Don t Look Back Page 2

  Taking a composing breath, she rose and made her way toward the front. She waited while a few classmates spoke to Jameson. When the last one left, she stepped in front of him, and suddenly everyone else faded from her consciousness except Jameson King.

  He removed the wire-rimmed glasses he used for reading and stuck them in a pocket. “What a pleasant surprise to see you taking one of my classes again. Have you decided to come back to college?”

  She shook her head. “I just took advantage of the auditing program the college has for the townspeople. I figured I could use some persuasive techniques to get my mentoring program started at the high school.”

  “I thought for a moment you might be following in your brother’s footsteps and going into journalism.”

  “I’ll leave the reporting to him. He likes to dig for answers, not me.”

  “And he’s very good at what he does. I liked his last series of articles about the effects of the high cost of health insurance on the ordinary person.” Jameson collected his notes.

  “I thought I was the only one who followed Scott’s career.”

  He started for the door. “I read six or seven newspapers a day. The Savannah paper is one of them. I particularly like to read any work by a former student of mine.” He allowed her to go first into the hallway.

  “Does everyone still go to the Half Joe for coffee after classes?”

  “Yes. Some traditions haven’t changed.”

  “Would you care to join me there, then? I haven’t been since I returned to Magnolia Falls, and I spent many days and nights there studying and cramming for exams.”

  “Sure. I only planned to go home and grade some essays.”

  Outside the English building the warm October night with a hint of honeysuckle in the air enveloped Cassie. A full moon hung in the sky, its brightness obscuring the stars nearby.

  Jameson peered toward the parking lot at the side of the building, then toward the road. “Since it’s not far, do you want to walk?”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “How’s your new job going? Do you like it as much as your old one in Savannah?” Jameson asked as they crossed the street.

  “I love it. I’m a counselor at the high school. I really enjoy counseling teenagers. And the girls I work with on the gymnastics team are talented and eager to learn.”

  He made an tsking sound. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He looked at her directly as he opened the café’s door for her. “I’ve found if you have passion for what you teach, it’s hard not to convey that to your students. Before you know it, they’re feeling the same way.”

  Entering the Half Joe, Cassie scanned the college hangout for an empty chair or couch. She spied her brother sitting off in the corner with two tall men, probably a few years younger than Scott.

  “Ah, I see your brother is here. Now, that brings back some memories. We used to come here after class and have some lively conversations.”

  A group near her brother rose from a worn brown leather couch. Cassie pointed toward it. “Let’s grab it before someone else does.”

  As she wound her way through the maze of chairs and couches, she heard several people call out to Jameson. Her brother glanced up and saw them. Frowning, he returned his attention to the two young men he was talking to. He jotted something on a notepad on the table in front of him.

  Strange, Cassie thought, taking in the tension in Scott’s posture, the intensity in his expression. A minute ago she had been tempted to interrupt their conversation, but something warned her that her little brother wouldn’t be too happy with her, as though he was on assignment and nothing should interfere with his interview.

  When she sat on the couch, Jameson settled next to her and waved his hand for the waitress. “What would you like?”

  “A cup of green tea.”

  When the college-age woman stopped on the other side of the table in front of the couch, Jameson gave her their orders.

  The waitress’s expression brightened. “Anything else, Dr. King? We have freshly baked white-chocolate-and-macadamia nut cookies. I know how much you like those.”

  He patted his flat stomach. “I’m afraid too much. Not tonight.”

  “It’s obvious you still frequent this place,” Cassie said when the young woman left.

  “I wrote part of my book here.”

  “You did? The noise wasn’t distracting?”

  “I’m very good at tuning others out when I need to. But I found inspiration watching the different people, especially when I got stuck.”

  “When is your book coming out?” Cassie pushed her hair behind her ears.

  “Not for another year.”

  “Why a murder mystery?”

  “When I worked as a reporter, I covered several murder cases from beginning to end, so I drew on my experience.”

  “Write about what you know?”

  His smile transformed his face, erasing the hint of sadness she often saw lurking in the depths of his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve actually been involved in a murder case. Just as an observer.”

  “And now we have our very own murder case at the college.” A tremor snaked down Cassie’s spine when she thought about the unknown woman found in August who was still unidentified.

  The waitress placed their orders on the coffee table in front of them, giving Jameson a big grin and a shy once-over before leaving. Cassie wondered if the young woman had taken any of Jameson’s classes. He seemed oblivious to his effect on the female population, but she’d seen the look on the waitress’s face and knew what it meant. When she had been in his class years ago she’d probably had the same silly grin on her face.

  He took his mug and sipped his drink. “Even though it’s been nearly two months, everyone is still talking about the murdered woman.”

  “People love a good mystery.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping with my novel.”

  “Thinking of giving up teaching when you become a success?”

  “First, most writers don’t make a decent living with their writing, and second, the business is fickle.” He drank a swallow of his coffee. “Now, it’s my turn. Why are you taking my class?”

  She’d always been straightforward, and this time she couldn’t be any less than that. “When I saw you at the fund-raiser, I remembered how much I enjoyed your classes, so I signed up when this short course became available. As a teacher I can always use persuasive techniques in dealing with students.”

  She curled her hands around her mug of tea, her gaze drifting toward her brother, engrossed in a conversation with the two young men. The impression he was working on a story was still strong. So what did these two students have to do with it?

  “When we came in, you seemed surprised to see Scott here.”

  Jameson’s observation drew her attention back to the man beside her on the couch. “Yes. He stopped by the house earlier, but he didn’t say anything about coming here.”

  “In the past month I’ve seen him here several times.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t know he was visiting Magnolia Falls?”

  “No.” Again she glanced toward Scott. What was he up to? “Is he meeting with the same people?”

  “No, different ones. But I’ve found most of them are connected with the basketball team. I thought at first he might be helping out this season. Practice has started, and although he couldn’t go pro, he can still play.”

  “But he doesn’t. When the accident happened, he blamed himself for the team not going any further in the NCAA tournament that year.”

  “If I remember correctly, we had a good chance of winning the tournament.”

  Cassie felt uncomfortable being reminded of that awful time four years ago when her brother’s life came crashing down around him.

  “Granted, Scott was the star player, but as I told him then, he was only one member of the team.
Winning is a team effort and so is losing.”

  “I said basically the same thing to him, but it didn’t make any difference. He walked away from the game. He rarely even watches it. So why is he talking to members of the team?”

  Jameson arched an eyebrow, a gleam glinting in his eyes. “A good question. A story?”

  “Possibly. Is there a player who has a chance to go to the NBA?”

  “I gather you don’t follow basketball, either.”

  “No, just gymnastics. I only followed it when Scott played.”

  Jameson tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. “Maybe. There’s one who has a shot. Marcus Reed. He’s a junior.”

  “Reed? Any relation to the Kevin Reed who was involved in Scott’s injury on the basketball court?”

  “His younger brother. He has a lot more talent than Kevin did.”

  “Is Marcus one of the young men he’s with?”

  “No, but a reporter often interviews people around a subject.”

  “Then maybe he’s doing a story on Marcus. If so, that’s a good thing.” Cassie finished the last sip of her tea.

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think it was good that Scott walked away from basketball altogether. He lived and breathed it before the accident. He also harbored a lot of anger toward Kevin because of what happened. They were best friends, and now Kevin has dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “I imagine Kevin had a hard time dealing with the accident, too. Sometimes when something is too painful, you have to cut yourself off totally in order to survive.”

  Cassie suddenly realized they weren’t just talking about her brother and Kevin. What had been so painful in Jameson’s life? His wife’s death had occurred almost a year ago, and yet she’d sensed that deep pain even back when she had been in his class as a college student. “You can’t run forever. You have to face the problem and deal with it. It won’t go away.”

  A distant look dimmed his eyes. “True.”

  So intent on Jameson, she didn’t hear or see her brother approach until he cleared his throat and said, “Cassie, I didn’t know you were going to be here. I thought you were taking a class….”

  Her gaze swept to Scott on the other side of the coffee table. “I am. I signed up for Jameson’s persuasive writing class.”

  Her brother’s glance fell on his mentor, then back to Cassie. “You forgot to mention that.”

  “And you forgot to mention you’ve been coming to Magnolia Falls on a regular basis. Working on a story?”

  Scott’s expression went blank. “I’m always working on a story. Well, I’d better be going. I still have to drive back to Savannah. It’s good to see you, Jameson.” He nodded toward them, then left before Cassie could say anything else.

  “I think I scared him off with my question.”

  “I think you did, too.” Jameson stared at Scott as he made his way toward the door. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I have papers to grade. May I walk you to your car?”

  When he removed his wallet to pay, Cassie put her hand over his, stopping him. The touch singed her fingertips. “This is my treat. I invited you.”

  He started to say something but looked into her eyes and decided not to. Sliding his wallet back into his pocket, he rose. “Thanks. Next time will be my treat.”

  The idea there could be another time made her heart flutter. Then she caught sight of his wedding ring that he still wore. The glittering gold taunted her.

  His gaze trapped her full attention, and all thoughts fled her mind. She wanted to get to know him beyond the nice pleasantries they had shared. In college she’d had a simple schoolgirl’s crush on her handsome professor. Now she realized it could be so much more, but it was obvious he was still very much in love with his deceased wife.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she murmured finally.

  A few minutes later Cassie stepped outside with Jameson at her side. Aware of his every move, she crossed the street and strolled back toward the parking lot on campus where their cars were.

  At her Taurus she unlocked its door, then faced him. He was only a foot away, and she could smell his fresh, clean scent in the night air. She saw him cock a grin, making him appear younger, carefree.

  “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome.” She didn’t want the evening to end, but his demeanor had suddenly become one of a polite stranger, as though he suddenly realized how alone they were.

  “Good night. See you next week in class.”

  She slipped inside her car and watched him disappear into the darkness at the other end of the parking lot. Gripping the steering wheel, she laid her head on the cold plastic and dragged air into her lungs. Why did she feel as though she were playing with fire?

  Lord, he’s hurting. Please take his pain away.

  As she passed the Half Joe, Cassie glanced toward its parking lot on the right side of the building. The security light shone down on her brother standing in front of a tall young man she didn’t know. Scott waved his arm and pointed toward the campus. Cassie slowed her car. A scowl on his face, the young man shook his head and stalked toward the entrance into the café. Clearly frustrated, Scott pounded his fist on the top of his vehicle.

  Cassie started to make a U-turn to go back to see what was wrong with her brother, when he wrenched open his door, got into his car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction.

  What just happened?

  Stopping at a red light, Cassie looked in her rearview mirror as though the deserted street would give her answers. They were both keeping secrets. Maybe she and her brother were more alike than she had ever thought.

  At his apartment Jameson sat at the desk in his office, staring at the same paper he had been reading for the past half hour. He’d marked a few comments at the beginning, but after rereading the same paragraph several times, he realized he might as well call it quits. He wasn’t going to be able to grade papers tonight. His mind kept wandering back to this evening at the Half Joe with Cassie. Why had he accepted her invitation? He shouldn’t have.

  He knew the danger in getting too close to someone like her. She was as beautiful and vivacious as he remembered her ten years before. Actually, even more so. Now she was a woman who had experienced life and hadn’t been marred by its harsh realities.

  He lounged back in his chair, a vision of Cassie forming in his mind. Red shoulder-length hair and bright emerald-green eyes a man could get lost in. He scrubbed his hands down his face and shot to his feet. Restless energy surged through him. He needed to get away for a couple of days.

  How could he think of Cassie in that way? He had no right to, although his wife had died nearly a year ago after being in a coma for twelve years. But if it hadn’t been for him, Liz would still be alive. He’d carry that guilt to the grave.

  He strode into his bedroom across the hall and snatched up a duffel bag. After stuffing a few extra pieces of clothing into it, he zipped it up and grabbed his car keys. He’d drive up the coast, clear his head.

  As he walked toward the front door, his phone rang. He paused and started toward the table to pick it up. Halfway there, he stopped and let it continue to ring. Finally his answering machine picked up the call.

  “Jameson, this is Scott. After seeing you tonight at the café, I knew I needed to talk to you about this story I’m working on. Please call me as soon as you can.”

  Jameson reached for the receiver and froze, his wedding ring he still wore ridiculing him. No. He couldn’t deal with Cassie’s brother right now. Scott looked so much like Cassie. He would speak to the young man when he came back tomorrow evening—after he’d closed his heart to her.

  THREE

  F riday night Jameson tossed his duffel bag onto his bed and glanced at his answering machine. Three messages. Sinking down onto the covers, he pushed the button to listen to the recording.

  “This is Scott. I was checking to see if you were home since you weren’t
at the college. I want to come by to talk to you.” The time of that call was noon.

  Jameson pressed the next message left three hours ago.

  “I’m on to something big. I need your advice. I may be too close to this. Call as soon as you can. I have to talk to you. If I’m not here, my calls are being forwarded to my cell so I’ll be available.”

  Jameson lifted his receiver and punched in Cassie’s brother’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Jameson told him to call as soon as he could, that he would be at home. Then realizing he had another message, Jameson listened to the last one, left only a half an hour before.

  “Jameson! Where are you?” Jameson heard a sound in the background, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Call! I need to talk—” The line went dead.

  Had someone interrupted Scott? The message ended so abruptly.

  Concern seeped into Jameson. He replayed the message, but still couldn’t figure out what the noise was. He tried both Scott’s cell and his apartment, but again no answer. Why didn’t Scott pick up on his cell if he was waiting for him to call? Maybe Scott hung up earlier because he was angry that he wasn’t home. That could explain the sudden end to the message.

  But what was that noise? Maybe Scott was pacing and knocked into something.

  Unease nagged Jameson as he trudged toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He needed to grade those papers. He would do that while he waited for Scott to return his call. Maybe he was busy and couldn’t answer. Scott was a reporter and a grown man. He could certainly take care of himself, but there was something in his voice that…

  He shook off his worry, remembering when he’d been a reporter and working a case. Sometimes he would lose track of time and become so focused on the story that nothing else mattered, not even eating.

  After fixing a mug, Jameson took it into his office and settled down to work. But as he stared at the stack of essays, his mind was filled with his unsuccessful trip up the coast. Cassie’s smile still dominated his thoughts. She was a breath of fresh air in his stale life. For the past twelve years he had been going through the motions of living, but how could he have gone on with his life when Liz was in a coma because of him?