“Cain. We’ve found her.”
He circled the table and peered over her shoulder. He looked through the large magnifying lens at the image of a smiling teenager. A quick glance at the photo in Sophie’s left hand confirmed they’d found their match.
Cain picked up the book for a closer look. “Andrea Patterson.”
“Do you know her?”
“No. But it shouldn’t be too hard to track her down. A couple of minutes on the computer and we should have what we need.”
“Great.” Sophie bounced up from her chair. “Let’s do it.”
Cain laughed, placed a hand on her shoulder and eased her back into her chair. “Whoa, speed racer. We’re not doing anything right now.”
She could barely conceal her disappointment.
He glanced at his watch. “Sorry, Sophie, but it’s almost eight o’clock. The library closes at nine and I have to return these books, or Mrs. Neville will hunt me down and the punishment won’t be pretty. Besides, it’s time to get you home. Tomorrow is another day.”
Sophie grimaced.
Tomorrow is another day.
So many times her father had said those exact words when she’d been antsy and excited about an upcoming craft show or a special treat. She missed him so much.
“You’re right.” She stood slowly and stacked the discarded yearbooks. “Let me help you take these back to the library. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to see you and your secret weapon in action.”
The trip home passed in a companionable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. When they pulled up in front of Sophie’s cottage, a flush of pleasure raced through her. This was home. The only home she’d ever known, and it surprised her how good it felt to be able to stay for more than a fleeting visit.
Cain exited and started checking the outside perimeter of the house before Sophie had even stepped from the car.
Once a cop, always a cop…and a private investigator…and a chef…and a really kind, decent man.
She couldn’t hide the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
“Safe and sound?” she asked as Cain circled around from the back.
“So far, so good.” He held out his hand for her key.
Once inside, Cain quickly moved from room to room, checking windows, closets. He even peered behind the shower curtain in her bathroom.
Sophie lounged against a door jamb to the living room. “If P.I. doesn’t work out for you, I’d be happy to give you a recommendation as security consultant.”
Cain grinned. “Who said P.I. wasn’t working?”
Sophie raised her hands defensively. “Point taken.” He hesitated by the front door and she raised an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not comfortable leaving you alone out here. I really wish you’d move to town—at least for a few days.”
“Cain, you locked every window yourself. You checked every inch of the house that was big enough to hide a mouse. You paced the outside perimeter—twice. Now, go home. I am perfectly safe. I have 911 and your number on speed dial and pepper spray in my pocket.”
She placed her hands against his chest and pushed lightly. The rock-solid hardness beneath her palms sent an unexpected thrill through her fingertips and she snatched back her hands as though she’d been burned. To hide her embarrassment, she opened the door and held it wide.
“Go. Now.”
He stared at her with that dark intensity that made her feel he could read her emotions as easily as people read books.
“Don’t go outside for anything.” He stepped into the door threshold. “And don’t open your door for anyone.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute. When he hit the bottom step of her porch she called, “Cain.”
Instantly he stopped and turned.
“If I find you sleeping in your car again, you’re fired.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Now get inside.”
She locked the dead bolt and then peered through the side window until Cain’s car taillights were nothing more than a tiny red glow. Only when they’d disappeared completely did she allow her gaze to travel high and low over the surrounding trees and shrubs.
Nothing.
No sounds.
No unusual shadows.
She was safe.
So why couldn’t she shake this strong sensation that the woods had eyes?
EIGHT
S
ophie hoped Cain would blame the bright morning sun for the red tinge in her cheeks and not realize this blush occurred each time she looked at him.
“I could have driven my own car and met you at your office.” She enjoyed the freedom of studying his profile unnoticed as he drove—his sharp cheekbones, straight nose and strong chin, the shadow of a beard although he’d obviously shaved this morning. Cain looked so much like a young Johnny Depp. The resemblance was amazing—and to think she’d found him in the tiny town of Promise, Virginia. Who knew?
“Andrea Patterson lives out this way,” Cain said. “We’re both going to the same place, right? Why waste time or gas?”
“According to you, nobody in their right mind lives out this way except me.”
Cain chuckled. “Point taken.”
When he turned his head and smiled, her stomach flip-flopped. She wondered if he had this effect on the entire female population or if the powerful draw she felt for him was the beginning of something special. Sophie wasn’t that naive. She knew he was fighting his attraction to her as well.
What was it? She’d seen good-looking men before, even dated a couple of them, but she’d never experienced such conflicting emotions. She had to keep reminding herself that she had hired him to find her father. Period. It was foolish to allow her emotions to enter the picture. Yet, his personality drew her to him. As well as his strength, intelligence, compassion. She couldn’t deny the entire package had the makings for some pretty strong chemistry.
Chemistry? Insanity, maybe. After all, she’d only known the man for three days. Although she had to admit they’d been terrifying, adventurous, exciting days. She gave herself a mental shake. Her nomadic and reclusive life had made it rare to be exposed to a man like Cain, that was all. She needed to acknowledge that the attraction was normal—like appreciating the beauty of a sunset or a finished sculpture—and then get her head out of the clouds.
“I can’t believe you located her address this quickly,” Sophie said, attempting to bring her mind back to business, not biceps.
“Ahh, the beauty of modern technology.” Cain grinned again. “It took a little doing since she’s married now and changed her name. But give me access to the internet and a telephone and no one can hide from me.”
Sophie hitched a breath. She knew from the darkening of his skin and the scowl on his face that he regretted the words as soon as they’d slipped from his lips.
“Sorry, Sophie.” He glanced her way and then back to the road.
“No problem.” Sophie tried to keep her voice light. “I hired you for those exact skills. I’m counting on you locating my dad, remember?”
He nodded but his demeanor suggested he continued to regret his thoughtlessness.
“So,” Sophie began, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood, “What did you say to her? Is she expecting us? Did she remember the picture? Did she remember my mother?”
“Whoa, Sophie. Time out.” Cain laughed. “I know you’re excited but you have to calm down.”
“I’m calm.” She tapped her foot in the passenger well. “Tell me. What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything.” Cain smiled indulgently. “I thought the conversation should be done in person. Sometimes body language is as important during an interview as the actual words a person speaks.”
Sophie nodded.
“I told her I was a private investigator and would greatly appreciate her help on a case. She’s as excited and curious as you are. Most people in Promise don’t get a telephone call like that every day. She’ll be burning up the phone lines the second we leave to share her fifteen minutes of fame.”
Cain had no sooner spoken those words than they saw a thin woman in her mid-fifties appear on the porch as they pulled up to the house. She patted her hair and straightened her skirt. Then she held her fingers over her eyes to block the sun as they exited the car.
“You must be Mr. Garrison,” she called, excitement evident in her voice. “You’re right on time. Come have a seat. I have coffee, tea, cookies.” She ushered them onto the porch and Sophie bit her lip to hide her grin at how accurate Cain had been about the woman without ever having met her.
“This is my associate, Ms. Clarkston,” Cain said as the three of them sat down. He accepted a cup of coffee and took a cookie from the offered plate. “We won’t take much of your time, Mrs. Carter.”
“Oh, my, that’s quite all right, young man.” Mrs. Carter offered the cookie plate to Sophie and then sat down opposite them. She perched on the edge of her seat, barely able to contain her curiosity. “I must admit I was surprised when I got your telephone call. I can’t imagine what important case you’re working on that I can help with.”
Sophie ducked her head and bit her lip harder. Somehow she didn’t think Cain had painted the picture with the same mystique and excitement that this woman’s own mind had conjured up. She just hoped that the woman’s memory was as active and intact as her imagination.
Cain sipped his coffee, put down the cup and then withdrew a photo from his jacket pocket. “Do you recognize this picture?”
The woman adjusted her glasses and took a long look at the picture.
“Of course I do. Wherever did you get this?”
Cain withheld the answer and asked, “Can you tell me about it? When was it taken? Or where?” He tapped the edges of the photo. “Do you remember the names of the other people in the picture with you?”
Mrs. Carter’s face twisted in concentration as she studied the photograph and then handed it back. “That picture was taken years ago out at the old Weatherly place. That’s me.” She pointed to a figure in the photo. “This is Elizabeth and this is Karen.” She sent Cain a questioning glance. “Why? What are you doing with this picture?”
“It belonged to my mother,” Sophie blurted. “Elizabeth Weatherly. Do you remember her?”
Mrs. Carter turned her attention to Sophie. She squinted her eyes. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know your mother. I had just met her earlier that day. My goodness, it had to be more than twenty years ago. I don’t see what it has to do with anything now.”
“Mrs. Carter.” Cain took back control of the interview. “Can you name the other woman in the photo with you?”
“Karen Anderson.”
“Does she still live in town?”
“No. Karen moved away years ago.” Mrs. Carter folded her hands on her lap and stared at Cain. “What’s this all about, anyway?”
Cain gave her his most endearing smile. “I’m doing some research for the Weatherly family. We’re focusing right now on Elizabeth and we’re only interviewing those special, close friends from days gone by.” He stopped talking and seemed to be letting his charming smile disarm any opposition the woman might have been having to his interrogation.
“Well, I don’t know where you got your information about me being a close friend but it’s wrong.”
Cain blinked but otherwise showed no reaction to her words.
“Karen invited me to join her at the Weatherly place for a swim. I had just met Elizabeth. She seemed like a nice enough girl but it really was the only time I’d ever met her.”
Another dead end.
“Really?” Cain crossed his ankle over his knee. “Didn’t you go to school together?”
“Not really. We never had any classes together. That picture was taken at the end of the summer. When school started in the fall, Elizabeth had already left.”
“Left?”
“Run off. Eloped. Depends on what town gossip you listen to.” She glanced over at Sophie. “Sorry, honey. But you must know this story already, considering you’re Elizabeth’s daughter.”
Cain leaned forward, drawing her attention. “Mrs. Carter, do you remember the name of the boy Elizabeth ran away with?”
Mrs. Carter rubbed her chin and stared into space. Finally she looked back at the two of them. “Sorry. Can’t say I do.”
She stared at Sophie and it was obvious from the expression on her face that she wondered why Sophie didn’t already have the information. “Besides, it wasn’t a boy. She ran off with a man. That’s what caused such an uproar. Your granddaddy called the sheriff. If I remember correctly, they had search parties scour the woods. Even put up roadblocks. But she had already disappeared.”
Cain braced himself as he glanced over at Sophie. He didn’t know how she’d bear up under another disappointment. But she surprised him. Other than the slight flush to her cheeks, she seemed composed, calm, accepting.
Cain stood. “Thanks, Mrs. Carter. I’m sorry we bothered you.”
“Oh, it was no bother.” The woman stood, smoothed her hair and smiled at them. “It isn’t every day a bona fide private investigator comes calling.”
Sophie thanked her and preceded Cain down the porch steps. They’d reached the car when Mrs. Carter called out.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“That’s okay,” Cain said. He waved at the woman as he opened his car door. Sophie had already slid into the passenger seat.
“If you still have questions, maybe you should ask the person who took the picture.”
Cain froze half in and half out of the car. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He plopped down on the seat and leaned his head out the window. “Do you remember who took the picture, Mrs. Carter?”
“Sure, I do. Martha Barker.”
“Are you sure?” Cain couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. He felt Sophie’s eyes fix on him.
“Of course I’m sure. She was a real shutterbug back then. You never saw Martha without a camera in her hands. She worked as a photographer for the school paper. I think she still lives in town. Maybe she’ll remember something about Elizabeth.”
“Thanks again, Mrs. Carter. You’ve been a big help.”
Sophie squirmed in the seat beside him but he admired the fact that she refrained from questioning him until they’d backed out of the driveway and were headed back to town.
Cain drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His mind raced in a thousand different directions.