Sleeping Mallows: The Water Street Chronicles Book 2

By Tammera L. Cooper

A river overflows with secrets and ghosts of the past… Will it reveal what they seek?

The day the Pearse woman was pulled from the river, Deputy Tim Whitaker knew this was a make or break case.  He worked his whole career cracking the hard ones. Why can’t he catch a break? He should have known it might get complicated wit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tammera Lynn Cooper
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732866133

Tammera L. Cooper

Tammera Cooper grew up on the Rappahannock River in Virginia watching the riverside community change with the times but remaining the same in spirit. The waterside lifestyle is in her blood and influences her writing every day. Her favorite Romance book was To Love a Rogue by Valerie Sherwood. After reading it many times in High School, she headed to University of West Florida to study marine archaeology, final destination, Port Royal Jamaica. After she found out she wasn't that great a swimmer, she changed her major to Art History. And so, she started her career in retail management. In 2014, Tammera was a Retail Store manager, and the writing bug bit. The characters started speaking to her and would not leave her alone until she started to put them on paper. The Water Street Chronicles were born. She has always loved historical romance and she assumed that was what she was writing. Each of the book titles come from code flowers of the Underground Railroad. During a brainstorming exercise with a Harlequin Editor at the Babes on the Beach writers retreat, the contemporary story came to life. She hasn't looked back. Tammera made some changes in her career and personal life to put the words on paper. She now lives in Washington, NC. Writing is her second job. Keeping her readers happy is her main task. She enjoys the research required to write the stories that are woven with the small town's history. She is a member of the Pamlico Writers Group and Women's Fiction Writers Association. The support and education provided by these groups have kept Tammera on the right track to publication.

Book preview

Prologue

Quartering the wind

October 19, 1861, Pamlico Sound NC

---

Abram learned a long time ago silence serves a man well. It kept you out of trouble, and if you listened in the silence, you learned an infinite amount. He steered the workboat against the tide, listening silently. The tide descended quickly, which meant only one thing: the storm over his shoulder gathered strength and would soon arrive.

As Abram stood, he listened for changes in the sounds of the waves and altered the boat’s course as necessary. He was an expert navigator and knew the shoals like the back of his hand, but they were dangerous and changed almost monthly. A storm like this could place debris in his path where nothing had been for centuries. He had rescued many ship captains boasting about their experience, only too loudly to hear the sea. Tonight’s pickup was too important not to miss. His precious cargo did have monetary value, but not to him. This voyage was one of the heart, and he never felt emotion like this for anyone. Selah was waiting for him, and the year it took to get back to her had dragged on like an eternity.

He turned his eyes to the heavens, praying God would see them through this. They picked this date a year ago but had no way to know a hurricane would be barreling down on the Outer Banks. The wind picked up. He didn’t feel like an expert at the moment. Every bone in his body told him to seek shelter, but it would not get him closer to the port of Washington, where she waited. He needed to press on.

The boat gave a sudden jolt and dragged along the bottom. Abram jumped into the shin-deep water and checked the hull. No holes meant nothing solid. Without his weight, the boat traveled easily across the sandbar. He pulled out his spyglass and peered into the distance. He was almost to the turn. The river water would be easier to navigate, but the tide would be working against him. His determination pulsed harder than the tide. His love for Selah inspired his strength.

The setting sun darkened the sky. He’d better make good time across the sound if he was going to meet her at their decided time. Seafoam built on the sandbars, making it easier for him to move past them. Seaspray soaked through his shirt, causing it to cling to his well-sculpted chest. Droplets of salty water stung his skin. His muscles throbbed from the exertion. Thoughts of her pushed him harder across the water, and soon he fought the current to enter the river. The trees on the bank bent and fell to the ground as the wind tore them from the rain-saturated soil. This storm was bad. It already showed its strength, and he knew the worst was still to come.

He found himself alone on the river. It would normally be filled with schooners and other freight ships on their way to the next big port from Washington. But the worsening storm kept all the smart captains in port waiting out the storm. He told himself he would make it in time, but they would not be able to leave until after the storm passed. He knew the backside of the storm would be worse, making the tidal surge deadly. The small boat skimmed the waves, but as utter darkness fell, he tied the boat in the harbor. Soaking wet and exhausted, he slipped through the streets, cutting between the warehouses lining the bulkhead, and turned down Water Street. Staying in the shadows, he headed toward the grand house at the end of the street. His pace quickened when he saw the waves licking the edge of the front porch. He fought against the waist-deep water and rounded the house to find the small shed at the edge of the yard gone and Selah nowhere to be found. He thought maybe she hid in the garden. He jumped the garden gate. Leaning against a big oak, he gave up his silence and yelled her name.

Selah? I’m here, Selah. But there was no answer. Anger filled him. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? No, she wouldn’t. Not after all she had written. She was ready for him. His anger turned to anguish. What happened to her?

He ran to the front door of the house. Not caring what they thought of him, he beat on the door. Open the door, he yelled. Ya know where she is. Open up. Selah?

A branch from the large oak fell in the side yard only to fall on a pile of debris. The wake it caused threw river water onto the porch. He beat on the door again. He spied a lantern through the window come closer to the entrance. Slowly the door opened.

What do you want? You know better than to come to the front door. You should come to the slave entrance in the back. An older black man dressed in a suit stared at Abram with disdain. You should not be out in this storm. Go away.

Regaining his composure, Abram calmed himself then yelled only loud enough to be heard above the wind. I am looking for a young woman who stays here. Selah is her name. I’m worried about her and want to make sure she’s safe.

There is no woman here, slave or free, by that name. Now go away. He closed the door.

Abram stood on the porch, stunned. He knew she stayed here. Why would he lie? The saltiness of his tears diluted the rain on his face. Where was his precious Selah?

With a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, his heart broke into a million pieces.

Chapter 1

Focused speculative

"E very day I remind myself: For us to have a great assignment, Someone else is having the worst day of their life. Closure is the ultimate goal."

Captain Savanna McCormick, cadaver Dog handler

---

October 8, 2014

Deputy Tim Whitaker sat at his desk sorting through the notes of his interview with Beth Pearse. He hadn’t made much progress on the kidnapping case despite the culprit sitting in the county jail. It wasn’t strange she didn’t remember many details, considering her ordeal, but it had been a week since Beth had identified his childhood friend and fellow deputy, Bill, as her kidnapper.

He needed a break in the case to help him find the scene of her confinement. The photos from her house displayed footprints from a large man walking through the house. The dark flooring showcased the print of a hiking boot tread in what forensics determined was finely crushed limestone. They had checked all the fertilizer storage facilities in the county.

Hey, Mae, he yelled through the open room to the woman sitting at the reception desk at the front of the building. She put her hand up in the air and then pointed toward the phone headset at her ear. Okay, okay. He turned back to his notes. He spread a map out on the table behind his desk. Sharpie dots marked spots on the paper. In his mind, he drew a circle. There were so many possibilities. He knew she swam to safety and was rescued in the river, but the scratches and cuts on her legs were similar to those attained in the woods. His finger ran over the swamp on the south bank of the Pamlico. It was a definite possibility.

He turned back to his desk and made a quick note to check the abandoned warehouses in the swamp area on his next patrol. There were no fingerprints other than those of the workers doing the renovation. Her canvas tote had never been recovered. She stated the tote was the reason she had walked back to the house on the night she was abducted. He needed to touch base with Sam since now he was no longer a suspect. Maybe he knew where the tote was. His ink pen made a tapping noise as he hit the desktop next to his notepad.

Ahem. Someone cleared their throat. Ahem.

He looked up, startled as Mae stood, peering over his shoulder.

Oh, hey Mae. Whatcha need?

You needed to ask me something a minute ago. She smiled at him.

Oh, yes. I was going to ask you if you could think of any place they used to store lime. I’ve checked all the stores in town. I’m trying to think of anywhere unusual, maybe deserted.

I’ll think about it. Now, the phone call I was on was about your daddy.

Tim turned in his chair to face her. What about him?

He’s been shooting at the church ladies again. He didn’t hurt anyone, but it’s only a matter of time.

Tim shook his head and massaged his temples with his fingers. I’ll take a ride out there. Why were they on his lane?

They were doing their elderly outreach and dropping off some groceries. Mae put her hand on Tim’s shoulder and rubbed lightly.

Okay. Could you call them and apologize for me? Let them know I will make the deliveries for them if they would like to send things.

I’ll let them know. Also, they said you needed a haircut. She walked back to her seat at the desk, her pantyhose swishing as she made her way.

They did not say that, he protested as he scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair.

Actually, their exact words were, ‘Tell that tall blond hunk of deputy he needs to stop by the salon for a trim.’

Tim groaned as he watched her hop up on her desk chair, grab her pencil, and use it to dial a number.

Okay then. Thanks, Tim mumbled. He made a mental note to grab some groceries and a cheese biscuit from Martha on his way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out to see his old man. He’d have to make better efforts if he wanted to keep the warning shots to a minimum.

Mae spun around and winked at him, her chair continuing around until she faced the front door. He turned back to his computer and hit the spacebar to wake it up so he could check emails before heading out for afternoon patrols.

Chapter 2

Search Baseline

October 10, 2014

The sun slid behind a cloud shifting the office into darkness, matching the sudden change in Savanna’s mood. Closure? Let’s talk about closure. How fair is it I give everyone the closure I can never have? Every time Max gets close to his target I tense up, and my throat starts to tighten. The large German shepherd lying on the floor next to the chair Savanna sat in raised his head when he heard his name. He listened intently to her rant, his head shifting from side to side waiting for some signal. She rose from her seat and started to pace on the oriental carpet in the middle of the room, winding her long red hair in a bun and tucking it out of her way. How can I be part of the best K9 team if I can’t relax and let him work?

Savanna, you need to calm down and focus on why we are here.

And why is that, Doctor? I thought you wanted to talk about closure.

And why does closure make you agitated?

I’m not agitated. I’m pissed. I can’t function right now at work without totally shutting down or compartmentalizing as you call it.

Savanna, shutting down is not the same as taking control and telling your mind you are at work. You don’t have to turn everything off.

Max followed Savanna’s movement as she continued to pace, waiting for a command. How can I get anything done without shutting down? Do you see how he is waiting for my cue? He knows I’m upset. He pulls my energy, and I need him totally relaxed and ready to work. So, yes, I need to shut down.

Okay, we will work on some breathing exercises before you leave today. What do you have on the plate next week?

No active cases at the moment. Although, we are on call if they need us. I am going to chaperone Charlie’s class trip this week.

And how do you feel about that?

I’m worried I’ll screw up. I’m not good at being the ‘stand-in.’ I worry I will ruin his day.

You are there for him, I’m sure it will make the day special for him. Where are you going?

To Washington.

Her therapist’s head rose instantly, and her pen froze on her notepad. And you don’t think it will be a problem?

Charlie will be fine. He wasn’t here when they brought Mom and Dad’s boat in.

What about you?

Savanna felt her eyes on her, watching her. I don’t want to think about it. This trip is for Charlie.

The doctor scribbled something on her pad of paper. Okay. How’s his talking?

He is still very quiet. Occasionally, he speaks up and surprises me. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her little brother and she relaxed. Charlie did not cope well with her parents' disappearance. He’d stopped talking all together at first. She loved him to death, and she wished he was still the bubbly boy she dealt with a year ago. Max laid his head back down on the rug. She sat back down in the big overstuffed chair in the corner beside Max, rubbing his neck again.

"That’s great. Does he still have your Mom’s phone?

Yeah. Having something of hers helps. Plus, he can call me if he needs to.

Is it for you or him?

Savanna looked up. Maybe a little of both.

The therapist smiled. Is he still working with the therapist at school?

Yes. The all-boys school is great. They have a lot of extra support for him. Even though he didn’t want to change schools, it has helped a lot.

Is he excited about the field trip?

It seems that way. I’m worried I’m going to screw up.

And what if you do, the doctor asked.

He won’t like me anymore? Savanna laughed, I know it seems silly, but I want him to want me there for the next trip.

Is that what you are really afraid of?

Yes, Savanna admitted.

It’s a valid concern. Technically you are a new parent, but you are also his sister. You will have to work out a fine balance. If you need to, we can have a session with both of you. Max can still come.

Thanks, Doc.

Now let’s work on those breathing exercises, the doc insisted, not letting her off the hook.

Session 53: Savanna McCormick

Copy to: Department of Child Services

Client attended session with K9.

Client seems distracted and detached from her anxiety, (i.e., staring into space, not listening to counselor, picking at dog’s coat beside her). Reluctant to talk about weekly experience. Listed details but did not elaborate until prompted for further information.

Case this week involved a 20-year-old man found in National Park in a densely-wooded area. Body was in an extreme state of decomposition, likely due to damp, dark environment. Subject was missing for 1 month. Max and Captain McCormick found the male after a 12-hour search. She has admitted to a feeling of jealousy toward the family because of the closure they received after victim’s remains were located. This is likely related to the disappearance of her own parents last year. The subject of closure caused agitation in the client (pacing and raising her voice); definitely a subject needing more exploration in a controlled environment.

Personal this week coming: she is chaperoning her brother on a field trip. She is exhibiting anxiety when talking about the trip. She is exhibiting fear of disappointing her brother. She is adjusting to her new role but still is unsure of where boundaries should be set. A follow-up session was offered to discuss things with her brother.

Weekly sessions should continue until panic attacks and anxiety are under control. Client was instructed to practice breathing techniques and compartmentalization during work.

Chapter 3

Liquefaction

October 13, 2014

---

Water dripped onto the plastic covering his computer. Robert sat with his eyes glued to the screen hoping to catch any movement. He felt in control while he watched the quiet house. She was in her bedroom, but there was no light to offer any shadows. The storm covered the moon. He dragged his hand through his hair, closing his tired eyes for only a moment. His dark hair was starting to gray around the edges, and there was no reason to cover it. Over the last month, he stopped saying only if. His thoughts drifted to the vision of her tied up on the filthy mattress. Beth didn’t look like the same woman he left five years ago, but why would she? She had gone through hell, and it was his fault. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching her, no matter how long it had been. Yes, he had left her, but she had pledged before their friends, family, and God to always be his. Always.

The weatherman predicted the rain would stop, but it still down poured both inside and outside his creek cabin. Resigned to a piece of plastic sheeting over his tech equipment, he growled as rainwater pooled in the plastic. Tonight was bad. Almost as bad as the day she escaped. All the evidence should’ve washed away by now. He should have released her sooner, but he didn’t have the heart to watch her run back to him; the stupid construction worker. How could she fall for him? Hatred coated the back of his throat.

He was brought back to the cabin when a huge wash of water poured into his lap from the suspended plastic above his computer. Shit. He jumped up, pushing the chair across the room. Well, at least the equipment stayed dry. He slung the water onto the floor and headed to the bedroom to change the pants. Khakis had become his staple this summer. His abs flexed as he pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it aside. He went to the closet and pulled out a cotton button-up shirt. His wardrobe had enabled him to fly under the radar all summer. But now they were looking for the stranger in the University of Virginia sweatshirt, so he was stuck in the cabin for the time being. The boat was partially full of water because of the storm, and he would have to wait until things dried out before he headed to the Outer Banks.

There was movement in her bedroom. He could see the monitor through his bedroom doorway. The brunette was standing in the middle of the room talking to open space again. Maybe she hit her head when she escaped from the room, or maybe she was traumatized and crazy. Either way, she was not acting normal. He walked over to the screen and adjusted the plastic so he could see the entire screen. Water ran onto the floor beside the table. He looked closer and saw the contractor in the corner taking off his shoes. Damn it, he couldn’t watch this. Pulling the plastic over the machine, he turned and walked out the door to the porch overlooking the creek.

He loved a good porch. His house in Aspen had one facing the water. He grimaced. It wasn’t his anymore. He knew she sold it last month; the last piece of their past together. Damn this town. Ever since she’d moved here, he could sense it was the beginning of their end. The moon went behind the rain clouds again, and he was left in darkness, listening to the waves beat the shore and the dark thoughts echo in his head. She was his, and it didn’t matter what he needed to do to have her back. The wood creaked as he leaned against the porch railing. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The embers glowed after several tries. He supposed those were wet too. Everything he owned was wet. The smoked danced around his head. He should quit smoking, but as far as everyone was concerned, he was already dead. He laughed out loud. A cigarette now and then was all he hadn’t given up. He lost everything to keep her safe. And a smoke calmed him when his temper simmered.

A shadow crossed the railing beside him, and he spun around but found no one there. His nerves were on edge and making him crazy.

He looked back down at the railing, and the shadow still there. Someone was standing in front of the computers. He took a long drag of his cigarette, slowly blowing out the smoke, and tossed the butt into the river. Thoughts of capture crossed his mind. If they were here and had found him, he would go and end this. He was