Reclaim My Life (5 page)

“The Sub?” Wil would sooner grab a stale vending machine sandwich than dine at the student union building surrounded by noisy teenagers. “What happened to meeting at the Lantern?”

“I’m not the one who forgot. In fact, I’m calling from their parking lot.”

Wil was a mere fifteen minutes late, but Sam wasn’t a patient guy. “Go back inside and grab us a table. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Wil disconnected. Except for the occasional dinners, he’d not spent time with his brother for a while, but he wasn’t above mixing business with pleasure. He might be able to catch Joyce Winston and question her about Friday night. Waitresses—especially experienced ones like Joyce—had their fingers on the pulse of a restaurant better than anyone.

He parked beside Sam’s Saturn, left his phone plugged in to charge, then headed inside. Sam already had a tall glass of iced tea waiting for him, for which Wil was grateful. He slid into the booth across from his brother. Not even two years apart in age, Sam and Wil could’ve passed for twins, except for their hair color. Sam had his dad’s red hair, whereas Wil had his mother’s fairer coloring. Their younger sister favored their mother but had the Drake flaming-red hair.

“Thanks for waiting. It’s been one helluva day.” The sugary tea was too sweet for Wil’s taste, but the icy liquid quenched his parched throat.

“Did you know the woman who was killed?”

“I’d met her. She was nice. Sophie liked her.”

Sam chuckled. “That adorable mutt loves everybody, doesn’t she?”

“She must. She puts up with me.” He finished off the iced tea and sighed. “Also, she’s good for Dad. He seems to enjoy her company when I’m working.”

“How is Father?”

“Good, considering.” Wil resisted suggesting that Sam stop by and see for himself. After all, Sam had been there for their father when Wil hadn’t. “Who’s our waitress tonight?”

“Louisa. The one you call Weezie. Here she comes with the pitcher of tea.”

“You’re psychic, darlin’,” Wil said, holding up his empty tumbler for a refill.

“No, Sheriff, just a terrific waitress.” Louisa Montoya’s black eyes flashed with merriment. She and her husband, Carl, who ran a fuel station and wrecker service on Coronado Street, were expecting a baby and told everyone they met about it.

“How many more months till the blessed event?” Wil already knew the answer but couldn’t resist the inevitable beaming response.

“Three. Carl’s already buying him toys for Christmas.” Smiling, she smoothed her denim apron over her pregnant belly. “You guys need a few minutes to decide?”

Sam answered, “I’m ready. Wilson?”

“I don’t know why I even look at the menu, Weezie. Just bring me an order of your catfish fillets.” One more thing to remind him of Elizabeth. She shared his appreciation for good catfish.

After Sam ordered, Louisa carried the pitcher of iced tea to the table behind theirs, and Sam frowned. “She still doesn’t write down any of her orders. I’m astonished she gets them right.”

“Like she says, she’s a terrific waitress. She has a great memory.” But she hadn’t been the one to wait on the foursome last Friday night. “I’d hoped to talk to Joyce Winston, but I don’t see her.”

“She has the night off,” Weezie yelled from the next table.

Wil chuckled. “Weezie also has excellent hearing.”

Sam lowered his voice. “Does Joyce have something to do with your case?”

“I don’t know yet, but she waited on the victim Friday night. It may have been her last meal.” Wil shrugged, already weary of working the homicide. “Anyway, you know about my day. How was the first day of classes at the college, Dean Drake?”

“Slow.” Sam took a long sip of his iced tea. “It’s a small college, not the University of Florida. I’m sure you’d be bored with what goes on there.”

The hint of contempt in Sam’s tone didn’t escape Wil’s notice. He’d been talking down to Wil for so long, it was probably too difficult to break the habit if he wanted to. Sam, the scholarly one in the Drake family, had always put down Wil’s choice of career. So had their father, not that it mattered anymore. Since the stroke, Dad seemed glad to have Wil around. “No, I don’t think what you do is boring.”

Sam took another drink of iced tea before saying more. “We had a few scheduling problems, but not nearly as many as we did before updating our computer systems. The new IT administrator I hired last year is a genius.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ian Davis.”

“Right. His wife is Sunny Davis.”

“Yes, she took over the bookstore, for which I’m grateful. The downside of a small college is the pay is low and the turnover high.”

“How’s she working out?”

“Great, not that I was in a position to be selective. Victoria left me in a bind by taking that job in Tampa.”

“Maybe it was revenge. After all, you did dump her.”

Sam made a face. “Please! Let’s not revisit my love life. So why the questions about Ian and Sunny Davis?”

Wil trusted his brother but not eavesdropping patrons of the Hurricane Lantern. “No reason. I just like to know the folks in my county.”

“How strange to hear you refer to Foster County as yours.”

“Yeah, I left it for awhile. But it’s home, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, it is. If only our little sister would figure that out…”

“Taylor has the wanderlust.” Wanderlust hadn’t been Wil’s problem, but he was tired of trying to explain his life’s choices. “Have you heard from her lately?”

“I get e-mails from her, but nothing personal. Usually insipid jokes I’ve seen a dozen times, or some sentimental slop. She sends them en masse, so you probably get them, too.”

“I get forwards, but as you say, nothing with any news about her or where she is.” Although Wil had her cell phone number, he couldn’t remember using it since their father’s stroke. “Maybe I’ll see if she’ll come home for Thanksgiving. It’d be good for Dad to have all of us at the house.”

Sam guffawed. “Why? Are
you
cooking?”

The crazy idea of inviting Elizabeth Stevens, the woman who’d lost all her family in a tragic fire, popped into his mind. Holidays must be lonely for her. “Maybe I will.”

Elizabeth shoved the carton of Italian ice into Sunny’s cramped freezer. “Miller’s IGA didn’t have spumoni, but this is Italian.”

Ian turned from the steaming pot on the range. “It was nice of you to bring dessert.”

She backed out of the apartment’s cramped kitchen. “It’s the least I could do if you’re cooking me dinner.”

“It seems wrong, doesn’t it?” Ian said.

“Your cooking dinner?”

“The three of us having a fun night of spaghetti when Cathleen Hodges has died. I feel guilty—”

“I know what you mean, Ian. She’s been on my mind all day.”

Sunny reached past Elizabeth to grab the bottle of Chianti on the counter. “Mine, too, but going without dinner won’t bring her back.”

“We’ll toast Cathleen’s memory at dinner.” Elizabeth followed Sunny to the dining table.

Like most apartments of its vintage, Sunny and Ian’s had a narrow galley kitchen with an L-shaped living and dining area. Sliding glass doors off the dining area led to a claustrophobic nightmare of a balcony. One of the two bedrooms was crowded with computer equipment and various electronics—Sunny referred to it as Ian’s inner sanctum. Elizabeth couldn’t deal with such chaos, but Sunny didn’t seem to mind. She managed to keep the rest of the apartment tidy and clean, evidently banishing Ian to the one room.

Sunny’s blond hair was pulled into a short ponytail, with wayward strands feathering her face. She placed wineglasses beside each plate. The dishes resembled Elizabeth’s own, plain white Corelle, nothing fancy but very serviceable. She’d immediately been drawn to Sunny’s no-nonsense efficiency.

I
like efficiency in a woman
.

Wilson Drake’s words from this morning tumbled into her mind. Thoughts of the guy intruded entirely too often to suit her. The last thing she needed was involvement with a man, especially a lawman. Intimacy carried too high a price. How could she build a relationship on a lie? Her body seemed to ignore her warnings, however, and warmed at fantasies involving the handsome sheriff.

Except for toasting Cathleen, Elizabeth intended to drop the subject of their friend’s murder. Not only was it distressing dinner conversation, but it especially disturbed Elizabeth. She couldn’t shake the irrational notion that she had brought death to Drake Springs.

Sunny handed her the Chianti and a corkscrew. “Are you any good with these things? I’m pitiful.”

“Sure.” She couldn’t admit as much, but she’d opened more bottles of wine than she could remember for parties when she’d been in vet school. Elizabeth Stevens attended Georgia, not Auburn, though. It wouldn’t do to dwell on secret memories, so she pushed aside the thoughts as forcefully as she punctured the cork in the Chianti bottle.

“Ian’s no better at opening wine than I am. If it’s not computer coded, forget it.”

She handed Sunny the opened bottle. “Except for cooking.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sunny whispered. “I found two empty Prego jars in the trash.”

She laid the cork and corkscrew on the table. “You know, as long as I don’t have to cook it, it’ll be fabulous.”

“Maybe you don’t like to cook, but you can. You served us a great meatloaf last Sunday.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I can, on rare occasions, make a decent meal.”

“By the way, are we still on for Saturday?” Sunny poured the wine into goblets that matched the ones Elizabeth had purchased at the Family Dollar Store, the closest thing to a department store in Drake Springs.

“The shopping trip to Valdosta?”

“Yes, just the two of us. I’ll pick you up at the diner. We can do breakfast before we leave.”

“I’m willing to drive—”

“That pickup truck? No offense, but I’d rather we take my car.” She placed the bottle of wine on the pass-through beside the doorway to the kitchen. “Now, let me get the garlic bread.”

“Coming through!” Ian sidled past Sunny in the doorway, hoisting a large platter of spaghetti topped with sauce and shredded Parmesan. He placed it in the center of the dining table. “Ladies, dinner is served.”

Elizabeth forgave him the jarred sauce when she saw the fresh grated Parmesan. “Looks amazing, Ian. I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Yeah, I apologize for being late. I’m a slow cook.”

Sunny wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him to her for a noisy kiss. “But a sexy one.”

Elizabeth smiled at the newlyweds. If ever there was a mismatched couple, it was the Davises. Sunny was petite and full of energy, with breathtaking beauty that needed no makeup. The quintessential blue-eyed blonde, she wore a lot of makeup, but it wasn’t necessary.

Ian, on the other hand, was stout with the beginnings of a pot belly, probably from too many hours sitting behind a computer. His thick glasses hid large brown eyes and rested on a too-wide nose. His receding hairline threatened to take over his entire head. Words like
nerd, geek
, and
dweeb
had come to mind when she’d first met him.

According to Sunny, they’d married after a brief, wild courtship and were approaching their first anniversary. Although they were opposites in appearance, Ian was good-natured, fun, and friendly, and openly worshipped his wife. Sunny seemed to adore him. What else mattered? It was more than Elizabeth could expect to have, at least anytime soon.

When they were seated, Elizabeth raised her goblet of wine. “To Cathleen. We’ll miss you, friend.”

“To Cathleen.” Ian clinked his glass against hers.

Sunny touched glasses with hers. “Rest in peace, Cat.”

After a stretch of silence in which the three slurped spaghetti and sipped Chianti, Ian turned to his wife. “You’re going shopping Saturday? I thought you said you were visiting your mom this weekend.”

Sunny grimaced. “Oh, crap, that’s right. Can we go tomorrow after your last class? We can do dinner in Valdosta.”

Ian nodded. “I need to spend time in the data center, so you two go on.”

“Doesn’t your mother live in Boston?”

Sunny nodded, waiting until she swallowed to answer. “Yes. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

Elizabeth helped herself to a slice of buttery garlic bread. She couldn’t help but wonder how Ian and Sunny could afford the expensive airfare, but perhaps Sunny’s mother paid for the tickets. Anyway, it was none of Elizabeth’s concern. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?” she asked.

“No, I’ll drive. I can leave my car at the long-term lot.”

No surprise there. Sunny wouldn’t want to ride in Elizabeth’s small pickup all the way to Jacksonville when she could drive her luxury car. “Well, I know you’ll enjoy visiting your mother.”

“I’ll miss you, honey,” Ian said.

“I know, but it’s just for a couple days.” Sunny leaned back and grabbed the bottle of Chianti from the pass-through. “Refills, anyone?”

Ian held up his empty glass. “What time is the sheriff supposed to get here?”

Sheriff? Elizabeth groaned. “Not another setup!”

Sunny glared. “After the way you treated the last man we introduced you to? Not in this lifetime, babe. We learned our lesson.”