by Rita Herron
Most likely a man.
“How about the prints?”
“The only ones we found were Boulder’s and his daughter’s.”
Chaz was frustrated but not surprised.
“Sorry, I know that’s not much help.”
“This perp is covering his tracks,” Chaz said. “But I’ll catch him sooner or later.” He just hoped it was before the creep tried to make good on his threats and hurt Tawny-Lynn.
His conversation with his father echoed in his head, and he went to tell Tawny-Lynn that he was leaving.
He needed to have a talk with his old man.
But there was no reason his father wouldn’t want Tawny-Lynn to remember. In fact, he’d driven the theory that she’d been hiding something and demanded she stop faking the amnesia.
But his father didn’t want her here, and he had a hunting rifle. Deer hunting was his sport.
Then he’d talk to Barry Dothan about those pictures and see if he was stalking Tawny-Lynn.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN SHIVERED as she stepped into her sister’s old room. It was as if she’d walked back in time.
Peyton had always been his favorite because she was more of a girly-girl, and her room reflected her personality.
Though she and her father had argued those last few months. Mostly about the length of Peyton’s skirts, her makeup and boyfriends. Peyton had been hormonal, determined to date when their father told her no, and had snuck out several times late at night.
Her father had also found her slipping alcohol from the house.
Twice, she’d come in so drunk she could barely walk, and Tawny-Lynn had covered for her. She and her sister had argued the next day, and Tawny-Lynn had begged her sister to stop acting out.
Peyton had yelled that she was almost eighteen, that she was in love, and that she’d do whatever she pleased.
A couple of weeks later, she’d run in crying one night, and when Tawny-Lynn asked what was wrong, Peyton refused to talk.
She’d figured it was boyfriend trouble, but then she’d heard Peyton and Ruth arguing over the phone later, and thought the two of them had had a falling out. But Peyton had never shared what had upset her or what happened between her and Ruth.
She slid into the desk chair in the corner and searched the drawers, finding assorted junk—spiral notebooks with old algebra problems, a science notebook, movie ticket stubs, old hair bows, ribbons and report cards. Peyton had been an average student, but popular because of her good looks.
She checked the other drawers and found a few photographs of her sister and Ruth. The two of them at pep rallies, Peyton playing midfield, Peyton in her homecoming dress, Ruth in hers on the homecoming court.
Her finger brushed the edge of something, and she discovered another photo jammed between two school albums.
Her heart squeezed as she stared at the picture. It was Peyton, her and their mother. Peyton had probably been two and she was an infant. Her mother was smiling as she cradled her in her arms.
Tawny-Lynn wiped at a tear and placed the photo in her pocket to keep. If her mother had lived, how would their lives been different? Would her father have stayed away from the bottle?
Satisfied the desk held no clues, she checked the nightstand by the bed. Her sister had kept a diary, but Tawny-Lynn searched for it after Peyton disappeared and never found it. It could have been in her gym bag in the bus and burned in the fire.
Another lead lost.
In the drawer beneath an old compact and brush, she found a box of condoms. She opened the box of twelve and noted they were half gone. Peyton had always had boyfriends, but she hadn’t known her sister was sexually active.
Who had she been sleeping with?
Hoping to find some clue about the mysterious boyfriend or the missing diary, she rummaged through the closet, searching the shoeboxes on the floor but found nothing but sneakers, sandals, flip-flops and a pair of black dress shoes.
Deciding it was time to throw out her sister’s clothes—she could donate them to the church along with her father’s belongings—she gathered several garbage bags and began pulling sweaters, shirts and jeans off the shelves and rack and dumping them inside.
She spotted Peyton’s letter jacket and pulled it off the hanger, but a folded scrap of paper fell from the pocket. She opened the note and read it.
Dear Peyton,
Please don’t leave me. I love you, and you said you loved me. Call me tonight.
Love & Kisses,
J.J.
Tawny-Lynn struggled to remember J.J.’s last name. The class yearbooks were in the desk drawer, so she grabbed the latest one and searched the names and photos from the senior class.
J.J. McMullen.
Yes, Peyton had been dating him around Christmastime.
Did he still live around town?
She used her smart phone to look up his number and found a James McMullen living right outside town. She punched his number but a woman answered. “Hello?”
Tawny-Lynn wiped dust from her jeans. “I’m looking for James McMullen.”
“He’s at work. Who is this?”
A baby’s cry echoed somewhere in the background.
“Where does he work?”
“At the meat market in town. Now who is this?”
Tawny-Lynn didn’t reply. She hung up, trying to picture the dark-haired boy who Peyton had once dated butchering meat all day, but the image didn’t fit.
But his father had owned the place so he must have gone to work with him.
She finished cleaning out the closet, then stripped the dusty bedcovers and stuffed them in another bag. The notebooks and papers went into the trash. When she finished, she dragged the bags downstairs.
“I’m finished down here,” Jimmy said. “I’ll check the windows upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
She hauled the bags of clothes outside, tossed them into the pickup truck and headed to the church. She dropped the bags with the secretary, thinking the woman looked familiar, but she didn’t take the time to introduce herself.
Ten minutes later, she parked in front of the meat market and went inside. Glass cases held dozens of cuts of beef, pork and chicken while shelves to the side were filled with homegrown vegetables, sauces and spices.
An older man with a receding hairline stood behind the counter, his apron stained.
“Mr. McMullen?” Tawny-Lynn asked.
His reading glasses wobbled as he peered over the counter at her. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
“I’d like to talk to your son, J.J.”
The man frowned, but yelled his son’s name. A second later, J.J. appeared, looking more like his father than she remembered. Maybe it was the receding hairline or the nose that was slightly crooked. The bloody apron didn’t help.
“Tawny-Lynn?” J.J. said, his eyes widening in recognition.
She nodded, then removed the note and gestured for him to take it. He rounded the counter and leaned against the potato bin as he read it.
“You were the last guy I remember dating Peyton before she disappeared.”
His sharp gaze jerked toward her. “You think I had something to do with that?”
“No,” Tawny-Lynn said, although the anger in his tone made her wonder. Had he been questioned seven years ago?
“In the note, you were asking her not to leave you. What happened?”
He cut his eyes toward his father, then shoved the note back in her hands. “She dumped me, that’s what happened. She found someone else.”
“Did she say who it was?”
He shook his head, his anger palpable. “No, but I got the impression it was an older man. She kept saying that it was complicated, but that he was sophisticated a
nd he’d take care of her. That one day they’d get married.” His gaze met hers. “Hell, when she went missing, I thought maybe she ran off with him.”
Tawny-Lynn had heard that rumor. But the sheriff had found no evidence to substantiate the theory.
It was complicated.
What if her sister had been seeing an older man, maybe a married man? If she told J.J. her intentions of marrying, maybe Peyton had pressured him to leave his wife.
Would he have hurt her sister to keep their affair quiet?
Chapter Nine
Chaz should have been relieved that the messages had been written in animal blood instead of human blood, but the fact that someone had threatened an innocent woman in his town infuriated him.
He parked in front of the bank and strode in, then headed straight to his father’s office, but the secretary stopped him on the way.
“He’s not here. He went home to have lunch with your mother.”
That was a surprise. But it probably meant that he’d found some discrepancy in their finances and wanted to interrogate his mother. Gerome Camden was a control freak who had made a fortune because he obsessed over every penny, kept his wife on a tight budget and didn’t allow frivolities.
Except where Ruth had been concerned. He’d doted on her and spoiled her rotten.
Chaz drove to his parents’ house, tossing a quick wave to the gardener trimming the shrubs, then buzzed the doorbell. He didn’t wait for the maid to answer, but had only buzzed to alert them he was on his way.
His boots clicked on the polished-marble floor in the entryway as he crossed to the dining room. His mother looked up with a smile, her china teacup halfway to her mouth. “Chaz, this is a surprise.” She started to rise. “I’ll get Harriet to bring you a plate.”
“No thanks, Mom, I’m not here to eat.” He crossed the room and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Of course you’ll eat with us,” his father said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Chaz rounded on him. He hated to broach this subject in front of his mother, but if anyone could calm his father—and keep him from doing something stupid to Tawny-Lynn—she could. Where Gerome Camden ruled the finances, Beverly Camden ruled the house and had impeccable manners and morals.
“What’s going on?” his mother asked.
Chaz set the file he’d brought with him on the table in front of his father. “When Dad heard Tawny-Lynn Boulder was coming back to town, he paid me a visit and ordered me to run her out of town.”
“What?” His mother fanned her face. “Gerome, you didn’t.”
Guilt streaked his father’s face. “We suffered enough seven years ago because of that girl. I didn’t want her stirring up old hurts.”
“You act as if she caused the bus accident,” his mother chided. “She lost her sister, too, and she spent a week in the hospital.”
“That’s right.” Chaz opened the folder and spread out the photos of the bloody messages. “When she arrived, she found this on the mirror in her room. That night someone ran her off the road into a ditch.” He tapped the photo of the bathroom wall. “Then someone left this.”
“Is that blood?” his mother asked.
Chaz nodded. “Rabbit blood on the mirror. Deer blood on the wall.” He showed them the picture of the bloody deer carcass. “When she got home from the grocery store today, this was waiting for her.”
His mother made a choked sound and grabbed her water, but his father simply glared at him. “I told you no one wanted her here.”
“Did you do this, Dad? Or did you hire someone to?”
His father slammed both hands on the table, jarring the silverware. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing. Just look how you’ve upset your mother.”
Chaz planted his fists on his hips. “I’m not going anywhere until you answer my question.”
“Chaz, you can’t really believe—”
“Mother, please, let him answer.” Chaz turned to his father. “I know that you want Tawny-Lynn gone. Did you set this up to scare her off?”
“Of course not.” His father shoved the pictures back into Chaz’s hands. “Now take these offensive things and get them out of here.”
Chaz gripped the folder. “I hope you’re being honest, Dad. Because if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll be back.”
He mumbled an apology to his mother, then strode toward the door. Behind him, he heard ice clinking in a glass as his father fixed himself a scotch.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN TRIED to remember the names of Peyton’s other friends.
The softball team had been Tawny-Lynn’s core group, and she’d been devastated at the deaths of her fellow teammates.
But Peyton had run in several groups. She’d chaired the prom committee her junior year, had worked on the class yearbook and joined the dance team during football season.
Cindy Miller, the cheerleading captain, had invited Peyton to a sleepover a few weeks before the accident. Desperate, Tawny-Lynn looked up the girls’ name online and found her home address, so she called the number.
“Mrs. Miller speaking.”
“Can I speak to Cindy please?”
“Cindy’s not here. She’s at her house. Who is this?”
Tawny-Lynn hesitated over revealing her name. “I’m calling from the high school reunion committee. We had a worm in the system that trashed our files, and we lost married names and current contact information.”
“Oh, well, Cindy wouldn’t miss a high school reunion for anything. She married Donny Parker from the class two years ahead of her. They live outside Camden Crossing in one of the homes on the lake. Donny developed the property himself.”
So they were probably rolling in money. “That’s wonderful. Can I have her phone number and address? And oh, if she works, I’d like that number, too.”
She scribbled down the numbers as Cindy’s mother read them off.
“Cindy doesn’t work. She stays home with the twins.”
Tawny-Lynn rolled her eyes. She probably had a nanny and spent her days at the tennis courts.
“Thanks. I’ll give her a call.” She disconnected, then wheeled the truck toward the lake. The storm clouds brewing all day looked darker as she passed farmland that would soon be rich with crops. White Forks once had a nice garden but her father had let it dry up along ago.
A few wildflowers had sprouted along the entrance to the lake community, the sign swaying in the wind. She followed the road through the wooded lots, noting that it was new and most of them weren’t developed yet. No doubt expensive homes would be popping up, drawing newcomers to Camden Crossing.
Those lots would need landscaping. Designs rose to her mind, but she squashed the thought. No one in Camden Crossing would likely hire her to design their properties. No use in even going there.
She passed an estate lot where the house sat back in the woods and realized it was the address she was looking for. A personalized sign with the name Parker on it dangled from the mailbox, and as she veered down the driveway tall trees surrounded her, offering privacy and shade from the relentless Texas sun.
The stucco-and-stone house looked like a lodge nestled in the woods, and a BMW was parked in the garage. Beside the house, a boat ramp held a customized pontoon. Tawny-Lynn walked up the cobblestone steps leading to the front door and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, a commotion sounded inside with the sound of children squealing.
When the door opened, a pair of redheaded little boys stared up at her, their faces streaked in something that looked suspiciously like mud but smelled like chocolate pudding. She guessed them to be about four years old.
“Boys, I told you not to open the door!”
Tawny-Lynn swallowed her surprise when Cindy appeared. Maybe it was baby weigh
t, but she’d gained at least thirty pounds.
“Tawny-Lynn?” Cindy said in a croaked whisper.
“Hi, Cindy. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
“How could I forget?” The annoyance at the boys morphed into a wary look. Cindy did not look happy to see her.
“Mind if I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
“I can’t imagine what about,” Cindy said warily.
Bored, the boys took off running up the winding staircase behind them, screaming as they went.
“Please,” she said. “I’m only back for a few days to get my father’s ranch ready to sell.”
Cindy bit her lower lip, shifting from one foot to the other as if struggling with her thoughts. Finally she motioned for her to come in.
“You have a gorgeous place,” Tawny-Lynn said. “Your mother said you married Donny Parker, that he built these houses.”
Nerves flashed in Cindy’s eyes. “You talked to my mother?”
“I was just trying to remember some of Peyton’s old friends.”
Cindy’s brown eyes widened. “Why? Have you heard from your sister?”
Tawny-Lynn fought the temptation to fidget as she took a seat on a leather sofa in the giant-size den. The view of the lake was magnificent, reminiscent of a postcard.
Cindy seemed to have everything in life. So why did she seem so anxious?
“No. Have you?”
Cindy raked kids’ toys off the couch. “No, of course not. I just thought...maybe you found out what happened to her and Ruth.”
“That’s why I’m asking questions,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I talked to J.J. McMullen earlier and he said that Peyton broke up with him for an older guy. He hinted that he thought the man might have been married. Did she ever mention anything to you about a man she was seeing?”
The sound of the children tearing down the stairs echoed in the cavernous house, and Cindy jumped up. “No, I don’t remember that. Now I really need to take care of the boys. It’s time for their karate lesson.”
Tawny-Lynn stood, wondering if the boys really had a lesson, or if Cindy just wanted to get rid of her.