm of his hand—the yellow-striped tabby watched him silently.

  "The one in the back … is it sick or something?" He pointed to the little one.

  "No, she's just one of the most laid-back kittens I've ever seen."

  Exactly what Savannah needed, he thought. If he bought her a cat, maybe it would keep her off that bridge. Maybe she needed something alive and solely dependent on her.

  And if it was a mistake and she didn't want the kitty, then he'd keep her. Twenty minutes later he left the pet store with not only the kitten but everything a cat might need to live a comfortable life—food, toys and a super scooper litter box.

  He drove from the pet store to Savannah's apartment complex, pleased to see her car parked in the space in front of her apartment.

  With the kitten in the crook of his arm, he walked up to her door, surprised to find himself more nervous than he could remember being in a very long time.

  She opened the door, and any nervousness he'd momentarily suffered instantly left him. She looked beautiful, clad in a rose-colored robe and with her hair tousled as if she'd just awakened from a nap.

  "Riley!" It was obvious by the expression on her face that he was the last person she had expected to see.

  "Can we come in?" he asked.

  "We?" Her gaze shot beyond his shoulder, as if anticipating another person standing nearby.

  "We." He held out the kitten.

  "Oh, Riley, what have you done?" She opened the door to let him in, and he walked ahead of her to the living room and sat down on the sofa.

  "Look, if you aren't interested in taking her in, it's not a problem," he said hurriedly. "I just remembered you mentioning the other day that you'd always wanted a cat."

  She sat down next to him, so close he could smell the familiar scent of her, that feminine flowery fragrance that made his pulse beat just a little bit faster.

  She leaned over and took the kitten from him, and as she did, her robe gaped open slightly, exposing delicate collarbones and something silky and pink beneath the robe. "Where'd you find her?" she asked.

  "The Pet Palace."

  The kitten curled up in her lap and as she stroked the soft reddish-blond fur, a noisy purr filled the silence. She looked tired, Riley thought as she gazed down at the cat. She wore no makeup, and purple shadows dusted the skin just beneath her eyes.

  He felt like an adolescent, wondering if he should apologize for the kiss, yet dreading the idea of bringing up the subject.

  "I bought everything you'd need if you decide to keep her," he said, unable to stand the silence any longer. "All she needs is a name."

  Savannah looked up at him, her gaze radiating bewilderment. "Why did you do this, Riley? What do you want from me?"

  What did he want from her? He wasn't sure. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to kiss her again, but he couldn't very well tell her that. His gaze fell on one of the pictures of her and her husband.

  "What do I want from you?" He pointed to the photograph. "I want to see you smile like that … like you have the world by the tail, like you have nothing but happiness ahead of you."

  She stared at the picture for a long moment, and when she looked back at him her eyes were dark, almost haunted. "I don't think that's ever going to happen again," she said softly. "Riley, I…"

  He heard the prote
st begin in her words, and he quickly jumped in to interrupt her. "To be honest, Savannah, the last couple of years have been difficult for me. I've kept myself too isolated from people, and I like you. I could use a friend, and I think you could use one, too. No strings attached, no expectations … just friendship."

  He hoped as she studied his face she couldn't see how desperately he'd like to kiss her right now, right at this very moment. "Okay," she said, her voice still soft. "I'd like to be your friend—no strings attached, no expectations."

  "And my gift?" He gestured to the kitten still curled up in her lap.

  She smiled. "Is accepted with many thanks."

  "Good." Riley stood. "I'll just go get the food and toys and things from my car." Friendship, it was a start, and he had a feeling it was all she was willing to give for now.

  And he hadn't been lying. He wanted to see that smile she'd had in the photograph with her husband. But he wanted to see that same kind of joyous, loving smile directed at him.

  Yes, a friendship was a start, but he knew he would never be satisfied with just that from her.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  She'd made a conscious decision not to return his phone calls over the past three days. She told herself they really had nothing to say to each other. Clay was still processing the evidence he'd gathered at the Frazier house and none of Riley's messages indicated any urgency.

  Even though she hadn't returned any of his calls, she had to confess to herself that seeing him standing at her door had sent a wave of pleasure through her.

  As he went out to get the things he'd purchased for the kitten, she belted her robe more tightly around her, then carried the cat into the kitchen and set her on the floor so she could make a pot of coffee.

  She couldn't believe he'd bought her a kitten, and such a sweet little baby at that. She couldn't believe he'd paid that much attention to the conversation they'd had on the back deck at his parents' home. For the past year she hadn't felt as if anyone listened when she spoke.