The Dark Woods (Winchester, Tn. Book 2)

by Debra Webb

  He winked. “That’s what I want to hear.”

  He stood. “Come on. I’ll take you home. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  The drive to her grandmother’s house was quiet but it was a comfortable silence. Sasha felt content with the decisions they had made. When he’d parked in front of the house and reached for his door, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Now I have some ground rules.”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  “I don’t need you to walk me to the door and I can open my own door.” When he would have argued, she held up a hand and went on. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. Also, I pay for my own meals.”

  He made a face. “You’re being unreason—”

  “No exceptions. Tomorrow I pay since you paid tonight.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

  “I don’t mind keeping you informed of where I am—it makes sense. But I am a strong woman, Branch. I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  “Thank you.” She reached for her door. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  She climbed out of his truck, closed the door and walked straight to the front door without looking back. He didn’t leave until she had unlocked the door and gone inside. She supposed she couldn’t complain about that part.

  Inside, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes to slow the spinning in her head. She really was in trouble here. She wanted Branch Holloway in a completely selfish way.

  Sasha had developed a reputation for never giving in or giving up. She was relentless. Other than her time with her daughter, she had no personal life. Honestly, she could not remember the last time she’d been intimate. She wasn’t an idiot. She understood the core issue at play here. Years of depriving herself had made her weak, had caused her to be vulnerable.

  This was not a good time to be vulnerable.

  But Branch made her want things she shouldn’t want. All he had to do was walk into the room. He didn’t even have to look at her. The very act of breathing was somehow sexy on him.

  “Idiot.”

  Sasha pushed away from the door, locked it and headed upstairs. She needed to hear Brianne’s voice, and then she intended to have a long hot bath and to get some sleep.

  Whatever else tomorrow brought, she had to be prepared for spending time with the man without making a mistake that would impact her daughter.

  She’d already made one too many of those.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday, March 26

  Sasha’s eyes opened.

  It was still dark. She reached for her cell on the bedside table.

  2:06 glowed from the screen.

  She closed her eyes and told her brain to go back to sleep. It was too early.

  The whisper of a sound, the slide of a rubber sole across a wood floor, fabric swiped against a painted wall. Just a little swoosh.

  Her eyes flew open again.

  This time the darkness closed in on her, squashing the air from her lungs.

  Heart pounding, she sat up, grabbed her cell. Her fingers instantly poised to enter 911.

  Wait. She needed to take a breath and listen. Ensure she hadn’t dreamed the sounds. She struggled to calm her racing heart and to quiet the sound of blood roaring through her veins.

  The squeak of a floorboard...another soft whisper of a footfall.

  Someone was definitely in the house.

  She tapped Branch’s name in her contact list as she hurried soundlessly across the room. Holding her breath, she opened the closet door. Thank God it didn’t squeak. She burrowed as deeply inside as possible, pulling the door soundlessly shut behind her.

  “Hey—” Branch’s voice echoed sleepily in her ear “—what’s up?”

  She turned her back to the door and whispered, “Someone is in the house.”

  “Hang up and call 911. I’ll be right there.”

  She did as he asked and tried to flatten herself against the back wall behind the clothes from high school that still hung in her closet.

  The dispatcher came on the line with her practiced spiel. Sasha gave her address and situation.

  “Officers are on the way to your home, Ms. Lenoir. Where in the house are you?”

  “Second floor, third door on the left. I’m in the closet.”

  “Good. Are you armed?”

  Another brush of sound. This one on the stairs.

  “What?” she murmured.

  The dispatcher repeated the question.

  “No.” What she would give for a weapon. “Wait.” Sasha used her free hand to feel through the darkness until her fingers tightened on the item she hoped to find. “I have my baton.”

  It was the baton she’d used in junior high. Just over two feet long and with a classic star ball on each end. A whack to the face or chest or private area could disable a man.

  As long as he didn’t have a gun.

  Her fingers tightened around the baton.

  Pounding echoed through the house.

  Sasha’s heart nearly stalled.

  “Sasha! It’s Branch. I’m coming in.”

  The door was locked. How would he get in?

  “The police are turning into your driveway now, Ms. Lenoir.”

  Sasha tried to think. “US Marshal Branch Holloway is at the front door. I called him first. Should I go down and let him in?”

  “Stay where you are, ma’am.”

  “Sasha!”

  She couldn’t just stay hidden like this. She opened the door and eased out of the closet. The moonlight coming in through the window had her blinking after being in total darkness for several minutes.

  Standing very still, she listened for sound. Besides Branch’s pounding she heard nothing else.

  She burst out of her room and rushed down the stairs. “I’m coming.”

  A crash in the kitchen froze her feet to the floor.

  For a single second she wanted to run after the sound. Good sense took over and she rushed to the front door instead and unlocked it for Branch.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I heard something in the kitchen just now.”

  “Stay close behind me.”

  Sasha fell into step right behind him. He flipped lights on as they went. Once in the kitchen he stopped. She bumped into his back.

  “The back door is standing open,” Branch said.

  Sasha leaned past his shoulder, saw a uniformed police officer coming through the wide-open door. She had locked that door. She was certain of it.

  “My partner’s going over the yard,” the officer said. “Are you clear in here?”

  “I’ll make sure. You take the exterior.”

  The officer disappeared into the darkness. That was when Sasha saw Branch’s weapon.

  Her breath caught.

  Branch reached back with his free hand and gave her arm a squeeze. “I want you to stay close behind me while we look around inside. I’m confident the intruder is gone but let’s not take any chances.”

  It wasn’t until they had cleared the dining room and family room as well as the powder room that she realized she had dropped her cell phone. It lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

  She grabbed it. “I don’t think he came upstairs. I think that was his intention but your pounding on the front door stopped him.”

  As they climbed, Branch asked, “Do you have reason to believe the intruder was a he?”

  “Well, no. I’m just assuming.”

  “He didn’t speak or make any sounds?”

  “I heard the sound of his clothing brushing the wall or a piece of furniture and the whisper of his shoe so
les on the floor.”

  “What woke you up?” He entered the first bedroom, the one her grandmother had always used for a guest room.

  “I guess the sound of him moving about downstairs. I thought I imagined it, so I tried to go back to sleep. Then I heard it again. Really soft sounds.”

  They checked each room and found nothing.

  “Now let’s have a look downstairs and see if anything is missing?”

  “Okay.”

  One side of his mouth hitched up into a grin. “Nice weapon.”

  Her fingers loosened slightly on the baton. “One of the girls on my team knocked a guy out with her baton.”

  He laughed. “I think I remember hearing about that. Gave him a concussion, didn’t she?”

  “That part was a rumor, I think.”

  “Marshal Holloway, I’m coming in.”

  Sasha turned toward the front door as it opened and one of the officers stepped inside. Since Branch was armed, the officer announcing his intentions was a smart move.

  “We have a secondary scene outside.”

  Sasha wasn’t certain what the term secondary scene meant but she was confident it wasn’t a good thing.

  “Stay inside with Ms. Lenoir and I’ll have a look.”

  “Excuse me,” she protested. “I would like to see this secondary scene, as well.”

  Branch looked to the officer, who said, “The yard is clear, Marshal.”

  “Take a second look around inside,” Branch suggested. “Ms. Lenoir and I will talk to your partner outside.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stay close,” Branch cautioned again.

  She followed him outside, down the steps and around the corner of the house. Obviously this secondary scene was in the backyard. The other uniformed officer was waiting near the porch.

  “The perpetrator entered through the rear door,” the young man, who couldn’t be more than twenty-five, said. “There’s evidence the lock was disabled.”

  “Good work, Officer Gabrielle. What else did you find?”

  Gabrielle shone his flashlight onto the wall near the far end of the porch. Words had been spray-painted on the siding.

  You were supposed to die that night...

  For several seconds Sasha could only stare at the words; they wouldn’t assimilate in her brain... Then suddenly they did. Her heart bumped against her sternum.

  “I think you can safely say that you’ve kicked a hornet’s nest,” Branch announced.

  Where’s the kid? the man with the deep voice demanded.

  At a friend’s. She’s not here. Her mother’s voice. Terror pulsed in every syllable. She’s a child. She doesn’t know anything!

  Sasha turned to Branch. “Whoever left that message was in the house that night. He knows I was supposed to die, too, but my mother told them I was at a friend’s.”

  A sinking feeling had her knees going weak. Sasha steadied herself. At least now there was no question about what happened that night and it was no longer only dependent upon her unreliable memories. This was evidence.

  Someone had murdered her parents.

  * * *

  DAYLIGHT HAD ARRIVED by the time the evidence collectors had come and gone. Sasha had made two pots of coffee and dragged out the leftover pastries from the gathering on Sunday evening.

  She stood in the backyard staring at the words that had been sprayed with red spray paint. You were supposed to die that night...

  Why did it matter to her parents’ killer if she lived or died?

  What could she have possibly known that counted for anything?

  Had she seen the killer before? Was it someone she knew when she was a child?

  She needed more coffee. In the dining room the pastries were mostly gone but there was still coffee. She’d had to set up in the dining room since the kitchen was a crime scene.

  Crime scene.

  She shuddered. No one should have to go through something like that twice in a lifetime. In New York she had a security system. Maybe she should have one installed here.

  Should she sell the house at the same time she sold the Lenoir home place?

  She hadn’t really thought that far into the future. She had to talk to Brianne. This was her legacy, too.

  Sasha poured the coffee and went back outside via the front door. Halfway around the house she ran into Branch and another man wearing a cowboy hat. Wait—she knew him. She just couldn’t place his face.

  “Sasha, this is Chief of Police Billy Brannigan.”

  She extended her hand. “I remember you. You played football for Tennessee.”

  “I did.” He gave her hand a quick shake.

  All of Winchester had celebrated when he made the cut. “Did your forensic people find anything useful?”

  “Well—” he pushed his hat up a little and settled his hands on his hips “—it’s too early to tell just yet, but I did want to speak with you about the case you and Branch are investigating.”

  Sasha glanced at Branch.

  “We should talk inside,” he offered.

  Sasha led the way to the family room. She closed the French doors to the dining room as well as the door to the kitchen. She turned back to the two men waiting for her attention.

  “Why don’t we sit,” Brannigan offered.

  “Of course.” Sasha hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. Her brain was hardly working.

  They settled around the coffee table, Branch on the sofa with her, Brannigan in the chair directly across from them.

  “Ms. Lenoir—”

  “Sasha,” she protested.

  “Sasha,” he amended, “it’s clear you’ve awakened a sleeping bear.”

  That was one way to put it. “It’s also clear that my father didn’t kill my mother or himself.”

  “I certainly believe we have justifiable cause to officially reopen the case.”

  Sasha barely restrained a cheer.

  “We’ve established more than justifiable cause, Chief,” Branch argued. “We’ve proven reasonable doubt in the initial findings. If there were any questions, the message outside should have alleviated those.”

  Brannigan nodded. “I agree, but I also understand that there are plenty of folks who like to stir trouble. It’s possible someone you’ve spoken to—” this he said to Sasha “—has decided to give legs to your case. Folks were divided twenty-seven years ago. There were those who believed your daddy was guilty and those who were certain he was innocent. Your digging around in the past is the perfect opportunity to turn the tide of things in the direction they believed was the right one to begin with.”

  As much as Sasha wanted to dispute his assertion, his conclusion was reasonable and logical. Even in a small town people took sides in controversies, especially those that involved lifelong members of the community and murder.

  “What’re you suggesting we do moving forward?” Branch asked, his tone as pointed as his expression. He obviously wasn’t happy with where this was going.

  Sasha spoke first. “Chief, I respect your thoughts on the matter but I have every intention of continuing my search for the truth. I’m well aware that as long as I don’t break any laws or cause any obstruction of any sort that I can do as I please.”

  Branch turned his hands up. “I’m on vacation and I intend to help her do exactly that—in a completely unofficial capacity, of course.”

  Brannigan looked from one to the other. “Well, I won’t waste my time trying to talk you out of it. I will, however, need the case file back so I can reopen the investigation.”

  “Do we have time to make a copy?”

  Brannigan’s lips formed a grim line. “It was one thing when this was a cold case, Branch. This is now an official police investigation. I can’t have copies all over the place. We should step back and do this right
. You know the drill as well as I do. Whatever we find, we don’t want a simple technicality to cause trouble in the courtroom.”

  “I understand,” Branch conceded. “The case file is at my house. I’ll have it at your office before noon.”

  Sasha wanted to argue with him but decided to save her frustration for when it was just the two of them. A united front was what she needed right now. She was an outsider, no matter how many years her family had resided here. Branch was one of them and he was a member of law enforcement. Besides, the case file wasn’t at his house; it was here. She trusted that he had good reason for not sharing that information with the chief.

  In the end, they would figure this out, with or without the file.

  “Thanks, Branch. I’ll make sure Cindy is on the lookout for it. I’ll have a meeting with my detectives and get the ball rolling and I’ll keep you informed as well as I can.”

  “I appreciate it, Billy.”

  Brannigan stood and settled his hat back into place. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Lenoir.” He nodded to her and then to the other man. “Branch.”

  Branch followed him to the front door. Sasha strained to hear anything one or both might say.

  “Keep an eye on her, Branch,” Brannigan warned. “Obviously there is some danger here. I’m not sure she understands how complicated this could get.”

  “I’ll keep her safe,” Branch guaranteed. “A situation like this morning won’t happen again.”

  When Branch returned to the family room, Sasha opened her mouth to protest having to turn over the file without a copy but Branch held up his hand for her to wait. He went back to the entry hall and checked out the window. When he returned to where she waited, he kept his voice low.

  “We have a few minutes before Billy will become suspicious. Where’s the case file?”

  “In my bedroom. I put it in the closet.” She shrugged. “Just in case.”

  “Good idea.”

  As they climbed the stairs, she whispered to him, “If he won’t allow us to make a copy—”

  “We can’t make a copy but he didn’t say anything about taking photos.”

  Sasha smiled for the first time today. “Smart thinking.”