Trace Evidence. Carla Cassidy
He didn’t want to sit with them, but before he could think up any kind of an excuse, the waitress arrived to take his order.
“How’s the case going?” Alyssa asked once the waitress had left the table.
“Which one? I’m working the serial case and, of course Mom’s case and the usual other cases that come in. And now, the vandalism evidence from Tamara’s classroom,” he replied.
“I hope you aren’t taking away time from the other two cases to worry about mine,” Tamara said.
He didn’t want to look at her because he liked looking at her. He couldn’t remember ever being so aware of a woman as he was her. “I try to work every case as if it’s top priority,” he replied and gazed at a picture on the wall just over the top of her head.
“Anything new on your mom?” Alyssa asked.
He turned his focus on her. “Not really.” He had told nobody but the chief of police that he’d discovered the same type of decorative pebbles around where his father had been hit and around where Riley Frazier’s father had been killed. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any helpful thoughts,” he asked pointedly.
Alyssa smiled. “Tamara knows about my visions, and unfortunately no, I haven’t had any more about Aunt Rita other than the one I’ve told you about.”
“You mean the one where you see Mom in her own bedroom.”
Alyssa nodded and her smile no longer lifted the corners of her mouth. “That’s all I’m seeing of Aunt Rita, but I’m having a lot of other disturbing visions.”
“Want to talk about it?” Tamara asked gently.
Alyssa shook her head. “No.” She forced a smile to her face. “We’re here to enjoy lunch, and it isn’t every day that I get to have lunch with one of my cousins and one of my newest friends.”
Their meals arrived at the same time. Clay had ordered a burger and fries, Alyssa had ordered a tuna salad plate and Tamara had ordered a chef salad.
For most of the meal Clay remained silent, listening to the two women visit with each other. He’d grown up with two baby sisters, so having girl talk swirling around him was nothing new.
What was new was the fact that he found Tamara Greystone and everything that fell out of her mouth fascinating.
He knew as a teacher she would be smart, but he hadn’t thought about her having a sense of humor. More than once she brought a smile to his face with something witty she said.
Brains, beauty and humor, she was a total package. A total package of trouble, he reminded himself. She was obviously a Native American woman in tune with the spiritual ties to her heritage.
He was a Native American man who wanted nothing to do with his heritage. Besides, he didn’t have time for any relationship, had always found relationships difficult in the past.
He’d come to the realization a long time ago that he was a man who would in all probability spend his life alone. And he’d made peace with that probability.
He finished eating first. Explaining that he needed to get right back to work, he left the two of them seated at the table. He paid the tab for the three meals, then was almost out the door when he heard Alyssa calling his name.
He turned to see her hurrying toward him, her brow furrowed with worry. “Can I talk to you alone for just a minute?” she asked.
“Sure.” He pulled her over by a coatrack where they would be out of the way of incoming and outgoing diners. “What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Tamara, but last night I had an awful vision concerning her.”
Clay was ambivalent in his feelings concerning Alyssa’s visions. On the one hand, he knew of more than one instance when her visions had helped solve a crime by finding a missing person and saving a life or two. On the other hand, he also knew she sometimes had visions that never came true, never connected to anything and eventually went away.
“What was it about?” he asked.
“Tamara.” Alyssa’s eyes were troubled. “I saw her being chased by a monster and when the monster finally caught her, he…he ripped her heart out.”
Clay put a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “Alyssa, did you hear about the vandalism in Tamara’s classroom before you had the vision?”
She nodded. “Ed Rogers came into the Redbud and had a cup of coffee last night. He told me all about it.”
“Including the claw marks and the blood?” Again she nodded and he squeezed her shoulder gently. “Then, isn’t it possible hearing about that provoked that particular vision?”
“I suppose,” Alyssa admitted after a moment of hesitation. “I just wanted to tell you. I was worried.”
“Try not to worry, Alyssa. The vandalism in Tamara’s classroom might not have even been directed at her specifically. Hers was one of the few unlocked classrooms in the school. It was probably simply a matter of convenience for the perps that her classroom got hit.”
“You think?”
He offered her a tight smile. “Go back and finish enjoying your lunch. No monster is going to get to Tamara. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Thanks, Clay,” Alyssa said.
He watched as she hurried back to the booth, then turned on his heel and headed out of the café, intent on putting Tamara Greystone out of his head.
“Your cousin is quite a handsome man,” Tamara said when Alyssa returned to the table.
“Yeah, he is.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-five,” Alyssa said. She gazed at Tamara with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” Tamara looked at her innocently.
“Tamara, I know both of us are in the same place when it comes to wanting to connect with some man who will mean something in our lives. But trust me, Clay is not the man for you.”
Tamara laughed. “I just asked a simple question,” she protested.
“Well, I’m just warning you, simple question or not, Clay is the worst bet for a relationship in the entire United States. He’s moody and downright surly at times. He’s a loner who is married to his work.”
“Stop! Stop!” Tamara held up her hands and laughed once again. “All I asked was his age.”
“You also said he was handsome.”
“Well, I’d have to be dead not to notice that,” she replied. “Trust me, Alyssa, I’ve heard enough about Clay from his mother to know he’s not the man for me.”
What she didn’t tell her friend was that even knowing Clay wasn’t what she was looking for in a spirit mate, he intrigued her.
There was a dark intensity in his eyes that spoke of pain, a taut energy that whispered of a restless soul, and coupled with his passion for his work, she couldn’t help but find him interesting.
He’d be fascinating to paint with his chiseled, strong, slightly arrogant features, although she usually didn’t paint portraits.
“Hello?”
Alyssa’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said what are your plans for the weekend?”
“Painting,” Tamara replied. “The art gallery in Oklahoma City is giving me a show in September and I want to have at least five more paintings done by then. I’d ask you what you’re going to do for the weekend, but I know your answer already. Work…work…work.”
“I like