Joanna Wayne - The Amulet

“Just forget it,” he said. “I thought we might keep each other company for a while, but it’s no big deal.”

She bent down and picked one of the blossoms, then cradled it in her hand. With little left to say, he started to turn away.

Before he could, she walked toward him, took his right hand and pressed the flower into it. The petals fell apart and caught on the wind, flying around him like drunken butterflies. He caught one between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t want to forget it. I’d like to see you again,” she whispered. “But don’t look for me. I’ll find you when the time is right.”

He felt lighter than air when she walked away and disappeared behind the clusters of potted blooms. He’d never met a woman who intrigued him the way Katrina did. Tough that it had to happen now when he had his work cut out for him.

Timing was everything. Ask any cop who’d ever lived and they’d tell you that.

BY ONE THAT AFTERNOON, Rich and Carrie had made five calls on people from his list and stopped for sandwiches and coffee at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Cedar Cove. They’d discovered absolutely nothing new and Carrie was fighting the urge to taunt “I told you so,” by the time they pulled up in front of the small white house where Selma Billings lived with her husband Owen and at least three large dogs who looked as if they might think the deputies were their afternoon snack.

Even Rich stayed in the car until a man in overalls ambled out from the far side of the house and called off the barking animals. Still wary, Carrie remained inside the vehicle until it was clear the dogs weren’t going to fly into attack mode.

“Morning, Owen,” Rich said.

Owen yanked a red mechanic’s towel from his back pocket and wiped his hands before extending his right hand to Rich. “What brings you out here? Not more trouble at the hotel, I hope.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. Selma took it hard when that girl was abducted and killed. She’s been having a hard time anyway since she lost the baby. She miscarried, you know?”

“I didn’t know,” Rich said, “but I can see how that would be upsetting.”

“Yeah, good thing construction work is slow this time of the year. I’ve mostly been doing mechanic work around here. If you know anyone who needs their car worked on, send him to me. I can use the money what with Selma’s doctor bills and all.”

“I guess it’s nice that you’re a man of many talents.”

“It helps,” Owen agreed. “Have you got a suspect yet?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it. That’s why we’re here. This is Deputy Fransen,” he said, motioning toward her. “We’d like to ask you and Selma a few questions. It won’t take long.”

Owen turned to Carrie, nodded, then turned his attention back to Rich. “If I knew anything, I’d have called you.”

“Sometimes a man sees or hears something he doesn’t know is relevant, things that only add up when linked with the rest of the evidence.”

“I haven’t seen or heard anything about that night except what’s been in the papers and what folks around here are speculating. But I’ll talk to you long as you like. I just don’t want Selma dragged into this. She’s upset enough as it is. You understand, don’t you?”

He looked to Carrie as he made that last statement, as if he expected her to back him up. She did understand, but that didn’t change things. “We really need to talk to both of you,” she said.

He rubbed a work-scarred hand across his jaw, then shook his head. “She’s not in good shape, not good at all. She’s back on those pills Dr. George prescribed.”

“What kind of pills?” Carrie asked.

“They’re supposed to make her less depressed, but they don’t seem to be helping much. Besides, there’s nothing she can tell you. She hardly leaves the house anymore except to go to the grocery store or over to her mother’s.”

“Okay,” Rich said. “We’ll leave Selma out of this. We’re just trying to find something to help us get a handle on who might have committed the crime.”

“Hope I can help then. The guy needs to be locked away, whoever he is. Locked away or given a taste of his own medicine. Come on back to the garage. We can talk there. It’s warmer than standing out in this wind.”

Carrie wanted to protest. It wasn’t that she was insensitive to Carrie’s condition, but Maizie had said ask Selma about the mountains, and that was what Carrie had hoped to do.

Not that she was chasing ghost stories, but what seemed ghostly in the cold mists of twilight might have a perfectly logical explanation. What seemed to be a spirit could well be a living, breathing killer.

They were already following Owen to the garage when the front door of the house opened and a tall, thin woman dressed in jeans and a gray sweatshirt stepped onto the porch. Her long blond hair hung limply past her shoulders and her bangs reached her eyelashes.

“It’s okay, baby,” Owen called to her. “The deputies are just here to talk. We won’t bother you. Stay inside where it’s warm.”

“You can talk inside,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“That’s okay. We’ll use the garage.”

“I’ll bring out some coffee,” she said.

“No, don’t bother, baby. They won’t be here long.” He picked up his pace.

Carrie slowed, then turned back to the house. Selma was still standing there staring at them. She looked like a lost child. No wonder Owen felt he should protect her. Even the dogs had gone back to quietly sit at her feet as if they knew her emotions were fragile.

Selma hugged herself as if to ward off the wind’s chill, but she didn’t go back inside. She looked right at Carrie, and Carrie had the crazy feeling that she didn’t want her to walk away. Maybe she needed someone besides Owen to talk to.

“Your wife looks upset,” Carrie said, running to catch up with the men. “Maybe I should sit inside with her while you two talk.”

Rich glared at her. She ignored him.

“I won’t question her, Owen. I won’t talk at all unless she brings up something she wants to talk about.”

He pulled his lips taut and rubbed his chin again as if her offer required some major thought. “That might be good,” he said. “She could probably use some woman company. Just don’t upset her.”

“I won’t ask any questions about the abduction.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I guess it would be all right. She’s not well. Even if she talks, it won’t make sense.”

That was it—way easier than she’d imagined. Rich was still glaring, no doubt sure she wasn’t going to keep her promise. That’s how little he knew of her.

Carrie hurried to the house. And for the millionth time in the past few weeks, she wished Bart was here. He’d know just how to handle this.

Selma was still standing at the top of the steps when Carrie reached them. She didn’t even ask why Carrie had come back. She just walked to the door and opened it, as if she’d been expecting Carrie’s company all along.

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