I'll Be There Part 19

"Why would I be?"

"There was an explosion at the newspaper. Everyone in town thinks I'm dead."

"Well, I've been away for a few months. Seems like trouble followed that newcomer, Candi Heart, into town." She lowered her voice and leaned in. "But you and I know, that's not her real name."

"No, it isn't. How did you know?"

"I knew her grandmother. Her mother, too, for that matter." The older lady shook her head. "That was a sad time when Candi's momma turned up drowned in the lake, but that one, she had a cloud hanging over her. I knew she'd come to a bad end."

"And that same trouble seems to still be around." Jenny wondered at the need for all the research she'd done, to uncover the crime ring Candi's mom had been tied to, when all she would have had to do was talk to Miss Estelee.

The older lady patted Jenny's leg. "Honey, you did the right thing. There's evil in the world that would go unchecked if not for good people like you, strong enough to do the right thing no matter the cost."

"The costs were pretty high this time." She wondered where Cord had disappeared to.

"Give me your teacup, honey."

Thinking Miss Estelee was going to give her a refill, she took the cookie and handed the cup and saucer to her. "I'm going to show you an old parlor trick my mother taught me."

Funny, but as old as she was, Jenny couldn't imagine Miss Estelee with a mother. Still, she watched closely as the older woman turned her cup upside down in the saucer. She rotated it several times then lifted it. The loose tea leaves that had settled at the bottom of her cup formed a ring on the saucer. Miss Estelee set the cup aside and studied the leaves intently.

"I see here that you're a strong, independent woman who values truth in all areas of her life, but we already knew that." The old woman's eyes literally twinkled before she winked and continued. "You're understandably feeling that your future is uncertain, and you're worrying about that, but there's no need." She tapped the edge of the saucer. "You're going to have a long happy life, filled with love, family, and many, many wonderful friends."

Jenny couldn't help smiling. Miss Estelee was trying to take her mind off her situation by pretending to read her tea leaves. That was sweet.

"Oh, it's no trick, honey. Well, I suppose it is. I don't really have to read anything. That's just a prop so it seems like I'm pulling a rabbit out of a hat. But what I told you will come to pa.s.s. You are going to have a long happy life, and it'll begin with you finding the love of your life."

As if on cue, Cord entered the room.

"I'm always right about these things. You'll see. Now, stop worrying. You'll make wrinkles on your pretty, young face. Trust me, there's plenty of years ahead for those. You don't want to get them before your time." She leaned back in her chair, and started laughing. The sound was so sweet, Jenny couldn't help joining in. Funny, but she instantly felt better. Her spirit lighter.

"Come on over, young man. We were just having a cup of tea and some cookies."

Cord sat on the Victorian sofa opposite her, his long, lean frame looking out of place on the delicate piece of furniture. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a tea drinker."

"Well, have a cookie then."

"They're wonderful," Jenny confirmed.

"Thank you, dear," she said to Jenny. "Did you find everything you needed upstairs?" she said to Cord.

"Yes. Thank you for having us, ma'am."

Jenny was impressed. He had nice manners, not that he'd exhibited any up to now.

"Now, there's no need in you stayin' downstairs tonight to guard the door, young man. No one will bother us here."

A look of confusion etched his face. Not only could the woman presumably see into the future, she read minds as well. She was certain that was exactly what Cord had planned to do.

"I appreciate that, but-"

"No *buts'. There's not a couch down here you'll fit on, and I'll not have any guest in my house sleeping on the floor. Now, as I was telling Jenny, my room is down here, and I avoid those stairs at all costs. My knees just won't take going up and down them anymore. So, don't worry about me wandering around up there. And my hearing's not what it used to be, either. You could run the radio or the TV all night, and I'd never know it."

Jenny and Cord exchanged surprised looks. She nearly snorted cookie out her nose! Was Miss Estelee actually implying what she thought she was? Well h.e.l.l, looking at Cord and remembering their kiss, now she couldn't think of anything else...

"Forgive an old lady, but it's past my bedtime. There's soup on the stove if you're hungry. Help yourself and don't bother cleaning up. I'll take care of it in the morning." She stood and picked up the tea tray, but she left the plate of cookies on the coffee table. "Good night."

When they were alone, Cord asked, "What just happened?"

"I believe she told my fortune, read our minds, and gave us permission to sleep together. Did I miss anything?"

Now Cord was choking on his cookie. Jenny laughed.

"She's something."

"Yes. She does have quite a reputation in town for eccentricity. She just defies explanation. Her unexplained, um... shall we say abilities, tie in nicely with the mystical legend of the angels that are supposed to watch over the town."

"Are you sayin' you think she's an angel?"

"No, I'm a bit too pragmatic. However, I wouldn't rule out the likelihood that she's on a first name basis with them and their Boss."

Cord chuckled and tried to settle back on the too small sofa.

"You find something funny?"

"The self-proclaimed *pragmatic' newspaper reporter taken to flights of fancy."

"I wouldn't call belief in G.o.d and angels fanciful. Beyond that, there are some things for which there are no answers; Miss Estelee is one of those things."

Someone rapped on the front door. Miss Estelee, who had not yet made it to her room, opened it. "Sheriff. Come in out of the cold."

Grady came into the foyer and removed his hat. "Evenin', Miss Estelee."

"I reckon you're here to see my guests."

"I am."

She led him into the parlor. "We're just settlin' in for the night."

"I apologize for calling at such a late hour, and I won't keep you long. I just wanted to let you all know that the roads into town have been closed. There are also units placed on either end of Ridge Road that runs here in front of the house. My deputy and I will be taking turns manning a car out front here tonight."

"What about the rear of the house?" Cord asked.

"Fuzz Rhoton's house is back there. He was a security specialist in the military. I use him from time to time to help in special cases. You couldn't ask for anyone better to have your back." He looked at Miss Estelee, then at Cord. "You still have your weapon?"

Cord nodded, but Miss Estelee said, "He won't be needin' it. There won't be any violence on my property."

Grady smiled. "The legend of the angels' wings in your gingerbread trim?"

Miss Estelee pointed up. "I look to a higher power for my protection, boys."

They all exchanged looks.

"You do what you need to as far as making the town safe goes, but you needn't worry about anyone in this house. Now, if you don't mind, I was about to put these old bones to bed. Y'all stay up as long as you like, and make yourself at home."

She turned and moved down the hall, and then a door opened and shut. Ignoring Miss Estelee's a.s.sertions, Cord said, "Sheriff, I've checked the front and back door. There are no locks on either. Just the old skeleton-lock system."

Grady rubbed his chin. "Yeah, I know. She doesn't lock her doors. Never has."

His voice got louder. "And you felt this was a safe place for Jenny?"

"Yeah."

"Don't tell me you subscribe this *angel' craziness, too."

"I've seen enough over the years to not discount it. Besides, with all these windows, there's other means of entry than the doors." He twirled his hat on his fist. "The town is secure. We've searched and haven't found anyone who doesn't belong. If we missed anything and someone does make their way to here, they won't get past us. And don't forget, you're on the inside. You'll take care of anything in here, right?"

"Right, but what if like we discussed earlier, there's someone on the inside?"

"I'll be right outside all night, and you'll be inside. If they get in, they'll have to go through us. No one is getting past me, and I know you won't let anyone get by you." Grady put his hat back on. "So, relax. Doc Prescott'll be by in the morning to check Jenny out. The TBI will also be here. They'll likely want to speak with Jenny."

Cord grunted, still clearly not happy.

"Jenny? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She hadn't felt safer since this ordeal had begun. "Thank you for everything, Grady."

"You're welcome." Grady opened the door. "Y'all have a good night."

Frannie Thompson swiped at the tears. Visibility was bad enough without her blubbering. Staying at Jenny's house, instead of feeling comforted, she'd felt closed in by her things, claustrophobic. She missed Jenny so much, she just wanted her back. How could she go through life knowing she was out there somewhere all alone?

A sign up ahead glowed in the darkness through the snow. Frannie slowed and pulled over. "Jimmy's Bar." Perfect. She could use a drink. In fact, getting smashed held great appeal at the moment. Anything to not feel for awhile.

The windowless metal door swung inward. The interior was dark and spa.r.s.ely populated which suited Frannie fine. She sat at the bar. A thin man with a face that said it had seen more than he'd care to recount asked, "What'll you have?"

"Jack and c.o.ke."

The man turned away to get her drink. Frannie put her purse on the bar and the folder the lawyer had given her slid out. The words "Last Will and Testament of Violet Jennings Thompson" glared at her. What a lie she was living. When the man had heard she was in town, he'd hiked through the snow to Jenny's house to bring it to her, instructing her on the probate process she wouldn't be able to begin. Another thing she'd have to discuss with the sheriff when the weather cleared. How was she supposed to deal with all this when she was still grieving for her sister?

She shoved the file back into her bag and shrugged out of her coat. Before she could unwind the long, green scarf her sister had gotten her for her birthday, her last birthday they'd ever spend together, the man returned with her drink then went back to watching the basketball game on the television that sat in the corner of the long, narrow room. No conversation. That suited her, too.

She tossed the dark straw on the wooden bar and disposed of half the beverage in one, long swallow. A man sitting four chairs down from her watched. She didn't much care; let him look. The initial burn of the whiskey was spreading a delicious warmth through her chest and lower. She downed the rest and her fingertips started to tingle. She set the heavy tumbler down with a satisfying thud. "Another." Screw the niceties. Her sister had been taken from her. There was no room for nice in her world.

The man took the gla.s.s and made her another. The other lone customer was still looking at her, so she turned to look back intending to say, "What?" but when she met his gaze, she stopped short. From the gla.s.sy look in his clear gray eyes, she'd say he'd had a few himself. He lifted his gla.s.s, took a drink, and hunkered down, forearms on the bar, his focus returned to the liquid in his gla.s.s.

At some point during the silent exchange, the bartender had brought her drink-minus the straw-and disappeared. He'd also left a bowl of pretzels. Her gaze swung back to the man with the empty eyes, but he'd forgotten about her and returned to his own personal h.e.l.l. She wondered what was going on at home that prevented him from getting drunk there. Maybe he was from out of town like her. She chuckled and took another drink. She couldn't imagine why anyone would be traveling the back roads of East Tennessee in a blizzard.

He swung his gaze to hers. She looked back. He was good looking, in a disheveled, dark-whiskered, s.h.a.ggy-hair-that-needed-a-trim sort of way. It fell in waves around his face. He shoved a hand into the ma.s.s and pushed it back toward his crown. He stood, stumbled, then found his balance and moved her way. She looked away and took another long draw on her drink, not sure she wanted company but nevertheless intrigued by the dark stranger whose high-end, designer clothing said he didn't fit in a dive like this. She chuckled again. She supposed she looked like she didn't fit either, but the selection of bars in the heart of the Bible belt were not wide or varied.

He sat next to her without asking her permission. His empty gla.s.s had been abandoned at his previous spot at the bar. The bartender set another in front of him without asking, making Frannie rea.s.sess. The guy must be a regular.

He swallowed half his drink, set the tumbler down on the bar and said, "What brings you to a place like this in a snowstorm?"

Frannie took a drink as well. Her whole body was warm now. "I could ask you the same question."

"If you were from around here, you'd know." He had another sip of his drink and turned back to her. He took his time looking at her. "You don't belong here."

Emboldened by the whiskey, she looked her fill of him as well. The warmth radiating to the rest of her body from her midsection shifted lower. "Where do I belong?"

They were sitting close, too close, but she noted the fact too late.

"Is this a guessing game, then?"

"I don't play games."

"Everybody plays. Not everyone wins." He swallowed the rest of his drink. "What's your name?"

She considered for a moment, then said, "Frannie."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Patrick."

He held out his hand and she looked at it, then twenty-seven years of breeding kicked in and she offered hers. His fingers were warm and well-shaped. This wasn't a man who worked with his hands. He was a professional of some sort. Maybe he was a lawyer, too. He had that air about him, like he'd stripped off a jacket and tie and left them in an expensive car before coming into the bar.

"You have nice hands," he said, still holding hers in his. He brushed his thumb across the ring she wore. Her college ring. She didn't miss his glance at her other hand to see if she wore a diamond or wedding band. "What brings you here, Frannie?" he asked, his thumb now moving back and forth across her knuckles.

Her hand felt good in his, human contact felt good after so much loss and emptiness, so she traced the lines of his palm with her fingertips. "I needed a drink."

He chuckled. "I think you had two, not that I'm counting."

She smiled. "And I'm still not drunk, so I think I need another."

He lifted his chin, looking at the bartender, taking care of her request. She brought the drink to her lips and downed it in one swallow. She resisted the urge to cough and ruin the effect.

"Impressive," he noted with a raised eyebrow. "Better?"

She smiled, but her hair fell like a curtain separating them. He pushed it back, leaving her face and neck exposed and vulnerable to him. He leaned in, his bourbon-laced breath warm on her cheek, his dark stubble not unpleasantly rough against her cheek. He sighed and nudged her ear with his nose, his warm lips caressed the lobe.

She should move away, but the whiskey and the sadness pressing on her soul interfered with Frannie's ability to act like the proper young lady her mother had raised her to be.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, but pressed another kiss to the vulnerable spot behind her ear. He put his arm along the bar in front of her and slid the back of his fingers along her jaw until their gazes locked again. Raw pain flowed between them. They both wanted to feel something else-needed to feel anything else. So she leaned in and tasted his lips.

Chapter 16.