Reflection Point

chapter TWENTY-ONE





Savannah flipped her OPEN sign to CLOSED, then shut and locked the door to Heavenscents. The memorial service for LaNelle was due to begin in twenty minutes.

It had been a sad three days. Having attended only two meetings of the quilt group, Savannah had not known the other woman well. She had liked her, though. LaNelle had had a plainspoken manner and an inherent kindness that had reminded Savannah of Grams. Her death had hit Sarah especially hard, and Savannah had been glad to hear that Sarah and Cam’s daughter, Lori, was coming home for the service.

She arrived to find Saint Stephen’s overflowing with people. Mac Timberlake saw her and approached. “Ali saved a spot for you with the other quilters, Savannah. They are up at the front.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

She joined her friends. Sarah introduced Lori, a beautiful young woman with her father’s height and eyes and her mother’s smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lori, though I’m sorry it’s under circumstances like these.”

“Me too. My mom sent me a basket of your soaps. I like them a lot.”

“Thanks.”

Savannah was distracted by the sight of Zach, who escorted Celeste to the pew reserved for the members of LaNelle’s quilting group, the Patchwork Angels. Their eyes met, and he nodded, but she couldn’t read his expression. Then Zach smiled warmly at Lori Murphy and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. Savannah tore her gaze away to find Sage eyeing her with a quizzical look. She was glad when the swell of organ music signaled the beginning of the service, and when beside her Nic began to cry, Savannah linked her arm with her friend’s, silently offering support.

It was a nice service, and afterward the mourners gathered at Angel’s Rest for an informal reception. As it wound down, members of the quilting group congregated upstairs in the attic workroom, where, with LaNelle’s instructive assistance, the Patchwork Angels had stitched their quilts and bonded in friendship.

“I thought it appropriate that we take time today to stitch and celebrate. While it’s true we lost our dear friend LaNelle too soon, we can take comfort in the fact that she’s in a place where her shears will never get dull.”

“Oh, Celeste.” Sarah clapped her hands to her head. “I know this sounds terrible, but I’ve heard all the uplifting sentiments I can bear today.”

“Jeez, Mom. Put a muzzle on her, why don’t you,” Lori said, then added to Celeste, “You say whatever you like, Celeste. You always know what to say, and it always helps. Honestly, sometimes what you said saved my sanity.”

Sarah’s head came up, and Savannah recognized worry in her eyes as she looked at her daughter. Celeste smiled and reached out and patted Lori’s arm. “Your mother has a point. I’m feeling sentimental today, and that’s when I tend to get a bit … well …”

“Preachy?” Nic and Sage said simultaneously.

Everyone laughed, and the sound was a welcome change. “Not preachy, I think. Philosophical. Which brings to mind a quote from Seneca that I consider particularly appropriate for today: ‘The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.’ I think we should celebrate LaNelle’s birthday.”

Sarah groaned, but the sound was somewhat lighter. Not for the first time, Savannah recognized that Celeste had a golden touch with words—which suited her, since gold was obviously her favorite color.

“And of course, I’d be remiss not to mention Socrates, who said, ‘Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.’ ”

Ali looked at Sarah. “You should know by now that there’s no stopping her.”

“I know,” she replied with a sigh.

“And of course, I simply cannot fail to mention Bob Dylan: ‘Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.’ ”

Savannah shared a confused look with her friends. Finally, Lori asked, “What does that have to do with death or LaNelle?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s fun.” Celeste smiled beatifically when Sarah burst into laughter. “Now, let’s stitch for a bit, shall we?”

They picked up their needles, scissors, and rulers and went to work. Eventually the women who had known LaNelle the best began to share stories about their friend, and, in doing so, offered one another comfort.

At the end of the evening, Savannah and Sage walked home together. It was a beautiful summer evening, cool and clear with a slight breeze perfumed by the flowers that lined the streets. Savannah felt better than she had in days. Well, actually, two weeks. “That was nice. It was almost as if … well …”

“Broken hearts healed a little?” Sage asked.

“Well, yes.”

“That’s Celeste’s specialty. And speaking of such things …” Sage’s eyes sparkled. “Did you happen to notice who didn’t fully participate in the champagne toast to end the evening?”

Savannah nodded. “Actually, I did.”

“I think somebody might be expecting.”

“I wondered about that myself.”

“For a minute there, I thought we might get an announcement.” Sage glanced up at the starry sky and sighed, “If it’s true … oh, Savannah … joy will fill my heart to overflowing. Racer is going to need playmates his own age.”

Savannah grinned. “You’re calling him Racer, too?”

“Did I do that?” Sage winced. “Curse that husband of mine.”

“Well, I hope there’s something to it.” They crossed the footbridge over Angel Creek and Savannah added, “It feels fitting to me. Death and life. I’ve had enough death for a while. I’d really enjoy some life.”

Sage gave her a sidelong glance. “Then why did you dump Zach?”

“I didn’t dump Zach!” Savannah stopped abruptly. She hadn’t dumped him. She’d just … rejected his love. “Why is everyone saying that? Did he say something?”

“Zach hasn’t said squat to anyone as far as I know. That’s what we’ve speculated. He seems to be kinda cranky.”

“That’s because he’s trying to find who’s responsible for the death of our friend,” Savannah fired back. Immediately she regretted it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be Debbie Downer. I just don’t want to talk about Zach.”

Sage slipped her arm through hers. “Okay. Just let me say one thing. He is a good man.”

“He’s definitely a man.” She deliberately changed the subject. If one more person told her how good Zach was, she would scream. I know he’s good. He’s Sheriff Andy. “I didn’t have a chance to talk to Colt today, and I wanted to thank him for sticking up for TJ at the pub last night.”

“Heard about that, did you?”

“First thing this morning.”

“I heard Gabi Romano has knocked on the door of half the residences in town asking questions. The sooner they can find who stole that sign, the better for everyone.”

They’d reached the intersection of Cottonwood and Fourth, and they waited for a pickup to pass before stepping out into the street. “I asked TJ if he knew anything about it,” she confessed. “Not that I thought he did it. Despite his attitude, TJ is a smart kid.”

She reconsidered that observation when she entered her kitchen a few minutes later to find the bread, peanut butter, jelly, and chips spread across the countertop, and the slow cooker filled with beef stew she’d made early that morning untouched.

“The least he could do is clean up after himself,” she muttered before walking to the base of the stairs. In a loud voice filled with frustration she called, “TJ Moore, you come down here right now!”

The call came in while Zach met with his deputies to go over the day’s events. Ginger knocked on his office door and said, “Sheriff, I think you should take this.”

“All right.” He picked up the receiver and punched the button of the line that was blinking. “Sheriff Turner here.”

The voice was little more than a whisper, disguised—a towel over the receiver, if he had his guess—but he could tell it was a young person. Boy or girl, he wasn’t certain.

The two short sentences sent his stomach plunging. The line disconnected before he could ask any questions. “Ginger! I need the caller ID on that number.”

“I’m on it, boss.”

Zach considered his next move. Ordinarily he’d follow up a call like this one by knocking on the suspect’s door and asking to have a look around. Under these particular circumstances, he’d better do everything by the book.

Ace wandered over to rub against Zach’s legs, and he absently petted his buddy as he thought through his choices. LaNelle had been a good woman. She deserved justice.

He picked up his phone and placed a call. “Judge? Zach Turner here. I need a search warrant.”

TJ lay sprawled across his bed, his mind spinning, his stomach rolling with nausea. He never should have eaten that peanut butter sandwich, but years ago when his great-grandmother made him peanut butter sandwiches, it had always made him feel better.

Tonight the sandwich sat in his gut like a rock.

He was so screwed.

Maybe he should steal Aunt Savannah’s money and run away. She hadn’t gone to the bank that day, and between her wallet and the cash bag, she probably had three hundred dollars he could snatch. He could steal her car while he was at it. He knew how to drive, since he’d been driving his dad home from bars for years. Although the crappy old Ford probably wouldn’t get him over Sinner’s Prayer Pass.

You could tell her the truth.

“Just shoot me now,” he muttered.

Savannah stabbed a carrot with her fork. The stew tasted very good, but she’d lost her appetite after she’d lost her temper with TJ. So he’d made a mess in the kitchen. Big deal. He’s fourteen. That’s what fourteen-year-olds do. It’s no reason to go total shrew.

She’d taken out her own bad mood on him, and that shamed her.

Savannah set down her fork, carried her plate to the sink, and rinsed it. Then she did something she’d done only rarely since TJ had come to live with her. She climbed the stairs to the attic room and knocked on his door. “TJ, may I come in?”

Twenty seconds ticked by before he said, “It’s your house. Do what you want.”

If that was the way it was going to be, she thought, maybe she should forget the apology. For tonight, anyway. She could go back downstairs and take a long, hot bath and try to relax.

But no. That wouldn’t be right.

She stepped into the room to see him lying on his bed fully dressed, his back to her. She moistened her lips, then said, “Teej, I want to apologize to you. I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I had a long day and I was sad and I think … well … it’s totally stupid, but my feelings were hurt because you didn’t eat the stew I made for supper.”

He rolled over and gave her a look that said, You’re crazy. “You didn’t leave a note. I didn’t think I was supposed to eat it. I thought it was funeral food. I was hungry, so I ate a sandwich.”

“Funeral food?”

“Yeah, you know. People make stuff and take it. Everybody knows that.” He looked at her with disgust.

“Oh. I took mine over this morning. Green bean casserole.”

He shrugged, and she added, “I’m an idiot. Forgive me?”

“It’s no big deal. I’m used to being yelled at. Dad liked to yell.”

Savannah nodded and took a seat in the lawn chair he’d purchased at a yard sale. “I remember that about Gary. He had that great big baritone voice. He used to scare me, but I liked it that he didn’t hold a grudge. He’d yell, but then it was over. Next thing I knew, he’d be hugging me.”

“Yeah.” TJ sat up. “Dad likes to hug, too.”

“Have you told him what’s going on here?”

His expression went wary. “What do you mean?”

“Have you told him what happened between you and Aiden Marshall?” When TJ didn’t respond, she elaborated. “I thought that maybe he could give you some guidance on how to deal with the problem.”

Defensively he asked, “Did I say there’s a problem?”

“Every day.”

He folded his arms but said no more. Savannah continued, “I knew a boy like Aiden when I was growing up. The rich, handsome athlete whom the other kids fawn over. He got a football scholarship to college, but later I heard he flunked out. I wasn’t surprised. He was a jerk who cheated his way through high school.”

“Aiden is an ass.”

It was obvious from his expression that TJ intended to say no more on the matter, but Savannah was encouraged. This was a start. “Are you still hungry? There’s plenty of stew, and Mrs. Murphy sent some of her raspberry pinwheel cookies home with me.”

“I’m really not hungry, Aunt Savannah.”

Baby steps, she told herself. “Well, if you change your mind, come on downstairs.”

In the kitchen, she stored the leftovers and loaded her plate into the dishwasher. She’d just placed the slow cooker into the sink to clean when she heard a knock on her door. She glanced at the clock. It was after nine. Who would stop by here that late?

Grabbing a tea towel, she dried her hands as she walked to the door. A familiar form stood in the glow of her porch light. Savannah’s breath caught. Zach!

She couldn’t help but smile. Had he been as miserable as she’d been these last few weeks? Was he ready to try again—on her terms?

Just what are your terms? Do you even care? What does it even matter? He’s back!

Hope lifted her heart and her smile was wide as she opened the door. “Hello, Zach. I’m so glad …”

Her sentence trailed off and her smile faded. He wasn’t smiling. His expression looked grim. He wasn’t alone, either. Gabi stood behind him, her expression as dark as his. Martin Varney was with them. Three of them? Why? Apprehension washed through her. “What is it?”

“Is TJ home?” Zach asked.

“Yes. He’s up in his room.”

“Would you call him, please?”

He didn’t come in. He was wearing his uniform. His badge. His gun. His lawman’s stare. Fear washed through her. “What is this about?”

“I need you to call your nephew.”

“Why? Why are you here?”

Zach entered Heavenscents and handed Savannah a sheet of paper. He was cold. He was detached. He’d been her lover … and now he was like an iceberg. “Gabi, go up and get TJ. Savannah, I need you to step outside. That is a warrant to search the premises.”

She glanced at the document, saw words that made no sense. A sick, helpless feeling rolled through her. “A warrant! What … why …?”

Zach gave Martin a pointed look. He stepped forward and took Savannah by the elbow. “Ms. Moore, please.”

Panic had begun to set in, and Savannah reached out to touch Zach. He jerked away. Oh, God. Savannah planted her feet. “Zach Turner, talk to me!”

He wouldn’t talk to her. He wouldn’t even look at her. Instead, he stood turned away, his jaw set, his hands braced on his hips until TJ came downstairs, followed by Gabi. Savannah found TJ’s bewildered expression reassuring. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

Zach said, “You need to step out onto the porch now.”

In that instant, Savannah’s fear turned to rage. His wasn’t the voice of her lover or even a friend. This was the cop who had rifled through her trunk in the wake of the car accident. It was the detective who’d fired questions at her in that uncomfortable little interrogation room. It was the prison guard who’d made sexual remarks as he slammed the cell door behind her.

She shot an accusatory look toward Gabi, then lifted her chin. “Come on, Teej. The sheriff is ordering us from our own home.”

With the palm of her hand, she shoved open the screen door. Just as she stepped out onto the porch, she heard Zach say, “Savannah, wait.”

He strode to Heavenscents’ checkout counter and lifted the portable phone from its base. Crossing the room, he looked her directly in the eyes for the first time since his arrival and handed her the phone. Concern clouded his blue eyes. “Call Mac.”

Anger drained away and fear returned. Mac. He wouldn’t tell her to call a lawyer unless he thought she needed one.

Outside, she took hold of TJ’s hand and guided him off the porch and halfway down the front walk. Speaking softly so that Martin Varney couldn’t overhear, she said, “Tell me the truth, TJ. Do you know what they are looking for?”

He shook his head as if clueless. “No.”

“You have no idea?”

“No! Who is Mac? Why did he say for you to call him?”

“Mac Timberlake is my friend Ali’s husband. He’s a lawyer.”

“A lawyer!” TJ’s eyes rounded with fear. “Why do you need a lawyer? What did you do? Oh, shit. You’ll go to jail, too, and I won’t have anywhere to go. They’ll try to send me to foster care. I won’t go. I’ll run away.”

“TJ!” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “I didn’t do anything. Not then and not now. That’s the truth. But you had better be straight with me, too.”

His gaze slid away from hers. “I didn’t do anything they need a search warrant for.”

Something was there, she thought. But she didn’t have time. She needed to make the call to Mac.

Ali answered the phone. Savannah said, “Ali, it’s Savannah. I don’t know what’s going on, but Zach showed up here a few minutes ago with a search warrant. He told me to call Mac.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, Ali. Please, can I talk to Mac?”

“I’ll put him on the phone.”

Her voice trembled a little as she outlined the situation for Mac. He replied, “I’ll be right there. Don’t you or TJ say anything. If they ask you any questions at all, tell them I instructed you not to answer and that I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

She no sooner hung up the phone than Zach stepped out onto the porch. “Did you call Mac?”

“He’s on his way.”

Zach nodded, then said something to Varney. The deputy went out to the sheriff’s truck and retrieved a small black case and a camera bag. Both men disappeared inside.

“They found something,” TJ said.

“Yes.” It was in that moment that Savannah acknowledged the fear that had grown inside her from the instant she’d recognized that Zach hadn’t come to patch things up between them. “They found the stolen stop sign, didn’t they?”

TJ’s chin dropped, then he shut his eyes. “Oh, crap.”

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. What do I do now? How the hell had he gotten himself into a fix like this?

He tried to think, to consider what choices he had, but that was all but impossible to do because his aunt had taken hold of his arm and started squeezing it and her eyes were looking a little wild. “You lied to me not five minutes ago.”

He couldn’t concentrate.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap.

“TJ, talk to me. You have to talk to me.”

He heard the door open and Gabi came out onto the porch. Savannah said, “No. Don’t say a word. Say nothing until Mac gets here.”

Then, to his horror, his aunt started to cry. She dragged him into her arms and hugged him hard and whispered in his ear. “I love you, Teej. It’ll be okay. Somehow we’ll make it okay.”

He wiggled away from her and did the only thing he could think to do. “Don’t cry, Aunt Savannah. I didn’t do it. I didn’t take the stop sign. I’m innocent.”