Fear Familiar Bundle (41 page)

"They were asking for Ellen."

Cassandra paused. In a corner, tucked out of sight, were two pay phones for the employees. Pans clattered and dishwashers roared so that Sarah, who held the receiver to her ear, was almost shouting.

"No, I've never seen either of them. Look, they upset me. They said you were in danger. I'm not going to be part of this anymore. You'd better get in here to work, 'cause I'm not going to cover for you." There was a pause. "Well, break the date. Tell Romeo to get up a little earlier and meet you for lunch instead."

The receiver was slammed back on the silver prong, and before Cassandra could make an escape, Sarah stepped away from the phone and rammed into her.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?" Sarah asked. She glared at Cassandra. "Guests aren't allowed in the kitchen."

"I don't care who your friend is. I don't care what she does, except that if she sees the man she's been dating again, he is going to kill her."

Cassandra knew her words sounded like the ravings of a crazy woman.

"Listen, lady, I've had enough of you." Sarah waved her hand. "Hey, Freddie! Come here!"

A burly cook with arms the size of small hams hurried to her side. "What's the problem, Sarah?" He gave Cassandra a belligerent look that meant trouble.

"This woman and her friend have been bothering me. She followed me back here and eavesdropped on my phone conversation."

"There's only one way to fix this," the big man said. He wiped his hands on his apron. "I'm calling the sheriff."

"Wait," Cassandra said quickly. "I'm only trying to help. I promise."

"You're trying to intimidate me and my friend," Sarah said. "I don't play these kinds of games." She looked at the cook. "Call the sheriff."

"Harassment is a serious charge." Sheriff Beaker rubbed the bridge of his nose as he pushed up his glasses. "Ms. McBeth, I don't know why you've decided to make a public nuisance of yourself, but this is the worst time you could have chosen. My men are worn out from working two murders. I'm up all night, and when I do get a few minutes to sleep, the telephone rings off the hook with mothers who're worried about their daughters. We've been getting calls from all over the United States."

"I explained the dream to you. If Ellen isn't dead now, she will be soon." Cassandra clasped her hands in her lap.

"There is no Ellen," Beaker said impatiently. "Ms. Welford— Sarah— insists that she doesn't know anyone by that name. She gave a sworn statement."

"She was talking to her on the telephone," Cassandra insisted. She leaned forward in her chair. "I'm not crazy, and I'm trying to stop a murder, not make trouble for you."

"The manager and the other waitresses all said there was no Ellen working there." Beaker's patience was growing thin.

"Maybe the woman's using a fake name." Cassandra stood up. "I can describe her perfectly, if you and your men would help me hunt for her."

"Stay out of this." Beaker stood up, too. "Now I'm going to let you go home, but I want your promise that you'll stay out of Gatlinburg for a few days."

"I can't promise," Cassandra said stubbornly. "I…"

"Ms. McBeth will remain at her home," Adam said. He stood and went to Cassandra's side. "Whatever you need in town, I'll take care of for you."

"I didn't hire you to baby-sit me," she snapped.

"Well, you might be thankful that someone is willing to assume responsibility for you," Beaker said. "I've had about all of this witchy stuff I can stand." He turned to Adam as if Cassandra had suddenly vanished from the room. "I try to be a tolerant man. As long as I've known Ms. McBeth she's been a local oddity, but never any serious trouble. There's been talk about her— " he looked at her slowly "— instability, but she's always minded her own business and let the town mind its own. That's the way it has to stay. For her own safety."

Adam didn't like the implied threat in the sheriff's tone, but he knew that argument was futile. Cassandra had put her whole heart into trying to explain her dreams to Beaker. He didn't buy into it at all. There was really nothing else to be said.

"Cassandra?" Adam held out his hand to her. "It's time to go home."

She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. Without another word she followed him from the sheriff's office, almost like a child.

When they were clear of the courthouse and on the sidewalk, she snatched her hand free. "Don't you ever speak to me in that condescending tone again," she whispered hoarsely. "I've never been so humiliated in all my life."

"You would have been more humiliated if he'd put you in a cell in that courthouse."

"He wouldn't have done that. He couldn't have. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Except harassment."

"Oh, please!" she said, totally exasperated. "I did not harass that woman, and you know it."

"But he could have charged you, just to teach you a lesson." Adam put his arm around her shoulders and directed her toward his car. "Let's forget this whole incident and think of a new plan. We missed following Sarah since we had to come to the courthouse. Maybe someone else at Crockett's will know where she lives."

"I can't go back in there," Cassandra said bleakly. "They won't let me back in." The tiniest glint of humor touched her unhappy eyes. "I shouldn't have swung that frying pan at that big oaf, but
he
shouldn't have put his hands on me."

"I'm glad I didn't see it," Adam said with sincere relief. "Very glad. But the fact remains that
I
can go back in the restaurant."

"And I can wait in the car?" It was torture, pure and simple, to be forced to sit and do nothing.

Adam eased the car back into Crockett's parking lot. With a sympathetic smile, he left the motor running and the radio playing softly. Before Cassandra could object, he leaned over and kissed her pouting lips. "Keep a sharp eye on the parking lot while you're sitting around. You might see something worth knowing."

He walked across the asphalt and disappeared inside the restaurant.

Dutifully, Cassandra began an exploration of the cars in the lot. She remained in Adam's car, but she scouted the area. She was about to say her task was futile when she noticed a small convertible in a far corner. The dark car was parked under a tree, almost obscured by the dense shadows. Something about the car triggered Cassandra's memory.

When Ellen and the man had been driving up the mountain, the wind had blown her hair back, revealing her neck and ears. It had been a ragtop, Cassandra was certain of that! Surely there were thousands of convertibles in the state of Tennessee, but this one was parked here. She slipped from the car and began a slow weave among the parked vehicles, making sure she crouched low.

She had to get a look at the car. Maybe there was a clue she'd remember, some portion of the interior. The least she could do would be to get the license plate number.

Gravel scuffled beneath her feet, and she stopped to listen for the sounds of anyone about. Her actions were impetuous, she knew, but they were also necessary. Besides, what harm was there in looking at a car, even if she were caught? There wasn't a law against admiring a vehicle.

As she drew closer, she could see that the car was dark blue, a midnight color that reflected the stars. Expensive paint job, expensive car. She was three cars away when she heard the voices.

"I'm afraid, Ray."

Cassandra immediately recognized the waitress Sarah's voice.

"Come on, baby, you're not the type to get so shook up over nothing." The man's voice was soft, persuasive.

"You don't understand. They followed me. She did, anyway, back into the kitchen. She looked wild. She was talking like a crazy woman about someone getting hurt and those awful murders."

"So, you said she was a local with an odd reputation. I've worked with some of those fortune-tellers, and they are weird." He laughed softly. "I never could tell if they acted that way deliberately, you know, for effect, or if they couldn't help it."

"She scared me."

He chuckled. "So you called the sheriff."

"Yeah." She laughed, too. "I never thought I'd see the day when I called a lawman. Especially not since I met you."

They laughed together, a warm, intimate sound.

"See there, you're feeling better already."

"Because you came," Sarah said. "You always make me feel better, Ray. How long do you think you'll be in town?" A note of sadness entered her voice.

"Another three weeks at least. The take has been good. I'm trying to talk the boss into staying longer. Gatlinburg is a great place for us. Tourists flooding in left and right. New folks every day." He grinned. "New suckers. By the way, thanks for loaning me that cash. The information I got in that note is worth a fortune. You'll get your money before we pull out."

"I know, I'm not worried about it. When you leave here, where will you go?" Sarah's voice sounded already as if she missed him.

"The plan is to head up the East Coast and across the northern states. It's easier up there in the summer. We swing south for fall and into Florida for the winter."

"I've never been out of this state," Sarah said softly. "One day I'm going to travel."

"Come with me and I'll show you the world," Ray said, his voice taking on the tones of a performer.

"Right now, that sounds like a tempting offer. Do you mean it?"

"I don't think the road is the life for you, Sarah."

There was the briefest pause. When Sarah spoke again, her voice was brisk. "Yeah, you're right. I've got my own life here, and it isn't so bad. Now I'd better get back inside or I won't have a job. Thanks for coming to talk with me."

"Don't let that woman bother you. It really isn't any of your business what your friends do."

"You're probably right." Doubt had returned to Sarah's voice. "It's just that if something bad happened to her, I'd feel it was my fault."

"She's a big girl. Let her handle her own affairs."

"I did warn her never to bring anyone home. I just wish she wouldn't go riding around with that guy. She doesn't know him. He's strange, too. He always makes some excuse for not meeting at the restaurant, like he don't want to be seen. Like maybe I'd know him."

"That's really jumping to a conclusion." Ray's voice was tense. "Women come up with the damnedest ways of thinking about things. Maybe he's just busy, you know."

"I don't think so. Maybe he's married."

"Quit looking for trouble." There was a warning in Ray's voice. "You might find it."

"I've learned to take care of myself." Resentment was evident in Sarah's voice. "I've gotta get back inside."

Ray laughed. "Don't stay mad, Sarah. I'll be here when you get off work. You promised me some fun tonight. I'm taking you to the fair. Maybe you can forget your troubles on one of the rides." His laugh was confident.

Cassandra crouched almost to the pavement. Looking around the bumper of a little compact, she saw Sarah walk out from under the big tree and head for the restaurant. Her back was erect, angry as she walked away. Cassandra held her breath. All she needed was to get caught spying on the waitress again. Sheriff Beaker would follow through on his threat and put her in jail.

The man Sarah had been talking with remained in the shadows. Rocks and grit digging into her palms, Cassandra waited. She had to get a look at him. There had been something in his behavior, something sinister. Did he care for Sarah? Cassandra got the impression that he did not. Just why, she couldn't say.

Footsteps scruffed closer to her and she pressed against the body of the car.

"Well, well," the man called Ray said softly. He whistled in the night, and even though Cassandra couldn't see him, she thought he was admiring the convertible.

A car door opened and slammed. Cassandra dared a look and saw Ray sitting behind the driver's wheel of the car. In a quick glance, she saw that his hair was overly long and straight. Thick, heavy hair. His shoulders were broad, very muscular. Ray was a man who built his body, structured it as an architect would design a building. She could see the bulge of his biceps as he threw a long arm over the back of the passenger seat, enjoying the feel of the car.

In a fluid movement, he sprang out from behind the wheel and landed beside the car. She could not clearly see his face, but she couldn't ignore the perfection of his body. Narrow waist and hips tapered down to strong legs. Whatever Ray did, he had plenty of time for himself, she thought, and plenty of that special discipline necessary to work on his appearance.

Narcissism? Taken to the extreme, it could be a sign of unbalance.

The kind of unbalance that led a man to kill women for pleasure?

She backed slowly around the car, her hands and feet inching in increments that made her leg muscles scream. Ray frightened her. He was so sure of his own physicality, his own prowess. Inch by painful inch, she made her way back to Adam's car. She eased in the door, closed it softly and then locked both doors and threw herself across the seat.

Her heart pounded as she waited for Adam's return.

It seemed like an eternity before she heard a fumbling at the locked door. She chanced a look, relieved to see Adam peering in the car window.

She sprang the lock and sat up.

"Napping?" he asked because he couldn't see the fright on her face.

"Sarah was out here with some man. Adam, I got some bad feelings from him."

"I checked the entire restaurant and didn't see her. Or anyone who looked like the Ellen you described. None of the waitresses would even talk with me. They served me coffee and avoided me like the plague."

"There's a car, a convertible, parked under the tree at the west end of the parking lot. I wanted to get the license number, but I got frightened and left."

"I can get it," Adam said quickly. "If you really think it's important."

"Watch out for the bodybuilder who was hanging around it. His name is Ray, and he gives me some bad feelings."

"I'll be back in a minute." He gave her a stern look. "You stay put."

Cassandra counted to three hundred, slowly, before Adam returned.