Surviving the Truth

by Tyler Anne Snell

  Her voice had changed. Not a lot, but the pitch had grown higher than normal. And her words came out faster.

  Kenneth met her genuinely curious gaze as he picked up his pen.

  “No, that’s why I was wondering if he knew,” he answered. “With the way you two were outside, and then the way he was looking at you in here, I thought there might be something—” Kenneth waved his pen in the air a little then put it back on the desktop “—there.”

  Willa outright snorted. Then her cheeks went a shade of crimson he hadn’t yet seen on her.

  “Sorry if I overstepped,” he interjected before she could speak. “It’s none of my business.”

  She waved off his dismissal. Delilah nudged at her hand with her nose.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to being around people who don’t know about us.”

  Kenneth didn’t like the us but knew there was no reason to feel that way. Still, he was glad for the explanation that followed.

  “We dated for a few years and lived together for the last one, but it didn’t work out. He’s a good guy, and a great contractor by the way, but something was just off between us. At least for me. So I asked for a break to see if I couldn’t sort out what was bothering me and realized I wasn’t happier without him but I also wasn’t sadder.” She shrugged. “I thought that was worth a conversation but I guess I waited too long to have it. He started dating someone and then got engaged all before our lease was even up.”

  Kenneth whistled. “He doesn’t waste any time, does he?”

  Willa shook her head but she was smiling.

  “Not with her, apparently. Though, don’t get me wrong, I very much think we’re better off as friends.”

  Even though she was being flippant, Kenneth saw the wounded look cross over her face. He liked it less than the mention of her and Landon as an us.

  “You deserve someone who you’ll miss when they leave a room and someone who will miss you if you leave a room,” he said. “Anything less and you’re settling for someone else’s fantasy.”

  Willa’s eyes widened slightly. Her hand stopped its movement through Delilah’s fur. Kenneth worried he had overstepped again but, slowly, the corner of her lips pulled up.

  “Why, Detective Gray, that was almost poetry right there.”

  Kenneth chuckled. “I feel like I should be offended at how surprised you sound, but I’ll take the compliment in that instead.”

  Willa’s grin filled out into another one of those bright smiles he’d bet was second nature to her. Just looking at it, at her, and he’d almost suspect she had some kind of superpower. Willa Tate made him feel better with such little effort that his feelings of intrigue for the woman had only multiplied tenfold since their first meeting.

  That made her tears as she’d sobbed against his chest yesterday something he never wanted to revisit. Her pain had become his pain.

  And that meant he needed to get to the bottom of what had happened to the missing piece of fabric, the contents of the once-buried box, the mystery of the gun, and the disappearance of Josiah Linderman.

  Now.

  Because, if anything happened to Willa, Kenneth wouldn’t forgive himself.

  He couldn’t.

  He picked up his pen and set his jaw.

  Willa picked up on the change, he noted, as her fingers stilled atop Delilah’s head instead of stroking her fur.

  “Now, Willa,” he started, voice unintentionally low, “tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

  Kenneth put down his pen. The first time he’d done so in the last half hour. When he said that he wanted to be thorough in what Willa had learned, he hadn’t exaggerated. He taken more notes than she probably had taken all of her college career.

  “I actually have half a mind to ask you to join law enforcement,” he added on. “I could use a detective like you.”

  Willa felt her cheeks turn hot at the compliment. Though it wasn’t all deserved.

  “I worked on trying to figure this out for a month and all I got was the name of a woman in a picture and an idea that a man most think left town was, in fact, killed,” she countered. “I’m not sure that constitutes being a good detective.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m not sure most people would even care to figure out what was going on.”

  “Probably because most people would take the box straight to the cops when they found a gun inside.”

  Willa watched as Kenneth conceded, his expression momentarily thoughtful.

  “I can see why you didn’t, though,” he said. “I had worked at the department before The Flood happened and after we saw how far the corruption spread... Well, even I had some reservations about returning.”

  “Why did you?” Willa found herself starting to want a lot of things when it came to the detective. During her recount of all the people she’d talked to about Mae Linderman’s picture and Josiah’s disappearance, she’d caught herself tracing his lips in her mind—and her question was among the few she’d been truly curious about. Even before The Flood had happened the comings and goings of local law hadn’t gone unnoticed. Town was too small and gossip was too fast, so news that Kenneth Gray had left the department and law enforcement a year after his wife had been killed had made its way through Kelby Creek with relative ease. But, why he’d chosen to come back to the department to work? That, Willa had no clue about.

  Kenneth let out a little breath.

  “I guess for that reason, and why you didn’t come to the department right after finding the box. I couldn’t stand the idea that the corruption could have leaked into our closed cases and may have been why some of our unsolved cases are still unsolved.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Plus, Detective Lovett and Sheriff Chamblin sure made a good speech about why I was the perfect match for the job. I guess that also helped me along to agree to come back.”

  “And why are you the perfect match?”

  Kenneth’s smile wavered then faded. Tension crept into his shoulders.

  She responded to the change, shifting the sleeping Delilah on her lap. Willa had hit a nerve.

  “Because in all of my years in law enforcement, as a deputy and as a detective, I only ever gave up on one case.”

  He didn’t explain further.

  He didn’t need to.

  Willa chose her next words with care.

  “I don’t think men like you give up, Detective. Even if they themselves think they have.”

  Kenneth didn’t look like he believed what she’d said but he didn’t dispute it. He changed the subject and tapped his open notebook.

  “I’m officially taking on Josiah’s case tomorrow when I get to work. That really boils down to me telling the sheriff that I’m focusing on looking into what happened to him, seeing if Leonard Bartow took the cloth from the box, and why, and then going through the rest of contents in the box.”

  Willa tried not to get excited but she made a little squeak.

  He jabbed at his notes again and kept a stern expression. “I’ve already started by calling Mae’s brother this morning who, like you said, didn’t seem that pleased to be called. But he did give me a rundown of what happened that day as he knew it, which wasn’t much. He didn’t seem to be close to Josiah or Mae and, since the kids were placed into foster care after he declined becoming their guardian, we can’t track them down. As for other family, you were right. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else. At least anyone we can find.”

  Willa’s heart squeezed at that. Kenneth continued.

  “But next I’ll start with the gun to see if I can’t follow the serial number and chain of sale somewhere. But if I can’t, or if it’s not connected to Josiah at all, and we don’t find any actual evidence suggesting foul play, I can’t guar
antee I’ll keep looking into him. I learned enough to follow hunches as well as leads, but I can only do that for so long. Especially since I have an office at the department filled with other cases that need looking into.”

  Willa rocked forward in her seat, nodding with enthusiasm. She’d worn her hair down and felt it bounce around her head with the same energy. Kenneth agreeing to talk to her was different than him agreeing to treat her theory with an official tag labeling it.

  It was validating.

  It was exciting.

  It made her stomach do a little flip, though that might have been at the way Kenneth was searching her face to see if she understood.

  “That sounds like a fair plan to me.”

  “Good. I can swing by your place tomorrow and grab the box.” He stood and Delilah popped up like a daisy, tail already wagging.

  Willa was less ready to leave the office. She liked talking with Kenneth, even if the topics hadn’t been the peppiest.

  “Or, I could give it to you tonight? Maybe at dinner?” The words tumbled out with such speed that Willa didn’t have time to blush. “I mean treating you to a meal after you saved my life yesterday is the very least I could do.”

  Kenneth paused, one hand on his cell phone and the other on the back of his chair. She’d caught him off guard, which was apparent enough, but beyond that, she couldn’t read his expression.

  “Dinner,” he repeated.

  Willa stood, too, as Delilah made a break for her owner.

  “Yeah, just a friendly little thing. Or we could grab a drink, if you prefer. Whatever suits your fancy. I’m not picky.”

  Whatever hesitation had been there shuffled off.

  Kenneth nodded, though there was some stiffness to it.

  “I could use a good, friendly dinner.”

  Willa felt her smile widen at the news.

  Even if she wasn’t exactly happy about the friend part.

  * * *

  EVERYTHING WAS LOOKING UP. Not only had she been taken seriously about Josiah, she’d also decided to finally tell Martha and Kimball about the box and everything she’d found out. Willa had decided, though, that she would tell Ebony after Kenneth did what he was going to do to make it official, and then ask that everyone keep quiet so the gossip mill didn’t take over.

  Martha and Kimball had been hot and cold about the information when she’d sat down with them at lunchtime. They’d been intrigued and upset that they hadn’t been told sooner. They had wanted to know where the ring in the box had come from as well as the gun. They’d split in their opinion on Leonard Bartow and whether or not he was just a run-of-the-mill burglar or if it had been his second attempt to find the gun. Martha thought he’d probably taken the bloody cloth the first time.

  “Whose blood do we even think that belongs to?” Kimball had asked. “Josiah?”

  “That’s what I think,” Willa had responded. “But Kenneth still isn’t sure. He thinks the ring and the bullet casing are more recent than the other items. I don’t think he’s convinced they’re even all connected.”

  The three of them had pondered that for a while before Kimball and her sister had gone back to work. That left Willa feeling antsy for far too long, especially left alone in her apartment. So she did what every antsy, Southern woman did when she felt she needed to do something.

  She cleaned.

  She dusted first, used the Lysol second, and then vacuumed. Somehow, after that, she ended up using the disinfectant again. Then her attention went to the baseboards before pulling her to the bathroom to mop, Windex and, once more, use Lysol to clean everything. She even wiped down her newly-repaired front door thanks to Kimball’s friendship with a local woodworker. He’d been quick the night before and now, although it needed paint, the door shut and locked like brand new.

  By the time she was done, her small apartment smelled like lemon and she had a slight headache.

  She also hadn’t killed enough time.

  The clock built into the microwave said it was only just after three, which meant she had a few hours before her dinner engagement with Kenneth at six.

  “You could read something,” she said out loud to herself, feeling like she’d drunk a whole pitcher of sweet tea. She couldn’t sit still. “Or you could bake.”

  Willa looked at the small recipe book Martha had given her for Christmas. It was sitting on the kitchen counter. Called the “Brownie Bible,” it contained over fifty types of brownies made from scratch.

  Did Kenneth like brownies?

  Who didn’t like brownies?

  Sure in herself and the fact that she believed Kenneth did like them, Willa found her favorite recipe and went to see if she had all the ingredients. She wasn’t all that upset when she didn’t find every one of them.

  Instead, it seemed like a good excuse to eat up a little more time. She changed out of the clothes she’d put on to clean in, and danced into a pair of blue jeans that did her curves some nice favors, a frilly blouse that matched her increasingly good mood, and a pair of flats, setting the old tennis shoes she’d been wearing off to the side.

  She left the apartment feeling good and with a little hop in her step.

  So much so, that she didn’t even mind the dark cloud hanging over downtown as she pulled into a community parking lot. She threw her purse across her shoulder, decided it wasn’t too much of a run from the grocery store to the car if it started to rain, and headed into the grocery store with a song in her head and a smile on her lips.

  How had she gone from being so terrified the day before to feeling like she was almost floating now?

  Had Kenneth really made all the difference?

  She barely knew him.

  Yet, there she was buying eggs and brown sugar and wondering if he liked the center pieces or the corner pieces when it came to brownies. She was partial to corner pieces, but decided she wouldn’t mind sharing. She could be diplomatic like that.

  The rain still hadn’t arrived by the time Willa was done shopping and her mood was still flying high, so she loaded her groceries into her car and locked the door behind her. She was on Main Street but there were shops along the parallel streets that had become a lot more interesting in the last year. The thought of one in particular pulled her along the sidewalk in the direction of the street behind her.

  The rain cloud above wasn’t on the same upbeat wavelength as Willa. Droplets started to dampen her hair, but she decided to not let that keep her down. She adapted by taking a left turn to cut through one of the short alleyways, one that was covered.

  The rain stopped hitting her hair and Willa took that as a sign of good luck. She was ready to put that positive energy back out into the world.

  Maybe she was that bubbly person everyone thought she was.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  Willa made it to the mouth of the alley on the far side, took a step out onto the sidewalk and looked across the street to the Pet Market, wondering what kind of toy Delilah might like.

  She didn’t understand at first why her forward momentum changed direction back into the alleyway or pinpoint right away why her chest now hurt.

  One second, she was deciding between getting a ball or a chew toy. The next, she was being dragged backward with startling speed.

  “Let. Go.”

  It wasn’t Willa who said the words but, given how deep and harsh they were, she could feel them vibrate through her skin. Then she realized what was happening. Someone was pulling her by the strap of her purse. The same purse that someone was trying to take off her now.

  Willa fell between fight-or-flight and froze as she was pulled another foot back into the alley. She tried to turn around to see a face but all she saw was a closely shaved head and a hockey mask. That was enough to tip the scales.

  Willa went into fight mode.

  “Hel
p!” she yelled as loudly as she could, panting against the struggle to stay on her feet. Essentially being dragged by the strap of her purse, it rubbed against her chest like a seat belt might pull in a car accident. That’s how hard the man was trying to get it off of her.

  “Say anything again and I’ll—”

  Lightning suddenly forked in the air above the Pet Market street and the rain intensified just as a boom of thunder sounded overhead.

  There wasn’t a storm coming, she realized. It was already there. And that meant it was going to be even more difficult for people to see or to hear her.

  She was just going to have to struggle in this alleyway until this masked man decided he was done with her.

  Willa slashed back at the man’s face with her nails. They weren’t long but they were sturdy thanks to a lifetime of vitamins her sister always insisted she take. She managed to get her index finger beneath the man’s chin. Swiping up along its path, she slid it under the edge of the mask.

  At such an awkward angle, she only managed one attempt to rip it off.

  Something the man did not like.

  He grunted and let go of Willa to keep the hockey mask from completely coming off.

  Then Willa was all flight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colleen Tate had been obsessed with the Child’s Play movies. There’s just something about Chucky, the little doll possessed with a serial killer’s soul, that terrified and interested Willa’s mother. If you were a Tate, then you’d seen all the movies. More than once. More than twice. More than any one person should see the serial killer movie about a doll.

  But, like her sister, Willa had never been a fan. It wasn’t so much about the plot as it was about the victims. They had the tendency to be smart, cautious, and surrounded by weapons. And yet, as soon as that doll was seen holding a knife, it was like every victim’s good brain cell disappeared in a flurry of fear.

  Willa had decided that if she was ever in a similar situation, she would be the one to keep her wits about her. Leonard Bartow surprise attacking her in her apartment excluded, of course. She’d never had the opportunity to get away from him.