Beneath a Darkening Moon (25 page)

“Well, hard to say, because this woman and Candy
sure look alike. It’d be hard to tell ’em apart from a distance.”

Or if you had bad sight, like Lana did. Goose bumps ran over her skin, and in that moment she knew who had set the fire that had killed Lana. But knowing it was one thing, and proving it another.

“Did Candy ever visit Lana?”

“Yeah, twice a week. She used to clean up for the old girl—do her housework and the like. Lana said it was easier to pay someone than to do it herself.”

“I’d heard the old girl was a bit tightfisted.”

“Oh, she was, but over odd things. And it seemed she liked a clean house more than saving money.” He handed her back the photo. “Candy was there the day of the fire, cleaning up.”

Savannah raised her eyebrows. “What time?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t really looking at the clock, but it was after lunch.”

Interesting. She wondered what Manny and the fire marshal had made of this information—and if they’d interviewed Candy. “How long has she been living here?”

He frowned. “It’d have to be three or four months, at least.”

“I don’t suppose she said where she came from?”

“Why? Is she in trouble?”

Savannah shook her head. “No. Just curious.”

He shrugged. “She never really said, but then, we don’t talk all that much. If you want to know more about her, why not ask Anni Hawkins?”

“Anni? The lady who runs the flower shop over on Main Street?”

He nodded. “I’ve seen her visit Candy a few times.
She delivers flowers, like, but always seems to stay for a chat.”

Savannah smiled. While Anni delivering the flowers herself was a little unusual, her stopping to chat certainly wasn’t. And if there was any dirt to dig up on Candy Jackson, Anni would have uncovered it by now. “Thanks for your help.”

He nodded and glanced skyward again. “Be sure you’re inside by four, ranger. This storm is going to be a doozy.”

He closed the door, and she glanced up as she walked away. The clouds seemed to be getting darker by the minute, and the swirling wind was bitterly cold as it tugged at her ponytail and caressed her skin. But the shiver that ran down her spine wasn’t caused by either. Something bad was going to happen. Maybe not now, not here, but soon.

She glanced across to her car, but Cade had already gone. She scanned the street, but she couldn’t see a limping brown wolf anywhere. But the curtains in Candy Jackson’s house were still hitched slightly open, meaning someone was still watching.

She pulled out her cell phone as she walked across the road to interview Candy’s immediate neighbor.

“Kel,” she said, the minute the woman answered, “has Ike reported in yet?”

“No.”

Damn
. Worry began to gnaw at her insides again. “If he hasn’t reported in within the next hour, could you let me know? We’ll have to start a search.”

“Will do.”

Then she hung up and called the fire chief.

“Manny,” she said, when he finally answered. “Has the marshal finished his investigation yet?”

“Not yet,” Manny replied, sounding like someone who was barely awake. “Why?”

“I just wondered what you made of Rex’s statement that Candy Jackson visited Lana the afternoon of the fire.”

Manny yawned. “Rex needs his eyes checked. Ms. Jackson was sharing coffee and cake with three friends at your dad’s diner all afternoon.”

Another chill ran through her. Candy was at the diner? That wasn’t good. She really did have to talk to her parents, and as quickly as possible.

“Did you know she cleaned Lana’s house twice a week?”

“Yeah, but she said she’d changed that day’s appointment so she could meet her friends.”

“Then you’re not putting much stock in Rex’s report?”

“Not when so many people saw her at the diner.”

“What if I told you there’s a woman in town who could pass as Candy’s twin?”

“Then I’d have to say the marshal wouldn’t mind talking to her. You’re going to question her?”

“If we can find her.”

“If you do, let me know.”

“Will do.”

She hung up and rapped on the front door. Candy’s neighbor turned out to be a woman in her early thirties who had three screaming kids hanging off her apron, and who didn’t seem to realize the woman in the photo resembled Candy. Savannah tried several other houses, more for effect than any real desire to
ask questions. Then she finally moved toward Candy’s house.

The curtains closed as she opened the front gate. Music played softly inside—classical rather than modern. The melody sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before.

She walked up the front steps, scanning the front windows and the glass panels beside the front door. No movement could be seen, but someone was home. The delicious scent of baking bread filled the air.

There was no doorbell, so she rapped on the door. The sound seemed to echo, as if the house was empty. There was no immediate response, but just as she was about to knock again, footsteps approached. She slipped the plastic cover from the photo, holding it carefully by one edge as she shoved the cover into her pocket, out of sight.

The door opened, and Denny’s wet dream appeared—complete with micro skirt and barely there red top. There was, Savannah noticed, no bandage on her left arm, so it definitely wasn’t Candy who she’d attacked last night. But it
was
easy to see why the teenager had been willing to do anything this woman asked. He must have thought all his Christmases had come at once.

“Candy Jackson?” She flared her nostrils, taking in the scents flowing from the doorway. Aside from the rich aroma of baking, the air itself smelled musty and damp, like an old cellar that had been closed up for a very long time. There was also a hint of ginger, but it didn’t seem to belong to the house but rather to someone in the house. Odd, given Candy smelled of a mixture of citrus and cigarette smoke.

“What can I do for you, ranger?” The blonde caught a small rose-shaped pendant between two fingers and began running it back and forth across a gold chain.

“I was wondering if you knew this woman.” She held out the photo, but she held no real hope of getting Cade a fingerprint, for Candy obviously had no intention of opening the screen door, let alone touching the photo.

Candy’s gaze dropped briefly. “She looks like me.”

“Yes, she does.”

“It’s not me, you know.”

“No. Her name is Lonny Jackson. Is she your sister, by any chance?”

With the grubby screen door between them, it was a little hard to judge the woman’s reactions. Yet Savannah was certain she caught the flicker of amusement in the woman’s cold blue eyes. But her voice was as flat as ever as she said, “If she is, then she’s one I don’t know about.”

“So she could be a half-sister?”

Candy shrugged. “Possibly. My dad didn’t mind spreading it around. Of course, he’s been dead for quite a few years, so you can’t really ask him. What do you want her for?”

“To question her about an incident at Club Grange last night.”

“I was at the movies last night with several friends, so I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Won’t, not can’t, Savannah suspected. And for someone who had just been presented with a mirror image of herself, she was acting a little too calmly.

“Can I ask the names of those friends?”

Amusement briefly touched Candy’s pink-painted lips. “You don’t trust me, ranger?”

Not as far as I can throw you
. Savannah forced an apologetic smile. “It’s just routine. After all, this woman does look like you.”

“Ah.” Candy paused. “Arianne Marshall and Lisette Gordan.”

Another chill ran down Savannah’s spine. Candy had made friends with Ari, and Ari was the one person in town, besides Ronan, who knew just about all there was to know about her family.

“Weren’t you supposed to work last night?”

“Yeah, but the job sucks. I’m not going back. The old cow and her touchy-feely hubby can go to hell.” She hesitated. “Did she give you my address?”

“No. Apparently your employment details have gone missing from her files.”

“More likely the old bat’s misplaced them. Couldn’t organize herself out of a snowstorm.”

Candy didn’t look as if she could, either, but Savannah suspected that looks were deceiving. “Thanks for your help.”

Candy nodded and closed the door. Savannah shoved the photo back into the plastic cover and retreated down the stairs. As she passed the truck, she ran her hand over the hood. It was still warm. And the fender was dented.

But the windshield wasn’t smashed.

It wasn’t the same truck, even if she was sure it was the same driver. So where had Candy dumped the other truck, and how had she gotten this one?

Savannah took note of the plate number, then headed across the road to interview a few more
neighbors. Again, more for effect than anything else. Then she headed back to her truck. Cade was already inside, waiting. His face looked a little pinched. He was clearly in pain but refusing to admit it.

She resisted the urge to lecture him, knowing he’d only bite back, and slammed the door shut. “Anything?”

“Several interesting possibilities.” He shifted slightly and absently rubbed his leg. “The garage is a drive-through, and there’s a small alley at the back of the property that’s been well used.”

She started the engine and did a U-turn. “Nothing unusual in that.”

“It is when the inside of the front garage door has been chained shut.”

She frowned. “Why have a drive-through garage if you’re going to chain it shut at one end?”

“Exactly. The thing is, while that lock is rusted, the garage itself is still being used. There was a huge puddle of fresh motor oil on the floor.”

“There was a puddle in the parking lot last night, too.” She paused. “But none on the concrete at the front of the house.”

“Meaning she either uses the alley to get in and out most days, or there are two trucks.”

“Two blondes, two trucks. Makes sense.”

“And both living in that house.”

She glanced at him. “That’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it? I mean, surely the neighbors would have noticed.”

Though given the people she’d just interviewed, maybe not. Rex seemed to be the only one interested in neighborly goings-on.

“There were cigarette butts on the back porch—two
different brands.” He reached into his pocket and drew out several plastic evidence bags. “What do you want to bet we find different DNA on the butts?”

“That doesn’t mean there’s a second person sharing the house.”

“There are two bedrooms, and both of them are being used.”

She gave him a look. “I thought you were there to protect my back.”

“I decided you could protect yourself. And Candy didn’t have a weapon on her.”

“There was nowhere to put it, for a start.”

Cade chuckled. “There certainly wasn’t.”

Amusement ran through her. “And here I thought you were busy peering through bedroom windows.”

“Not just them. One of the living room windows gave me a really good view of both you and the woman. Once I knew she wasn’t armed, I moved on.”

“Why? Hot blondes not your type?”

“It depends on the blonde.” He reached out and lightly tugged her hair. “Why did you cut it?”

“Probably for the same reason you cut yours. It was impractical for my line of work.”

“That’s not the reason I cut it.”

“It wasn’t? So why did you cut it?”

“Because I was angry.”

“Angry?” she said, surprised. “At who?”

“You.”

“You cut your hair because you were angry at me?” She shook her head. “And they say women are strange.”

The sweet half-smile that twisted his lips just about
melted her heart. “Men can be just as illogical, believe me.”

Oh, she believed him. Especially since some of his dealings with
her
weren’t exactly high on the sanity list. But then, he’d been reacting in much the same manner as she had—with anger and in bitterness over the past. For her, that had finally begun to dissipate now that they were actually beginning to talk about it. Maybe it was for him, too. “So why were you angry?”

“Because you left Rosehall and I couldn’t find you.”

“But you wanted me to run, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not to hide.”

“So you cut your hair when I didn’t reappear. A totally understandable reaction.”
Not
.

He tugged gently on her hair again. “The light’s green.”

She glanced ahead and saw that he was right, then lifted her foot off the brake and cruised on. “Stop ducking my questions.”

“I’m not.” His fingers moved from her hair to her neck, his fingertips grazing her skin. Yet even that slightest of caresses had little shocks of excitement trembling across her body. “I’m just trying to decide the best way to phrase it.”

“Just give me an honest answer, however crazy it sounds, and I’ll be happy.”

“I cut my hair because you loved it, and I wanted to rid myself of everything that reminded me of you.”

“A very female reaction, I must say.”

“I got drunk first. Then I smashed up my house.”

“Ah. Well, that makes all the difference.” She glanced at him. “You know, you could have saved us
both a lot of heartache if you’d only mentioned the fact that you liked me—maybe even cared for me—at some point during our time together at Rosehall.”

“Not on a job. Not until I knew there was going to be a decent outcome.” He glanced at her. “That hasn’t changed, you know.”

“So you’re willing to admit that you cared for me then, but you’re not willing to admit you care for me now because the outcome of our current case is unclear?”

“Basically, yes.”

She grinned. “Which is essentially an admission anyway.”

His gaze met hers. “Yes.”

“I do so love a man who can express his emotions.”

He smiled. “We’re not ready for that yet, Savannah.”

“Be still my heart—he remembered my name.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you can be a bitch?”

“Many times.” Her grin widened as she pulled into a parking space a few doors down from the diner. Her dad’s car wasn’t there yet and she frowned, glancing at her watch. It was barely nine, but by now the diner should have been open and bustling for hours. She was just about to contact Neva when she vaguely remembered him saying something about getting the brakes checked.