Scene of the Crime: Deadman's Bluff (8 page)

Hanging on the wall behind the counter was a large picture of a piece of pie with the caption Enjoy A Piece of Amber Lake Café’s Famous Caramel Pie.

Sparks shot off in her head. She remembered that sign, and she’d had a piece of that pie. Her mouth filled with the solid memory of the flaky crust, of the gooey richness of caramel.

“I’ve been here.” The words whispered out of her as she turned to stare at Seth. “I’ve eaten here before,” she exclaimed as a wave of excitement washed over her.

“Are you sure?” Seth sat up straighter in his seat, his gaze intense as it held hers.

She leaned back against her seat and once again stared at the sign advertising the pie and as she did snippets of memories snaked through her head. “A plump waitress, a chicken salad sandwich, the shadows of twilight filtering in through the front windows and a piece of caramel pie and coffee for dessert,” she said softly. “I was definitely here.”

“Twilight, that means you were probably here for dinner.” Seth’s voice brought her out of the kaleidoscope of flashing snippets of memories.

“The plump waitress was a redhead. She served me,” she replied, once again looking around the café for a flame-haired waitress. She pointed to a woman working the other side of the café. “I think that’s her.”

Seth shot out of the booth and approached the waitress. Tamara could see the energy that wafted from him, felt the energy drumming inside her own veins. Remembering eating a piece of pie wasn’t much, but it was something and gave her the hope that more would follow.

Seth returned to the booth with the waitress, who wore a name tag that read Annie. She smiled at Tamara and shoved a strand of her crimson hair behind one ear. “Sure, I remember her,” she said. “She was in for dinner Monday night and I waited on her.”

“Was she alone?” Seth asked.

“Ate alone, left alone,” the waitress replied.

“Did I mention where I was going, what I was doing here in town?” Tamara asked.

“I’ve got to be honest with you, hon. I don’t remember making any small talk with you. You ordered. I brought your food and that was it. Sorry I can’t be more helpful, and now I’ve got to get back to my customers.” With an apologetic smile she hurried back to her side of the café.

Seth sank back down in the booth, his eyes bright with hope. “This is good. This is very good. Maybe this is a sign that your memories are starting to break loose. Now we know you were here and ate dinner on Monday night and you were found at the dunes on Tuesday. This is the beginning of solving the puzzle, Tamara.” He reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

She clung tightly as she held eye contact with him. She had a feeling that if this was just the beginning, then she knew she’d probably have to go to hell and back as the rest of her memories returned.

Chapter Five

It was well before dawn when Seth sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee at his elbow and the files of the two murders in front of him. Sleep had been difficult and he’d finally decided to forget even trying to get up.

There were so many things about these cases that bothered him, starting with his number-one witness. Although no other memories had returned to Tamara for the rest of the day, he’d been pleased by the little bit of progress they’d made during lunch.

They’d finally returned home at dinnertime after having walked most of Main Street several times. By the time they’d gotten back here and eaten dinner Tamara had pled exhaustion and a headache and had gone to her room.

Seth had almost been grateful that she’d removed herself from his presence. He’d been far too aware of her all day, smelling her scent, watching the play of emotions that crossed her beautiful features. He’d fought a simmering desire for her all day long and had felt like he drew his first real deep breath when she went to her room.

He had to stop looking at her as an attractive female and instead stay focused on her as a potential victim and the best opportunity they had to catch a killer.

He took a sip of his coffee and studied the file containing everything about Rebecca Cook’s murder. There was no question that Sheriff Atkins and his team had had their work cut out for them investigating the young woman’s death. Most of the teenagers and young adults in town had been at the party at the dunes.

There were reams of pages of interviews contained in the file and Seth flipped through each one, unsurprised to find that the three young men who had been on the dunes the day Tamara had been uncovered had also been party attendees.

As he moved on to the file with notes and interviews and the official reports on Vicki Smith, two things caught his attention. The first was that Sam Clemmons, the young man who had been like a frozen statue at the scene with Tamara, had also been present when the other two women had been found at the dunes. What were the odds of him being there when three bodies were uncovered? He knew the sheriff had interrogated the boys after Tamara had been found, but he hadn’t seen the interview transcripts yet.

Vicki Smith had been a pretty, thirty-year-old brunette who had worked as a waitress at the Golden Daffodil and at the time of her death had been dating the owner of the restaurant, Henry Todd. Todd had been questioned but despite his intimate relationship with the victim the authorities had been unable to tie him to Vicki’s murder or find any kind of a connection between Todd and Rebecca.

The only thing all three victims had in common was dark hair. The first two victims had been natives of Amber Lake and so far it appeared that Tamara had simply been passing through.

What had happened to her between the hours when she’d had dinner in the café and the next day when she’d been found in the sand dunes? What horrors was her amnesia attempting to protect her from remembering?

Linda had spoken to him for a little while the night before about post-traumatic stress and all that it could entail for Tamara.

She’d even suggested it might be healthy for Tamara to meet with the professional the doctor had recommended to discuss her amnesia and whatever else she might be experiencing due to her trauma. Seth intended to ask Tamara this morning if she needed to see a counselor or somebody else, even though so far she’d declined.

In the meantime, he intended to pick apart each and every report and interview from the two murders and make a list of people he intended to reinterview personally.

There were only two official entrances to Deadman’s Dunes that provided a small parking area for the off-riders to park. On the day that Seth had arrived and gone to the dunes, he’d parked at the main entrance on the north side. The other way in was on the west side of the sand.

Rebecca’s body had been found almost directly in the center of the dunes, where the area was a flat run for riders to test their speed before hitting the hilly mounds again.

Vicki’s body had been found close to the west entrance and Tamara’s on the east side of the dunes. It didn’t matter what any of it meant to Seth. What he needed to find out was what the dunes meant to the killer.

At six-thirty, he got up from the table, grabbed some of his clothes from the hallway closet where he’d moved them from the guest room and then headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Minutes later as he stood beneath the shower spray his thoughts returned to Tamara. It was strange, he knew nothing about her past, nothing about the life experiences that had made her who she was, and yet he felt as if he knew a wealth of information about her just from the hours they’d spent together.

Her political beliefs jived with his, she had a wicked sense of humor that he enjoyed and there was softness to her spirit that made him want to be strong for her.

He liked the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how her eyes lit up just before a smile curved her lips.

They’d spent part of yesterday at the discount store where she bought a basketful of clothing and miscellaneous items to call her own. If you could tell a woman’s personality by the things she bought, then Tamara was definitely low maintenance.

Seth had paid for everything and she’d insisted that when she had access to her bank account again she would make it right with him.

He didn’t care if she ever paid him back. She hadn’t spent that much money and the pleasure that had ridden her features as she picked out things for herself had been worth every penny.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the awaiting towel. As he dried off he thanked the stars that he’d packed a pair of dress slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. Today he wasn’t going into the sheriff’s office as Seth Hawkins on vacation in jeans and a T-shirt, but rather as Special Agent Seth Hawkins, dressed for business. He’d already let Sheriff Atkins know that he meant business when he’d called him the night before to set up a meeting with Atkins’s team.

Dried and dressed, he clipped his badge onto his belt, added his shoulder holster and gun and then pulled on a lightweight jacket. He not only wanted the local law enforcement to know that he was ready to roll, but also everyone he interviewed that day that they were facing a professional.

He nearly yelped in surprise as he opened the bathroom door and almost ran over Tamara. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and then together they headed for the kitchen where they wouldn’t disturb the others who were still sleeping.

“You’re up early,” he said, noticing that the blue-and-white blouse she wore emphasized not only the bright blue of her eyes, but also her small waist. A pair of white shorts showcased the length of her slender legs and Seth felt a slow burn begin in the pit of his stomach.

“I should be up early,” she replied as she headed for the coffeepot. “I went to bed at the crack of dusk last night.”

“Did you sleep well?”

She finished pouring herself a cup of the coffee and then turned to face him. “I’d love to tell you I tossed and turned with memories whirling all through my brain, but the truth is I slept hard and deep and without any dreams, at least none that I remember.”

She took a sip of her coffee and above the cup her gaze slid over him. “You look quite official this morning,” she observed as she lowered the cup from her mouth.

“I’m heading into Atkins’s office for the day. I’m meeting with his entire team and going to do some interviewing.”

“Do I need to be there?”

He shook his head. “Not today. Are you comfortable just hanging around here with Samantha and Linda? It’s Linda’s day off, so you won’t be alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“Linda has my cell number. You’ll call me if you think of anything new?”

“You mean like the name and address of the killer?” she asked wryly. “I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

He grinned at her. “Good, and I’d like to officially invite you to dinner tonight at the Golden Daffodil.”

“Is this someplace I might have been?” she asked.

“Or where someone you might have encountered is,” he replied. He watched the apprehension that raced across her features. “But it’s not all business,” he hurriedly added. “The food is supposed to be excellent there and I’d like to have you as my dinner date.”

The apprehension on her face transformed to something pretty, something half-yearning. “I’d love to be your dinner date,” she said, her cheeks with slightly more color than normal. “What time should I be ready to go?”

“Why don’t we plan on around six-thirty.” He backed toward the kitchen door. “And now, I’ve got to get out of here and down to the sheriff’s office. I’ll check in later.”

He escaped out of the house and into the fresh early-morning air, wondering what in the world he had just done pretending he and Tamara were going out on a date tonight, wondering why the idea of being out on a date with her filled him with the same kind of wistful longing he’d momentarily seen in her eyes.

He started his truck and clenched the steering wheel with a sense of determination. For the past couple of days he’d felt more like a babysitter than an investigator. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Tamara, as much as he hoped she’d regain her memories and solve the crime for them all, they couldn’t just sit around and wait and hope that that might happen.

It was time to get to work...the tedious grunt work that usually solved crimes. They couldn’t depend on Tamara another minute. They needed to attempt to find the killer the old-fashioned way until Tamara was at a place where she could help them.

If he discovered that Atkins’s team couldn’t keep up with him, that they weren’t up to his kind of investigation, then he would contact Director Forbes and request a couple more men to form a task force. He was hoping to work well with the locals, but he wouldn’t hesitate to call in reinforcements if necessary.

As he stepped into the low, flat building that served as the sheriff’s headquarters, he smiled at the woman behind the desk at the same time that he heard Tom Atkins’s voice coming from a back room. The sheriff didn’t sound like a happy camper.

“You can go on back,” the woman said as Seth flashed his badge. “They’re all there waiting for you in the conference room...last doorway on the left.”

As Seth walked down the long corridor that led to the back of the building, he realized from the sound of things that Tom Atkins was definitely having a temper fit.

Seth opened the door to the conference room and a dozen pairs of eyes turned his way. The dozen deputies were seated in chairs at a long conference table and Atkins stood at the head of the table, his chubby face flushed with residual anger.

“Agent Hawkins,” he greeted Seth. “Please, join us.”

Seth slid into a chair next to Deputy Raymond Michaels, the man who had brought him the files the other night.

“Have you seen the morning paper?” Tom asked Seth.

Seth shook his head. Linda didn’t have the local newspaper delivered and Seth hadn’t ventured out to find one that morning. A paper was slid in front of him and he stared at the front page in irritation. The headline read: The Sandman Attempts to Bury Another. There was also a grainy picture of Tamara being lifted out of her sandy grave by Seth. He scanned the accompanying article, his irritation growing as he realized it named not only Tamara but also himself and the fact that he was in town visiting Linda. The article had been written by Jeff Armando, reporter at large.