Blind Faith (14 page)

His words barraged her. This wasn't Hal, the man who never raised his voice, who always shunned the spotlight, simply doing his job without fanfare or complaint. Sarah stared at him in concern. She'd been so buried by her own grief that she had been blind to the changes going on in her friend. What else had she missed?

"Never did need no charity. Not now, not then. What I need," he drew in a ragged breath and his voice lowered, "is for people to see the consequences of their actions. They need to know they can't just treat people like they're nothing."

"Hal, be careful, you might lose your job."

He snorted a short-lived laugh. "I don't give a shit about the job. This is about the town and the people in it. It's got nothing to do with any job. Come tomorrow, they'll see that. They'll understand."

She drew back in her seat, wrapping one hand around the armrest as they bounced onto the paved road leading into town. He braked hard, pulling up with a jerk in front of the Rockslide.

"You mind what I say, Sarah," he said as she opened her door and slid free from the passenger seat. "Tomorrow morning, you and Alan take off for the weekend. Don't try to interfere."

The staccato clacking of a man's boots against linoleum jolted Caitlyn awake. She rubbed her eyes, took a breath, trying to re-orient herself. Her heart refused to listen to reason, instead it sped up in excitement, just as it had every day of her life until she was nine.

That sound meant only one thing: her father was home. Every day, she'd listen for the sound of his footsteps as he'd walk up the path, cross through the kitchen and enter the living room where she'd be waiting. She'd abandon everything to race across the floor and leap into the air, certain he would catch her no matter how high she flew.

Those few moments in his arms were always the best part of any day. She'd never again feel so safe, so warm, so loved.

Idiot, she cursed her errant memories. Just meant the Chief wore cowboy boots. Like so many of these local yokels.

She straightened in her seat behind the single desk in the spartan office. After phoning when she stopped for gas outside Albany and being told it would be a few hours before the Hopewell Chief of Police could grant her an audience, she had finished her drive through the twisting mountain roads but had still managed to arrive before Chief Waverly. She'd called ahead to give him fair warning that the FBI was coming, to let him get his house in order, maybe even pull the Durandt case files so she wouldn't be wasting her time. Instead she'd been greeted by a yakky old shrew of a postmistress who refused to allow her entry to the Chief's office.

Like that would stop her. She hadn't quite had to go to the extreme of pulling her weapon, but after listening to the lady's yammering, it became a definite possibility. Once she convinced the postmistress, Victoria was her name, that yes, she was indeed a bonafide agent of the federal government, Caitlyn had proceeded to make herself at home in the Chief's chair while the postmistress kept up her monologue about terrorist activity and Homeland Security money and strange goings on at the dam and it was about time the government sent someone "real" to investigate it.

Finally, customers at the post office pulled the old biddy away. Caitlyn had taken advantage of the relative quiet to open her laptop and review her files.

And drift to sleep. Now she glanced through the open door that separated the post office from the police department. The afternoon sunlight backlit the man. He had a lean, Gary Cooper build, complete with a cowboy hat he hadn't yet removed, shadowing his face. His stride was that of a man accustomed to carrying the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and the weight of a gun on his hip.

He wore jeans and a khaki shirt with a small patch sewn onto the sleeve. No other insignia. A pair of aviator style sunglasses dangled from the neck of the white T-shirt visible between the unbuttoned top buttons of his uniform shirt. He came to a halt in front of his desk, his head tilting up, finally exposing his face as he raked her with an eagle-sharp gaze. He had high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, a narrow nose that had been broken at least once. A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw as he stood, staring down at her for a long, silent moment.

"Agent Tierney," he said in a slow drawl, drawing her name out as if he were savoring it on his lips. "Nice to meet you again. You've gained some weight. Looks good on you."

Caitlyn met his gaze, watched as amusement crowded out his annoyance. A smile parted his lips and she gave him one in return. "Chief Waverly. Nice to see you as well. Looks like you've lost weight. Been busy?"

They continued their staring match, neither conceding the contest for several seconds. Usually Caitlyn would have relinquished control of his desk, his environment, back to a local law officer—any little courtesy to convince them to give her full cooperation.

But Waverly struck a chord in her. When he looked at her just now something had sparked in his eyes, in the way his glance had lingered the tiniest bit too long on her lips, her body. Damn it if her body hadn't responded with an answering spark. She shifted in her seat. No, not spark, it was more than that.

More than she'd felt in a long time. But she'd be damned if she'd let him know that. Besides, she had work to do.

Work that should have her leaping from his chair, spouting off an apology for trespassing in his space, politely thanking him for helping her. But instead, she kept her seat—his seat—and fought him for control in an adolescent staring match.

His chuckle echoed through the tiny space, breaking the silence. He spun on his heel to toss his hat on one of the hooks beside the door, grabbed a metal chair and slid into it, his long, lean legs stretching out in front of him, ankles crossed. "What brings you back to Hopewell? Does it have anything to do with the corpse I just dragged out of the river?"

"Actually I came about the Durandt case."

His smile slid away as he straightened, one eye twitching at the mention of Durandt.

"I've found some irregularities."

His gaze darted to the door. "Guess you'd better come with me, then."

She scrambled from behind the desk, grabbing her bag and hurrying to catch up with him as he marched out the door without holding it for her.
Wow, mention Sam Durandt and look who's got a bee up his butt all the sudden.
Although, she had to admit, it was a rather cute butt. She caught up with him as he turned onto Main Street. "Where we going?"

"You ate yet? I'm starved."

"Lunch? It's almost four-thirty. Yes, I've had lunch."

"Well then, you can talk with Sarah while I eat." He paused before the Rockslide café and this time he did open the door for her, held it like a proper gentleman. "Seeing as she's the one who found the body this morning."

Caitlyn laid her hand on his arm, stopping him in the doorway. "Sarah Durandt?" she asked in a low voice. "She found a body on the mountain? Today?"

"Yep. From the looks of things, it's been there sometime. I'm not sure it will help you much. She's saying it can't be Sam." He nudged past her, calling out to the man behind the counter and asking for a bacon-cheeseburger.

Caitlyn stood there for a moment, trying to twist the permutations into a clear picture. When she looked up, all eyes were on her. The man behind the counter, Sarah Durandt's father she remembered, but couldn't fix on his name, held his spatula aloft as if it were a weapon. Hal Waverly's gaze seemed weary and bemused. He sat beside an older woman, Victoria, the post-mistress who'd almost induced her to commit felony assault earlier. Victoria cocked her head and flat out glared at Caitlyn.

Caitlyn stepped inside, the door closing with a bang accompanied by a jingle of bells. Sitting alone at a booth, her face flushed with sun, a full glass of lemonade in front of her, was Sarah Durandt. Sarah met Caitlyn's eyes without flinching although her lips flattened and went pale as recognition hit.

"You all remember Agent Tierney, don't you?" Waverly said in way of introductions. "From the FBI?"

"This isn't the time—" Sarah's father started, leaving his post at the grill despite the smoking slab of bacon behind him.

Sarah held up a hand, silencing him. Caitlyn marveled at the woman's composure. As Sarah's fingers tightened around her glass, Caitlyn caught a hint of what her control was costing. Ah, a kindred spirit—keep up appearances to the outside world, even if inside you're ready to shatter into a million pieces.

"Mrs. Durandt," Caitlyn said, taking the two steps she needed to reach Sarah's booth. She ignored the others although she was very aware they were listening closely. "I think I owe you an apology."

Sarah looked up, surprise flickering over her face before she replaced it with a fake smile, the kind reserved for strangers stumbling into a private conversation. "An apology?"

"When we met two years ago, I'm afraid I wasn't as sensitive to your needs as I should have been. There were—" Caitlyn broke off, searching for the right words to explain everything that had been battering at her during the time of the Wright investigation, "extenuating circumstances."

The words sounded flat. Sarah raised an eyebrow, then looked down to concentrate on her fingers wrapped around the sweaty glass of lemonade. "What do you want, Agent Tierney?"

"Just to offer my apology. And a chance to explain. Is there a place we can go to talk?"

Sarah shot a glance at the others eagerly listening, then stared at Caitlyn for a long, hard moment. For a second, Caitlyn caught a glimpse of the steel she'd seen in Sarah two years ago, the woman who would bend to the horror of her circumstances but who would never, ever break. Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly, then she nodded and slid out of the booth.

"Come with me, Agent Tierney."

Sarah left the eager ears at the Rockslide behind and led the FBI agent outside. Two boys zoomed past on skateboards but otherwise they had the street to themselves. She crossed Main Street to St. Andrew's. The brick church with its peaked roof and squared off bell tower would be cool and empty at this hour. She tugged on the heavy oak door and held it open for Caitlyn Tierney.

The FBI agent appeared very different from the last time Sarah had seen her. Back then, she'd looked gaunt, out of place with her ill-fitting clothes and pained expression. But now she radiated confidence and strength. Her hair was longer, styled in a shoulder length bob, her clothes simple but elegant, accentuating her curves without flaunting them.

"I was there," Sarah started, sliding into a pew beneath Josh's favorite stained glass window. St. George and the Dragon. "When they killed Damian Wright. He wouldn't tell me where he buried them." She looked down at her hands curled in her lap, her nails ragged and torn from her excursion on the mountain. Caitlyn's nails were short but smooth, her fingers slender and tapered like a musician's. She had pale, creamy skin that matched her auburn hair and blue eyes.

To her surprise, Caitlyn reached a hand to cover Sarah's. "I didn't know that. That took a lot of courage. Are you all right?"

No one had asked her that. Not in a long time, not meaning it, not wanting to know the answer. Sarah glanced up. Caitlyn's expression was open, concerned. "You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Sarah thought she was telling the truth. She sighed, the whooshing noise quickly devoured by the large, empty space. "I thought I would feel better, knowing that he was dead, that he couldn't hurt anyone else. I thought I would be able to, well, move on. Instead, it feels as if everything is moving on without me."

Caitlyn nodded. "Like you're trapped. Like you need to find a path out, some kind of closure."

"Exactly." Color from the stained glass window played off Caitlyn's pale skin and her blue jacket. Her silk blouse was cream colored with a watercolor splash of pale mauve flowers on it. A distinct contrast to Sarah's dirt-smudged Coolmax tank top. "But I realized no one can give me closure. I have to find it for myself. That's why I went up the mountain. I promised myself I wouldn't stop until I found Sam and Josh."