That was before he discovered that each year’s issues were preserved on a single piece of film, then found himself crowded next to Audrey in front of a tiny cubicle containing a projector, trying to scan through the back issues from that summer at the same time.
They didn’t both need to do it. One person was more than capable of handling it. But he hadn’t wanted to risk missing out on anything, and he knew better than to think she would willingly leave it to him. It was only once they started that he realized he’d made a mistake. It didn’t look like there was much to miss out on. As was to be expected, there wasn’t exactly a lot of big news in a small town like this. The stories were a collection of slices of life that could only be interesting to the people involved, and were incredibly dull for anyone else.
Not to mention he was finding it impossible to concentrate on what he was supposed to when she was sitting so damn close.
He held himself stock-still, doing his best to avoid even brushing against her. It wasn’t easy. Their two chairs were wedged together as tightly as possible, so they could both see. It also didn’t really matter. He could still feel the heat of her body so strongly they might as well be pressed up against each other, could still smell her, the light, feminine scent filling his senses with every breath he took. God, did she have to smell so good, too?
He tried to focus on the words on the screen, only to realize he’d scanned the same passage several times without it sinking in.
“Look at this,” she said, thankfully pulling his attention back to the matter at hand. Leaning forward, she raised her hand and tapped the screen.
Stone straightened in his seat, somehow managing not to brush against her. “What is it?”
“A mention of the Bridgeses. It’s not much, but so far it’s the only one I’ve seen.”
“Something is better than nothing.”
“And I think this definitely could be something. A young man who worked on the Bridges farm died in a car accident late that July. His name was Tim Raymer. It says he was apparently driving home from the farm late that night when his car went off the road and struck a tree. The car burst into flames and wasn’t found until it was too late.” She swallowed, and when she spoke again, it was quietly, her voice thick. “He burned to death inside.”
His eyes had reached the words on the screen just as she said them. The double impact of seeing and hearing them hit him like bullets to the chest. He couldn’t breathe, the air knocked from his lungs. The words he’d been reading vanished, replaced by an image that rose in his mind, so vivid he might as well be seeing it in front of him. A car in flames, burning before his very eyes. He no longer heard Audrey’s voice. He only heard the screams, echoing endlessly in his ears.
Lisa. The girls. Burning to death before his very eyes.
He’d tried to get them out. He still remembered the heat of the flames, of the metal against his hands. He’d heard them screaming, knew he had to get them out. Later he wondered if he’d really heard what he thought he had, or whether it had been his own screams or those of his neighbors trying to pull him away. They may have been beyond screaming by then, already lost in the time it had taken him to react to the sound of the explosion and rush outside.
The feeling of something tugging on his hand finally broke through the emotions washing through him. Numbly, he looked down to see someone’s fingers wrapped around his gloved ones. He followed the arm they were attached to all the way up to Audrey’s face. She was looking at him, her eyes warm with concern and sympathy.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
Anger sparked in his belly, piercing the numbness. He wanted to tell her no, to ask her what the hell kind of question that was. No, he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been for more than two years, and likely never would again.
The flash of irrational anger died as he remembered exactly who he was looking at, realized that the sadness in her eyes wasn’t just for him. Hal’s home had been torched with him in it, so there was a good chance he’d burned to death, too, if he hadn’t been dead already when the house had gone up.
“Yeah,” he made himself say. He knew he should say something to her and return the comforting gesture, see how she was holding up in this. He couldn’t make himself do it. That connection between them was too strong. He couldn’t risk deepening it. Even now, her hand felt impossibly warm on his, even through the leather glove.
Looking away from the shared pain in her eyes, he turned his focus back to the screen. “I wonder if Bridges knew him, or vice versa.”
He felt her gaze remain on him for a few moments before she finally glanced back at the article. “Well, according to this, Tim Raymer was seventeen, so roughly the same age as Bridges. There’s a chance they knew each other.”
“It certainly sounds possible. It’s hard to believe there’s much to do around here, and knowing how much Bridges loved horses even back then, it makes sense that he would know someone his own age who worked on the farm.”
“Even so, there’s no reason to believe this has anything to do with Bridges’s secret,” she admitted.
“Maybe not, but it’s all we have to go on at the moment, and we have to start somewhere. Besides, we need to talk to anyone who knew Bridges back then, see if they can tell us more about him. Tim’s obviously not around, but his parents might be, and they could tell us if Tim talked about Bridges, or point us in the direction of anyone else who worked at the farm at the same time.”
“It says here Tim lived with his uncle, Clint Raymer. There’s no mention of his parents.”
“It’s worth a shot,” he said. “It looks like we have a few weeks left to go through, but so far I haven’t seen anything else here that seems relevant.”
“Neither have I,” Audrey agreed. “Okay, so we’ll start with Clint Raymer. Let’s see if we can track him down.”
After printing out the article for future reference, they scanned the rest of the issues for any follow-up stories. There weren’t any. Neither Tim Raymer nor the Bridges family were mentioned again in the paper during the rest of the summer or the months immediately following.
They returned the film to the librarian and obtained a copy of the local phone book. A “C. Raymer” was listed, but no address was given. Audrey wrote down the number, and they returned to the librarian, a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties.
“Excuse me,” Jason said, drawing her attention. “We’re trying to find a Clint Raymer. Is there any chance you know where he lives?”
The woman simply blinked at them, her expression going slack with surprise. “Clint Raymer?”
“That’s right. Do you know him?” he asked, even though it was clear from her reaction she did.
The woman nodded slowly. “Sure. Why are you looking for him, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“For my great-aunt,” Audrey said before he could improvise a cover story, surprising him. “He’s a distant cousin of hers, one of the few relatives she has left in the world, and we told her we’d try to look him up while we’re in the area. She hasn’t spoken to him in years, and she’d like to get back in touch.”
The librarian’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh, I didn’t know Clint had any family left. That’s nice. He could probably use some.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
The woman bit her lip, and he sensed her choosing her words carefully. “Exactly how much do you know about Clint?”
“Not much at all,” Audrey admitted.
The woman grimaced, then lowered her voice. “Clint has a bit of a…drinking problem, and even when he’s not drinking he’s not always the nicest person to be around. Like I said, it might be nice for him to have some family. I’m just not sure how nice it would be for you or your aunt.”
“I understand,” Audrey said. “My aunt was afraid that might be the case. Thank you for the warning. Maybe a visit from family will do him good. Can you tell us where he lives?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the woman reached for a pencil and a piece of paper. “His house is outside of town. It’s the only one on that road, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding it. The hard part is finding the road, but I can draw you a map.”
“Thank you,” Audrey said warmly. “That’s really kind of you.”
The woman grimaced again, her expression clearly saying she wondered if Audrey would feel the same way once she met Clint Raymer.
Two minutes later, they headed out of the library, the map neatly folded in Audrey’s bag. As they approached the exit, Stone slipped his sunglasses back on. Stepping out of the building, he immediately scanned the surrounding area.
A familiar face jumped out at him in the crowd.
It was the man from the diner.
Shock jolted through him, but Jason didn’t let it stop him. The man wasn’t looking in their direction and didn’t appear to have noticed them. Jason spun away from the man, grabbing Audrey’s arm and propelling her in the other direction as well.
“What’s going on?” she asked under her breath.
“Trouble. Our friend is here.”
She inhaled sharply but didn’t comment or question him further. He was glad for that. They didn’t have time. They had to get out of here.
The sidewalk was still crowded, and most of the people around them didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. Not that the two of them could rush anyway. The worst thing they could do was draw attention to themselves. They needed to blend seamlessly into the crowd. So Stone matched his pace to that of the people around them, no matter how much every instinct wanted to go faster. Beside him, Audrey did the same.
It didn’t seem likely the man would try something in public on a busy street. Even if he had a gun with a silencer, he wasn’t going to open fire in front of all these people. No, Jason’s main concern was having the man spot them at all.
Though his car was parked not too far up ahead, they couldn’t go to it, couldn’t risk the man identifying it as theirs if he saw them enter it. Nor could they stay together, he realized. The man was probably looking for two people instead of one, and even with their hair changed, they were still the same approximate heights and shapes. Staying together was too much of a risk, even if the last thing he wanted to do was let her go.
He still forced his fingers to loosen on her arm, leaning closer as he did it. “Make your way to the next block and turn left,” he said under his breath. “I’ll meet you there. If anything happens, run.”
He sensed her stiffen in surprise and saw her shoot a startled glance at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t acknowledge her reaction. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he shifted away from her, slowing slightly. After a moment, she gradually picked up speed, not enough to be noticeable, but enough that she moved in front of him.
Stone made a conscious effort to shift his head slightly from side to side, not so much that anyone behind him would be able to see his profile, but so that it appeared he was looking around himself. All the while, he kept his eyes on Audrey’s back, entirely too aware of the tension crawling up his own. Whether it was from someone’s eyes on him or the simple knowledge that there could be, he didn’t know. He could only keep moving forward, only hope the man hadn’t seen them.
Audrey finally reached the corner and slipped around it. Her hair fell over her face, keeping it from view as she turned. Stone was still several yards back. He slid over to that side of the sidewalk to follow.
An eternity later, he finally made it there. As he rounded the corner, he risked a glance back.
The man wasn’t following them. Jason didn’t see his face in the crowd. He was nowhere in sight.
The tightness in Jason’s chest didn’t ease. The man could appear again at any moment. He focused his attention in front of him, automatically seeking Audrey.
“Jason,” she said softly, stepping forward from the side where she’d moved out of the way.
He motioned her forward. “Come on.”
She fell back into step beside him. They quickly made their way back to the car, neither speaking until they were both inside. As he started the engine and pulled away from the curb, he kept his eyes on his mirrors, scanning for any sign of the man.
“How did he manage to track us here already?” Audrey asked quietly, as though there was still a risk of anyone overhearing. “Do you think someone identified us?”
“No, even if someone did, it’s unlikely he could have gotten here this fast.” Still keeping an eye on the street, Stone pulled into traffic. “The book,” he said finally. “If he figured out that we really don’t know what’s in it, then it would make sense that we would try to re-create Hal’s investigation to find out on our own. He has an advantage on us, because he probably has a copy of the book, so he knows what Hal uncovered. Whatever it is has to be connected to Barrett’s Mill, so he came here expecting us to.”
“Well, at least we know we’re on the right track,” Audrey said grimly.
That was the one positive about the man’s appearance here, Jason agreed silently. Unfortunately, everything else about it was bad.
They didn’t just have to avoid any of his former colleagues or any members of Bridges’s staff who might know about them. They had to avoid the assassin who was specifically looking for them. In a town this small, it hardly seemed possible.
The man was already closing in on them.
And they were running out of time.
Chapter Six
Shaw kept a smile on his lips as he stepped into the library, part of the pleasant expression necessary to blend and go unnoticed. As he took in the racks of books before him, he nearly shook his head. He hadn’t spent this much time around books since he was a kid back in school. Back then, he’d never wanted much to do with them. Now it seemed he couldn’t get away from them.
He’d spent half the night reading Talmadge’s book. The man had been a hell of a writer, Shaw had to give him that. Shaw had only been in it for the information, but the book had been a better read than he’d expected.
Too bad Talmadge had also been a hell of a reporter, which was exactly why he’d had to die.
He’d found out something, all right. Specifically, one thing that could have proven very messy if it had been allowed to get out.
Which it still might. That was why Shaw was here.
Bridges had been shocked by what Shaw had told him was in the book, and ordered him to contain the situation, exactly as Shaw had known he would and had already been planning to do.
If Stone and Ellison were in Barrett’s Mill, he’d find them eventually. In the meantime, he had a few other loose ends to deal with.
If they did come here, they would no doubt try to talk to certain people, some of whom would be more than willing to talk to them, if Talmadge’s book was any indication. Which meant he had to make sure those people couldn’t talk to Stone and Ellison.
Or to anyone else.
Spotting the reference desk up ahead, he moved toward it. He had sources who could have given him the information he needed, but there was no use paying for something he could get free. Not to mention doing a little legwork offered the opportunity to get a feel for the town.
Walking down Main Street had given him a good sense of what he needed to know. This was a small town, which had both advantages and disadvantages. In a town this size, people tended to notice strangers. Lucky for him, plenty of strangers were in town, which would make it easier for him not to stand out. On the downside, there were plenty of potential witnesses squeezed into a fairly small area. He was still going to have to proceed carefully.
But first he needed another book.
He came to a stop in front of the reference desk. A librarian—mid-thirties, short brown hair—stood behind it, her head down as she focused on some kind of paperwork.
“Excuse me,” he said politely.
The librarian looked up and blinked at him, her lips quickly curving in a smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. May I help you?”
“I hope so,” he said pleasantly, matching her smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a local phone book available, would you?”
“D
O YOU THINK
it’s even safe to go see Clint Raymer?” Audrey asked as they followed the map the librarian had drawn for them. “If he does know something, then Hal might have spoken to him and mentioned him in the book. If so, that man could figure out we’d go to see him.”
“In that case, that man could be after Raymer anyway, which means we have to get to him first.”
Jason was right, she acknowledged with a frown. While it was a risk, it was a necessary one. If Clint knew something, they needed to find out what it was, even if it meant giving their pursuer a chance to catch up when they’d only just escaped him.
A tremor of apprehension slid through her, raising goose bumps on her skin. There were too many choices facing them, decisions that had to be made quickly and correctly, with no room for error. The stakes were too high. One misstep and it could mean their lives.
Of course, ever since she’d met him, Jason had had no trouble making fast decisions, and he had yet to step wrong. From the first time he’d saved her life to the escape from the diner, he seemed to have a knack for knowing exactly what to do. Back on the street, he’d seen their pursuer and quickly devised a plan, albeit one she hadn’t agreed with. She’d immediately understood what he was doing, giving her a chance to get away while keeping himself a target. He’d even told her to run if anything happened. She’d wanted to argue, but naturally there hadn’t been any way she could at that moment. Fortunately, they’d both gotten away in the end.
The moment had reminded her of something that she’d known from the start, from that first conversation at the bar when he’d refused to get involved and she’d looked into the bleakness of his eyes.
“You have to know they’re going to come after you.”
“Why should I care?”
In the end, he’d chosen to get involved after all, but she knew it wasn’t because he was just as much of a target and he wanted to save his own life. He’d only gotten involved to save hers.
Some people might think that was noble, that he was willing to put his life on the line for hers. But it was only noble when someone was risking something that mattered to him, and she didn’t believe his life did.
He didn’t think he had anything left to live for.
Sadness welling up inside her, she eyed him curiously. She wanted to believe she was wrong. There was only one reason to believe she was, a question that had been nagging at her since that first meeting.
“That was some impressive quick thinking back there,” Audrey said, trying to keep her tone casual. “You’re pretty good at evading people.”
“It’s something I’ve picked up over the years.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I remember how hard it was to track you down.”
“Obviously not hard enough,” he pointed out dryly.
“I suppose not. There’s just one thing I don’t understand. When I tracked you down yesterday and told you someone was probably coming after you, you acted like you didn’t care, like it didn’t matter to you whether you live or die. And yet you live completely off the grid, making it as difficult as possible for anyone to find you, like you expect someone to come after you and you’re doing everything to make sure they can’t. Doesn’t quite compute, for someone who doesn’t care if they live or die. Do you think they’re still coming after you? The people who killed your family?”
He shook his head. “I know they’re not. There’s no one left to hold a grudge.”
“So why go to all that trouble?”
“I just want to be left alone.”
Her heart sank. “Then it has nothing to do with survival.”
“What are you getting at?”
She hardened her tone. “I want you to know that I don’t expect you to sacrifice yourself for me, and I don’t want you to. Whether or not you think so, your life is just as important as mine.”
He snorted. “Is that why you were so insistent on not letting me come to Barrett’s Mill by myself? Because you weren’t sure if I care whether I live or die?”
“I told you why I wanted to come, and everything I said was true. But I admit I did wonder.”
He didn’t say anything, staring straight ahead, his expression hard and emotionless.
When the silence became more than she could stand, she asked quietly, “
Do
you? Do you care?”
He remained silent, which she was afraid was answer enough.
Before she could think of anything else to say, he jerked his head toward the road in front of them. “I think this is it.”
Even as he said it, the vehicle began to slow. Audrey looked up in surprise to see they were outside of town. He was pulling off onto a side road.
She could have pressed the question, but she suspected there wasn’t much of a point.
As Jason maneuvered the car down the road, Audrey surveyed the dense trees lining it on both sides. They almost seemed to create a tunnel around the roadway. Looking ahead, she could see nothing but the trees, and more road stretching ahead.
She wondered if Tim Raymer had died somewhere along this stretch of road. If that was the case, she could understand why he might not have been discovered until it was too late. Even after a good thirty seconds of traveling down the road, the house remained out of sight. Any accident that happened here would likely not be visible from whatever lay at the end of the road, and probably wouldn’t be heard either.
The trees finally cleared, revealing a one-story house set on a small plot of land. The house and the garage beside it were both old and ill-kept, with fading paint and missing shingles on the roofs. The grass was patchy and choked with weeds. Everything about the scene spoke of neglect and decay.
An ancient blue pickup truck was parked in front of the house. Stone pulled up behind it. “I hope that means he’s home.”
Climbing out of the car, they moved to the front door. A rusty screen door hung in front of it. There didn’t appear to be a doorbell. Audrey had no other options but to knock directly on the metal of the screen door. She rapped on it quickly, wincing at the way it rattled in the frame.
A minute passed. No response.
“What if that man was already here?” she murmured. “What if something happened to Clint Raymer?”
“Then we at least need to find out,” he said.
Nodding grimly, Audrey knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Her tension growing, she leaned over to try to see through the front window. The curtains were closed and they were heavy enough that there was no way to see through them.
She knocked again. “Do you think we should try the door?”
Jason opened his mouth to respond when the front door was suddenly wrenched open. An angry face pressed up against the screen, glaring at them through red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes.
“What the hell do you want?”
The man was in his seventies at the very least, his face bloated and mottled from what Audrey suspected was years of alcohol abuse. Considering the trouble he seemed to be having focusing his eyes, she would guess he’d had more than a little to drink already today. It seemed a good bet that this was the man they were looking for. “Mr. Raymer?”
“Who’s asking?”
“We were hoping to speak with you about your nephew.”
“Don’t got one.”
“You didn’t have a nephew named Tim Raymer?”
“I did. Don’t anymore. He’s dead.”
“We know. We’d still like to speak with you about him.”
The man’s bleary eyes narrowed on Audrey for a long moment. “Eh, why the hell not? I ain’t got nothing better to do.”
He turned around and walked into the house without opening the screen door for them. Audrey and Jason exchanged a confused glance. With a shrug, Jason opened the screen door and held it for her. After a moment, Audrey stepped inside. She supposed it had been an invitation, or at least as much of one as they were going to get.
Clint Raymer had already plopped himself in a well-worn recliner in the dingy, poorly lit living room, a beer can clutched in his right hand. Audrey did her best to keep her distaste from showing. Even if he’d offered, she would have hesitated to take a seat herself. The room was a mess. Empty beer bottles and unwashed dishes crowded the coffee table. Piles of dirty clothes and newspapers were everywhere. A few odors she didn’t even want to try to identify reached her nose.
Clint didn’t say anything, simply watching them through hooded eyes as they stepped into the middle of the room before him.
“Did your nephew live here with you?” Jason asked.
“Yep,” the man grunted. “Ever since I got stuck with him.”
“How did he come to live with you?” Audrey asked.
“His ma up and died. She was my sister. Wasn’t nobody else.”
“What about his father?”
“Never knew who he was. His ma never said.” The last words came out on a sneer that oozed contempt, whether for his sister or his nephew, Audrey couldn’t tell. Either way, it wasn’t exactly a nice attitude to have toward his own family. She tried not to frown and show her disapproval, even as she felt a twinge of sympathy for Tim Raymer, stuck in this awful house with this awful man. She had a feeling neither had been much better thirty-five to forty years ago.
“It doesn’t sound like you were too happy to have your nephew living with you,” Jason noted.
“Eh, he was all right when he was a kid. It was good to have somebody to do chores around here, clean up, cook. I never got hitched myself, so never had a wife to do that stuff. But as he grew up, he got too big for his britches. Thought he was real smart, too good for this town, better than me. Kept saying he was going to college, make something of himself, not waste his life like me. Who’s going to pay for this
college,
I ask him. He didn’t have an answer for that. Guess he wasn’t so smart after all.”
“He was working at the Bridges farm the summer he died, is that right?” Jason asked.
“That’s right. Just like his mama used to.” His eyes narrowed, sparkling with a sudden unexpected shrewdness. “That why you’re here? Bridges?” The way he said it, he was wholly unimpressed by the town’s favorite son.
“Yes,” Audrey said. “Did your nephew talk to you about his job there?” she asked, even as she had the feeling Tim Raymer wouldn’t have wanted to talk to his uncle about much of anything. “Do you know if he knew Rich Bridges?”
Clint smirked. “You’re not really here about the boy, are you? You’re here about the
girl
.”
Audrey and Jason exchanged a glance. She could see he didn’t have any more of an idea what the man was talking about than she did. “What girl?” Audrey asked.
“Timmy’s girlfriend, Julie Ann Foster.” The name came out on another sneer, and Audrey was almost surprised he didn’t spit after saying it. “I told that writer all about her. Guess he finally got the word out in his book, huh?”
Excitement surged through her. So they were on the right track. “This writer. Was his name Hal Talmadge?”
Clint shrugged. “Sounds about right, I guess.”
“I’m afraid he died recently. His book was lost. Would you be willing to tell us what you told him?”
“Sure. Somebody ought to get the truth out.”
“So this Julie Ann Foster was your nephew’s girlfriend?” Jason asked.
“She was till that summer. Looks like she dropped him just as soon as a bigger fish came along. Hell, maybe she used him to meet the big fish, same way she was trying to use him to get out of this town. Pretty girl, but she was nothing but trash, just like her folks. She wanted to get out of here just like Timmy, and she figured he was her ticket to do it. At least until she found a surer thing.” He raised his beer can in acknowledgment. “Well, she pulled it off, I’ll give her that much.”