Next, he went with the police to Kenny’s trailer. State police had also been dispatched to pick up Greg Bennett in Toutle, and as they pulled up to the trailer, Tommy heard a voice over the radio confirm that they had Greg in custody. “Great!” Sergeant King who was leading this now homicide investigation spoke into the radio, “Keep him comfortable, but don’t question him about anything until I get there. And don’t let him watch the news or read any papers!”
Tommy let them in the trailer with the keys that Kenny had given him, and forensics and investigators checked it out. Tommy knew they wouldn’t find anything of interest in there. “Sergeant King. I think you need to bring a couple of your guys outside. I’ll show you what I think you’re looking for.”
Sergeant King raised his eyebrows but said nothing to Tommy. He just called his top investigator and one of the forensics guys out on the porch.
“Over here,” Tommy led them to the canvas garage that hid Cheryl’s Bel Aire from view.
“Wow,” the investigator said after giving a long whistle, “that’s a beaute. What’s it got to do with the investigation though?”
“Well,” Tommy started, “I know that the official statement said that back in 1965 they all jumped in Kenny’s truck to go to the lake...”
“Yeah, that’s what I read. They must have been squished in, but kids did that all the time back then. Before seat belt laws.” Sergeant King let Tommy continue.
“Cheryl Campbell, she was Cheryl Walker at the time, this was her car. She told me the other day that they had been in her car, not Kenny’s truck. But the guys had all told her to say it was Kenny’s truck. She never knew why. Kenny never told me this, but I saw the car here and wondered…maybe there’s some evidence here. Cheryl didn’t think so, but she said that Kenny was really eager to take it off her hands after she got out the hospital. She’s never seen it since.”
The two investigators had started going through the car as Tommy spoke. It didn’t take long, as the forensics guy reached under the back seat and pulled out a ripped cloth with something bundled in it. “Feels like a gun,” he said carefully unwinding the ragged material with gloved hands and a pair of oversized tweezers. “Yup, looks like a 45 mm. I bet we can still get some prints off this thing…that is if it hasn’t been wiped. And it doesn’t look like it has. See.” The forensics guy held the gun up by the trigger guard with the tweezers and pointed with a gloved finger to three big blotches right on the grip. They were obviously fingerprints. He dumped the gun into a paper bag and the torn cloth rag into another. “We’ll be able to tell whoever shot this gun as long as his…or her…fingerprints are on file.”
Tommy felt a smile creep over his face. He was sure Kenny had told him the truth…what did he have to lose. Maybe they would be able to prove Greg Bennett did this after all.
“So, Tom,” Sergeant King now turned to him as if he was an authority on the case, “what say you and I pay Cheryl Campbell a little visit. I think these boys can finish up here.”
Tommy nodded and got in the cruiser with the Sergeant.
*
Tommy knocked on Cheryl’s door, but again there was no answer. Odd, such a recluse all these years and now two days in a row she’s not home? Maybe she’s gone to visit family. He tried the doorhandle, but it was still locked. “What is that smell?” Tommy said as he got a whiff of something too terrible to describe. He had never smelled anything like it before…wait…maybe. He had been hunting with some friends back a few years ago. A camping trip. Tommy did not like hunting, but he liked these guys and decided he would just pretend to be a bad shot. One of his buddies had hit a deer, but it had taken off, just badly wounded. Three days later when they were packing up to leave, they came across the dead carcass. The deer must have only gone a short distance and died, but none of them had been able to find it. Now that it had been rotting in the sun for three days, it stank like something unbelievable. This smell now…it wasn’t the same, but it was similar.
Sergeant King looked at Tommy and they exchanged a thought. Then the two men slammed their shoulders against the locked door, releasing it instantly. A putrid smell filled Tommy’s nostrils immediately as they fell through the open door. He looked toward the back of the little house and could see a shadow moving slightly in what was likely Cheryl’s bedroom. The two men made their way down the hallway. As they neared the bedroom door, Tommy was aware of flies, dozens of them, flitting back and forth and moving in and out of the slightly open door.
Sergeant King drew his gun and Tommy pressed the door further open. Something knocked against the back of the door. Tommy followed the Sergeant into the room and they both stared at the back of the door. Cheryl’s lifeless body hung from a bedsheet tied over the top of the door, swinging slightly back and forth in the breeze from the open window. Flies moved in and out of her gaping mouth. Tommy felt bile rise in his throat and ran down the hallway to the bathroom where he vomited.
A few minutes later Sergeant King retrieved him, and they left, “I’ll send a team over, but it definitely looks like suicide,” he told Tommy.
“Looks like I riled things up too much. I am so sorry for Cheryl – I never meant for this to happen,” Tommy felt himself breaking down. This was just too much to take.
“Look Tommy, I don’t know what you said to her, but from what I understand, Cheryl Campbell was a bit of a nutcase already. Probably would have killed herself eventually, feeling so guilty about her best friend’s murder. Kenny calling you back to get it off his chest was just the catalyst. Not your fault. No sir.”
Tommy didn’t really feel any better, but he did understand what Sergeant King was trying to tell him. He’d have to have quite a few deep-down talks with Betse to get through this over the next few months, but he would…eventually.
Chapter Fourteen
Greg Bennett was charged with Donna Richardson’s murder and went back to jail. This time for life.
“Too bad it wasn’t death,” Allan Richardson told Tommy as he handed him the keys to Kenny’s brand-new Dodge Ram, “but at least he’ll never get out. And he’ll have to think about what he did for the rest of his useless life.”
Tommy patted Allan on the shoulder. They had found a hand-written last will and testament in Kenny’s trailer, which left Allan the truck and Kenny’s partnership in the garage business with his brother, Bobby. Allan was grateful. Along with the will, in a small hand-made wooden box that Kenny had carved in 1965 according to the carved inscription on the bottom, there was a confession of what had happen that day to Donna. Kenny had written it in 1965 and had made the box to store it in, almost hoping that someone would have found it by now. These items, the will and the confession, were enough for Allan to finally forgive Kenny.
“I think I can move on. Too bad Mom and Dad never got that comfort, but…I think they probably know.” Allan looked up to the sky as if looking for his parents there. Tommy nodded and said nothing.
This strange little town where he had never wanted to return to was now starting to grow on him. Kenny had not forgotten Tommy in his will. He had left him the trailer and the life-long lease on the trailer court lot on which it sat. Tommy thought he could have it renovated and maybe…just maybe…he might use it as a vacation spot a couple of times a year. He had spent the last three weeks here reminiscing with his old friends…and enemies…and he was finding there were a lot of good memories from his childhood that he had forgotten. Sometimes you just have to dig.
The End
Author Bio
Victoria Michaels is the author of the Stephanie Unchained series and is a best-selling breakout author of dozens of steamy romance novels. A former high school English and Literature teacher, Victoria lives in the rural Canadian Rockies with her husband and their three dogs, Jake a border collie, Madeline a Golden Retriever, and Cherry a Labradoodle.
Victoria loves ballroom dancing and West Coast Swing.
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Robyn was the epitome of curvy girl; from her deep, full cleavage to her narrow waist and accentuated hips, thick strong thighs, and her sturdy calves. Some might describe her as ‘built like a brick shithouse’, or a ‘big-boned gal’, but Robyn preferred the word curvy. She had never begrudged her curves; she was actually quite fond of them. She was sick and tired of how society treated her and her body; even with all her curves, she was very feminine, but she longed for hard physical work and things that were considered ‘manly’.
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Eve LaTourneau returns from her traumatic sabbatical in Brownsville, Texas, to take a new position at a news station in Victoria, BC, Canada. After healing quite quickly from her gun wound, Eve is promoted and sent on a new assignment in Africa where she will report on poaching in Zimbabwe. She is to stay at a compound out in the middle of the African plains for six months. A no-nonsense hard-working older man, Graeme Van der Merwe, who runs the compound is a former Environmental Biologist who has dedicated his life to saving the African wildlife. Although Eve has sworn off men and is focusing on her career as an investigative reporter, there is something about this man who is old enough to be her father.
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Victoria Michaels’ first NOVEL, The Trip
Ten-year-old Thad Bulmer had been looking forward to this camping trip with his dad. Dad was a lot of fun, but often worked on his own projects, including restoring his Dodge Fargo truck.
From the city, Thad was excited to explore the great outdoors with the chance to use his new knife that Dad had given him as an early eleventh birthday present. But the trip would not go as they planned, as nature has a way of interrupting the fun. Thad finds himself alone and in a very dangerous situation that he has to get himself out of, with no help from Dad. He confronts mortality face to face with a fierce desire to live.
Amy Bulmer is extremely dissatisfied in her marriage and is planning on asking for a divorce when her husband and son return from their camping trip. She is not clear on her reasons for feeling unfulfilled, but is sure it is the lack of motivation from her husband, Matt, who is set on spending his life living like a kid who happens to have an adult job. Frustrated, Amy finds it difficult to resist the attention from a handsome co-worker who works at the same school she teaches at. Placing her happiness in the hands of men, Amy has been searching for her true purpose...with a passion.
The Girl in the Lake Page 8