Page 609 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

She would like to tell Kendall Fletcher that she and Emma had already met and had in fact been the best of friends. Furthermore, he would have been shocked to know how well acquainted she was with him. She thought back to her first official day in Stoney Creek when he’d replaced her flat tire. It was ironic that of all people, he’d been the one to stop. It was like fate was throwing them together. Even though she looked completely different, she’d halfway expected him to recognize her. It was a strange feeling to stand so close to someone she knew and have him think she was a complete stranger. Her face was this invisible cloak and no one could see the real her.

She shook her head and willed her mind to come back to the present. “I would love to, but I already have plans for tomorrow,” Sydney said. She’d promised to have lunch with Stella.

He frowned. Kendall was obviously used to getting his way.

She arched her eyebrow.

“Come Monday then.”

“Monday sounds good.”

“Good, it’s all settled.” He studied her face. “Would you like to get a closer look at the old coal mine building?”

“Sure.” She was having too much fun and didn’t want the date to end anytime soon.

“Well, what do you think?”

The building, constructed of wood and cinderblock, was nothing special in and of itself. It was the way it sat directly on the sparkling river—the faded roof—the aged wood—everything combined to give it an element of mystery, like she was peeking into a patch of the past that the present forgot to sweep away. “It’s hard to believe a place like this still exists.”

“I used to play here.” He pointed. “I’d climb on the roof and then dive into the river.”

She frowned. “Isn’t it too shallow?”

They were leaning against his bike, and he put his arm around her. “No, it’s great. Hey, too bad we didn’t bring our swimsuits. It’s a perfect day to go for a swim.”

A tight smile formed on her lips and she thought about her scar. She fought the urge to touch it. She’d lost count of the times she’d turned down invitations to swim parties. The vague explanations, last minute excuses. It all ran together. “Yeah, too bad.”

He traced his finger along the curve of her chin before bringing his lips to hers. A moment later, he pulled away from her. “I sure am glad you decided to come to Stoney Creek.”

She looked into his warm eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

He smiled and moved to get back on his bike. “Now you’d better hold on tight ’cause I’m fixin’ to take you on the ride of your life.”

11

“THE FULL SOUL LOATHETH AN HONEYCOMB; BUT TO THE HUNGRY SOUL EVERY BITTER THING IS SWEET.” —PROVERBS 27:7

Sydney maneuvered her jeep up the steep mountain. Her stay in Stoney Creek was definitely improving her driving skills. She was growing more comfortable and even starting to enjoy the way the jeep hugged the narrow windy roads. She glanced at the clock on her dash, a quarter to six. Hopefully, she would catch Walter at home. The motorcycle ride had been relaxing. It was after three o’clock when she got home. She’d then changed clothes and gone for a quick run.

It’s funny how far away Walter’s place seemed when she was a kid. Now she realized it was only a thirty-five minute drive from town. She felt the familiar loneliness sweep over her. She would always jump at the chance to drive up to Walter’s house with Avery.

She pulled into the circular drive and sat for a few minutes, admiring the two-story gray house with its large windows. Her eyes followed the sharp angles of the steep pitched roof that afforded the house a sense of grandeur. The exterior, a mixture of stone and wood, was in keeping with the woodsy surroundings. The view was the crowning pinnacle. It was just as magnificent as she remembered. Walter’s house was situated so close to the edge of the bluff that it looked like it was digging itsheels into the solid rock to keep from being toppled over the side by the sheer weight of itself. The back of the house was made up almost entirely of glass, providing a panoramic view of the glittering lake below.

She got out of her jeep and followed the stepping-stones leading to the front of the house. A white Cadillac caught her eye. Sydney smiled. She remembered Avery talking about how much Walter liked his toys. From the looks of things, not much had changed. In Judith’s circle of friends, Sydney had seen her share of expensive homes, but she had to admit that Walter’s set-up rivaled some of the best.

Walter had worked at the sawmill with Avery. She knew that Walter could have never afforded a place like this on a general manager’s salary and wondered if he’d come into an inheritance. Or maybe he was a savvy investor.

The bittersweet memories that seeped into her blood were as tantalizing and unsatisfying as dry water. Memories of running wild and free without a care in the world. Memories of being swept up in the comfort of Avery’s safe arms. It was all so close. So close she could almost close her eyes and touch him. The water, sparkling in the distance looked so wet and inviting, but she could never get to it. She was here where it was dry, thirsting for something that could never be quenched.

She willed her mind to be quiet, pushed once on the doorbell, and waited.

Maurene opened the door and looked Sydney up and down. Sydney could tell that there was no trace of recognition in her cool eyes. “May I help you?”

Sydney smiled politely and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Sydney Lassiter, the new safety coordinator at the sawmill. I’m here to see Walter.” Rather than shaking Sydney’s hand, Maurene took a step back. Sydney’s hand hung in mid-air for a second until she dropped it to her side.

“Come on in and have a seat. I’ll get Walter.”

Sydney nodded and stepped into the foyer. She tried to remember if Maurene had always been this unfriendly. Her hair was still bleached blonde, or rather white. Maurene had always been fastidious about getting her hair set at the beauty shop every three days. She never washed and styled it herself. From the looks of her, Sydney figured that was still the case. She was an inch shorter than Sydney with a trim figure except for a slight round belly. She was wearing white pleated shorts and a sleeveless red button-up shirt with a collar. Even though Maurene was thin, she was out of shape. Her legs jiggled like jelly when she walked. Her white open-toed sandals revealed blood-red toenails that matched her fingernails. Maurene had aged tremendously. Her face was bloated, and the lines around her eyes and mouth were deep. Then again, it had been ten years since Sydney had seen her. She remembered Avery saying that Maurene was a lot shrewder than she acted. From the looks of things, she wasn’t so sure.

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