Читать книгу Whispers Under A Southern Sky - Joanne Rock - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

RUNNING ON FUMES, Amy Finley coasted into the driveway of her temporary home shortly before midnight. Even after ten years away from Heartache, Tennessee, she’d remembered how to get to her father’s old hunting cabin. It was one of the only places in her hometown where she’d actually made a few happy memories.

Now, shoving out of the passenger side of her car—the driver’s door was broken—Amy stepped onto the pine-needle-covered ground in the woodsy hills east of where she’d grown up.

Her sisters figured no one had been in the cabin in the last six years. Their father had died four years ago, but even before then he’d abandoned his old habit of coming up here in the fall as he’d gotten more involved in his career as mayor of Heartache.

Erin, the older of Amy’s two sisters, had promised Amy the electricity and water would be turned on this week, so the property would be slightly more livable for Amy’s return.

She found the key to the front door by sliding a hand beneath a windowsill around the side of the building. Same place it had always been, inside a hollowed-out knot in the pinewood. It was a miracle no rodents had made off with the key in all these years, although she hadn’t been worried. She would find her way inside the rustic cabin one way or another. Security wasn’t tight around here.

Something she planned to address as soon as possible if she wanted to feel safe.

At the thought, a shiver tripped over her skin despite the mild fall weather. Tucking deeper into her pale blue hoodie, she refused to think about The Incident. The night that had driven her from Heartache for an entire decade, making her miss her father’s funeral. Her sister’s wedding. Her mother’s alleged recovery from severe bipolar disorder.

She’d believe that when she saw it. If she ever worked up the nerve to face her mom again, anyway.

For now she told herself to take her return one step at a time. Her first step was moving into the cabin and starting renovations. She would need the distraction of a project to get her through the other tasks she’d set for herself. She was here to make amends with her family—her siblings if not her mother. And, perhaps more important, she’d come home to support her sister as Heather prepared to testify against a local criminal awaiting his trial.

Amy had her own reasons for needing to see the man behind bars, but no one in her family knew about those, and she planned to keep it that way.

One step at a time.

Turning the rusted, thin key in the lock, she used her shoulder to nudge open the door. Instead of smelling the must and mildew she expected, however, the clean scent of lemon polish drifted past her nose. What on earth?

The door creaked open on stiff hinges and a floorboard groaned under her tread-worn tennis shoes as she stepped inside. Flicking on the lights in the small space, she saw the pine-plank floors had been swept clean. One of the single-pane windows had also been opened, and a set of calico curtains hung on the wrought iron rods above the windows.

Her sisters co-owned a consignment shop in the small downtown area. They must have brought some finds from their business up here to give Amy a warm welcome. An antique glass milk jug held a vase of wildflowers on the tiny counter next to the white porcelain kitchen sink. A green plaid place mat held a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, one clean glass and a pan of brownies visible through a layer of plastic wrap.

She dropped the duffel bag from her shoulder and closed the front door behind her, drawn to the brownie pan despite the chilly breeze blowing through the whole house from the open window. A crisp yellow notecard sat atop the treats.

Welcome home, Sis. Can’t wait to see you when you’re ready. Love, Heather and Erin

It was the kind of thoughtful gesture a normal sister should love.

Except that it had taken her ten long years to face her siblings after that hellish week when she’d been seventeen and her world had fallen apart.

This hunting cabin was still fifteen miles from the home where she’d grown up, but it was the closest she could bring herself to seeing any of the Finleys even now.

She didn’t know if she’d ever really be ready to face any of them again.

Setting the card back on the brownie pan, she moved around the small cabin, closing the window so she could warm up the place.

Not much had changed besides the curtains. A common area with a fireplace made of river stones dominated the cabin. Off to the side of the living space was the tiny kitchen, including a few cupboards and a refrigerator, but no stove or oven. Back when she’d come here with her father, they’d used an outdoor grill or a campfire for all the cooking. Two small bedrooms held built-in bunk beds that were little more than plywood planks anchored to the rough log walls. There was no furniture besides a small table in the kitchen with two ladder-back chairs. Thankfully, her sisters had left a box labeled “memory foam mattress topper” on one of the plywood bunks.

Amy had brought a bedroll, but considering the cabin’s level of rustic simplicity, the memory foam was a bonus she wouldn’t refuse. With no central heat or air, she’d have to build a fire, but she’d brought her own supplies to do just that.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about her sisters coming up here to prep the place for her. She’d been adamant when she agreed to come home that she’d only see them on her own terms. When she felt ready for that.

For tonight, just being back in Tennessee, back in this tiny town, was enough for her to handle. After digging a flashlight out of her duffel, she flicked it on and stalked out to the car to retrieve her boxes.

It would be hours before she prepped the place enough for it to be comfortable, even with the freshly hung calico curtains and sleeping bag. Or maybe because of them.

Her chest tightened, and it wasn’t from the strain of carrying in the heavy load of firewood. She’d become a loner. Practically a recluse. When she’d left here, she’d moved to Atlanta and become a waitress, eventually putting herself through college since she refused to take a nickel from her family. Even her father.

Funny to think how a person could become so isolated even in a big city, but it was easy. Amy was an expert at being by herself. What she wasn’t good at was family.

Community.

Trust of any kind.

She hadn’t gotten where she was today because of those things. She now had an accounting degree and a potential start-up business in spite of all of them. Maybe that was why, after she got a fire going in the big hearth, she ignored her sisters’ gifts and unrolled a sleeping bag in the living area. Just like she used to do with her father when they would tell stories late into the night.

Disregarding the growl of her empty stomach, Amy hoped tomorrow she’d be stronger. Because tonight, all she wanted to do was to get in her car again and drive to Atlanta. Back to a place where she didn’t have to work so hard to fix relationships that had failed her.

* * *

THREE CUPS OF coffee into his day, Sheriff Samuel Reyes struggled to keep his tired eyes focused on the map in front of him. He hated this kind of research even on a good day—the boring-as-snot part of police work that kept him behind a desk. Today he was trying to make pieces of a resistant puzzle fall into some kind of meaningful order. He’d been over and over the map of Heartache’s quarry, trying to find a pattern or a clue in the pins that marked places where the sheriff’s department had discovered evidence in his current case.

The pins were old school, as was the paper map. But for him, there was no substitute for working with his hands and seeing the physical images.

Today, however, his brain was failing to connect any dots. Part of it was because he’d reviewed the same map a hundred times. But it was mostly because he’d spent the majority of last night pacing the floors with his infant son. A baby he hadn’t even known existed until three weeks ago. A baby his ex-girlfriend had handed him on his doorstep along with the news that she had grown weary and needed a break from the two-month-old she hadn’t seen fit to tell him he’d fathered.

So he’d been parenting the infant alone for the last three weeks. Nothing like trial by fire.

“Any luck?” Heartache’s mayor, Zach Chance, walked into the town-hall conference room that served as Sam’s office most days.

With his patrician features and perfectly pressed collared shirt, Zach looked the part of a slick politician even though he was a fairly normal dude. For a tech-company millionaire.

Zach had cleaned up in the digital security market before returning to Heartache from the West Coast two years prior. He still managed his virtual company from Heartache, but he was now the mayor. He’d also been the one who’d twisted Sam’s arm into leaving San Jose to become Heartache’s sheriff. Both men had grown up in Heartache, so it hadn’t been that big of a sacrifice to come back.

Sam liked small-town living more as an adult than he had as a kid, even if some days he couldn’t keep his eyes open while working.

“Nothing yet.” He gripped his empty cup of coffee and pitched the paper container in the trash can. “We need more evidence before Jeremy Covington goes to trial, but I’ll be damned if I know where we can get it.”

His eyes felt like sandpaper when he blinked. Hell, he’d barely managed to find a clean shirt this morning, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d slept in the pants he was wearing.

“I’ve gone over and over Heather’s statement, too. And I’ll be damned if I can find anything that helps connect what she saw to Jeremy’s previous crimes.” Zach dropped into a chair at the opposite end of the conference table.

He’d recently gotten engaged to Heather Finley, daughter of Heartache’s previous mayor who’d died while in office.

Heather had been the victim of an attempted kidnapping last fall, and Sam had arrested Covington, a former member of the town council, and his son on a number of charges, including sexual assault and stalking. But since then he’d been having trouble building a strong enough case to ensure both Covingtons served serious jail time.

Both Zach and Sam were convinced that Covington had stalked and assaulted many other victims—including Zach’s own sister, Gabriella, ten years ago. Sam had followed Gabriella that night, worried because she had seemed depressed and secretive. He’d found her desperately fighting off an attacker. Sam had managed to keep Gabby from being hurt and chased the guy away. But her attacker had been wearing a stocking mask and it had been pitch-black in the woods around the quarry road, so he sure as hell couldn’t identify him and neither could Zach’s sister.

Now that they’d caught Covington, Sam and Zach’s family finally had an opportunity to see justice done after an event that had altered all their lives.

“I dug out the notes I made about what happened to Gabriella, and me, too. I wish we’d gone to the police.” Sam drummed his fingers on the conference table, thinking back to that long-ago summer.

“You were a foster kid who’d had your own run-ins with the sheriff,” Zach reminded him, letting him off the hook. “And Gabby had just wanted to get out of town.”

Sam, Gabriella and Zach had moved to the West Coast. Sam got a GED and took college courses, eventually enrolling in the police academy. Zach went to college and started his tech company. They’d both looked after Gabriella, who had needed intensive counseling. These days, she ran a support group for victims of cyberstalking and assault.

“And your notes are all admissible as evidence, thanks to you,” Zach continued.

Sam had written a report about that night and mailed it to himself, as well as local police, as soon as he’d turned eighteen.

He’d kept his own copy—unopened but postmarked—and given it to a superior officer at the police academy along with his application. The cop had filed it with his records, helping preserve the evidence so it was still admissible in the case against Covington.

“Not that my notes help much to connect that incident to him.” Sam had berated himself a million times for not pulling the mask off the guy’s face instead of running after Gabriella to make sure she was safe.

“We’ll find something.” Zach pounded a fist on the table, making Sam’s map jump. “We’re going to find more victims, and one of them is going to have the piece of evidence that ties it all together to nail Covington’s ass.”

Sam had thought so at first, but months into this case with little progress, he was starting to wonder. Shoving back from the table, he headed over to the pull-up bar he’d installed in an archway between the conference room and the kitchenette.

The chin-ups at least got his blood flowing when his brain shut off. Reaching for it now, he began to haul his body upward until his chin was parallel with the bar. Then he lowered himself slowly and repeated the motion.

“Why don’t people come forward to prosecute scumbags?” He didn’t understand why anyone would remain under the thumb of someone who hurt them.

“You have to ask? We had reasons for not going to the cops as kids.” Zach reached for a bowl of peanuts on the conference table. They were left over from a retirement party they’d given one of the women in the clerk’s office.

He tossed a nut in the air and caught it in his mouth while Sam kept pounding out pull-ups.

“Yeah, child services could have separated you and Gabriella once they realized your mom wasn’t taking care of you. I was afraid the cops would find out I’d beaten the guy up and send me to juvie since Gabriella didn’t want to tell anyone what really happened.” Sam had gone over and over their options in his head and knew they’d done the best they could at the time.

“Right. And everyone else who avoids talking to cops feels like they have good reasons, too.” Zach tossed another nut and centered his head beneath it so it fell straight onto his tongue before he chomped it.

Sam raised and lowered himself. Raised and lowered.

“They don’t, though. I went to the high school this week to talk to the kids, since the bastard tends to target teen girls. But all that most of the kids cared about was that their parents would take their phones away if they found out they were texting late at night. I don’t call that a good reason for not stepping up to do your civic duty.”

It was damn lazy and self-centered, in fact. He’d had a tough time responding to those kinds of concerns from the kids who’d participated in the discussion after his talk.

At their age, he didn’t have a home, let alone a cell phone. And even as a teen he would have done anything and everything to protect the people he called friends. He had, in fact.

So he couldn’t understand kids who closed their eyes when they saw their peers in trouble.

“But scaring them off isn’t going to help our cause,” Zach said as he pulled the map of the quarry closer to examine it. “We need those kids to think of us as their friends, dude.”

“Then you should have been the one to talk to them.” Sam released the bar and dropped to his feet, grateful that the rush of blood through his veins was chasing off some of the sluggishness. “I’m a walking zombie lately. No sleep isn’t exactly enhancing my public face.”

“Which was already so warm and fuzzy.” Zach never looked up from the map.

“I didn’t become a cop to play guidance counselor to a bunch of teenagers.”

“Well, this is Heartache.” Zach finally glanced up. “It’s not the kind of town that needs a lot of policing, so as long as you’re here, you’re going to have to do some public outreach.”

“Or I can deputize the guidance counselor.” Sam scooped his keys off the desk, wanting to get away from the office and air out his brain. “But right now, I need a plan to unearth more witnesses.”

He headed for the door that led into the town hall. Normally he’d be inside for the biweekly court session. Sam liked to be there so he could clarify any of his reports for the judge or argue with defendants who wanted to dispute arrests or citations. But this week, the docket was light. Probably because he’d been too deep in the Covington case to spend much time on anything else.

Stepping out into the parking lot, he was striding toward his pickup when a familiar silver sedan slipped into a spot next to his.

Heather Finley, Zach’s fiancée. Sam lifted a hand in greeting. He had old history with the Finley family since he’d dated Heather’s younger sister, Amy, back in high school. But she’d left Heartache not long after Sam, and her otherwise close-knit family didn’t mention her much.

“Sam.” Heather flagged him down before he could pass her, waving at him as she opened the driver’s-side door. “Do you have a minute?”

Honestly, if he could have come up with an excuse to avoid social chitchat, he would have. He liked Heather just fine. She was a kind and talented woman, volunteering with the town’s rec department to teach music to local kids whenever she wasn’t building her own following as a country-music performer.

And while Sam admired Heather for understanding her civic duty and testifying in the Covington trial, small talk had never been his strong suit.

Especially with the Finley family. He’d never forgotten the way they’d alienated one of their own.

“Zach’s inside,” he said, halting his pace. “Conference room.”

“Great.” She gave him a lopsided smile, her long red curls covering the shoulders of her bright green trench coat. “I owe him lunch after he drove me to Nashville last weekend. But I wanted to check in with you first.” She hit the key fob to lock her car doors. “Are you still living on Partridge Hill Road near the town line?”

“I rent a place up there, yeah.” Having some space between him and the rest of Heartache made the longer drive to work well worth it.

“My sister is moving into our old hunting cabin off one of the dirt roads at the top of the hill—”

“I thought Erin and Remy liked being close to your family?”

“Not Erin.” Her pause seemed to stretch out for minutes. Hours. “Amy.”

“Amy?” Sam hadn’t allowed himself to think about Amy Finley in years. Well, except when she sneaked into an occasional dream.

She’d been his high school girlfriend. A relationship they’d kept quiet at her insistence because of her mother’s instability. A relationship he’d been forced to walk away from to help Zach’s sister. They’d left town in a hurry, scared that Gabby’s stalker would try to attack her again. They’d agreed Gabriella would be safest if no one knew where they were going. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Amy. Weeks later he’d sent a message to tell her he’d had to leave to help a friend, but she hadn’t responded.

And now, after ten years of silence, she was back. Holy hell.

“Yes. It took a long time, but Erin and I finally convinced her to come home to Heartache, at least temporarily. She’s going to renovate my father’s hunting cabin into a real home so we can put it on the market. I’m hoping she’ll stay for my wedding.” Heather tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I thought maybe, if you knew she was up there, you could keep an eye on her.”

No.

The reaction was strong and immediate. He wasn’t going to put himself anywhere near Amy Finley. Didn’t matter that their relationship had died a cruel death a decade ago. He didn’t need any more trouble with women than he already had.

“She’d be...what? Twenty-seven years old by now?” He rubbed the back of his neck, where his exhaustion was turning into a knot of tension. “She won’t want a watchdog.”

He tried to temper the refusal with a grin, but he had the feeling it came across more of a grimace.

“I’m sure she doesn’t.” Heather surprised him by agreeing. “But it’s a remote cabin, and the access is limited. I just thought you’d want to know someone is living up there for at least a few months. If you see anything suspicious, keep in mind she’s all alone on that hill.”

Guilt crowded away the bout of selfishness.

“Of course.” He nodded, accepting the responsibility that he suspected would only stir up trouble. “I never consider myself off duty, anyhow. I’ll know if anyone goes up or down that road.”

Zach’s fiancée beamed. She didn’t look much like Amy, who he remembered as rail thin and tall with skin so pale he could spot veins beneath its surface in bright sunlight. But there was a radiance in Heather’s eyes that was similar to her younger sister’s, a happiness so joyous a person would have to lack a pulse not to smile back.

Sam did just that.

“Thank you. I feel better knowing you’ll check on her since I’m not sure when she’ll be ready to see any of her family.” Heather bit her lip for a moment before continuing. “For now, I’m just happy she’s home for however long she’s here.” She reached to give his forearm a gentle squeeze before she brushed by him to enter town hall, her suede pumps tapping a purposeful rhythm while Sam tried to recover from her news.

Amy Finley. Back in Heartache.

He had no business feeling one way or the other about that, given how they’d parted. But that didn’t prevent an old memory from drifting through his mind—Amy riding shotgun in his pickup truck on a hot summer day, promising she knew the perfect spot for skinny-dipping. He’d been seventeen and crazy about her, and even though he was supposed to be driving them both to work, he’d ended up following her directions to a private spot in the woods, where a bend in the creek made a shady pool.

She’d slid off her shorts too fast for him to see much—and he didn’t want her to catch him drooling over her—but he’d never forgotten the way she’d darted through the green trees, laughing and teasing him the whole time.

No doubt a woman like that had moved on. Family. Kids. He hadn’t looked her up online and hadn’t asked about her, even though his best friend was now engaged to her sister.

She’d never gotten along with her family. She’d even told him once that he was the only reason she could stand to stay in Heartache...

Damn.

Shutting down the old regrets, he moved toward his truck again. He didn’t need this kind of distraction now. His personal life had gotten about a thousand times more complicated this year, for one thing. And for another? He wanted all his professional focus on solidifying the case against Jeremy Covington. He’d given up Amy ten years ago to put this guy behind bars.

He would make damn sure the sacrifice had been worth it.