Family Skeletons Read online

  “Will you be okay?” Ryan called after him. He directed his gaze to the Bowers brothers farther up the beach, then back to Matthew.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said easily. “They just talk big, that’s all.”

  They take after their father.

  Matthew glanced at Sunny. “But then again, you don’t want to take them lightly, either. Take care, Sunny. See you around.”

  “Seems like a good kid,” Ryan said, as he watched Matthew trudge his way up the beach. His bare feet left deep gouges in the wet sand. The tide was rising. The other boys’ prints had already been wiped clean.

  She nodded absently, agreeing with Ryan, but her mind had lit upon an unsettling fact that she’d almost missed.

  Ryan gave her a sideways glance, eyes narrowing. “What’s the matter? Are you still worried about them?”

  But she barely heard him. She continued to watch the receding figures. “It wasn’t either one of them,” she murmured. “It couldn’t have been. There goes my whole scenario.”

  He looked at her, at the three boys in the distance, then back at her. “What are you talking about? You’re not making much sense here, Sunny.”

  “Neither of them pushed me off the cliff. They’re too tall.”

  Her eyes met his then, hers intent as she continued to work it out. “When anyone that tall stands next to me—I feel it with Jonathan sometimes—there’s a sensation of height. It’s like someone’s looming over me. But I didn’t get that feeling when I was pushed. Whoever came up behind me wasn’t a whole lot taller than I am.”

  He looked thoughtful and dubious at the same time. “Are you thinking it was Matthew?”

  She looked away. “It could’ve been, but I still don’t think it was.”

  “Come to think of it, Tom’s not a big guy, either.”

  “No, he’s not. And Langley Bowers isn’t as tall as his sons. But it wasn’t he, either, unless he went on the wagon. I didn’t smell booze.” She laughed without humor and shook her head, as if to clear it. “And I guess that also lets Mavis out. Neither did I smell tobacco.”

  Then, for an instant, she froze.

  She quit, Sunny. Remember?

  Chapter Twenty

  Sunny had never been addicted to television, not in San Francisco with cable and its multiple choices, nor at Corday Cove with its limited channels. Although she might sit in front of a television set to keep company with its viewer, generally she’d have something in her lap to read or work on.

  Tonight, however, she refused to share her book with the TV. At the supermarket she’d found John Grisham’s latest in paperback. She planned on an early bath and then propping herself up in bed and reading the night away. The author was the best substitute she could find for Jonathan Corday.

  Thinking of Jonathan made her glance yearningly down the hall toward his room. But you come in a distinct second, Mr. Grisham.

  After her bath, she pulled the covers back on the bed in her old room, added extra pillows and then slipped between the sheets, wondering if she also wanted to indulge in a cup of hot cocoa. Then she paused, shook her head, and swore softly. She got out of bed, donned her robe, and descended the stairs.

  Sounds issuing from the parlor told her Ryan had found a car chase on TV. When she appeared in the doorway, he put his hand up, unable to tear his attention away from the screen. She waited, listening to grating gear changes and accelerated speeds.

  She entered the room and faced the set. The front wheels of a car rocked on the edge of a gully, then settled. The camera cut away to where flames and smoke mushroomed. Then the scene flashed back to the stalled Mustang that was a safe distance from the exploding gas pumps, with a pained-looking but stoic Steve McQueen sitting behind the wheel.

  You might not be able to drag him away from this one, Sunny. Can you do without?

  I can if he can.

  When the set switched off, she looked at Ryan in surprise.

  He shrugged. “It’s over. Or at least the car chase is. Did you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes. I wanted to ask a favor. I, uh...”

  He grinned. “Forgot something at the grocery store and you’re not exactly dressed for another shopping trip. Seems like old times.” He lifted Cat off his lap and stood. He’d been in the animal’s favorite chair, and she quickly jumped back up to claim it. “What do you need?”

  “Coffee.”

  “Okay. Come to think of it, I saw you empty the can when you made that pot for me this morning. But I didn’t remember it when we were at the store either.” On his way out of the room he deposited the remote on top of the TV where it belonged, then reached in his pocket for keys. “Is Bev’s still open?”

  “If you hurry. She stays open until dark, usually.”

  It didn’t seem right to go back to bed while her guest was out running errands, so Sunny brought her book downstairs and warmed milk for hot chocolate, making enough for Ryan if he wanted some when he returned. The evening was still, the air was cool but comfortable, so she took the book and her cup of hot cocoa to the porch and snapped the light on. Cat must’ve gotten bored without the TV on because she came to join her mistress. Sunny sat on one chair and propped her feet on the other.

  I could get used to this. It’s nice.

  Then she felt her eyes turning empty. Several times today she’d gotten the feeling that the house itself missed Jonathan. The kitten stood in front of the screen now as if looking for him. With a sharp shake of her head, Sunny opened her book. Grisham’s first character gripped her immediately, and she was into the second chapter before her concentration was broken. Her head snapped up.

  What was that?

  Cat’s head was also tilted, as if in listening mode. It had sounded like a footfall, a stealthy step that had dislodged pebbles in the graveled driveway that circled the house. Sunny waited for the sound to repeat. It didn’t, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t out there. Twilight had turned into dusk and she could see little of the yard through the wraparound screen. She put the book down and got to her feet. Her mind raced over the house, every window and door. She’d checked them all before getting into the bathtub and the house was locked up tight.

  Except for the screen door right in front of her.

  Ryan had gone out that way, and she hadn’t secured it after him. Quickly she slid the locking mechanism into place. Her hand didn’t tremble, but her heart was beating extra fast. In almost the same motion she flicked the outside light on and the inside one off.

  Only the porch stairs and a small area beyond were illuminated, but at least she wasn’t as brightly outlined as she had been. Cat stood poised in front of the screen door, as if waiting for it to open.

  I’m not opening up for you or for any other reason.

  She picked up Cat and entered the kitchen, and locked that door behind her as well. The book and her cocoa remained on the porch. She wasn’t going back after either one.

  It was more than the solitary sound that had convinced her someone was out there. Her senses, especially that inexplicable sixth one, told her that someone was there who meant her harm. She couldn’t explain it. She just knew it.

  Her baseball bat was under her bed upstairs, but at the moment she preferred to stay downstairs where she could hear and identify sounds. She and Cat sat on the bottom step of the staircase and kept each other company. Once Ryan returned, the car would scare away the intruder. The person might have already lit out once he’d realized Sunny was aware of him.

  “What’s taking our friend so long?” she whispered to Cat. “Did he get lost?”

  In response, Cat turned her motor up a notch and settled more comfortably. She didn’t have a care in the world. Apparently she’d wanted out to roam, not to take care of urgent bathroom needs.

  Sunny stroked the kitten’s back.

  A stray hiker from the beach might’ve walked up here. Someone could’ve been in the cypress grove and seen Ryan’s car leave. Perhaps a member of the Bowers family? She’d
seemed to have rubbed every one of them the wrong way, and she hadn’t even been trying.

  Every sense remained alert. She was tense and tight, muscles rigid. When the phone rang, she jumped and squeezed Cat so tightly the kitten squealed and fought to get away.

  That must be Ryan. Did he run out of gas?

  But there was no response when she answered the phone. She listened, spoke again, then heard the receiver at the other end click in her ear. She hung it up and stared at it. What was that about?

  She went back to sit on the bottom stair. Cat didn’t trust her and stayed away. Bev must’ve already closed up, and Ryan had to go to Castleton for the coffee.

  Too bad you remembered you’d forgotten it. Maybe you should give it up. Judging by tonight and its suspicious sounds, coffee might prove to be hazardous to your health.

  When she heard a car she tilted her head, listening intently, then recognized the coupe’s doctored muffler. Breathing easier, she walked to the kitchen to let Ryan in. Cat was waiting at the door and went out as Ryan entered.

  “Bev was closed?” Sunny asked.

  “No, I lucked out. I was their last customer. They locked the door behind me when I left.” He hesitated. “I, er, had a little bit of a problem, however. But it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want you to worry about it.”

  She felt wary. She understood a little bit of psychology herself. If he needed to clarify that it wasn’t her fault, then in some way it probably was. “What happened?”

  “As I was leaving, another car backed into me. I’d backed out first, then saw his car in motion so I gave him room and waited. But he pulled out at a bad angle and a little too fast and he broke my headlight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” But why was that her fault? He drank coffee, too.

  “No big deal. Not much damage, and he accepted responsibility. I’ll only drive in daylight until I get home and can get it fixed.”

  “Did you try to call me?”

  “No.” He frowned. “Sorry, I guess I should have. It took a while exchanging information with that guy. He was pretty nervous.”

  Impatiently she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Someone called but was disconnected. I thought it might’ve been you.”

  He deposited the grocery bag on the table and reached inside it. “At least one thing worked out well. They had banana nut ice cream. I’ll get the spoons if you’ll get the bowls.”

  * * *

  “Have they given you any indication as to when they’ll release your father’s remains?” the reporter asked.

  “No.” Sunny had stepped outside onto the front porch to talk to him. The man was gray-haired and had angular, lined features that lent character to his face. He was on his own and didn’t have a camera. He was older than the redheaded female vulture, and he seemed seasoned. So far it appeared he was after facts, not emotional reactions.

  “Do you have any idea as to why they’re holding it so long?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Despite her monosyllabic responses, his pencil remained poised above the notepad. “Will there be a formal service held for your father?”

  “Private interment and a memorial service.”

  “Where and when?”

  “That hasn’t been determined yet.” What part of the word private did you not understand?

  “Do you foresee any difficulty in working with Deputy Tom Fairly’s replacement?”

  Her surprise must’ve showed because his eyes sharpened. “So you weren’t told. Do you have any idea why he was replaced?”

  “No.”

  Oh, boy, oh boy, wouldn’t you like to know.

  He consulted his notes. “Deputy Timothy Joyce, and he’ll report to Sam Hendricks out of Cullen County’s Sheriff’s Department. Do you know them?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s not too bad. Joyce is okay, and Hendricks will only be in the picture when it’s time to take credit. But Tom should’ve told us.

  He closed his notebook and gave her a studying look. “Anything you care to add?”

  “No,” she said, and noted that he’d caught her involuntary smile, as slight as it must have been.

  He smiled back. He was as sharp as any, but not as callous as some. “You’ve got my card. You ever want to volunteer anything, you give me a call.” He gave her a two-fingered salute in goodbye and walked down the stairs to his waiting sedan.

  “Thanks, uh,” she looked down at his card and then finished, “Dean Ray Trent.” She looked back at him. “That’s quite a handle.”

  He grinned on his way into the car. “Any one of the three will do.”

  She stepped back into the house. Ryan was lounging in Cat’s chair with another cup of coffee. She should’ve told him to get two cans; he lived on the stuff. On the floor next to his feet were two plastic grocery bags filled with something that bulged at odd angles. She gave the bags a puzzled look, but he didn’t comment on them.

  “That’s the second one today,” he said. “And the phone’s been ringing off the hook as well.”

  “Uh-huh. He’s also the nicest one. The only one I ever smiled at, in fact.”

  “Should Jonathan worry?”

  She smiled, then laughed. “No.”

  “He must like oranges.”

  She squinted. “Uh, what?”

  “Jonathan must like oranges.”

  “Oh. Yes, he does. Why?”

  “That’s all you have left.” He indicated the bags at his feet. “I packed the last banana for me—you get an orange—and a couple bottles of water. I made boloney and mustard sandwiches and added two boiled eggs. I even found that bag of potato chip crumbs you’d been hoarding. I put some journals I want to read in the other bag, along with your new paperback.” He got to his feet. “You need a break from the press. Are you ready to go?”

  “The beach again? I didn’t think you were that fond of sitting in the sun.”

  “I’m not. You can carry the bags and I’ll get the fold-up chairs. I want to picnic in that eucalyptus grove, and I want a decent chair to sit in.”

  They walked directly to the clearing with its pretty rectangle of wild flowers, and as long as the sun was shining on Sunny she was comfortable. While she enjoyed the sun, Ryan sat in the shade. The sandwiches were drowning in mustard, but she gave Ryan credit for trying. Cat didn’t mind the mustard, however. The pet wasn’t fussy; if it was people food, she liked it. The animal was acting more and more like she thought she was just another person.

  Sunny finished her orange and poured bottled water on her hands to rinse off the stickiness. Then, replete and relaxed, she leaned back in her chair and let her senses take over. The scent of the orange lingered, mingling with the aromatic eucalyptus leaves. A particularly loud wave crashed in the distance. The sun was just right, not hot. A slight breeze caressed her skin. A nap would be nice, and she wished they’d brought a blanket because she’d never been able to sleep sitting up.

  She stretched. “Ryan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s a crossword puzzle. It’s not a journal.”

  He grinned, but didn’t look up. “Shut up, Sunny. I’m happy.”

  Then, after a short moment, he looked up. “How about you? Are you happy?”

  She knew he wasn’t referring to the day. She smiled slowly, and self-consciously. “Yeah, I guess so. I like Jonathan. But I, well, I’m surprised. I really didn’t think that, uh, I hadn’t expected to ever, well...”

  When she didn’t finish, he did it for her. “Ever find someone you liked who was good to you, and for you, and who liked you back.”

  She nodded, agreeing but not elaborating.

  “You always sold yourself short, Sunny. You’re a very special person, and you’re as good for Jonathan as he is for you.”

  With a slow wag of her head, she moved her gaze away. She wasn’t as relaxed as she’d been a moment ago. The long patch of purple and yellow flowers blew gently in the breeze. Another wave crashed, a big on
e that sounded like thunder.

  “Do you realize how far apart we are?” she said. “And not just in temperament. He has a good relationship with his parents, and—”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Both parents. And he’s never been married. I’ve been through two disastrous relationships, and have—had—a drug problem. You couldn’t find two people less suitable for each other than Jonathan and me.”

  “Oh, yes, I can. You were punishing yourself with the other two men you were involved with, and they punished you as well. Those relationships were the unsuitable ones. Jonathan has nothing whatsoever in common with those two people, and much, very much, in common with you.”

  So that’s the way you see it. But I’m scared, Ryan, and you’re reminding me of just how scared I really am. I almost wish I’d never met him.

  “Stop it, Sunny,” Ryan said quietly, and she looked up, surprised.

  He went on, eyes and voice level. “You’re backing away from him, the relationship, everything. I can see you doing it. In this case, distance is giving you the opportunity to close doors. You’re so afraid of getting hurt again that you’re not giving him and the relationship a chance. Let it grow, doll. Let yourself grow.”

  She held her silence for a long while, looking into space, yet was uncomfortably aware that Ryan’s attention remained on her. He was right, but acknowledging her memories of mistakes, and her fear of getting hurt all over again, didn’t make her feel any better. She’d come a long way in four years, but how far had she actually come?

  Despair was no longer a constant companion, but she was still too often more uncertain than assured, more scared than confident. She felt afraid to hope. Because she had no faith in herself? Or in Jonathan?

  “You didn’t mention,” she said, her voice carrying a pleading note that she was ashamed of but couldn’t quite quell, “that he’s got the same opportunity right now that I do to close doors.”

  “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”

  She didn’t respond. Instead more questions rose in her mind, making her even more uncertain.