Unfinished Business (16 page)

Wendell’s face changed from jovial to grim.
“Found the cabin. Empty, of course. No sign of Huron. But there was
plenty of blood, so no doubt it was the right place. Door stood
wide open. No way to know whether he came back and found the boy
gone, or whether he never came back at all. I posted a guard up on
the road, just in case. And our CSI team’s going over
everything.”

A CSI team? Why?

“It’s a crime scene,” Wendell said when I
asked. “We’ll be confirming that it’s Rafe’s blood. And we’re
looking for proof of who was there with him. Fingerprints, hair,
fibers.”

“But he told you who was there.”

“Proof’s always helpful,” Wendell said. “We
also have to try to figure out who the place belongs to. Tomorrow,
when the Wilson County courthouse opens and we can get access to
the records.”

“I might be able to help you with that
today,” I told him. “I have access to real estate records of
various sorts. If you give me the address, I can try to dig up that
information today, so you don’t have to wait.”

He shook his head. “I wish it were that
easy, darlin’. But the cabin’s in the middle of nowhere. No street
name, no street number. No mailbox. It’s like the place don’t
exist.”

“It has to exist. Somewhere.”

“I’ll draw you a map,” Wendell said. “Maybe
you can figure it out. But I swear to God, if there was a street
name or a number, the boys and I didn’t see it.”

“I can at least try. It’s better than doing
nothing. And maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Wendell nodded. “Why don’t the three of you
head home and get cleaned up. It’s been a long night. The boys and
I’ll hold down the fort for a while.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave Rafe,
but a shower and clean clothes—not to mention the thought of
brushing my teeth—sounded really good. And if Wendell and the boys
would make sure nothing happened to him... “You won’t leave him
alone, will you?”

“Not until you get back,” Wendell said. “I
need to take his statement, anyway. In a lot more detail than what
we got last night. I don’t imagine you’re gonna wanna stick around
for that.”

He imagined right. The details I’d already
heard had been quite enough. I didn’t need any more food for
nightmares.

“Maybe we’ll just go home for a bit,” I
said. “And get cleaned up.” Take a shower, change, brush my teeth.
“Dix needs to get his jacket, too.” And Mother had left her purse
at the house, it seemed. At least she didn’t have it with her.
Although I suppose it might be in Dix’s car. “Then they can drive
home to Sweetwater, and I can come back in my own car.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wendell said. “I’ll
keep the boy occupied.”

“And safe.”

He nodded. “That, too.”

I glanced at the bed, but Rafe was deep in
conversation with José, while Jamal and Clayton leaned in to
listen. “I don’t want to disturb him.” He looked happy. “Just tell
him where I went, OK? And that I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Wendell said he would, and Mother, Dix and I
walked out the door, down the hall, and out into the sunshine and
heat of another June day.

We piled into Dix’s SUV and headed out of the lot. And I think we
were all tired, because no one spoke for several minutes, other
than, “Which way at the light?” and “Take a left at the bottom of
the hill.” We passed the Stor-All facility where Rafe and I had
broken into Brenda Puckett’s storage unit almost a year ago, and
then the Congress Inn, where Jorge Pena, hitman, had stayed during
his trip to Nashville, and where Rafe had spent a night turning
himself into Jorge before leaving. That was where I had told him
about David’s existence for the first time, just before he headed
out of town to take down Hector Gonzales.

“I have to call David,” I said. “And let him
know that Rafe is back, and OK.” Or mostly OK.

Dix glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“Probably a good idea.”

“I’m sure he’ll want to see his father,”
Mother added, quite nicely. I chalked it up to a mostly sleepless
night and an overload of stimulation, and kept my mouth shut.

“I’m sure he will,” I agreed instead. “I’m
not sure he should, though. Or that he’ll be able to. I think he’s
spending another week at camp. Ginny might not want to take him out
just so he can go to the hospital and see his father carved up like
a Thanksgiving Day turkey. It might be better for him not to know
exactly what happened.”

Dix shrugged.

“And anyway, I’m not sure Rafe would want
him to come.”

Mother looked scandalized, and I added,
since she obviously hadn’t thought about it, “Hernandez is still
out there. He might be watching. And David looks enough like Rafe
that Hernandez could probably guess who he is. Just imagine if he
kidnaps David.”

There was a moment of silence while we all
imagined it, and shuddered.

“I think I’ll just call Ginny,” I said.
“Tell her Rafe’s back and doing all right, but that it would be
better for David to stay where he is. He can see Rafe after camp is
over. By then, hopefully they’ll have caught Hernandez.” And Rafe
would have had a week to heal.

Mother nodded. “That makes sense,” she
said.

She was being so nice that I continued the
conversation. “I’m sorry all this happened. I know you just came up
for a nice, simple wedding ceremony.”

“Stop apologizing,” Dix ordered. “You didn’t
want this any more than the rest of us. I’m just glad Collier’s
back, and in one piece.”

Me, too. Mother, of course, didn’t concur,
but then I didn’t expect miracles. And anyway, I’m sure she did
agree. She doesn’t want him—or anyone else—to suffer. She just
doesn’t want him for a son-in-law.

“You need to call Catherine,” I told Dix.
“Take a right at the corner up here. Tell her you’re coming home.
She’d probably like to know that Rafe is back, too.”

“When we get back to the house,” Dix said,
taking the right at the next corner, onto Potsdam. “And yes, I’m
sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

“I appreciate the two of you staying. It
made things easier.” Amazing as it sounded, having had to deal with
them had given me something to focus on other than the fact that
Rafe was missing. And when he came back, having someone else in the
house, and someone else to drive to the hospital, had been a big
help. I’m not even sure I could have gotten him off the floor and
out to the car on my own.

Of course, I could have called for
help—Wendell or Grimaldi, or 911—but it would have taken more time.
Time I didn’t necessarily want to spend. Time when Rafe would have
been in pain.

“You’re welcome,” Dix said, “but you’re my
sister. And your fiancé disappeared. Anyone would have done the
same.”

“I guess maybe I’ve lived on my own too
long,” I admitted. “I’m not used to having family around.”

“We’re only an hour away, sis.” He turned on
his signal before I could respond, and added, “This is it,
right?”

I nodded. Mrs. Jenkins’s house sat at the
apex of the circular driveway, windows blinking in the bright
sun.

“You have a very nice house, Savannah,”
Mother said primly. My mouth fell open, and she added, “I’m not so
sure about the neighborhood, but the house itself is lovely.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t resist adding, “Rafe
did a good job on the renovations.”

Mother didn’t answer, and Dix rolled his
eyes at me in the mirror. We pulled to a stop behind the Volvo in
the driveway, and he cut the engine.

“I can’t wait to get out of these clothes
and in the shower,” I told him, and opened the car door and swung
my legs out. The dress I was wearing was the same one I had worn
yesterday. Now it had Rafe’s blood on it, in addition to being
wrinkled and sweaty, and I felt sticky and gross.

“I believe I’ll wait until we get home,”
Mother told me, exiting the front seat.

“Are you sure? I’m sure I can find something
that’ll fit you.”

She shook her head. “It’s just an hour’s
drive. And I’d like to soak in my own tub when I get there.”

I could understand that. Getting naked in
someone else’s bathroom, no matter how nice, is never as relaxing
as getting naked in your own.

“We’ll just grab our things and get out of
your hair,” Dix said, following me up the steps to the porch.

I nodded. “Thanks again for staying. I
really do appreciate it.” But he must be eager to get back to his
girls, and Mother to her bathroom.

I had already dug the key out of my bag, and
now I inserted it in the lock.

“Don’t mention it,” Dix began, and then
wrinkled his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“The door’s unlocked.” I withdrew the key
and dropped it back in my purse while I reflected that this was
uncannily like the first time I’d been here, the first Saturday in
August. The door had been unlocked then, too. And Brenda Puckett
had been dead inside.

Mother cleared her throat. “I think we may
have forgotten to lock it,” she said. “In the middle of the night.
The two of you were busy getting Rafael into the car, and darling,”
this was addressed to me, “I don’t recall that you locked the door,
or that you asked me to do it.”

Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t recall
doing it, or asking her to do it, either. Too concerned about
getting Rafe in the car and to the hospital ASAP. “Oops.”

“Let me guess,” Dix said. “The place will be
a mess and everything of value gone.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Most of
the neighbors know that Rafe works for the TBI. His being here
means that there’s a bit less crime in the neighborhood. They’re
all happy about that, so they tend to leave us alone.”

“We should still take a look around before
we go,” Dix said, and since I was a little jumpy—shades of finding
Brenda Puckett in front of the fireplace with her throat slit last
year—I told him, sincerely, that I hoped he would, even though I
didn’t expect us to find anything at all.

We walked through the house as a group, just
as we had yesterday, when I’d shown everyone around. There was no
body in front of the fireplace in the library, and nothing
whatsoever wrong in the dining room. The TV was still in the
parlor, and since it’s one of those manly flat-screens of oversized
proportions, that seemed to me to be definite proof that no one had
been in the house. Anyone looking for stuff to fence would have
grabbed that.

The kitchen looked just as it had when we
went to bed last night, and Rafe’s sink full of red water was still
in the half bath, ice cold now. I pulled the plug, and watched the
water swirl down the drain, leaving a pink ring behind. “I’ll have
to clean this up.”

There was plenty of blood on the floor, too.
Anyone who walked into the half bath without knowing the situation
would probably suspect that someone had committed a crime here. Or
had had one hell—heck—of a nosebleed.

“There’s blood on the floor in the hallway,
too,” Dix said, pointing to a trail leading from the door of the
bathroom to the front door. As well as in front of the staircase to
the second floor. And... up the stairs?

“I didn’t realize Collier went upstairs last
night,” Dix said.

I hadn’t, either. I hadn’t heard him come up
the stairs. He hadn’t woken me.

Or maybe he had. Maybe that’s what I’d heard
when I wasn’t sure I’d heard anything. “Maybe he came up looking
for help. But when he saw I was asleep, he didn’t want to wake me.
He knows I get tired because of the baby.”

Or maybe he had tried to wake me, and I
hadn’t roused.

God, what if he’d come upstairs looking for
help, and I’d been dead asleep so he’d had to go back downstairs
alone to take care of his injuries...?

“I’m sure it’s something like that,” Dix
said, without realizing that he’d just confirmed such a horrible
possibility. He headed up the stairs, careful not to step in the
blood that was spattered on every other step or so all the way up
to the second floor.

The trail led over to the door to my room—or
Rafe’s room. The master bedroom.

“I don’t remember seeing that last night,” I
said, turning to Mother. “We were up here together. Can you
remember?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, darling. I had
other things on my mind.”

Sure. I had, too. Like the fact that my
fiancé was bleeding to death—or looked like he was—on the floor
downstairs.

“I don’t remember closing the door, either.
I mean, I could have. With other people in the house, I might have
thought it would be more private.” And Mother had trained me to
always make my bed in the morning. An unmade bed is a sign of a
slovenly housewife. The fact that it had been the middle of the
night would have made no difference as far as my upbringing was
concerned.

So it was very possible I had closed the
door behind me when I came out into the hallway and saw Mother
coming toward me.

Nonetheless, my heart was beating faster
when I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle. And twisted
and pulled. And stumbled back, a scream caught in my throat.

Dix rushed up beside me, and stopped as if
he’d run into a wall. “Dear Lord.”

Mother peered over his shoulder into the
room, and turned pale. She, too, stepped back and fanned herself
with her hand. “Dear me.”

“Take Mother somewhere and make her sit
down,” I told Dix. Normally I’d be the one having the vapors, but I
was either becoming inured, or the fact that someone else was close
to passing out was bucking me up.

Dix grabbed Mother’s arm, but told me, “We
have to call—”

“I will.” My voice was, if I do say so
myself, amazingly steady for the circumstances. “I just want to
look at her first.”

Dix nodded and drew Mother away. “Let me
know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I don’t think there’s anything anyone can
do,” I said, “but I will.”