Page 64 of Fatal Mistake
Tara stepped closer and took the necklace. “I remember the beads.”
Cal pointed at the gold backing of the oval pendant. “There’s something engraved there.”
“Odd.” June leaned over the necklace. “I don’t remember it being engraved.”
Tara lifted the cameo to inspect it, and Cal bent over her shoulder and read, “‘To Tara, my love.’”
Tara’s mouth opened and closed, but words seemed to fail her. Cal flipped over the medallion, revealing a black oval background holding an ivory skull and crossbones.
Tara gasped and stared at her aunt. “The cameo. He…he…” Tara shook her head. “Why would he deface his mother’s necklace like this?”
Cal couldn’t share Keeler’s addition of the skull and crossbones on the front of the bombs, but he would be an idiot if he didn’t acknowledge to himself that the change in this necklace held significance for their investigation.
June touched the front of the oval and jerked her finger away as if it might burn her. “And when did he do it? It’s been in the safe since he lost the farm, and he’s never taken it out.”
“At least not that you know about.” Cal’s imagination took a dark turn. He visualized the creep stalking through this house. Maybe when June had gone out or even when she’d slept upstairs. His fingers pawing through everything. Touching and messing with June’s personal possessions.
The queasy look on June’s face told him her thoughts moved in the same direction.
“Cal?” Tara’s big eyes, wide and filled with terror, fixed on his. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s not something I can discuss right now, but be assured, I’ll get to the bottom of what this means.” He closed his hand around the cameo to remove the visual threat and wished he could so easily remove the actual threat on Tara’s life.
Chapter 20
Tara approached the burned-out shell of the pump house and stopped at the fringe of the exploded mess. Her knees were weak and her palms coated in perspiration. If she wanted to remember anything, she had to get closer, but she couldn’t get her feet moving forward. She slid her fingers under the thickest rubber band on her wrist and snapped. Once. Twice. A third time, but her heart continued to trip along at an alarming rate.
Cal walked up to her, confidence in his steps. He didn’t speak or touch her, but having him at her side gave her the courage to move. She scrubbed her palms down her jeans and took the final steps into the ruins.
An acrid smell lingered in the air and charred fragments of wood lay on the ground. If she hadn’t called Cal that night, would she have died in an explosion? Or would Oren have simply shot her and hauled off her body? Simply, right. There was nothing simple about a gunshot. She’d experienced that firsthand.
She took a few more steps and tried to remember June’s potting bench, but the sight of the cameo wouldn’t leave her brain. Cal hadn’t explained the meaning behind the skull and crossbones, but with the inscription on the back of the necklace, she believed Oren had wanted her dead even before the pump house incident. Or perhaps, in his sick, twisted mind he thought if he gave her the necklace, her feelings for him would change, and she’d join his crazy world.
She slid a finger under the rubber band again.
Cal gently took her hand and pulled her fingers free. “I know this is hard.”
His voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket, but what touched her even more than his reassurance was his willingness to ignore his need for the same professionalism he’d mentioned in the car and hold her hand in front of his teammates standing guard at the perimeter.
She looked up at him and memorized every plane, every angle of his face and the compassion shining from his eyes. The coldness in her heart evaporated, and with him standing nearby, if she remembered the details of the night Oren had tried to kill her, the memories wouldn’t do irreparable harm.
She touched Cal’s cheek, a light whisper of her fingers, then lowered her hand. “Thank you again for saving me in the woods that night.”
He squeezed her hand. Dark anger, likely over Keeler’s crazy behavior, flashed in his eyes but vanished with a blink. “Why not remember the good times you’ve had on the farm? I’ve seen how much you love your aunt. You light up when you talk about growing up here. Don’t let Keeler take that away from you.”
Cal was right. She had a choice. She could listen to her emotions and let them color her attitude, or remember that feelings weren’t facts and didn’t convey truth. They were just feelings, and she could control them if she put her mind to it.
She extricated her hand and stepped deeper into the blackened wood. Ash filtered up and swirled around her feet like a living, breathing thing. Raucous sounds of scrub jays crying out in the trees mimicked her internal cry for help. She ignored it. Ignored the birds. Ignored her fear of Oren and closed her eyes.
She thought to pray, but she didn’t deserve the help. And yet she wanted it badly. She’d missed casting her cares on God. Had she been wrong in running and counting on herself alone? Maybe if she had stayed and asked for His help, all of this would be over already and three women would be alive.
Was she responsible for the additional women, her friends, losing their lives, or should she believe Cal and Shane when they said Keeler was the only responsible party here? Her fear fluttered away and guilt settled in, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. She’d use her remorse to drive her need to remember.
“You can do it, Tara,” Cal called out again.
She could. Yes, she could. She tried to pull up an image of Oren. Not the fun memories of growing up, but the expression that haunted her nightmares. As Shane had said, the boy of her youth was gone and she had to recall the man capable of shooting her and killing defenseless women.
Suddenly, the terrifying look he’d fired at her after she’d hit him with the board came back in vivid color. She’d slammed the heavy wooden plank against his chest. As he’d fallen, he’d caught her gaze, anger and hatred spewing from his eyes, but she’d ignored him, run hard and fast, turning to look back only one time. He’d gotten to his feet and chased her, a gun in his hand.
