Don t Look Back Read online

  “Me, too. She was pregnant our last semester. And the woman found under the sidewalk had been.”

  “The police are slowly narrowing the list of missing women down.”

  “Not fast enough for me. I keep feeling I knew the victim.” Although the murder happened ten years ago, she couldn’t shake the sense of having lost maybe two people in her life in a short period of time. How was she going to deal with Jameson moving on when her brother’s murder was solved?

  “Since this is a small-enough college, that’s definitely a possibility. But for tonight, let’s put everything behind us. Dr. Whitston deserves this celebration. He’s been a good leader these past years. I’m going to hate seeing him leave at the end of the spring term.”

  Cassie started down the stairs into the Event Hall. “I think the fun has begun without us. Dr. Rutherford has outdone himself tonight.”

  “When you want to be the next president, you make an impression. Cornell has always been good at that.”

  “Ah, I see him over there basking in the current president’s approval.” Cassie gestured toward a group of people near the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. “There’s his wife, who’s Steff’s cousin.”

  “He’s no fool. When you’re part of the Kessler family, you make sure everyone in the room knows it.”

  “I haven’t seen Madeline Rutherford in years. She hasn’t changed one bit.”

  “She has the money to take care of herself. I’m sure she doesn’t spare any expense.”

  “And speaking of Steff, there she is with Trevor.”

  Cassie and Jameson joined the couple near one of the buffet tables, laden with a silver tray of crackers, as well as various kinds of cheese, vegetable and fruit platters, boiled shrimp and a glistening dish of caviar.

  “I see you made your grand entrance fifteen minutes late,” Steff said, moving off to the side after filling her plate with vegetables and fruits slathered in their special dips. “This is the second time today you’ve been late. That’s so unusual for you, Cassie.”

  “I’ve decided it’s fun to shake things up a little bit.”

  “What do you think of her new haircut?” Steff looked right at Jameson.

  Cassie wanted to crawl under the table behind her now ex-friend.

  Jameson made a production out of studying her hair, turning his back to Steff so she couldn’t see him winking at Cassie. “New haircut? I don’t see anything different.”

  The innocent look he gave Steff caused Cassie to brush her hand across her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Men can be so blind….” Steff paused and stared into Jameson’s eyes. “You noticed.”

  He nodded. “And as a dutiful date, when I picked her up I mentioned it as well as the attractive black cocktail dress she has on.”

  Trevor laughed. “Honey, I think this is a good time to remind you about checking the PA system.”

  “Yes, I promised Cornell I would do that for him. I’m actually surprised he delegated that job to me. He’s been running around trying to do everything himself today.” She started toward the front, then stopped and added, “I will admit it’s been nice not having to do everything.”

  When her friend left, Cassie said, “It’s good to see Steff so happy. I know you are the reason, Trevor.”

  As Cornell hurried past them to catch Steff, Trevor set his plate on a large tray nearby. “I empathize with Cornell. He married into the Kessler family, and I can tell you it isn’t easy trying to fit in. Even though we’re engaged, Steff’s parents have never thought I was good enough for their daughter.”

  “You think Cornell went through the same thing?”

  “I’ve seen him at a few family functions, and Madeline definitely has final say. That can’t be easy for someone like Cornell.”

  Cassie searched for the head of the English Department at the front of the room with Steff. She’d never thought to feel sorry for the man, especially when hearing his youngest son talk about how heavy-handed his father was. Cornell, as Steff pointed out, wanted everything done a certain way and didn’t tolerate mess-ups.

  “Trevor, I was hoping to see you tonight.” Zachary Kirkland joined them. “I’ve looked over your estimate, and my wife and I want to go ahead with the renovation project.”

  “We’ll need to schedule a meeting.”

  “How about Monday at two before practice?”

  Trevor thought a moment. “I can make that. Your office at the gym?”

  “Yes.” The head basketball coach shifted his attention to Jameson, then Cassie. “Cassie, I’m so sorry about Scott. I can’t believe someone would want to kill him.”

  “Mom and I appreciated you and your staff coming to the funeral.”

  Quinn Nelson approached them and slipped in beside Zachary.

  “Quinn and I were discussing doing something for Scott. I know you planted the memorial garden, but we wanted to do something connected to the team. I thought we would retire his number.”

  “Before his accident Scott lived for basketball. Retiring his number would be great.” She could remember seeing a few jerseys framed and mounted on the wall in the lobby of the gym for all the patrons to see.

  “Some of the players will be disappointed they don’t get to wear that number,” Quinn said. “Usually the honor is reserved for someone who goes to the NBA, but if Scott hadn’t been hurt, he would have.”

  Thinking about her brother’s missed chance produced a tightness in her throat. “I’m sure he would have. Several pro teams were actively courting him.”

  “Have the police gotten any leads?” the head coach asked, then stuck his hand into his pocket and withdrew his cell. “I’m sorry, I have to take this call. Excuse me.”

  While Zachary moved toward an exit, Quinn said, “He’s expecting a call from a recruiter. We’ve all been hoping and praying the police discover who murdered Scott.”

  “So far they don’t know much. If they do, they aren’t saying.” Cassie’s words came out in a raspy voice. She swallowed several times, but the lump of emotions lodged itself firmly in her throat.

  Jameson slid his arm around her. “So the big question this year, are the Tigers going all the way to the championship?”

  “The competition is stiff, but we haven’t been this strong since Scott was on the team.”

  Cassie saw the men around her through a blurry veil. “Excuse me.” She slipped from Jameson’s loose hold and hurried toward the entrance.

  She needed to escape before she cried in front of a roomful of people. She needed to get herself under control. She was halfway across the lobby when Jameson halted her with a hand on her arm.

  “Cassie?”

  “Let me go.” She had to get to the restroom before she broke down in front of him. Tears swam in her eyes, and she averted her head.

  He loosened his grip but moved into her line of vision. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Why now, Lord?

  She cleared her throat. “I just want to be alone.”

  “Normally I’m a person who certainly understands about being alone, but Cassie, you aren’t like me. Let me help you. I know that conversation was tough on you. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay—”

  She lifted her teary eyes to his. “It’s not okay.” Her world was flying apart, as though for weeks she had held herself together but all of a sudden was dissolving.

  He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a door that led outside. When the cool night air hit her hot cheeks, it released the dam on her emotions, and tears spilled from her eyes. She mopped her free hand across her cheeks as Jameson pulled her down the path to a secluded part of the garden.

  Tears are useless. Quit acting like a baby. Her gymnastics coach’s words reverberated through her mind. At the age of nine she had learned to stop crying.

  Now after years of suffering any anguish silently, she couldn’t halt the flow of tears down her face. Jameson placed his forefinger under her chin and tilted it up until t
heir gazes connected. He brushed the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks, then drew her against him, holding her close.

  “Cassie, let it out. You lost your brother recently.”

  The tender appeal in his voice fueled her tears even more. “I don’t—do—this.” But as she declared that, an image of Scott in his coffin at the funeral focused her on the emotions she’d been trying to deny.

  “Then maybe you should,” he whispered against the top of her head.

  She couldn’t hold back anymore. Sadness and grief poured from her. She’d never see Scott again. She’d never tease him or come to his rescue. He was her baby brother—the little boy she’d helped raise because her mother had her hands full trying to make enough money for them to live on.

  Chilled, Cassie burrowed into the safe cocoon of Jameson’s embrace, seeking his warmth. She cried for her brother; she cried for all those times she’d kept it bottled up inside her. Finally when she had no feelings left, she sniffed and leaned back, wiping the wet tracks away.

  “I think that was over twenty years’ worth.” Her smile quivered as she stared into his eyes, the lights from the inn just enough for her to see a lopsided grin curve his mouth.

  “Do you feel better?” He cradled her face with such gentleness her aching heart began to hammer against her chest.

  “Yes.” She laid her hands on his shoulders, becoming lost in his look—a look that said she was the only one who mattered to him.

  “Normally when I see a woman cry, I run the other way. But if it helped you, that’s great.”

  “I had a coach who thought any tears were a sign of weakness. He would drum that into us until there was no way we would cry.”

  “It makes some of us uncomfortable because we don’t know what to do.”

  She smoothed her hands across his shoulders. “You did just fine.”

  His grin broadened. “So holding you was the correct thing to do?”

  “Absolutely.” She didn’t want to leave his embrace. In the middle of all this tragedy, she’d found love, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment.

  “Then I’m glad I could help.”

  She wanted to do the same for him. He might never know how much she loved him, but she could at least help him. “You know what worked for me can work for you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You want me to cry?”

  “If you feel like it, that’s fine. But what I meant is if you want to talk about your wife’s death, I’m here for you. Keeping our feelings bottled up inside us doesn’t solve anything. Something will give.”

  He looked toward a stone bench, illuminated by a stream of light from the inn. He took her hand and led her to it, then sat. “I learned early to keep my feelings to myself. Then when I became an investigative reporter, that was constantly reinforced. I nearly destroyed my marriage.”

  He felt his cell vibrating. As the people around him continued to discuss the upcoming basketball season, he slipped away from the group in the Event Hall at the inn. He withdrew the phone and saw the number.

  Clamping his jaws together, he rushed into the lobby and found a quiet alcove, then flipped his cell open.

  “You shouldn’t be calling me. I told you I would be at the reception tonight.”

  “Where’s the money you owe me? I need it.”

  “Don’t you mean the money you’ve blackmailed me for? Isn’t it enough that I’ve been helping you out of your mess?” If he thought Scott’s killer would murder his blackmailer, he would—no, that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t afford for something to go wrong. Too much at stake.

  “No! You owe me! And you know why. I’d better get it tomorrow or—”

  The unspoken threat bothered him. “I’ll get it to you. The usual place.”

  “Yes.”

  The phone went dead. He snapped his closed and examined the area to make sure no one had overheard him. He’d let his temper get the better of him. He needed to watch that or he’d make a mistake.

  ELEVEN

  S itting in the Mossy Inn’s garden, Jameson settled his elbows on his thighs, rubbing his thumb across his palm. “I didn’t want Liz to be involved in the ugly side of my job. Some of the stories I covered would have caused her to lose faith in humanity. She was such a gentle soul. I could never do that to her, so I kept quiet and protected her from that part of my life.”

  “You did what you thought was best.” Cassie covered his clasped hands.

  “Yeah.” Bitterness leaked into his voice. “What was best would have been not being a reporter sticking his nose into places others didn’t want me to.”

  “You were trying to make this world a better place. How did your wife get hurt?” She felt him stiffen beneath her palms, but she didn’t remove her touch, nor was she going to let him not answer her question—not this time.

  “As usual I was running late, and she went to our boat to prepare for our weekend trip. When she saw me coming, she started the engine, then hopped up onto the pier to greet me. As I waved to her, the boat exploded, sending her flying into the water.” He shook his head as though trying to rid himself of images too horrific to visualize. “I ran to her as fast as I could, but by the time I dove into the water and found her, she’d been under for several minutes. She’d been hit by a piece of the boat and never regained consciousness.”

  “It was an accident. There wasn’t anything you could do about it.”

  His gaze swerved to her. “The police discovered the boat had been rigged with a bomb. It was later linked to a story I was working on, but no one was arrested for it. Not enough evidence. Her killer is still out there.” He hung his head. “The bomb was meant for me.”

  “Your presence there wouldn’t have changed what happened to your wife.”

  He jerked up and twisted toward her. “She didn’t want to leave for the weekend. She only came because I asked her to. We were having problems, and I wanted to try to work them out.”

  “What kind of problems?” For some reason she knew that was important.

  “She was going to leave me. I talked her into giving me one last chance. I was determined to use the weekend trip as a time to open up to her. I thought if we got away from the city and my job I could. If I had let her leave like she wanted, she would be alive today.”

  “So you blame yourself, not the person who actually placed the bomb?”

  He yanked his hands from her grasp. “Yes! I didn’t want to admit our marriage was over. Her parents told her when she married me it wouldn’t last and I didn’t want them to be right. It was my pride that put her in harm’s way.”

  “Is that why you left your profession?”

  His piercing look sliced through her. “I finished the story and it led to several arrests. All I can hope is that one of those men was the one who put the bomb on my boat.” He shot to his feet and paced a few steps away. “But after that story, I didn’t have the drive or heart to continue being a reporter.”

  “You became a teacher instead.”

  He prowled the small garden alcove, as though he could barely contain the energy zipping through him. “Purely by accident. I brought Liz home to Savannah and put her in a sanatorium. I felt the least I could do for her parents would be to have her close so they could visit her easily. I knew someone at the Savannah paper. He’s the one who suggested I try my hand at teaching. He knew about the opening at Magnolia College. The rest is history.”

  Glimpsing the anguish in his expression, she rose and closed the short distance between them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His eyes grew round. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “If it’s all of your story. I don’t think it is.”

  “Maybe you should have been a reporter. You have good instincts.”

  “Which serve me well as a counselor. I need to be able to read people, because sometimes they don’t want to tell me what is really wrong.”

  He inclined his head. “Touché. There isn’t much more.
For the first few years, I had hope that Liz would come out of her coma. I went to church. I prayed to the Lord to heal Liz. He didn’t. For twelve years I went twice a week to watch my wife slowly wither away. And the whole time I had to face her parents and their anger that I was alive and their daughter was in a coma because of me. They never let me forget that.”

  “Because you let them keep reminding you. Did you think if you were miserable enough that would change what happened, that they would forgive you?”

  Jameson sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t pull any punches.”

  “I care about you.” She so desperately wished she could declare her love, but she couldn’t. “You’ve been punishing yourself and living in a self-made prison.” She stepped closer. “Instead of turning away from God, turn toward Him. It isn’t Liz’s parents’ forgiveness you need, but your own. The Lord can help you with that. Until you forgive yourself, you truly won’t be living. Remember Jesus died on the cross for our sins. That includes what you think you’ve done to Liz and her parents.”

  He stared beyond her for a long moment, the quiet filled with an occasional voice coming from the inn. When he looked again into her eyes, something had changed in his expression. Or was it her imagination, trying to read more in the dim light?

  He shifted closer, framing her face. “You are the first person I’ve shared that with. What is it about you that makes it seem so natural?”

  My love for you, she wanted to whisper in the still of the night.

  “I have to admit I haven’t had many women friends to talk to. And guys don’t usually go into all this emotional stuff.”

  I want to be more than your friend. She clamped her lips together to keep that inside.

  His fingers delved into her hair. His lips hovered above hers. If she stood on her tiptoes, they would touch.

  “I’m so glad we got reacquainted at the fund-raiser.”

  The whisper softness of his words brushed her skin. Kiss me.

  The pull of Cassie called to Jameson. The fullness of her mouth drew him against his better judgment. They were friends. That was all it could ever be, and yet he wanted to kiss her. He shoved the urge away as he released her.