Page 602 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Sydney clutched her raincoat and looked out the office window at the pouring rain. It had started as a drizzling mist that turned into a downpour later in the day. In Texas the storm would have blown in and out in a matter of hours, but here the mountains sometimes held the clouds for days.

The day had dragged by. Sydney did her best to concentrate on her work, but her mind kept returning to the journal locked in her secretary. She reached to make sure the key was still attached to its chain. Tonight would be a good night to go home and curl up with a hot cup of chicken noodle soup, but she had another stop to make first—her grandmother’s house. After that she would have the rest of the night to research the safety files. That is, if she could ever get them from Barb.She’d already asked Barb for them several times. Sydney squared her shoulders. Time to bring this little charade to a head. She had a job to do and was tired of tiptoeing around Barb.

She walked up to the front and stood by Barb’s desk. “It doesn’t look like this rain’s going to let up. I think I’ll make a mad dash for the car. By the way, have you had time to retrieve those files?”

Barb raised an eyebrow.

Sydney wished she could read Barb’s thoughts. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know. She was probably hoping that Sydney would get so fed up of the headaches that she would leave the mill with her tail tucked between her legs. What was it going to take for Barb to take her seriously?

“I told you that I’d get to that when I can. Do you think that’s all I have to do?”

Sydney looked Barb square in the eye. “Let’s get one thing straight. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it. You can either get on board with the rest of the team or you can get your purse and keep on walking, right out the door.”

Barb just looked up at Sydney.

“I can promise you one thing. If you don’t have those files on my desk by tomorrow morning, I’m writing a letter to Sean and sending a copy of it to Jake Roberts.”

Sydney didn’t wait for a response. She turned her back on Barb and headed out the door into the rain.

If Sydneyever wondered what type of reception she would get from her grandmother, she didn’t have to wait long for an answer. She knocked once before the door opened, and she found herself being held in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you didn’t wait long to come back. Come inside and take off that wet raincoat. You’ll catch your death.”

“Thank you,” Sydney said, shaking off a shiver. Even though it was July, the rain brought a chill to the humid air.

“Come in the kitchen, and I’ll make us a cup of herbal tea. Do you like herbal tea?”

A smile played around the corners of Sydney’s lips. “It’s my favorite.”

Sydney watched her grandmother move skillfully around the cozy kitchen. Her sage-colored silk blouse and beige linen pants complemented the color of her kitchen. The walls were done in a soft butter hue that gave the hint of gold in certain light. It was the perfect backdrop for the bare maple cabinets. Subtle earth-tone tiles covered the floor and countertops. Glass canisters, filled with rice and assortments of beans, lined the counter top. It reminded Sydney of her dad’s workshop. Sydney’s mom was always kidding her dad about being organized like Stella.

Sydney walked over to the double French doors that led off the kitchen to a bricked patio. She noticed a jasmine vine twining plentifully up the wooden trellis. She watched water pour from the gutters, leaving puddles on the ground. Her gaze moved further. The two oaks were still there, their supple branches swaying back and forth, holding their own against the wind and rain. And then there was the persimmon tree, its branches more brittle and gnarly. Possibly the trees were bigger than she remembered, but she couldn’t tell for sure. She’d played in that very grass. Those trees had been her trees, her domain to explore. It seemed weird to think that this garden had been here the whole time she’d been away. She’d been through so much and it looked untouched, almost as though she’d left it only yesterday.

She tried to picture Avery in the garden. He’d been here in this house. Maybe he’d stood in this very spot.

Stella gently touched her arm. “Here’s your tea. Let’s go to the living room. We have much to talk about.”

Sydney sipped her tea. It was hard to know where to begin. She cleared her throat and looked at Stella’s intelligent green eyes. “Could I ask you a question?”

Stella put her cup of herbal tea on the mahogany table. “Of course. I’ll answer any questions you have, if I can.”

Sydney swallowed hard. Only her shaky hands portrayed the tumultuous emotions that were churning inside. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, demanding to know why her grandmother hadn’t contacted her during all of those years when it would have been so important. “Why didn’t you write to me?”

Rather than answering, Stella rose from the sofa and walked out of the room. A moment later, she returned, carrying a stack of letters. She sat beside Sydney. “These are for you.”

Sydney put down her cup and ran her hand over the stack of unopened letters in her lap, each of them stamped return to sender.

“But why?”

“Judith sent them back.”

Sydney shook her head. “No, there must be some mistake. Why would she do such a thing? How could she?”

Stella sat quietly for a moment and then spoke. “Judith was a complicated woman. I don’t fully understand her reasoning, but I believe she had your best interest at heart. Maybe she was trying to shut out a world of hurt. I think she felt that any communication with me would place you in danger. She was trying to protect you.”

Sydney’s eyes burned. “I know. After Judith died, her lawyer gave me a key to her safety deposit box. Inside I found a letter that Dad had written to her and two newspaper articles. Judith kept them all these years.”

This caught Stella’s attention. “Avery wrote Judith a letter? When?”