by Rita Herron
“Honey is not a bad person,” Dwayne said. “She’s really loving. She just can’t settle down.”
“She’s a slut,” Sally said viciously. “I bet that blond hair comes out of a bottle.”
“She’s a natural,” Dwayne said, and John shot Sam a look that said Dwayne was an absolute fool for defending Honey and the naturalness of her hair color.
Footsteps pounded, and Sam grimaced and peeked through the window, wondering if their argument might get physical. She didn’t think Dwayne would ever hit a woman, but Sally had always been volatile and the jealous type.
“Tell me the truth, Dwayne.” Sally pinned him with narrowed eyes. “Is that brat yours?”
Sam flinched at the desperate tone to Sally’s voice. If Dwayne answered yes, no telling what Sally would do.
“No, of course not.” Dwayne scrubbed his fingers through his hair, spiking it into disarray. “I haven’t seen Honey in over a year.”
“But you talked to her,” Sally accused. “I saw her number on your phone log.”
“You snooped on my phone,” Dwayne said, his tone appalled. “My God, Sally, you need help.”
More footsteps clattered, and Sam and John hurried down the steps toward the car. Sam expected Dwayne to barrel out the front door, but he must have gone toward the back, because they made it to the car without incident.
“What do you think?” John asked.
Sam heaved a breath. “That we need to talk to Dwayne alone. I don’t think Emmie is his. Dwayne’s not a cheater, but he might know more.”
John studied her for a moment. “Wait awhile then call him on his cell. Maybe he knows who the father of the baby is.”
Sam grew pensive. Maybe he did. If not, perhaps he could tell them the full name of the guy she’d met in Montgomery, and any other men she might have met after she’d left.
John gestured toward the pickup truck parked next to a green four-door sedan. “Didn’t you say that the car that tried to run you down was a dark sedan?”
Sam nodded, a shiver running down her spine. Sally was obviously jealous of Honey. If she’d suspected Emmie was Dwayne’s or that he would hook back up with her, would Sally try to kill Honey and her baby?
JOHN’S PHONE BUZZED and he checked the number—Deputy Floyd. He quickly connected the call while Sam soothed the baby.
“Have you found anything?” John asked.
“No. We’ve searched the north hills and located a couple of abandoned old houses, but there were no signs that anyone was there.”
John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Keep looking. And organize a group to search behind Sam’s house again, but this time extend the area to a five-mile radius.”
“Will do.”
His phone beeped with another call, and he saw it was his father. His deputy disconnected, and he considered not taking his father’s call, but there was no use putting it off.
“John, what’s going on there? I talked to the mayor, and he said he stopped by your office but you weren’t in. Your deputy told him you might have a murder.”
Sam strapped the baby into the car seat and settled her in the car, but he remained outside, wanting privacy. “Yes, Dad,” he said, then explained about Honey and the attack on Samantha.
“Don’t tell me you’re actively pursuing this,” his father said in a brittle tone. “If you have to put someone else on the investigation to make it look good, do so. But I want you in Atlanta in two days to meet with the financial backers I’ve lined up. They’re looking for a gubernatorial candidate and I want your name in the mix.”
John gritted his teeth. “Dad, I’ll see if I can get this case resolved by then, but I can’t make promises. A murder here in Butterville is huge and I’m in charge.”
“Who cares about that trampy girl?” his father snapped.
“Samantha Corley for one,” John said, irritated. His father might hold a senate seat, but he wouldn’t tell him how to do his job. “And if Honey, her baby, Sam or any other citizen in this town is in danger, I’m going to damn well do everything I can to protect them.”
A long, tense pause stretched between them, his father’s anger palpable. “Just don’t let this job interfere with the bigger picture, son. You’re too smart and have too bright a future to stay in that Podunk town.”
His father had told him that for years, but for the first time, John found his father’s attitude snobby. “The people in this town may be country,” he said between gritted teeth. “But what kind of cop, man or politician would I make if I didn’t do my job here, if I decided one person’s life was more valuable over another’s?” His own anger rose. “Not the kind of man I’d want elected.”
His father hissed, but John didn’t wait on a response. He disconnected the call.
He wouldn’t let his father sway him into leaving town before he found Honey and he knew the baby and Sam were safe.
He’d made Sam a promise and he intended to keep it.
“CAN YOU THINK OF ANYWHERE else Honey might go or someone she might turn to if she had escaped her attacker?” John asked.
“I don’t think she kept in touch with anyone else.” Sam chewed her lower lip in thought. “But she might turn to Miss Mazie.”
John steered the car onto the highway. “Then let’s go see Miss Mazie.”
Sam contemplated how to get Dwayne alone while John drove the short distance to the older woman’s house. A mixture of emotions welled in Sam’s chest as they parked and walked up to the two-story antebellum house. It had seen its better days, but she could still see Honey and her and the other kids Miss Mazie had cared for playing in the front yard, swaying in the tire swing hanging from the giant oak, chanting rhymes as they rocked on the wraparound porch.
Sam knocked and John shifted, checking the window as they waited on Miss Mazie to shuffle to the door. She was in her late sixties now and had undergone a knee replacement and relied on a cane, but her short brown curls were void of gray and her eyes were alert as she opened the door.
“Samantha, baby, it’s good to see you.” The older woman glanced at the baby in Sam’s arms with a curious eye raise, then at John, and a wariness crossed her face as if she realized something was wrong. “Hello, John. My, you’ve gotten to be a big good-looking man.”
John shifted uncomfortably, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Good to see you, ma’am. It’s been a while.”
“We need to talk to you,” Sam said. “Can we come in?”
“Of course.” Miss Mazie gestured for them to enter, and John followed her and Miss Mazie to the kitchen. Miss Mazie set a plate of homemade fried apple pies on the table and poured them a glass of sweet iced tea before sitting down. You couldn’t visit Miss Mazie without eating something. Affection for the woman who’d taken her in warmed her as she bit into the juicy apple filling. Miss Mazie had taught her everything she knew about cooking.
Miss Mazie leaned across the table and patted the baby. “Who is this little angel?”
“That’s one reason we’re here,” Sam said.
Miss Mazie’s smile faded. “You know, darling, that I don’t take children in anymore. I can’t, not for more than a night or two.”
“I know.” Sympathy and affection for Miss Mazie warmed Sam’s heart. “And I didn’t come to ask you to. It’s about Honey.”
Alarm flickered in Miss Mazie’s gray eyes. “What about my girl Honey?”
Sam explained about finding the baby, the blood on the floor, and that they thought the baby belonged to Honey, omitting John’s theory that Honey might have kidnapped the child.
John cast her a curious look, but she refused to let him sully Honey’s name in front of Miss Mazie. Apparently he understood her silent warning, that or he realized Miss Mazie would jump down his throat if he started spouting bad things about Honey.
“Have you heard from Honey lately?” Sam asked.
Miss Mazie shook her head and stroked the baby’s cheek with gnarled fingers. “No, not in
months. The last postcard I received from her was from Dallas. She was excited about trying out for the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.” A soft sigh escaped her. “Honey always dreamed about that.”
Sam nodded. “Well, thanks for your time, Miss Mazie. If you hear from her, please call me.”
Miss Mazie clutched Sam’s hand as she started to stand, then turned an imploring look toward John. “Please find her, Chief. I don’t want that baby to grow up without her mama.”
John nodded, and Sam squeezed the woman’s hand. “Try not to worry. Honey is a fighter, I know she’s out there doing everything she can to get back to her daughter.” She hugged Miss Mazie, and Miss Mazie bent to kiss Emmie’s forehead. “We’ll find her and make sure she raises Emmie. And when they’re back together, we’ll come to see you.”
“I’ll start a Butterbean doll for my grandbaby,” Miss Mazie said with a sparkle back in her eyes.
John gave Sam an odd look as they headed back outside.
She only hoped that she hadn’t just lied to the woman who’d raised her and that they found Honey alive.
Her cell phone rang, and Sam dug inside her purse. “It’s Dwayne.”
“Answer it,” John said.
She clicked to connect the call. “Hey, Dwayne, it’s Sam.”
“Sam,” Dwayne said in a panicked voice. “I want to help you look for Honey.”
“Dwayne, I understand it was hard to talk in front of Sally. Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
A hesitant pause. “No, not really. But if you have a search party out looking, I’ll be glad to help.”
“Be honest with me, Dwayne. Did you see Honey when she got to town?”
“No, I swear, I didn’t.”
“I understand this is hard, Dwayne, but could this baby possibly be yours?”
“No,” Dwayne said quickly. “I was telling the truth about that. It’s been over a year since I saw Honey.”
“How about Sally? Could she have talked to her or seen her?”
Another pause. “I don’t know. She’s irrational when it comes to Honey. I’ve told her over and over that there’s nothing between me and Honey except friendship, but she swears there’s more.”
“Do you think she would hurt Honey?”
Dwayne hissed a breath. “I don’t want to believe that she would.”
Sam’s stomach knotted. Not wanting to believe wasn’t the same as believing. “But you’re not sure?”
“She was with me night before last,” he said, but his voice cracked.
Sam sighed. “Did Honey tell you she had a baby?”
“No. I wish she’d admitted she was in trouble. She knows I would have helped her.”
Sam’s heart clenched for him. She could almost understand Sally’s jealousy. Honey had that kind of effect on men. They couldn’t help but fall all over her. “Dwayne, if you’re not Emmie’s father, then we need to find out who is. Do you have any idea?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask that guy Randy she met in Montgomery.”
Emmie began to fuss, and Sam glanced at John. She was probably getting hungry again. “We’d like to, Dwayne. Do you know his last name?”
“Ackerman,” Dwayne said. “He worked at Billy Bob’s Barbeque with Honey.”
“Thanks, Dwayne,” Sam said. “We’ll see if we can find him. Maybe he can give us more information.”
“What did he say?” John asked when she closed her phone.
“That he’s not Emmie’s father, but we should talk to Randy Ackerman, the guy she left him for.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth?”
“About seeing Honey—yes.” Sam twisted her hands together. “But Sally is the one who worries me.”
What if her irrational jealousy had turned violent?
“SALLY IS SUSPICIOUS,” John said. “But that partial footprint seemed too large for a woman.” He maneuvered the car around the curve. “Of course Sally could have hired help. Does she have a brother or someone in town who might do something illegal for her?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Let’s go by the station and I’ll see what can dig up on Randy Ackerman.”
The baby whimpered from the back, and Sam turned to try to comfort her. “We’ll stop soon and I’ll feed you, sweetie pie. It won’t be long, I promise.”
John’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number. It was his deputy so he quickly connected the call. “Chief Wise.”
“Chief, I don’t know if this has anything to do with Honey Dawson, but we found footprints and blood by the river near the old mill. We also found a locket.”
“I’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call, turned the car around on a side road and headed toward the river.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “Did they find Honey?”
“No, but my deputy found blood and footprints down by the river.”
Fear clouded Sam’s eyes, and she gazed out the window as he wound his way to the old mill. The SUV bounced over the ruts in the road, the baby’s cries escalating, adding to the tension. Gigantic trees created a canopy along the highway, the mountain stream gurgling along the road.
John scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, sweating. The crisp fall wind rattled the leaves, sending them raining down as he parked and climbed out.
“John, do you mind getting a bottle from that bag?” Sam asked as she hurried to scoop up the baby. Emmie was crying ferociously now, and he dug for the bottle, rushed around to her side of the car and handed it to her. She cradled the little girl in her arms and the baby instantly quieted as she latched on to eat.
The deputy was crouched down beside a patch of weeds by the river, and Sam followed John to the edge to speak to him. Blood dotted the pile of rocks, and partial footprints marred the mud, although John doubted they would be enough to get a match.
Deputy Floyd looked up at him, a delicate silver chain with a heart locket attached dangling from his fingers. “I found this necklace by the rocks. Could belong to the missing girl.”
“Or anyone else who’d been hiking or camping here lately,” John muttered, although the blood did look suspicious.
Sam made a strangled sound behind him, then stepped forward and touched the locket. “This is Honey’s.” She traced a finger over the etching on the front. “It was the only thing her mother left with her when she abandoned her.”
She glanced at the river raging over the jagged rocks, and a tortured expression darkened her eyes
Sympathy welled in John’s chest. He placed his hand on the small of her back to comfort her, the silence stretching between them as the implications set in.
What if the man had killed Honey and dumped her body in the river?
Chapter Eight
Memories flooded Sam as she stared at the silver locket. Honey had laughed in a sad sort of way when she’d told Sam about her mother’s parting gift. The locket wasn’t expensive, but the word Love was etched on the back. Honey had insisted that etching meant that her mother had loved her in spite of the fact that she’d left her on the doorstep of a church in the middle of the night.
But even though she’d left the locket with Honey, there hadn’t been any pictures inside—none of her mother or father or even of Honey. It had been empty.
Sam gritted her teeth. She had thought that gift the cruelest of all and had decided that Honey’s mother had had an empty heart like that locket.
John stroked her back, and she blinked back tears as she rocked the baby in her arms and stared at the river. The current was strong, the fall wind whipping dry leaves around her feet, the temperature in the mountains dropping with the hint of bad weather.
The river in the mountains never got truly warm, and this time of year it was icy.
Couple that with the fact that Honey had obviously been injured, and bleeding, that she didn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds, that Honey had never learned to swim and that if someone had overpowered her and throw
n her in the river, and she might not have survived.
A tear trickled from her eye, and she lifted one hand to swipe at it.
No! Panic screamed through Sam’s head. Honey was not dead. Not her best friend.
She refused to believe it.
She would know if Honey was gone; she’d feel it.
“Sam?” John said. “You’re sure this was Honey’s necklace?”
She swallowed hard and pulled herself together. “Yes. Honey never took it off.”
His gaze met hers, concern glittering in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Anger rolled through her. “She’s not dead, John. She’s not.”
Emmie finished the bottle, and Sam lifted the baby to her shoulder and patted her back.
“Sam, I know you want to believe that, but you have to face the truth, that it’s possible that she didn’t survive.”
“I don’t have to face anything yet,” Sam said. “Honey is a survivor. I won’t believe that she’s gone, not unless you show me her body.”
John frowned. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really am.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Sam snapped. “Just find her, John.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded, turned to his deputy and spoke in a commanding voice. “Let’s get a team out here to drag the river.”
Sam swayed slightly, his words suggesting a harsh reality that she didn’t want to face. Honey was the only person she’d ever been close to.
If her best friend was gone, then she was all alone.
The baby swatted her tiny fingers at Sam’s shoulder and her heart lurched. No, she wasn’t alone. She had Honey’s little girl, and she would raise her as her own.
And Emmie would know that her mother hadn’t abandoned her, that she’d loved her with all her heart.
With a gloved hand John took the necklace. “I’ll have this checked for fingerprints.” He flipped open the locket and Sam peered inside, her heart thumping. The locket had always been empty, but now there was a picture of Emmie on one side.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. There was another photo on the opposite side. A picture of a second baby, this one wrapped in a pale blue blanket.