by Rita Herron
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.”
Tawny-Lynn’s gaze met his. She’d never heard the authority’s theories or if they had any suspects. The sheriff had expected her to have the answers.
“Any leads on the driver of the vehicle who hit us?”
He shook his head. “A small paint sample was taken, but it got lost in the mess that came afterward.”
A strained silence fell over them as Hilda brought their food. Chaz poured syrup on his pancakes and wolfed them down, while she made a breakfast sandwich with the eggs, biscuit and sausage. He was right. The biscuit melted in her mouth.
“Any more trouble last night?”
“No, thank goodness.”
He sipped his coffee. “How’d you get into town?”
“Daddy’s truck. It’s old but it made it.” She stirred sweetener into her coffee. “Guess I’ll need to sell it, too.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll just give it away. I doubt it’s worth anything.”
She felt someone beside them, then looked up at Coach Wake who’d stopped by the table. “Tawny-Lynn, I was sorry about your father. Are you here to stay and run the ranch?”
Her stomach clenched. She’d once loved softball more than anything in her life. The coach had been her and Peyton and Ruth’s idol.
Now he was a reminder of the worst day of her life, and softball was a sport she couldn’t stand to watch.
* * *
CHAZ FELT TAWNY-LYNN shutting down before his eyes. She’d been devouring her breakfast, but dropped the biscuit onto her plate and sipped her water.
“No, I’m not staying,” she said, her voice warbling. “The ranch hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time.”
Coach Wake glanced at Chaz, then at Tawny-Lynn as if he were trying to dissect their relationship.
“Then you’re going to sell it?” the coach asked.
Tawny-Lynn nodded. “Just as soon as I clean it up.”
Coach Wake shifted as someone else passed by. “If you need help, Keith Plumbing can use the work. He did some repairs around my house. My wife thought he was reliable and did a good job.”
Tawny-Lynn twisted her napkin into shreds. “Thanks for the reference.”
“No problem.”
Two teenage girls brushed by, then stopped to speak to the coach, both of them giggling. “Hey, Coach, thought you said you were laying off Donna’s gravy.”
He patted his stomach. “I need the calories to keep up with you girls. We’re doing sprints this afternoon.”
The girls groaned, then the redheaded one checked her watch. “We gotta go. We’re going to miss first bell.”
They rushed off, and Coach Wake rubbed his stomach. “Well, guess I’d better get to school. We have practice this afternoon. Did you know we made the play-offs?”
Tawny-Lynn took another sip of her coffee. “I saw the announcement on the marquis in front of the school on my way in to town. Congratulations.”
The coach’s smile broadened. “We’ve got a good team. But I haven’t had a pitcher like you since you left. Stop by and watch the drills if you want. You could show the girls a thing or two.”
“I don’t think I’ll have time, but thanks,” she said. “I have my work cut out for me.”
“Okay, but the offer still stands.” He said goodbye to Chaz, then headed toward the door, but two women stopped him to chat on his way out. At least the coach had been friendly to Tawny-Lynn and hadn’t treated her like a piranha like other people did.
If he remembered correctly, she’d been the star of the team and had won the game for them that last day.
His sister had adored the coach, too, just like all the girls had. And Coach Wake had cried like a baby at the funerals of the girls who hadn’t survived the crash. He’d also been a leader in organizing search parties for Ruth and Peyton in the days following their disappearance.
“Are you okay?” Chaz asked.
A weary sigh escaped Tawny-Lynn. “Yes. But seeing him reminds me of...”
“Peyton and that day.”
She nodded, her eyes glittering with tears as she looked up at him. His heart ached for her. Had anyone comforted her after the crash?
Did she have a boyfriend back in Austin?
He motioned to Hilda to bring the bill. It didn’t matter to him if she did have a boyfriend. She didn’t want to be here in town, and he had a job to do.
He wouldn’t let himself even think about a relationship with anyone until this case was solved and he gave his parents closure about Ruth.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN NEEDED some air. The conversation with Coach Wake had stirred memories she tried hard to keep at bay.
Heck, everything about the town roused memories.
The diner was starting to clear as everyone paid their checks and left for work. A young man with blond hair, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt strode up to the table just as Chaz reached for the bill. Her fingers touched it at the same time and that annoying frisson of awareness sent a tingle through her.
“Chaz?”
“I’ve got it,” he said with a look that warned her not to argue.
“Hey, Sheriff,” the blond man said. “I got your message.”
Chaz shook the guy’s hand. “Yeah, Jimmy, this is Tawny-Lynn—the woman I told you about. She owns White Forks and needs new locks.”
His eyes flashed a smile at her as he tipped his cowboy hat. He was handsome in a rugged, good-old-boy kind of way. “Hey, ma’am. I’m Jimmy James, I own the locksmith shop.”
Tawny-Lynn shook his hand, annoyed that his hand didn’t make her tingle.
No, only Chaz Camden’s touch made her body quiver. The one man in town she could never be close to.
“I can get to those locks right away if you want.”
“Thanks. I’m going to pick up some groceries, then head back out to the ranch.”
He handed her his business card. “Give me a call when you get home, and I’ll run out.”
Home? White Forks was not her home anymore. But she didn’t argue. She accepted his card, then sat stiffly as Chaz paid the bill. They walked outside to her father’s truck together. Chaz leaned against it as she dug out her keys.
“I don’t know if you should use Keith Plumbing to do those repairs.” His mouth twitched into a frown. “There’s something about the man that rubs me the wrong way.”
“What?”
Chaz shrugged. “I don’t know. Bu
t he was questioned after Ruth and Peyton went missing.”
Tawny-Lynn jerked her head up. “You mean he was a suspect?”
“He was a person of interest,” Chaz said. “He did some odd jobs for my parents, and he’d worked in Sunset Mesa around the same time the two girls went missing from that area.”
Tawny-Lynn gritted her teeth. She didn’t remember the man.
“How about the ranch? Did he do repairs there?”
Chaz shook his head. “Not according to your father.”
“Was anyone else questioned as a suspect?”
“Barry Dothan,” Chaz said. “Do you remember him? He was my age, but is mentally handicapped.”
“I do remember seeing him around town. He was odd, used to hang out by the field and watch us practice,” Tawny-Lynn said.
Chaz shrugged. “The sheriff found pictures of all the girls on the softball team and swim team plastered on his walls. But his mother claimed he was home the day of the crash.”
“You think she’d lie to protect him?”
“That’s hard to say. He has problems. She feels protective.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt anyone.”
“Maybe not intentionally. But he could have gotten confused. Maybe he showed up and Peyton and Ruth were hurt and scared of him. He got mad. There were rocks out there. He could have used one on Ruth or Peyton.”
And if her sister and Ruth had been injured, they might have been too weak to fight back.
“If he did hurt them, then why didn’t you find their bodies? Surely, he wasn’t smart enough to hide them somewhere.”
“That’s the reason the sheriff didn’t think he did it,” Chaz said. “And the reason he was never arrested.” Chaz reached for the truck door to open it for her. “I’m telling you so you’ll watch out for him and Plumbing. If one of them had something to do with Ruth’s and Peyton’s disappearance, he might be worried about your memory returning.”
Tawny-Lynn nodded. But she didn’t intend to run like the person who’d written those bloody messages wanted.
If Plumbing or Barry Dothan knew something, she’d find out. She needed to know the truth in order to move on.
Chapter Seven
Tawny-Lynn left the diner, then walked across the street to the general store. She should have thought to buy groceries the night before, but she’d been overwhelmed by the dust and mess, and her only thought had been about cleaning.
She grabbed a cart as she entered, reminding herself that although she enjoyed cooking, she didn’t have time for fancy meals and wouldn’t be entertaining anyone. Most of her time would be spent cleaning out the house and working in the yard. She didn’t plan to be at White Forks long. Maybe a week, no more.
Once she put the ranch on the market, she’d go back to Austin, and let the real-estate agent handle the rest.
She gathered coffee and sweetener, eggs, milk, cereal, bread, cheese, sandwich meat, added a few canned goods and soups, then decided to pick up ingredients to fix her favorite chili and nacho pie. Both would make enough to last her a couple of nights and were simple to prepare.
Relying on her favorite go-to recipes, she dropped in corn, black beans, tomatoes, tortillas and seasonings, then sour cream, avocados and limes to make guacamole.
The store was fairly empty, but as she rounded the corner to the produce section, she almost bumped into a middle-aged woman with an overflowing cart. A gray-haired man she assumed to be the woman’s husband plucked a bag of oranges from a display table.
He scratched at his forehead when he spotted her. “Tawny-Lynn, is that you?”
Her hands tightened around the cart. “Sheriff Simmons?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not the sheriff anymore. Retired a couple of years ago. Chaz Camden took over.”
“Yes, I know. I saw Chaz earlier.”
Mrs. Simmons eyed her over her wire-rimmed glasses. “Sorry about your daddy, dear.”
“Thanks.” People probably judged her for not honoring him with a memorial service. Yet another reason for people to disapprove of her.
“What have you been doing with yourself?” Mr. Simmons asked.
“I started a landscaping business in Austin. I just came back to take care of the ranch.”
He squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry we never found out what happened to Peyton and Ruth. That case will always haunt me.”
Her throat thickened with emotions. “I know you did your best.”
“Did your memory of that day ever return?” Mrs. Simmons asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
Tawny-Lynn shook her head. “No. I guess the doctor was wrong when he said the amnesia was temporary.”
Guilt crawled through her, making her itch to run again. She gripped the cart and started away. “Well, it was nice to see you. I have to get back to the ranch.”
“Nice to see you, too,” the Simmonses said at once.
At least they’d been cordial to her, Tawny-Lynn thought, as she grabbed some fruit and headed to the checkout counter. The last time she’d talked to the sheriff he’d come out to the ranch when she’d been released from the hospital.
Everyone in town was hounding him to find Ruth and Peyton and get answers for the dead girls, and he’d interrogated her as if she’d caused the accident herself.
She paid for the groceries, then carried them outside and loaded them in her car. But as she pulled away, an eerie sense crept over her.
Was someone watching her?
She looked around, searching, but didn’t see anyone suspicious. A mother and her baby strolling in the park, a family climbing into their SUV, an elderly man walking into the hardware store leaning on a horsehead cane.
She was just being paranoid.
Still, she stayed alert as she drove through town, then found herself driving the opposite direction from home, out on Dirt Dauber Road, a road named after the mud daubers that had built nests in the cylinder of a small plane, causing it to crash. Oddly, that crash had occurred only a mile from where the school bus had collided into the boulder below the ridge.
Perspiration beaded on her neck as she parked, but she took a deep breath to calm herself. She had visited this site twice during the year after the accident, each time hoping it would trigger her memory.
Both times she’d had such panic attacks that she’d collapsed.
She was not going to do that today. She had to hold it together.
Determined, she walked over to the edge of the ridge. The guardrail had not only been repaired, but a sturdier metal one that was at least four inches higher had replaced it. Still the distance to the bottom of the ravine was daunting.
The wind stirred the leaves in the trees, their rustling sound mingling with the rumble of the brewing storm. The skies had darkened again, blotting out the sun.
She stared at the boulder below, an image of the bus teetering over the edge flashing into her mind. Was that a memory or simply a figment of her imagination due to the pictures and descriptions she’d seen?
A scream echoed in her head and she closed her eyes for a moment, launching back in time.
The ball game, the victory, they were going to get pizza, Ruth and Peyton whispering about some guy...then the jolt.
Had she looked back to see what had hit them?
No...no time. The bus lurched forward, was losing control. Screams, blood, glass shattering, metal scraping... then a loud crunch. She was falling, falling, struggling to grab hold of something to keep from going through the glass...
Then pain and she couldn’t move, and...darkness. Then hands touching her, a low voice whispering she would be all right. Fresh air hit her, and she gulped, her chest aching as she drew in a breath. But when she opened her eyes the face was dark. Blank. As if wearing a mask.
>
No, not a mask. As if there was no face...
* * *
SHE OPENED HER eyes, her breathing coming in erratic pants. Why couldn’t she see the face?
Frustrated, she kicked at a rock and watched it tumble down the dirt into the ravine.
Suddenly that eerie feeling swept over her again, and she felt someone behind her. Watching her.
She must be paranoid, she reminded herself.
But when she glanced over her shoulder, a shadow moved. Trees rustled. Leaves crunched.
It wasn’t her imagination this time. A man was standing in the shadows, half hidden by the thick trees.
Not just any man—Barry Dothan.
And he was taking pictures of her from his hiding spot in the woods.
* * *
CHAZ DROVE TO Sunset Mesa and parked at the sheriff’s office. He’d phoned ahead and Amanda Blair, the new sheriff of Sunset Mesa, had agreed to meet him.
He smelled coffee brewing as he entered and found a young woman in her twenties with amber hair pulled back into a ponytail pouring a mug at the scarred counter across from the front desk. She was petite but athletic looking, and as she turned, he noticed a steely glint in her eyes.
She might be compact, but her attitude screamed that she was tough and could handle the job.
He tipped his hat. “I’m here to meet the sheriff.”
She offered him a smile. “I’m the sheriff, Amanda Blair.” She extended her hand, and he shook it. “And don’t even start with how young I look. My father was a Texas Ranger. I started solving crimes when I was in diapers.”
He chuckled. “Sheriff Chaz Camden. Thanks for agreeing to meet me. And I wasn’t going to comment on your age.”
Her wry look indicated she knew he was lying. “Right.” She gestured toward the coffee, and he nodded, then waited while she poured him a mug. Then she led him to a desk in an adjoining office.
“What can I do for you, Chaz?”
He liked her directness and dropped into a wooden chair across from her desk. “I don’t know if your former sheriff shared information about our cold case with you.”
She drummed her nails on the desk. “He didn’t, but then again, Lager was having memory problems.” She sighed. “The mayor gave him a lot of leeway, but finally they had to ask him to step down.”