Cold Case at Camden Crossing. Rita Herron
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it been an accident or had someone intentionally run her off the road?
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN STRUGGLED to remember details about the car. The driver was probably some joyriding teenager, or maybe a drunk driver.
But the message on her mirror at home taunted her.
Someone didn’t want her here. Actually a lot of people didn’t want her here. Had one of them run her into that ditch to get rid of her?
She unfastened her seat belt and started to climb from the car, but Chaz took her arm and helped her out. For a moment she was dizzy, but he steadied her and the world righted itself.
“You are hurt,” he said in a gruff voice.
“I’ve been through worse,” she said, then immediately regretted her comment when his gaze locked with hers. They both knew she’d barely survived that crash. Although no one knew how she’d escaped the burning vehicle.
Chaz started to say something, but the sound of a siren wailing rent the air, and red lights twirled in the night sky as the ambulance approached. A second later, the tow truck rolled in on its heels, and Tawny-Lynn had to succumb to an exam by the paramedics.
Meanwhile, Chaz spoke with Henry, the fiftysomething owner of the auto repair shop, and supervised as the man towed her Jeep from the ditch.
“Your blood pressure’s a little high, miss,” the blond medic said.
“Wouldn’t you think that’s normal after an accident?” she said wryly.
He nodded, then listened to her heart while the other medic cleaned her forehead and applied a small butterfly bandage.
“Heart sounds okay,” the medic said. He used a penlight and examined her eyes, instructing her to follow the light.
“I’m really fine,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I was wearing my seat belt so I didn’t hit the windshield.”
“How about the steering wheel?”
She nodded. “My chest did, but nothing is broken.” She had suffered broken ribs in the bus accident and knew that kind of breath-robbing pain.
“We should take you in for X-rays.”
Tawny-Lynn shook her head. “No need. I told you, I’m fine.”
The medics exchanged looks as Chaz approached. “If you won’t go in, you need to sign a waiver, miss.”
“Then let me sign it. I just want to go home.” Not that she considered White Forks home anymore. But she didn’t like people hovering over her.
She’d had too much of that after the bus wreck. Of course, the hovering had been people demanding that she remember, pressuring her, wanting answers that she couldn’t give.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital for observation,” Chaz suggested.
She’d been taking care of herself far too long to welcome attention, especially from Chaz Camden.
“I don’t need a hospital,” she said. “It was just a little accident.”
The medic handed her a form attached to a clipboard, and she gave them her autograph.
They packed up and left just as Henry finished dragging her SUV from the ditch. The thing was old and beat up, so a bent fender with a little body damage didn’t faze her. Not as long as the car would run.
“You shouldn’t drive it until I check it out,” Henry said. “Front end probably needs realignment. And that back tire is as bald as a baby’s butt.”
“How long will it take to replace the tire and check the alignment?”
“Day or two. I can call you when I’m done.”
Tawny-Lynn hedged. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she also didn’t want to get stranded on her way back to Austin. And her father’s old pickup was at the ranch, so she’d have transportation. “All right.”
“I’ll give you a lift home,” Chaz offered.
She didn’t want to be in the same car with Chaz—to share the same air—because he smelled too good, too darn masculine.
Sexy.
And whether or not she wanted to admit it, she was shaken by the accident and would love to lean on him.
But she couldn’t allow herself to do that.
She grabbed her purse from the Jeep, then removed one of her business cards with her phone number on it. “Call me when you have it ready.”
By the time she finished talking to Henry, Chaz had unloaded her supplies and stowed them in the trunk of his squad car.
Henry waved to her, then jumped in the tow truck and chugged away, pulling her Jeep behind him, the clank of metal echoing as he disappeared from sight.
“He’ll give you a fair price,” Chaz said as if he sensed her concerns about money.
She didn’t comment. Instead she walked around to the passenger side of his car and climbed in. The world was spinning again, the seconds before she’d slammed into the ditch taking her back seven years.
She massaged her temple, but the sound of screams and crying reverberated in her head.
“Tawny-Lynn,” Chaz said softly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He closed his hand over hers, and her fingers tingled with awareness, unsettling her even more. She desperately wanted to hold on to him. To have someone assure her that things would be all right.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
* * *
BUT NOTHING WAS all right. She was all alone. Everyone in Camden Crossing hated her, and the only way to fix that was to remember what had happened that day.
Chaz gave her a sympathetic look, then started the car and drove to White Forks. The woods backing up to the ranch seemed darker and more ominous tonight. Chaz maneuvered the dirt drive, avoiding the worst potholes, then parked in front of the house.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard an animal rustling in dry leaves as she climbed out. Then the howl of a coyote as if it was close by.
Chaz opened the trunk and lifted one of the boxes, and she grabbed two bags of supplies and led the way up the steps. But when she touched the doorknob to unlock the door, it swung open.
Chaz immediately pressed a hand across her chest to stop her from entering. “Did you lock it when you left?”
She nodded, remembering the bloody message on her mirror.
Was someone inside now?
* * *
CHAZ’S INSTINCTS SNAPPED to full alert. He set the box on the porch, removed his weapon and scanned the front of the property. He hadn’t seen anyone pulling up, and there were no cars in sight.
Still, the door was unlocked, and on the heels of Tawny-Lynn’s so-called accident, that raised his suspicions.
“Chaz?”
He pressed a finger to his lips to shush her, then motioned for her to stay behind him. He inched inside, looking left then right, shocked at the stacks of papers and junk filling every nook and cranny of the living room and kitchen.
The stench of stale beer and liquor mingled with mold, and gave him an understanding of the mammoth amount of trash bags and cleaning supplies Tawny-Lynn had bought.
It had been years since he’d been in the house and tried to remember the layout. The master bedroom was on the main floor, the girls’ rooms upstairs.
The floor creaked as Tawny-Lynn followed behind him, and he veered to the left into the master suite. It was just as nasty and cluttered as the front rooms.
But no one was inside.