Page 673 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Sydney’s whole body was trembling. She would never know for sure but thought it was the same beat-up Chevy she’d seen at The Jam Session.

31

“THE LIPS OF TRUTH SHALL BE ESTABLISHED FOREVER: BUT A LYING TONGUE IS BUT FOR A MOMENT.” —PROVERBS 12:19

Sydney stared past the mountain of paperwork on her desk. She had a ton of work to do and hadn’t been able to concentrate on any of it. Last night’s incident was still too fresh on her mind, and she kept seeing the taillights of the beat-up Chevy racing off in the rain. She’d almost called the police but decided against it. What good would it do? She’d called them after Avery’s journal was stolen, and all they did was put her through the third degree, making her feel like she was the one to blame—or worse: crazy. She conjured up a picture of the young officer with the pasty face and crew cut. She could hear him now. There would be a hint of condescension in his voice and a look of pity in his eyes. “Let me get this straight, Miss Lassiter. Are you telling me that a truck nudged your bumper and caused you to run off the road? Are you sure you didn’t just run off the road on your own? After all, it was raining pretty hard last night and you were going awfully fast down the mountain.” She shook her head and massaged her neck. No, she wouldn’t call the police.

She turned her chair toward the window. The mishmash of fall colors outside would have been a feast for the eyes on another occasion. She watched a gust of wind send a pile of leaves spiraling in the air. Spiraling. That’s what her thoughtswere doing. Who had been driving that truck? And why? Why did he race around her? Whoever it was was toying with her. Otherwise, he would have stuck around long enough to try and cause her to have a serious accident. She shuddered. Or a fatal accident. There were so many unanswered questions. Was this attack initiated by Lewis? Or did it have to do with her suspicion of drug use at the mill? Maybe she was being attacked by the person who stole the journal. She was a blind sitting duck.

The ringing of her phone brought her to the present. Barb’s voice sounded in the speaker. “Sydney, Louellen’s on line one.”

“Thanks, Barb.” Sydney reached for the phone. “Hello?”

“Sydney, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s about Hazel.”

Sydney straightened in her chair. “Is she all right?”

“Her cat has climbed up in a tree, and we can’t get it to come down. She keeps saying, ‘Call Sydney. She’ll know what to do.’”

Sydney rubbed her forehead. “Have you tried opening a can of tuna and putting it at the bottom of the tree?”

“Would you believe? We have. We’ve tried everything short of calling the fire department.”

Sydney glanced at her watch—4:30. “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks so much.”

The first thing Sydney saw when she pulled in her driveway was Hazel, wringing her hands. She hopped out of the jeep. “I’ll be right over,” she said to Louellen. “Let me put on a pair of sweats.”

When Sydney came out, Hazel was walking circles around the tree. “Sydney will know what to do. She can get Dixie down,” she kept repeating. When she saw Sydney coming across the yard, she ran and threw her arms around her. “Please get Dixie down for me, Sydney.”

Sydney smiled, trying to release herself from the tight embrace. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ll get him.”

“I’m sorry we don’t have a ladder,” Louellen said, managing a weak smile, but her eyes were strained and Sydney guessed she was at her wits end.

Sydney grabbed the lowest branch and heaved herself up. “Not a problem.” She nimbly climbed higher toward Dixie. “Here kitty, kitty. Come here, Dixie.”

Dixie was hunkered down on the very edge of one of the top branches and had no intention of moving. From the looks of her, holding on for dear life, she figured Dixie was as terrified at the situation as Hazel was. She’d have to climb to the very top to retrieve her.

A few minutes later, Sydney descended from the tree and handed Hazel her cat. She watched Hazel bury her nose in the Dixie’s orange fur, hugging her like she was a long-lost family member. Maybe she hadn’t accomplished what she wanted to by coming to Stoney Creek, but she’d definitely made a difference in Hazel’s life.

Louellen touched Sydney’s arm. “Thank you so much.”

Sydney smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, surprised by the emotion that was forming a lump in her throat.

Louellen took charge. “Hazel, let’s get you and Dixie inside so y’all can take a nap. Sydney, won’t you come in and have something to drink?”

Sydney shrugged. “Sure.”

It didn’t take long for Louellen to get Hazel settled down. Afterwards, Sydney and Louellen sat in the living room. All the while Sydney tried to figure out how to broach the subject of Lewis Jackson. She liked Louellen and dreaded the reaction that her questions were sure to generate.

“You’re quite the climber.”Sydney laughed.

“Yes, it’s a hobby of mine.”

---