Page 62 of Obsession

“We discussed that with the current sheriff, Nate Rawlings. Whoever killed him must have driven it up there to make it look like he’d left the Natchez area. He, and we’re assuming it’s a male, either rode the bus back to Natchez, or he could have rented a car.”

“Or he had a partner.”

The words hung in the car. Sam hadn’t considered two people might be involved. That put a new spin on the case. “I’m planning to canvass the car rentals in Memphis to see if their records go that far back.”

“That would be a miracle,” Bell said. “I’ll go to the office after church tomorrow and scan the report and email a copy to you. And if there’s anything else I can do to help, just let me know.”

“We will,” Sam said, and Emma disconnected. Her face held so much hope, making his stomach clench. There were so many possibilities. And ten years had passed. He feared finding any kind of trail, much less a paper trail, would be next to impossible.

30

He had kept two cars between him and Sam’s SUV all the way from Mount Locust to a house in Jackson that belonged to Dina Winters. Emma was a good daughter, spending time with her mother, but he would expect no less from her. And now he was following them back to Natchez.

It had thrown him off when Sam pulled into the pullout. But it was dark and he’d driven to the next historical marker and waited for them in his pickup. Twenty minutes later, the ranger’s SUV passed by, and when the taillights disappeared around a curve, he fell in behind them again.

Emma would have asked him to take her to Jackson, he knew that, but she didn’t want to cause people to whisper about them.What about Sam and Emma? Won’t people whisper about them?He brushed the thought away. They were both rangers. Everyone would assume they were working together on something.

Besides, Emma wasn’t interested in Ryker. She didn’t send him Facebook posts every day and never looked at the ranger the way she looked at him. He plucked a box from the console and flipped the top open. A two-carat diamond sparkled under the lighted dash. She would be so pleased when he gave it to her.

What if he’d accidentally shot her last night? He’d been aiming at Ryker, but he shuddered at how close it had come to Emma. Pain stabbed his head as the beginning of a migraine started.Maybe he’d go home instead of following them to Emma’s apartment.

No. Not knowing whether Ryker would attempt to kiss her when he took her to the door would torment him. Not that she would let him, but the ranger might force himself on her. And then he could save her.

The headache intensified as mile after mile passed. They approached Mount Locust, and the SUV ahead of him slowed and swung into the entrance. He could do nothing but drive on by. Maybe Ryker would simply make a loop and reenter the Trace, so he slowed. When the car lights didn’t reappear, he swore. Only one thing to do. Drive to his spot near Emma’s apartment and wait. He should even have time to stop and get a coffee. Maybe that would get rid of the headache.

Forty-five minutes later, he’d almost finished the coffee when the ranger’s SUV pulled in front of the apartment house, and Ryker escorted Emma to the front door. Wait. He was going in.

He held his breath as her living room light came on, providing him with a front-row seat. The ranger crossed out of his line of sight while Emma stayed in front of the window. Then he returned and—

No!

It was like watching an accident about to happen and just as impossible to take his gaze away from as Sam took Emma in his arms. He gripped the Styrofoam cup, crushing it.

31

Emma sat on her sofa in the dark, her third cup of coffee in her hands as her clock chimed six times. Sam had checked out her apartment when he dropped her off around eleven last night, and then hugged her and left. A platonic hug. Why had she wished it’d been more?

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Sleep had been fitful, and when the clock rolled over to 4:00 a.m., she’d given up and climbed out of bed. What little shut-eye she’d gotten had been marred with dreams of walking the woods around Mount Locust, calling Ryan’s name. She sipped her coffee, now bitter and lukewarm. Regret tasted just as bitter, especially when it was laced with anger.

Emma set the cup on the table and leaned her head back. If she could just get a catnap ... She jerked her head up. A board in the hallway outside her door creaked as though protesting someone’s weight. Maybe it was her neighbor Greg on his way to his morning run. She checked her watch. She’d dozed for forty-five minutes. Then she frowned. Greg never ran this early on Sunday, not before the sun rose.

Emma cocked her head, listening for more sounds. It’d probably been her imagination. She needed more coffee. After Emma poured another cup, she popped it into the microwave for thirty seconds. Halfway back to the sofa, she froze. A card had beenshoved under her door. She jerked the door open, pulling the envelope with it. Dr. Gordon Cole whirled around, his eyes wide. “Emma?”

Was that guilt on his face? Had he left the note? And the flowers? “Gordy? I mean Gordon.” He stared at her, and amusement crossed his face. She looked down at her Minnie Mouse pajamas. “Ah, did you see anyone else in the hallway?”

“No.”

The answer came almost too quickly. “What are you doing here?”

Red crept into his face. “I, ah...” He stared at his feet.

The door to the efficiency apartment at the end of the hallway opened, and her neighbor stepped out. “Gordon?” Taylor said, a look of puzzlement on her face. “I heard voices, but I thought you’d left.”

Realization dawned. So the doc and her neighbor were an “item.” Emma had heard Gordon had gotten married right out of college, and hadn’t realized he’d divorced until he returned to Natchez last year, single and looking. While he didn’t interest her, Gordon Cole was a hunk, in a California sort of way, tanned, blond haired, and blue eyed.

While Emma didn’t know Taylor that well, the girl was barely out of college and at least a decade younger than the doc.None of my business.If she made Gordy happy, what did age matter?

The doctor’s face had turned crimson now. “I stopped to listen to a voicemail and answer a text,” he said, answering Taylor.

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