by C. B. Clark
“Come on, Declan, who picked you up and drove you back to the party? You must remember.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried to remember? My recollection is a complete blank. I figure someone passing through town picked me up and drove me out there.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If someone from Cooper’s Ridge had given me a ride, they’d have come forward when they heard what happened to Skye. Wouldn’t they?”
“Maybe.” Caruthers tapped his fingers on the table as he sat deep in thought. “Maybe not.” He studied Declan. “What happened once you arrived at the farm?”
“I told you, I don’t remember. I must have found my truck somehow and started driving around. I woke up the next morning feeling worse than shit. I had a cut on my head, and the front end of my truck was buried in a haystack in the middle of some farmer’s field.” He rubbed his face. “When I returned to town the next afternoon, the sheriff was waiting for me at my house.”
He closed his eyes, remembering his surprise at learning Skye was missing. No one had seen her since the party the night before. He was even more shocked when the police made it clear they thought he had something to do with her disappearance. At first, they’d questioned him at home, but when they’d found her body the following day, they’d hauled him into the police station, and the real grilling began.
Over the next two months they’d questioned him repeatedly. No matter how often he’d protested his innocence, no one believed him. At one point, he’d even been held overnight in a cell in the basement of the Sheriff’s Office before being released for lack of evidence.
“Why didn’t you hire a lawyer? The police were hounding you. They wouldn’t have been able to if you’d had legal representation.”
Declan’s mouth twisted. “Lawyers cost money. I didn’t have any, and my parents sure as hell weren’t offering to help. Besides, what was the point? The sheriff was so damn certain I murdered Skye, not a single lawyer in the County would have been willing to help me. Even if one had stepped forward, I wouldn’t have hired him. Skye was dead because of me, because I was wasted. I deserved whatever they threw at me.”
Caruthers’ eyes narrowed. “So why are you now trying to prove your innocence? What’s changed?”
“I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself. Finding out who murdered Skye and putting the killer behind bars for the rest of his life is more important than my hurt feelings and bruised ego.”
“You probably should contact a lawyer.”
Resignation washed over Declan, and he nodded, Caruthers’ warning clear. Now he’d found a piece of Skye’s scarf, he’d need some serious legal help if he planned to stay out of jail.
Caruthers placed the file folder in his briefcase, closed the lid with a snap and slid out of his seat. “Any thoughts on who might want to frame you for this?” He grabbed his coat hanging on a hook at the end of the booth and raised his heavy brows. “Well? At this point, I’ll take any suggestions.”
Declan shook his head. “I wasn’t the most popular kid in those days, but I can’t think of anyone who’d hate me enough to do this to me.”
“Think harder. Someone in this town has a serious dislike for you.”
Declan wet his lips. When he thought of who’d want to see him suffer, only one name came to mind—Carrie Ann Hetherington.
As if reading his mind, Caruthers said, “My investigation would be a lot easier if your ex-girlfriend would talk to me. Any chance of you putting in a good word for me?”
Declan snorted.
“That bad, is it?”
“You have no idea.”
Chapter 13
Declan watched the private investigator walk out of the restaurant. The other diners stopped eating and broke off their conversations to watch him, too. The glass door swung closed behind the burly investigator, and their attention swiveled back to Declan.
From the second he’d stepped out of his truck when he’d arrived back in Cooper’s Ridge three days ago, he’d faced a wall of fear, distrust, and outright animosity; part and parcel of being the town pariah. He’d experienced the hostility before, and he’d expected it again. He hadn’t come back for a holiday.
Even though no one in Dallas knew of the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head, he did. After years of acting like a gutless pussy, he needed to move on with his life. To do that, he had to find Skye’s murderer and clear his name.
He threaded his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the suspicious glances directed at him. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he wouldn’t eat. Not here. The waitress hadn’t approached his table in all the time he’d been in the small café.
He watched as she served plates of steaming pierogies and sausages to a table of two, bustled over to another group of diners, took their food orders, and cleared dirty dishes from a nearby table, all the while ignoring him. He was tempted to demand she take his order, but being right wasn’t worth the hassle. He grabbed his coat from the seat beside him and stood to leave.
The door to the café opened, and Sheldon strolled into the restaurant. After a quick glance around, he caught sight of Declan, waved, and hurried over. “I heard you were here.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the same hook Caruthers had used and slid into the booth.
Declan sank back onto his seat. “Let me guess…the Cooper’s Ridge gossip brigade.”
Sheldon grinned. “Who else?”
Secrets didn’t exist in this damn town. Declan let out a discouraged breath. Everyone knew what everyone else was doing. Except regarding one person. He thought of his conversation with Jessup Caruthers. Someone in this town had a secret—a big secret. Someone in Cooper’s Ridge was a vicious murderer.
“Have you eaten?” Sheldon asked.
He shook his head.
“Let’s order. I’m starving.”
“You go ahead. I was just leaving.” Declan pointed at the waitress who stood behind the counter, arms crossed over her sagging bosom, watching them, making no move to take their order. “I don’t think they want my business.”
Sheldon looked where Declan pointed. His cheeks flushed. “This is not right, man.” He rose from the booth.
Declan held out his hand to stop him. “Forget it. It’s not worth it.”
“You’re not a criminal. You haven’t been charged with anything, let alone convicted.” Sheldon’s voice rose. “This is bullshit!” He glared at the other diners.
Most stared back, but a few turned away as if uncomfortable with what was happening.
Declan let out a discouraged breath. Life sure has changed. Now Sheldon was sticking up for him. In elementary school and all through high school, he’d been the one who’d protected Sheldon from an unending stream of bullies. Sheldon attracted trouble, like flies to a dead fish. Maybe it was his loud mouth, or his cocky attitude, but whatever the reason, he was often on the bad side of the worst kids in school. He reminded Declan of one of those toy dogs people carry around in their purses, small, yappy, and ready to bite at the slightest provocation.
“What?” Sheldon demanded, still shooting daggers with his eyes at the other diners. He pointed at a heavily bearded man seated at a table near the front of the restaurant. “Do you have a problem, Ewan?”
Declan grabbed Sheldon’s arm, stopping him from charging over. “Let it go,” he said quietly.
Sheldon’s eyes gleamed in his eagerness for battle. “Are you sure? I mean, this isn’t right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
“Let it go.”
Sheldon mouthed an obscenity and sank back on his seat. “Okay, if you’re sure. But it’s not right. It’s just not right.”
They sat in silence as the conversations of the other diners gradually resumed, though Declan still felt the burn of their condemning gazes. His thoughts turned to his recent confrontation with Carrie Ann. He could have handled the situation better, but for some reason, he’d felt the need to burst into her bedroom and start hurling on
e accusation after another. Not cool. Definitely not cool.
He didn’t really believe she’d texted him and hidden the torn piece of scarf for him to find. He’d needed to take his frustration out on someone, and she was the obvious choice. All his pain and devastation led back to her.
“Hey, man, are you listening?”
He rubbed his head in an attempt to erase the image of her wounded eyes when he’d accused her of trying to set him up. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I asked you why you came back.”
“I told you. I want to clear my name.”
“I understand, but why now, why after all these years?”
“Don’t you think it’s time?”
“You’ve made a life for yourself in Dallas, a good life. You own a successful business. No one in Dallas knows what happened in this little backwater town. No one cares. Even if they were to find out about Skye’s murder, it’s ancient history. You were never charged with any crime. You’re innocent. You know it. I know it. Isn’t that enough?”
Declan shook his head. “You have it all wrong. If someone found out, where would I be? My business is built on trust. Who would trust a man with their hard-earned money if he has a murder charge hanging over his head?”
Sheldon tore a paper napkin from the metal dispenser on the table and folded the napkin into a fan shape. “Why now? Why not five years ago?”
Declan sighed for the hundredth time today. “I guess you could say, I finally saw the light.”
“You found religion?” Sheldon’s attempt at humor fell flat.
“I finally realized this wasn’t just about me. Somebody murdered Skye. Her killer’s been walking around free and clear for twelve years. If I’d stuck up for myself back then, if I’d retained a lawyer, maybe the police would have considered other suspects. They might have even caught the guy who killed her.”
“I doubt it, man. They had a real hard-on for you. They weren’t interested in looking at anyone else.”
“Even so, they would have had to at least make an attempt to dig deeper into the case. Instead, I rolled over like a cowed dog, and let them beat me again and again. I played right into the killer’s plans.”
Sheldon pressed a hand on Declan’s arm and squeezed. “You’ve gotta stop blaming yourself, man. You were a kid. Everyone was against you, even your damn parents. What else could you do?”
“I could have thought of Skye, instead of feeling sorry for myself. She was my friend. She deserved better.”
“You’re here now.”
Declan nodded. “I intend to find who murdered her and see the bastard pays for what he did.”
“And this has nothing to do with Carrie Ann? Her being back in town is a coincidence?”
Declan scowled. Did this have anything to do with Carrie Ann? She was all he’d thought of since the first night they’d run into each other. Her name lingered on his every breath. Night after night he lay awake tortured by visions of her laughing, talking, loving. Even now, when he should be focusing on finding Skye’s murderer, an image of a pair of cat’s eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes floated before him. He felt the weight of Sheldon’s sharp gaze, and a flash of heat burned through him. “This has nothing to do with Carrie Ann.” He tried to put force into his statement. “Absolutely nothing.”
Sheldon smirked. “Really? And you actually believe that?”
Declan bit back another sharp denial.
Silence hung between them as Sheldon continued to fold and refold the paper napkin. “I hate to bring this up, man, but what if you can’t find the evidence you’re looking for? What if, after all this, nothing changes?”
He didn’t like to think what would happen if he struck out and nothing changed, but what Sheldon suggested was a real possibility. He’d known coming back to Cooper’s Ridge and finding Skye’s murderer after all these years, was a long shot. He could still end up the prime suspect. “That’s not an option. I’m not leaving Cooper’s Ridge until I find her murderer.”
“But—”
“Look around you.” Declan pointed at a group of women sitting at a table in the far corner of the restaurant who were sneaking peeks at him and talking in excited whispers.
A man glared from another table.
“People think I killed her. I intend to prove them wrong.”
“Well, then I guess we’d better find the evidence to clear you.”
Declan’s throat thickened. “Thanks, buddy. Before I finish in this town, the truth will be out. Everyone will know Declan McAllister is an innocent man.”
****
Carrie Ann took a deep breath and opened the front door.
Jessup Caruthers’ broad frame filled the doorway.
“Thanks for coming, Mr. Caruthers.” She stepped aside and ushered him into the house.
“Jessup, ma’am. Call me Jessup.”
She met his stony gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and she shivered. He’d stop at nothing to get to the truth. Declan had chosen wisely when he’d hired this man to help him. “Okay, Jessup.” She took his coat, hung it on the hall coat stand, and led the way to the living room. They were alone. She’d waited until Vivian and Leland had left for work before she’d called him.
Jessup’s gaze was cool and assessing.
She pointed to a floral-patterned, stuffed chair beside the fireplace. “Sit there, if you like.”
He squeezed his long legs and broad shoulders into the tight space, dwarfing the small chair.
She perched across from him on the edge of a matching chair. “Thank you for coming.”
He nodded.
She wiped her damp palms on her pants. “You wanted to ask me about Declan.”
His penetrating gaze met hers.
She shuddered, wishing her palms would stop sweating.
“Why are you willing to talk to me now?” he asked. “The last time I approached you, you refused.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
She squirmed on the chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “Declan didn’t kill Skye Lawrence.”
“Okay, so what made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t change my mind. I’ve always known he was innocent.”
“So, I ask you again, why have you now decided to talk with me?”
“I don’t feel right standing by while an innocent man is wrongly accused.” She shifted in her chair.
“But you were okay with doing the same thing twelve years ago.”
“I was a child. I didn’t understand what my leaving town would mean for Declan…what would happen…there were things…stuff…going on in my life…” Her voice died away as she realized what she’d almost said.
“What things?” His blue eyes were unblinking.
She fought the urge to run, to escape his probing gaze. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I agreed to tell you what I know. Let’s get on with your questions.”
Again the infuriating nod, as if he’d read far more into her words than she’d intended. “Tell me what happened the night Skye Lawrence was murdered.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she began. “Declan and I had a fight a few days before Skye disappeared.” She met his gaze and shivered. It was as if he listened with every cell in his big body. “We broke up, and he asked Skye to Prom. I was upset, and didn’t go. I couldn’t face him with her on his arm, knowing everyone was talking about us, feeling sorry for me.” She shrugged. “You know how things were in high school. Everything was big drama.”
He didn’t speak.
After a few heartbeats, she continued. “Anyway, I was pretty broken up over what had happened. I locked myself in my bedroom, ate a box of chocolates and cried myself to sleep.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “I thought it would help ease the pain.” She met his gaze. “It didn’t.”
He nodded, a glint of understanding softening the hard lines of his face. “You didn’t go to the after-party at
the farm either?”
She shook her head.
“But you did go to the farm later, after everyone had left.”
She puffed out a breath. “I was in bed. It was late. Sheldon Dubrowski called me. He told me Declan was drunk, and he’d driven him home from the party. He was in bad shape. Sheldon was worried Declan would do something foolish.”
“Why?”
She turned away from those all-seeing eyes. “You have no idea what Declan’s life was like. His dad was the town drunk. He drank all the time, and when he was drunk, he used Declan and his mother as punching bags. It was awful.” She shuddered. “It’s why I was so worried when Sheldon told me Declan was drunk.” She rubbed her damp palms on her pants again as if she could erase the memory. “He didn’t drink. He saw what alcohol did to his father, and he didn’t want to be like him.”
“But he had a temper like his father.”
She shook her head. “He’d get angry sometimes, but only if he saw someone mistreating someone else. Declan always stuck up for the underdog.”
“So he was a saint.”
“I didn’t say he was perfect. Declan had a lot to overcome. He was in fights…lots of them, but he always had a good reason. Not everyone understood that.”
“What happened after Sheldon called you?”
“Declan showed up at my house. He was hammered. I heard him pounding on our door, but Vivian refused to let him talk to me. At first I was glad she wouldn’t let him in. I didn’t want to see him, but after Sheldon’s call, I was concerned. I knew Declan was upset.” She swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Later, I snuck out, and borrowed Vivian’s car and drove over to his house. He wasn’t home, but Sheldon had told me Declan had left his truck at the farm. I knew he’d want his truck. When he was upset, he’d go for long drives to cool down.”
“So you drove out to the farm?”
She nodded.
“What time was this?”
“I don’t know…late…around three in the morning, I think.”
“Did you pass any other cars?”
“I don’t think so. I wanted to get to the farm before Declan left. From what Sheldon told me, he was way too wasted to drive.”