Chapter 20

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



Vince lived in a pricy beach front property that rested on a cliff that overlooked the ocean. He lived a life of fast cars, fast women ... and all of the things in between. A high school boys fantasy, Anna thought, and grimaced as she recognized the old bitterness.

The house blended into the earth and was formed into simple, clean lines; from the framing of the house, to the long, lean windows that lined up like piano keys across the front. His grounds were kept modest, better to appreciate the view beyond.

The only color came from the vibrant red of Vince's vintage Camero. It echoed in a mirror image reflected across the columns of windows. Red, hot, loud—and seemingly out of place in the sedate yard. He had his other cars for work, for prestige. This one was his baby, all flash and heat. While he had other people to take care of the lawns and the cleaning, he let no one under the hood of his car. He tooled it with the same care he took with him into the operating room, knew every detail, every part inside and out.

Anna parked behind Vince's car and looked over at Derek. He seemed harder now, with an edge to him. Like he'd been once before, when they'd dealt with Maureen Child's murder last summer.

He'd come from Willis county, she remembered ... had been raised on those rough streets. He knew how to be a hard cop.

It was Basin Springs that had softened him. And maybe what he had found here.

But he still had his instinct. Even though he was an administrator of justice now, his instinct was fresh. She would have taken him with her as her partner any day.

"Let's go," she said and got out of the car, aware that she'd put her own face on, and walked to the front door with Derek at her side.

She pressed the doorbell beside the oversized heavy oak doors, then stepped back, stoic in her stance. She could hear the ocean, the steady roll of the waves. The air was fresh and smelled of the sea. It foiled with the turmoil that vibrated inside of her. Her eyes were dark and set, her lips a thin, firm line.

Vince took his time, she thought, not at all surprised. When the door finally opened she forced the derision from her smile and opted for a serious tone.

"Anna--" he looked first at Anna, then toward Derek, "what do I owe this surprise?"

"We're here in an official capacity, Vince," she said, needlessly flashing her badge. "This is Derek Johnson from the Beach station. We have a couple of questions."

"Now? It's Christmas Eve," he glanced briefly over his shoulder. "And I've got company."

"It won't take long."

He didn't seem willing to agree, but finally shrugged and stepped back, leaving the door open for them.

"He doesn't seem happy to see us," Derek murmured.

Anna nodded as she stepped inside and shut the door. "Official or not, Vince doesn't usually look happy to see me. I'm not his type."

"And what type would that be?"

Anna flashed Derek a look as she headed toward the front room, but refrained from commenting.

Vince walked down the hall passed the living room, calling out for someone named Lily. The tall, leggy brunette stepped out and wrapped her arms around him. That—she wanted to tell Derek—was more Vince's type. Clingy. Controllable. He leaned close and whispered a few words to her, then she sauntered off, casting a scornful glance back toward Anna.

She looked around. His home was much like Lance's ... rich woods, streamlined, modern paintings. The leather sofas were designed for comfort, the large, flat screen TV an homage to everything that is male.

"So," Vince said as he led them into the living room and dropped gracefully into the deep cushions of his sofa. He was suddenly the playboy, carefree and careless.

"What can I do for you?"

"Loraine Thompson," Anna said without preamble. She pulled out a notebook, more for show, and sat down with Derek across from him.

Vince looked from Derek to Anna, "And?"

"You're her physician."

"Yes, I am," the easy going look vanished and he was suddenly doctor, suddenly serious. He stood, paced over to the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of water from the small fridge. "There is something called patient confidentiality. As a lieutenant for our fine police force, you should have heard of it."

"You're not going to make me get a court order?"

"I am," Vince said, he unscrewed the cap from the bottle and stood a long, generous swallow. "It's the law. It's a law that's placed there to protect the patient. Whether she's guilty or not, I won't talk about it."

"Guilty of what?"

"Whatever you were going to ask about her."

"What if I was going to ask about you?" Anna asked. If she'd expected a reaction, she was firmly disappointed. He simply lifted an eyebrow. "Someone came upon some meds awhile back. Those meds somehow ended up in the wrong hands."

"This is about Amy? That was months ago."

"The case is still open."

"Are you accusing me? Is that what this is about?" Vince fumed and slapped the water bottle down on the bar. "Amy's Lance's daughter, Anna. I wouldn't harm her."

"But you choose to forget it at times."

"You're making this personal. Maybe I should bring in my lawyer and slap a little back."

"Maybe." She switched gears. She could slap back at another time. Right now she needed some answers. "Back to Loraine. Are you aware, as her doctor, or for any other reason, that she's been taking a faulty prescription?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"As her doctor you weren't alerted?"

"Again, patient—"

"I know. Your warrant." She leaned forward, narrowed her eyes. "Come on Vince. This is Amy we're talking about. It will be easier even the day after Christmas to get the warrant through if you could give me some indication that there's something in your testimony."

Vince only stared at her, his jaw set.

She sighed and sat up straight, taking a moment to focus. "When was the last time you saw Loraine Thompson?"

"I don't know. I would have to look it up. Not recently."

"A month, two months?"

"I don't know. More than that, I would suppose. I'll have to look. I'll have my office manager call you—"

"I know. After Christmas."

"It is the holidays. We're closed today. You're being a scrooge Anna."

She refused to be baited again. "Is there a reason you didn't come to us before? She approached Amy, not a month ago. Surely Lance told you."

"Loraine Thompson's my patient. I'm not her father, nor Amy's father. And no—I didn't know. Some things are your job. You get me that warrant I will talk to you," he said, and leaned close. "I will talk—if you ask the right questions. Maybe we can figure it out together."

Anna nodded. "Fine then. We'll get your warrant."

"Good, anything else?"

"Why? Why Loraine ... after all she did?"

"Your the one that always preaches forgiveness."

"Still."

Vince shrugged. "One could never say no to Mallory."

Anna looked at Derek. "I guess not."



Amy sat on the floor beside Mitch. The firelight flickered over them both, and was finally beginning to warm her skin. There had been a few logs by the fireplace and a small, old stash out by the back door. After settling Mitch and lighting the fire, she'd gone back out to her truck, brought in her emergency kit and the remaining towels. The snow she'd packed around his leg was quickly melting.

She cast a quick look up at the stone chimney. She wasn't quite sure the chimney was safe. She didn't have that much experience with fire places, but she knew that plenty of house fires started because of them. The cabin itself gave her little confidence. The walls were cracked, the roof slightly slanted. There were several broken windows, so the cold air blew freely inside.

And when she'd opened the door, something ... several somethings had scattered. She could handle a broken leg, but she wasn't sure she could handle rodents.

It wouldn't, Amy thought, bring Chloe much comfort.

She kept her eyes peeled, well aware that those ... somethings ... were not far away.

Mitch stirred. Amy reached over and placed a hand to his brow. "Shh," she murmured, and prayed he would stay asleep. It was the only thing that would bring him comfort.

"Chloe."

"She's fine," Amy told him and gently ran a hand down his arm as he settled back into sleep. She'd covered him with her coat and wished for something more to warm him.

She looked to the window where snow was falling freely now. She didn't tell him about it. She didn't tell him that Chloe was out finding her way in a storm.

When Chloe got to someone, how long would it take for emergency crews to get here? How bad were the roads? How much time had passed? It felt like days, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of hours.

On Christmas Eve. How long would it take them to get help on Christmas Eve?

The sound of metal crunch echoed in her head. She dropped her head into her hands, drew in a deep breath. Then another. She couldn't think of it. She wouldn't.

She wanted the beach ... the sand. She wanted to escape, to be in the waves, paddling the board further and further away from the beach, to now stop ... until. Just to not stop.

What had she been thinking, asking Derek to marry her? Starting a relationship with him when she was just starting to ... do what? Her probation would be over in two weeks. She would be able to leave, go anywhere ... be anything. She could get out of the Springs, be who she was meant to be.

And there would be no one to stop her.

She heard the sound again, cars crashing together, people screaming. Was it from today, or long ago? Who was screaming in her mind? She felt her stomach lurch.

She drew in a deep breath, tried to push the memories back. She'd had plans, hadn't she? To go to Hawaii, to finally make it back to Hawaii, and surf those waters. She had a few pals, a few connections who lived on Kauai. She could pressure her dad, get him to buy her a little shack by the ocean. She could ...

She could go to New York, she thought, slowly rocking back and forth. She could get a flat there, start over, get lost in the city.

She'd had plans before ... she'd been so set of staying at the beach, taking over Ham's job when the time came ... but before, before she'd had that dream, there had been others.

Long before Derek ... Derek.

What had she done?

"Amy?"

She turned, found Mitch watching her. His eyes revealed his pain, but were clear. Too clear.

"You look pale."

Did she? She pressed her hands to her face, found her palms clammy, her skin cool. She drew in a deep breath, sought for something calm.

And said a prayer.

Finally, she felt her spirit calm ... marginally.

"I'm okay."

"Bad morning," his eyes were seeking. She knew what he saw. He'd seen it before, but it had been so long since she'd felt like this ... like she was going over the edge.

"Yeah, well," she found a smile, "anyone would start to loose their mind in here. We're not alone. Rodents—"

A smile slashed across his face and she knew he was remembering the time they'd had a family of mice living in the walls of the station house. She hadn't been the only one unsettled.

"What time is it?"

She put a hand to her stomach as it grumbled. "Around lunch time. I told Andrea to eat without us if we didn't make it back."

"So she wouldn't ... be looking for us."

"No. What about your people at the station?"

"They know about my jeep ... I don't have my radio with me. If something happens they'll have to come looking for me."

Amy looked out the window and watched the snow fall. How much happened in Upper Springs that would send people out in a snow storm to find their chief of police?

On Christmas Eve ... when his girlfriend was in town.

"Convenient that my jeep was out of commission," Mitch said after awhile. "I'd like to get a look under your truck."

"You'll have to wait until after the doctor sees you," she reminded him dryly.

"Where's my gun?"

"Mitch—"

"Where is it?"

She lifted it from where she'd set it by her side. "I haven't forgotten."



Andrea glanced at her watch as she entered the lodge's lobby. The fire places were blazing, the Christmas trees sparkling. In the corner, a man dressed in a brightly colored sweater played Christmas music on the stand-up piano. He was a local boy, Andrea remembered, who came in each Christmas to play for Uncle Pete.

She'd watched him years before, fascinated by those strong agile hands, as she sat here in the lobby with her father. She'd just wanted to drift. Life had seemed so complicated then.

Andrea dropped her shopping bag down on an end table and tugged out her cell phone and tried Amy. When it came up unavailable, she punched in the speed dial for Mitch's cell. She lifted a hand as Eric came through the lobby doors, flushed from his morning runs on the slopes and sprinkled with snow.

He pulled off his gloves as he walked over to her, then his cap and ran a hand through his auburn hair.

Even mused, she found him irresistible.

It seemed life was complicated once more ... or was it? What was she looking for, hoping for, this time around?

She got Mitch's voicemail almost immediately. As she listened, she watched Eric, who dropped down on the plush sofa, stretched his long legs out, and watched her back.

The beep, that signaled the end of the greeting, surprised her. She looked away and fumbled with the message. "Mitch, it's ... Andrea--I guess you got tied up. We're going to head into the dinning room to eat. We'll meet you inside if you guys make it."

Andrea closed her phone and drew in a deep breath before she turned back to face Eric. He was still sitting there, waiting. Where Amy or Chloe would have dug into her bag while waiting for her to get off the phone, he simply lifted it up by and finger and handed it over.

"How was the skiing?"

"Amazing," he slid an arm around her and walked with her into the dining room. "This seems to be the secret of California. I keep my ear to the ground on skiing and had never heard of it before."

"Well, you wouldn't get it from Uncle Pete—unless he knows you. He likes to keep it quiet. His place quiet."

"You wouldn't tell by the people he keeps around."

Andrea's smile was quick. The pricy rooms were usually packed with return visitors and locals from the lower springs, but he had other, simple rooms packed with bunk beds. "That's Uncle Pete. He has his own mission ... he won a few surfing awards. Can still handle a skateboard. The Extreme Sports crowd—they love him."

"I wouldn't have thought."

"You have to get around him when they're here ... or so Amy says. It's when he's in his element."

They fell into their familiar pattern, their familiar ease, there own element. He had always been easy to be with in Boston. It had been easy to be herself.



Or be the person she thought she wanted to be.

As they sat down at the table, Eric pointed toward the garland decorated skis across the room. "I've been trying to get a handle on seeing your mom up here at Christmas. After spending Thanksgiving with her, I'm surprised she traded in the home decorating to come up to a place like this for Christmas."

Andrea laughed. "You just don't understand the decorative appeal of antique ski equipment."

"I don't remember seeing it at your parents' house."

"No," Andrea agreed. "It wasn't an ordinary Christmas that we spent up here. It was the first Christmas after Jenny died. It was meant to be different. We wanted something different."

It had seemed so reassuring compared to the grief they experienced at home. Amy's uncle had offered the lodging humbly, as a simple gift for all he thought they'd done for his niece, and her parents had accepted because somehow it hadn't seemed like they'd done enough.

They'd missed Jenny and they'd remembered her, as a family, sitting in the lobby with the piano player tooling around with Christmas carols. Andrea had curled into her father's side, soaking in his warmth. They hadn't gone their separate ways that Christmas even though they were at a ski resort. She hadn't escaped with her mother into a spa, her father and brother hadn't spent all of their time on the slopes.

Jenny would have been somewhere in between. They'd known it, and they'd remembered her.

After ordering their lunch, she told Eric of that first Christmas, of Brian teaching her to ski, of walking up from the family cabin with her parents. Of her sister, and what she'd missed most. It had been quiet, peaceful, and painful ... but so much different then what they'd left behind in Basin Springs.

"I remember the worst part for me. I was in town and there was this group protesting outside city hall. It wasn't that many, maybe not more than three ... but they carried these posters ... one with Jenny's image, the other with Amy's. I was scared to death Amy would see it ... scared to death my mom and dad would see it. They had, of course, but I didn't want them to."

She looked up as Eric took her hands in his own. He pulled hers apart, rubbed his thumbs over her palms. Until that moment she hadn't realized she'd grown agitated.

"I guess it still bothers me," she said ruefully. "Half the town grew up surfing or skating, but there were a few groups who began to protest. By Christmas it was ... terrible. The town was falling into ruin, they said. The beach scene was a Sodom and Gomorrah ... the whole thing was blown out of proportion. Amy and Jenny were at the center—neither of them deserved the roll of saint or sinner."

She thought about how much Amy had grown, opened up, in the last year. It had take a long time, Andrea thought, and wondered how much it had to do with Derek.

"I suppose some people really wanted to discuss some legitimate problems," Andrea continued after their food was set before them, "there is no organized teen center in town, nothing but the beach. Once the court cases, the suits, brought against Amy and her father were dismissed, the voices died down ..."

"Once they didn't have Amy to generate the publicity they needed."

"They didn't care about her. That's what bothered me the most. She was one of the ones that needed the help, that needed an organized center. She had it, with Ham, but without Ham ... she would have been back where she started, or worse. She was still in high school. Things were really bad with her father ... he's leveled now, but there was a time when ..."

Resting her elbows on the table, Andrea folded her hands together and pressed her knuckles against her lips. There had been a time when she'd had to tell her mother and father Amy's secrets, but she wouldn't do it now.

"It was a difficult time for all of us. Amy's Uncle Pete called. I think he just called to see if my dad, acting as her lawyer, could work it out for Amy to come live with him. We ended up staying for a week in the family cabin. It was the best thing that could have happened to us, as a family."

She looked around, found herself gazing out the picturesque window that circled the lodge. She watched the snow fall, peaceful and light. She could remember that Christmas, more vividly then any other. "It's a special place."

Eric smiled and reached across the table to take her hand. "It is."

"I think you're biased."

"I'm pretty choosy when I'm picking a place to ski," he said, and winked. "You'd have to be there."

"Just keep in mind, I don't ski."

"You've kept yourself occupied, I think," he reminded her, gesturing toward the bag.

She smiled and curled her fingers around his. "Speaking of ... did you know Amy and Derek have been seeing each other?"

"As in seriously dating?" he shrugged. "I thought they might me moving toward it."

Andrea's eyes widened in disbelief. "You did know something!"

"Only what I suspected."

"And you didn't say anything?"

He rolled his eyes. "I only saw the same things you did. Why didn't you draw the same conclusions? I thought you had."

"I did ... I just wasn't sure until last night," she thought back over the conversation. "They were talking, all serious—which is what surprised me... she was talking about what she wanted to do with her life. I couldn't imagine. I've never been able to get her to sit still long enough to have that conversation."

Eric laughed. "Then it must be serious."

Andrea ignored him, suddenly somber. He reached over, lifted her chin with his finger. "What is it?

"I don't know ... I've been thinking today about all this. About that first Christmas here. I don't guess it's something I can avoid ... and in the middle of it all, I realized that Amy's on the verge of something I ... something I've prayed for, hoped for. She has so much she can give to people, so much life she can share. I was walking around today, thinking about it, and I realized that I've spent half my life judging her by what she hasn't done. Judging some people in town for what they haven't done."

"My family didn't do anything either. We could have done something in Jenny's memory. We talked about it ... I remember that we talked about it. Wished for it."

"Time passed—you wanted to move on," Eric supplied, taking her hands back in his. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Maybe not, and maybe it wasn't our place or our time. I don't know. Amy and her friends weren't the only ones out there on Back Bend road that night. They weren't the only ones who needed a bit of direction." She frowned a little. "I wasn't out there, but it took finding Amy, becoming a lifeguard, to see past my problems."

"So you took over the junior lifeguards."

"Maybe—because Amy wouldn't. And maybe because it was something I could do, something I could do for myself."

"You did do something," he turned his hand so that his knuckle skimmed her cheek. "You weren't complacent. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"You sound like me talking to Amy."

"Maybe you should start listening to yourself."

"Maybe." She released his hand and turned her wrist, checking the time, then looked to the window and watched the snow fall. "I wonder what's taking them so long? Amy said they were running down to Chloe's father's old place—and that was hours ago."



He was angry, Derek thought, as Anna drove them back to the marina. Vince and Lance, friends since high school. On the baseball team, star players. It's no wonder they'd been paired together, he thought.

Still, what had Lance done for Amy? Why did he put Vince before his daughter, time and time again?

And this friend ... had taken on Loraine Thomson's case. And continued it, despite Mallory Carpenter's death.

Who was Mallory Carpenter?

Anna pulled up at the marina and looked ruefully over at Derek. "Sorry for taking you away from the ocean for that. I don't know what I was thinking."

He pushed back the anger, or tried to. "Circumstantial evidence is still evidence."

"But it's so like Mallory," she shook her head and stared out over the boats that were parked at the dock. Derek followed her line of vision. A line of garland decorated with red bows was wrapped around the railing of the ship.

"I wanted him to be guilty. I made it personal."

He looked back over at her, found her gaze distant. "It's another piece to the puzzle."

"Not just the case."

"He's part of Amy's life. Has been part of Amy's life. All along?"

"I don't know. I wasn't in the inner circle once Lance and Mallory were married ... but I had thought their friendship revived after her death. Two single men, both successful ... both, in many ways, hurting. Vince didn't have an easy life ... I don't know if he would have thought the ... things that happened between Lance and Amy weren't normal. They'd happened to him. Ten fold. His father was an alcoholic. His mother was killed ... I guess we were juniors in high school. Lance saw him through it."

"How did she die? Vince's mother?"

"Car crash. Drunk driving. I don't remember exactly."

Derek pushed back on the rage, felt it back off, if not dissipate. He remembered seeing Vince the night Amy was in the hospital. He'd stopped in, engaged Amy in a little idle chatter and moved on.

He rubbed his face with both hands.

"He puts a great deal of effort into his practice. I've often thought that ... he finds his peace there, helping people that couldn't, wouldn't help his mom."

"He just can't handle the personal stuff."

"I'm sure it's textbook."

"Probably," Derek studied the Christmas decorations again. The rage was still there. It wasn't, he thought, pointed at Vince ... he was just angry.

He wanted Amy to be free and clear ...

To do what? To choose him? To choose a career?

Could he ask her to choose?

Anna's phone buzzed, reminding Derek that he was sitting in Anna's car. Brooding. Was it anything else but brooding? He didn't, couldn't, have answers to his questions. Not yet.

He reached for the door handle, but Anna put a hand on his arm. He looked back at her, saw the startled look in her eyes, tuned in on the conversation.

""What happened?" Anna asked, her eyes locked on Derek's, her hand curled into his arm. "Is that all he said?"

Whatever the answer was, Anna frowned over it. Something was wrong, he thought. The palm of her hand was suddenly clammy.

"It's all right, Lance. He's right here—" she looked over at Derek. "We're on our way."

"What is it?" Derek asked as she flipped her phone closed.

"Lance got a call from his brother. There was an accident on the mountain," Anna shifted her hand, found his. "Amy's fine ... but Mitch, was air-vaced to the hospital down here. Lance knows enough to know that she's seeing someone at least. He wanted you to come."

The laugh escaped her and she shook her head, pushing her hair away from her face. "He thought I could get in touch with you. He doesn't seem to think she's handling it well."

"There's more," Derek noted.

"The brakes on Amy's truck failed," she shifted her gear shift into drive and pressed her foot to the gas. "I'm sick of coincidences."



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