Colby Roundup: Colby RoundupColby Agency Companion Guide Page 10

  “He’s five. His father was the man we believe Weeden murdered.”

  He had told her that part, but somehow the fact that she had a nephew had been left out. Or maybe she’d been so caught up in the idea that Clare and Weeden had murdered someone that she’d missed the rest of what Russ said. With all that had happened in the less than twenty-four hours they had known each other it was a miracle they’d stayed on track with any kind of conversation.

  She tapped the screen and opened the folder that contained the photos he’d either taken with his phone or that had been sent to him. The most recent photo was of herself going into the motel where she’d stayed her first night in Livingston. She looked tired. The next was of a little boy with brown hair and big brown eyes. He wore a cowboy hat and was all smiles. The woman who appeared on the screen next had the same blondish-brown hair as Olivia and the same eyes. Lisa—Laney, she amended. Her face was as familiar as Olivia’s own. Her heart thundered as she moved to the next image. Sadie was beautiful. Her hair was more blond than brown and her eyes were green. She’d been so small the last time Olivia had seen her. But her face was familiar, too.

  All these years they had been right here in Texas, only a few hours from Olivia. Anger stirred. Her adoptive parents should have told her. It was wrong that she and her sisters had grown up apart. As strangers.

  Dealing with that hurt would have to wait for another time. She’d called her folks last evening and left a voice mail. She’d purposely chosen a time when she knew they wouldn’t be home to avoid speaking to one or both. She’d told them she was fine and not to worry and that she would call again in a day or two. She hadn’t mentioned the car. For now there was no need. They would worry if they didn’t hear from her in any event. Who was she kidding? They were already worried and part of the reason was her fault. They were aware of her determination to understand the past and to find answers.

  “May I forward these photos to my phone?” It would be nice to have recent photos of her sisters. At some point they would meet and maybe take the first steps toward a relationship. If either of them was interested.

  “Sure.” He sent her a telling look but kept the warning to himself.

  “Don’t worry, they’re not evidence. I won’t share them with anyone else until this is over.” Did he think she was that desperate to prove her case?

  Did she even have a case?

  If she had deciphered her latest dream correctly, her father was a monster. But there was always the possibility that recent events had influenced her subconscious, causing her to lean in that direction. The only thing Olivia understood with complete certainty right now was that she had to know for sure. No speculating. No assuming. She needed the facts. And those facts would be found in one of three places. With Rafe and Clare, who were beyond her reach, and in Granger.

  Someone there had to know something.

  And if Russ was correct in his theory, someone there wanted the past and those facts to stay dead and buried.

  Chapter Eleven

  Granger, 2:20 p.m.

  Where history lives…

  Granger’s town slogan seemed fitting in more ways than one, Russ mused. This was where the Barkers’ history lived, buried under decades of pain and hatred. Reopening those old wounds was not going to be a pleasant task or an easy one.

  He placed his hand on Olivia’s arm and gave her a gentle shake. Her eyes opened, big and a rich brown that was even darker when she was angry or excited. She’d fallen asleep en route. He hadn’t wanted to wake her. She’d needed the rest. But now he had no choice. Rest or no, she wouldn’t be happy if he allowed her to miss anything beyond the Welcome to Granger sign he’d just passed.

  “We’re here.”

  She sat up, the seat belt tightened and she tugged to loosen it. For several seconds she studied the landscape. “Looks even smaller than it did the last time I came.”

  “Small, quiet,” he agreed, “the kind of place where everyone knows each other’s names.”

  “I imagine my name is one they would all like to forget.”

  The town’s population was scarcely two thousand. At one time the area had been the hub of cotton trade with railroads ruling transit. Many of the old historic buildings remained, giving the town a true sense of the Old West.

  “Do you want to start with Barbara Samson?” He remembered reading in one of the interview reports Landers had provided that Samson was one of the only two fairly close friends the Barker family had. Mrs. Samson had a daughter the same age as Olivia. The two girls had played together as kids according to the interview report but Olivia had no recall of the other little girl.

  “Yes, she’s a good starting place.” Olivia dug through her bag until she came up with the folder she’d gotten from the reporter. “Maybe seeing her and photos of her daughter will trigger some of the memories I should have of that time.”

  “What was that address again?” Mrs. Samson still lived at the same address. Her husband had passed away and her daughter lived in Michigan now. If the lady was cooperative she could prove a good source of at least basic information.

  “I’ll enter it into the GPS,” she offered. A few clicks later and they were following the turn-by-turn directions to the Samson home in a small neighborhood on the other side of town, not more than a couple of miles from the old Barker home place.

  The small bungalow was surrounded by a yard cluttered with enough flowers to threaten the ability of the white picket fence to contain it. An old car encircled by last year’s fallen leaves and looking as if it hadn’t been driven since gasoline was under a dollar a gallon sat beneath a shade tree.

  Russ parked in the driveway and shut off the engine. “Do you want me to get the lay of the land first?”

  Olivia surveyed the home for another second or two. “I’m good.” She reached for her door and hopped out. “As long as she doesn’t start throwing rocks.”

  Russ chuckled. “Lucky for us there doesn’t appear to be any handy.” The lady’s flower beds were mostly crowded with plants, no landscaping stones or pebbles in sight. He followed Olivia up the walk, taking it slow and giving her the time she required to absorb the details. The urge to ask if anything looked familiar nudged him but he kept the question to himself. She would tell him when she was ready.

  They climbed the steps and crossed the wide porch. A sign warning that solicitors were unwelcome hung next to the door. Olivia glanced at him one last time before opening the screen door and knocking. The quiet inside suggested no one was home, but no sooner had the assessment formed than the knob turned and the door opened a few inches. He removed his wallet from his hip pocket just in case the woman of the house demanded official ID.

  “You didn’t see the sign?” the woman asked. She looked to be early sixties. Her gray hair was bundled atop her head and pink-rimmed glasses magnified her eyes, making them appear too large for her face.

  “Ma’am, we’re not selling anything. My name is Russell St. James.” He showed her his ID. “I’m investigating a criminal case and I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  The woman looked from him to Olivia. When she would have shifted her attention back to Russ, her gaze swung back to Olivia. “Do I know you?”

  “My name is Olivia Westfield… .” Olivia took a breath. “Barker. Olivia Barker. I lived in Granger as a child. You knew my parents, Clare and Rafe.”

  For two beats the woman stared in disbelief at Olivia then she promptly closed the door.

  Not exactly the reception he’d hoped for. Russ raised his fist to knock but Olivia stopped him.

  “Give me a few minutes,” she urged. “Wait in the car and just…give me a few minutes.”

  He’d have a clear view of her so there was no reason not to do as she asked. If he powered down the windows he could likely hear the conversation. “All right.”

  Olivia waited until Russ had climbed behind the steering wheel before she knocked again. “Mrs. Samson, I know this
is startling but I need your help.” Silence. “Please. I really, really need someone I can talk to.” Olivia knocked again. “Please, Mrs. Samson, there’s no one else. I really need your help.”

  The knob twisted and the door opened a few inches once more. “You and your sisters are supposed to be dead. Like the others. You show up here like a ghost and you expect me to just say come on in?”

  That part was likely more shocking than merely startling to the poor woman. Olivia should have been more diplomatic.

  “Yes, ma’am. I know. It was a shock to me, too. I had no idea that I was Olivia Barker until two weeks ago. My adoptive parents never told me. When I found out I was adopted, I launched a search for my biological parents. Imagine my shock when I discovered I was supposed to be dead.”

  The door opened a little wider. “I heard about your mama’s release. You seen her yet?”

  Olivia shook her head. “Not yet.” She blinked at the burn in her eyes. Her emotions were getting the better of her. “Please, Mrs. Samson, I’ve come all this way and I’m finding nothing but dead ends. Will you please help me?”

  “That your husband? I know you young women don’t always take your man’s name.”

  Funny, but Olivia wasn’t taken aback by the suggestion of a husband. Russ was a nice guy. He would make a good husband for anyone looking for a mate. But Olivia wasn’t in that market. Her personal life was far too screwed up to venture into relationship territory. Not that she’d ever had any luck there, anyway.

  “He’s a friend who’s helping me sort this out.” Olivia glanced at the SUV where he waited. “May we come in and ask you some questions?”

  “As long as he’s not a reporter, I guess it’d be all right.”

  Olivia motioned for Russ to join them. “Have you been harassed by reporters about the case?”

  “Not recently but back then…” She shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “It was awful around here for months. They were like vultures circling a rotting carcass.”

  When Russ was at her side, Olivia followed the woman into her home. She offered refreshments but Olivia declined, as did Russ. Forcing anything past the lump in her throat right now would be impossible.

  When they were settled in her small living room, Mrs. Samson asked, “What do you want to know? I’m not sure I saw or heard anything that will satisfy you but I’ll tell you what I remember.”

  “You lived here when the Barkers moved to town?” Olivia decided to start at the very beginning.

  Mrs. Samson nodded. “They bought that old run-down farm years before you were born. Most folks around here had ’em figured for being a card shy of a full deck, if you know what I mean. It needed a lot of work. But in no time flat they had the old house dolled up and the barn turned into a clinic for animals. Everybody who got to know them liked them both immediately. They were that kind of folks. Kind, generous. We hadn’t had a vet in this area before and it beat driving an hour to visit one in Austin. My old collie got sick and that’s when I first met them. Your daddy had a knack with animals. Your mama was quieter. She mostly lurked in his shadow, but she eventually opened up around me when we ended up expecting at the same time.”

  “Mrs. Samson,” Russ spoke then, “did the Barkers ever mention any relatives coming for a visit? Or did you ever see anyone else who might have been extended family? What we’ve been told so far is that they stayed mostly to themselves.”

  “They didn’t bother with friends if that’s what you mean. Being the only vet for an hour in any direction kept them pretty busy. And then the three of you,” she said to Olivia, “came along. They were always busy. Your mama brought you to church most Sundays, but that’s about it. If they had any relatives they never talked about them and none…ever visited. That I know of.”

  “You said the two of you got to know each other,” Olivia reminded her. Her nerves were jumping with anticipation, particularly at her stumbling over the last part of her answer. She knew something more than she was sharing. Gaining her trust would take more time, which they didn’t have. Olivia would have to go for persuasion and outmaneuvering. It was amazing what people would say when guided in just the right direction.

  “As best anyone knew either of them, I suppose.” The older woman frowned. “Clare seemed happy at first but things changed somehow those last few months before their arrests. They both changed. Became more withdrawn. Sort of antisocial.”

  “Surely,” Olivia ventured, “having known them so long, you had your suspicions as to why they changed.”

  The lady stared at her hands a moment. “It started after…that other blonde showed up.” She clasped and unclasped her hands as if the subject made her nervous. “But I didn’t get the impression she was your mama’s friend or a relative of any sort. Truth is, I only saw her a couple of times and then from a distance.”

  Olivia exchanged a look with Russ, and adrenaline burned through her veins. “What other blonde?”

  “A woman. Looked a lot like Clare, maybe a little older. You might have thought she was Clare if you didn’t pay close attention. I asked her about the woman once but she changed the subject. I mentioned it to the police after Clare and Rafe were arrested but they seemed to think I didn’t know what I was talking about. Guess it was nothing. Considering what the two of them did, anyway.”

  “Ma’am, could the blonde woman have been Clare’s cousin or sister? Maybe an aunt?” Russ ventured. Olivia understood that he was holding back. Putting words in the woman’s mouth wouldn’t help them find the truth.

  “That was what I thought,” Mrs. Samson explained. “Course I never saw the woman up close. The shape of the face was the same. Hair color was the same. About the same height and size as Clare. But Clare wouldn’t talk about it so I figured it was one of those things best left alone.”

  Olivia struggled to control the trembling now rampant in her body. “You thought her presence was wrong somehow is that what you’re saying?”

  Her eyebrows reared up. “What else was I supposed to think? They’d started keeping to themselves as it was. After that woman showed up, I hardly saw Clare at all. There was never time for you and my Josie to play. It was very difficult for my daughter. Then after the news broke, I was thankful I hadn’t let her go over there anymore.”

  “Your daughter visited the Barker home?” Russ asked for clarification.

  Olivia held her breath.

  “She played over there on numerous occasions.” The woman kept her gaze on Russ as she spoke, carefully avoiding eye contact with Olivia. “The last time I took her over there, that’s when I saw that other woman. The place was a mess. Not clean and neat like your mama usually kept it. Smelled bad, too. Like alcohol and cigarette smoke. Josie never went again and your mama never let you girls out of her sight even for a visit with me.” Mrs. Samson shook her head sadly. “My Josie suffered terrible nightmares after we discovered what had been happening over there. She won’t discuss that time in her life to this day.”

  “Did she ever mention seeing or hearing anything that made her feel uncomfortable or frightened?” Russ pressed.

  Olivia was holding her breath again, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of the answer.

  Mrs. Samson cleared her throat. “You understand that I don’t want my daughter involved in whatever is going on with that tragedy. This whole community suffered enough.” She turned to Olivia then. “I truly do sympathize with your need for answers but if you pursue my daughter I will deny everything I’ve just told you.”

  “You have my word,” Olivia assured her. “No one will ever know that any of what we discuss here came from you.”

  “Josie said you showed her the bedroom closet and explained that you and your sisters hid there when the bad things were happening.” She clasped her fidgeting hands in her lap. “You showed her how your mother would pray for the bad things to stop. Your screaming and ranting, when you were mimicking her prayers, scared Josie and she didn’t want to go back for a long time after th
at visit. But Clare took that decision out of our hands when she totally withdrew from everyone and everything.”

  Olivia’s heart thudded so hard against her sternum she felt certain it would burst. “I…” She wet her lips. “I can’t remember anything. I don’t remember Josie.”

  For a moment Mrs. Samson sat very still just staring at Olivia, then she got up and crossed the room. She removed a photo album from a shelf and returned, but this time she sat down on the sofa next to Olivia. When she found the page in the album she was looking for, she reached beneath a photo and pulled out one that was hidden. She handed it to Olivia.

  “I took that the last time the two of you played together. It was just a few months before the arrests. You may keep it. Maybe it’ll help you remember. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. Whatever went on in that house, Rafe and Clare kept their secrets from us all. Made the whole town feel guilty for not knowing what was going on over there.”

  Russ thanked Mrs. Samson as they moved toward the door. Olivia hugged her and thanked her, as well, but the movements and words were by rote. She felt numb, mechanical. Deeply disturbed. The little girl in the photo, Josie, with the fiery red hair, was a total stranger. Olivia had no recall of her whatsoever, yet they stood side by side, arms looped over each other’s shoulders. How could she not remember?

  In the SUV, her fingers felt like ice as she slid the buckle of her seat belt into place. Russ backed out of the driveway and rolled away from the house and the woman Olivia could not remember. They drove through the town that she had no memory of seeing prior to her recent visit with the police here.

  It was all gone. Vanished. Blocked away as if it never happened. But it had happened. Her parents, one or both, had brutally murdered more than a dozen young girls. She and her sisters had been in the house when those tragic events occurred and she recalled nothing but the darkness…the screaming and some vague humming.

  “Take me to the house.” She had driven by it the last time but she hadn’t possessed the nerve to stop, much less get out.