Cold Case at Camden Crossing

Had he lived like this?

He was probably so inebriated that he didn’t care.

Deciding she’d check out the upstairs before she headed into town to pick up supplies, she stepped over a muddy pair of work boots and made it to the stairwell. Cool air drifted through the eaves of the old house as she clenched the bannister. At one time her mother had kept a runner on the wooden steps, but apparently her father had ripped it out so the floors were bare now, scarred and crusted with dirt.

Bracing herself for a blast from the past, she paused at the first bedroom on the right. Peyton’s room. The frilly, once bright pink, ruffled curtains still hung on the windows although they’d faded to a dull shade. But everything else in the room remained untouched. Posters from rock bands, a team banner and photographs of the team and Peyton and Ruth were still thumbtacked on the bulletin board above the white, four-poster bed. The stuffed animals and dolls she’d played with as a child stood like a shrine on the corner bookcase.

Memories of her sister pummeled her, making it difficult to breathe. She could still see the two of them playing dolls on the floor. Peyton braiding her hair in front of the antique mirror, using one of their mother’s fancy pearl combs at the crown to dress up the look.

Peyton slamming the door and shutting her out, when she and Ruth wanted to be alone.

Cleaning this room would be the hardest, but it would have to be done. Although she’d feared the worst had happened to her sister over the years, that she was dead or being held hostage by some crazed maniac rapist, it still seemed wrong to discard her things, almost as if she were erasing Peyton from her life.

Or accepting that she was gone and never coming back.

Dragging herself back to the task at hand, she walked next door to her room. Her breath caught when she looked inside.

Her room had not been preserved, as Peyton’s had.

In fact, someone had tossed the drawers and dresser. And on the mirror, hate words had been written in red.

Blood or lipstick, she wasn’t sure.

But the message was clear just the same.

The girls’ blood is on your head.

* * *

CHAZ COULDN’T ERASE the image of Tawny-Lynn from his mind as he made rounds in the small town. He hadn’t paid much attention to her when she’d tagged after his sister years ago. Had thought she had a crush on him and hadn’t wanted to encourage it.

He’d been in love with Sonya Wilkerson and, that last year when Ruth had been a senior, he’d played baseball for the junior college on a scholarship that he’d planned to use to earn a forestry degree.

Then Ruth and Peyton went missing and he’d decided to pursue law enforcement and get the answers his family wanted.

Only so far he’d failed.

Maybe Tawny-Lynn would remember something now that she was back.

His phone beeped as he parked at Donna’s Diner on the corner of Main Street, and he noticed the high school softball coach, Jim Wake, chatting with Mrs. Calvin. He’d kept up with the local games enough to know her daughter played for the team. The woman looked annoyed, but the coach patted her arm, using the charm he’d always used to soothe meddling, pushy parents. Everyone wanted their kid to get more play time, to be the star of the team.

If he remembered correctly, Tawny-Lynn had been damn good. Much better than her sister, although Peyton had been prettier and more of a flirt. She’d danced through dating the football team one at a time, then when spring rolled around, she’d moved on to the baseball players.

But he’d stayed clear. Peyton was his sister’s best friend. Off-limits.

He parked and went inside, his stomach growling. One day he’d learn to cook, but for now Donna supplied great homemade meals at a decent price, and today’s special was her famous meat loaf. She refused to give anyone the recipe or reveal her secret ingredient.

A late-spring storm was brewing, the skies darkening as the day progressed. Wind tossed dust and leaves across the asphalt, the scent of coffee, barbecue and apple pie greeting him as he entered.

The dinner crowd had already arrived, and he waved to Billy Dean and Leroy in the far corner, then noted that the parents of the three girls who’d died in the crash were sitting in a booth together, deep in conversation.

Mayor Theodore Truman, Cassie’s father, seemed to be leading the discussion. The Marx couple and Aubrey Pullman’s mother listened intently. Sadly, Aubrey’s father had killed himself two years after the accident without even leaving a note. Rumor was that he’d grieved himself to death.

He had to walk past them to reach the only empty booth, and Mayor Truman looked up, saw him and gestured for him to stop.

“Hello, Mayor.” He tipped his hat to Mr. and Mrs. Marx and Judy Pullman in greeting.

“Is it true? Tawny-Lynn Boulder is back?” Mayor Truman asked.

Chaz tensed, hating the way the man said her name as if she’d committed some heinous crime. “She’s here to take care of her father’s estate.”

Mr. Marx stood, his anger palpable as he adjusted his suit jacket. “Your father said he talked to you.”

Chaz hated small-town politics. He hated even more that his father thought he ran the town just because he had money. “Yes, he voiced his concerns.”

“What are you going to do about that woman?” Mayor Truman asked.

Chaz planted both hands on his hips. “Ms. Boulder has every right to be here. You might show a little sympathy toward her. After all, she lost her father and, seven years ago, her sister, too.”

The mayor’s bushy eyebrows rose. He obviously didn’t like to be put in his place. But Chaz was his own man.

He started to leave, but Judy Pullman stood and touched his hand, then leaned toward him, speaking quietly. “Sheriff, does she...remember anything about that day?”

Chaz squeezed her hand, understanding the questions still plaguing her. For God’s sake, they dogged him, too. Like who had caused that freak accident.

Or had it been an accident?

They needed closure, but unfortunately their hopes lay in Tawny-Lynn’s hands. A lot of pressure for her.

“No, ma’am. I know we all want answers, and if she does remember something, trust me, I’ll let everyone know.”

“Is she...here to stay?”

He shook his head, thinking about how lost she looked facing that crumbling farmhouse. There had to be ghosts inside waiting for her.

“She said she’s just going to clean up the ranch and put it on the market.”

Mrs. Pullman stared at him for a long minute, then gave him a pained smile. “I guess I can’t blame her for running.”

Neither could he.

But if others still harbored as much animosity as the mayor and his father, he’d have to keep an eye out for her.

* * *

TAWNY-LYNN TUCKED the laundry list of supplies she needed into her purse and drove toward town. The road was lonely and deserted, the countryside filled with small houses interspersed between flat farmland.

A mile from town she passed the trailer park where Patti Mercer, the pitcher on her old team, used to live. Patti had dodged a bullet because of a stomach bug that day. Unlike her sister, Joy, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen and still lived in the trailer where she’d grown up, Patti had earned a softball scholarship and had left Camden Crossing. Tawny-Lynn wondered what she was doing now.

The road curved to the right, and she wove around a deserted tractor. The town square hadn’t changed except they’d refurbished the playground in the park, and the storefronts had been redesigned to resemble an old Western town. The tack shop had expanded, a fabric store had been added near the florist, the library now adjoined city hall and the sheriff’s office had been painted and bore a new sign.

She passed the sheriff’s office and the diner, then saw the general store and decided they’d probably have everything she needed. If not, Hank’s Hardware would. But she wasn’t ready to tackle repairs. She had to start by scraping off the layers of dirt and grime.

She pulled into a parking spot, noting that the diner was crowded. A couple who looked familiar, but one she couldn’t quite place, exited the general store as she entered.

She grabbed a cart, then strolled the aisles, filling it with industrial-size cleaner, Pine-Sol, scrub brushes, dish soap, laundry detergent, dusting spray and polish, glass cleaner, then threw in a new broom and mop along with buckets, sponges and a duster with an extended handle so she could reach the corners.

Thankfully she’d checked her father’s supply shed and had been surprised to find buckets and boxes full of tools of every kind. Apparently tools were another aspect of his hoarding. He could have opened his own hardware business from the shed out back.

A couple with a toddler walked by, the baby babbling as he rode on his father’s back. She frowned, her heart tugging a little. She hadn’t thought about having her own family, hadn’t been able to let any man in her life.

But this guy looked familiar. Maybe he’d been in her class?

She continued past them with her head averted. She didn’t intend to be here long enough to renew friendships or start new ones.

The locals probably wouldn’t welcome her anyway.

She bent to choose some oven cleaner, then added it to the cart, but as she stood, she bumped into a body. She twisted to apologize then looked up to see an older woman with thinning gray hair staring at her.

She frowned, trying to place her.

“Are you Tawny-Lynn Boulder?” the woman asked.

Tawny-Lynn swallowed. “Yes.”

“You probably don’t know me but my name is Evelyn Jergins. My husband drove the bus for the softball team. He died that day in the crash.”

Tawny-Lynn’s heart clenched. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You— They said you might know what made him wreck.”

The urge to run slammed into Tawny-Lynn. “No.... I’m so sorry, but I still don’t remember much about that day.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Trevor was a good man. I miss him every day.”

“I miss my sister, too,” Tawny-Lynn said.

“I heard about your daddy. That’s too bad.”

Tawny-Lynn shrugged, touched by the woman’s sincerity. “I came back to clean up the ranch and sell it.”

“Then you’re not moving back?”

She shook her head. “No, I live in Austin.”

She arched her brows. “Really? Are you married?”

“No.” God, no. She hadn’t been involved with anyone since her freshmen year in college when she’d found her boyfriend cheating on her. He’d blamed her. Said she wouldn’t really let him in. That she was closed off emotionally.

Maybe she was. The nightmares of the past tormented her at night.

She quickly said goodbye, grabbed her cart and headed to the front. A silver-haired woman with tortoiseshell glasses was working the checkout counter and smiled as Tawny-Lynn unloaded the cart.

“Looks like you got a job ahead of you, hon.”

Tawny-Lynn forced a smile, although she dreaded the backbreaking job. “Yes, I do.”

She didn’t offer more information, and thankfully another customer came up behind her and the woman tallied her items quickly. Tawny-Lynn paid with her debit card and headed outside, but as she loaded the items into her trunk, she sensed someone watching her, and anxiety tightened her shoulders.

When she turned, Cassie Truman’s father was standing behind her. Age lines fanned his face, his hair had streaks of gray, but he still carried himself as if he were superior to everyone else.

“Mr. Truman,” she said, remembering the way he’d banned her from his daughter’s funeral.

“I’m the mayor now.”

So he and Chaz’s father must be buddy-buddy, both in control of the town.

She reached to close the trunk of her SUV. “Excuse me, I need to leave.”

“Are you leaving?” he said.

Anger shot through her at his tone. The Camdens and the parents of the girls who’d died blamed her for not remembering details of that day, but she couldn’t help it.

It was like a black hole had swallowed her memory of that day. She wanted the memories back, wanted to know how she’d escaped the bus with a broken leg and where Ruth and Peyton were.

But no amount of pushing or counseling had helped. She’d even tried hypnosis, but that had failed as well.

“As soon as I put the ranch up for sale,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her tone.

“You still aren’t going to tell us what happened back then?”

Pain, sharp and raw, splintered her. “Believe me, Mayor Truman, if I ever remember, the town will know.”

Battling tears, she brushed past him, jumped in the SUV and backed away.

Her hands were shaking, her heart racing. Damn him. Damn her.

She wanted to remember and put the story to rest.

She slapped the steering wheel and brushed away tears. She had lost her sister that day, too.

Night had set in, the Friday-night diner crowd filing outside to their cars and heading home. She wondered if they still played bingo at the church and had monthly dances at the rec.

Not that she would be attending any. She meant what she’d said. She’d clean up White Forks and get the hell out before the town destroyed her again.

Her SUV hit a pothole, and she braked, then slowed as she drove the country road. Seconds later, lights appeared behind her, and she checked her rearview mirror, anxious as the car sped up and rode her bumper.

Irritated, she braked again, hoping the driver would pass her, but the jerk slowed slightly, then continued to ride her as she left town. The curve caught her off guard, and she skimmed the edge of the road, then the car passed, forcing her toward the ditch.

Sweat beaded on her hands as she clenched the steering wheel and tried to maintain control, but her tires hit another pothole, and the Jeep skidded off the road.

Her body slammed against the steering wheel as the SUV pitched forward, the front bumper ramming into the ditch.

The impact jerked her neck, her head hit the back of the seat and the world went dark.

Chapter Three

Chaz paid his bill at the diner, then checked in with his deputy, Ned Lemone, a young, restless guy who’d taken the job but made it clear he wanted to move to a big city and make detective. Not enough action around Camden Crossing.

At least he didn’t mind the night shift.

“Anything I need to know about?” Chaz asked.

Deputy Lemone shook his head. “A domestic out at the Cooter farm.”

“Wally and Inez at it again?”

His deputy nodded. “She threw a cast-iron skillet at him. Broke his big toe.”

Chaz shook his head. The couple fought like cats and dogs, but refused to separate. He’d been out there a half dozen times himself.

Chaz walked to the door. “Call me if anything comes up.”

Deputy Lemone nodded, and Chaz strode outside, went to his car and drove toward his cabin a couple of miles outside town on a creek, only three miles from White Forks.

And on the opposite side of town from his folks. Maybe he should relocate even farther away from them.

But he’d stayed, hoping being close might lead him to a clue about Ruth’s disappearance.

He wound around the curve on the deserted road, fighting thoughts of Tawny-Lynn when he noticed a battered, blue SUV had nose-dived into the ditch.

Tawny-Lynn’s SUV.

Dammit.

He swerved to the side of the road, threw the cruiser into Park and jogged over to her Jeep. His boots skidded on gravel as he rushed down the incline.

He glanced inside the driver’s side and saw Tawny-Lynn raise her head and look up at him. Blood dotted her forehead, and she seemed dazed and confused.

He pulled the door open. “Tawny-Lynn, are you all right?”

She nodded, then touched her forehead. He did a quick assessment. Her seat belt must have kept her from serious harm, but the Jeep was so old it didn’t have air bags.

“What happened?” Chaz asked as he lifted her chin to examine her for other injuries. The cut was small, and he didn’t think it needed stitches, but she could have a concussion.

“I... A car came up behind me,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I slowed to let him go past but he kept riding my bumper. And when he passed me, he was so close I ran off the road.”

“Did the driver stop?”

She shook her head. “No, he raced on by. He seemed like he was in real hurry.”

“Did you see who was driving?”

“No.”

“But you said ‘he.’ You’re sure it was a man?”

She dropped her hands to her lap. “No. The car had tinted windows.”

“What kind of car was it?”

Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know, Chaz. It was dark and the lights nearly blinded me.” She reached for her keys. “Do you think you can help me get out of here?”

“Sure. But I’m going to call a medic to check you out. You might have a concussion.”

“I’m fine,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I just want to go back to the ranch.”

He grabbed the keys from her. “You’re not driving until you’re examined by a professional.”

She glared at him. “Chaz, please—”

“It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive when you might have a head injury.” He grabbed his phone from his belt and made the call.

“Racine, there was an accident on White Forks Road. Send the medics out here now.” A pause. “Yeah, thanks.” He disconnected then punched the number for Henry’s Auto Repair. “Henry, can you send a tow truck out to White Forks Road? A car accident, Jeep in a ditch that needs pulling out.”

“Sure. I’m on my way,” Henry said.

Chaz disconnected, his chest tightening as he glanced down at Tawny-Lynn. Her face looked pale in the moonlight, and she was rubbing her chest as if she might have cracked a rib.

He didn’t like the fact that she’d had an accident the very day she’d come to town. Or the fact that the driver had left her in the ditch.

Had it been an accident or had someone intentionally run her off the road?

* * *

TAWNY-LYNN STRUGGLED to remember details about the car. The driver was probably some joyriding teenager, or maybe a drunk driver.

But the message on her mirror at home taunted her.

Someone didn’t want her here. Actually a lot of people didn’t want her here. Had one of them run her into that ditch to get rid of her?

She unfastened her seat belt and started to climb from the car, but Chaz took her arm and helped her out. For a moment she was dizzy, but he steadied her and the world righted itself.

“You are hurt,” he said in a gruff voice.

“I’ve been through worse,” she said, then immediately regretted her comment when his gaze locked with hers. They both knew she’d barely survived that crash. Although no one knew how she’d escaped the burning vehicle.

Chaz started to say something, but the sound of a siren wailing rent the air, and red lights twirled in the night sky as the ambulance approached. A second later, the tow truck rolled in on its heels, and Tawny-Lynn had to succumb to an exam by the paramedics.

Meanwhile, Chaz spoke with Henry, the fiftysomething owner of the auto repair shop, and supervised as the man towed her Jeep from the ditch.

“Your blood pressure’s a little high, miss,” the blond medic said.

“Wouldn’t you think that’s normal after an accident?” she said wryly.

He nodded, then listened to her heart while the other medic cleaned her forehead and applied a small butterfly bandage.

“Heart sounds okay,” the medic said. He used a penlight and examined her eyes, instructing her to follow the light.

“I’m really fine,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I was wearing my seat belt so I didn’t hit the windshield.”

“How about the steering wheel?”

She nodded. “My chest did, but nothing is broken.” She had suffered broken ribs in the bus accident and knew that kind of breath-robbing pain.

“We should take you in for X-rays.”

Tawny-Lynn shook her head. “No need. I told you, I’m fine.”

The medics exchanged looks as Chaz approached. “If you won’t go in, you need to sign a waiver, miss.”

“Then let me sign it. I just want to go home.” Not that she considered White Forks home anymore. But she didn’t like people hovering over her.

She’d had too much of that after the bus wreck. Of course, the hovering had been people demanding that she remember, pressuring her, wanting answers that she couldn’t give.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital for observation,” Chaz suggested.

She’d been taking care of herself far too long to welcome attention, especially from Chaz Camden.

“I don’t need a hospital,” she said. “It was just a little accident.”

The medic handed her a form attached to a clipboard, and she gave them her autograph.

They packed up and left just as Henry finished dragging her SUV from the ditch. The thing was old and beat up, so a bent fender with a little body damage didn’t faze her. Not as long as the car would run.

“You shouldn’t drive it until I check it out,” Henry said. “Front end probably needs realignment. And that back tire is as bald as a baby’s butt.”

“How long will it take to replace the tire and check the alignment?”

“Day or two. I can call you when I’m done.”

Tawny-Lynn hedged. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she also didn’t want to get stranded on her way back to Austin. And her father’s old pickup was at the ranch, so she’d have transportation. “All right.”

“I’ll give you a lift home,” Chaz offered.

She didn’t want to be in the same car with Chaz—to share the same air—because he smelled too good, too darn masculine.

Sexy.

And whether or not she wanted to admit it, she was shaken by the accident and would love to lean on him.

But she couldn’t allow herself to do that.

She grabbed her purse from the Jeep, then removed one of her business cards with her phone number on it. “Call me when you have it ready.”

By the time she finished talking to Henry, Chaz had unloaded her supplies and stowed them in the trunk of his squad car.

Henry waved to her, then jumped in the tow truck and chugged away, pulling her Jeep behind him, the clank of metal echoing as he disappeared from sight.

“He’ll give you a fair price,” Chaz said as if he sensed her concerns about money.

She didn’t comment. Instead she walked around to the passenger side of his car and climbed in. The world was spinning again, the seconds before she’d slammed into the ditch taking her back seven years.

She massaged her temple, but the sound of screams and crying reverberated in her head.

“Tawny-Lynn,” Chaz said softly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He closed his hand over hers, and her fingers tingled with awareness, unsettling her even more. She desperately wanted to hold on to him. To have someone assure her that things would be all right.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.

* * *

BUT NOTHING WAS all right. She was all alone. Everyone in Camden Crossing hated her, and the only way to fix that was to remember what had happened that day.

Chaz gave her a sympathetic look, then started the car and drove to White Forks. The woods backing up to the ranch seemed darker and more ominous tonight. Chaz maneuvered the dirt drive, avoiding the worst potholes, then parked in front of the house.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard an animal rustling in dry leaves as she climbed out. Then the howl of a coyote as if it was close by.

Chaz opened the trunk and lifted one of the boxes, and she grabbed two bags of supplies and led the way up the steps. But when she touched the doorknob to unlock the door, it swung open.

Chaz immediately pressed a hand across her chest to stop her from entering. “Did you lock it when you left?”

She nodded, remembering the bloody message on her mirror.

Was someone inside now?