Holly Grove Homecoming (13 page)

He sighed and stepped back. “Is this thing that you need to tell me what’s making you so tense?”

“Yes. I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but I need to tell you.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Go ahead.”

Carly bit her lip. He made it sound so simple. Just like a man, she fumed to herself. But maybe he was right. She should probably just say it. She should probably just say it right now. She pulled in a deep breath. “I’m hoping to write a true crime novel about the deaths of your parents.”

Oh God! She shouldn’t have phrased it that way. Now he was looking at her as though she were vermin. The lowest kind of vermin. Maybe something lower than vermin. She spoke again quickly. “Let me explain.”

He raised his brows and thinned his lips. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“I would only write the book if I was able to find some proof that it didn’t happen the way the suicide note said it happened. From what I’ve read about the incident, I’m convinced the note was written by someone else.”

“What makes you think that?”

“For one thing, Marge Abbott swore at the time that Larry suffered from dyslexia and couldn’t have typed such a perfect note, especially if he was terribly upset.”

Trooper lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You heard what Ralph Abbott just said. Marge is half crazy.”

“But if Larry was dyslexic, she was probably correct. Not that I’m an expert, but from what I’ve heard, that suicide note was rather long and explicit.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Carly gaped at him. “You haven’t read it either?”

He sighed. “They wouldn’t let me, of course, at the time. They said that I was upset enough without reading the suicide note. But I heard through the grapevine what he wrote. That he’d been having an affair with my mother. That she wanted to break it off. That if he couldn’t have her, nobody could.”

“Did anyone check his hand for powder burns?”

“Supposedly, yes. And the results were positive.”

“Is there any way the results could have been positive if he weren’t the shooter?”

“Sure.”

“How?”

“One way would be if someone held the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger after he was already dead.”

“Was there any signs of an extra bullet somewhere in the room?”

“I don’t know. That’s one of the things I intend to ask about while I’m in Holly Grove. Unfortunately, the person who bought my parents’ house had it torn down so I can’t even ask to examine the room.”

“Who bought it, do you know?”

“A couple who had just moved to the area. Aunt Myrna says they bought the house without knowing about the murders that took place there. Of course a real estate agent couldn’t get by today without revealing the house’s history, but that was then. When the people found out, they tried to sell the house, and when that didn’t work out for them, they had it razed and built another in its place.”

“It sounds as though you’re going to have a difficult time researching the murders after all this time. How would you feel about my trying to help you?”

Trooper shot her a quizzical look. “Do you have any investigative background?”

“Not in the same sense that you do as an FBI agent, but as a writer, I’m well versed in research, not to mention the people I became acquainted with when I was a crime reporter. So I could research the news stories from that time, maybe even hunt down the reporters who covered the crime. Sometimes there are details that can’t be included in a story because they’re based on rumors. I’ve run into that myself. But if I could get the reporter to talk to me off the record, well, it might be helpful. It certainly couldn’t hurt.”

Trooper frowned. “I suppose you could try, but even if you found a reporter or two who covered the story, I’d be surprised if they remembered the details of a twenty-year-old case.”

“Oh, they’d remember. As a former reporter, I can assure you that the details I absolutely never forgot were the ones I wasn’t able to use in my stories.”

Trooper was silent for a couple of minutes, obviously thinking. Finally he smiled. “There’s a lot of logic in your suggestion. And, as you said, it couldn’t hurt. Do you have any idea where to begin?”

“Sure. First I’ll see if any newspapers have archives going back that far that are now online. If not, I’ll make some phone calls. I still have friends in the business who would be willing to do a little research for me.”

“That sounds reasonable. When do you plan to start?”

She glanced at the wall clock. “It’s too late this afternoon to make any phone calls, but I can begin researching online. Tomorrow morning I can start making calls.”

He leaned back against the cabinet. “What about your writing?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll work that in. What about your research? When do you plan to begin?”

“I’ll start in the morning by introducing myself to the current sheriff and asking to see the records.”

“Is the former sheriff still around?” Carly asked.

“He retired a few years ago and moved to Florida. From what I’ve been told, he was showing early signs of dementia before he left Holly Grove, so I don’t hold out much hope of getting help from him.”

“That’s too bad. He might have remembered something that wasn’t in the records. You know, just an impression or a feeling of some sort that he couldn’t put in a report because there was no proof.”

“I’d thought of the same thing, and I’ll still check into his condition if it comes to that. What I’m hoping, of course, is to find enough information without having to bother him.”

“Okay.” Carly squared her shoulders. “I’m going to get online tonight and see what I can locate.”

Trooper pushed himself away from the cabinet and straightened. “I appreciate your help. And it will be good for me to have someone to bounce ideas off, that is, if you’re willing to listen.”

“I’ll be glad to listen. In fact, it would probably be good if we could meet and compare notes at least once a day.”

“Sounds good to me.” Trooper lifted his right hand to massage his left shoulder.

“Are you in pain?” Carly asked, frowning.

He lowered his hand. “Just a habit I’ve developed. I’d better go. Aunt Myrna will be wondering what’s become of me.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.” On the way to the front door, Carly debated about what she should do when they got there. She’d ended the kiss in the kitchen, so she felt it was her place to initiate another, but she wondered if he would give her an opportunity to do so. Women learned early on in the dating process how to indicate they were willing or even anxious to be the recipient of a kiss, but did men know the procedures? She doubted it.

Sure enough, as soon as they reached the front door, Trooper reached for the doorknob. “Call me if you find anything interesting online,” he said.

“Wait!” Carly practically shouted the word and he turned back to her, surprise clear in his eyes.

“What?”

Carly bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders. “This.” She placed a hand behind his head and tried to pull him toward her. Most men, she decided, had an advantage on women because all they had to do was lower their heads a bit to indicate they’d like a kiss whereas females actually had to exert a little pressure.

For a split second, she thought he was going to resist. Then he grinned and allowed her to pull him toward her. Even then, he didn’t fully lower his head and she had to stand on her toes to reach his lips.

By this time, Carly’s temper had kicked in and she was determined to kiss the blasted man if she had to hogtie him to do it. She wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled herself upward.

His lips twitched as though he was suppressing a smile, but then a soft moan sounded deep in his throat and he grabbed her and pulled her into a firm embrace. The soft kiss she’d initiated turned suddenly serious.

Carly welcomed the feel of Trooper’s arms around her. His strength was evident but, unlike her experiences with some men, she felt secure rather than smothered. She wrapped her arms around his waist and opened her mouth to his kiss, which was perhaps the greatest she’d ever experienced.

His touch was perfect, neither too demanding nor too soft, just powerful. At the same time, he somehow managed to make her feel as though she was in total control. And intuitively, she knew she was. If she had resisted for a split second, he would have released her immediately.

The end of the kiss came slowly but evenly, each drawing away from the other with obvious reluctance. Carly sighed. Trooper smiled, a tiny, sad smile. “I hate to end this,” he murmured.

“Me too.” Carly took a step back and he dropped his arms.

A twinkle appeared in his eyes. “At least I know you don’t find me repulsive.”

Carly allowed the corners of her lips to twitch. “At least I know you aren’t turned off when a female initiates a kiss.”

“You thought that…?” His eyes widened. “Ah! Well, to put your mind at ease, allow me to grant you unfettered permission to initiate anything at all with me. Anytime. Anywhere.”

Carly laughed, partly because of the heated twinkle in his eyes and partly from relief. “I’ll keep that in mind. Tell Myrna hello for me.”

He nodded in recognition of her dismissal. “Will do. Call if Marge Abbott pulls any tricks tonight and you get nervous.”

“I will. Thanks.”

He paused at the edge of the sidewalk to wave before he hurried on across the street. Carly watched until he disappeared into Myrna’s house. Then she wiped the dreamy smile off her face and turned her steps toward her office and her computer. It was time to begin her research.

B
y four o’clock
the next morning, Carly had read at least two dozen online articles about the Myers/Abbott case and had written two chapters on her novel. She’d tried to go to bed a couple of times, but sleep refused to come. She was simply too jazzed about the opportunity to work with Trooper Myers, not to mention that kiss.

She couldn’t help but worry that encouraging a romantic relationship wasn’t wise on her part. After all, she could be setting them up for problems should the romance turn sour. But she certainly couldn’t go back and delete the kiss in the same way she would delete a scene from her book when it wasn’t working.

By four fifteen, her eyes were burning and her neck ached clear to the bone. Her brain didn’t want to turn off, but her body was telling her it couldn’t take any more. She saved her work, put her computer to sleep, and trudged down the hall for a quick trip to the bathroom. As soon as she got into bed, sleep claimed her.

* * *

A
s was his habit
, Trooper rolled out of bed at five o’clock the following morning to run. Even before he dressed, though, he looked across the street toward Carly’s house to see if there was a light in her office window. Her house, at least the portion he could see, was totally dark, which led Trooper to hope her rest hadn’t been disturbed by any tricks Marge Abbott might have pulled.

The morning air drifting through his open bedroom window carried with it the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle, but it also felt heavy, as though the humidity was going to be high again today.

Wanting to get his run in before the heat increased too much, Trooper pulled on his shorts and a tee, then his socks and running shoes. He unplugged his cell phone, stuck it in his pocket, and hurried down the stairs and outside.

Sugar Maple Drive was quiet and most of the houses were still dark, including the Abbott house. Trooper paused to stretch before beginning his run, and his cell phone bumped against his thigh. He sighed. He ordinarily didn’t carry his cell on his run, but this morning was different. This morning he had to make some phone calls about Carly Morrison. Despite all she’d told him about herself and her plans, he couldn’t help but feel that she was still hiding something from him.

Of course he could just be ultra suspicious due to his background in the FBI, but he wasn’t willing to take that chance. He might be on leave, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t call a coworker and good friend who would be glad to do a bit of investigative work for him.

And that’s what he planned to do just as soon as he arrived in the park at the edge of town where he wasn’t likely to be overheard. He’d have to leave a voice message because he didn’t expect George to be in the office this early, but that was okay. George would need a little time to do the research anyway.

Half an hour later, he’d completed his call, left a voice message, then made his usual stop at Watson’s Bakery. When he jogged back down Sugar Maple Drive, he looked toward Carly’s house, hoping to see a light on, but her windows were still dark.

He paused at Myrna’s front porch to cool down, then let himself into the house. He went by the kitchen to drop off the bakery bag before going upstairs to shower and dress. Then he slipped back downstairs to start the coffee.

Myrna was there ahead of him. She’d already poured him a cup of coffee and set a dish of fruit salad at his place. She greeted him with raised eyebrows.

“I see you went by Watson’s again this morning. Danish are all well and good on occasion, but I expect you to eat some of my fruit salad before you put one of those sugary confections into your body.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trooper saluted, then smiled. “Actually, I’d intended to share most of the Watson goodies with Carly but her windows were dark when I passed by on my way home.”

Myrna propped her hands on her hips. “So I’m second choice now it seems.”

Trooper grinned, then pulled her into a hug. “You know that you’ll always be my number one girl.”

Myrna briefly returned his hug, then pushed him away. “You always did try to charm me, but I’m onto you, young man. Now sit down and eat your— What’s that noise?”

“My cell phone.” Trooper glanced toward the ceiling. He’d plugged his phone back in and come downstairs without it, forgetting that he’d left a message for George to return his call. “I’d better get that,” he mumbled. “Be back in a minute.” He took the stairs two at a time.

Fearing the call would go into voice mail, he ran the last few steps, then grabbed the phone and flipped it open. “Yes?”

“Damn, Troop. Is that any way to greet an old buddy who’s been ignoring his own work to research your newest lady’s background for you?”

Trooper bit back a grin. Not that George could have seen him grin over the phone, but he would have detected a smile in his voice. George was one of the hardest people to fool that Trooper had ever worked with.

“What makes you say that she’s
my
lady?”

“Hell, Troop, you think I’m an idiot? I looked at her picture from when she worked for that television station. If she’s not your lady, then you just move on over, son, because I’m on my way down there.”

“Does this mean I can safely assume she’s who she says she is?”

“Unless she’s better at hiding secrets than most people. But I don’t think that’s the case. Everything you asked me to check on turned out the way she said. Her stalker’s still in prison. In fact, he’s likely to stay there for a while. He attacked and wounded a guard and his sentence got upped by a few years.”

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of months ago.”

“Okay. And everything else checked out?”

“Yep. Now, you want to tell me what all of this is about?”

“Nope.”

“That’s what I figured.” The timbre of George’s voice changed subtly. “So how are you doing?”

“Good.”

“You taking care of that shoulder?”

“It’s coming along.”

“Okay. Well, I’d better get back to my job before somebody finds out I’ve spent the best part of a morning working for you instead of the Bureau.”

Trooper glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I see it’s almost nine o’clock. I’d feel bad if I thought I’d knocked you out of your third doughnut.”

“I’ll live. Take care of yourself, buddy.”

“Will do. And thanks.”

“Not a problem. See ya!”

Trooper closed his phone and smiled to himself. He felt a little guilty checking up on Carly behind her back, but he’d learned to trust his instincts about people. Strange that he’d felt she was hiding something from him. He must not be back up to full speed yet. Maybe the shrinks knew their business after all.

He gave a mental shrug and plugged his phone in to charge. He’d go back downstairs, eat breakfast, and then decide what task to tackle first. Talking with George made him realize that he couldn’t afford to sit on his duff any longer. One of these days he’d be ready to go back to work, and he wanted to make sure he’d finished what he needed to do in Holly Grove. Maybe with Carly’s help he could determine once and for all what had really happened twenty years ago, then get on with his life.

Of course now the process of getting on with his life involved coming to terms with what had happened in April and he didn’t know how he was ever going to do that.

N
ow fully committed
to starting his research, Trooper decided to pay a visit to the current sheriff. Over the years he’d learned that local law enforcement officers frequently resented the FBI, even when the agents went out of their way not to step on anybody’s toes, so he figured some caution was called for.

As soon as he finished breakfast, he went upstairs to change out of his jeans. He chose to dress casually but respectfully in khaki slacks and a navy knit shirt. And just in case he might need to prove who he was, he slipped his identification into his pants pocket.

The sheriff’s office had moved since Trooper had lived in Holly Grove. A new jail/office building had gone up on the west side of town, and while Trooper understood the need for a modern building, he felt a bit nostalgic for the old stone building on the town square that had once housed the sheriff’s office and three jail cells.

He didn’t call ahead because he was aware that even when people had nothing to hide, they tended to rehearse their responses when they knew they were going to be questioned on a particular topic. Although Trooper had never met the current sheriff, he figured the man had to at least know that Trooper was in town.

When he pulled into the paved parking lot in front of the bland, concrete block building, he glanced at the official cars parked nearby and spotted what he suspected was the sheriff’s car. Not only was it the cleanest but it was also a later model than the other official cars in the lot.

Squaring his shoulders, he cut his motor and got out of the car. Heat rising from the baked blacktop enveloped him, and he hurried to enter the lobby, which was blessedly cool.

A young female receptionist seated behind a metal desk looked up from her computer screen as he stepped inside, then smiled. “Good morning. Can I help you?”

Trooper returned her smile. “Is the sheriff in?”

Her smile faded a bit. “May I give him your name?”

“Nelson Myers.” Trooper never used his nickname for official business.

“And the nature of your business, Mr. Myers?”

“Private.”

The woman’s smile disappeared completely. “I’m afraid the sheriff is pretty busy this morning. I’ll have to ask him if he can see you.”

She stood and walked through a door on the right side of the lobby. From his vantage point, Trooper could watch as she walked past a couple of doors that opened into offices before she moved on down the hallway and out of sight.

A minute later, she appeared again. Her smile had returned, but there was an underlying tone of respect that had been lacking earlier. “The sheriff will be right out, Mr. Myers. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

Accustomed to the fluctuating reactions of locals, Trooper gave a mental shrug. He returned the young lady’s smile but declined the coffee. He assumed that her sudden friendly behavior meant the sheriff had not indicated any special irritation at having his morning interrupted.

Within seconds, the sound of rapid footfalls coming down the hall signaled the imminent arrival of the sheriff. Trooper looked toward the door with a degree of dread, still not sure what to expect, when a young man dressed in the gray uniform of the local sheriff’s department stepped into the lobby. A wide grin brightened the fellow’s face and he hurried forward with his hand extended. “Agent Myers! I’m Sheriff Michael Denton. I’m sure glad you dropped by. I’ve heard a lot about you. My dad played football with you in high school.”

Trooper extended his hand and returned the young man’s firm handshake, but he also winced. “Good to meet you, even though you’ve just succeeded in making me feel ancient. I hadn’t expected the local sheriff to be the son of one of my high school classmates.”

The young man laughed. “Don’t feel bad. My folks were three years ahead of you. Besides that, my mom was pregnant with me when she graduated from high school. She and dad married that summer.”

Trooper stared at the young man for a few more seconds, then nodded. “You must be Kevin Denton’s son.”

“Yep. And my mom, of course, was Shelley Davidson. They dated all through high school. Or so they tell me. Dad also says you’re the best wide receiver that ever came out of Holly Grove High.”

Trooper felt a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Hard to believe he could still be flattered by a compliment related to his high school football career. “I caught a few,” he admitted. “But your dad was one of the best linebackers in the state. Did he play in college?”

“Nah. I think an out-of-state school offered him a scholarship but he had to work part time since he and mom were married, so he went to a community college nearby. He still loves football though. He said if you dropped by that I should tell you that he would love to see you and relive some of your old glory days.”

Trooper laughed. “Well, reliving my glory days wouldn’t take long. But I’d love to see your dad. What’s he doing now?”

“He has his own business selling insurance. And Mom works as his office manager. Here, I’ll write down the address for you and you can stop by and visit with them if you have a chance.”

The sheriff grabbed a note pad from the receptionist’s desk and scribbled three lines on it, then tore the sheet off and handed it to Trooper.

Trooper glanced at the address, then folded the sheet and stuck it in his pocket. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Call me Mike, please.”

Trooper nodded. “Sure will, Mike, if you’ll call me Trooper. Now I wonder if we could talk privately for a few minutes?”

The sheriff’s smile faded. “Of course. Come on back to my office.”

A few minutes later Trooper was seated in front of the sheriff’s desk thumbing through a thick folder of papers. Then he looked up and met the sheriff’s gaze. “It was nice of you to anticipate my questions and make copies of all the reports related to my parents’ deaths.” He held the folder up. “These are all of the reports, I assume?”