Don't Look Back

Don’t Look Back

Margaret Daley

To the other authors who worked with me on this

continuity: Valerie Hansen, Shirlee McCoy,

Carol Steward, Lenora Worth and Marta Perry.

You all are the best!

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Margaret Daley for her contribution to the REUNION REVELATIONS miniseries.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PROLOGUE

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you just couldn’t stop snooping. You forced me to do this.” The intruder approached the figure sprawled on the floor, nudged him, then bent down and felt for a pulse.

With the job finished, the killer scanned the room to make sure nothing was left behind before walking to the door and slipping outside. On the steps he placed a call and said, “It’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Good. We can’t afford for this to get out. We’d be ruined. Did he tell anyone about what he’d discovered?”

For a few seconds the killer fumbled for an answer. “I think I got here in time. I have his computer and recorder.”

“You think you got there in time?”

“I’ll make sure I did.”

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you don’t.” The connection went dead.

ONE

Two months earlier

Cassie Winters spied him across the Event Hall at the Mossy Oak Inn where the dinner and fund-raiser for the library expansion was being held. Her heartbeat increased at the sight of him, just as it had when she’d been in his journalism class ten years ago. But instead of his usual jeans, blazer and tie, he was dressed in a black tuxedo. She’d never seen him in formal attire, but Dr. Jameson King had changed little over time. His dark brown hair still looked tousled, and his tall, muscular build was still on the lean side.

“Cassie, are you listening?” Her friend Jennifer Pappas moved into Cassie’s line of vision. “Have you heard anything about the skeleton they found under the library sidewalk?”

“Who hasn’t? Everyone has been talking about it.” Cassie shivered.

Kate Brooks, another friend, sidled closer and lowered her voice. “I hate to think what happened to the woman. Do you think it was someone who attended Magnolia College?”

“I hope not. But there were some women who didn’t come to the reunion in June, who haven’t been heard from in years.” Suddenly cold, Cassie shuddered and hugged herself. “To think a murder happened ten years ago, not too far from here.” Murder on their quiet campus. The very thought unnerved her.

“To someone we may have known,” Jennifer added in her usual quiet voice.

Cassie scanned the crowd again, hoping to get another glimpse of Jameson King. Quinn Nelson, the assistant basketball coach, and Edgar Ortiz, the assistant director of Admissions, had joined him and Dr. Cornell Rutherford, the head of the English Department. The coach patted Jameson on the back, then laughed at something Dr. Rutherford said.

Cassie started to look away when Jameson turned his head, and her gaze connected with his cobalt-blue eyes. For a few seconds, she experienced all over again the lure those eyes had for her.

He smiled at her. Heat scored her cheeks at being caught staring at him. He said something to Dr. Rutherford, then weaved his way through the crowd toward her.

“Excuse me,” Cassie said to her two friends who were still discussing the recently found skeleton. “I see someone I haven’t had a chance to talk to yet.”

Kate laughed. “I see who’s heading this way. Although you didn’t major in journalism, I do believe he was your favorite teacher.”

“He was a lot of students’ favorite teacher.” Cassie brushed her hair behind her ears, a nervous habit she wished she could break.

“He still is. His classes are always full from what I hear.” Jennifer took a sip of her punch.

Cassie walked toward him before he had a chance to join the three of them. All she needed was an audience when she finally talked to him after all these years. She wondered what else he had been doing besides teaching. Her brother had kept her informed some since Jameson had been Scott’s college adviser, but she’d dared not ask her brother too many questions or she would have never heard the end of it. It was bad enough her friends kidded her about her college crush on her professor.

Jameson stopped in front of her. “Cassie, it’s so good to see you again.”

The other people crowded into the room faded away. Cassie offered a smile, clenching a glass of punch in her hand. “It’s good to see you, too. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your wife’s death last year.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “You knew? It wasn’t common knowledge in Magnolia Falls.”

“As you know, Scott works for the Savannah paper, and he told me.” She remembered her surprise when her younger brother had called her about the news. Although Jameson had always worn a wedding ring, there had never been any evidence of a wife. All the students had speculated about the mysterious woman whom no one had ever seen. Some people had even wondered if a wife had really existed.

“How’s Scott doing? I haven’t talked to him lately.”

Suddenly she wanted to share her good news with someone who would care. She glanced around her, the press of people making a private conversation impossible. “I could use some fresh air. Care to join me for a walk?”

For a brief moment surprise widened his eyes before he said, “Sure.”

Cassie put her glass cup on a nearby table, then led the way toward the entrance. After Jameson opened the door for her, she stepped outside into the warm August evening, but the large live oaks dripping with Spanish moss offered a cool, private canopy over the stone path. She paused near some gardenia bushes. Their sweet, heavy fragrance laced the light breeze.

“Is something wrong with Scott?” Jameson came to her side, his expression etched with worry.

“Oh, no. I didn’t want to say anything inside, but I know you’re aware of Scott’s drinking problem. He has been sober for the past year. We went out to dinner the other night to celebrate his success.”

A smile lit Jameson’s face. “That’s wonderful news.”

“He owes you so much. Getting the job at the newspaper really helped him turn his life around after the accident. He wouldn’t have gotten it if you hadn’t contacted your friend there.”

“Scott landed the job on his own merit. I just gave him a reference. Your brother’s work was, is, excellent, and since he couldn’t play pro ball, what better job for him since he majored in journalism.”

Cassie glimpsed a stone bench nearby. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, let’s walk some. I’ve been sitting at the computer way too much lately.”

“I didn’t realize you held that many office hours.”

He started forward. “I’m working on a novel. I recently sold one.”

“Congratulations.” Cassie fell into step next to him on the path that led to the back of the inn. The sun brushed the tops of a line of pine trees on the west side of the property.

“Thanks. Since my wife’s death, I’ve had more time on my hands, and it was something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Is this your first book?”

Jameson headed toward the small pond behind the inn. “Yes, well, my first work of fiction. I’ve written several academic books over the years.”

“Ah, yes. I remember you discussing one of them in class.”

“That was a long time ago.”

His voice sounded tired and matched a world-weary look in his eyes, prompting Cassie to peer at him as she stopped at the edge of the pond. “Twelve years. I was a sophomore the first time I took one of your classes. I believe that was your first year at the school.”

The blue of his eyes darkened, revealing a hint of vulnerability in his expression. He shifted away from her and stared at the ducks swimming in the water. A subtle tension hummed in the air.

“Dr. King?”

He blinked and focused on her face. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the past. And please call me Jameson. We’re no longer teacher and student.”

Weariness coated each of his words. She had a strong urge to comfort him but didn’t know how. He had always been such a private person.

Determined to interject some lightness into the conversation, Cassie said, “I was surprised you were here this evening. I’ve been back several times for functions at the college, but you’ve always been in hiding.” She would know because she’d always looked for him. “I guess now I know you’ve been madly composing the next American bestseller. Hemingway and Faulkner will have to move over for you.”

He chuckled, the dullness in his gaze vanishing. “Hardly. It’s a murder mystery. I hope a quick, entertaining read, but not a book anyone would proclaim a literary masterpiece. The truth is, I don’t usually come to many events at the college.”

“What made you this time?”

He looked long and deep into her eyes, his head tilted to the side. “You know, I’m not sure. I hadn’t planned on it this morning, but I sold my book and wanted to celebrate. This seemed like as good a place as any.” The corners of his mouth formed a grin. “I’ve seen quite a few former students at this fund-raiser. I have fond memories of your graduating class. Some of my best students were in it.”

Her pulse quickened. His gaze seared straight into her heart. “So our class was better than my brother’s?”

He laughed. “You can’t draw me into a family rivalry. I plead the Fifth.”

His husky laughter wrapped around her, its sound wonderful to hear. She suspected he hadn’t laughed much lately, since his wife’s death. She fixed an impish smile on her face and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Oh, I’d never do that to my baby brother.”

“Yeah, sure. I have an older sister. I know a few things about sibling rivalry.”

That was one of the few personal pieces of information she knew about him. He had always been an enigma, which was what probably drew her to him. She loved to solve puzzles—in fact, did the crossword in the newspaper every morning before starting her day. “Interesting. An older sister. Any other deep, dark secrets you want to share?”

Secrets? Jameson scrambled to keep his countenance neutral. For a brief time he’d forgotten. Cassie had that effect on him.

He turned away, staring at two ducks herding their babies up the slope on the other side of the pond. “Don’t we all have secrets?”

“I’m an open book.” She waggled her finger at him. “And I see what you’re doing. You’re answering a question with a question.”

He forced a grin. “Must be the journalist in me.”

“Have you ever been a reporter?”

“While I was working on my doctorate—years ago. You would have been just a baby at the time,” he said, needing to add the last sentence to remind him of their age difference.

“Yes, that’s right. You’re ancient.” Cassie tapped her chin. “Let’s see. You’re what? Ten? Twelve years older than I am? Definitely ancient.”

He chuckled. “Okay, you’ve made your point. I’m not that much older than you in years.” He left unsaid how much older he felt in experience. There was an innocence about Cassie that she’d retained even after ten years in the real world. He yearned for that and realized he’d never been that way, even as a child.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that settled. The next thing I know they’ll refuse to let me vote.”

“Most women would love to be thought of as younger than they are.”

“I’m not most women.”

That’s so true. He was tempted to discover what she’d been doing for the past ten years. When Scott had been in his class, he’d told him about Cassie working at a high school as a physical education teacher and coaching gymnastics. But that was when she had lived in Savannah. What was she doing back here in Magnolia Falls? The same thing? He started to ask and immediately stamped down his curiosity.

“We’d better go back inside before they send out a search party,” he said, instead of asking all the questions he wanted to know the answers to, questions he had no business asking.

“Dinner should be served shortly. As usual Steff has outdone herself with the preparations.”

Jameson walked beside Cassie toward the door into the inn. “Steff Kessler was the perfect choice to be alumni director.”

At the entrance into the Event Hall Cassie turned toward him when he stopped. “Steff certainly has the connections. I think a third of the buildings at the college are named after someone in her family.” She started into the room, noticed he hadn’t followed and swung back around. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m not staying for dinner.” He allowed his gaze to take in her black silk dress that fell in soft folds around her knees. She looked elegant and beautiful.

“Why not?” Disappointment furrowed her brow.

The urge to smooth the creases from her forehead inundated him, confirming his need to leave. “I’ve played hooky from writing long enough. Good night.” He pivoted and strode away before he could change his mind. Cassie was a delightful, intelligent woman. He didn’t need that complication in his life.

TWO

Two months later

“I come all the way to Magnolia Falls and you’re heading out the door.” Scott blocked Cassie’s way.

Stepping back, she looked up into her little brother’s face and dropped her purse on the table next to the front door. “If you had bothered to call before coming, I would have told you I’m taking a night class at the college.”

“Oh? Are you going for another master’s?” He moved into the foyer, backing her up a few paces.

“No, I’m just taking one of the short courses they offer at the college.” She checked her watch. “Which will start in half an hour. I’d rather not be late.”

“What class?”

“Nothing too exciting.” Cassie waved her hand in dismissal, hoping her brother didn’t pursue the question.

His laughter ruffled her feathers. “I’m a reporter. You can’t be evasive with me.”

She reached around him and snatched up her purse. “Yes, I can. If you want to make yourself at home, go ahead. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Nah. I have to meet someone in a while. I just wanted to say hi. Now that you live in Magnolia Falls, I don’t get to see you as much.”

“Savannah’s only an hour away. You’re welcome anytime. This is your home, too.”

“By the way, where’s Mom?” He peered over her shoulder toward the living room.

“At the neighbors’. She’s finally going out for an evening since she got sick.” Cassie skirted around her younger brother and headed out onto the porch. A nagging sensation made her pause and turn back toward Scott. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

A brief glimpse of sadness and tiny lines creasing his forehead aged him beyond his twenty-five years. “No, it can wait. We’ll talk another time when you’re not hurrying out the door.”

“Are you sure?” She felt suddenly reluctant to leave.

“Yes.” He shooed her away. “Go to your mysterious class.”

While she descended the steps, she heard Scott say behind her, “I intend to find out what you’re taking. There should be no secrets between us.”

She turned and backpedaled toward her car in the driveway. “Who are you meeting?”

“No one of importance to you.”

She grinned. “It looks like we both have our secrets.”

His chuckles followed her to her white Taurus. She refused to look toward him as she slid behind the steering wheel and left. Her brother already knew how interested she was in Dr. Jameson King. She could imagine the ribbing she would receive if Scott knew she was taking a night class taught by his mentor. She would never hear the end of it. But after seeing Jameson at the fund-raiser a few months ago, she had decided it was a sign. Life was too short. He was no longer married, and she was no longer his student—well, his college student. Now that it was October and she was settled into her new job at the local high school, she had some time in the evening.

Fifteen minutes later she parked in a space near the campus building where the class was being taught and hurried toward the Gothic structure. She didn’t want to be late for Jameson’s class on persuasive writing. Seeing him again reminded her how much she’d enjoyed his lectures, especially listening to his deep voice as he expounded on a subject he was passionate about.

Cassie slipped inside the lecture hall on the second floor as Jameson approached the front. Dressed in tan slacks and a black, long-sleeved shirt, he paused by the table and dropped his notepad, then scanned the audience. His gaze fell on her, and a smile gleamed in his eyes. She quickly settled in a desk in the last row and listened as the rich sound of his voice filled the room.

For the next two hours Jameson mesmerized her. Before she knew it, the students around her were standing and gathering their books and papers to leave.

Taking a composing breath, she rose and made her way toward the front. She waited while a few classmates spoke to Jameson. When the last one left, she stepped in front of him, and suddenly everyone else faded from her consciousness except Jameson King.

He removed the wire-rimmed glasses he used for reading and stuck them in a pocket. “What a pleasant surprise to see you taking one of my classes again. Have you decided to come back to college?”

She shook her head. “I just took advantage of the auditing program the college has for the townspeople. I figured I could use some persuasive techniques to get my mentoring program started at the high school.”

“I thought for a moment you might be following in your brother’s footsteps and going into journalism.”

“I’ll leave the reporting to him. He likes to dig for answers, not me.”

“And he’s very good at what he does. I liked his last series of articles about the effects of the high cost of health insurance on the ordinary person.” Jameson collected his notes.

“I thought I was the only one who followed Scott’s career.”

He started for the door. “I read six or seven newspapers a day. The Savannah paper is one of them. I particularly like to read any work by a former student of mine.” He allowed her to go first into the hallway.

“Does everyone still go to the Half Joe for coffee after classes?”

“Yes. Some traditions haven’t changed.”

“Would you care to join me there, then? I haven’t been since I returned to Magnolia Falls, and I spent many days and nights there studying and cramming for exams.”

“Sure. I only planned to go home and grade some essays.”

Outside the English building the warm October night with a hint of honeysuckle in the air enveloped Cassie. A full moon hung in the sky, its brightness obscuring the stars nearby.

Jameson peered toward the parking lot at the side of the building, then toward the road. “Since it’s not far, do you want to walk?”

“That sounds nice.”

“How’s your new job going? Do you like it as much as your old one in Savannah?” Jameson asked as they crossed the street.

“I love it. I’m a counselor at the high school. I really enjoy counseling teenagers. And the girls I work with on the gymnastics team are talented and eager to learn.”

He made an tsking sound. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He looked at her directly as he opened the café’s door for her. “I’ve found if you have passion for what you teach, it’s hard not to convey that to your students. Before you know it, they’re feeling the same way.”

Entering the Half Joe, Cassie scanned the college hangout for an empty chair or couch. She spied her brother sitting off in the corner with two tall men, probably a few years younger than Scott.

“Ah, I see your brother is here. Now, that brings back some memories. We used to come here after class and have some lively conversations.”

A group near her brother rose from a worn brown leather couch. Cassie pointed toward it. “Let’s grab it before someone else does.”

As she wound her way through the maze of chairs and couches, she heard several people call out to Jameson. Her brother glanced up and saw them. Frowning, he returned his attention to the two young men he was talking to. He jotted something on a notepad on the table in front of him.

Strange, Cassie thought, taking in the tension in Scott’s posture, the intensity in his expression. A minute ago she had been tempted to interrupt their conversation, but something warned her that her little brother wouldn’t be too happy with her, as though he was on assignment and nothing should interfere with his interview.

When she sat on the couch, Jameson settled next to her and waved his hand for the waitress. “What would you like?”

“A cup of green tea.”

When the college-age woman stopped on the other side of the table in front of the couch, Jameson gave her their orders.

The waitress’s expression brightened. “Anything else, Dr. King? We have freshly baked white-chocolate-and-macadamia nut cookies. I know how much you like those.”

He patted his flat stomach. “I’m afraid too much. Not tonight.”

“It’s obvious you still frequent this place,” Cassie said when the young woman left.

“I wrote part of my book here.”

“You did? The noise wasn’t distracting?”

“I’m very good at tuning others out when I need to. But I found inspiration watching the different people, especially when I got stuck.”

“When is your book coming out?” Cassie pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Not for another year.”

“Why a murder mystery?”

“When I worked as a reporter, I covered several murder cases from beginning to end, so I drew on my experience.”

“Write about what you know?”

His smile transformed his face, erasing the hint of sadness she often saw lurking in the depths of his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve actually been involved in a murder case. Just as an observer.”

“And now we have our very own murder case at the college.” A tremor snaked down Cassie’s spine when she thought about the unknown woman found in August who was still unidentified.

The waitress placed their orders on the coffee table in front of them, giving Jameson a big grin and a shy once-over before leaving. Cassie wondered if the young woman had taken any of Jameson’s classes. He seemed oblivious to his effect on the female population, but she’d seen the look on the waitress’s face and knew what it meant. When she had been in his class years ago she’d probably had the same silly grin on her face.

He took his mug and sipped his drink. “Even though it’s been nearly two months, everyone is still talking about the murdered woman.”

“People love a good mystery.”

“That’s what I’m hoping with my novel.”

“Thinking of giving up teaching when you become a success?”

“First, most writers don’t make a decent living with their writing, and second, the business is fickle.” He drank a swallow of his coffee. “Now, it’s my turn. Why are you taking my class?”

She’d always been straightforward, and this time she couldn’t be any less than that. “When I saw you at the fund-raiser, I remembered how much I enjoyed your classes, so I signed up when this short course became available. As a teacher I can always use persuasive techniques in dealing with students.”