The child made a dash for Marsha. She bent to hug him, then straightened to speak to Shane. “Jamie’s in 6-B, down this first hallway.”
“Why tell me? I’m waiting right out here.”
“I know. That’s what I told her. I...” She scowled. “I’m just worried about her, that’s all.”
“You have too soft a heart, Mom.”
“Don’t give me that much credit, honey. When she first told me who she was, I didn’t have very Christian thoughts.”
“Yeah, well, I still don’t.” He spoke quietly, leaning closer. “Be very careful what you tell her. She can be trouble. She’s already caused plenty.”
“Is that her fault?” Marsha asked. “I mean, all she’s doing is asking questions about why her brother was sent to prison. If there’s nothing wrong with his conviction, why does it look like somebody’s really upset with her? Maybe she’s onto something.”
Shane’s eyebrows arched. “Are you serious? How can you even think of anybody reopening Dad’s case? Didn’t it hurt enough fourteen years ago?”
The look in his mother’s eyes and the slight droop of her shoulders told him he’d overstepped. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that misery again.”
“It won’t be the same,” Marsha explained. “I’m not the same. It’s hard to explain. All I can say is that your father’s death affected me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.”
“You did seem to take it better than I’d expected.”
She smiled slightly and nodded. “I had my moments. Still do. Once in a while, some thought or outside trigger will set me off and I can’t stop crying.”
“You never told me that.”
“Of course not. You had your own grief when you were younger, and then your marriage crashed. Why would I add worry about my crazy feelings if I didn’t have to?”
“Because I care?”
“Of course you do. I still miss your dad every day, yet I know it’s foolish to grieve the way I did when he first left this world.”
“Which is why you’re okay with that woman digging up the past?”
“That’s part of it.” Shane saw her countenance harden. “The other part is personal. I want to know who killed my Sam as much as she does.”
“We know who did it.”
“Do we?” Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. “If Sam had been able to investigate that hit-and-run himself, I wonder who he’d have arrested.”
FIVE
Jamie Lynn managed to shampoo the last tiny shards out of her hair, then gave it a careful combing. That was one good thing about safety glass. It broke into pieces that didn’t have very sharp edges.
Glad to be back in her own clothing, she smoothed the hem of her red T-top over the hips of white linen slacks and slipped into her sandals. Although the spring day had been warm, she expected a cooler evening so she grabbed a light sweater.
Ulysses began to dance at the door when he saw her pick up her shoulder bag.
“Yes, you get to go,” she said with a smile. “And play with that nice little boy again.”
Truth to tell, she wished she were headed for a pleasant evening of socialization instead of an inquest. Marsha was a lovely person. And the child was darling.
Jamie set her jaw. His daddy wasn’t bad, either, once you got past the chip on his shoulder. Before he’d learned her identity, he’d been pleasant. Tender. Even joyful, particularly when he’d gone out of his way to catch and look after Useless-Ulysses. The mistake took her by surprise. Made her shake her head and grin. That man had gotten under her skin, all right. It would be nice if his current presence didn’t feel like a touch of poison ivy.
Still smiling and thinking about rejoining Shane in the parking lot, she scooped up her little dog, tucked him under one arm and pulled the door to her room shut with a bang.
Ulysses stilled. The beginning of a growl made his tiny body vibrate.
Jamie Lynn froze. Listened. Waited to see what her pet sensed that she had missed noticing.
The nape of her neck prickled. Goose bumps tingled along her arms and a shiver traced her spine. She was not alone.
Slowly swiveling her neck, she glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye. Before she could get a better look, a meaty hand clamped over her mouth and a deep voice rumbled, “Don’t make a sound.”
At that point the command was unnecessary because Jamie’s voice failed her. Simply drawing breath was hard enough. Fear paralyzed her. Stole strength from her limbs and thoughts from her mind.
“You need to leave town,” the man ordered.