The Dark Woods (Winchester, Tn. Book 2)

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The Dark Woods (Winchester, Tn. Book 2) Page 14

by Debra Webb


  Rey studied her a moment. “How’s it going with Branch? I’ve wanted to ask but...”

  Sasha’s grandmother and Rey were the only ones who knew who Brianne’s father was. Both had sworn never to tell, though her grandmother had warned on numerous occasions that she felt Sasha was making a mistake.

  Her grandmother had been a smart lady. Sasha had made a mistake.

  “It’s going well. He’s a great guy and...” She shrugged. “I see every day that I’m here how I misjudged him. I should have listened to my grandmother.”

  “And me,” Rey reminded her. “I always believed Branch would have jumped in with both feet to help with his child.”

  Sasha shook her head. “I was just so young and I had so many plans. I didn’t want to throw away my dreams for married life. I was on fire to make my mark.”

  “No one said you had to get married.” Rey smiled. “Anyway, you certainly made your mark, my friend.”

  Sasha laughed, the sound weary. “I definitely have.” She shook her head. “But you know how it was back then. Branch would have expected us to raise her together. His family would have expected the same, plus a marriage. Certainly my grandmother would have. I can see my shortsightedness now, but at the time I could only see the future I had planned and it wasn’t here, Rey. You know that. We both wanted out of this town—the sooner the better.”

  Rey sank back into the booth. “You’re right. After what happened between me and Colt, I couldn’t imagine ever coming back, much less ending up with him again under any circumstances.”

  Sasha felt her lips curl into a real smile. “It’s amazing is what it is. You two are great together. I’m glad you came back and ended up a couple again.”

  “The same could happen for you,” Rey suggested.

  “I’m afraid my situation is a bit more complicated with a daughter who already believes she owns the world. I can’t bring myself to pull the rug from under her.” Sasha shook her head. “I can’t bear the idea of her hating me for the decision I made.”

  Rey reached across the table and squeezed Sasha’s hand. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

  “Hope so.”

  Her forearms braced on the table, Rey leaned forward. “As for this investigation, when we figure out what your mom and dad had on Packard, we’re going to take him down. I, for one, can’t wait. He’s always been an arrogant son of a gun.”

  “What if it’s not him?”

  “Then it’ll be someone like him,” Rey argued. “There are some people in this world to whom human life means nothing. To kill someone standing in the way of their ultimate goal is like swatting a fly. Whoever did this, we’re going to ensure he pays.”

  “Branch said he planned to visit my mother’s office—her former office—and dig around. Find out who was doing what that year.”

  “Branch is a smart man,” Rey said. “I’m doing a little digging in that area myself. Between the two of us, if there was something going on, we’ll find it.”

  “There were a lot of big projects during that time frame. The stadium, the hospital.”

  “That decade changed the face of this city,” Rey agreed. “At least one of them created a lethal ripple. We just have to figure out which one.”

  She made it sound so easy.

  Sasha checked the time. “I should go. I’m staking out Farr’s office. I intend to catch him today. If he doesn’t show I’m going to his home.”

  Rey grinned. “Let me know if you decide to go to the man’s house. I’ve always wanted to see inside that lake mansion of his.”

  “You’re on,” Sasha assured her.

  They paid their checks and parted ways on the sidewalk. Rey walked back to the newspaper office and Sasha climbed into her rental and headed for Farr’s office. It was near the hospital, only a few short miles away from where she was. She made the necessary turns around the downtown square and then drove past the towering Packard building. The hospital was only a couple of miles beyond that iconic structure. Though the hospital was certainly not Packard’s biggest development in terms of money, it was the most prestigious. Directly across the street from the hospital stood a row of boutique medical suites, one of which Farr used as an office. Sasha parked in the lot that flanked the cleverly decorated Victorian-style buildings.

  To her surprise the entry door for the one on the west end was unlocked. An alarm chimed somewhere beyond the lobby as she walked inside. The interior was elegantly decorated and well-appointed. Four chairs and two Duncan Phyfe tables, along with a magazine rack, made up the tiny lobby. Distinguished-looking artwork adorned the walls. There were two doors, one to the left marked Restroom and one at the rear marked Dr. Bruce Farr. Evidently he did not have a receptionist or secretary. Sasha crossed the room and had just raised her hand to knock on the door carrying his name when it opened.

  Dr. Bruce Farr blinked behind the thick lenses of his eyeglasses. “May I help you?”

  “Dr. Farr?” She asked the question though she knew it was him. She had done a Google search. Though tall and distinguished in stature, his hair had grayed and thinned to near nonexistence. His skin was mottled, making him look even older in person.

  “Yes, I am Dr. Farr, but I’m not taking new patients. I haven’t taken new patients in nearly thirty years. I would be happy to recommend others in the area.”

  “You’re retired, I know,” Sasha said. “You serve on the board at the hospital and you continue to see a handful of longtime patients but otherwise you’re retired.”

  His brow lined in heavy ruts. “What is it you want?”

  “My name is Sasha Lenoir,” she said, feeling immensely proud to inform him of this fact. “I’m here to discuss the evaluation you conducted when I was nine after my parents were murdered.”

  For several long seconds he stared at her. During most of those Sasha was convinced he would refuse to answer. But then he said, “I remember the case.”

  “Good. I have questions for you, Doctor.”

  Once more, he stared at her for an extended time. Just when she had decided he would say he didn’t have time, he gestured to his office. “Very well. Please join me in my office. I don’t have an appointment for a few minutes. I’ll answer what I can until then.”

  He turned and walked deeper into his office, leaving the door open for her to follow. Sasha instinctively glanced over her shoulder before going inside.

  “Close the door, please.”

  She did as he asked and then crossed the room to his desk. He indicated the lone chair waiting on her side of the desk and she sat. What remained of his once dark hair was completely gray. His eyes were a matching shade of pale gray, cold and unforgiving. She had clips of memory related to him, but none that were complete. Most were nothing more than pieces. Snippets of conversation. Him asking questions. Him staring unblinkingly at her.

  “What would you like to know, Ms. Lenoir?”

  “You concluded that I was making up the voices I heard the night my parents were murdered. I heard those voices, Dr. Farr. According to the county coroner, I spoke of them that very night and I told the chief of police about them a few days later. I know what I heard. Why would you insist they were my imagination at play?”

  He held her gaze a long moment. “You were a very frightened and traumatized little girl. You cannot trust your memories from that painful time.”

  It wasn’t necessary to be a shrink to know someone who had in part witnessed the murder of her parents would be traumatized and frightened. “Of course I was, but my memories are very solid from that night. You were wrong, Dr. Farr.”

  “You are entitled to your opinion, Ms. Lenoir, but my professional opinion hasn’t changed. If you’ve come here to try to change my mind, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”

  “Actually, it’s irrelevant to me whether I change your mind, Dr.
Farr. My question is, who paid you to conclude I was lying? I know it was someone with a large personal stake in the matter of whether or not my story held up in court. Perhaps Jarvis Packard or Seth Keegan. Maybe Hadden Roark.”

  For a moment he looked stunned, as if he couldn’t believe she had voiced her accusations by listing names, or perhaps because she had hit the nail on the head, so to speak.

  “You’re grasping at straws, Sasha. May I call you Sasha?”

  Now he was just patronizing her. “No, you may not.” She laughed. “As for my grasping at straws, perhaps when my search for the truth began, that was true. Not anymore. Now I have proof.”

  The tiniest hint of uncertainty flared in his eyes before he could school the reaction. Oh, yes, he knew plenty about that night, just as she suspected Leandra Brennan did.

  “I’m certain if you possessed proof of what you believe, you would be sitting in the chief of police’s office rather than mine.”

  “Actually, Chief Brannigan believes me, too,” she countered. “In fact, he has reopened the case. Additionally, Marshal Branch Holloway is looking into the case, as well. Everyone knows my parents were murdered. It’s time for you to speak up while you still can. I feel confident there are options for a man in your position, Dr. Farr.”

  She was overstepping her bounds, she knew, but the words tumbled out.

  “Maybe you’re simply having trouble letting go of the past, Ms. Lenoir.” Dr. Farr nodded as if privy to some knowledge she did not possess. “Your mother had a similar issue, which seems to be why she could not let go of the best friend who caused her husband to stray. Such self-destructive behavior.” Farr stood. “I’m afraid that’s all the time I have, Ms. Lenoir. I wish you the best of luck in your pursuit.”

  Scarcely restraining the fury smoldering inside her, Sasha removed a business card from her purse and placed it on the man’s desk. “Call me—or Chief Brannigan, if you prefer—when you decide you want to tell the truth, Dr. Farr.”

  She walked out of the office and climbed into her rental. If she had ever been more angry and frustrated, she had no recall of the event. She drove around for a few minutes, considered going to visit Leandra Brennan again. Branch had said he was following up on her, so Sasha drove on. Besides, she didn’t trust herself to speak to the woman right now. Not after what Farr said.

  Was it possible the arrogant man was correct? Had her father cheated with her mother’s best friend? This didn’t make sense and yet it explained why she would keep her ongoing friendship with Brennan away from her family life. This was the reason Sasha didn’t recall any outings with Brennan.

  “What were you thinking, Mom?”

  The idea that she’d forgotten to demand a copy of Farr’s report barged to the front and center of her thoughts. Anger roared inside her again. Probably he would insist all records that old had been archived or destroyed. What difference did it make? Whatever he’d said in the report was lies anyway.

  She circled the cemetery and then drove to her grandmother’s house. She’d fully intended to drive on past but a car parked in the driveway had her turning in. She parked beside the vehicle and rested her attention on the older man standing at the front door of the house. He looked back at her, obviously startled.

  Though she had promised Branch she wouldn’t come here or go anywhere else she might get trapped alone...she wasn’t alone. There was a man standing on the porch. Sasha opened the door and climbed out.

  “May I help you?” Since she didn’t recognize the man, he likely didn’t recognize her.

  “Sasha?”

  So maybe he did recognize her. “Are you lost?” She closed the car door and started up the walk, taking her time.

  He shook his head as she approached, whether in answer to her question or in hopes of making her stop, she couldn’t be sure.

  “You won’t remember me.” He adjusted his eyeglasses. “My name is Alfred Nelson. My friends and coworkers called me—”

  “Al.” Sasha remembered her mother referring to Al. They worked together in the city planning office.

  He nodded. “We need to talk, Sasha.”

  “All right.” He looked harmless enough. He was old and frail, his body stooped. There was no telltale bulge in the pockets of his khaki trousers, and that was about the only place he could possibly be concealing a weapon. “Let me unlock the door and we’ll go inside.”

  She reached into her purse and fished for the key. The house was no longer a crime scene, so they could go inside. She unlocked and pushed the door inward, then invited the older man to follow her inside. The house was cool and dark. She flipped on lights as she went. She turned to offer coffee but he had hesitated in the entry hall. He stared at the framed photograph of Sasha with her parents. It was the last one done with her parents before their murder.

  “You have to stop digging into the past.” His gaze shifted from the photo to her. His look was not menacing. More tired and resigned than anything.

  “Why would I do that, Al?” She moved slowly toward where he stood. “I want to know the truth. Do you know what really happened that night?”

  “What you’re doing...” He stared at the photo again. “What you’re doing is dangerous and she would not want you to be in danger. She would have done anything to protect you.”

  “Who killed my parents, Al?” She stood toe to toe with him now, her gaze insistent on his. He knew something—maybe everything—and she needed to hear the whole truth.

  “I tried to convince her to let it go, but she refused.” His gaze settled on the photograph once more.

  Sasha frowned. Had this man been more than a coworker to her mother? “Were you in love with my mother, Al?”

  His gaze clashed with hers, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses. “I loved her, yes, but not like you think. She was like a daughter to me.” A smile touched his lips. “She was so young when she first came to the office but she had big plans. She worked harder than anyone else, so no one was surprised when she received promotion after promotion.”

  “Did you know about her friendship with Leandra Brennan?”

  “They were like sisters growing up.” He shook his head. “But Lenny took advantage of their friendship. She wanted what your mother had but her marriage was a mess. Their friendship was not a healthy relationship for Alexandra. I warned her about that, too.”

  “But she wouldn’t listen because she loved my father,” Sasha guessed. “She loved Lenny, too, so she tried to keep their relationship on some level.”

  “Lenny was like the snake,” the man said. “The snake was cold and hungry and begged for help. Pity and kindness for his plight allowed a young girl to turn a blind eye to the fact that he was a snake. When he bit her, he reminded her that she had known what he was when she picked him up.”

  “Lenny was the snake,” Sasha suggested.

  Al nodded.

  “Why were my parents murdered?” she asked, unable to breathe for fear he would stop talking.

  “Because the snake was too smart. I’ve said too much.”

  He turned toward the door. Sasha couldn’t allow him to leave without explaining what he meant.

  “Wait.” She put a hand on his arm. “You say you loved my mother like a daughter. If that’s true, then why won’t you help me? All I want is the truth.”

  He stared at Sasha, his eyes filled with regret. “The truth won’t change anything.”

  He reached for the door again. “Don’t my parents deserve justice? The truth can give me that if nothing else.”

  “It’s too late. The truth might eventually allow for justice but it won’t give you peace, Sasha. It will only bring you pain. There are some evils that are too big to stop.”

  Sasha followed him out the door. When he had driven away she locked up and climbed back into her rental and drove. She drove until she reached the hospital
and then she pulled over and stared at the sprawling compound.

  This was the biggest project her mother had been working on. This was a Packard project. Devlin—the man who had most likely left her that message and sneaked in on her twice—was a Packard. And Leandra Brennan—aka the snake—worked for Packard.

  It had to be Packard.

  He had her mother and father murdered to stop them from exposing something he wanted to hide.

  All Sasha had to do was find that something.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sasha turned into Branch’s driveway right behind him. She had driven around for an hour. Unable to bear the uncertainty, she had gone to Branch’s grandmother and asked her about the rumors. Afterward, Sasha had driven around some more before she’d finally stopped and sent Branch a text. He’d called and sent her a couple of texts by then but she hadn’t been ready to talk.

  She wasn’t sure she could now.

  Everything felt wrong. She had been so certain the truth would help her to put the past behind her once and for all but that wasn’t happening. The more she dug, the more questions and uncertainties she uncovered. Her parents’ lives now felt skewed and off-kilter. Where was the happy childhood she had dreamed was real all these years?

  Was this why her grandmother had refused to go down this path?

  Had she known that hurt and disillusionment were all that waited for Sasha at the end of this journey?

  She should have come to Winchester, buried her grandmother, closed up both houses and then walked away without ever looking back.

  Branch climbed out of his truck and turned in her direction. A smile spread across his handsome face.

  Weakness claimed her and she barely held back the tears. How in the world was she supposed to make any of this right? She had built a career spinning other people’s mistakes and she had no idea how to turn her own life around...how to tell her own truth.

  How could she be disappointed in the skewed truth of her parents’ lives when her own truth was way off-balance?

 

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