Crybaby Falls

by Paula Graves

  Sara wasn’t sure why, exactly, she’d gone to Cain’s rescue earlier. Maybe because she knew how it felt to be the object of staring eyes and whispered innuendos, at least since the accident. “No, just the opposite,” she said quietly. “I don’t think he killed her, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated as if he did.”

  “Then who?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here trying to find out, would I?”

  Kelly sighed. “I hate to think it could be one of us.”

  It was almost certainly “one of us,” Sara thought. But who?

  “I don’t like it, either,” she admitted. “But it’s probable, don’t you think? People are often murdered by people they know.”

  Kelly’s lips pressed together in dismay, her gaze sliding around the room again. Suddenly, her brow furrowed, and she gave a soft murmur of surprise.

  Sara followed her gaze and spotted a tall, lean man in a Ridge County Sheriff’s Department uniform standing in the open doorway of the meeting room. His gaze swept over the room, meeting Sara’s briefly before it settled on a couple who stood in the corner, talking to Coach Allen and his wife, Becky. The lawman moved through the buzzing crowd with long, determined strides until he reached the couple, a pretty dark-haired woman in her mid-forties and a balding man maybe a year or two older. They turned and looked at him with a combination of surprise and worry.

  “Who’s the deputy?” Sara whispered to Kelly.

  “Not a deputy. It’s the new sheriff himself, Max Clanton.”

  Sara’s stomach tightened. A visit from the sheriff himself, looking so grim, couldn’t mean anything good.

  A moment later, a terrible wail rose from the corner, and the dark-haired woman sank to her knees, her hands over her eyes. Kelly grabbed Sara’s arm, her grip tight. Whispers rippled through the crowd, radiating out from the tight cluster in the corner.

  “Their daughter Ariel,” someone nearby murmured just loudly enough for Sara to hear. “Someone found her dead at the base of Crybaby Falls.”

  Chapter Six

  Sara’s father paced the well-worn carpet in the middle of his den, his jaw working with frustration. He stopped suddenly, pinning Sara to her chair with the force of his gaze. “You don’t know where Cain Dennison was before seven o’clock last night, do you?”

  “He’s not a likely suspect, Dad.”

  “You don’t know that. He’s been back in town almost two weeks now. God only knows what he’s been up to all that time.”

  “You want me to find out?”

  Carl frowned at her. “You’re not a cop anymore.”

  “Neither are you,” she pointed out reasonably, but her answer only deepened his frown.

  “Maybe I would be if that new sheriff hadn’t come to town.”

  “He didn’t force you out, did he?”

  Carl sighed, sinking into the armchair across from her. “No. I just saw the writing on the wall. Everything’s technology-based these days. Legwork and good old-fashioned instinct aren’t valuable commodities anymore.”

  “And your instincts are telling you that Cain Dennison killed an eighteen-year-old girl he didn’t even know?”

  “You don’t know he didn’t know her.”

  “And you don’t know he did.” Sara leaned forward, putting her hand on her father’s arm. “If she hadn’t been found at the base of Crybaby Falls, would it even have occurred to you to suspect Dennison?”

  “No. But she was. And that’s too damned close to what happened to Renee Lindsey.”

  “I know.” She sat back, her own stomach in a tight knot. She’d gone to the get-together the night before hoping to find a new suspect in Renee’s murder. But now, she was beginning to wonder if what she’d found, instead, was a brand-new wrinkle to the old mystery.

  Could the two murders, eighteen years apart, be connected? The most recent murder victim, Ariel Burke, had been an infant when Renee Lindsey had died. Was it really possible the same person had killed both women? Or had someone copied Purgatory’s most infamous unsolved murder to throw the cops off the trail?

  “I wish I could tag along for the investigation,” she murmured. She saw a similar longing shining in her father’s dark eyes.

  “You could always apply for a job at the sheriff’s department,” Carl pointed out.

  “Don’t give her any ideas.” Sara’s mother stood in the doorway of the den, her hands on her hips. “Carl, Brad Ellis is here.”

  Sara glanced at her father. “Brad Ellis from the cop shop?”

  “Send him on back,” Carl said.

  Ann gave her husband a troubled look before she left.

  “Is he still with the sheriff’s department?” Sara asked.

  “Sure am, Scooter,” a familiar voice boomed from behind her.

  Sara turned to see her father’s old partner standing in the doorway, a grin carving lines into his rugged face. Returning the grin, she jumped up to give him a hug. “I swear, if you weren’t already married to the prettiest woman in Ridge County, I’d have a go at you myself.”

  “And if I weren’t married to the best shot in Ridge County, I might take you up on it.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then looked at Carl. His grin faded. “Sarge.”

  “I take it this isn’t a friendly visit?”

  Leaving his arm draped over Sara’s shoulders, Brad shook his head. “’Fraid not. I need to pick your brain about an old case.”

  “The Renee Lindsey murder?” Sara asked.

  Brad gave her a sharp look. “I really shouldn’t say—”

  “She was a cop for years. In fact, your new sheriff would be a fool not to snatch her up and make her your new lead investigator.” Her father’s voice was edged with pride that made Sara’s chest swell a little. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say to her.”

  Brad gave her a long, considering look, a hint of apology in his eyes when he finally said, “I reckon I’m still thinking of you as that kid with braces and skinned-up knees who used to tag along after your daddy everywhere he went.”

  “Lost the braces years ago. Wish I could say the same about the skinned-up knees.” She waved him toward the chair she’d occupied when he arrived, taking the wide ottoman next to her father’s chair.

  Brad settled his muscular bulk into the chair and leaned forward as Carl sat across from him. “Y’all know a hiker found Ariel Burke’s body at the base of Crybaby Falls last night, I reckon.”

  Carl and Sara nodded in unison.

  “The medical examiner conducted the autopsy this morning. Cause of death was ligature strangulation.”

  Same C.O.D. as Renee Lindsey, Sara thought. “Is that why you need Dad’s help? Because it’s so similar to what happened to Renee Lindsey, and Dad was the principal investigator on that case?”

  Brad passed one large hand across his mouth, as if he was reluctant to answer. Sara’s gut tightened as she realized there was something else, something that made Brad look damned near haunted.

  “Ariel Burke was two months pregnant.”

  Carl spat out a profanity Sara had never heard him use before.

  “You’re doing a DNA test to determine paternity?” she asked.

  Brad nodded. “She broke up with her boyfriend about two months ago, so we’re looking real hard at him, of course, but—”

  “Has anyone talked to Cain Dennison?” Carl interrupted.

  Sara looked at her father. “Dad—”

  “First person we questioned,” Brad answered. “He alibied out.”

  “Alibis can be faked.”

  “He’s not the killer, Carl.” Brad’s voice took on a soothing tone that Sara knew would probably infuriate her father. “Ariel Burke’s parents saw her yesterday morning at eleven when she left to go to cheerleader practice at the high school. She was there until just after one. So we know she couldn’t have been killed before then. But from one to five yesterday, Dennison was at a training seminar at The Gates. Ten different agents there can account for h
is whereabouts, and there’s video evidence, as well. The M.E. says Ariel Burke’s time of death was around four yesterday afternoon. There’s no way Dennison was involved.”

  “It doesn’t mean he didn’t kill Renee Lindsey.”

  “It doesn’t,” Brad agreed. “But right now, we have to look at the possibility that the same person who killed Renee also killed Ariel. The similarities between the murders—”

  “Could be a coincidence,” Carl finished for him.

  “Could be. That’s why I’m here. You know more about the Renee Lindsey murder than anyone else. The sheriff wants you to consult on the investigation.”

  Carl looked at Sara, his expression hard to read. When he spoke, she could hear the conflict in his tone. “I promised Ann when I retired that I’d stay retired.”

  “You won’t be policing. You’ll be consulting.”

  “You don’t know what that case did to me.”

  “I remember,” Brad said quietly. “I might not have been on the force when it happened, but I worked with you for nearly fifteen years. I know it haunted you. It haunted the whole sheriff’s department.”

  Sara closed her eyes, remembering the way her father had obsessed over that one unsolved murder, as if he took her death as a personal affront.

  Maybe he had, in a way. He’d liked Donnie, treated him like a son. He’d seen the way the murder had shattered Donnie’s family, transformed his parents from confident, socially active people to haunted recluses whose only social interactions revolved around memorializing their murdered daughter.

  “Okay. I’ll consult. But not for a fee.”

  “The sheriff will insist.”

  “Tell him to put my fee in the sheriff’s benevolence fund.”

  Brad nodded. “He wants you at the station this afternoon at three. You’ll be there?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Brad rose and shook Carl’s hand. Sara walked him to the door, her father trailing behind.

  Ann eyed them warily as they passed through the kitchen on their way to the front door. For the first time since she’d come back to Purgatory, Sara wondered just how much pressure her father’s job had put on his marriage while she wasn’t paying attention.

  “Rita told me to remind you about next Saturday,” Brad said to Sara’s mother, who was looking at Sara’s father with troubled eyes.

  Ann turned her gaze to Brad. “Right. Tell her I’ll be there by four.” She managed a weak smile.

  Brad turned to Sara and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. “Good to see you back in town, Scooter. Think you’ll stick around?”

  “We’ll see,” Sara answered with a smile.

  After Brad had gone, she turned to look at her parents. They were staring at each other across the kitchen, tension brewing between them like a mountain storm.

  “I can be your go-between,” Sara said. “You don’t even have to step foot in the cop shop.”

  Both of her parents turned to look at her. “You were all wrapped up in Donnie and his reaction. You don’t remember what it was like for your father,” Ann said.

  “You’re right. I don’t.” Sara put her hand on her father’s shoulder, surprised to feel a tremble in his muscles. She looked up at him, saw the haunted look in his eyes, and felt an answering shiver run through her. “Dad, if this is going to be a problem—”

  “I let her down.” Carl looked at her, his eyes dark with regret. “I let you down. And Donnie. Don’t you think I know what brought y’all here the night of the accident? He was still looking for his sister’s killer.”

  “I thought you didn’t know why we were here.”

  “I didn’t know what you were doing while you were here. But you weren’t here to see us. And Donnie’s parents said you didn’t come to see them, either. So there was only one possible reason left.”

  “Did that poor girl’s murder have something to do with Renee’s murder?” Ann asked. “Is that why Brad was here?”

  “We don’t know,” Sara answered honestly.

  The look her mother shot her way sent a flutter of guilt rippling through her chest. “You’re getting sucked into this, too, aren’t you?”

  “We need answers,” Carl said quietly.

  “Can’t someone else get the answers? Why does it have to be the two of you?”

  Sara looked at her father, feeling helpless. She knew her mother’s concern was fueled by the same kind of love that had driven Donnie to seek his sister’s killer with relentless abandon.

  “If I’d been killed when I was eighteen,” she said softly, “would you be able to put my unsolved murder behind you and move on with your life?”

  Her mother blanched as if Sara had struck her. “God, Sara.”

  “That’s what Donnie was dealing with. I may not know what it was like with Dad and the case, but I know what it was like for Donnie all those years.” She crossed to her mother and took her hands. “I don’t remember the night of the accident, and until I get some answers about it, I’m going to keep thinking it was my fault somehow. I know he came here because of Renee’s murder. But the details are hidden from me, and I can’t live with that.”

  Ann closed her eyes, emotional pain lining her pretty face. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

  Sara hugged her. “Dad and I will watch each other’s backs. I promise.”

  Ann’s arms tightened around Sara’s waist, pulling her closer. “I’m glad you’re back in town, for however long you stay. I’ve missed you more than you know.”

  Guilt crept back, a reminder of how much she’d closed herself off from everyone she loved over the past three years. She’d come back to Purgatory because she didn’t have anywhere else to go, but the longer she stayed, the more she realized just how much she’d missed her little hometown while she was gone.

  “I think I’m pretty glad to be back, too,” she admitted, giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. Letting go, she turned to her father. “Let me be your liaison with the sheriff’s department, Dad. It’ll give me a good excuse to get in on the investigation, and it’ll make Mom happy. Win-win.”

  Her father managed a grudging smile. “Got it all figured out, have you?”

  “She’s your daughter,” Ann said.

  By the time they sat down at the kitchen table for a lunch of soup and sandwiches, the earlier tension had mostly disappeared, and the conversation wandered away from murder to talk of high-school football—Purgatory High was supposed to be a contender for a state championship in their division—and the upcoming Mountain Moms charity hoedown. “Rita roped me into helping with the setup down at the civic center,” Ann told Sara with a rueful smile. “I knew I shouldn’t have retired early. Apparently it makes me the go-to gal for anything around town that requires a volunteer.”

  “Don’t let her fool you—she’s about as excited about that hoedown as Rita is.” Carl shot his wife an affectionate smile. “She’s everybody’s hero, too, because she talked the Meades from up in Kentucky to come down to play for the dancing.”

  Sara raised her eyebrows at her mother. “Wow, the Meades, huh? I thought they never left that little place of theirs in Cumberland.” When she and her brother, Patrick, were younger, her parents had taken them up to the Meade Motor Inn in Cumberland, Kentucky, several times to take in the live bluegrass music. “Remember how Patrick decided he wanted to be a banjo player and join the Meades?”

  Her father grimaced. “That banjo cost us a fortune and he never picked it up again after the first try.”

  “I never made it as a singer, either,” Sara said with mock regret. “So how’d you score the coup, Mom?”

  “Last time your dad and I were up there, I got to talking to Nola Meade. Seems her kids are wanting to go mainstream with their music once they’re old enough to leave the nest, so Nola and Del figured it might be good for their future careers if the family got out of Kentucky now and then to give the kids some exposure. So when Rita tasked me with finding a band for the hoedo
wn, I gave Nola a call.”

  “Yeah, little Purgatory, Tennessee’s going to give those kids a lot of exposure,” Sara said with an arch of her eyebrow.

  Ann smiled placidly. “Well, see, Beeson Lombard of MuCity Records happens to be a Purgatory native. We went to high school together. So when I called up my old high-school friend—”

  “Boyfriend,” her father elaborated with a grumble.

  “—and told him I was helping organize a Smoky Mountain charity fund-raiser and could get him a hot new country act to listen to if he’d like to show up for the event,” Ann continued with a smile, “how could he say no?”

  “Oh, you’re good at this,” Sara said with a grin. “No wonder you get roped into organizing things.”

  “You’re still going to be around this weekend, aren’t you?” Ann asked. “You should come. You love the Meades.”

  “I’ll come,” Sara said, though it was her desire to please her mother more than her love for the Meades and their bluegrass that made the decision for her. After the stress of the Purgatory High School get-together, and the tragic finale of that particular social outing, Sara wasn’t in a hurry to crawl out of her hermit hole again anytime soon.

  By the time she headed back to her grandfather’s cabin to resume her cleaning, her parents were mostly back to their smiling, affectionate selves, lightening her mood as she navigated the twisting road up to her inherited cabin. She almost felt like her old self for the first time since the accident.

  She should have known it couldn’t last.

  As she topped the last rise and the cabin came into view, she saw a dark blue Ford F-150 truck parked in the gravel drive. Its driver sat on the steps of the cabin’s sprawling front porch, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her park her truck and slide from the cab.

  “You lost?” she asked as she slowly approached the porch steps.

  Cain looked up at her, eyes squinting against the afternoon sun slanting through the evergreens that cocooned the cabin. “No. I asked for directions.”