Page 598 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Sean leaned back in his chair and studied her. He threw up his hands. “Okay, go ahead if you think it will help. But Barb will pitch a holy fit when she finds out that she has to go back that many years and pull old folders. I promise you that.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard of a task, considering that it is her job.”

7

“ … THE EYE IS NOT SATISFIED WITH SEEING … “ —ECCLESIASTES 1:8

The eyes watched Sydney get into her jeep and head west in the opposite direction of town.

She pulled into the overgrown driveway of a moderate-sized older home. At first he thought she was lost and looking for a place to turn around. Then he realized she’d turned off the motor and parked. He pulled behind some bushes, took out his binoculars, and waited. He looked down at his watch. Five minutes passed, and she was still sitting in the jeep, staring at the house. He watched her get out and walk up the steps. She knocked on the door. No one answered. Why was she here?

Instead of going back to her vehicle, Sydney walked around on the porch. She stopped at an old rocking chair situated on the far end and paused long enough to caress the back with her hand. He watched through the binoculars as she walked down the steps and across the yard to a huge sycamore tree where a swing was hanging from one of the giant limbs. She took off her shoes and bag and laid them by the swing. A few moments later, her long, blonde hair blew through the wind while she swung higher and higher with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Tears were streaming down her face, glistening in the afternoon sun.

8

“BUT THE STRANGER THAT DWELLETH WITH YOU SHALL BE UNTO YOU AS ONE BORN AMONG YOU.” —LEVITICUS 19:34“

Had it sat in Texas, the moderate-sized stone house with its wide porch and sturdy square columns would have been worth a mint. The large picture windows on the front looked friendly, Sydney decided. She walked up the steps to where a large terracotta pot stuffed with red geraniums rested comfortably beside the front door. At the far end of the porch was a wooden swing held by chains that attached to the ceiling. Its bright, colorful cushion was inviting, like you could snuggle down in it and swing all your problems away. In another time Sydney might’ve done just that. Instead, she pulled her eyes away from the swing and faced the door. The butterflies in her stomach turned to swarming bees when she rang the doorbell. No one answered. She knocked lightly at first and then louder.

The door opened and she stood facing a mature woman whose height matched her own. The woman seemed just as startled to see Sydney.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

Mrs. McClain?”

“Yes.” Sydney smiled thinly and repeated the words she’d rehearsed a thousand times. “Hi, my name is Sydney, and I’mthe safety consultant for The Chamberland Sawmill. I apologize for barging in on you like this. I tried to find your phone number but couldn’t.”

The woman nodded. “It’s unlisted.”

“The reason for my visit today is that your son was a foreman at the sawmill. I’m doing a ten-year history to establish an accident trend. If we can learn from the past, maybe we can prevent the same accidents from reoccurring.” Sydney’s voice trailed off. She knew how lame her words sounded.

“Please, come in and have a seat,” the woman said.

Sydney looked around at the living room. The wide plank wooden floors had been left natural except for a glossy finish coat. The walls were a shade of taupe and looked earthy against the khaki sofa and loveseat. A hemp rug the color of hay covered the span between the living room furniture, and a mahogany antique table rested in the center of it. The table was bare except for a glass vase of cut hydrangeas. White wooden blinds covered the windows, and a green fern rested on a plant stand. A large palm tree that reached the ceiling stood in one corner. The combination of the subtle colors and green plants had a soothing effect on Sydney’s nerves.

She studied Mrs. McClain while trying to determine the best approach she should take. Mrs. McClain was approaching seventy. Her lined face was make-up free. Sydney hadn’t noticed this at first glance. The woman’s green eyes were so vivid that they didn’t need any artificial enhancement. She wore her silver hair in a stylish blunt cut that rounded and bounced on her angular shoulders. Her pleated linen pants were rolled up at the ankles, accentuating white tennis shoes with no socks. Her pale blue T-shirt revealed tanned arms that were dotted with age spots. She was a little on the frail side but definitely didn’t look her age. Her wide smile, revealing lots of teeth, was her best feature.

She was exactly as Sydney had imagined her.

Mrs. McClain cleared her throat, and the spell was broken. Sydney realized with a jolt that while she’d been studying Mrs. McClain, the woman was studying her. She reached up to smooth down her hair.

“I appreciate your letting me barge in on you like this,” Sydney said. She waited for Mrs. McClain to respond. When she didn’t, Sydney continued. “I understand that your son was the foreman at Chamberland Sawmill at one time.”

Mrs. McClain’s eyes looked through her. “Yes, a long time ago.”

“Did he ever talk about his work?”

“No.” Mrs. McClain looked directly at Sydney. “Those last few months before Avery’s death were particularly difficult for him. His wife died with cancer, leaving him with a young daughter to take care of. Avery was distraught over his wife’s death. I think he just went through the motion of living. A part of him died with Susan.”

Sydney’s hands began to shake, and she clenched her pants in an attempt to steady them. “How did your son die?”

“He was killed in a boating accident.”

Sydney’s skin felt hot but her insides were cold—cold and empty as death. She forced the next words out. “What happened to his daughter?”

Tears formed in the older woman’s eyes. She shook her head slowly back and forth. “I was afraid that I’d never see her again.”

Sydney fought back the burning in her own eyes. “Losing those you love is very painful.”