Cold Case at Camden Crossing

Why couldn’t he let it go?

It was over. Years ago.

But now Tawny-Lynn was back.

What if she remembered something while she was in town? What if she remembered him?

His face? That he’d been there?

No, Tawny-Lynn had sustained a head injury that had robbed those memories, wiped them out and given her a clean slate. She couldn’t remember now.

If she did, she’d have to die.

Chapter Four

Chaz studied the bathroom, his anger mounting. Tawny-Lynn hadn’t done anything to earn this kind of abusive treatment. Not certain he believed her earlier statement about the message, he pressed her again. “Why didn’t you call when you found that first message?”

Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I know you and your family hate me.”

“I’m not my family,” Chaz said. “I’m the law, and no one is harassed or threatened on my watch without me taking it seriously.”

Tawny-Lynn averted her eyes as if she didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m going to take samples and look for prints.”

“In here or all through the house?”

He grimaced as he considered the question. “I’ll start in here.”

“With all this dust and clutter, it would probably be a nightmare to do every room.”

She was right. “I’ll check the doors and major surfaces. But it’ll take me a while. Let me grab my kit from the car.”

“Okay. I’ll bring in the rest of the cleaning supplies.”

“I’ll give you a hand. But I’d rather you not clean anything until I look around.”

He followed her down the stairs, noting how fragile and tired she looked. No telling what time she’d gotten up this morning, and then she’d driven for hours and walked into this disaster.

It took them three trips to bring everything inside. Chaz retrieved his kit and decided to check the doors and kitchen first, so Tawny-Lynn could at least clean up the kitchen enough to prepare a meal or make coffee in the morning.

She watched him as he shined a flashlight along the doorway and kitchen counter and took a couple of prints on the back doorknob and screen. There was so much dust on the piles of newspapers and table that he didn’t see any prints. Besides, there would have been no reason for the intruder to touch the empty liquor and beer bottles Boulder had thrown into the heap in the corner

“I’m done in here if you want to start cleaning this room while I’m upstairs.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I could eat anything in this house until it’s fumigated.”

He chuckled. “Your father obviously never threw anything away.”

“Or took out the garbage.” She grabbed a trash bag and began to sort the cans and bottles into one bag for recycling, while he headed to the stairs.

He yanked on gloves and set to work. On the chance that the intruder hadn’t worn gloves and had touched the railing, he examined it, found a print and lifted it. Then he realized it was probably Tawny-Lynn’s and asked for a sample of hers for elimination purposes when he sent the others to the lab.

Upstairs, he scraped off a sample of the blood on the dresser mirror and dusted the gilded frame, but found nothing. Then he moved to the bathroom and checked the sink’s countertop, but if someone had touched it, they’d wiped it clean.

He took a generous sampling of the blood on the wall, hoping to learn something from it. Was it human blood?

He photographed the writing, then took pictures of the message on the mirror, as well. Maybe a handwriting expert could analyze it. And if he had a suspect, he could compare samples. The dot over the i in the world Die had a curly tip. The writing also slanted downward at an angle and looked as if someone had jabbed at the wall out of anger.

He paused in the bedroom, his mind ticking as he wondered how the intruder had known this room was Tawny-Lynn’s. It was certainly not as frilly as Peyton’s, and there were dozens of sports posters on the wall, but no nameplate or picture of Tawny-Lynn to give it away. A plain navy comforter covered the antique iron bed, a teddy bear and rag doll sat on the bookshelf above a sea of mystery books, and CDs were stacked in a CD holder by a scarred pine desk.

Which suggested that the intruder had known the family well enough to know which room belonged to her.

And that he or she might have been in the house before.

* * *

TAWNY-LYNN RAKED trash and old food off the kitchen counter and into the garbage bag. She’d already filled up three bags and was going to need a truck to haul away the junk once she finished with the house.

Exhaustion pulled at her shoulders, a headache pulsing behind her eyes. a result of the accident she assumed. Or maybe it was due to the mounds of dust in the house.

She’d have to stock up on her allergy medication.

Carrying that bag out the back door, her gaze scanned the woods beyond. Was the person who’d left her those vile messages hiding out now, watching her? Hoping she’d flee the town as she had seven years ago?

“I don’t want to be in Camden Crossing any more than you want me here,” she muttered.

“Who are you talking to?”

Tawny-Lynn startled and spun around. Chaz stood in the kitchen doorway, his hand covering the gun at his waist. “Did you see someone out here?”

She shook her head, silently berating herself. “No, I was talking to myself.”

His eyes darkened as he studied her. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”

“I’m just exhausted,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to bed until this kitchen is clean, so you can go home if you’re finished.”

“Actually I came down for a bucket and bleach.”

She frowned. “What for?”

“To clean the blood off your wall and mirror.”

“That’s not necessary, Chaz. You’ve done enough already.” In fact, it felt too good to have him here. Made her feel safe. Secure. Needy.

She couldn’t lean on him or anyone else.

“I’ll do it once I finish with the kitchen.”