Cold Case at Camden Crossing. Rita Herron

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ refused to give them the pleasure.

      But she was going to need cleaning supplies. A lot of them. Then she’d handle what repairs she could on her own, but she’d have to hire someone to take care of the major problems.

      She left her suitcase in the den while she walked to the master bedroom on the main floor, glanced inside and shook her head. Her father’s room was as messy as the other two rooms. More liquor bottles, papers, clothes, towels that had soured and would need to be thrown away.

      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, СКАЧАТЬ