Cold Target Part 43

She didn't want to damage him as she seemed to have hurt so many others in the recent past.

Meredith hoped that Rick Fuller's death was the end of the nightmare that had started only days earlier. It seemed liked eons. But she didn't fool herself. There might still be something else at play. She might still be a Jonah.

Her brain kept telling her that during the drive. How would Fuller have known about Mrs. Starnes? He might have tapped the phone but how would he have known the woman's importance to her? Or had he just wanted her to find a body?

Would someone really kill just to terrify?

When she reached Memphis, she headed toward Germantown, the community where her aunt and uncle once lived.

She had used the Internet to locate the exact neighborhood, and she'd found a hotel just blocks away. She would unpack, then start interviewing the neighbors and hope she could find one that had lived there thirty years earlier. In this mobile society, she doubted it. But she was quickly running out of options.

After locating the neighborhood and the hotel, she took a room under a different name. It was the kind of hotel that didn't ask for identification as long as you had cash.

Something to eat, then she would start canva.s.sing her great-aunt's old neighborhood.

'NEW ORLEANS'.

Gage hadn't been able to sleep after leaving Meredith and took the canoe down to his cabin. He'd grabbed a few hours sleep, then enjoyed a quiet dawn before heading back. Watching the rising sun change the colors of the sky had made him wish he'd brought Meredith. But then he'd needed this time to consider the last forty-eight hours.

He was not Meredith's keeper. She had made it clear she wanted no attachments. G.o.d knew, neither was he in a position to want them. He'd never been good at relations.h.i.+ps, and now he had his brother to consider.

She could still be in danger. Rick Fuller may have been used. On the other hand, he might have acted on his own when he attacked his wife and made his wild threats. Either way, Gage didn't believe for a minute that Fuller had been at the bottom of all the attacks.

He trusted Mack, though, to keep her safe.

On the way back, his thoughts kept turning to the photo of Mrs. Starnes, Marguerite Rawson and the young man. The dark hair. The defiant yet proud tilt of his head. A sense of familiarity nagged at him.

Still restless when he arrived home, he changed clothes and went downtown to his office. Suspended or not, he wanted to know if there was any more news about the death of Charles Rawson.

Wagner approached him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I feel naked, though, without my badge and gun."

"I'm told you'll be out for at least a week. You should just take it easy. Get some sleep. Enjoy life."

Gage gave him a disgusted look. "It's their idea. Not mine."

"We have a suspect in the homeless murder. An informant said another derelict was talking about it."

"Good. I'm more concerned about the floater. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide his ident.i.ty."

"We've gone through every missing person report for the last three months. Nothing fits."

"An out-of-towner?"

"Could be, but then why all the effort?"

"Do we have anything from the medical examiner on age or race?"

"No, but he sent a DNA sample to the feds. Maybe they have something." Wagner grinned. "Be glad to have you back next week. Cases are piling up. In the meantime, take it easy."

"I might do a little snooping on the Starnes case on my own."

"Keep me posted."

"I will. If you get anything on the floater, call me. Any time."

"Will do."

Gage hesitated at his desk, oddly reluctant to leave. He had relived the shooting over and over in his head in the last twenty-four hours. He couldn't get the images from his head. Nor could he dismiss the notion that something was very wrong.

He was about to leave when Dom called him on the cell phone.

"I saw your brother. I think I can find him something."

"He'll need it for the parole hearing."

"I know. Working on it. He wants to know when you'll be up there."

"I'll try next Sunday."

"He said the hearing is two weeks from today."

"Will you be there?"

"I plan to."

"Thanks." Gage hesitated, then asked, "Dom, did you know Marguerite Rawson?"

A pause on the other side of the receiver. "I've met her, yes. I think everyone involved in charities has."

"Did you know she's just died?"

Another silence. Then, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Gage noted a catch in his voice. "Can we have a drink together some time?"

"With you, always," Dom replied. "By the way, I was sorry to hear about the shooting. But I've heard bad things about Fuller."

"I would like to hear more about that."

"When we get together," Dom said. "Speaking of the Rawsons, I see that Meredith Rawson was involved in the shooting." It sounded more like a question than a statement. "How is she?"

How much did he have the right to say? "There's been some other incidents. I think they might trace back to her mother. Something that happened years ago." He waited for a reaction.

There was a long silence.

"Dom?"

"Call me when you're available," Dom said.

"Thanks again for Clint."

"I think he means it this time."

"G.o.d, I hope so."

Dom hung up.

Gage held the phone for a moment. Dom's reaction to his questions had been so muted it was difficult to read. But Dom had always been difficult to read.

He looked at the photo again. The young man had been a teenager. He'd been clean-shaven with dark hair that needed a cut. Dom's face was fuller and he had a noticeable scar on one side, a souvenir of prison. He looked, in fact, a little like a prizefighter whose nose had been broken once too often. However, he had an intensity and charisma that drew people to him, and he certainly had magic with alienated youngsters.

Gage would have liked to explore the matter more, but Meredith was more important at the moment. He called Meredith's cell phone. He was invited to leave a message.

Frustrated, he found Sarah's phone number and called.

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked.

He wished everyone would stop asking that question. He wasn't sure of the answer and he didn't like that feeling. Not at all. "Perfectly," he replied. "I'm looking for Ms. Rawson."

"She'll be gone for the next few days. She said she had to get away."

"Dammit! Did she say exactly where she was going?"

"If she didn't tell you ..."

"She might believe she's no longer in danger. I don't agree."

"Then you don't think Rick Fuller was involved in the other.. ."

"If he was, I don't think he was the only one. I knew Fuller. He wasn't that complicated a man."

Sarah hesitated.

"She told me about Memphis," he finally said. "Where in Memphis did she go?"

He waited patiently, letting her reach her own conclusions in her own time.

"I don't know. Just Memphis. She went to look for anyone who might have known her great-aunt."

"The address?"

Again she hesitated.

"Sarah, her life might depend on it."

Sarah gave it to him.

'BISBEE'.

The steaks were wonderful.

Holly hadn't realized men could be such good cooks. Doug had grilled the steaks outside on the grill along with corn on the cob and kabobs of fresh vegetables. He had prepared tamales as an appetizer.

Harry was enthralled. He helped at the grill, occasionally squirting water on the fire.

"It's nice having another male in the house," Doug said as they all sat down at the table.

She couldn't remember tasting a better steak. But it might have been the company, and the knowledge that he had been cooking for her.

Jenny showed Harry her collection of stuffed bears, then took him out to see a garden where Doug grew a number of vegetables, including the corn they were eating.

Doug poured a gla.s.s of wine for himself and for Holly and they watched as dusk approached and shadows shaded the land with different hues. She felt more relaxed than she had in years. Perhaps more than she ever had.

She had been popular as a child, mainly, she knew, because of her looks. In turn, she had envied the studious girls who made good grades and served as president of the Latin club. At the urging of her mother, she'd tried out for the drama club but she'd been abysmal. Even she understood that. Her one talent had been her hands. And a whimsy that no one recognized.

Now she relaxed. She had merely run a brush through her hair and added a dab of lipstick. Her only concession to a "date" was a pair of slacks and a checkered short-sleeve s.h.i.+rt rather than shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt.

Doug was relaxed as well. He stretched out in a pair of jeans and a blue cotton s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked masculine and confident and ... s.e.xy.

He took a sip of wine. She noticed he was very careful about how much he drank. He'd probably had a total of two small gla.s.ses. But then he was the driver.

"We had better go," he said reluctantly. "The movie's at eight."

It was going to be a late night for Harry, but this was a special treat. For both of them.

When they arrived at the movie, Doug spoke to nearly everyone. She knew several of the crowd and everyone eyed her curiously. Apparently, he was a prized bachelor.

The movie was excellent. Jenny sat on the outside with Harry next to her and Doug sat on Holly's other side. She was uncomfortably aware of his proximity, of his hand resting on the arm of the seat. She kept her hands clasped in her lap but at some time during the movie, his left hand inched over to take her right one.

Their fingers intertwined.

In a particularly scary part, Harry took her other hand.

She felt loved and secure and safe.

She wanted tonight to last forever.

'MEMPHIS'.

Not one of the immediate neighbors of her late great-aunt had lived in the community more than fifteen years. Certainly none for thirty years.

Several remembered her great-aunt, who had been killed in a brutal robbery several years ago. But none knew of a young girl who might have lived there briefly decades ago. Neither did they remember her great-aunt mentioning one.

All of them had been horrified by her death. Apparently, they had truly liked her.

'A brutal robbery.'