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  Quinn glanced at the screen, and when he glanced up, he looked as if he could have spit nails. The annoyed expression on his face gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Carol received disturbing phone calls. And I’m not sure if they had anything to do with her death.” He cleared his throat. “Lyla, are you going around town discussing the Jane Doe cases up I-85? We heard all about your club’s theories from Amelia Klein.”

  “No. Well, the Jane Doe Book Club has been discussing them, but Carol has been our main concern. Then when y’all hauled Melanie away like a common criminal, it got us riled.”

  “She was hardly ‘hauled away.’ Officer Taylor merely gave her a ride to the station. She was never handcuffed or charged. We have to look at everyone.”

  “Noted, and I agree. Like with the Jane Doe case. A lot of us wonder if there’s a connection. It seems neither you nor your officers are taking into account how deep she was into those investigations. She told Amelia how scared she was and that she knew the identity of a particular Jane Doe.” I started to pull my phone from my pocket, when he touched my hand.

  “Carol Timms suffered from paranoia. And when you compile that personality type with the propaganda of those cases—well, it gets dicey.”

  Propaganda? “So, what you’re saying is you don’t believe there’s any connection. Have you even glanced at the cases? Because, you might be surprised if you do.” I shoved his hand away and produced my phone, ignoring his snort of protest. “See this? Look familiar?” He glanced at the image.

  “It’s a scarf.”

  “A scarf the exact colors and pattern as the one given to each majorette at our high school reunion. I received one, and so did Mel, Val, Ellen, and Carol.”

  He glanced at me, and I could tell he wasn’t impressed. “Lyla.”

  I shoved the phone back into my pocket. “Fine. So, instead of looking into every possibility, you focus on my father. You brought him down here to intimidate him after you discovered Carol had gone to him for treatment of said paranoia and experienced transference.” My eyes narrowed. “You actually believed you could break him. To convince him to compromise the doctor–patient confidentiality.” I scoffed, my resolve rushing back full force. “Well, you know as well as I do that Doctor James Moody doesn’t shake easily. Never would he violate his ethics. He has his attorney on speed dial at home and in his favorites on his cell phone for just such an occasion. He thinks of anything and everything. Seriously, Quinn, it’s lazy police work. Get a warrant instead of attempting to intimidate my family.”

  Quinn pierced me with his intelligent stare as he moved impossibly closer. I could detect the barest of hints of cologne. Ralph Lauren Polo Blue, the exact cologne I’d given him the Christmas before we’d split up. My heart raced, and my palms began to sweat. “This has nothing to do with my history with your family. I respect your father. Always have. I believe he’s an upstanding man of the community. Still, I have to do my job. I’m trying to remain objective here. If I allow bias to creep in, I’ll be unable to trust my findings.”

  That made complete sense, but I was rattled, agitated, and downright angry. “Is that why you had Officer Taylor show up at my house when I found Carol instead of showing up yourself?” The second the question fell from my lips, I regretted it.

  He flinched, and his fist clenched on the bench next to my leg.

  “Forget it.” I rose.

  He leaped to his feet, blocking my path.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I said.

  “I’d just gotten back into town. I’d been on a fishing trip and heard about it after the fact. Then I had to let Taylor work the case.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have to go.” I avoided his gaze and tried to maneuver around him on the tiny dirt path.

  He didn’t budge, and I slipped, nearly falling into the stream. Quinn grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back on the path. Our bodies were so close. Both our chests were heaving as I stared up into his eyes, which were rapidly searching mine. “If I’d intervened and taken the case from my officer, with this being the wife of a prominent judge, and with our history, it would’ve been perceived negatively. And I will not taint this case. My hands were tied. Can you please try and understand?”

  What was I doing? I sounded like a damsel hurt that her knight in shining armor hadn’t come to save her. I don’t need a damn knight. I pushed back, putting more space between us. I looked him straight in the face, irritated with myself. “I understand completely. You were doing your job. I can appreciate that. Expect it even. Because if you do your job, you’ll find the person who did this to Carol. I want to ask a question—if I may?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you have any other suspects in mind, other than your old friends from high school and my father?”

  He ran his hand through his brown hair and then dropped it, wiping his face of all emotion. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Maybe you think I killed her.”

  “Don’t be irrational.”

  Now I was angry. “Okay, so one of your official working theories is my father, a man above reproach in this community, would murder my friend and dislocate her joints.” His eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, your officer gave me a detailed description of what it would take to shove my … my friend into that suitcase”—I cleared my throat—“and leave her for me to find? All because she had a watch engraved for him.”

  His face flushed slightly.

  “The affair angle is unimaginative and moronic. Plus, he’d never do that to me. Torture me by delivering my friend to my house.”

  “Lyla—”

  I shoved right past him and marched up the path, past the covered bridge, into the parking lot, without looking back. I squared my shoulders and unlocked the door to my car. My mission now was to find out what transpired inside that little brick building called a police station.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Lyla! Yoo-hoo, Lyla, dear,” Mrs. Thelma Waters called from her front yard. Mrs. Waters lived next door to my parents. Next to her stood her friend Mrs. Ross, admiring her friend’s prize-winning begonias. Mrs. Waters took every opportunity to show off her property. Actually, she recited her memorandum to anyone who showed the slightest interest. The woman lived for the Sweet Mountain Pilgrimage tour every year.

  “Hello, ladies.” I paused at my car, closing the door softly; then I smiled and waved a finger at them. “We sure are having nice mild temps this year.”

  Mrs. Ross darted to her car and emerged with something large. The two women hurried around the azalea bed to precariously tiptoe through the grass, something that, under normal circumstances, was a cardinal sin among their kind. That was what walkways were for. Mrs. Waters’s neatly pressed beige slacks were wet at the hems, and her pearls bounced on her yellow cardigan. They slowed their advance, each with plastic smiles. Mrs. Ross held a gift basket.

  “Lyla, dear, how lovely to see you.” Mrs. Waters leaned in and gave me a single kiss on the cheek.

  “Preparing for the pilgrimage?” I smiled, feigning ignorance.

  “Well, I have worked in a new phrase.” She swept her arm toward her yard. “Feast your eyes on our magnificent two-story Greek revival, circa 1918, tucked peacefully among gorgeous Southern grounds of massive magnolias, towering oaks, mature pecan groves, and varieties of ageless, historic flowering shrubs, hedges, and plantings.”

  “Feast your eyes?” Mrs. Ross crinkled her nose.

  “Too much?”

  “Indeed.” Mrs. Ross turned her attention back to me. “Honey, we were so terribly sorry to hear about your troubles. Must’ve been a shock to find your friend the way you did. Your mother has been worried sick about you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It isn’t something easily recovered from, but I’m coping.” I adjusted my gray tunic and smoothed out my high ponytail before positioning myself between the ladies and the house. “Is there something I can do for you, ladies? Mother isn’t feeling well or I’d invite
you in.”

  Mrs. Ross’s mouth contorted in what I assumed meant sympathy. It was more reminiscent of a pucker. That reddish-brown lipstick did nothing but pull out the orange in her foundation, which had settled in the creases of her chin and neck.

  “Maybe you could give this to her.” She passed the basket full of beauty products over to me.

  “With pleasure. It’s so very kind of you both.” I studied the faces of the two women and saw genuine concern marred with something I’d call a little more than curiosity. I wondered if word of Daddy’s ordeal had already spread.

  “Think nothing of it.” Mrs. Waters clasped her hands in front of her pink mohair sweater and shook her head. Her nut-brown hair was curled so tightly it barely moved. “You let her know that if she needs us, we’ll drop everything and be over in a jiffy. With everything going on, she’s bound to need her friends close by.”

  “Mother is blessed beyond measure to have such caring friends. I’ll be sure to deliver your well wishes to her. She’ll be so pleased.” I gave them a brilliant smile. “Have a wonderful day.” I turned on my heel and started up the drive, suddenly realizing how much I’d learned from Frances Moody. Convey nothing of your distress and they’ll second-guess everything they’ve heard.

  I turned at the front door and waved again. The two women still stood in the driveway. Both ladies waved. Well, that was done—score one for the Moodys.

  “Calm down, Frances. I refuse to have a conversation with you when you’re behaving in such a sloppy manner,” my father was saying as I opened the front door and quickly slipped inside.

  “Sloppy. How dare you? My behavior didn’t land us in this mess. Yours did.”

  Oh no. I glanced around for Gran as I passed by the formal sitting room.

  Mother didn’t sound like herself. “James, I’ve put up with a lot in my life and managed to scrounge together a semblance of a well-adjusted, functioning life for myself and our daughter. I clawed my way out of the gutter, and I’ve never allowed my past to seep into my present. Lyla deserves nothing less. I refuse to allow you to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. You better come clean to me now, or, so help me God, if I find out—” A glass shattered.

  I stood still as a statue in the archway leading to the family room. A deluge of emotions overwhelmed me, and I had no idea how to react. Daddy had his hand on his forehead, and Mother was on the balls of her feet, with both fists clenched. Red wine streamed down the bricks of the fireplace; shards of glass were scattered on the hearth.

  “Don’t you turn your back on me, James Moody.” Mother hissed through her teeth as she reeled.

  I gave a soft intake of breath. Never in my life had I seen such a display. My mother had always had such control over herself. Both sets of eyes turned toward me.

  Mother’s shaking fingers went to her parted lips. Daddy dropped his hand and squared his shoulders as he attempted a smile. “Lyla, we didn’t see you there.”

  “I-I … I brought over a basket from Mrs. Ross.”

  My mother’s eyes were wild as she glanced from the shattered glass to me. Not wild—desperate. “Are you okay, Mother?”

  “She’s fine. Emotions are just running high.” Daddy put a hand on her shoulder, and she visibly fought her instinct to jerk away.

  “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

  I stood there, numbly staring after the ghost of the woman I knew while she made her way toward the back stairs.

  Once she’d gone, my blood began to boil as my father casually poured himself a scotch and sat in his armchair. He hadn’t even gone after her.

  How dare he!

  She’d given her entire life to him. She donated her time at his stupid hospital fundraisers, hosted his dinners, and made a home for us. She practically sacrificed her entire life to enrich ours. And he, fully aware of her past, hardly seemed bothered.

  “What did you do?” I bit out in a tone I’d never taken with my father before.

  “Lyla, please.”

  “Lyla nothing.” I dropped the basket on the sofa and stood several feet from him. I didn’t trust myself to go any further. His demurely calm demeanor fueled my anger. “You’re being a gigantic jackass!”

  His head whipped up, and he pierced me with his cool blue glare. Intimidation wouldn’t work.

  “I’ve always been on your side. Always. I heard all the hushed arguments during the night growing up. Kept silent about the archaic practices. No more! I know you haven’t been coming home some nights. And that Carol had some sort of thing for you.” I made sarcastic finger quotes around “thing.”

  “Yeah, girls talk. Surprise, surprise!” I wouldn’t throw Gran under the bus. “And the next thing we know, you’re being taken to the police station for questioning. Transference or not, there wasn’t a way to avoid such a scene? You couldn’t give them something to spare Mother more embarrassment?”

  His eyes narrowed in a silent dare for me to continue my rant. As if I were the one with the problem.

  Dare away! “Gran is beside herself, and now Mother is—well, coming unglued. So, I’ll ask you again, what in the hell did you do?”

  “Don’t talk to me that way, young lady. I won’t stand for it.” His tone dripped with warning. He sipped from his glass and then stared at the flickering fire.

  I didn’t budge. “Not this time. You want my respect? You’re going to have to earn it.”

  To my surprise, he sighed and waited a beat, running his hand through his hair. “It isn’t what you think. David Timms found out about his wife’s therapy. Apparently, she wrote my name down in several places in her address book and had a watch engraved with something like ‘You saved me, James. All my love.’ Or some nonsense. He assumed the worst.”

  He gulped the scotch. “I told Quinn I’d protect patient privilege until he presented me with a court order. My hands are tied when it comes to my practice.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That young officer Taylor is full of himself. He tried to strong-arm me. Pressure from Judge Timms.” He stared into the amber liquid. “William shut it down.”

  “That’s it?”

  He lifted his head; his eyes were hot. “I did not have an inappropriate relationship with your friend. I’m insulted you’d have to ask. Initially, I wasn’t even going to treat the woman, but she insisted. And she needed treatment.”

  “Why? There are plenty of other shrinks she could’ve seen. She could’ve even gone out of town to protect herself from being found out if she didn’t want the judge to know about it. Why you?”

  He took a deep breath. “She claimed she felt comfortable with me because I was your father. She had trust issues when it came to men. And she needed to be sure I wouldn’t violate her trust.” No wonder with the Neanderthal she was married to.

  My palms began to burn, and I unclenched my fingers. I hadn’t even realized I’d dug my nails in. I perched on the ottoman in front of him. “You swear to me nothing is going to come out? There isn’t the least bit of evidence to question impropriety?”

  “I swear.” Daddy’s gaze never left mine.

  I nodded. Okay, okay. “When they get a court order, and you’re forced to turn everything over, will it help them close the case?”

  He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Did she say anything about Kevin? Or the dumping grounds?”

  He raised his brows. “You’re referring to the news report about the Jane Doe found up I-85?”

  “Well, there are thirty Jane Does, to be exact, but yes, Carol believed she had information on a specific Jane. All this craziness began after she passed the information to my book club.”

  He studied me but said nothing.

  “She told me people believed she was paranoid,” I lied, and received no reaction. “And Amelia said she was petrified. I’ve known Carol for a long time. She never struck me as a paranoid or delusional person. Add that to the man I didn’t recognize with her that day at the gas station, followed by her body showin
g up on my front stoop, and we have a scary situation dumped into my lap.”

  Daddy reached out and took my hand. “Don’t go down any rabbit holes. Let the police do their jobs. If I wasn’t bound by privilege, I would have turned over everything this afternoon. My patients must be able to trust I will honor their privacy, no matter what.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze and sat back, rubbing his forehead—his one and only tell indicating his high stress levels.

  I could appreciate his dilemma. Still, Mother needed peace and security. It would’ve been nice if he could’ve made that a priority. I shook my head, and my shoulders slumped forward. “I won’t lie to you. I’m scared to death.”

  “Move back in here, sweetheart. I can’t keep you safe if you’re not under my roof. And I won’t lie to you either and say this situation doesn’t scare the hell out of me too.”

  I met my father’s gaze. I didn’t say he couldn’t protect me anymore. I had to protect myself. “You know I can’t do that.” I sighed. “Where’s Gran?”

  “Once I got home and reassured her, she caught a ride with Sally Anne. Tonight’s the widow’s banquet at the church.” He started to stand. “I better go check on your mother.”

  “No.” I rose. “Let me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As I mounted the steps, I mentally rehearsed the soothing words I could say to the woman who gave birth to me. I had a renewed appreciation for how she’d managed to start anew in order to give me a better life than she’d had. I’d always viewed my father as the strongest one in the family. Now, I knew different. She’d constructed her life to give me what she never had. Her defense mechanisms of never allowing people to get too close made complete sense to me now.

  I rounded the banister and walked down the hall, which was lined with a blue and beige runner, past half a dozen doors, toward my parents’ room. All along the hallway were family photos. Some of mother’s equestrian years when she was younger had always been favorites. She gave it up after I was born, and I never understood why.