Fear Familiar Bundle (45 page)

"I can't believe that he would," Running Stream answered. "But— " she held out the earring "— this tells me otherwise. I believe your dream, Cassandra. I believe this is the earring of a dead woman. And I want to know what my son was doing with it in his possession."

"That's something we both need to find out," Cassandra agreed.

A
DAM LEANED AGAINST
the white oak tree. To a casual observer, he looked as if he were taking a break on a beautiful early spring afternoon. The beauty of the small town shimmered in the afternoon light. Only a careful observer would have seen the surreptitious glances he threw at the back door of city hall.

Sheriff Beaker, Police Chief Charles Haggin and another man Adam didn't know had all disappeared into the office. Adam wanted a word alone with Beaker. He was ready to punch out the lawman's lights for the harebrained scheme of putting Cassandra on television. If he couldn't stop Cassandra from doing it, then he wanted to make sure that Beaker was good for his promise of protection.

His wait was rewarded when Beaker and the unknown man came out of the door. As soon as they crossed the street, Adam followed. He couldn't help but notice that the second man was well built. He was in his mid to late thirties, Adam guessed, but he could easily be taken for ten years younger at first glance.

He walked with a spring in his step that embodied fitness. Beaker was fit, also, but he lacked the buoyancy of his companion.

Adam had hoped for a private moment with the sheriff, but as he followed, he could see the two men were headed for a local coffee shop. He closed the distance between them, intending to stop Beaker. It might work to his advantage to have a witness to what he intended to say.

"What about that muscle man the mountain witch mentioned?" the stranger asked.

Adam instinctively dropped back, waiting to hear more. The mention of Cassandra's name, especially in such a derogatory reference, made him want to hear as much as possible.

"No leads, yet. We don't even have enough information to make a case for deliberate homicide. My personal belief is that some drunk hit her on the side of the road. Anyway, we're going to stake out Ms. Welford's funeral this afternoon." Beaker checked his watch. "In an hour or two."

"The boyfriend didn't even come by to ask if you'd found any leads?" The other man shook his head. "Some boyfriend."

"No, Ken, he didn't. If he was her boyfriend, he wasn't the kind who stays around in times of trouble."

Beaker's humor produced a short laugh from his companion. "That's too bad. I liked Sarah. I'd known her for a couple of years from Crockett's. Her family was from north of here, pretty far out in the woods. Getting to Gatlinburg was an accomplishment for her, and she had plans to go farther. Did her family show?"

"Yeah. They're torn up, as you might imagine. They're also riding me pretty hard to find the driver who killed her. Since it was probably an accident, it could take a while. Crimes without a motive are always the hardest to solve." Beaker rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "Like this maniac killer we have."

"You've got plenty on your plate. At least it's been quiet for a few days. Tell me the truth, has Cassandra McBeth been able to spook up any idea who the killer might be? Any good dreams or visions?" he laughed.

"Don't even say it," Beaker said. "You'll bring the creep out of the woodwork again, and I'm hoping he's moved on. Cassandra's dreams are interesting, especially in their accuracy, but she hasn't named any names. Do me a favor and don't go around spouting off about Ms. McBeth. Her male friend chewed on me about unprofessionalism."

Adam sauntered behind the men, his ears straining. Beaker was terribly free with details about his investigation. It seemed a bad habit with the man.

"Haggin says the crimes are out of his jurisdiction, but if you need help, don't hesitate to ask. I'm sure that with my influence, the city could declare some type of emergency and loan you some policemen and cars."

"Thanks." Beaker rubbed his chin again. "We're exploring every lead we find. My men and I believe the crimes are committed somewhere else, then the bodies are brought to different ravines and dumped. Hell, it's over now. I'm hoping the guy's moved on and we're left with two unsolved murders."

"That's not the best solution," the other man agreed, "but I like that better than a continuation of the murders. You aren't holding out on some evidence, are you?"

Beaker slowed his pace. "Not at all, Mayor. We're considering the possibility of putting Ms. McBeth on Martin West's show. There's a chance, if the murderer's still around, we can draw him out."

"Using Cassandra McBeth as bait?" The mayor considered the possibility as he spoke. "This could end up looking bad for the city. I mean murderers and psychics. We don't want to look ridiculous."

"But we do want to catch the killer."

"Just don't go overboard. You know West likes to exaggerate everything. He could make us all look like a bunch of hillbillies."

"Ken, if we don't catch this guy, then the next murder will bring the national media in here. Serial killers are big television."

"How much does Ms. McBeth actually know?" The mayor stopped and shifted his weight from foot to foot. A sheen of perspiration touched his upper lip.

Beaker shrugged. "Who knows for sure?"

"Do you really believe she knows anything?" The mayor wiped his forehead with the palm of his hand. The afternoon was not hot, but he was uncomfortable.

"I don't buy into this mumbo jumbo crap. She's an eccentric. But she doesn't have to convince me, only the killer."

"Well, let me know if the city can be of any assistance." The mayor looked up and down the street with some anxiety. "I'd better be getting back to the office."

Adam ducked behind a trash can. So that was Mayor Ken Simpson. Adam didn't particularly care for the way Simpson had referred to Cassandra as the mountain witch. Neither man had much concern for her welfare, either. They were both too caught up in protecting their own little niches.

The mayor and sheriff parted ways. Beaker headed for the small café where coffee and fresh hot doughnuts were a specialty. Adam followed close behind. He waited for the exact moment to speak.

"Sheriff, if Cassandra does this Martin West show, how many deputies will you put on her for protection?"

Adam's question stopped the lawman in the door of the café. Beaker turned, one hand still on the doorknob. "Enough to take care of the job. We have no intention of setting Ms. McBeth up as a sitting duck."

"No? How about a cooked goose?" Adam felt his temper begin a slow burn. Beaker was so damned superior. "I think this is a serious mistake. If anything happens— "

"Can the melodrama," Beaker interrupted. "Ms. McBeth knows the dangers. She agreed to do this because she wants to help. My suggestion to you is that you either stay out of the way or, in general, make yourself scarce."

"I'm not some local you can intimidate," Adam said. Beaker's attitude was infuriating. It was almost as if the man wanted to put Cassandra in the worst position possible.

"That's right, Mr. Raleigh. You aren't a local. As far as I'm concerned, you're becoming a troublemaker. If it becomes necessary, I can have you locked up tight." He took a step closer. "I want this case solved. It isn't my intention to endanger anyone, especially not Cassandra McBeth. But you forget, she came to me and volunteered information. Now I'm just going to use it in the way I deem most beneficial to my investigation."

Adam held his ground. "You'd better make certain the protection you give her is adequate."

"I don't take too kindly to threats."

"I don't give them lightly. And while you're at it, it might be nice if you asked the mayor not to refer to Cassandra as the mountain witch."

Beaker smiled. "Ken Simpson and Cassandra went to school together. He knows her family history as well as I do. We both remember when her father fell in the apple orchard. Some folks said it wasn't an accident." Beaker let the implication hang.

"I guess the law enforcement was about as good then as it is now." Adam smiled as he saw Beaker's face grow red. "If foul play was suspected, someone should have done something then. Besides, Cassandra isn't responsible for the past."

"You'd better stay clear of me and my work," Beaker said carefully. He opened the door of the café and stepped inside, slamming it behind him.

Adam checked his watch. He had one last idea. Sarah Welford's funeral. He would have liked to go back for Cassandra, but there wasn't time. Besides, she was too well-known. He hurried to a drugstore where he could find a telephone directory and a list of funeral homes. He had only half an hour to find what he needed before the funeral was set to begin.

S
ITTING ON THE BACK PEW
, Adam scanned the crowd. He saw no one who even remotely came up to the physical description of the man called Ray. There were weeping relatives, and some of the waitresses from Crockett's that he remembered. No bodybuilders, though. He was about to give up the hunt when a slender woman entered. She wore a black veil and took a seat on the pew opposite him. Adam could hear her sniffling as she sat down.

His heart rate increased as he scrutinized the woman. He'd come looking for Ray, but he might have found the mysterious Ellen. He couldn't be certain about her hair. It was done up in a bun and covered with the hat and veil. It was dark, though. And there was something about her, a sadness that went beyond loss of a casual friendship.

Throughout the service, Adam kept his attention on the young woman. As soon as it was over, she stood up and stepped toward the door. He made it a point to be right behind her.

"Excuse me," he said.

She turned, her eyes hidden by the veil. She couldn't disguise the intake of breath.

"Leave me alone," she whispered.

"Ellen?" he asked.

"My name is JoAnn Reed," she said, her voice shaky but clear. "I was Sarah's roommate. Whatever you want, please leave me alone."

Adam felt a moment of confusion. "Could we talk for a moment. This is terribly important," he said, taking her elbow and guiding her away from the front of the chapel. Sheriff Beaker, Chief Haggin and several other law enforcement officials had been at the memorial service. He wanted a chance to talk with this young woman without interruption.

He felt her tense, as if she intended to pull away. Suddenly she started to cry. Adam put his arm around her in a gesture of comfort and drew her to the side of the chapel where a hedge allowed her some privacy. For a few moments, he held her while she cried.

When at last her sobs began to diminish, he shifted her toward a wrought-iron bench that had been placed in a small secluded garden beside the chapel.

"What do you want?" she finally asked. "Why are you hounding me?"

Adam searched her face behind the veil. It was swollen and splotchy. Was she the woman Cassandra called Ellen? Did that woman exist? He realized for the first time that he was on the verge of accepting everything about Cassandra. He'd never really believed in special talents. Now, though…

"I have a friend who's been worried about you, I think," he said. "It's a long, rather strange story, but I have no intention of harming you in any way."

"Sarah told me about you. You and that woman." She touched beneath the veil with a crumpled tissue. "She said you bothered her. The night she died…"

"Ms. McBeth and I were looking for a young woman we thought was named Ellen." He saw the girl flinch slightly at the name. His hopes rose. "We wanted to warn her about something Ms. McBeth dreamed." He put his hand on the girl's forearm. "I know this sounds bizarre, but at least listen to me."

"I don't know." She started to rise, but Adam's hand gently restrained her. She resumed her seat, her head bowed.

"Cassandra saw a girl like you in a dream. She was riding with a man in a car. The man intended to kill her." He waited for a reaction, but JoAnn Reed didn't move. "We only wanted to warn the young woman to be careful. That's all."

"Sarah thought you were from my parents." She looked up at last. A tear dropped from her chin beneath the veil and landed in her lap. "She thought you were someone my folks had hired to make me come home."

"No." Adam shook his head.

"She was only trying to help me." JoAnn's voice cracked. "I feel like it's my fault that she's dead." Her voice rose and then she started to cry again.

Adam put his arm around her, giving her his shoulder to cry on. "The sheriff said it was an accident. A hit-and-run driver."

The young woman struggled away from him. "Hit and run? Yeah, it was a hit and run. But it wasn't an accident. What was Sarah doing on the highway alone? That wasn't the way home and she would never have gone that way. What happened to her car that it broke down? Sheriff Beaker doesn't want it to be a murder, so he's acting like it isn't. But I know Sarah. Somebody killed her!" JoAnn's voice rose to a high note of hysteria. She backed away from Adam. "She was afraid of you. Maybe it was you!"

"Raleigh!" Beaker's voice cut through JoAnn's hysteria. "I warned you about causing trouble."

The sheriff stepped through the small black iron gate and stood at the bench. "Harassing young women in town is not something I'm going to put up with."

Beaker motioned JoAnn to his side. She rose, turning from one man to the other. Before Beaker could stop her, she ran through the gate and disappeared.

"You need to talk with that woman," Adam said.

"You need to mind your own business. I warned you about making trouble."

Adam stood up and faced the sheriff. He was desperate to track JoAnn Reed, but he couldn't afford to let Beaker see his intentions. "Are there any charges?"

Beaker waited, watching Adam closely. "What were you doing with that young woman back here all tucked away?"

"Talking. As you clearly saw and heard."

"Sounded to me like she was crying."

"Her friend was murdered." Adam hit the last word hard.

Beaker rubbed his chin with two fingers. "Take a word of warning, Raleigh. Don't nose into business that isn't yours."