Page 646 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Anyways, I went down there and told them people that I wanted to know all the things they’d been teaching my Buford.” She chuckled. “After they picked their jaws up off the floor, they started teaching me. Little by little, the darkness in me started to fade until one day I came home and opened my curtains and let in the light. I’ve been going toward it ever since.” She looked at Sydney and saw that her eyes were as moist as her own.

“Thank you. That was a beautiful story.” Sydney stood, and Mrs. Phillips picked up on her cue and stood as well. “I have to get back to work.” Sydney reached in her purse and retrieved a folded sheet of paper that contained her cell phone number. “If you think of anything, will you call me?”

Mrs. Phillips nodded.

Sydney took a step out the door before Mrs. Phillips stopped her. “There is something else.”

Sydney turned.

“Buford tried to tell me something before he died.” Mrs. Phillips shook her head. “I couldn’t understand him.” She leveled her eyes with Sydney’s. “I do know Buford was worried about some of the men at the mill. I’m afraid he was involved in something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Buford was tryin’ to straighten out his life. I think he tried to get out and was kilt because of it.” The words came out in a hushed tone, as if Mrs. Phillips were speaking them for the very first time.

“Did he ever mention any names?”

Mrs. Phillips searched her memory. “The only thing he ever mentioned was that this one feller whistled the same tune all the time. It like to of drove Buford crazy.”

“And you think this man was involved?”

Mrs. Phillips nodded. “I’m sure of it. Buford used to meet him at the sawmill late at night. Some nights I’d stay up till four in the morning walking the floors till he got home.”

“And you don’t know this man’s name?”

“No, I don’t think I ever knew—only that he whistled all the time.”

Sydney clasped Mrs. Phillips’ hand. “Thank you. If you remember anything else, please let me know.”

Mrs. Phillips watchedSydney walk to her jeep. She wasn’t sure what in the tarnation had possessed her to tell that young girl all them things. Things she’d never told another living soul.

She stood in this same door all those years ago and watched Buford leave, and somehow knew she would never see him again. Many considered her premonitions a gift, but to her it was a curse. Mrs. Phillips closed the door and tried to push away the nagging fear.

Sydney was in danger.

22

“WRATH IS CRUEL, AND ANGER IS OUTRAGEOUS: BUT WHO IS ABLE TO STAND BEFORE ENVY?” —PROVERBS 27:4

Sydney heard a single knock, then the door opened and Sean let himself in. He walked over and sat in his usual spot on the edge of her desk.

She turned in her chair. His nearness heightened her senses, like every inch of her body was standing at attention, but she didn’t want to show it, especially not after he’d humiliated her the other night.

“It’s Friday afternoon, Syd. Aren’t you ready to get out of this place? I thought you’d be anxious to get home and get all dolled up for the game so you could cheer on the famous coach.”

“What I do on my own time is my business.”

His eyebrow arched. “It was just a simple observation, that’s all.”

She studied his face and then relaxed. Why was she always so sensitive where Sean O’Conner was concerned? He was probably just trying to make conversation. “Well, if you must know, I’m getting your stuff ready for the safety training meeting on Monday.”

Sean picked up a pencil from her desk and began fiddling with it. “I’m so glad you’re keeping me on track.”

Sydney knew she’d touched a nerve and braced herself for the backlash. It never came though. In fact, it was fascinating to watch how quickly the irritation faded. His voice became conversational again. “Hey, I just want to talk to you a minute about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Depot Days. I think you ought to be there.”

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