by Webb, Debra
“She didn’t mention any particular life issue getting in her way?”
He shakes his head. “She did not.”
I bite my lip and then take the plunge. “Mr. Caldwell, do you mind if I ask where you were the day Natalie disappeared?”
Another of those sad smiles tugs at his lips. “I was right here until seven that evening conducting SAT prep classes. I was supposed to have those classes every evening that week, but I rescheduled so I could help with the search. I’m sure the school has a record of it somewhere.”
“Thank you, Mr. Caldwell.” I stand, my vision glazing with tears. “I really appreciate your time.”
I head for the door.
“The truth is, Emma, Stacy is the one I was most concerned about.”
His voice stops me cold in my tracks. I turn back to him. “How do you mean?”
“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this to anyone besides the police or her father.” He shakes his head, stares at the floor a moment. “But if it’ll help you and Letty find what you’re looking for, I’ll take the risk.”
“Letty is the only person who will know whatever you tell me.” I make this promise understanding that I may not be able to keep it completely, but I will try my best.
“Stacy went through something in the middle of the first semester that school year. Her grades fell dramatically. She seemed depressed, but she came around by Christmas. I wanted to talk to her father but she begged me not to. She said he’d been going through some issues of his own since her mother died the year before. Frankly, I assumed at the time that was her problem as well and maybe it was. I urged her to speak to the school counselor but she never did.” He stands and moves toward me.
This is exactly why Letty and I decided to question everyone—even those like this man who had confirmed, airtight alibis. Time changes perspective, allows emotional distance and sometimes, sometimes it causes us to rethink what we felt was important in the past.
“Then that spring,” he goes on, standing close enough for me to see the hope as well as the regret in his eyes, “she began behaving the same way all over again. Depressed, agitated. Once more I tried to talk to her about the issue but she wouldn’t open up to me. After they disappeared I mentioned my concerns to Sheriff Claiborne—that was before he became the chief—but he chalked it up to her mother’s death as well. Didn’t seem to think it was relevant. Still,” he shakes his head again, “looking back, it feels like it was more. I’ll always wonder if I missed something. Of course she had Natalie. I imagine Natalie knew whatever was going on.”
I would bet my life Natalie knew.
The question is: was that knowledge what got my sister and her best friend killed?
27
Midafternoon Letty and I rendezvous at the farm to compare notes. Mr. Timmons left for his hotel in Huntsville. Letty is dubious about his participation. I’m undecided but I trust her instincts on the matter. She would certainly have a better sense for this sort of thing than me.
“You’re worried Timmons is pretending to help so he can keep Claiborne or whoever informed about what we’re doing.”
“Yeah.” Letty sips her coffee. “Too many missing pieces lead back to Claiborne. Like information from witnesses that was never documented in any of the detectives’ reports—that was Claiborne, I checked. I don’t know. It feels like a good portion of the original investigation was glossed over because they thought they had their man. Going through the motions was just for appearances.”
My dad had trusted Claiborne. Mother still does as far as I know. She has never mentioned any scandals related to him or his position as chief of police now or sheriff then. But I have been gone a very long time and Letty has been right here. As certain as I am that she is biased to some degree since Claiborne is the one who first pointed a finger at her father, she is the sheriff. She is also a woman, and she didn’t reach that position without being very, very good at her job.
“Would Claiborne be that careless or are you suggesting he purposely ignored details that pointed to someone besides your father?” Even the top cop was only human. He wanted his citizens to feel safe, he wanted to close the case—maybe even if there was a chance he had the wrong man.
Letty sets her coffee aside and walks to the window over the kitchen sink. “I honestly don’t know, but what I do know is a shoddy investigation. The statements made by at least three people are missing. Either they were never added to the case file or they were later lost or removed. None of the interviews were recorded. Alibis were checked off a list and at times not fully documented.”
She lapses into silence. I imagine she is struggling to conquer her emotions. I wait. The scent of fresh brewed coffee tugs at my senses so I grab a mug. Might as well have a shot of caffeine to add to my jumpiness. I savor the dark, rich flavor and consider how to frame my next query.
“Tell me about the current political hierarchy in Jackson Falls.” This is a good starting place.
“Heather, as you know, is the mayor, but I’m pretty sure her mother still has a hand in running that office.” She turns to me, leans against the counter. “The city council is filled with the usual suspects, more friends of Lorraine. Basically, the same people who’ve always run Jackson Falls still do. The town’s hierarchy hasn’t changed that much since we were kids. Hell, since my grandparents were kids.”
Like my grandparents, Letty’s are all long dead but I get what she’s saying. “Maybe that explains what Lorraine meant with that veiled threat she tossed at me when I met Helen for lunch today.”
I’ve already filled Letty in on what I learned from the teachers I interviewed. Lorraine’s hateful words were the furthest things from my mind after hearing what Caldwell had to say about Stacy Yarbrough.
Suddenly Lorraine’s words feel far more relevant than they did a few hours ago.
For every action, there is always a reaction. Everything we do in this life has consequences, Emma. Unlike you, Letty lives in a small town where certain powerful influences make the important decisions. Perhaps you might serve your friendship with Letty best by reminding her of all she and her mother have to lose.
“You ran into Lorraine at Sweet Tea & Biscuits?”
“Sort of. I was going inside and she said hello.” I tell Letty the rest. As I speak, I watch the anger flare in my friend’s eyes.
She opens her mouth to say something then snaps it shut and holds up a hand for me to give her a moment. I hate that I had to repeat those obnoxious words but this is not the time for paraphrasing the truth. We have to operate on the facts, good or bad.
“Screw her,” Letty growls.
I nod. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” I take a breath. “But she does have a point.”
“Screw her point.” Letty paces the floor now.
“Moving on,” I suggest, “my biggest question coming away from those interviews is why hasn’t Yarbrough mentioned the trouble his daughter had the first semester of the school year?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Letty states this with complete conviction and, considering what I’ve seen in recent days, I have to agree. Delbert Yarbrough would have torn the school apart if he had believed for one minute that his daughter had been in any way harmed or harassed by another student or a teacher. Our mothers would remember the fracas. Caldwell did say that Stacy begged him not to tell her father and there was nothing in the documented interviews of the case file about the trouble. I shake my head. Yarbrough had no way of knowing. Apparently there were a lot of things the families of the victims didn’t know.
Letty stops her pacing, her expression a study in concentration. “If our killer was a teacher, based on what you learned we can rule out DeSoto and Caldwell for sure. We’ve already ruled out two of the others.” Letty searches my face one long moment before she continues, “That leaves Matthew Beaumont and we know that he was in an accident that same day.”
I nod. “Larson mentioned his accident. He die
d a few years later.”
“Five years later,” she confirms. “My mom was their housekeeper back then, remember? She cleaned that house the very same day he died. He was at home sick—she said that happened a lot those last couple of years. She thinks he was addicted to painkillers. He was a mess. Lorraine is probably the only reason the school didn’t fire him. Anyway, the kids came home after school and found him dead.”
“Damn.” Why didn’t I remember those details? “I guess her being mayor at the time, she could keep all those unsavory details quiet.”
“Oh yeah. And Mom said she played the grieving widow to the hilt. She never remarried, you know, just focused on her kids and being mayor—not necessarily in that order.” Letty frowns as if she’s trying to recall some other relevant detail. “I overheard her talking recently about her engagement. She said that her kids were settled and it was time for her to indulge herself for a change. With Heather in the mayor’s seat and Marshall, her youngest, sitting pretty in the area’s top law firm, she was just happier than a dead pig in the sunshine. Course that was before Mark had to be whisked off to rehab again last month.”
“I told you I ran into Mark the other day.” I make a face. “At Johnny’s on Sunday.”
Letty gives me a look. “Do I want to know why you were at Johnny’s?”
“Probably not, but Mark was there and he looked like hell.”
“Yeah, he has problems. Except, on paper,” Letty explains, “he’s the model citizen. He works for the city, runs the Environmental Department, which is a fancy way of saying he oversees garbage and recycling. He’s been married three times, been in rehab about a dozen times and he lives in a house in the historic section of Decatur that his momma bought. She doesn’t like him too close to the rest of the family since he’s prone to wild parties and drinking binges.”
“How does he run the Environmental Department?” I ask, using air quotes for emphasis.
“His sister makes sure things run smoothly.”
“With all those problems of her own,” I venture, “why does Lorraine care what we’re doing? Beyond not wanting the investigation conducted under her watch to look bad, what’s her issue?”
Letty laughs but her face turns immediately somber. “Maybe Lorraine’s afraid we’ll bring up some unsavory suggestion about her dead husband since he was one of Natalie and Stacy’s teachers—he is the only one we haven’t ruled out. Now definitely isn’t a good time for her to be seen in even the most remote bad light. The wedding date hasn’t been set and her man has to get himself reelected.”
“So,” I take a mental step back and evaluate what we have, “if the trouble Natalie and/or Stacy were having originated in school with an older man—possibly a teacher—we’re left with Matthew Beaumont. If the accident was his alibi, then we shouldn’t waste our time and Lorraine shouldn’t care. Either way, my only question to you is: when and where was this accident? We might as well rule him out by confirming his alibi the same way we have the others.”
“Only a mile or two from his house on…” Letty’s gaze connects with mine. “On Indian Creek Road.”
We both know the fact that he lived on that road doesn’t make him the one. We also both recognize that we’re grasping at straws with every step we make in this unofficial investigation. But we have to follow every lead. We agreed in the beginning that our investigation would include everyone, that we wouldn’t leave anyone out.
That includes Lorraine Jackson Beaumont’s dead husband.
* * *
I drive to Indian Creek Road while Letty goes to her office to get a copy of the accident report. She’ll catch up with me. Since I have some time, I make a detour past the Yarbrough home. I even pull into the driveway. All is quiet. No sign of his truck. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, but rather than get out, I turn around and head back to Indian Creek. Letty is expecting me and I don’t need to go off halfcocked and break into the man’s house.
No matter how much I want to.
As I reach the Jackson home—the house will always be referred to as the Jackson home since Lorraine’s forefathers built it—I slow. Beaumont was leaving home when he had the accident, that much we know. I turn around in the driveway and head back in the direction of town.
As I round the curve I spot Letty’s Jeep a quarter of a mile away, on this side of the bridge. I pull onto the shoulder and she does the same. We climb out and meet at the yellow line. Tension crackles between us. As certain as I am that this is likely just another dead end, it feels like more. Or perhaps it’s simply because we’re on this road…so close to that damned cave. She turns the pages of the accident report until she finds the map the deputy created.
“Deputy Tubbs said Beaumont took the curve too fast.” Letty gestures back in the direction I’d come. “He went off the road into that ravine.”
We walk the few hundred feet to the location listed in the report, then to the edge of the road and peer into the deep ditch. I can see why he was so badly injured.
“Shit.” I turn to Letty.
She looks from the report to me and shakes her head. “Couldn’t have been Beaumont. His accident occurred about the same time as the bus crash. Both accident times are only estimates, but the timing is too close to believe Beaumont left school, picked up Natalie and Stacy, took them somewhere and then came back to this location and had his accident.”
“Damn. It feels like every direction we take leads nowhere.” Frustration expands inside me.
Letty crams the map and the report into her back pocket. “We have to be missing something.”
“We’ve been focusing on the idea that the person who took Natalie and Stacy was a man—the same man who may have been giving one or both trouble at school.”
Letty’s lips slowly form a smile. “You’re thinking maybe it was a woman, a woman who wanted to protect her man.”
“Lorraine would do anything to protect her family.” I’m off and running. The possibilities rush into my brain. “Even if it wasn’t her husband, what if it was Mark? He was seventeen or eighteen at the time and full of himself. Maybe he picked up Natalie and Stacy and did something horrible, then called his dad for help. Dad has an accident rushing to his aid so Mommy has to finish the job.”
I hate throwing Mark under the bus but he does have issues. Big issues based on what Letty has told me and they started around that same time. Whatever he did or didn’t do, we have to rule him out. It’s the only way to be sure.
“Oh my God,” Letty pops her forehead with the heel of her hand, “I should have thought of that. Maybe Mr. Beaumont was pressuring Natalie and Stacy to drop whatever issue one or both had with his son. They wouldn’t drop it and the son decides to clean up his own mess only he goes overboard and...” She lets out an unsteady breath. “And he kills them or someone helps him kill them and then they have to hide the bodies.”
“Oh damn.” My heart is racing. “Do you think Lorraine could commit cold blooded murder?”
Letty nods. “Yeah, I do.”
She frowns, drags her cell from her pocket. “Yarbrough is sitting on the road outside the Shepherd’s home.”
“The Baldwin girl lives two houses down, right?”
She nods in answer. “If he has something to do with their disappearance, maybe he’s feeling remorse. I think it’s time he and I had another talk. You want to come with me?”
“I believe I’ll visit our old friend Heather.”
“Don’t tip our hand about Mark,” Letty warns. “We’re running out of potential leads. The last thing we need is Lorraine covering up any more tracks.”
My friend needn’t worry. If there’s one thing I am very, very good at, it’s hiding the truth.
* * *
The mayor’s office was moved to an elegant corner shop on the square about a hundred years ago. Walton Mercantile went out of business after the owner died and the historic property came on the market. The Jackson family bought the corner shop with its massive
windows that look out over two sides of the square and donated it to the city for the purpose of making sure their accommodations were suitable.
The lobby is elegantly decorated and the receptionist is young and attractive. She smiles and welcomes me to the mayor’s office. Within moments of my arrival I’m sitting in Heather Beaumont Turner’s office. Rich wood paneled walls and mahogany furnishings are softened by luxurious curtains and elegantly upholstered chairs. Awards and prized photo ops with distinguished businessmen and other politicians line the walls.
“I saw you and Letty on the news yesterday.” Heather smiles but it’s fake. “You seem to be showing up there more and more.” She looks me up and down, from my braided hair to my well-worn jeans.
“I promise it’s not because I want to be there,” I assure her. “It’s the bones.”
Another of those plastic smiles nudges at her lips. “You always were different.”
“I can’t deny that one. But this time it’s not really about me. Everyone is poised and ready to finally know the truth about what happened to my sister and her friend Stacy.” I push out of my chair and walk to the shelves where framed photographs of her family sit. “Your children are beautiful.”
Of course they would be, both she and Brad are attractive.
“Thank you. We’re very proud of them.”
I notice a photo of Mallory’s daughter and Heather’s brother Marshall. “I guess you and Mallory mended your longtime rift.”
Heather and Mallory were never really friends—Mallory was far older than her. But there was a time when Mallory and Mark were inseparable. Then suddenly Mallory started calling him brace face and began using lunch period to point out every pimple that appeared on his face. It wasn’t until the drive over here that I remembered Natalie telling Mother about Lorraine showing up at school to put an end to the bullying. I wonder now what Mark did to Mallory to make her so angry.