chapter Ten
It looked as if he were attempting to hide, to blend into the lamppost itself. Adrenaline shot through Seth. Why would anyone be across the street from this house after dark?
He left the window and as he went through the living room he grabbed his gun from the kitchen table. He didn’t like things that didn’t make sense and it didn’t make sense that somebody was outside watching this house with Tamara inside.
As he approached the back door his heart pounded a hundred miles a minute. Maybe it was the killer, come back to look for a weakness in the house security that he could exploit in order to get to Tamara.
Quietly, Seth unbolted and unlocked the back door and slid out into the hot night air. His gun was a familiar, comforting weight in his hand and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if necessary.
With the stealth of a stalking cat, he moved slowly around the corner to the side of the house and then to the corner of the front of the house. He peered out and saw that the male figure was still there, although there was too much distance for Seth to specifically identify who he was.
He had no idea if the man was armed or not, but Seth had the element of surprise on his side. With a renewed burst of adrenaline he shot from the corner of the house and across the street. He threw himself at the person and tackled him to the ground as the man yelped in surprise.
Seth instantly got to his feet, the business end of his gun pointed to the man who was facedown on the concrete. “Get up and put your hands above your head,” Seth commanded. “And if you decide not to comply with my orders, then I’ll be happy to shoot you.”
As the man rolled over on his back, Seth stifled a gasp of shock as he looked into the frightened eyes of Sam Clemmons. “Don’t shoot me, man. I wasn’t doing anything.”
He raised his hands above his head, obviously recognizing the deadly intent in Seth’s eyes. “What are you doing lurking around out here?” Seth asked as he motioned for him to stand.
“Nothing, man. I wasn’t doing anything,” Sam exclaimed. Seth patted him down and found no weapons, then indicated he could lower his hands to his sides. “Last I heard it wasn’t against the law to stand on a street corner.”
“Depends on why you chose this particular street corner,” Seth replied.
Sam looked toward the house and then back at Seth. “I just wanted to see her, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure she was really okay.” He shifted from one foot to the other, a look of sheer misery on his features. “I just stood there, you know.” His voice was soft, barely audible. “While you and my friends were digging her out of the sand I just froze. I didn’t do anything to help her. I haven’t seen her since then and I just needed to see...to make sure that she was all right.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped forward and for a moment he just looked like a pathetic kid. “I have nightmares about it,” he continued, his gaze directed at Seth’s feet. “I dream that I’m riding the dunes and I ride right over her face...” He shuddered, as if the image in his head was too horrific to bear.
Seth wasn’t sure what to believe. Sam Clemmons knew the dunes probably better than anyone in town. He’d been at the scene of the discoveries of both Rebecca and Vicki. He was a maladjusted loner who had come from a difficult background. All strikes against him and yet Seth wasn’t sure what to believe about him.
He seemed genuinely distraught about how the events had unfolded on the day Tamara had been found. He also seemed concerned about her well-being, but for all Seth knew he could be a great actor covering his reason for being here.
Sam was right about one thing. It wasn’t against the law to stand on a street corner. He lowered his gun and scowled at Sam. “Go on, get out of here and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you anywhere around this neighborhood again.”
Sam gave a curt nod and then took off running in the opposite direction. Seth tucked his gun into his waistband, raked a hand through his hair and expelled a breath of tense air.
He knew from experience it would take a while for the adrenaline that flooded through his veins to dissipate. He entered the house the way he’d left it, by the back door. Tamara stood in the kitchen, clad in her sexy short pink nightie, her eyes wide as she clutched a butcher knife in one hand.
“Put that away before you cut off your own finger,” he said. “Everything is under control.”
She slowly lowered the knife. “What happened? I got up to get a drink of water and saw the back door open and you nowhere to be found.”
Her eyes still held a hint of panic as she set the knife on the counter. “We had a Peeping Tom of sorts,” he said. “I went outside to see who it was and what he was doing standing just across the street watching this house.”
“Who was it?”
“Sam Clemmons.”
“Wasn’t he one of the guys who found me?” She sank down at the kitchen as if her legs were too weak to hold her upright.
“Yeah, he’s the one who froze and didn’t help dig you out. It appears he’s suffering a bout of guilt over that and just wanted to get a look at you, assure himself that you’re okay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you believe that?”
“At this point I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I had no viable reason to arrest him and so I told him to scram.” He tried to keep his gaze focused on her face and not drifting down the length of her half-naked body. “Show’s over, go back to bed.” His voice was curt and sounded more like a command than a suggestion.
He could tell that his tone had irritated her by the way she whirled on her bare heels and stomped down the hallway. He felt a moment of remorse, but shoved it aside. It was time to withdraw from her, to remind both himself and her that this was all about a job and nothing more.
He slept on the sofa with one eye open for the remainder of the night and by morning his foul mood had only intensified. She was quiet during morning coffee, but didn’t appear to be mad and somehow that made it worse.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you last night,” he said once they were in his truck and headed for the sheriff’s office.
“It’s okay. I know you’re under a lot of stress.” She flashed him a bright smile. “This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you came here for a vacation.”
A night of his time here was far more than what he’d ever expected from a vacation, but he didn’t say that aloud. He didn’t want to think about the night he’d spent with her. “No, it wasn’t what I had in mind,” he agreed. “But I’m glad I was here. Sheriff Atkins would have probably requested some FBI presence anyway. It just made it easier with me already being here.”
He turned into the parking area in front of the sheriff’s office, shut off the engine and then turned to look at her. “I’m thinking of calling in some reinforcements from the bureau. I’ve got a buddy, Mick McCane, who I know recently finished up a case in Arkansas. Maybe he can come out and give us a fresh perspective on everything.”
She unfastened her seat belt and gazed at him somberly. “You know you don’t need to call in reinforcements. What you need to do is find a way to break through my mind, and if that means being hypnotized, then find somebody who can do that for us.”
“Are you sure that’s the way you want to go?” he asked, his heart stepping up his rhythm as he recognized once again what might lie ahead of them...of her.
“At this point I think it’s the only way you’re going to catch the killer. I have to go back, Seth. I have to go back to the moments before I landed in the sand dune. The key to solving the murders may be there and once that’s done we can both get on with our lives.”
And that was exactly what he wanted...wasn’t it?
* * *
THE BREAK ROOM WAS beginning to feel like home and half of the deputies on the force her family. Tamara sat at the table and stared absently at the tiny television that was mounted to the wall in the corner. A morning talk show was playing but she paid it no attention.
It had begun...the distancing from her by Seth. She’d known it was coming, knew it had to happen, but she hadn’t realized just how bereft she’d feel when it began.
The night they had spent together had obviously changed things for him, made him realize things between them were out of control, that her feelings for him were out of control and now he was backpedaling as fast as he could to get on firmer footing.
Despite the constant presence of the officers coming and going, she’d never felt so alone.
It was just after noon when Deputy Billy Broadwick came in carrying a fast-food bag that he set in front of her. “Agent Hawkins told me to get you some lunch.” He sat down in the chair opposite her as she opened the bag. “I got you a chicken sandwich and a side salad. I hope that’s okay. It’s what my wife always orders.”
“It’s fine,” Tamara replied. She liked Deputy Broadwick. The young man was ridiculously in love with his wife, Haley, and they were expecting their first child in a month. “Since you and Haley decided not to learn the sex of the baby, what color did you decorate the nursery?” she asked, eager for any kind of conversation after being alone for so long in the room.
“Yellow. Haley calls it buttercup, but to me it’s just plain yellow. How are you doing? Must be pretty boring just sitting in here day after day.”
She smiled at him ruefully. “Thank goodness there’s a television in here. Otherwise I think I might go stark raving mad.”
“I’ll bet you’re eager to leave this all behind you and get home.”
Tamara opened the wrapping on the chicken sandwich and nodded, because she knew it was the response he expected. But the truth of the matter was she had yet to feel any urgency, any homesickness at all. What did that say about her former life? Had she been unhappy? Lonely?
Deputy Broadwick sat with her while she ate her lunch and they talked about Amber Lake and the Fourth of July celebrations set to occur in the next five days. There was always a huge firework display put on by the town out by the dunes, but he wasn’t sure it would happen this year because of the dunes being closed.
Even though Tamara knew it wasn’t her fault, she felt half-responsible for robbing the town of its annual celebration fireworks. If she could only just remember. Damn her mind for attempting to keep her safe from whatever she’d experienced.
It wasn’t long before Deputy Broadwick had to return to duty, leaving her alone again with only her thoughts.
The fact that Seth hadn’t popped in at lunchtime to check in on her spoke volumes of how far he’d backed off from her. She told herself it was all for the best. It was possible by the time they left here today he’d have the name of a hypnotist who would be able to retrieve the memories she’d repressed.
It was possible within the next day or two she’d have her memories back and would be saying goodbye to the FBI agent who had saved her life...the same man who had stolen her heart.
She moved from the table to one of the two easy chairs in the room. There was also a cot shoved against one wall, she assumed for lawmen who found themselves working overtime and needing a quick catnap.
She eyed it longingly. Boredom made her sleepy and she was bored and disheartened and already grieving the loss of this small town and Seth.
The chair embraced her with comfort and she must have fallen asleep, for she was instantly trapped in a dream. Once again she was in the sand. She knew the sun was high in the sky for she could feel the heat of it on her exposed skin.
She knew she was in trouble, but she couldn’t help herself. Her muscles refused to obey her brain’s commands. She wasn’t just paralyzed from the neck down. Her eyes were closed and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t open them.
I should have never stopped at that rest area just outside town. I should have never lingered to chat with the man walking the cute little dog. Thoughts, regrets, shifted through her head along with the sound of the scrape of the shovel against the sand.
“An ostrich, that’s what you are,” a deep voice sounded from nearby. “You should have stopped him, but you didn’t do anything. You’re nothing but a damned ostrich and you belong in the sand.”
Her mind screamed her terror as she heard the scoop of the shovel and then the plop of the sand falling into place...on top of her...burying her.
No, no, please! Her brain screamed the words her mouth refused to form, and she tried desperately to open her eyes, at least to catch a glimpse of the man who was responsible for her death.
But her eyes wouldn’t open, her mouth couldn’t move, and there was no way to halt the imminence of her untimely death. As she heard the scoop of the shovel once again her mind raced down a rabbit hole, into total darkness.
“Tamara.”
The sound of her name brought her out of the darkness and up off the chair, fight-or-flight adrenaline spiking through her.
“Hey, it’s okay. You were asleep.”
She stared at Seth’s face and she wanted to weep because his handsome features instantly calmed her racing heart, the concern in his eyes immediately pulled her from the dark hole where she’d fallen. “I was dreaming,” she finally said. “Bad dreams about the dunes.”
His eyes darkened. “Then I’m glad I woke you up. It’s almost four. I decided to call it an early day. There’s nothing more I can do here right now.”
She nodded, still a bit dazed from her dream as she followed him down the hallway and out the front door of the building.
“I have the sheriff checking out Sam Clemmons a little more closely,” he said when they were in the truck and headed back to the house. “I told them to see if he or his parents owned any other property around the area. They’ve already checked out his place, but his family might own an old farmhouse or acreage just out of town.”
“Let’s hope they find some answers,” she replied. “I laid out some hamburger to defrost this morning so I’ll make a meat loaf for dinner.” She paused a moment, playing over her dream in her mind. “He called me an ostrich.”
“Who did?” Seth shot her a quick glance.
“The man who buried me. He called me an ostrich and said I belonged in the sand.” Her heartbeat accelerated as she consciously willed herself back to the nightmare he’d pulled her from.
She saw Seth’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Was it just part of a crazy dream or do you think it was a real memory?”
“Definitely a memory,” she replied. “I don’t know how I’m sure about that, but I am. And something else, I think he took me from the rest area outside town. I remember stopping there and I remember a man with a dog.”
She could feel the tension that suddenly wafted off Seth as he pulled into the driveway. “Is there a rest area outside town?” she asked, sudden doubts making her wonder if it was just a dream or a true memory.
“Five miles outside the city limits on the north side. It’s a little park area with bathrooms and a place to walk your dog.” He shut off the engine and his eyes glowed with excitement. “If we know he took you at the rest stop, then we have the initial crime scene and hopefully that’s where we’ll find some kind of evidence.”
He was out of the truck before he’d finished speaking. “I need to talk to Atkins. We need to get his crime scene deputies out there immediately.”
Tamara got out of the truck and hurriedly followed after him. Maybe this was truly the break they needed to solve the case. Perhaps the killer had been careless at the rest area and there would still be some evidence there.
Once they were in the house Seth immediately got on the phone and Tamara busied herself preparing the meat loaf and then popping it into the oven. She found a box of scalloped potatoes, followed the directions on the back of the box and stuck them into the oven, as well. All she needed to do was add a can of green beans and dinner was complete.
Seth had disappeared into his sister’s bedroom and she could hear that he was still on the phone, coordinating whatever search was about to take place.
He was gone almost an hour and by that time Tamara had pulled both the potatoes and the small meat loaf from the oven and had the green beans simmering on the stove.
“We’ve got everyone ready to head to the rest stop. Want to take a ride?” he asked.
She should have known that he’d want to be in the thick of things. Not only was it his job, but it was always who he was as an FBI agent, as a man. She glanced helplessly at the food and then back at him. “Just let me cover things up—we can microwave it later—and then I’ll be ready.”
She wasn’t ready. Minutes later as she got into the truck with Seth, she could feel the excitement wafting from him, but a sense of dread filled her as she thought about returning to the place from her dreams.
It had to be real. She couldn’t have dreamed about a rest stop she’d never been to, and the idea of going back to the first scene of the crime created a tight pressure in her chest. Whatever had happened there had occurred before she’d been found in the dunes.
Did the man with the dog have anything to do with what had happened to her? Or were they just meaningless elements in her dream?
When they got to the rest area would she suddenly remember the face of the man who had tried to kill her? Would she remember those horrifying moments when he’d laid her down and then begun to methodically cover her with sand?
Was she about to come face-to-face in her mind with the Sandman?