Scene of the Crime: Deadman's Bluff (17 page)

And that was exactly what he wanted...wasn’t it?

* * *

T
HE BREAK ROOM WAS
beginning to feel like home and half of the deputies on the force her family. Tamara sat at the table and stared absently at the tiny television that was mounted to the wall in the corner. A morning talk show was playing but she paid it no attention.

It had begun...the distancing from her by Seth. She’d known it was coming, knew it had to happen, but she hadn’t realized just how bereft she’d feel when it began.

The night they had spent together had obviously changed things for him, made him realize things between them were out of control, that her feelings for him were out of control and now he was backpedaling as fast as he could to get on firmer footing.

Despite the constant presence of the officers coming and going, she’d never felt so alone.

It was just after noon when Deputy Billy Broadwick came in carrying a fast-food bag that he set in front of her. “Agent Hawkins told me to get you some lunch.” He sat down in the chair opposite her as she opened the bag. “I got you a chicken sandwich and a side salad. I hope that’s okay. It’s what my wife always orders.”

“It’s fine,” Tamara replied. She liked Deputy Broadwick. The young man was ridiculously in love with his wife, Haley, and they were expecting their first child in a month. “Since you and Haley decided not to learn the sex of the baby, what color did you decorate the nursery?” she asked, eager for any kind of conversation after being alone for so long in the room.

“Yellow. Haley calls it buttercup, but to me it’s just plain yellow. How are you doing? Must be pretty boring just sitting in here day after day.”

She smiled at him ruefully. “Thank goodness there’s a television in here. Otherwise I think I might go stark raving mad.”

“I’ll bet you’re eager to leave this all behind you and get home.”

Tamara opened the wrapping on the chicken sandwich and nodded, because she knew it was the response he expected. But the truth of the matter was she had yet to feel any urgency, any homesickness at all. What did that say about her former life? Had she been unhappy? Lonely?

Deputy Broadwick sat with her while she ate her lunch and they talked about Amber Lake and the Fourth of July celebrations set to occur in the next five days. There was always a huge firework display put on by the town out by the dunes, but he wasn’t sure it would happen this year because of the dunes being closed.

Even though Tamara knew it wasn’t her fault, she felt half-responsible for robbing the town of its annual celebration fireworks. If she could only just remember. Damn her mind for attempting to keep her safe from whatever she’d experienced.

It wasn’t long before Deputy Broadwick had to return to duty, leaving her alone again with only her thoughts.

The fact that Seth hadn’t popped in at lunchtime to check in on her spoke volumes of how far he’d backed off from her. She told herself it was all for the best. It was possible by the time they left here today he’d have the name of a hypnotist who would be able to retrieve the memories she’d repressed.

It was possible within the next day or two she’d have her memories back and would be saying goodbye to the FBI agent who had saved her life...the same man who had stolen her heart.

She moved from the table to one of the two easy chairs in the room. There was also a cot shoved against one wall, she assumed for lawmen who found themselves working overtime and needing a quick catnap.

She eyed it longingly. Boredom made her sleepy and she was bored and disheartened and already grieving the loss of this small town and Seth.

The chair embraced her with comfort and she must have fallen asleep, for she was instantly trapped in a dream. Once again she was in the sand. She knew the sun was high in the sky for she could feel the heat of it on her exposed skin.

She knew she was in trouble, but she couldn’t help herself. Her muscles refused to obey her brain’s commands. She wasn’t just paralyzed from the neck down. Her eyes were closed and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t open them.

I should have never stopped at that rest area just outside town. I should have never lingered to chat with the man walking the cute little dog.
Thoughts, regrets, shifted through her head along with the sound of the scrape of the shovel against the sand.

“An ostrich, that’s what you are,” a deep voice sounded from nearby. “You should have stopped him, but you didn’t do anything. You’re nothing but a damned ostrich and you belong in the sand.”

Her mind screamed her terror as she heard the scoop of the shovel and then the plop of the sand falling into place...on top of her...burying her.

No, no, please!
Her brain screamed the words her mouth refused to form, and she tried desperately to open her eyes, at least to catch a glimpse of the man who was responsible for her death.

But her eyes wouldn’t open, her mouth couldn’t move, and there was no way to halt the imminence of her untimely death. As she heard the scoop of the shovel once again her mind raced down a rabbit hole, into total darkness.

“Tamara.”

The sound of her name brought her out of the darkness and up off the chair, fight-or-flight adrenaline spiking through her.

“Hey, it’s okay. You were asleep.”

She stared at Seth’s face and she wanted to weep because his handsome features instantly calmed her racing heart, the concern in his eyes immediately pulled her from the dark hole where she’d fallen. “I was dreaming,” she finally said. “Bad dreams about the dunes.”

His eyes darkened. “Then I’m glad I woke you up. It’s almost four. I decided to call it an early day. There’s nothing more I can do here right now.”

She nodded, still a bit dazed from her dream as she followed him down the hallway and out the front door of the building.

“I have the sheriff checking out Sam Clemmons a little more closely,” he said when they were in the truck and headed back to the house. “I told them to see if he or his parents owned any other property around the area. They’ve already checked out his place, but his family might own an old farmhouse or acreage just out of town.”

“Let’s hope they find some answers,” she replied. “I laid out some hamburger to defrost this morning so I’ll make a meat loaf for dinner.” She paused a moment, playing over her dream in her mind. “He called me an ostrich.”

“Who did?” Seth shot her a quick glance.

“The man who buried me. He called me an ostrich and said I belonged in the sand.” Her heartbeat accelerated as she consciously willed herself back to the nightmare he’d pulled her from.

She saw Seth’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Was it just part of a crazy dream or do you think it was a real memory?”

“Definitely a memory,” she replied. “I don’t know how I’m sure about that, but I am. And something else, I think he took me from the rest area outside town. I remember stopping there and I remember a man with a dog.”

She could feel the tension that suddenly wafted off Seth as he pulled into the driveway. “Is there a rest area outside town?” she asked, sudden doubts making her wonder if it was just a dream or a true memory.

“Five miles outside the city limits on the north side. It’s a little park area with bathrooms and a place to walk your dog.” He shut off the engine and his eyes glowed with excitement. “If we know he took you at the rest stop, then we have the initial crime scene and hopefully that’s where we’ll find some kind of evidence.”

He was out of the truck before he’d finished speaking. “I need to talk to Atkins. We need to get his crime scene deputies out there immediately.”

Tamara got out of the truck and hurriedly followed after him. Maybe this was truly the break they needed to solve the case. Perhaps the killer had been careless at the rest area and there would still be some evidence there.

Once they were in the house Seth immediately got on the phone and Tamara busied herself preparing the meat loaf and then popping it into the oven. She found a box of scalloped potatoes, followed the directions on the back of the box and stuck them into the oven, as well. All she needed to do was add a can of green beans and dinner was complete.

Seth had disappeared into his sister’s bedroom and she could hear that he was still on the phone, coordinating whatever search was about to take place.

He was gone almost an hour and by that time Tamara had pulled both the potatoes and the small meat loaf from the oven and had the green beans simmering on the stove.

“We’ve got everyone ready to head to the rest stop. Want to take a ride?” he asked.

She should have known that he’d want to be in the thick of things. Not only was it his job, but it was always who he was as an FBI agent, as a man. She glanced helplessly at the food and then back at him. “Just let me cover things up—we can microwave it later
—
and then I’ll be ready.”

She wasn’t ready. Minutes later as she got into the truck with Seth, she could feel the excitement wafting from him, but a sense of dread filled her as she thought about returning to the place from her dreams.

It had to be real. She couldn’t have dreamed about a rest stop she’d never been to, and the idea of going back to the first scene of the crime created a tight pressure in her chest. Whatever had happened there had occurred before she’d been found in the dunes.

Did the man with the dog have anything to do with what had happened to her? Or were they just meaningless elements in her dream?

When they got to the rest area would she suddenly remember the face of the man who had tried to kill her? Would she remember those horrifying moments when he’d laid her down and then begun to methodically cover her with sand?

Was she about to come face-to-face in her mind with the Sandman?

Chapter Eleven

Seth was hoping that if her dream was right, then the rest area had been the point of her abduction. Nobody had checked the area because it wasn’t in the city limits and there had been no reason for them to even consider it as having anything to do with the crime.

He hated taking her back, but was hoping that by being there, by retracing some of her steps, she might remember something important.

“I was on my way to visit my Aunt Rose in Tulsa,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her in surprise. “Then why hasn’t anyone heard from your aunt when you didn’t show up there?”

“It was a surprise visit. I hadn’t told her I was coming. I just got up one morning and decided to take the drive and stay with her for a couple of days. She’s not my real aunt...she was a friend of my mother’s and while we aren’t super close, we try to stay in touch every couple of weeks by phone.” Her face was pale, her features filled with tension in the waning daylight.

“Is this too hard on you, Tamara? We can go back to the house if you can’t do this.” He’d hate to miss the initial crime scene investigation, but he’d do it if she wanted to.

“No, I need to do this,” she replied, the force of her words at odds with the frailty of her body language, the sheer vulnerability that shone from her eyes.

As he drove he couldn’t help but shoot surreptitious glances at her, trying to gauge her emotions as the miles clicked off. Would the scene of her abduction unlock the last of her memories? And would she be able to handle those memories if they came rushing back?

He realized he was scared for her...afraid for her mental health...afraid for her very sanity.

“An ostrich. Why would he call me an ostrich? Did I see something I shouldn’t have? Or not see something I should have?”

He felt her gaze on him, intense yet bewildered. “I can’t imagine,” he replied. “I wish I had all the answers for you, Tamara. I wish I could shoulder the pain of what you’ve gone through.”

She leaned back against the seat and sighed. “I’m afraid to remember,” she admitted in a small voice.

“What you must keep in mind is that you’ve already endured whatever happened to you and you survived. Your memories can’t hurt you. You’re a survivor, Tamara, and you’ve already lived through whatever your memories bring to you.” He flashed her a forced grin. “You’re tough and I know you can handle this.”

She cast him a wry glance and released a tremulous sigh. “I hope you’re good at reading character.”

“It’s one of my strengths,” he assured her. However, this case had made him doubt that sentiment. In all the people he’d interviewed he’d read both strengths and weaknesses but he wasn’t sure he’d sensed a psychopathic killer.

Of course, psychopaths were difficult to read because they were so adept at appearing normal. The mask they wore in their everyday life was firmly in place and only slipped when they finally lost control of their impulses and compulsions.

“I think it’s almost over,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Ahead he could see the rest area and the congregation of official vehicles and officers awaiting their arrival.

“I just have this thrum inside me that makes me feel like something is about to happen...something is about to blow.”

So she felt it, too. The ticking time bomb that he’d felt for the past couple of days.

He pulled to the curb beside the sheriff’s car and shut off the engine. He was about to unbuckle his seat belt when she stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

Her eyes shimmered as she tightened her grip on his arm. “I just want you to know that whatever happened to me was worth it since it brought you to me. I’ll never forget you, Seth Hawkins, and I have no regrets about anything that happened between us.”

An uncomfortable laugh escaped him. “You act like you’re never going to see me again. We’re just going to get out and look around and then we’ll be back at Linda’s to eat that dinner you made.”

She nodded absently, her gaze captured on the brick building that had the men’s restroom on one side and the ladies’ on the other. The whole area was a parklike setting with big shade trees and short walking trails.

“I remember being here,” she said. “I decided to make a quick pit stop here before heading on to Aunt Rose’s house.”