Memory of Murder. Ramona Richards

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СКАЧАТЬ nodded, her eyes wide. “Of course, I am. The restaurant has only been open six months. The commuters have gotten into the routine of stopping for my coffee before work, and I’m getting a crew of regulars who come in for breakfast. People are expecting me to be there. I can’t close when I’m perfectly capable of opening. That would be ridiculous.”

      “Lindsey, you are still in danger. What if he comes back to the restaurant and you’re hurt worse?” Jeff couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice. He never wanted to see her hurt again.

      “Do you really think someone would try again with a restaurant full of people?”

      “The point is we don’t know what will happen.”

      “Well, I’m not about to put my job on hold while you do yours.”

      “Lindsey—”

      “No.”

      Jeff sighed. “Why is that everyone’s favorite word tonight?” He looked at Ray, whose mouth twisted into a smirk. “What are you smiling at?”

      “Just thinking about how many times I’ve had a similar debate with my wife.” He looked at Lindsey. “If I didn’t know you were sisters, I would know you were sisters.” Ray’s wife, June, notorious for her quick temper and outspoken nature, had stood her ground against Ray and Jeff numerous times.

      After a few moments of silent impasse, Ray cleared his throat. “Lindsey, let’s compromise. We’ll go to the station tonight and get your statement. Then Jeff and I can pick up the investigation in the morning while you make breakfast. Will you agree to having a patrol cruiser in your lot?”

      She grinned. “Sure. Cops always know the best places to eat. It’ll be good for business.”

      * * *

      After a trauma, many people had trouble even remembering their own names. Not Lindsey. Jeff listened as she gave her statement, amazed at her clarity of memory and succinct descriptions of the evening’s horrifying events. As for himself, he could recall less now than earlier, and he remembered little of what happened after being stunned the first time. But even struggling to stave off exhaustion and the effects of the painkillers, he replayed the incident in his own mind as she talked, deconstructing every moment, every move. What could I have done differently?

      His sense of failure knifed into his chest with a pain sharper than the blow to his ribs. He’d not only fallen short as a deputy but as a man. When Ray had asked for volunteers for the nightly escort—obviously a favor for his wife—Jeff had readily stepped up. He hadn’t dated since his mother’s bout with breast cancer two years earlier, and when he’d met Lindsey at Ray and June’s wedding, Jeff had been immediately attracted by her charm, intelligence and determination to make a success of her dream to open a restaurant.

      And a little intimidated by that determination as well as her aloofness...until he realized that she worked hard to keep everyone at arm’s length—not just him. Even her own sisters didn’t know her well. When they both discovered he could make her laugh, a part of the shell fell away. They’d finally become close friends, and he’d hoped it would go further, but now...he’d failed her.

      Lindsey glanced at him as she finished her official description of the car and her assailant.

      He nodded his agreement; what she said matched what he remembered.

      Lindsey paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied him closer. “Are you all right?”

      Jeff sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders back. “Sure. The painkillers are taking full effect, but I’m all right. Go on.”

      Ray glanced at him, as well, then turned as Lindsey resumed her statement. For the first time, Jeff truly absorbed what had happened to her, how she’d caused the accident. Her strength astonished him. “You took an awful chance.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “I learned a long time ago that getting hurt is better than dying.”

      Jeff’s eyebrows arched up, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on every move she made as she finished. Every eye shift, muscle twitch. She looked at the digital recorder in front of Ray, occasionally glancing up at the sheriff. Lindsey’s expressions smoothed out as she talked, and she became almost motionless.

      In truth, this was the first time in the six months of their friendship that Jeff had been able to study Lindsey so closely. During their nightly rides, he mostly focused on the road as they headed from the diner to the bank, then to the small cottage Lindsey had rented. She had chosen a sweet but unadorned rental within walking distance of the restaurant. She told him the morning walk to work invigorated her, got her mind charged up for the day, but she was more than willing to let him drop her off at night.

      They only spent about thirty minutes each day together, but with her schedule, it seemed to be the only time she spent with anyone outside the restaurant. At first, she’d been exhausted and silent. Getting a word out of her had been like pulling teeth. But slowly, she’d shared more of each day’s drama. He got to hear about her employees, their lives, their problems. Customer issues. Supply holdups and new recipes. His responses often made her laugh, and she’d finally softened to him. He knew she was a believer and tried to get her to come to church with him, but she insisted that since Sunday was the only day the restaurant closed, she wanted to be alone, to rest, and read. She referred to it as “keeping the Sabbath,” and it was her time of silence and solitude after six days of being “onstage.”

      Lindsey’s rejection of his offer to take her to church had left a distinct but undefined pang in Jeff’s chest—which was when he realized that he was falling for her. For someone who probably wouldn’t return the emotion.

      Maybe she couldn’t. That thought stuck in his mind now as he watched her blue eyes focus on some far distance, beyond the recorder, beyond the walls. Her face barely moved, as if she’d been caught up in some long-ago event. He sat straighter, realizing why her behavior seemed familiar. He’d seen it, all too often, in other women....

      Clarity of detail, but almost no emotion. Jeff frowned. At the hospital, Lindsey had been animated, as if still pumped on adrenaline. Now she hugged herself and revealed no emotion, almost as if she’d done this dozens of times. Combined with her lack of response to her own injuries, as if getting tossed around and beaten up happened to her frequently, Lindsey suddenly seemed less like an accident victim and more like a battered wife.

      Or the battered child she’d been.

      Jeff had heard about the abusive childhood the three Presley girls—April, June and Lindsey—had endured and survived. Even though he didn’t know all the details, what he did know made him seethe with rage toward their father. He had abused them all, eventually killing both his wife and son in drunken rages. Is that what you’re remembering now? he silently asked her. Is that what makes you keep a distance from everyone?

      An odd image flashed in Jeff’s mind, and he blinked hard. An image of the GTO as it had pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and ground in a circle to face the exit again. Distance. He blinked again, tying to recall a mere glance at an image his police-trained mind had momentarily locked on.

      The tag.

      “Distance.”

      Ray and Lindsey faced him again. “What?” Ray asked.

      Jeff tapped the desk, the image СКАЧАТЬ