Last Light (30 page)
They all needed a good cry. And now was as good a time as any.
The Whitson murders proved to be much like the Abernathys’, as far as Doug could tell. Ralph Whitson must have heard the intruder and gone to confront him. A fatal mistake. According to the sheriff, Ralph lay on the living room floor, a .22 caliber bullet through his head, and his wife was dead just outside the bedroom door. Their six-year-old had been shot in his bed. Again, none of the neighbors had heard the gunshots, so the killer must have used a silencer. The assailant had taken all the Whitsons’ survival supplies and food.
One man couldn’t have done that on his own. Even with two or three people, it would have taken several trips.
Deputies dusted for prints, but it was difficult to know whether the prints belonged to the victims or the killer.
Doug hung around outside the Whitson house, listening to the rumors being swapped like baseball cards. Everyone had something to tell the sheriff. There were so many leads it was hard to take any of them seriously. One blamed Zach and his brothers, who were heard partying every night. Another blamed a family of teenage boys who lived with their father.
But most of them blamed Brad.
Doug knew it couldn’t have been him. He hadn’t been out at night since the beating days ago. But how could anyone prove it?
After the family went to bed that night, Doug kept watch, but he doubted anyone in the house slept very well. He listened all night for sounds of approaching enemies. Every chirp of a bird or cricket, every creak from wind blowing against the house, set him on edge. When Jeff got up to take over, Doug napped like a grunt in a foxhole.
But deep sleep was impossible. There would be no end to the fatigue—or the fear—until the killer was found.
After breakfast the next morning, Deni went down to the lake for her first water run of the day. Chris was there, sitting on the grass in front of the message boards that someone had put up in the last few days, reading the myriad messages that already covered the plywood. Deni hadn’t seen her since the night Hank popped all their bubbles a week ago. She didn’t even know if her friend was speaking to her after she’d called her a fool.
Deni offered a tentative smile as she approached her. “Whatcha doing?”
“Reading.” Chris glanced up at her without returning her smile. “Did you know the Broadwaters are interested in trading three chickens for a .12 gauge shotgun? And the Stedmans are looking for a cow to buy. He’ll barter with the use of his tiller.”
Deni lifted her eyebrows. “We could sure use that tiller, if we only had a cow.”
That solemn look on Chris’s face cracked, and a grin tugged at her lips. “I never dreamed I’d hear you say those words.”
“I never dreamed I’d really mean them.”
They gave in to the laughter overtaking them, erasing their angry exchange days ago. Deni dropped down on the grass next to her friend. When their laughter faded into sighs, Deni looked at her. “Hey, I’m sorry about calling you a fool and everything.”
Chris shrugged. “It’s okay. You were upset. We all were. What a night that was. The night of our rude awakening. Thought it couldn’t get worse, and then . . . the Whitsons.”
Deni nodded. “Yeah, it got worse, all right.”
Chris sighed. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. And all the rumors going around . . . that your next-door neighbor is the guy.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. My dad had to keep people from killing him the other night.”
“Did you tell them about him following you?” Chris asked.
“Yeah, but they think I’m just paranoid.”
“Everybody’s paranoid. There’s another rumor going around that Dr. Morton is the murderer. Apparently, he was seen out the night before last, when the Whitsons must have been killed. And he wasn’t just out, he was kind of sneaking between houses and across backyards.”
Deni frowned. “Really? That’s weird.”
“Yeah. My neighbors, the Abrams, said their dog started barking. They went out, and there he was. He said he was walking to the Gradys on Arbor Drive to help their little boy with asthma. Only guess what? There aren’t any Gradys on Arbor Drive. In fact, there aren’t any Gradys anywhere in the neighborhood.”
Deni’s mouth fell open. “Has anyone told the sheriff?”
“Yeah, the Abrams did. Nothing’s come of it yet, though.”
Deni heard someone behind them, and glanced back. Cathy Morton, Derek’s pregnant wife, stood there with an empty pail. Deni’s heart sank. Had she heard every word?
The woman, who usually looked so vibrant and put-together, had a gray cast to her skin and dark circles under her eyes. Her lips trembled. “My husband is not the killer.”
Deni got up, reaching out for her. “I know. Of course he’s not. They’re just . . . rumors. I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation.”
Tears came to Cathy’s eyes, and muttering something under her breath, she went to the water and dipped her bucket in, her hand on her belly.
Feeling like a jerk, Deni sat back down on the grass. “Well, that stank.”
“Yeah, it did,” Chris whispered. “When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?”
“Well, if she didn’t hear it from us, she’d hear it from someone else.”
Chris’s sad gaze followed Cathy back to the street. “She seems so nice. It’s hard to believe he could be involved. Why would a guy who’d vowed to save lives go around taking them? And your neighbor seems nice, too. I don’t think he did it, either. I’m leaning toward some of the troublemakers in the neighborhood. Like the Emorys.”
Zach’s family, Deni thought. Yes, Zach and his brothers were known to cause trouble. But could Jeff’s friend really be a killer?
“Whoever did this did it out of greed,” Chris said. “Taking the Abernathys’ diamonds and the Whitsons’ food and survival supplies. There’s money to be made in those things, both during and after the outage.”
“Which makes it more unlikely that someone who makes plenty of money, like Dr. Morton, would need to do that.”
“Everybody’s poor right now,” Chris said.
Deni knew that was true. Even the most affluent among them was desperate for money now. “The thing is, it could be anybody. Somebody we least expect. The person we trust the most. Let’s face it. Oak Hollow just isn’t a safe place right now. That’s why I’m thinking about leaving.”
Chris caught her breath. “Leaving? Where would you go?”
“I might take Vic Green up on his offer and let him take me to D.C. I have to be with Craig.”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“Not crazy,” Deni said. “Desperate.”
“Not
that
desperate.” Chris got up, gaping at her. “Deni, you haven’t thought this through. You don’t even know him! You’re gonna take off with him, be totally dependent on him, for the time it would take to get across the country?”
“I don’t have any choice.”
Chris’s face twisted. “Of
course
you have a choice. What’s gotten into you? You don’t even have any money.”
“He’s one of those misers who keeps his money under a mattress or something, instead of the bank. So he has plenty, and he doesn’t want anything from me.”
Chris let out a bitter laugh. “Think again! You think he just has wholesome feelings about a pretty twenty-two-year-old woman who wants to travel with him?”
“He’s Mark’s dad,” Deni said. “He’s been nothing but nice. He’s going anyway, and he offered to take me along as a favor. It’s not like he’s pressuring me or anything. I don’t think he cares whether I go with him one way or another.” She rose and got the garbage can she’d rolled here, then pulled her shoes off. Stepping into the lake, she filled it up.
Chris stood on the edge of the bank. “What are your folks going to say? Surely your dad won’t stand for this.”
“I’m twenty-two, Chris. I have every right to live where I want to. I’m getting married, and I’m going to be with my future husband.”
“They’ll stop you. You’ll leave over your dad’s dead body.”
She shot Chris a look. “Don’t be such a drama queen. If I decide to do it, I won’t tell them. I’ll just go.”
“Deni, you’re making a terrible mistake. I really wish you’d reconsider.”
She finished filling the garbage can, then dragged it out. “I’ll die if I stay here. If we’re going to be stuck in the dark ages, I at least want to be with the person I love. I have to get there before he . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Before he what?” Chris asked. “Before he forgets about you?”
“Of course not. He’s not going to forget about me. He loves me.”
“Then let
him
come to
you
. It’s his job to come for his bride, especially when he doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive!”
Deni’s face burned. “I’m sure he would if he could. The fact that he hasn’t tells me something’s wrong. All the more reason I have to go.”
Disappointment glistened in Chris’s eyes. “Now who’s being the fool?”
Deni was getting tired of this. What did Chris know about love and commitment? What did she know about moving on? “Chris, if you had a fiancé you’d feel exactly the same way.”
“If I had a fiancé, I would hope I’d take better care of myself for when he did come, than to put my life into the hands of a stranger.”
“I’m not putting my life in Vic’s hands. If things get bad, I can leave him and set out on my own.”
Chris shook her head. “You’re not thinking. What will you eat if you set out on your own?”
“I’ll find something.”
“Where? Berries on trees?”
“God will provide,” Deni said.
Chris groaned. “You’re testing God, Deni. You’re not expecting provision, you’re demanding it. You know it isn’t God telling you to do this.”
Deni didn’t want to hear anymore. “I’ve got to get the water home.” She dragged it across the grass.
Chris kept standing there, hands on her hips. “Deni, you need to pray about this.”
Deni spun to face the girl. “I’ve been doing nothing
but
praying. Praying the outage would be over. Praying I’d hear from Craig. Praying that my family would stop driving me crazy. Praying that they’d find the killer. God isn’t listening to my prayers.”
“Deni, you’re going to regret this.”
“No, I’m not.” Water sloshed out of the garbage can onto her legs as she pulled it to the street.
Chris crossed the grass and stepped in front of her. “Will you at least tell me before you go?”
“Maybe. If there’s time.” Deni wished Chris would just get out of the way and leave her alone. But she wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t want you to go. I’ll miss you. Who am I going to hang out with?”
Deni softened then. “It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time on our hands. I’ll write. Maybe they’ll reinstate the Pony Express.”
“It’s not the same.”
Deni tried to smile. “Hey, it’s not like we’ve kept in touch all these years, anyway. Until the outage, I hadn’t seen you in a year.”
“That was different. I always knew I could get in touch with you if I needed to. But now . . . if someone’s not right down the street . . .”
Were those tears in Chris’s eyes? Surprised, Deni stopped trying to get by her. “Chris, don’t cry.”
Chris just looked at her. “We used to be best friends, Deni, and I still think of you that way, even if you
didn’t
ask me to be in your wedding.”
Deni felt like a heel. She’d only asked sorority sisters and had forgotten all about Chris.
“I don’t want you to go, not just for selfish reasons. I don’t want you to do it because it’s stupid.”
Deni sighed. “You know, I haven’t even decided for sure yet.”
The grim look on Chris’s face told her she didn’t believe her. But she didn’t say so.
“Just promise you’ll tell me first.”
That wasn’t a promise Deni wanted to make. But she supposed she didn’t have to keep it. “Okay, I promise.”
Chris just looked at her, clearly not buying a word of it.