He rested his hand on his hip. “You think money bought Greer out of trouble?”
“I think she’d been drinking. I think she shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, and I think she made up the second driver to cover her tracks. And her family backed her up.”
His index finger tapped against his belt. “Did you know she’d stayed in Austin after the accident?”
“I know after she tried to kill herself she vanished. I asked around but wherever she went no one was talking. Eventually, I had to give it up and move on with my life.”
“And you ran into her by accident at the feed store?”
He shook his head, astonishment evident. “Yeah. Like seeing a ghost from the past.”
“And you confronted her.”
“She’d been laughing. And it made me mad. I can promise you if my sister had been driving that car twelve years ago and she’d killed Elizabeth and her brother she’d have done jail time.”
“Greer was fifteen and sober.”
“Sober. Right. Families like the Templetons can make donations to the sheriff’s reelection campaign and ugly facts like a drunk daughter vanish.” His fingers curled into fists before relaxing a fraction.
“She was about the age of your daughter at the time of the accident.”
Dowd paled. “Don’t compare Jenna to Greer. My girl is a hard worker. Makes good grades and is a straight shooter. She doesn’t run around with rich country club kids. I won’t allow it.”
“You know about Greer’s time at Shady Grove?”
“No. Why would I? I do know it’s a place for rich kids who can’t cut it.”
“You ever know anyone who stayed at Shady Grove?”
“Like I said many of my clients are rich. If they or their kids spent time at the place, I didn’t know about it. I keep it polite with that kind because they’re my bread and butter, but I don’t mix with them.”
“Greer received a call the other night at the Crisis Center. The caller was female. She said some mighty nasty things to Greer.”
“So?”
“She said the caller sounded young.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Your daughter is young. Would you have put her up to the call?”
The color drained from his face. “How dare you drag my daughter into this. She was just a baby when Sydney died.”
“She loves you very much. Maybe you put her up to the call.”
“No. Never.”
Bragg looked around the barn, absorbing details. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay away from Greer Templeton.”
“Why, Ranger? I was mad and I told her so. Last I checked it’s a free country.”
He bared white teeth into a smile that was not a smile. “Yes, sir, it is. But I’m offering you a friendly warning where it comes to Ms. Templeton. Leave her be.”
“What’s she to you? She your girlfriend?”
He had no idea what Greer was to him, other than a name in an investigation or a mentor to his nephew. He’d known her all of five days, but it was enough to care. To protect. But Dowd didn’t need a speech on the matter. He took a step toward Dowd. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Dr. Dowd.”
Dowd took a step back but mutiny burned in his gaze.
A blistering headache pounded behind Jennifer’s eyes as she moved across the parking lot toward her car. She clicked the entry and moved behind the wheel, savoring the heat of the seats. She’d been cold all day, unable to shake the chill slithering into her bones the moment she’d stepped into the shop today. The shop had felt off, wrong. She’d searched for signs of a break-in or trouble, but when everything checked out she’d attributed her unease to Greer’s visit.
Greer had stirred the cauldron of her emotions. She’d rattled her. Made her edgy. And then that damn Ranger had arrived. He’d reminded her of an ancient barbarian. No conscience. No concern. Even the thought of the man made her stomach churn.
The afternoon in the shop had been crazy busy and she’d set a record in sales. Any other day and she’d have been brimming with satisfaction, but today panic burrowed as if the foundation under her feet crumbled.
Needing to connect to the present, she dialed her fiancé. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey, babe,” she said.
“You headed home?” His soft smooth voice soothed her. Unlike Bragg, Adam was a sweet, kind man.
She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten that lucky, but she’d landed a great guy. She’d do anything not to lose him. “Yes. We were late closing. Couldn’t get rid of some customers. One didn’t buy a single item, but the other bought a nice Vera Wang. The sales justified the extra half hour.”
“Good job.”
She traced the steering wheel with a manicured finger. The day’s stress ebbed from her muscles. “So what are you doing?”
“Hanging out by the pool waiting for you, babe. Hurry home. We can go skinny-dipping.”
She laughed, reaching for her water bottle. “Sounds fun. See you in a few.”
She drank deeply from the bottle, savoring the cold water. It refreshed her. Fuck Greer and all the bullshit from the past. She was in a good place now, and if someone really did figure out the truth, what could be proved? Nothing.
She yawned as she backed out of her spot and headed down Congress Avenue. She was glad Adam’s house was a couple of miles from her store. She was more tired than she’d thought. At a second stoplight she closed her eyes determined to rest them for only a minute. The honking of a horn behind her startled her awake and had her shaking her head. What was wrong with her? She’d not experienced this kind of bone-weary fatigue since . . . since the night she’d taken that bottle of her mother’s pills.
Fear rose up from a hidden part in her, and she gripped her steering wheel. She’d not touched a drug in twelve years. Not even an aspirin. And she’d not had a drink of alcohol in over a year. But she felt drugged. Panic growing, she pulled her car over to the side of the road and reached for her cell phone. Her vision blurred as she stared at the numbers that now danced and spun. Just like before, she panicked after taking the pills and dialed 911.
She hit the nine but an extreme heaviness had her head tipping back against the headrest. Wake up! She fumbled her thumb from the nine to the one and managed to hit it once. She hit the second one but fatigue pried her fingers open and the cell dropped from her hands before she could hit SEND.
Greer dreamed of the accident again. Lights, a horrendous crash, and screaming.
She sat up in bed, and shoved a trembling hand through her hair. Her heart raced and her mouth had grown as dry as cotton. A glance at the clock told her it was minutes after three.
Rising, she moved into the kitchen, took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water. She drank heavily, savoring the water as if she’d not had any in days.
Finally, when she didn’t feel extremely parched she turned and leaned against the sink, cradling the glass close to her chest. The thought of returning to bed left a chill in her bones. She didn’t want to risk reliving the accident again. There was work, always work, but she was weary of staring at numbers and worrying over the ripeness of her vineyard.
Restless, she set down the glass. If Lydia had been alive, she’d have risen by now, made them both tea, and together they’d sit at the kitchen table and discuss everything and nothing. Now without Lydia, she was adrift.
Her mind went to Bragg. Perhaps if it had been the clear light of day she’d have pushed thoughts of him away, but here alone in the dark she welcomed his warm embrace, if merely in her imagination.
After moments passed, she felt foolish standing here alone thinking of a man out of her reach. She pushed away from the counter, set down the glass, and returned to her room. With a wary glance toward her unmade bed, she went to her closet and turned on the light inside. Her gaze roamed over her collection of shirts and jeans up to boxes that stacked high on the top shelf. She reached for the lowest box but at first her fingers only grazed the dusty cardboard. Finally, she grabbed a chrome chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of the closet.