Cold Case at Camden Crossing
Rita Herron
People in town believe Tawny-Lynn Boulder is the only reason the Camden Cross case went unsolved. She survived the bus accident which left several dead and two missing, but the severe trauma left her with amnesia.So when she returns to her family’s ranch after seven years, Sheriff Chaz Camden presses her to help locate the girls who were never found.Including his own sister.But someone in town keeps threatening to kill Tawny-Lynn to keep the case closed. Now she must trust the sexy sheriff she once loved for protection and that he'll show this murderer that in Camden, accidents don’t happen… justice does.
Tawny-Lynn leaned into Chaz, her body trembling. Ever since that awful accident, she’d felt alone.
She’d learned to deal with it and to stand on her own, but for just a moment, she allowed herself the comfort of Chaz’s arms.
Tension slowly seeped from her tightly wound muscles. She felt the warmth of his arms encircling her, the soft rise and fall of his chest against her cheek, the whisper of his breath against her ear.
But the safety felt too wonderful for her to fantasize that it would last.
Finally she raised her gaze to his. His eyes darkened with concern and other emotions that made her want to reach up and touch his cheek.
Kiss his lips.
Cold Case
at Camden
Crossing
Rita Herron
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Award-winning author RITA HERRON wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website, www.ritaherron.com.
To Dana for her support and help on this book!
Contents
Prologue (#ua06b106d-714e-5787-afe6-9d2de2943fec)
Chapter One (#u682be819-4848-57c6-a2bf-06fb181b0784)
Chapter Two (#u8ebc9be8-f21b-5fed-896f-6b20816a9315)
Chapter Three (#ucd5fbc70-246c-5a9f-bc72-7b77021dc6bb)
Chapter Four (#u7dae95a1-239d-5054-9810-f36e47d2ca9b)
Chapter Five (#u9ac4ed8f-e558-5a74-b65d-c1e353527265)
Chapter Six (#u51d81c92-34fa-546e-a9d7-c17c9b36b62c)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Sixteen-year-old Tawny-Lynn Boulder gripped the edge of the seat as something slammed into the back of the bus and sent it careening to the right, skimming the guardrail.
Tires squealed, the driver lost control and sparks spewed from the sides as they swerved back and forth. Screams from the other girls on the softball team echoed around her. Glass shattered.
She glanced sideways as she struggled to keep from pitching into the aisle. The ravine loomed only a few feet away.
Her body bounced against the seat as the bus rolled. Her sister, Peyton, cried out as her head hit the roof of the bus. Someone’s shoe sailed over the seat. A gym bag clumped down the aisle.
Peyton’s best friend, Ruth, clawed at her with bloody hands.
Then the bus was sliding, skidding, skating toward the edge of the ravine. Metal screeched and gears ground as they broke through the railing. For a terrifying second, the bus was suspended, teetering on the edge of the cliff.
More screams and blood flying. Then the vehicle crashed over the edge of the embankment, plunging downward into the ravine below.
“Peyton!” Tawny-Lynn cried.
The force threw Peyton over the seat. More glass rained inside as the bus slammed into a boulder.
Her head hit something, her shoulder ramming into the opposite side of the bus. For a moment, she lost consciousness.
Seconds or maybe minutes later, she stirred, her body aching, her leg twisted beneath a gnarled metal seat edge. She searched for Peyton, terrified she was dead.
They’d had a fight earlier. Stupid sister stuff.
She wanted to make up.
Suddenly smoke began to fill the bus. She struggled to free her leg, but she was trapped.
Someone was crying in the back. But the other screams had subsided.
She managed to raise herself and look into the aisle.
God, no... One of the girls wasn’t moving.
And Peyton and Ruth, where were they?
The bus rocked back and forth as if hanging on to a boulder. The smoke grew thicker. Somewhere through the gray haze, she saw flames shooting up toward the night sky.
She coughed and choked, then everything went dark.
Chapter One
Seven years later
“Your daddy is dead.”
Tawny-Lynn gripped the phone with sweaty palms, then sank onto the bench in her garden. The roses that she’d groomed and loved so much suddenly smelled sickly sweet.
“Did you hear me, Tawny-Lynn?”
She nodded numbly, fighting the bitter memories assaulting her, then realized her father’s lawyer Bentley Bannister couldn’t see her, so she muttered a quiet yes.
But the memories crashed back. The bus accident. The fire. The screams. Then half the team was dead.
Somehow she’d survived, although she had no idea how. She’d lost time when she’d blacked out. Couldn’t remember what had happened after the fire broke out.
But when she’d woken up, her sister and her friend Ruth were gone.
She’d been terrified they were dead. But the police had never found their bodies.
They had escaped somehow. Although half of Camden Crossing thought they’d fallen to foul play, that the accident hadn’t been an accident. That a predator had caused the crash, then abducted Peyton and Ruth.
Just like a predator had taken two girls a year before that from a neighboring town.
Bannister cleared his throat, his voice gruff. “He was sick for a while, but I guess you knew that already.”
No, she didn’t. But then again, she wasn’t surprised. His drinking and the two-pack-a-day cigarette habit had to have caught up with him at some point.
“Anyway, I suppose you’ll want to be here to oversee the memorial service.”
“No, go ahead with that,” Tawny-Lynn said. Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to come.
Wouldn’t have wanted her near him.
Like everyone else in town, he’d blamed her. If she’d remembered more, seen what had happened, they might have been able to find Peyton and Ruth.
“Are you sure? He was your father, Tawny-Lynn.”
“My father hated me after Peyton went missing,” Tawny-Lynn said bluntly.
“Sugar, he was upset—”
“Don’t defend him,” she said. “I left Camden Crossing and him behind years ago.” Although the crash and screams had followed her, still haunted her in her dreams.
A tense heartbeat passed. “All right. But the ranch... Well, White Forks is yours now.”
The ranch. God... She bowed her head and inhaled deep breaths. The familiar panic attack was threatening. She had to ward it off.
“You will come back and take care of the ranch, won’t you?”
Take care of it as in live there? No way.
She massaged her temple, a migraine threatening. Just the thought of returning to the town that hated her made her feel ill.
“Tawny-Lynn?”
“Just hang a for-sale sign in the yard.”
His breath wheezed out, reminding her that he was a heavy smoker, too. “About the ranch. Your father let it go the last few years. I don’t think you’ll get anything for it unless you do some upkeep.”
Tawny-Lynn glanced around her small, cozy apartment. It was nestled in Austin, a city big enough to support businesses. A city where no one knew her and where she could get lost in the crowd.
Where no one hated her for the past.
The last thing she wanted to do was have to revisit the house where her life had fallen apart.
But her conversation with her accountant about her new landscape business echoed in her head, and she realized that selling the property could provide the money she needed to make her business a success.
She had to go back and clean up the ranch, then sell it.
Then she’d finally be done with Camden Crossing and the people in it for good.
* * *
SHERIFF CHAZ CAMDEN glanced at the missing-persons report that had just come in over the fax. Another young girl, barely eighteen.
Gone.
Vanished from a town in New Mexico in the middle of the night. A runaway or a kidnapping?
He studied the picture, his gut knotting. She was a brunette like his sister, Ruth, had been. Same innocent smile. Her life ahead of her.
And according to her parents, a happy well-adjusted teenager who planned to attend college. A girl who never came home after her curfew.
They thought someone had kidnapped her just as he’d suspected someone had abducted Ruth and Peyton after that horrendous bus crash.
Not that New Mexico was close enough to Camden Crossing, Texas, that he thought it was the same sicko.
But close enough to remind him of the tragedy that had torn his family apart.
The door to the sheriff’s office burst open, and he frowned as his father walked in. Gerome Camden, a banker and astute businessman, owned half the town and had raised him with an iron fist. The two of them had tangled when he was growing up, but Ruth had been his father’s pet, and it had nearly killed him when she’d disappeared.
“We need to talk,” his dad said without preamble.
Chaz shoved the flier about the missing girl beneath a stack of folders, knowing it would trigger one of his father’s tirades. Although judging from the scowl on his aging face, he was already upset about something.
Chaz leaned back in his chair. “What is it, Dad?”
“Tawny-Lynn Boulder is back in town.”
Chaz stifled a reaction. “Really? I heard she didn’t want a memorial service for her father.”
The gray streaks in his father’s hair glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Who could blame her? Eugene Boulder was a common drunk.”
“Guess that’s how he dealt with Peyton going missing.”
Unlike his father who’d just turned plain mean. Although he’d heard Boulder had been a mean drunk.
“Don’t make excuses for that bastard. If Tawny-Lynn hadn’t faked that amnesia, we might have found Ruth a long time ago.”
Chaz started to point out for the hundredth time that the doctors said the amnesia was real, but his father didn’t give him time.
“Bannister handled the will. The ranch is hers.”
Chaz sighed and tapped his foot under the desk. “That’s no surprise. Tawny-Lynn was his only living relative. It makes sense he’d leave her White Forks.”
His father’s cheeks reddened as he leaned forward on the desk, his anger gaining steam. “You need to make sure she doesn’t stay. This town barely survived that girl years ago. We don’t need her here as a reminder of the worst thing that ever happened in Camden Crossing.”
Chaz had heard enough. He stood slowly, determined to control the anger building inside him. Just because his father was a big shot in Camden Crossing, he refused to let him push him around.
“Dad, I’m the sheriff, not your personal peon.” His father opened his mouth, his hands balling into fists, but Chaz motioned him to hear him out. “My job is to protect the citizens of this town.”
“That’s what I’m saying—”
“No, it’s not. You all ran roughshod over a sixteen-year-old girl who was traumatized and confused. And now you want me to make her leave town?” He slammed his own fist on the desk. “For God’s sake, Tawny-Lynn lost her sister that day. She was suffering, too.”
She’d been injured, although someone had pulled her free from the fire just before the bus had exploded, taking the driver and three other classmates’ lives. The other teammates would have probably died, too, if they’d ridden the bus.
At least they’d speculated that someone had rescued Tawny-Lynn. But no one knew who’d saved her.
And no one else had survived. So how had she escaped?
“She knew more than she was telling,” his father bellowed. “And no one wants her here now.”
An image of a skinny, teenage girl with wheat-colored hair and enormous green eyes taunted him. Tawny-Lynn had lost her mother when she was three, had adored her sister, Peyton, and suffered her father’s abuse.
“You don’t know that she even wants to stay. She probably has a life somewhere else. But if she does decide to live at White Forks, that’s her right.”
“She doesn’t give a flying fig about that property or this town. Else she wouldn’t have run the way she did.”
“She went to college, Dad. Besides, you could hardly blame her for leaving,” Chaz said. “No one here seemed to care about her.”
“You listen to me, Chaz,” his father said as if Chaz were still twelve years old. “I’m not just speaking for myself. I’ve discussed this with the town council.”
Two of the members who’d also lost girls that day served on the council now.
“That ranch is run-down,” his father continued. “Just pay her a visit and tell her to sell it. Hell, I’ll buy the damn property from her just to force her out.”
Chaz couldn’t believe that his father was so bitter. That bitterness had festered inside and turned him into a different man.
And not in a good way.
“You want me to go see her and write her a check myself?”
Chaz gritted his teeth. “No, I’ll talk to her. But—” He gave his father a stern look. “I’m not going to run her off. I’ll just ask her what her plans are. For all we know, she’s here to hang a for-sale sign and you’re in an uproar for nothing.”
His father wiped a bead of perspiration from his neck. “Let me know.” He strode to the door, but paused with one hand on the doorknob. “And remember what I said. If you don’t get rid of her, I will.”
Chaz narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a threat, Dad.”
His father shrugged. “Just thinking about the town.”
He couldn’t believe his father had held on to his anger for so long. “Well, don’t. Leave her alone and let me do my job.”
In fact, he would pay Tawny-Lynn a visit. Not to harass her, but to find out if she’d remembered anything else about the day of the crash.
Something that might help him find out what happened to their sisters.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN SHIVERED as she climbed from her SUV and surveyed White Forks. The ranch consisted of fifty acres, just a small parcel of the original two hundred acres that had been used to breed livestock.
But her father had sold it off to make ends meet long ago, and now the barns and stables were broken down and rotting. The chicken coop had been ripped apart in a storm. The roof needed new shingles, and the grass had withered and died—only tiny patches of green poking through the dry ground.
Spring was fading into summer, the weeds choking the yard and climbing near the front porch. The big white farmhouse that she’d loved as a little girl needed painting, the porch was sagging and the shutters hung askew as if a storm had tried to rip them from the frame of the house.
As though the life had been ripped from it the day Peyton had gone missing.
Maybe before—when her mother had died. Although she hardly remembered her. She was three, Peyton five.
Their father’s depression and drinking had started then and had grown worse over the years.
Somewhere she heard a dog barking, and figured it had to be a stray
A breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, echoing with voices from the past, and sending the tire swing swaying. Images of her and Peyton playing in the swing, laughing and squealing, flashed back. Snippets of other memories followed like a movie trailer—the two of them chasing the mutt they’d called Bitsy. Picking wildflowers and using them for bows in their hair.
Gathering fresh eggs from Barb and Jean, the two chickens they’d named after their favorite elementary school teachers.
Then her teenage years where she and Peyton had grown apart. Peyton and Ruth Camden had been the pretty girls, into boys, when she’d been a knobby-kneed, awkward shy tomboy.
She’d felt left out.
Then the bus crashed, and Peyton and Ruth were both gone. And her father and the entire town blamed her.
Willing away the anguish and guilt clawing at her, Tawny-Lynn started toward the house. But an engine rumbled from the dirt drive leading into the ranch, and she whipped her head around, alarmed as the sheriff’s car rolled in and came to a stop.
Had the town already heard she was back and sent the sheriff to run her off?
They were pulling out all the punches before she even set foot in the house.
The sheriff cut the engine, then opened the door and a long, big body unfolded itself from the driver’s side. Thick dark hair capped a tanned, chiseled face. Broad shoulders stretched tight in the man’s uniform, and he removed sunglasses to reveal dark, piercing eyes beneath the brim of his Stetson.
Eyes that skated over her with a deep frown.
Her heart stuttered when she realized who the man was.
Chaz Camden.
Ruth’s brother and the boy she’d had a crush on seven years ago. The boy whose family had despised her and blamed her for their loss.
The boy who’d visited her in the hospital and tried to push her to remember like everyone else.
* * *
CHAZ HADN’T BEEN to White Forks in years and was shocked at its dilapidated condition.
He was even more stunned at how much Tawny-Lynn had changed.
The wheat-colored hair was still the same, although longer and wavier than he remembered. And those grass-green eyes were just as vivid and haunted.
But the skinny teenager had developed some womanly curves that would make a man’s mouth water.
“Hello, Tawny-Lynn.” Damn, his voice sounded hoarse. Rough with desire. Something he hadn’t felt in way too long.
And something he’d never felt for this girl...er...woman.
She shaded her eyes with her hand. “You’re sheriff now?”
He gave a clipped nod. He hadn’t planned on law enforcement work, but his sister’s disappearance had triggered his interest. He’d wanted to find her, and it seemed the best way.
“So the town sent you to run me off?”
She had no idea how close to the truth she was.
“I just heard you were here. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t pretend that your family and mine were friends, Chaz. I know how the town and the Camdens feel about me.” She gestured to his car. “So you can go back and report that I’m here only to clean up this place so I can put it on the market. I don’t intend to stick around.”
Chaz heard the anger and hurt in her voice and also recognized underlying guilt. God knows, he’d blamed himself enough.
He was Ruth’s big brother. He should have been able to keep her safe.
If only he’d been closer to his sister, known what was going on in her head. Some folks thought she and Peyton had run off together, maybe with boys they’d met somewhere.
But others believed they’d been kidnapped.
Tawny-Lynn turned to her SUV, raised the trunk door and reached for her suitcase. He automatically reached for it himself, and their hands touched. A frisson of something sparked between them, taking him off guard.
She must have felt it, too, because her eyes widened in alarm. “I can handle it, Chaz.”
“Tawny-Lynn,” he said, his voice gruff.
Her shoulders tensed. “What?”
What could he say? “I’m sorry for the way things went down back then.”
Anguish flickered on her face before she masked it. “Everyone was hurting, Chaz. Grieving. In shock.”
The fact that she was making excuses for the way people treated her proved she was compassionate. Still, she’d been wronged, and obviously hadn’t overcome that pain.
“Did you ever remember anything else?” he asked, then immediately regretted pushing her when she dropped the suitcase and grabbed the handle.
“No. If I did, don’t you think I would have told someone?”
That was the question that plagued him. Some speculated that she’d helped Ruth and Peyton run away, while others believed she’d seen the kidnapper and kept quiet out of fear.
Of course, Dr. Riggins said she had amnesia caused from the accident.
So if she had seen the kidnapper, the memory was locked in her head.
* * *
HE PULLED THE file with the photos from the bus crash from his locked desk and flipped through the pictures from the newspaper. The bus driver, fifty-nine-year-old Trevor Jergins, had died instantly when he’d crashed through the front window as the bus had careened over the ridge.
The pictures of the team were there, too. Seventeen-year-old Joan Marx, fifteen-year-old Cassie Truman and sixteen-year-old Aubrey Pullman. All players on the high school softball team.
All girls who died in that crash.
Then there was Ruth and Peyton...
And Tawny-Lynn.
She’d had a concussion and hadn’t remembered anything about the accident seven years ago. Had she remembered something since?
Now that she was back in town, would she expose him for what he’d done?
No...he couldn’t let that happen. If she started to cause trouble, he’d have to get rid of her.
He’d made it this long without anyone knowing. He didn’t intend to go to jail now.
Chapter Two
Tawny-Lynn bounced her suitcase up the rickety porch steps, her pulse clamoring. Good heavens. She’d had a crush on Chaz Camden when she was sixteen, but she thought she’d buried those feelings long ago.
He was even more good-looking now. Those teenage muscles had developed into a powerful masculine body that had thrown her completely off guard.
He looked good in a uniform, too.
Don’t go there. You have to clean this wreck of a place up and get the hell out of town.
The door screeched when she jammed the metal key in the lock and pushed it open. Dust motes rose and swirled in the hazy light streaming in through the windows, which looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a decade.
But the clutter inside was even worse. Newspapers, magazines, mail and bills overflowed the scarred oak coffee table and kitchen table. Her father had always been messy and had liked to collect junk, even to the point of buying grab bags at the salvage store, but his habit had turned into hoarding. Every conceivable space on the counter was loaded down with canned goods, boxes of assorted junk, beer cans, liquor bottles and, of all things, oversize spice containers.
Odd for a man who never cooked.
Junk boxes of nuts and bolts and screws were piled in one corner, dirty clothes had been dumped on the faded-plaid sofa, several pairs of tattered shoes were strewn about and discarded take-out containers lay haphazardly around the kitchen and den.
The sound of mice skittering somewhere in the kitchen sent a shudder through her. If the main area looked like this, she dreaded seeing the other rooms.
The stench of stale beer and liquor mingled with moldy towels and smoke.
Tawny-Lynn heaved a frustrated breath, half tempted to light a match, toss it into the pile and burn the whole place down.
But knowing her luck, she’d end up in prison for arson and the town would throw a party to celebrate her incarceration.
She refused to give them the pleasure.
But she was going to need cleaning supplies. A lot of them. Then she’d handle what repairs she could on her own, but she’d have to hire someone to take care of the major problems.
She left her suitcase in the den while she walked to the master bedroom on the main floor, glanced inside and shook her head. Her father’s room was as messy as the other two rooms. More liquor bottles, papers, clothes, towels that had soured and would need to be thrown away.
Had he lived like this?
He was probably so inebriated that he didn’t care.
Deciding she’d check out the upstairs before she headed into town to pick up supplies, she stepped over a muddy pair of work boots and made it to the stairwell. Cool air drifted through the eaves of the old house as she clenched the bannister. At one time her mother had kept a runner on the wooden steps, but apparently her father had ripped it out so the floors were bare now, scarred and crusted with dirt.
Bracing herself for a blast from the past, she paused at the first bedroom on the right. Peyton’s room. The frilly, once bright pink, ruffled curtains still hung on the windows although they’d faded to a dull shade. But everything else in the room remained untouched. Posters from rock bands, a team banner and photographs of the team and Peyton and Ruth were still thumbtacked on the bulletin board above the white, four-poster bed. The stuffed animals and dolls she’d played with as a child stood like a shrine on the corner bookcase.
Memories of her sister pummeled her, making it difficult to breathe. She could still see the two of them playing dolls on the floor. Peyton braiding her hair in front of the antique mirror, using one of their mother’s fancy pearl combs at the crown to dress up the look.
Peyton slamming the door and shutting her out, when she and Ruth wanted to be alone.
Cleaning this room would be the hardest, but it would have to be done. Although she’d feared the worst had happened to her sister over the years, that she was dead or being held hostage by some crazed maniac rapist, it still seemed wrong to discard her things, almost as if she were erasing Peyton from her life.
Or accepting that she was gone and never coming back.
Dragging herself back to the task at hand, she walked next door to her room. Her breath caught when she looked inside.
Her room had not been preserved, as Peyton’s had.
In fact, someone had tossed the drawers and dresser. And on the mirror, hate words had been written in red.
Blood or lipstick, she wasn’t sure.
But the message was clear just the same.
The girls’ blood is on your head.
* * *
CHAZ COULDN’T ERASE the image of Tawny-Lynn from his mind as he made rounds in the small town. He hadn’t paid much attention to her when she’d tagged after his sister years ago. Had thought she had a crush on him and hadn’t wanted to encourage it.
He’d been in love with Sonya Wilkerson and, that last year when Ruth had been a senior, he’d played baseball for the junior college on a scholarship that he’d planned to use to earn a forestry degree.
Then Ruth and Peyton went missing and he’d decided to pursue law enforcement and get the answers his family wanted.
Only so far he’d failed.
Maybe Tawny-Lynn would remember something now that she was back.
His phone beeped as he parked at Donna’s Diner on the corner of Main Street, and he noticed the high school softball coach, Jim Wake, chatting with Mrs. Calvin. He’d kept up with the local games enough to know her daughter played for the team. The woman looked annoyed, but the coach patted her arm, using the charm he’d always used to soothe meddling, pushy parents. Everyone wanted their kid to get more play time, to be the star of the team.
If he remembered correctly, Tawny-Lynn had been damn good. Much better than her sister, although Peyton had been prettier and more of a flirt. She’d danced through dating the football team one at a time, then when spring rolled around, she’d moved on to the baseball players.
But he’d stayed clear. Peyton was his sister’s best friend. Off-limits.
He parked and went inside, his stomach growling. One day he’d learn to cook, but for now Donna supplied great homemade meals at a decent price, and today’s special was her famous meat loaf. She refused to give anyone the recipe or reveal her secret ingredient.
A late-spring storm was brewing, the skies darkening as the day progressed. Wind tossed dust and leaves across the asphalt, the scent of coffee, barbecue and apple pie greeting him as he entered.
The dinner crowd had already arrived, and he waved to Billy Dean and Leroy in the far corner, then noted that the parents of the three girls who’d died in the crash were sitting in a booth together, deep in conversation.
Mayor Theodore Truman, Cassie’s father, seemed to be leading the discussion. The Marx couple and Aubrey Pullman’s mother listened intently. Sadly, Aubrey’s father had killed himself two years after the accident without even leaving a note. Rumor was that he’d grieved himself to death.
He had to walk past them to reach the only empty booth, and Mayor Truman looked up, saw him and gestured for him to stop.
“Hello, Mayor.” He tipped his hat to Mr. and Mrs. Marx and Judy Pullman in greeting.
“Is it true? Tawny-Lynn Boulder is back?” Mayor Truman asked.
Chaz tensed, hating the way the man said her name as if she’d committed some heinous crime. “She’s here to take care of her father’s estate.”
Mr. Marx stood, his anger palpable as he adjusted his suit jacket. “Your father said he talked to you.”
Chaz hated small-town politics. He hated even more that his father thought he ran the town just because he had money. “Yes, he voiced his concerns.”
“What are you going to do about that woman?” Mayor Truman asked.
Chaz planted both hands on his hips. “Ms. Boulder has every right to be here. You might show a little sympathy toward her. After all, she lost her father and, seven years ago, her sister, too.”
The mayor’s bushy eyebrows rose. He obviously didn’t like to be put in his place. But Chaz was his own man.
He started to leave, but Judy Pullman stood and touched his hand, then leaned toward him, speaking quietly. “Sheriff, does she...remember anything about that day?”
Chaz squeezed her hand, understanding the questions still plaguing her. For God’s sake, they dogged him, too. Like who had caused that freak accident.
Or had it been an accident?
They needed closure, but unfortunately their hopes lay in Tawny-Lynn’s hands. A lot of pressure for her.
“No, ma’am. I know we all want answers, and if she does remember something, trust me, I’ll let everyone know.”
“Is she...here to stay?”
He shook his head, thinking about how lost she looked facing that crumbling farmhouse. There had to be ghosts inside waiting for her.
“She said she’s just going to clean up the ranch and put it on the market.”
Mrs. Pullman stared at him for a long minute, then gave him a pained smile. “I guess I can’t blame her for running.”
Neither could he.
But if others still harbored as much animosity as the mayor and his father, he’d have to keep an eye out for her.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN TUCKED the laundry list of supplies she needed into her purse and drove toward town. The road was lonely and deserted, the countryside filled with small houses interspersed between flat farmland.
A mile from town she passed the trailer park where Patti Mercer, the pitcher on her old team, used to live. Patti had dodged a bullet because of a stomach bug that day. Unlike her sister, Joy, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen and still lived in the trailer where she’d grown up, Patti had earned a softball scholarship and had left Camden Crossing. Tawny-Lynn wondered what she was doing now.
The road curved to the right, and she wove around a deserted tractor. The town square hadn’t changed except they’d refurbished the playground in the park, and the storefronts had been redesigned to resemble an old Western town. The tack shop had expanded, a fabric store had been added near the florist, the library now adjoined city hall and the sheriff’s office had been painted and bore a new sign.
She passed the sheriff’s office and the diner, then saw the general store and decided they’d probably have everything she needed. If not, Hank’s Hardware would. But she wasn’t ready to tackle repairs. She had to start by scraping off the layers of dirt and grime.
She pulled into a parking spot, noting that the diner was crowded. A couple who looked familiar, but one she couldn’t quite place, exited the general store as she entered.
She grabbed a cart, then strolled the aisles, filling it with industrial-size cleaner, Pine-Sol, scrub brushes, dish soap, laundry detergent, dusting spray and polish, glass cleaner, then threw in a new broom and mop along with buckets, sponges and a duster with an extended handle so she could reach the corners.
Thankfully she’d checked her father’s supply shed and had been surprised to find buckets and boxes full of tools of every kind. Apparently tools were another aspect of his hoarding. He could have opened his own hardware business from the shed out back.
A couple with a toddler walked by, the baby babbling as he rode on his father’s back. She frowned, her heart tugging a little. She hadn’t thought about having her own family, hadn’t been able to let any man in her life.
But this guy looked familiar. Maybe he’d been in her class?
She continued past them with her head averted. She didn’t intend to be here long enough to renew friendships or start new ones.
The locals probably wouldn’t welcome her anyway.
She bent to choose some oven cleaner, then added it to the cart, but as she stood, she bumped into a body. She twisted to apologize then looked up to see an older woman with thinning gray hair staring at her.
She frowned, trying to place her.
“Are you Tawny-Lynn Boulder?” the woman asked.
Tawny-Lynn swallowed. “Yes.”
“You probably don’t know me but my name is Evelyn Jergins. My husband drove the bus for the softball team. He died that day in the crash.”
Tawny-Lynn’s heart clenched. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “You— They said you might know what made him wreck.”
The urge to run slammed into Tawny-Lynn. “No.... I’m so sorry, but I still don’t remember much about that day.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Trevor was a good man. I miss him every day.”
“I miss my sister, too,” Tawny-Lynn said.
“I heard about your daddy. That’s too bad.”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged, touched by the woman’s sincerity. “I came back to clean up the ranch and sell it.”
“Then you’re not moving back?”
She shook her head. “No, I live in Austin.”
She arched her brows. “Really? Are you married?”
“No.” God, no. She hadn’t been involved with anyone since her freshmen year in college when she’d found her boyfriend cheating on her. He’d blamed her. Said she wouldn’t really let him in. That she was closed off emotionally.
Maybe she was. The nightmares of the past tormented her at night.
She quickly said goodbye, grabbed her cart and headed to the front. A silver-haired woman with tortoiseshell glasses was working the checkout counter and smiled as Tawny-Lynn unloaded the cart.
“Looks like you got a job ahead of you, hon.”
Tawny-Lynn forced a smile, although she dreaded the backbreaking job. “Yes, I do.”
She didn’t offer more information, and thankfully another customer came up behind her and the woman tallied her items quickly. Tawny-Lynn paid with her debit card and headed outside, but as she loaded the items into her trunk, she sensed someone watching her, and anxiety tightened her shoulders.
When she turned, Cassie Truman’s father was standing behind her. Age lines fanned his face, his hair had streaks of gray, but he still carried himself as if he were superior to everyone else.
“Mr. Truman,” she said, remembering the way he’d banned her from his daughter’s funeral.
“I’m the mayor now.”
So he and Chaz’s father must be buddy-buddy, both in control of the town.
She reached to close the trunk of her SUV. “Excuse me, I need to leave.”
“Are you leaving?” he said.
Anger shot through her at his tone. The Camdens and the parents of the girls who’d died blamed her for not remembering details of that day, but she couldn’t help it.
It was like a black hole had swallowed her memory of that day. She wanted the memories back, wanted to know how she’d escaped the bus with a broken leg and where Ruth and Peyton were.
But no amount of pushing or counseling had helped. She’d even tried hypnosis, but that had failed as well.
“As soon as I put the ranch up for sale,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her tone.
“You still aren’t going to tell us what happened back then?”
Pain, sharp and raw, splintered her. “Believe me, Mayor Truman, if I ever remember, the town will know.”
Battling tears, she brushed past him, jumped in the SUV and backed away.
Her hands were shaking, her heart racing. Damn him. Damn her.
She wanted to remember and put the story to rest.
She slapped the steering wheel and brushed away tears. She had lost her sister that day, too.
Night had set in, the Friday-night diner crowd filing outside to their cars and heading home. She wondered if they still played bingo at the church and had monthly dances at the rec.
Not that she would be attending any. She meant what she’d said. She’d clean up White Forks and get the hell out before the town destroyed her again.
Her SUV hit a pothole, and she braked, then slowed as she drove the country road. Seconds later, lights appeared behind her, and she checked her rearview mirror, anxious as the car sped up and rode her bumper.
Irritated, she braked again, hoping the driver would pass her, but the jerk slowed slightly, then continued to ride her as she left town. The curve caught her off guard, and she skimmed the edge of the road, then the car passed, forcing her toward the ditch.
Sweat beaded on her hands as she clenched the steering wheel and tried to maintain control, but her tires hit another pothole, and the Jeep skidded off the road.
Her body slammed against the steering wheel as the SUV pitched forward, the front bumper ramming into the ditch.
The impact jerked her neck, her head hit the back of the seat and the world went dark.
Chapter Three
Chaz paid his bill at the diner, then checked in with his deputy, Ned Lemone, a young, restless guy who’d taken the job but made it clear he wanted to move to a big city and make detective. Not enough action around Camden Crossing.
At least he didn’t mind the night shift.
“Anything I need to know about?” Chaz asked.
Deputy Lemone shook his head. “A domestic out at the Cooter farm.”
“Wally and Inez at it again?”
His deputy nodded. “She threw a cast-iron skillet at him. Broke his big toe.”
Chaz shook his head. The couple fought like cats and dogs, but refused to separate. He’d been out there a half dozen times himself.
Chaz walked to the door. “Call me if anything comes up.”
Deputy Lemone nodded, and Chaz strode outside, went to his car and drove toward his cabin a couple of miles outside town on a creek, only three miles from White Forks.
And on the opposite side of town from his folks. Maybe he should relocate even farther away from them.
But he’d stayed, hoping being close might lead him to a clue about Ruth’s disappearance.
He wound around the curve on the deserted road, fighting thoughts of Tawny-Lynn when he noticed a battered, blue SUV had nose-dived into the ditch.
Tawny-Lynn’s SUV.
Dammit.
He swerved to the side of the road, threw the cruiser into Park and jogged over to her Jeep. His boots skidded on gravel as he rushed down the incline.
He glanced inside the driver’s side and saw Tawny-Lynn raise her head and look up at him. Blood dotted her forehead, and she seemed dazed and confused.
He pulled the door open. “Tawny-Lynn, are you all right?”
She nodded, then touched her forehead. He did a quick assessment. Her seat belt must have kept her from serious harm, but the Jeep was so old it didn’t have air bags.
“What happened?” Chaz asked as he lifted her chin to examine her for other injuries. The cut was small, and he didn’t think it needed stitches, but she could have a concussion.
“I... A car came up behind me,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I slowed to let him go past but he kept riding my bumper. And when he passed me, he was so close I ran off the road.”
“Did the driver stop?”
She shook her head. “No, he raced on by. He seemed like he was in real hurry.”
“Did you see who was driving?”
“No.”
“But you said ‘he.’ You’re sure it was a man?”
She dropped her hands to her lap. “No. The car had tinted windows.”
“What kind of car was it?”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know, Chaz. It was dark and the lights nearly blinded me.” She reached for her keys. “Do you think you can help me get out of here?”
“Sure. But I’m going to call a medic to check you out. You might have a concussion.”
“I’m fine,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I just want to go back to the ranch.”
He grabbed the keys from her. “You’re not driving until you’re examined by a professional.”
She glared at him. “Chaz, please—”
“It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive when you might have a head injury.” He grabbed his phone from his belt and made the call.
“Racine, there was an accident on White Forks Road. Send the medics out here now.” A pause. “Yeah, thanks.” He disconnected then punched the number for Henry’s Auto Repair. “Henry, can you send a tow truck out to White Forks Road? A car accident, Jeep in a ditch that needs pulling out.”
“Sure. I’m on my way,” Henry said.
Chaz disconnected, his chest tightening as he glanced down at Tawny-Lynn. Her face looked pale in the moonlight, and she was rubbing her chest as if she might have cracked a rib.
He didn’t like the fact that she’d had an accident the very day she’d come to town. Or the fact that the driver had left her in the ditch.
Had it been an accident or had someone intentionally run her off the road?
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN STRUGGLED to remember details about the car. The driver was probably some joyriding teenager, or maybe a drunk driver.
But the message on her mirror at home taunted her.
Someone didn’t want her here. Actually a lot of people didn’t want her here. Had one of them run her into that ditch to get rid of her?
She unfastened her seat belt and started to climb from the car, but Chaz took her arm and helped her out. For a moment she was dizzy, but he steadied her and the world righted itself.
“You are hurt,” he said in a gruff voice.
“I’ve been through worse,” she said, then immediately regretted her comment when his gaze locked with hers. They both knew she’d barely survived that crash. Although no one knew how she’d escaped the burning vehicle.
Chaz started to say something, but the sound of a siren wailing rent the air, and red lights twirled in the night sky as the ambulance approached. A second later, the tow truck rolled in on its heels, and Tawny-Lynn had to succumb to an exam by the paramedics.
Meanwhile, Chaz spoke with Henry, the fiftysomething owner of the auto repair shop, and supervised as the man towed her Jeep from the ditch.
“Your blood pressure’s a little high, miss,” the blond medic said.
“Wouldn’t you think that’s normal after an accident?” she said wryly.
He nodded, then listened to her heart while the other medic cleaned her forehead and applied a small butterfly bandage.
“Heart sounds okay,” the medic said. He used a penlight and examined her eyes, instructing her to follow the light.
“I’m really fine,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I was wearing my seat belt so I didn’t hit the windshield.”
“How about the steering wheel?”
She nodded. “My chest did, but nothing is broken.” She had suffered broken ribs in the bus accident and knew that kind of breath-robbing pain.
“We should take you in for X-rays.”
Tawny-Lynn shook her head. “No need. I told you, I’m fine.”
The medics exchanged looks as Chaz approached. “If you won’t go in, you need to sign a waiver, miss.”
“Then let me sign it. I just want to go home.” Not that she considered White Forks home anymore. But she didn’t like people hovering over her.
She’d had too much of that after the bus wreck. Of course, the hovering had been people demanding that she remember, pressuring her, wanting answers that she couldn’t give.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital for observation,” Chaz suggested.
She’d been taking care of herself far too long to welcome attention, especially from Chaz Camden.
“I don’t need a hospital,” she said. “It was just a little accident.”
The medic handed her a form attached to a clipboard, and she gave them her autograph.
They packed up and left just as Henry finished dragging her SUV from the ditch. The thing was old and beat up, so a bent fender with a little body damage didn’t faze her. Not as long as the car would run.
“You shouldn’t drive it until I check it out,” Henry said. “Front end probably needs realignment. And that back tire is as bald as a baby’s butt.”
“How long will it take to replace the tire and check the alignment?”
“Day or two. I can call you when I’m done.”
Tawny-Lynn hedged. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she also didn’t want to get stranded on her way back to Austin. And her father’s old pickup was at the ranch, so she’d have transportation. “All right.”
“I’ll give you a lift home,” Chaz offered.
She didn’t want to be in the same car with Chaz—to share the same air—because he smelled too good, too darn masculine.
Sexy.
And whether or not she wanted to admit it, she was shaken by the accident and would love to lean on him.
But she couldn’t allow herself to do that.
She grabbed her purse from the Jeep, then removed one of her business cards with her phone number on it. “Call me when you have it ready.”
By the time she finished talking to Henry, Chaz had unloaded her supplies and stowed them in the trunk of his squad car.
Henry waved to her, then jumped in the tow truck and chugged away, pulling her Jeep behind him, the clank of metal echoing as he disappeared from sight.
“He’ll give you a fair price,” Chaz said as if he sensed her concerns about money.
She didn’t comment. Instead she walked around to the passenger side of his car and climbed in. The world was spinning again, the seconds before she’d slammed into the ditch taking her back seven years.
She massaged her temple, but the sound of screams and crying reverberated in her head.
“Tawny-Lynn,” Chaz said softly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He closed his hand over hers, and her fingers tingled with awareness, unsettling her even more. She desperately wanted to hold on to him. To have someone assure her that things would be all right.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
* * *
BUT NOTHING WAS all right. She was all alone. Everyone in Camden Crossing hated her, and the only way to fix that was to remember what had happened that day.
Chaz gave her a sympathetic look, then started the car and drove to White Forks. The woods backing up to the ranch seemed darker and more ominous tonight. Chaz maneuvered the dirt drive, avoiding the worst potholes, then parked in front of the house.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard an animal rustling in dry leaves as she climbed out. Then the howl of a coyote as if it was close by.
Chaz opened the trunk and lifted one of the boxes, and she grabbed two bags of supplies and led the way up the steps. But when she touched the doorknob to unlock the door, it swung open.
Chaz immediately pressed a hand across her chest to stop her from entering. “Did you lock it when you left?”
She nodded, remembering the bloody message on her mirror.
Was someone inside now?
* * *
CHAZ’S INSTINCTS SNAPPED to full alert. He set the box on the porch, removed his weapon and scanned the front of the property. He hadn’t seen anyone pulling up, and there were no cars in sight.
Still, the door was unlocked, and on the heels of Tawny-Lynn’s so-called accident, that raised his suspicions.
“Chaz?”
He pressed a finger to his lips to shush her, then motioned for her to stay behind him. He inched inside, looking left then right, shocked at the stacks of papers and junk filling every nook and cranny of the living room and kitchen.
The stench of stale beer and liquor mingled with mold, and gave him an understanding of the mammoth amount of trash bags and cleaning supplies Tawny-Lynn had bought.
It had been years since he’d been in the house and tried to remember the layout. The master bedroom was on the main floor, the girls’ rooms upstairs.
The floor creaked as Tawny-Lynn followed behind him, and he veered to the left into the master suite. It was just as nasty and cluttered as the front rooms.
But no one was inside.
“I don’t hear anything,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
Neither did he, but a predator could be hiding in a closet or upstairs, ready to attack. He slowly closed his hand around the bedroom closet doorknob and yanked it open, his gun raised. It was empty except for the stacks of old shoes, hats and clothing.
“Stay here while I check the upstairs.”
“No, I’m going with you,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He gave her a sharp look, then decided maybe it was best if she did follow him, in case the intruder was hiding in the storage shed outside. He didn’t want to leave her alone.
They crossed back through the room, then he tiptoed up the steps, but the wooden boards creaked beneath his weight. The first room was Peyton’s, still decorated like it had been years ago. For a moment, grief hit him as an image of Ruth sitting cross-legged on Peyton’s bed flashed in front of his eyes.
Heaving a breath to refocus, he yanked open the closet door, but all he found were Peyton’s clothes. Jeans and T-shirts, a prom dress.
The softball cleats gave him another pain in his chest. No wonder the parents of the three girls who’d died couldn’t forget.
No one should have to bury a child.
He kept his gun poised as he pivoted, Tawny-Lynn’s choppy breathing echoing behind him as he entered the hall and inched to her room.
He paused at the doorway, anger bolting through him at the sight of the mirror.
“What the hell?”
“That was there when I first arrived,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He swung around to her. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I had no idea how long it had been there.”
Chaz cursed, then strode forward to examine it. He studied the writing, then took a sniff. “Looks like blood but it’s dry, so no smell. I’ll take samples and send to the crime lab.”
Tawny-Lynn nodded, then he stepped inside the bathroom and cursed again. “Was this here, too?”
Her eyes widened in shock as she entered. Then she shook her head in denial.
Chaz was disgusted at the sight.
The walls were covered in more blood. Fresh blood.
Whoever had broken in had written another message on the walls.
We don’t want you here.
Leave or die.
* * *
THE SHERIFF WAS inside Boulder’s house with the girl. Dammit to hell and back.
Chaz asked too many questions. He just wouldn’t give up investigating his sister’s disappearance and the bus wreck that had taken those girls’ lives.
Why couldn’t he let it go?
It was over. Years ago.
But now Tawny-Lynn was back.
What if she remembered something while she was in town? What if she remembered him?
His face? That he’d been there?
No, Tawny-Lynn had sustained a head injury that had robbed those memories, wiped them out and given her a clean slate. She couldn’t remember now.
If she did, she’d have to die.
Chapter Four
Chaz studied the bathroom, his anger mounting. Tawny-Lynn hadn’t done anything to earn this kind of abusive treatment. Not certain he believed her earlier statement about the message, he pressed her again. “Why didn’t you call when you found that first message?”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I know you and your family hate me.”
“I’m not my family,” Chaz said. “I’m the law, and no one is harassed or threatened on my watch without me taking it seriously.”
Tawny-Lynn averted her eyes as if she didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m going to take samples and look for prints.”
“In here or all through the house?”
He grimaced as he considered the question. “I’ll start in here.”
“With all this dust and clutter, it would probably be a nightmare to do every room.”
She was right. “I’ll check the doors and major surfaces. But it’ll take me a while. Let me grab my kit from the car.”
“Okay. I’ll bring in the rest of the cleaning supplies.”
“I’ll give you a hand. But I’d rather you not clean anything until I look around.”
He followed her down the stairs, noting how fragile and tired she looked. No telling what time she’d gotten up this morning, and then she’d driven for hours and walked into this disaster.
It took them three trips to bring everything inside. Chaz retrieved his kit and decided to check the doors and kitchen first, so Tawny-Lynn could at least clean up the kitchen enough to prepare a meal or make coffee in the morning.
She watched him as he shined a flashlight along the doorway and kitchen counter and took a couple of prints on the back doorknob and screen. There was so much dust on the piles of newspapers and table that he didn’t see any prints. Besides, there would have been no reason for the intruder to touch the empty liquor and beer bottles Boulder had thrown into the heap in the corner
“I’m done in here if you want to start cleaning this room while I’m upstairs.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I could eat anything in this house until it’s fumigated.”
He chuckled. “Your father obviously never threw anything away.”
“Or took out the garbage.” She grabbed a trash bag and began to sort the cans and bottles into one bag for recycling, while he headed to the stairs.
He yanked on gloves and set to work. On the chance that the intruder hadn’t worn gloves and had touched the railing, he examined it, found a print and lifted it. Then he realized it was probably Tawny-Lynn’s and asked for a sample of hers for elimination purposes when he sent the others to the lab.
Upstairs, he scraped off a sample of the blood on the dresser mirror and dusted the gilded frame, but found nothing. Then he moved to the bathroom and checked the sink’s countertop, but if someone had touched it, they’d wiped it clean.
He took a generous sampling of the blood on the wall, hoping to learn something from it. Was it human blood?
He photographed the writing, then took pictures of the message on the mirror, as well. Maybe a handwriting expert could analyze it. And if he had a suspect, he could compare samples. The dot over the i in the world Die had a curly tip. The writing also slanted downward at an angle and looked as if someone had jabbed at the wall out of anger.
He paused in the bedroom, his mind ticking as he wondered how the intruder had known this room was Tawny-Lynn’s. It was certainly not as frilly as Peyton’s, and there were dozens of sports posters on the wall, but no nameplate or picture of Tawny-Lynn to give it away. A plain navy comforter covered the antique iron bed, a teddy bear and rag doll sat on the bookshelf above a sea of mystery books, and CDs were stacked in a CD holder by a scarred pine desk.
Which suggested that the intruder had known the family well enough to know which room belonged to her.
And that he or she might have been in the house before.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN RAKED trash and old food off the kitchen counter and into the garbage bag. She’d already filled up three bags and was going to need a truck to haul away the junk once she finished with the house.
Exhaustion pulled at her shoulders, a headache pulsing behind her eyes. a result of the accident she assumed. Or maybe it was due to the mounds of dust in the house.
She’d have to stock up on her allergy medication.
Carrying that bag out the back door, her gaze scanned the woods beyond. Was the person who’d left her those vile messages hiding out now, watching her? Hoping she’d flee the town as she had seven years ago?
“I don’t want to be in Camden Crossing any more than you want me here,” she muttered.
“Who are you talking to?”
Tawny-Lynn startled and spun around. Chaz stood in the kitchen doorway, his hand covering the gun at his waist. “Did you see someone out here?”
She shook her head, silently berating herself. “No, I was talking to myself.”
His eyes darkened as he studied her. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”
“I’m just exhausted,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to bed until this kitchen is clean, so you can go home if you’re finished.”
“Actually I came down for a bucket and bleach.”
She frowned. “What for?”
“To clean the blood off your wall and mirror.”
“That’s not necessary, Chaz. You’ve done enough already.” In fact, it felt too good to have him here. Made her feel safe. Secure. Needy.
She couldn’t lean on him or anyone else.
“I’ll do it once I finish with the kitchen.”
“No way,” he said gruffly. “I don’t intend to leave you here with that disgusting threat in your room, especially after you were in an accident.”
God, his voice sounded almost protective. Odd, when years ago he’d hated her just like everyone else.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He rummaged through the boxes of supplies, grabbed a bucket, a container of bleach and a sponge and strode back toward the stairs.
Tawny-Lynn sighed shakily and rushed back inside, but the wind whistling through the trees unnerved her and she slammed the door. Maybe it was better if Chaz was here, acting as the sheriff, of course, just in case the intruder had stuck around.
Her adrenaline kicked in, and she finished scraping off the counters, chairs, table and floors of junk, carefully stowing any unpaid bills she located, and there were dozens, into a basket on the counter. Next, she tackled the refrigerator, not surprised to find it virtually empty except for condiments that had expired, something moldy growing in a jar, a jug of sour milk and a carton of outdated eggs.
Next she tossed a rusted can opener, a toaster that was so crusted with grime that she doubted she could ever clean it, then dish towels that were mildewed.
When she finished with that, she pulled out the bleach and industrial cleaner and scoured the sink, counter and the inside and outside of the refrigerator. The counters were worn, but after several layers of crud had been removed they were passable. Other things might need to be replaced.
That is, unless she just decided to sell the ranch as it was. Maybe that was best. She didn’t have money to invest in the house. The property held the real value. Whoever bought the ranch could tear down the house and build a new one or remodel this one the way they chose.
By the time she finished and mopped the floor, her body was aching for sleep. Footsteps sounded, and Chaz appeared, his big body filling the doorway.
She was filthy, sweaty and covered in dirt, while he looked so handsome and strong that he stole the breath from her.
“You look like you’re about to fall over,” he said.
Tawny-Lynn leaned against the counter. At least it smelled better in this room. “It’s been a long day. A good night’s sleep will work wonders.” Although truthfully, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in nearly a decade.
The nightmares dogged her every time she closed her eyes.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN SWAYED, and Chaz caught her by the arm. “Exhausted? You’re dizzy.”
“It’s just the cleaning fumes,” she said, her voice strained. “I have allergies.”
He nodded, unconvinced. “I’m going to send Jimmy James out here tomorrow to install new locks on the house. Dead bolts, too.”
“I can take care of it,” Tawny-Lynn said.
“Don’t argue.” Chaz gestured toward the mess in the living room. “You have your hands full already.”
She rubbed her forehead, then looked up at him warily. “Why are you helping me, Chaz? I thought you hated me just like your folks and the rest of the town.”
Chaz’s chest tightened at her directness. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t hate her, that he regretted the way he’d treated her after Ruth had disappeared, that he’d shouldered his own share of guilt and had been desperate for answers to satisfy his father.
But there was no way he could get personal with her. Revealing the truth would make him vulnerable. And he had to focus.
One day he would find his sister. That was all that mattered.
So he kept the conversation on a professional level. “I’m the sheriff, I’m just doing my job.”
Something akin to disappointment flared in her big green eyes. “Of course. Well, thanks for the ride home and for cleaning the walls.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you know if I find a hit on any of the prints or the blood samples.”
Tawny-Lynn led him to the front door, but he hung there, hesitant to leave. She looked so small and fragile. Vulnerable.
She’d been here less than twenty-four hours and already had an accident, which could have been intentional, and an intruder in her house who’d left vile threats against her.
Tawny-Lynn held the door edge, and offered him a brave smile. “Well, even if you are just doing your job, I appreciate it, Chaz. I know how the locals feel about me. I...just wish I could give them what they want.”
He narrowed his eyes, pained at the sorrow in her tone. “You suffered, too. You lost your sister. People should have been more sensitive to that.”
She shrugged, but the effort didn’t meet her eyes.
He had the sudden impulse to reach up and pull her against him. To hold her and assure her that everything would be all right. That she’d done all she could, just as he had.
But touching her would be wrong. Would make it more difficult to keep his distance and do his job.
And his job was to keep her safe and to find the person who’d threatened her.
So he handed her his business card, told her to call him if she needed anything, then headed to his car, determined to ignore the pull of attraction between them.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN WATCHED Chaz leave with mixed feelings. As long as he’d been in the house, she could chase away the monsters.
But when she was left alone in the house, the ghosts seeped from the walls to haunt her.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. The familiar panic attacks she’d suffered after the bus accident threatened. Willing herself to be strong, she closed her eyes and took slow, even breaths.
It had been seven years. She was alive. She was safe.
Or was she?
Judging from the bloody message on her mirror and walls, someone didn’t want her here.
A shudder coursed up her body and she locked the door, then shoved a chair in front of it. The chair wouldn’t keep an intruder out, but at least if it fell over, it might wake her.
If she ever managed to fall asleep.
Dusty and grimy from the work she’d done and achy from the earlier nosedive into the ditch, she forced herself to leave the chaotic mess waiting in the living room, grabbed a bottle of cleaner for the shower and climbed the stairs. She’d tackle the den tomorrow.
Chaz had erased the message from the mirror, but the ugly words still taunted her. She stripped the sheets, found clean ones in the closet and put them on the bed. Then she retrieved her toiletry bag and walked into the bathroom.
The walls smelled of bleach, but the shower looked grungy, so she scrubbed it, then the toilet and sink. Then she turned on the water, stripped and climbed in the shower. The hot water felt heavenly on her aching muscles, and she soaped and washed her body and hair, then rinsed off. She wrapped a towel around her damp hair, then stepped from the shower and brushed her teeth twice to get rid of the dust in her mouth.
She towel dried her hair, slipped on a pair of pajamas, took a sleeping pill and fell into bed. Seconds later, she closed her eyes and drifted off.
But even as she faded into sleep, images of the bloody message flashed back.
If she didn’t leave town, would the intruder come back and kill her?
Chapter Five
Chaz hesitated before driving away from White Forks, but he couldn’t stay with Tawny-Lynn around the clock.
Could he?
If the threats continued, he’d have to.
He carried the blood samples and prints he’d collected to the sheriff’s office. His deputy was on the phone when he walked in.
Judging from the goofy grin on his face, he was talking to his girlfriend, Sheila.
He looked up at Chaz and dropped his feet from the desk. “Listen, honey, I’ve gotta go. Call you later.”
He hung up, then quirked his brows at Chaz. “I didn’t expect you back tonight.”
“There was some trouble out at White Forks.”
“You mean that place where the Boulder broad lives?”
“She hasn’t lived there in years, but yes, that’s the one. She came back to town to get her old man’s ranch ready to sell.”
“I heard folks around here don’t much like her.”
Chaz scowled at his deputy. “Who’ve you been listening to, Ned?”
“No one in particular. Some old women were gossiping about her in the diner. Said if she’d spoken up about what happened that day, they might have tracked down your sister and Peyton Boulder.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Hell, someone even said that she helped them run off.”
Chaz silently cursed. Ned had come from a neighboring town and had formed his opinions based on rumors. “First of all, I don’t think my sister just ran off. She wouldn’t have done that. Second, Tawny-Lynn almost died in that crash herself. She was unconscious when the paramedics found her, had a broken leg and a concussion.”
Ned made a clicking sound with his teeth. “The concussion caused her amnesia?”
“Yes, according to the doctor,” Chaz said.
“But the accident— Didn’t the sheriff think that was suspicious?”
Chaz nodded. “There were skid marks from another vehicle on the pavement, but it started raining and they couldn’t get a good print.”
“Why would someone run the bus off the road?”
“Good question. The bus was carrying the softball team. Could have been some teen following too close or—”
“Competitors from another team?”
“I don’t think so. The sheriff looked into each of the girl’s lives, but none of them had any serious enemies.”
“So what’s your theory?” Ned asked.
Chaz contemplated the file he had at home. How many times had he studied the damn thing for answers?
“I don’t know. Two girls went missing from Sunset Mesa before the Camden incident and were never found. A lot of people think that a serial kidnapper took them. It’s possible he was stalking one of the girls on the team and caused the accident, then kidnapped Ruth and Peyton.”
“He’d have to be strong to wrestle both girls.”
“Not if he had a gun, or if they were hurt in the crash.”
His deputy studied his fingernails. “Do you have any idea who this guy is?”
Chaz shook his head. “No, and that’s just a theory. No proof.”
“But you all think that Tawny-Lynn Boulder saw this guy that day?”
“Some people think that. Like I said, she was unconscious when the medics arrived. But somehow she got out of the bus before it caught fire. Considering the fact that she had a broken leg and head injury, it’s not likely she walked.”
“Meaning someone dragged her to safety. But if it was the kidnapper, why not take her, too?”
“Maybe he was fixated on Ruth or Peyton. And like I said, Tawny-Lynn had a broken leg.” He gritted his teeth. Depending on what the sick bastard’s plans were, he probably hadn’t wanted her with the injury.
“Anyway,” Chaz continued. “Tonight someone left a bloody threat for Tawny-Lynn at White Forks. I took samples and managed to lift a few prints. Call the courier to pick it up, take it back to the lab and analyze it.”
“Sure.”
Chaz took a form from the desk and filled out the paperwork for chain of custody. “Tell the lab to call me as soon as they get the results.”
The deputy narrowed his eyes as he examined the photograph of the bloody message. “Someone really wants her gone.”
“It looks that way.” Chaz headed back to the door. “But it’s our job to protect her, Deputy. And to find out who made that threat.”
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN GRIPPED the bat with sweaty palms. It was the bottom of the ninth and the Camden Cats were one run behind. The team was depending on her.
The pitcher threw a curve ball that came in low, and she barely managed to check her swing in time before the umpire called ball one.
Two more pitches and she’d tipped the ball twice. Her stomach felt jittery. Her chest hurt. She couldn’t strike out now.
Another ball and it nearly hit her shoulder. She jumped back, the ball whizzing by her head. She stepped aside to steady herself, then ground the bat at the base and raised it, ready.
The pitcher wound up as the crowd and her teammates chanted her name. A second later, she swung at the ball. Metal connected with it, sending the ball flying, and she took off running as the ball soared over the fence. Her teammates screamed in excitement, the crowd roared and Peyton, who was on second base, sailed around the bases. Tawny-Lynn was faster than her sister and nearly caught her as they raced into home plate.
Her homerun sent the team one point ahead.
Roars and cheers from the crowd echoed in her ears as Ruth stepped up to bat. Three straight swings though and she struck out.
Still, the Cats had won. The girls rushed her, clapping and shouting and hugging. The coach pounded her on the back. “You’re our hero today, T!”
She beamed a smile as they grabbed their gym bags and jogged toward the bus. More congratulations and pats as the girls clamored into their seats.
“I have to stop by the bank. Let’s meet up at the pizza parlor to celebrate,” Coach Wake announced. He made his way back to his car while the bus driver fired up the bus.
Tawny-Lynn settled into a seat by herself while Peyton jumped in beside Ruth, and they started whispering and giggling.
Peyton was boy crazy, and Ruth was interested in someone, but they were keeping it a secret, talking in hushed voices. Jealousy sparked her to glare at them, but her sister pulled Ruth closer and tucked their heads together to shut her out.
The bus chugged around a curve, but it was dark on the country road, a storm brewing, thunder rumbling. A car raced up behind the bus and rammed it, and the bus jolted forward. The driver shouted, then tires screeched and the bus swerved toward the embankment. The ridge loomed below, and fear shot through Tawny-Lynn.
She hated heights. Had always been scared on the switchbacks.
The bus jerked again, something scraped the side, then the bus went into a skid. One of the girls screamed, brakes squealed, then the bus flew out of control, slammed into the metal guardrail and careened over the ridge.
Backpacks and gym bags slid onto the floor, and she gripped the seat edge to keep from falling. Bodies fell into the aisle, blood was flying, and she was thrown against the metal seat top as the bus crashed into the ravine.
Sometime later, she roused. It was dark, so dark...pain throbbed through her chest and leg.
She couldn’t move. It was deathly quiet.
Then she felt hands pulling at her, moving her. She tried to open her eyes, but the world was foggy.
Breathing rasped around her. She tried to see who was pulling her from the bus, but it was too dark. Then she heard crying again—another scream. Voices.
Was her sister all right?
She struggled to see, but...there was a man...his face...hidden in shadows. Who was he?
Tawny-Lynn jerked awake, panting for a breath. The dream...had been so real. A memory.
She had heard a voice. Seen a face.
A man’s? A woman’s? Peyton’s maybe?
God help her, who was it?
* * *
CHAZ POPPED OPEN a cold beer when he made it home, his mind obsessing over Tawny-Lynn. Was she sleeping now? Or was she awake, terrified the person who’d left her that bloody message would return and make good on his threat?
Tension knotted his shoulders. He wanted to be back at White Forks watching out for her. Making sure she was safe.
Holding her...
Dammit, no. Tawny-Lynn was the last woman on earth he needed to be attracted to.
Why her?
Why now?
Life would be so much simpler if she cleaned that place up quickly, hung the for-sale sign, left town and never came back.
Then he wouldn’t have to think about her being on that deserted run-down ranch by herself where God knew anyone could sneak up and attack her.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have enemies. She had too many to count.
The people who’d lost family members in that crash despised her for not being able to give them closure by identifying the person who’d hit the bus and caused the crash.
Their family members, Coach Wake and half the town had also been questioned as suspects and resented it because Tawny-Lynn could have cleared their names.
Coach Wake has literally sobbed at the news of the crash, saying maybe if he’d been with the girls on the bus he could have done something to save them. Instead, he’d driven his own car, taken a side road, then stopped for cash and a surprise cake to take to the celebration dinner.
Tawny-Lynn’s delicate face flashed in Chaz’s head, and he grimaced, sipped his beer and headed to his home office. The cabin was small, but he’d carved a workspace in the second bedroom where he’d hung a gigantic whiteboard and laid out everything he knew about the missing girls from Sunset Mesa and Camden Crossing.
A smaller board held photos of other missing young women from various states for comparison purposes so he could look for connections.
Once again, he studied the pictures former sheriff Harold Simmons had taken of the accident. The bus was a mess, dented and crushed against a boulder in the ravine, flames shooting from all sides.
Keith Plumbing, a local handyman had driven up on the scene and called it in. His statement said he’d first seen smoke, then stopped and realized it was a bus and called 911. He’d run down the embankment to rescue the students trapped inside, but by the time he reached the bus, it burst into flames. He saw Tawny-Lynn lying in the dirt several feet away. But no one else was around.
Due to the fact that Keith called in the accident and had a history of drinking on the job, and he’d worked in Camden Crossing and Sunset Mesa, the sheriff questioned him as a person of interest. Plumbing could have caused the crash, then lied about the timing, dragged Tawny-Lynn out to safety but couldn’t save the others.
Although he’d sworn he hadn’t seen Peyton or Ruth. And if he’d hurt them or kidnapped them, where had he taken them? He hadn’t had enough time between the time of the crash and when he’d called in the accident to dispose of a body.
Another photograph showed Tawny-Lynn unconscious on the stretcher, her leg twisted, blood streaking her face and hands. She looked so pale and fragile that he wondered how she’d survived.
Shaking off emotions he didn’t want to feel for her, he glanced at the list of suspects the sheriff had considered. Plumbing had been one. He’d also questioned Barry Dothan, a young man with a mental disability that affected his learning and behavior.
Dothan liked to watch teenagers and took pictures of them on the track, swim team and softball field. But his mother swore that Barry was harmless, that he would never hurt a soul. The pictures of Ruth and Peyton posted on the corkboard above his bed were the only evidence that incriminated him. Some of the girls at school claimed they felt uncomfortable around him, but none of them had accused him of inappropriate behavior.
Chaz downed the rest of his beer and grabbed another, pacing to calm himself. God, his heart hurt just imagining what might have happened to his sister and Ruth.
He skimmed the former sheriff’s notes. The investigators they’d called in from the county had found remains of three girls and the driver in the ashes left after the bus had exploded.
Ruth and Peyton were not among them.
So what the hell had happened to them?
Could Plumbing have had more time than they’d originally thought, time to kill the girls and dump their bodies somewhere?
They’d searched the man’s truck. No girls, blood or forensics inside.
They’d also combed the area surrounding the crash site for bodies, a dead end as well.
Dothan didn’t seem smart enough to abduct two girls and hide them.
But nobody else was there.
There had to be, though—or else how had Tawny-Lynn escaped the burning bus?
Peyton or Ruth could have dragged her out. But then what?
Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the desk, rattling paper clips and files.
He forced himself to look at the pictures of the two girls who’d gone missing from Sunset Mesa the year before. Almost the same time of year.
Avery Portland and Melanie Hoit. Avery grew up with a single mother, worked at the ice cream shop and was voted most likely to succeed in her class. She was popular, on the dance team at school, and class president.
Melanie was a cheerleader, pretty and aspired to be a model. Some of her classmates described her as the girl everyone wanted to be. A few others commented that she was a snob.
But so far everyone they’d questioned had alibis.
And neither girl had been found. No body. No ransom calls.
Nothing.
The parents wanted closure just as the residents in Camden Crossing did.
He slumped down in the chair and glanced back at the photo of Tawny-Lynn. No wonder his parents and the other family members of the victims had turned on her.
She might be the only lead they had.
He understood people’s anger and frustration.
But why would someone want to hurt her? Then she’d never be able to tell them who else had been there that day.
The answer hit him like a fist in the gut.
Someone didn’t want her to remember because there had been foul play.
And if she could identify the culprit, she could put him or her in jail....
* * *
HE WATCHED THE house where Tawny-Lynn slept.
The images of the girls who’d died tormented him. He hadn’t meant to kill them all. He loved them too much to do them harm.
But things had gotten out of hand. Then everything had gone wrong.
His gut churned with memories of the screams of those girls in the fire. That had been...terrible. He had nightmares to this day. He would never have wanted any of them to suffer like that.
His heart was racing as he remembered the panic that had seized him when the bus had exploded.
Ah, sweet Peyton. So easy to love.
And Ruth... He’d wanted her so badly back then.
Another few months and maybe Tawny-Lynn would have appealed to him, too. She did now.
So sexy and athletic and that soft, blond hair... She’d turned out to be pretty after all.
Too bad she might have to die.
Chapter Six
Tawny-Lynn couldn’t go back to sleep. She didn’t even want to go back to sleep, and relive the same old nightmare.
If only she could recall the face of the person who’d rescued her.
She climbed from bed, threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and yanked her hair back into a ponytail. The mammoth job of cleaning the rest of the house awaited her.
But she needed coffee and food, and now that the kitchen was clean, she needed some groceries to get by on until she could make the necessary repairs to the ranch.
She jogged down the stairs, but the sound of her sister’s voice called to her as if she was begging her to find her.
She grabbed her purse and cell phone, then remembered her car was in the shop. She’d seen the keys to her father’s pickup somewhere. If it was still running, she’d take it into town.
She glanced around the living room, daunted by the task she faced, then went back to the kitchen and remembered that she’d put the keys in the wicker basket with the bills that needed attention. Keys in hand, she jogged outside and found the truck parked beneath the makeshift carport her father had erected. The ancient truck was rusty and chugged and coughed as she tried to start it, as if it hadn’t been cranked in ages. But her father had to have driven it to pick up his booze and the junk boxes he collected.
After three attempts, the battery finally charged to life, and she pulled from the carport. Remembering the intruder the night before, she scanned the property surrounding the ranch, but everything looked still and quiet.
Relieved, she barreled down the dirt drive and turned on the road to town. She passed the high school, pausing for a second to watch as the teenagers began to arrive. Students had gathered in the parking lot to hang out before going inside just as she and Ruth and Peyton used to do with the team. Softball season was almost over, and a sign out front congratulated the team for making it to the state finals. They were probably beginning play-offs now. Coach Wake was sure to be ecstatic.
She sped up, entered the town square and parked in front of the diner, desperate for coffee and breakfast. Thunderclouds darkened the sky, promising rain, and she pulled on her denim jacket and walked up the sidewalk to the diner. An old-fashioned hitching post and wagon wheel made the wooden structure look like a building from the past.
The delicious scent of bacon and coffee engulfed her when she entered, and her stomach growled. When had she eaten last?
She glanced around the room in search of an empty booth and suddenly felt tension charge the air. Voices quieted. Laughter died. A few whispers echoed through the diner.
Nerves climbed up her neck.
Suddenly Chaz appeared looking larger than life and so sexy that need spiraled through her.
“Good morning, Tawny-Lynn.”
She wasn’t so sure of that. “Maybe I should leave.”
He shook his head. “No, sit down, have breakfast with me.”
Did he know what he was doing? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He took her arm and ushered her into a booth to the left. “Well, I do. I’m sheriff. People had better take note.”
Some emotion she couldn’t define swelled inside her. She hadn’t had anyone stand up for her in a long time.
She sank into the booth, exhausted already, and the day hadn’t even begun. Chaz motioned for the waitress, and she appeared, a pencil jammed into her bouffant hairdo.
“Morning, Sheriff.” She glanced down at Tawny-Lynn, her penciled-in eyebrows knit together. “Hey, sugar. You new to town?”
Tawny-Lynn fiddled with the paper napkin as she read the woman’s name tag. Her name was Hilda. “I used to live here. I’m Tawny-Lynn Boulder.”
“Oh, right, hon, I heard you were coming home. So sorry about your daddy.” Hilda set two coffee cups on the gingham tablecloth and filled them with coffee from the pot on her tray. “He used to come in for coffee every now and then.”
When he was sober? Tawny-Lynn couldn’t imagine.
But she relaxed at the woman’s friendly smile.
“What’ll you two have?”
“The breakfast special for me.” Chaz grinned at Tawny-Lynn. “They make the best biscuits in town.”
She noted the chalkboard. The special was three eggs, sausage and pancakes. If she ate all that, she’d be too full to get any work done.
“I’ll take the country breakfast. Scrambled eggs with cheese.”
“Sausage or bacon?”
“Sausage.”
Hilda smiled again, then called their order in and headed to the next table.
“Did you sleep any last night?” Chaz asked.
She fiddled with her napkin. “A little. But I dreamed about the crash.”
He was watching her, his interest piqued, but he didn’t push. “You dream about it a lot?”
She nodded. “All the time.”
“What happens in the dream?”
She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped the ponytail holder behind her ear. “I’m at the ball game. We win, everyone’s excited, cheering. Then we run to the bus. Coach says we’ll meet for pizza.” Goose bumps skated up her arms.
“Then?”
“Then we’re in the bus and everyone’s talking and then the bus jerks...like someone hit us, and the driver loses control.”
Chaz sucked in a sharp breath. “That fits with our theory.”
“You believe someone caused the accident?”
“Yes, but we don’t know if it was an accident, or if someone intentionally slammed into the bus.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/rita-herron/cold-case-at-camden-crossing/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.