7
Sleep that night came in spurts. I kept hearing sounds outside, but when I’d look, nothing would be there. When my eyes finally did close, I’d see a brown sedan and would be awake again almost immediately.
And then there was Piranha.
I’m not one to dislike any animal, but the Chihuahua was working on my last nerve. He was locked safely away in the laundry room, where he couldn’t hurt one of the cats or break anything, but his bark carried up the stairs and pierced my ears like a needle.
It took some time, but eventually, the sounds and paranoia couldn’t keep exhaustion at bay. When I did finally drift off for good, the sky was already lightening. Two meager hours later, I was dragging myself out of bed, and into the shower.
By the time I was done with my morning routine, everyone was gone, and the house was silent, other than a handful of sneezes from Sheamus. Manny, true to his word, had taken Piranha with him to the vet. Ben must have gone with them because he wasn’t in his room. I hoped Manny would get a chance to ask him about his house hunting, because Ben had come home too late last night for me to do so.
“Amelia?” I called. It was punctuated with a yawn that forced me to lean against the wall lest I fall down. Once it passed, I knocked on her bedroom door.
There was no answer.
Like Ben, Amelia had come in late, just before I’d gone to bed. She’d gone straight to her room, barely paying the barking Chihuahua a glance on her way up the stairs. I’d tried to ask her about the investigation, but she’d merely shrugged, and closed her door.
I knocked again, raised my voice. “Amelia? You up?”
When she didn’t answer, I opened the door a crack.
Her bed was empty. Not only that, but it didn’t look as if she’d slept in it at all. The comforter was rumpled like Amelia had sat cross-legged on it as she was wont to do, but it wasn’t bunched at the foot of the bed as it usually was when she slept.
I closed her bedroom door with a frown. Amelia was never up this early. And since she never made her bed, I was positive she hadn’t actually slept in it.
But if that was the case, where had she gone? And when?
All those sounds that kept waking me up last night came back to mind. Could it have been Amelia sneaking out? Or did she fall asleep at her desk in her room, and I was worrying myself over nothing?
The brown sedan. If Amelia had left in the dead of night, and if my stalker was lurking around somewhere out there, could he have taken her?
Panic tried to flare, but I swallowed it back. Amelia was a grown woman. If someone were to try to abduct her, she’d have more than a few words to say about it. She also had a set of lungs on her that would wake the dead. I seriously doubted anyone could shove her into a car she didn’t want to get into without her blowing out their eardrums and waking the neighborhood.
I forced myself to go downstairs and eat breakfast and scan the news on my phone like it was any other day. Manny had already fed Wheels and Sheamus. Both cats were napping in the living room, next to one another, content as could be.
I was only mildly jealous.
I finished up my cereal, rinsed out the bowl, and was heading to my laptop to see what I could do about Piranha when there was a knock at the door.
I shot a quick glance at the clock. I rarely had visitors, and when I did, they usually called ahead of time. Unless it’s Courtney, I thought as I veered off toward the door. I opened it with a yawn that turned into a near scream when I saw who was standing on my stoop.
The man was a head taller than me, and was built like a runner. His limbs were long, and he stood with feet spread apart, as if he was ready to break into a jog at any moment. Dark eyes scanned me as I staggered back, away from the door, my shock overcoming my sense of decency.
In the driveway, a brown sedan sat next to my van.
“Excuse me for intruding,” the man said in a cultured, somewhat nervous voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You!” I pointed at him, then realized I was doing it, so I jammed my hand behind my back.
The man lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
I stood there, torn between asking him what he wanted and making a break for my phone. This was the man who’d followed me all day yesterday. This was the man I thought might be Joe Danvers’s killer.
And now, here he was, standing on my doorstep, apologizing.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” he said, “I would like to talk.” He held up his hands, showing me they were empty. His fingers were long and looked strong. “I know how all of this must look, but I promise I’m not here to hurt you.”
That’s what a killer would say! I stomped down on the stray thought and did my best to regain some semblance of composure. “Who are you? And why are you here?”
The man straightened, met my eye. Surprisingly, there was a hint of fear in his gaze, like he was afraid I might slam the door in his face or call the police on him.
And there was something else buried deep in his eyes, something I didn’t expect to see.
Immense sadness.
“My name is Erik Deavers,” he said. “Joseph Danvers was my father.”
My mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Now that he mentioned it, I could see the resemblance. They had the same wide nose, the same square jaw. If I’d spent more time with Joe, then perhaps I would have seen it before now.
After a few moments, I managed to close my mouth and come up with something to say, though looking back, I wish I would have said something far more intelligent.
“Joe didn’t have a son.”
Erik’s smile was sad. “He never knew about me.” He motioned toward the door. “Please, may I come in? I would like to explain. And, well, I have questions of my own.”
I nodded and Erik stepped through the doorway, and into my house. He closed the door, and then his entire face lit up. “What an adorable kitty.” He crouched down as Wheels rolled right up to him. “I’ve never had a cat of my own. Always too busy, you know?”
Despite how our paths first crossed, Erik earned a few points in my book for how he treated Wheels. “She seems to like you.”
He scratched her behind the ears, and ran a hand down her back, before he rose. “Well, I like her.” Some of the pleasure went out of his eyes. “Where should we sit?”
I led him into the living room, making sure not to turn my back on him completely, just in case his kindness was all an act. He took the couch, while I sat down in a chair across from him. He sat upright, with good posture, and folded his hands in his lap.
He has manners. I was sure there were plenty of killers with good manners, but it was hard to see him as such when he wasn’t threatening me. Could I have been wrong about him?
There was only one way to find out.
“Why were you following me?”
He looked embarrassed when he answered. “I truly am sorry about that. I wasn’t sure what to do, who to go to. I . . .” He shook his head as if dismissing whatever he’d been about to say. “It’s probably better if I explain from the beginning.”
I sat back and motioned for him to go on.
It took him a minute to gather his thoughts. I waited patiently, not wanting to rush him. Besides, it gave me a chance to study him, to search for deception in his expression or posture. He appeared to be in his thirties, and as I noted when I’d caught a glimpse of him yesterday, he looked well-groomed.
“As I said, Joseph Danvers was my father,” he said. “I didn’t know this until recently. Well, that’s not true. I knew his name, but didn’t know the man himself. We’d never met, but that wasn’t for a lack of trying.”
“He didn’t want to see you?”
Erik’s smile was heartbreakingly sad. “As I said, he didn’t know about me.”
It took a moment for what he said to click with other parts of Joe’s story. When it did, I couldn’t help but shout my next words.
“You’re Christine Danvers’s son!”
Erik nodded. “I didn’t know that was her real name until recently. I’ve learned a lot over the last few months, more than I ever expected. I knew Mom as Chris Deavers. She never married after Dad, but she’d changed her name. She didn’t tell me why, and honestly, I still don’t know. There’s so much she never got to tell me.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I held up a hand. “I really do think you need to start from the beginning.” Christine was alive! It appeared as if Chester had been right all along.
Erik crossed his legs and carefully smoothed out his pants where they bunched up. “I was born thirty years ago to a single mother. She’d told me my dad’s name, and never once led me to believe she had anything but love for him.”
“But she left him?” It came out as a question.
“It took her years to explain,” Erik said. “And even then, she never told me the whole story. She claimed it was for my own good, that it would be best if I never knew. But she did say that she was forced to run from her home, to leave her husband behind. She said he never knew about me.” He closed his eyes briefly, before going on. “She always hoped that one day she’d find him again and would be able to tell him everything she couldn’t when she left.”
It took me a moment to realize why she’d had such a hard time finding Joe. “He changed his name.”
“It took us years to find him. Mom had searched for him ever since I could remember. She never came here, to Grey Falls, but she did ask around. She was careful, like she was still afraid of something, but she tried the best she could.”
“Do you know what she was afraid of?” I asked, thinking that whatever it was, it very well might have been what got Joe killed.
“No,” Erik said. “She was careful to keep that part of her life separate. If it wasn’t for Dad, I think she would have moved on from her old life completely. She really did love him.”
I tried to imagine what it would be like to leave my home, my family, and not be able to come back. To leave Manny behind. Ben. Amelia. I honestly didn’t think I could do it.
“Whatever she’d run from must have been pretty bad,” I said, more to myself than Erik, but he responded anyway.
“She was terrified. When she heard Dad might be living in Grey Falls again, she tried to reach out to him, but we still didn’t have his new name, just rumors. By the time she learned who he’d become, it was already too late.”
My heart sank. “His death?”
Erik took a shuddering breath before answering. “Before that. Last week, in fact. Mom became gravely ill. It came on fast, and before either of us knew what was happening, she was gone.” He swallowed. I noted his hands were shaking where they were folded in his lap. “She desperately tried to contact him, but she was so sick . . .”
I thought back to the room I’d found Joe in. “He was trying to find her, too,” I said. “I don’t think he ever stopped.”
A tear rolled down Erik’s cheek. “That’s good to hear. Mom said she’d left to protect him, as well as to protect me. She prayed that we’d all one day become a family, but it never happened. It never will.”
I was forced to swallow back a lump that had grown in my own throat lest I blubber all over myself. “You followed me,” I said. “Why?”
Erik removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “That day, I was finally going to meet my dad. The day after Mom died, she received an anonymous letter with what was, apparently, Dad’s new name. As soon as I read it, I knew I had to come to Grey Falls. I drove by his driveway, I don’t know, twenty times. I was scared he’d reject me, scared he’d tell me he’d never wanted me. I guess I was afraid that he’d somehow blame me for Mom’s death.”
He laughed, though it was a frustrated sound.
“I should have gone right up to his door. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a coward, he’d still be alive.”
“You can’t think like that,” I said as gently as I could.
“I know, but it’s hard sometimes.” He tucked his handkerchief away. “I went back to my hotel room to calm my nerves, and after a good lecture to myself, I headed back to the house. When I got there, you were leaning against your van, and the cops were everywhere. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know who you were, only that you had some connection to my dad. I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I guess I thought you might have been his girlfriend.”
I bit back an immediate rejection of the idea. I barely knew Joe Danvers, hadn’t even known his real name, but there was no way Erik could know that. “I was taking him a cat,” I said, motioning toward where Sheamus was watching us with one sleepy eye.
Erik seemed to notice the Maine Coon for the first time. He practically melted into the couch. “That one?” he asked.
“Yeah. He was adopting him. I was due to deliver him to Joe that day.” I almost told him I’d found Joe’s body, but decided that probably wasn’t something he wanted to hear right then.
Erik smiled fondly at the cat before turning back to me. “Well, I saw you there, and thought you might know what happened. But with the police crawling all over the place, and me being a stranger, I was scared. I followed you, fully intent on asking you about Dad, about what happened, but when you got here, I chickened out.”
“And later?”
Erik looked down at his hands. “I have anxiety. I struggle with meeting people, talking to them. I sometimes struggle with people I know.” He glanced up at me. “And you were a stranger, one who knew my dad better than I did. I was afraid you’d reject me outright, or worse, had something to do with his death and would come after me next. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I thought you were after me,” I admitted.
“I only wanted to talk. And then when you led me on that chase, I thought perhaps you were trying to get a look at me so you could find me and finish me off.” He laughed. “I realized later that I was being stupid and forced myself to come to your house and introduce myself. Unfortunately, you weren’t home.”
“Yesterday,” I said. “Joanne . . .” My eyes widened. “Oh no!”
I jumped up and rushed to the front door. Erik followed me.
I yanked the door open and peered across the street. The curtains swished closed, a sure sign that Joanne was watching.
“What’s wrong?” Erik asked.
“My neighbor.” I closed my eyes, cursing myself for being so stupid. “I told her to call the police if she saw your car again.”
“Oh.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to have company soon.”
Sure enough, an unmarked car shot down the road, toward the house. It came to a stop, just behind Erik’s sedan, and before I could say another word, Detective Cavanaugh was marching toward us.
“I got a call. Is everything all right, Mrs. Denton?” While he spoke to me, he was staring hard at Erik.
“Everything’s fine. We’re just talking.” I don’t know why, but I raised my hands in surrender. Too much TV, I supposed.
Across the street, Joanne stepped outside. She looked excited about the prospects of a real life police drama unfolding on her street.
“Is this the man who was following you?” Cavanaugh looked Erik up and down. From his expression, I think he recognized him as Joe’s son or, at least, suspected something.
“He was,” I admitted. “He’s Joseph Danvers’s son. Like I said, we were talking. That’s all he wanted to do.”
“I think you’d best explain,” Cavanaugh said.
Both Erik and I took turns retelling the tale, with Erik handling most of the details dealing with Christine. Cavanaugh listened, growing more and more troubled as we went on. It was no wonder, really, considering he’d been running on the belief that Christine Danvers was murdered by Joe some thirty years past.
When we were done, Cavanaugh blew out his cheeks. “I think it might be best if you come down to the station to give an official statement.”
“Now, wait a minute!” I said, stepping between him and Erik. “He didn’t do anything.”
“It’s all right,” Erik said. “I understand.”
“He’s not in trouble, Mrs. Denton,” Cavanaugh said. “He might have information that could help us discover who killed Joe.” His voice was gentle, so I supposed he wasn’t just saying that to keep me calm.
But still, the man had gone through enough already. His dad, a man he’d never gotten a chance to meet, was dead. There was no fixing that. Dragging him to the police station would only compound the issue.
Erik took my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” he said. “I wish . . .” He shook his head. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m glad we got it sorted out. Wait one sec.” I hurried inside, jerked open my purse, and removed one of my rarely used business cards. I returned to hand it to Erik. “In case you need to call me. It has my cell number.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, and then turned to the detective. “I’m ready.”
Cavanaugh led Erik to his brown sedan. I supposed it was a good sign that he was letting him drive to the station under his own power. I watched as they both backed out of my driveway and headed downtown. The urge to follow them was great, but I held myself in check. There were better things I could do with my time.