Forgotten Legacy Page 6

  Decker sauntered out the door, and Ironcloud watched their prisoners.

  Thayne crossed to Riley. He stood so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. “I’ll go with Ironcloud. Can you take my car and meet me at the sheriff’s office?”

  She placed her hand on his chest and nodded, but her glance rested on the pitiable woman behind the bar. “I might be a few minutes. Carol’s here and she’s not looking good. I need to make certain she gets home.”

  “You sure you want to take her on?” Thayne sighed and met her gaze. “She’s not your responsibility. She couldn’t stay sober even before she discovered how broken her daughter became,” he said quietly.

  “I know, but I could have been her if I’d let the guilt of not protecting my sister take me over. When I see her like this . . .” She didn’t mention how the years she’d spent obsessed with Madison’s case had been her own type of addiction. They both knew.

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” Thayne dropped the keys in her hand and bent to kiss her. His lips lingered on hers until he finally raised his head, his gaze dark and full of promise.

  Riley shivered, her body tingling with response. Thayne made her feel things she’d thought she’d never feel. She kept waiting for the first flush to dissipate, but it didn’t. His eyes glinted with a secret laughter as if he knew what she was thinking. With one last heated gaze, he joined Ironcloud.

  After the van headed to Singing River, Riley returned inside. While Clive swept the floor, she hunkered down behind the bar next to Carol.

  The woman hadn’t moved, but the tequila bottle had drained several inches.

  Riley didn’t speak for a moment, but when it became clear Carol wasn’t interested in a conversation, Riley shifted to face her. “It wasn’t your fault, Carol. It took me a long time to accept that I wasn’t to blame. And neither are you.”

  “We both know you’re lying.” Carol tilted the bottle and took a long, slow swallow. “I twisted my daughter up so bad she’ll never get out of jail. What kind of mother does that make me?”

  “We both know the man who kidnapped her was responsible. He took her from your house in the middle of the night. He messed her up.”

  Carol lifted her bleary gaze to Riley’s. “Why don’t you blame me for what my girl did?”

  With a sigh, Riley set the bottle aside and took Carol’s hands in hers. “Because I spent fifteen years blaming myself for not alerting my parents when my sister was taken.”

  “You still do, though,” Carol said, “don’t you?”

  Riley couldn’t tell many people the truth. She squeezed Carol’s hands. “Deep inside, every time I solve a case, I hope I evened the score just a little.”

  “You’re stronger than I am.” Carol stared, almost mesmerized by the nearly empty tequila bottle. “Whatever fight I had died out years ago. I can’t even bear to visit my daughter in jail.” She lifted the bottle and tilted her head back to take another drink. “No use trying to win this one, Agent Lambert. I’m a lost cause.”

  Riley hated that Carol’s words might be true—some people couldn’t be saved. “Clive’s closing down. Can I take you home?”

  The woman blinked, eyes unfocused, her face sallow and unhealthy. She chuckled, the kind of hollow laugh that reeked of despair. “I am home. Clive lets me stay in the room above the bar. Even that drunk Ed kicked me out of our house. After twenty years together. Can you believe the drunk SOB did that?”

  “I’m sorry.” Riley couldn’t stop the wave of regret twisting her heart. When Riley’s sister had been kidnapped, it had destroyed her life, and her family. Riley could picture her father or her, or even her mother, drowning their sorrows so easily.

  Honestly, she wasn’t quite sure how they’d avoided it.

  Heavy footsteps shuffled behind them, and Riley turned to see Clive pressing an ice pack against the back of his neck.

  “I’ll take care of Carol,” he said. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

  Clive clasped Carol’s arm, and Riley stood. Carol sagged against Clive and closed her eyes.

  Riley bit her lip in concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

  The saloon owner shook his head. “Until she wants to change, no one can help, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Me too.”

  Clive helped Carol to the stairs, and Riley closed the door to the bar. Bright pinpoints of starlight covered the black canvas of sky. Whenever Riley saw Carol, the truth roared through her ears: The past never lets go. It can’t be vanquished. No matter how hard you fight.

  She traveled the five minutes back to Singing River, lingering memories—and nightmares—coalescing in the recesses of her mind.

  The streets of Singing River were deserted, not providing her with a distraction, either. Something else she missed about DC. The noise and bustle of a city could clog up the mind and make it easier to push away unwanted thoughts and feelings.

  She pulled Thayne’s car in front of the sheriff’s office. Every instinct screamed at her to dive into the Jordan case. Until Chloe woke up, Riley would have to dig into their lives to pull together a list of suspects.

  She found herself ticking through a list of tasks: Review the fire marshal’s report and the forensic evidence. Walk the crime scene again. Go through any papers in the Jordans’ panic room, not that she’d seen anything.

  She had yet to investigate a perfect murder. Everyone made mistakes. Her job would be to find this killer’s vulnerability.

  Riley gripped the steering wheel, stopping herself. This wasn’t her job. She wasn’t Special Agent Riley Lambert anymore. She had no authority. Not here. Or anywhere. Even if Thayne requested her help, her boss would have to reinstate her to assign her the job, and it really wasn’t an FBI case.

  So here she was, face-to-face with the same dilemma that had driven her back to DC in the first place. She’d never be happy with the crumbs Thayne could hand her. Tonight had been a rush. A much-needed one, but how often could he call on her to help? She knew the answer to that without having to do an extensive analysis. Singing River barely needed a sheriff—let alone a deputized civilian. Her uncertainty overwhelmed her. Being with Thayne had temporarily driven the reality away. No longer.

  Debating whether to go inside, she tapped the steering wheel with indecision. She could walk back to her car and just go to her room. Except Thayne would follow her.

  As if he could read her mind, Thayne walked out the front door, removed his Stetson, and slid into the passenger side. “You planning to sleep out here?”

  “Everyone okay?” she asked.

  “Complaining but settled.” He drummed his fingers on the rim. “It’s odd. Until the last year or so, Dad rarely locked up anyone he didn’t know. Pops experienced the same when he was sheriff. I’m third generation, and tonight I arrested eight people. Only two live here. I’m not convinced this change is good for Singing River. I spoke with the Pinedale sheriff last week. He said their population has doubled. There might be a few additional shops and more money circulating, but houses are twice as much, crime’s up, and too many strangers are passing through.”

  “You expected Singing River to stay stagnant?” Riley didn’t put the SUV into gear.

  “It didn’t change the first eighteen years I lived here. Of course, I never expected to come back so soon, either.” He turned in the seat to face her and grimaced. “I’d planned something completely different for the night you came home.”

  “Me too.” She bowed her head. “Look, I don’t know what to say—”

  “How about we don’t talk at all?” Thayne cupped her neck and pulled her into his arms. His lips pressed against hers, insistent, passionate, a reminder of what she’d missed from the day she’d left.

  Her heart thudded against her chest, and her legs quivered as he explored her mouth in a kiss that held so much promise. When he lifted his head, his own body trembled. “Welcome home.”

  She touched his cheek. He made her feel things she’d never believ
ed possible. Why was this so hard?

  “Are you going to see Chloe in the morning?”

  He pulled back from her, and his expression grew thoughtful. “If I were the kind of man who wanted to delude myself, I’d say you’d be happy to spend the next seventy-two hours with me, alone, but after three nights apart, you seem more interested in burying yourself in the Jordan investigation than in spending the night with me.”

  “I love you—”

  “Damn, I hate that you started your sentence with those three words,” he muttered. “You want to go back to DC.”

  “Yes.” She twisted her hands in her lap. She’d finally admitted it to herself. And to him. But it wasn’t the end of everything. Thayne could come with her. Being a sheriff had never been his dream. He’d already admitted that.

  “It’s not what I wanted to hear,” he said quietly, “but I figured. When are you leaving?”

  Hearing him say it aloud hurt.

  “Part of me would give anything to stay here with you, but I can’t. I don’t fit.” She clutched at his arm. “Why can’t this be a movie or a book where love conquers all obstacles?”

  Thayne snapped on his seat belt. “Because real life is messy. And complicated.” He glanced down Main Street, frowning. “Your car’s at the hospital.”

  He sat rigidly beside her, not looking her way. She needed to know what he was thinking, but she didn’t dare ask. They rode in silence the short distance to the hospital. Her car sat with three others in the parking lot. “I think I’ll check on Chloe while we’re here,” she said before she opened the driver’s side door.

  “As a witness or a suspect?” he asked, stopping her from leaving.

  “Neither. I’m not on this case. We both know that.” Riley snapped the words. The fatigue had to be getting to her. She was taking her own misery out on Thayne, and he didn’t deserve it.

  She got out, and as she closed her door, Thayne met her on her side. “The hell you aren’t.”

  Her gaze shot up to his. A sudden sadness radiated from her core, heating her skin. “Don’t make this harder, Thayne. You know I can’t stay.”

  “Life’s messy, complicated, and it’s hard. You’re the one who identified this case as a murder investigation. You’re damn well going to see it through. I’m not holding water on your theory by myself. Not when the fire marshal starts justifying his report to keep his job.”

  He was trying to find a reason for her to remain in Singing River. “It won’t work. I don’t have an official capacity here.”

  “DC drove you to a bad place. We both know that,” he challenged and let out a low curse. “You can’t leave yet. We still have a lot to talk about. Call yourself a consultant, and my office will hire you.”

  She paused for a moment and looked up at him, thunderstruck. “You’re serious?”

  “It’s a line item in the budget I added this fiscal year.”

  “A consultant.” She chewed it over. She didn’t want to leave, not like this. He was right. There was too much left unsaid between them. Too much to still do. Her mouth tilted up. “I like it, but you know it won’t solve the long-term problem.”

  “It’ll give us time.” Thayne opened his door and headed toward the hospital entrance. “Do we have an agreement?”

  “Deal.” Riley grabbed her bag and walked into the hospital beside him.

  “Hi, Sheriff, Agent Lambert,” the attendant seated at the emergency room desk greeted them both. “You here to see that poor girl? She’s not awake yet, but Dr. Blackwood-Riverton is down the hall.”

  Thayne smiled at the woman and bent down to whisper something that made her chuckle, before heading toward Chloe’s room.

  “She’s got a crush on you,” Riley said. “All the women in town do.”

  “Too bad my charm doesn’t hypnotize you.” He glanced down the deserted hallway and lowered his voice. “After you left for DC, I missed you.”

  She started to speak, but he held up his hand. “No, let me finish.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “While you were gone, I started wondering about living here permanently. I never pictured myself as the Singing River sheriff. Part of me thought I might retire here after another ten in the Navy, after I commanded a SEAL team.”

  His words, so very like her own feelings, stunned her. “But you didn’t hesitate to quit. I assumed you were sure. That you had no doubts.”

  “I didn’t. I was committed to making our relationship work, and my family needs me. They still do.”

  “You do have doubts, though,” she insisted.

  “Yeah. Then today, Dan Peterson, my father’s longtime friend, came to me for help. Then Aaron and Kim Jordan were killed, and now Chloe’s down the hall, in danger. I realized something, Riley. Somewhere in the last few months they became my people. My responsibility.”

  Riley’s stomach fell as she realized what his words meant. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “This might not be the most exciting job ever, but my heart’s taken root in this town.”

  Riley stilled at the unspoken truth behind his words.

  He turned to her and clasped her hands in his. “I believe you love me, but you were born to see what others don’t in a crime scene. You proved that in DC. You proved it today. Your past formed you into someone the FBI—and those victims—can’t live without. But today I realized that while you may not belong in Singing River . . .” He sucked in a deep breath. “I do.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Thayne belonged here.

  Parked in front of Fannie’s Bed and Breakfast, Riley watched the taillights from his SUV disappear in the distance. A wave of loneliness urged her to go after him, but he hadn’t asked to stay the night, and she hadn’t invited him.

  Her mind still couldn’t process Thayne’s words. She didn’t know what she’d expected after she’d admitted her desire to go back to DC, but down deep, she’d thought he’d go with her. She felt as if the earth had tilted on its axis.

  She glanced at the welcoming light on the front porch of Fannie’s B&B. It had been Riley’s home from the time she’d arrived in Singing River a month ago. Fannie had even held the room while she’d traveled to DC. The woman’s Southern hospitality, not to mention her famous cinnamon rolls and to-die-for coffee, had seduced Riley almost as easily as Thayne had. She’d known she couldn’t afford to stay here much longer, not without a job, but she’d resisted moving out to the Blackwood Ranch. She loved Thayne’s family, but sometimes she simply needed an escape.

  She definitely needed one tonight.

  The thing she’d always found disconcerting about her relationship with Thayne was his innate ability to understand her, and not on a superficial level—he got her, from deep within. She’d been broken when she arrived in Singing River, inches away from burning out. Thayne and this place had healed her.

  It had given her the strength to return to the job she loved. Did he really believe she belonged here?

  Trouble was, everything Thayne had said to her tonight had been simmering in the back of her mind. Damn him.

  She rounded the car, opened the back door, and stilled. She stiffened her back and studied the position of her suitcase and computer bag. Had they been moved? She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She’d thrown them into the back seat right after the plane had landed at the Singing River Municipal Airport. They would’ve landed cockeyed.

  “You’ve lost it, Riley. You need a cinnamon roll, some of Fannie’s coffee, and sleep—and in that order.”

  Bags in hand, she trudged up the steps to the Victorian-style home and slipped her key into the lock. She entered the foyer. A low light shone from the dining table. A tray of cinnamon rolls and coffee waited for her.

  Thank goodness one thing had remained the same while she’d been gone. Riley snagged the huge, ooey-gooey roll and filled a small carafe from the coffeepot. Before she even trudged up the stairs, she took in a whiff of whatever crazy blend Fannie ground. When she left, she’d have to find
a way for Fannie to send her some.

  Leave. The idea hurt Riley’s heart, and she shoved it aside. She wasn’t going anywhere until she figured out what had happened to Kim and Aaron Jordan. She’d made a commitment.

  Balancing her bags in one hand, with the carafe tucked under her arm and the cinnamon roll in the other hand, she wasn’t exactly graceful, but Riley managed to climb the stairs to her room. She set down her bags and fumbled for the room key.

  She pushed inside and then froze. Her gaze swept the room. The rumpled bedspread was her first clue something was very wrong. Fannie would never allow a bed to look like that. A partially eaten roll waited on the small table. This was her room. Fannie wouldn’t have offered it to someone else. All her things were still tucked into the nooks and crannies.

  Careful not to make any noise, Riley unloaded everything in her arms and in a practiced move pulled her Glock from its holster. There was nowhere to hide in the small room, save two places. Gun in hand, she searched beneath the bed. Empty and creepily clean and free of dust bunnies.

  One place left to look.

  She eased to the bathroom and glanced under the door. A light peeked through the crack. Ever so slowly she gripped the handle. With a deep breath, she threw open the door.

  A loud shriek echoed through the room. At her sister’s shout, Riley’s heart beat again. She lowered her weapon. “Maddy, what are you doing here?”

  Her sister clutched her chest and fell back against the vanity. “Oh my God, Riley, you scared me.”

  “I scared you? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Is everything okay up there?” Fannie’s voice carried into the room. “Madison?”

  Riley stuck her head out the door. “I was just surprised to see my sister. Sorry.”

  “Welcome back, dear.” Her seventy-five-year-old landlady frowned, wrapping the flowing dressing gown tighter around her body. “I assumed you knew she was coming.”

  “It’s fine. Sorry to bother you.”