Breathless (15 page)

 

16

 

At a little past nine the next morning, Matthew sat in his car outside Sheryl's home. He waited, praying, attempting to find the correct words to comfort Lydia. Sleep had escaped him last night. Memories of Charlie Westerman's death haunted the long night. Riley's early morning phone call commenting that it was truly blood on Lydia's walls only caused more visions for Matthew of the blood in the Miami alleyway.

The deep green grass, along with the neatly trimmed hedges gave him a sense of order. He sauntered up the stone walkway. Four large pillars ran along the front porch, and a beveled glass door, decorated with a lily, greeted him as he approached. He paused for a moment, and prayed silently again for strength before knocking.

Sheryl answered and led him to the kitchen. “She'll be okay, once she's over the initial shock. She actually slept pretty well.” Sheryl passed him a mug of coffee after he sat at the dining room table. “I stayed with her in case she needed me. I wish Warren hadn't left yet. He always had a way of making her feel better, no matter the circumstances.”

“You're a good friend.” From the dark circles, it was clear she hadn't had much rest either.

The beige dining area had an oriental flare he hadn't noticed when he visited before. White serving bowls glared from the glass cabinets and offered a stark contrast to the dark wood furniture. A large white pendant light hung over the table giving off a soft glow. A painting of a Chinese woman holding a fan hung on the wall. The signature in the bottom read S. Coufield. Lydia was right, Sheryl was very talented.

“I wish we knew who was doing this.” Sheryl rose to answer the ringing doorbell. “Have they found out anything?” She let Riley in.

Matthew felt a large lump in his throat as he rose to face the consequences of his actions from the night before. He hadn't slept for days, and last night all that weariness came to a head. He'd wanted to hurt somebody for hurting Lydia, and he chose his friend, even though he knew deep down Riley couldn't be responsible.

“How's she doing?” Riley asked as Sheryl went to retrieve him some coffee.

“She's still sleeping. She apparently slept pretty good once she arrived.”

Riley nodded.

He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Quite a contrast from his tan uniform. Riley retreated with Matthew to the living-room.

“And you, how are you doing?” Riley leaned against the fireplace to the left of a brown sofa. Two additional paintings caught Matthew's eye. One held a waterfall, the other a village. Both, again, signed by Sheryl.

“I'm a bit more calm,” Matthew said through steam from the mug of coffee. “Listen, about last night. I want to apologize. I had no reason to attack you, verbally or otherwise.”

“It's okay. Besides, if it had been me and a woman I cared for, I would have landed a blow.” Riley gave a slight turn of his head. “But then, I'm not a preacher.”

When Sheryl rejoined them, Lydia followed behind. Matthew was relieved to see the color returned to her face. She allowed him to pull her into a hug, her cheek resting on his chest. Even if he had no words of comfort, he could hold her and let her know he cared.

She tried to force a smile. “I'm sorry I'm such a mess.”

“I think you look wonderful.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “We'll figure out who's doing this. Don't you worry.”

She turned around and leaned back against the crook of his shoulder. His deep rooted anger had dissipated. All Matthew wanted to do was protect her from this maniac who'd entered her life. There was no way he was bringing up her brother's shooting now. It would only cause her more pain.

“The telephone calls and the picture were bad enough, but now he's been in my house.” Lydia lifted herself as she spoke to Riley. “Do they have any new information?”

“They have a suspect, but that's all.”

“Who? Who did this?” Sheryl had fire in her eyes. “You give me five minutes alone with him, and I'll force a confession.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that.” Riley drew his eyes to the floor. “Besides, I know for a fact he didn't do it.”

“How can you be so positive?” Sheryl folded her arms across her chest. “Let me guess, it's a crony at the station. It's like the big city. All you cops stick together and protect each other.”

“It's not that,” Riley answered. He ran a hand down his face. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. Lack of sleep seemed to be a common denominator.

“Who do they suspect it is?” Lydia's voice sounded desperate. “Please tell me. I need to know.”

Riley inhaled deeply and shot Matthew an anxious look. “They think it's me.”

 

****

 

The police had discovered a badge-shaped pendant at the foot of her bed, one like Riley owned. Lydia's mind ran over possible scenarios. She could only think of two. Either he had to be the person terrorizing her or it was placed there to implicate him.

“It's not only the pin.” Anxiety rode over Riley's features as he took a deep breath.

A chill raced through Lydia at what could be next.

“What more could there be?” Sheryl's tone held the trepidation Lydia felt.

“The bullet used to kill Jimmy Newman came from a gun I kept at my house.” He stared into the waterfall painting over the fireplace. “I'm being set up real well. I've been put on leave of absence from the department. The Sheriff in Ringgold and his people have taken over the investigation.” He turned to Lydia. “We kept everything quiet hoping someone would mention some evidence and give themselves away. I guess most of the information will come out now.” His voice went low when he said, “A note was found on Jimmy's body. It was a Christmas gift tag to you.”

Lydia felt a punch in the midsection. This maniac shot Jimmy because of her. White dots appeared before her as everything began to spin.

“Lydia.” Sheryl rushed to her side.

She staggered. “I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic all of a sudden.” The stress of the previous evening crashed over her. Her hands trembled, and her knees folded beneath her as she caved against Matthew.

He led her to a white swing on the front porch. The plush cushion welcomed her as she leaned back. Fresh air relaxed her and the haziness dissipated. She choked in a deep breath. Once composed, she ran over everything in her mind.

“Lydia, I am not doing this to you. I would never hurt you,” Riley pleaded. “I didn't kill Jimmy, and I didn't break into your house. You have to believe me.”

She swallowed hard and brushed a hand through her hair. “When we found out about Justin's illness, I was devastated. I saw everything I'd dreamed for us dying, too. He said no matter what happened, three things I could always be sure of: First and foremost trust my faith in God; second, never doubt his love for me.”

“And the third?” Matthew placed his arm on the back of the swing.

“You can always trust Riley Owens.”

“That much is true. I know that from experience,” Matthew said.

“I can't imagine if he trusted you that much, you would betray him by terrifying me.” Lydia reached out and placed Riley's hand in hers. “I know you aren't doing this to me.” She choked back her tears. “And I know you weren't the person who killed Jimmy.”

Riley gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Tears rose in his eyes.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe you're the intended target?” Matthew looked between the three.

“What do you mean?” Riley stared down at Matthew.

“Maybe it's not really Lydia who this guy's after. He starts making telephone calls on the anniversary of
your
close friend's death. Most people are aware you would probably check on her. He uses office supplies from
your
office, and he puts a photograph at the gravesite of
your
friend, being fully conscious you would be there to see it.”

Long nails ran up Lydia's spine. The more Matthew discussed the matter, the more her anxiety level rose.

“Then he destroys her house to plant evidence implicating you,” Matthew continued. “It could be it's you he's been after all along.”

“They could have gotten into my house and taken the gun while I was working. It's not exactly Fort Knox,” Riley added. “It's probably when they got the pendant. I kept it on my dresser.”

“If so, it's someone who's familiar with your and Lydia's relationship.” Matthew rose.

“So what you're saying is Riley is the person he's after.” Lydia gave Matthew a worried look. “I'm just a means to an end.”

“A way to get even with Riley for something he'd done, whether it be real or imagined,” Matthew replied.

Sheryl glanced up and down the street. “He could be watching us. If so, it's not going to take long before he realizes his plan didn't work. He probably hoped we'd turn against Riley, leave him out to blow in the wind by himself, so to speak.”

Lydia's fear had morphed into anger as she rose. “I'm not about to let this jerk use me like that. I'm tired of giving this guy all the power and feeling as if I'm a victim. Maybe I should start fighting back.” She paced the porch. “I'm going to go to my house and clean it to show everyone I'm not his pawn.”

“It's still considered a crime scene,” Riley said. “They won't release it for a couple more days.”

“Once they do, I'll clean it up. He'll see; I'm not afraid.”

The weight that had been on her chest finally lifted. Lydia could actually breathe again. She saw concern in her friends' eyes as they stood around her. “Don't worry. I won't get carried away. I probably sound braver than I really feel.” Lydia grinned.

Matthew took her hand in his. “Good. Because I wonder how far he'll go to take revenge on Riley.”

 

****

 

Lydia had stayed with Sheryl for three days when the police said her house would be available by the weekend. She would be glad to get inside and see how much damage there was. She only hoped she didn't freak out upon seeing her bedroom. It was too bad Warren had already left. She could use all the support she could get.

She looked at the paint samples between her and Sheryl while seated in the booth at the small sandwich shop in Chattanooga. “I feel good about redoing the house once we're finished upstairs. Some of your ideas will work real nice to open it up and make it feel more alive. That should make Riley happy.”

“And the new man coming over,” Sheryl said.

“I'm not sure we should continue to see each other until this guy is caught. I'm not convinced he's after Riley and not me.” Lydia sucked in a breath. “I couldn't handle it again if I lost anyone else I cared that deeply for.”

“What do you mean that deeply?” A coy smile crossed Sheryl's face. “Come on. Say it out loud.”

Lydia's face warmed at the thought of Matthew's arms around her. Her feelings for him had deepened in the last couple of weeks. She was surprised by how much she cared for him though they had only known each other a short time.

“I thought that was your car parked outside.”

Lydia startled at James Newman, III standing over them. She got the uneasy feeling of being watched. She swallowed hard and worked to regain her composure. “James, how are you and Melanie doing?”

“We're adjusting.” He paused. “I spoke with Riley yesterday. I understand his gun was used to kill my son.”

“He told us.” Sheryl wiped the condensation from her glass of tea as she spoke.

“I also discovered he'd been removed from office until you interfered.” James glared down at Lydia. “You used the Pendleton influence to get him reinstated.”

“We all know he's not guilty. He's obviously being set up.” She tried to hold her voice down so other patrons couldn't hear. “Besides, I didn't use any influence. Riley was able to account for his whereabouts between the time I left home and the time I returned. There's no way he could have done it.”

“All I know is you're assisting the person who possibly killed my son. You can't imagine what this is doing to Melanie.”

“She'll be fine once the real killer is discovered. Maybe if I call and talk with her,” Lydia offered.

“You will do no such thing.” James slammed his hand on the table. “You should mind your own business. If you think those phone calls are bad, you have no idea the type of damage I can do.” He rose and folded his arms across his chest. “You really didn't turn out to be the type of woman I thought you were.”

“I'm sorry I disappointed you, James.” Lydia fought to keep from rolling her eyes. His pious attitude was beginning to irritate even her.

“You help a killer get off, and you date the man who shot your brother. I wonder what your parents would say if they ever found out.”

Lydia's heart leapt into her throat.
The man who shot my brother?
“What are you talking about?”

“Don't tell me your preacher lover didn't tell you he's the one who shot Charlie in Miami.”

“I don't believe you.” Lydia wanted to knock the smug look from James's face, but she was too stunned to move. She looked at Sheryl whose eyes had widened and whose mouth hung open.

James leaned on the table with one hand. “Contact the Miami-Dade Police Department. They'll tell you. I guess that new boyfriend of yours isn't as straightforward as you think. I'm sure once everyone in the congregation finds out, they'll be more than happy to deal with Matthew appropriately.” James turned and strutted out.

Lydia couldn't speak. She couldn't catch her breath. Not once since they met did Matthew mention knowing Charlie. Lydia never would have dated him, much less, fallen in—The thought stood at the forefront of her mind. How could she care for someone who killed her brother? Nausea rose.