My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(28)

Tracy tempered her anger with the knowledge that there was nothing Calloway could do to her. It was bluster. Calloway was fishing for information, trying to make her angry enough to slip and say something about what she’d been doing and why.

“I have no intention of chasing ghosts,” she said.

He seemed to study her. “So I can assume you’ll be going back to Seattle?”

“Yeah, I’ll be going back to Seattle.”

“Good.” He gave her a nod, slid back into the Suburban, and shut the door. “Then you have a safe drive home.”

She watched the SUV drive off, the taillights illuminate as Calloway slowed to make the turn, and the car disappear around the corner. “Not ghosts, Roy. Not chasing ghosts. I’m chasing a killer,” she said.



As she made her way up the outdoor stairs another thought struck her, and she fumbled in her purse, retrieving her cell phone and Dan’s business card. She hurried into her room and called his number. Dan answered on the third ring.

“Dan? It’s Tracy.”

“You’re not going to be one of those clients who calls all the time, are you? Because if you are, it’s okay. I was just about to call you.”

“Do you still have my file?”

“Right here on my kitchen table. We spent the afternoon together. Why, what’s wrong?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Roy Calloway’s been following me. He knows I came to talk to you and wanted to know what about.”

“What do you mean he’s been following you?”

“I mean he just accosted me outside my hotel room in Silver Spurs and wanted to know why I went to see you. Has he tried to talk to you?”

“No, but I left the office early. He hasn’t been here. Why are you staying in Silver Spurs?”

“I just didn’t want to stay in Cedar Grove. After the service, it was just too much.”

“No, I mean, why didn’t you go back to Seattle?” When she didn’t immediately answer, Dan said. “You knew I’d call, didn’t you. You knew I’d call about the file.”

“I suspected you might.”

“Where are you staying in Silver Spurs?”

She checked her key ring, the old-fashioned kind that was actually a key and not an activation card. “The Evergreen Inn.”

“Check out. You can stay here. I have an extra room.”

“It’s fine, Dan.”

“It probably is, but I’ve been through the materials you gave me, Tracy. Not in detail, but enough to have a lot of questions.”

She felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. “What kind of questions?”

“I’m going to need to review whatever else you have.”

“I can get it to you.”

“That’s for another time. For tonight, check out of wherever you’re staying and come here. There’s no reason for you to stay in a motel.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his invitation. Was he worried about her because of Calloway, or because of something he’d discovered in her file? Was it just a childhood friend being hospitable, or was there something else motivating him, like the attraction Tracy had felt when Dan had first stepped to her side during Sarah’s service and kissed her cheek? She pulled back the drapes and peeked out the window at the dirt-and-gravel parking lot and to the grove of trees on its far side. The shadows had begun to creep around the trunks.

“Besides, you owe me a dinner,” Dan said.

“Where should I meet you?”

“Do you remember how to get to my parents’ house?”

“Like the back of my hand.”

“Meet me here. I have the best alarm system in town.”





[page]CHAPTER 21





Tracy heard that alarm system going off as she drove up the driveway of what had been Dan O’Leary’s childhood home. She did not recognize the Cape Cod house on the large lot, recalling a one-story yellow clapboard rambler. Set back on a manicured lawn, the house was now two stories tall, with dormer windows, a large front porch, and white Adirondack sitting chairs. The clapboard had been replaced with pale blue shingles and gray trim that had a definite East Coast feel to them.

Dan opened the front door and stepped out into the light of a full moon. Two very big dogs flanked him. They looked like bulldogs on steroids, with stunted black muzzles and short hair that exposed muscular, broad chests. With them sitting at his sides, Dan looked like an Egyptian pharaoh.

Tracy stepped away from the car, shouldering her overnight bag. “Is it safe?”

“It will be, once you’re properly introduced.” Dan looked comfortable in faded jeans with a hole in one knee, a black V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt, and bare feet.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she said, approaching on a stone path in a rich-green lawn that looked and smelled like it had been freshly mowed.

“Just hold out the back of your hand and let them smell you.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“Don’t be a ninny.”

Tracy held out her hand. The smaller of the two dogs stretched his neck and brushed his cold nose across the back of her hand. As he did, Dan said, “This is Sherlock.”