When they were settled in a booth he gave her a moment to sip her coffee and savor. In the café’s brighter light those circles under her eyes looked darker and her hair a little messier as if she’d run her hands through it. She wore the silver bracelets like always. Even at the fancy party the other night she’d worn the bracelets.
“Tell me about the call.”
She stiffened. “Creepy. We tape all our calls.”
“I’ll be sure to listen to it. But I want to hear it from you.”
She shook her head as she traced the rim of her coffee cup with her fingertip. “I’ve heard it all. Sad people. Angry people. Despondent. Desperate. But this gal. She said my name as if we’d met.”
“A woman?”
“Yeah. She had a strange voice. Almost childlike.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
“Did you use your name when you answered the phone?”
“Yes. I always do. It makes it more personal.”
“Greer is an unusual name.”
“Kind of why I used it. It was different from Elizabeth.”
“Is it a family name?”
“No.” She sipped her coffee. “My mom loved old movies. Greer Garson was one of her favorites. Jeffrey’s middle name was Robert for Robert Taylor.”
He sipped his coffee. Right before dispatch had called tonight he’d been fighting fatigue. Now he was wide awake. Not because of the coffee but because of Greer. She injected energy into him. “So what did the caller say?”
“She talked about sin.”
As she gave him the rundown anger and fear banded in his body. He really did want to take this person apart. “What did she mean by ‘you and the others?’”
“I don’t know. But she must know about me and my past.”
“Your past is not hard to dig up. A Google search tossed out a good bit of it when I searched.”
She frowned as if the idea unsettled. “At first I thought it was someone’s idea of a sick joke.” She ran her finger under the bracelets. He caught the faintest glimpse of those thin white scars. “But she was serious. She believes everything she said.”
“Did she mention Rory or Sara?”
“No.”
“Anyone else from Shady Grove?”
“No.”
Her hands and the silver bracelets encircling her wrists drew his gaze. The urge to lay his hand over hers intensified as the seconds ticked by. “What do the bracelets mean? You never take them off.”
The question caught her off guard. She glanced at them and realized she’d been touching them. Straightening, she shrugged. “They’re just bracelets.”
“You always wear them. Always. And when you’re tense you touch them. They’re important to you. There are three of them.”
She stared at them, her gaze pensive. “You are a Ranger, what do you think?”
He sat back in his booth and stared at the challenge in her gaze. “In the accident three people died. Your brother, his girlfriend, and Elizabeth.”
She nodded slowly. “Bingo.”
“But you didn’t die.”
“The person I was did perish. I could never have slipped back into Elizabeth’s life after the accident.”
“It’s been twelve years.”
“And time changes nothing. Jeff and Sydney are still dead. I never want to forget what happened.”
“No sane person forgets that kind of an accident, Greer. No one. You don’t need bracelets to remember.”
“I’m afraid I will.” She whispered the words as if it were a dark secret. “I’m afraid one day I won’t think about Jeff or Sydney and it will be as if they never lived. I can’t let that happen.”
“When did you start wearing the bracelets?”
“My aunt Lydia gave them to me when I told her I was afraid of forgetting. She pulled the three bracelets out of her jewelry box and clasped them around my wrist.”
“Did you wear a bracelet at Shady Grove?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yeah. Red rope bracelets. I made them for everyone. I called us the red team. I left mine behind.”
Both his victims had worn red rope bracelets. His gut knotted.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” He managed a smile. For now, he’d keep the detail close. “Do you always wear those bracelets?”
She hesitated as if the words bore too heavily. “On the anniversary of the accident, I go to church and have them blessed by the priest. I pray for the dead. I want them to know I still care. Still remember.”
So much life bubbled inside of Greer. He saw it every time he looked at her. She had much to offer, but the past hung around her neck like an anchor. “Anybody go with you?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
She sighed. “Mom tries. She does. But losing Jeff just about killed her. He was all she could ever have dreamed of in a son. No mother should have to bury a child.”
“I’ve read the accident reports, Greer. You were fifteen and no one should have let you drive home that night. No one.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You were a kid. It wasn’t your call.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint Jeffrey.”
“He shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“You make it sound like it was his fault. I’m the one that swerved off the road.”
He nodded. “It was partly his fault. He was twenty-one and had a blood alcohol three times the legal limit. His girlfriend was equally drunk.”
She shook her head. “I really don’t want to sit here and malign them.”
“I’m not asking you to. But let me be clear. That accident wasn’t all your fault.” He thought about her claims about the second driver, claims the officer at the scene had dismissed. “What can you tell me about the other driver?”
Her gaze sharpened. “No one has ever asked me about him. They think I made him up.”
Desperation radiated from her. Whatever the cops believed, she believed there’d been a second driver. “I’m asking.”
She fingered the bracelets and pursed her lips. “We were driving home. Everything was fine. I was sober. And then the headlights on the road. I didn’t think about it at first. And then he switched into my lane. I thought he’d move, but he kept coming. I hit the horn. And he kept coming. At the last second before we were to cross a narrow bridge I panicked and swerved. I hit the tree. My air bags deployed, but Jeff and Sydney were thrown clear.”
Her hands trembled now and the urge to touch her intensified. “Anything else you can tell me about the second car?”
“Until last night, no.”
“What happened last night?”
“I dreamed about the accident. I dreamed the other driver came up to my car and touched my hair. Told me I’d saved his life.” She shook her head. “I guess the stress of Rory and Sara is pulling all kinds of weird stuff out of my brain.”
“Or a memory.”
“The police never found traces of a second car.”
“By the time you were conscious and mentioned the second car it had rained heavily. If there’d been traces, they were washed away.”
A half smile tugged the edge of her mouth. “It sounds like you believe me.”
“I do.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Really? Why? Everyone else thought I made the second driver up.”
“Summing people up is what I do for a living. I believe you.”
Her gaze softened and held his for a long moment. “Thanks.”
She’d trusted him. Now he’d trust her.
“I believe Sara was murdered.”
Her face paled. “What?”
“We found her car miles away from where we found her body, and she didn’t strike me as the kind of gal who walked that kind of distance especially in heels. There is no record she called a cab or a friend to drive her to the second location.”
A wrinkle furrowed the soft skin between her eyes. “Sara was murdered.”
“Yeah.”
“So she couldn’t have killed Rory?”
“I don’t know how the two figure together. But I’ve two people who both stayed at Shady Grove and both are dead from apparent suicide.” He tapped the edge of his cup with his index finger trying to gauge how much he should tell her. Like a fisherman tosses a baited line in the water, he opted to give her a detail. “I went to Shady Grove the day before yesterday to get the list of kids who were there the same time you were.”