"In Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spindler Erica)

CHAPTER 6

Cypress Springs police headquarters hadn't changed in the years she had been gone. Located in an old storefront downtown, a block off Main in back of the courthouse, it resembled a hardware store or feed and seed more than a modern law enforcement center.

Avery entered the building. The whirling ceiling fans kicked up fifty years of dust. The sun streaming through the front window illuminated the millions of particles. The officer on desk duty looked up. He was so young, he still sported a severe case of adolescent acne.

She stopped at the desk and smiled. "Is Buddy in?"

"Sure is. You here to see him?"

"Nope, just wanted to see if he was here."

The kid's face went slack for a moment, then he laughed. "You're teasing me, right?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"That's okay. Are you Avery Chauvin?"

She nodded. "Do I know you?"

"You used to baby-sit me. I'm Sammy Martin. Del and Marge's boy."

She thought a moment, then smiled. As a kid, he had been an absolute terror. Interesting that he had decided to go into law enforcement. "I never would have known it was you, Sammy. Last time I saw you, you were what? Eight or nine?"

"Eight." His smile slipped. "Sorry about your dad. None of us could believe it."

"Thanks." She cleared her throat, furious with herself for the tears that sprang to her eyes. "You said Buddy was in?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll tell him you're here." He turned. "Buddy! Got a visitor!"

Buddy shouted he'd be out in a "jiffy" and Avery grinned. "Fancy intercom system, Sammy."

He laughed. "Isn't it, though. But we make do."

His phone rang and she wandered away from the desk. She crossed to the community bulletin board, located to the right of the front door. Another one just like it was located in the library, the post office and the Piggly Wiggly. Cypress Springs's communications center, she thought. That hadn't changed, either.

She scanned the items tacked to the board, a conglomeration of community information flyers, Most Wanted and Missing posters and For-Sale-by-Owner ads.

"Baby girl," Buddy boomed. She turned. He came around Sammy's desk, striding toward her, boots thundering against the scuffed wooden floors.

"I was afraid you'd be at lunch."

"Just got back." He hugged her. "This is a nice surprise."

She returned the hug. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Sure." He searched her expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. I wanted to ask you about something I found in my dad's closet."

"I'll try. Come on." He led her to his office. Cluttered shelves, battered furniture and walls covered with honorary plaques and awards spoke of a lifetime of service to the community.

Avery sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk. She dug out the couple of clipped articles she had stuffed into her purse and handed them to him. "I found a box of clippings like these in Dad's bedroom closet. I hoped you'd be able to tell me why he'd kept them."

He scanned the two clippings, eyebrows drawing together. He met her eyes. "Are you certain your dad collected them and not your mom?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Not one hundred percent. But Dad had removed everything else of Mom's from the closet, so why keep these?"

"Gotcha." He handed the two back. "To answer your question, I don't know why he saved them. Even considering the nature of the case, it seems an odd thing for him to do."

"That's what I thought. So, he wasn't involved with the investigation in any way?"

"Nope."

"Was he Sallie's physician?"

"Could have been, though I don't know for sure. I'd guess yes, just because for a number of years he was Cypress Springs's only general practitioner. And even after Bobby Townesend opened his practice, then Leon White, your daddy remained the town's primary doctor. People around here are loyal and they certainly don't like change."

She pursed her lips. "Do you remember this event?"

"Like it was yesterday." He paused, passed a hand over his forehead. "In my entire career, I've only investigated a handful of murders. Sallie Waguespack's was the first. And the worst."

He hesitated a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "But the trouble started before her murder. From the moment we learned that Old Dixie Foods was considering opening a factory just south of here. The community divided over the issue. Some called it progress. A chance to financially prosper. A chance for businesses that had always fought just to survive to finally have the opportunity to grow, maybe even turn a profit.

"Others predicted doom. They predicted the ruination of a way of life that had stood for a century. A way of life disappearing all over the South. They cited other Southern communities that had been changed for the worse by the influx of big business."

He laid his hands flat on the desk. She noticed their enormous size. "The topic became a hot button. Friendships were strained. Working relationships, too. Some families were divided on the issue.

"I admit I was one of those blinded by the idea of progress, financial growth. I didn't buy the downside."

"Which was?"

"The influx of five hundred minimum-wage workers, many of them unmarried males. The housing and commercial support system that would have to be created to accommodate them. How they would alter the social and moral structure of the community."

"I'm not certain I understand what you mean."

"This is a community devoted to God and family. We're a bit of an anachronism in this modern world. Family comes first. Sunday is for worship. We live by the Lord's commandments and the Golden Rule. Put a couple hundred single guys on the street on a Friday night, money in their pockets and what do you think is going to happen?"

She had a pretty good idea-and none of it had to do with the Golden Rule. "And my father?" she asked. "Where did he stand on the issue?"

Buddy met her eyes. His brow furrowed. "I don't remember for sure. I'm thinking he saw the downside all along. He was a smart man. Smarter than me, that's for certain."

After a moment, he continued. "In the end, of course, the town had little recourse. The factory was built. Money began pouring into Cypress Springs. The town grew. And people's worst predictions came true."

He stood and turned toward the window behind his desk. He gazed out, though Avery knew there was little to see-just a dead-end alley and the shadow of the courthouse.

"I love this town," he said without looking at her. "Grew up here, raised my family here. I'll die here, I suspect. Those four months in 1988 were the only time I considered leaving."

He turned and met her eyes. "The crime rate began to climb. We' re talking the serious stuff, the kind of crimes we'd never seen in Cypress Springs. Rape. Armed robbery. Prostitution, for God's sake."

He released a weary-sounding breath. "It didn't happen overnight, of course. It sneaked up on us. An isolated crime here, another there. I called them flukes. Pretty soon, I couldn't call them that anymore. Same with some of the other changes occurring in the community. Teenage pregnancies began to rise. As did the divorce rate. Suddenly, we were having the kind of trouble at the high school they had at big-city schools-alcohol, drugs, fighting."

She vaguely recalled fights, and somebody getting caught smoking pot in the bathroom of the high school. She had been insulated from it all, she realized. In her warm, protected womb.

"It must have been difficult for you," she said.

"Folks were scared. And angry. Real angry. The town was turning into a place they didn't like. Naturally they turned their anger on me."

"They felt you weren't doing enough."

It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway. "I was in over my head, no doubt about it. Didn't have the manpower or the experience to deal with the increased crime rate. Hell, our specialty had been traffic violations, the occasional barroom brawl and sticky-fingered kids shoplifting bubble gum from the five-and-dime. Then Sallie Waguespack was killed."

He returned to his chair and sank heavily onto it. "This town went ballistic. The murder was grisly. She was young, pretty and had her whole life ahead of her. Her killers were high on drugs. There's just nothing easy about that scenario." "Why'd they kill her, Buddy?"

"We don't know. We suspect the motive was robbery but-" "But," she prodded.

"Like I said, she was young and pretty. And wild. They ran in the same crowd, frequented the same kinds of places. The Pruitt boys knew her. Could have been that one-or both-of them were romantically involved with her. Maybe they fought. Maybe she tried to break it off. Won't know any of that for sure, but what I do know is, the evidence against them was rock solid."

He fell silent. She thought a moment, going over the things he had told her, trying to find where her father fit in. If he fit in. "What happened then, Buddy?"

He blinked. "We closed the case."

"Not that, I mean with the community. The crime rate."

"Things quieted down, they always do. Some good came of Sal-lie's death. People stopped taking the community, their quality of life, for granted. They realized that safety and a community spirit were worth working for. People started watching out for each other. Caring more. Service groups formed to help those in need. Drug awareness began being taught in the schools. As did sex education. Counseling was provided for those in need. Instead of condemning people in crisis, we began to offer help. The citizens voted to increase my budget and I put more officers on the street. The crime rate began to fall."

"My first thought upon driving into town was how unchanged Cypress Springs seemed."

"A lot of effort has gone into maintaining that." He smiled. "Would you believe, tourism has become our number one industry? Lots of day-trippers, people on their way to and from St. Fran-cisville. They come to see our pretty, old-time town."

She wondered if that was a hint of cynicism she heard in his voice.

"What about the canning plant?"

"Burned a couple years back. Old Dixie was in financial difficulty and didn't rebuild. Without job opportunities, those without other ties to Cypress Springs moved. If you're looking for an apartment, there're plenty of vacancies."

Avery smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Old Dixie went belly-up last year. The burned-out hulk's for sale. Myself, I can't see anyone buying it. It's a stinking eyesore on the countryside. And I mean that literally."

She arched an eyebrow in question and he laughed without humor. "Just wait. You haven't been here long enough to know what I'm talking about. When conditions are just right-the hu-midity's high, the temperature's warm and the wind's blowing briskly from the south, the sour smell of the plant inundates Cypress Springs. Folks close their windows and stay inside. Even so, it's damn hard to ignore."

"Makes it hard to forget, too, I'll bet." Avery wrinkled her nose. "Does the town have any recourse?"

"Nope, company's Chapter 7." He leaned toward her. "Can't squeeze blood out of a turnip. Waste of time to try."

Avery fell silent a moment, then looked at Buddy, returning to the original reason for her visit. "Why did Dad clip and save all these articles, all these years, Buddy?"

"Don't know, baby girl. I just don't know."

"Am I interrupting?" Matt asked from behind her.

Avery turned. Matt stood in the doorway, looking official in his sheriff's department uniform. "What're you doing here, son?"

"Do I need a reason to pop in to see my old man?"

"Course not." Buddy glanced at his watch. "But it's past lunch and the middle of a workday."

Matt shifted his gaze to hers. "You see why I chose the sheriff's department over the CSPD? He'd have been all over me, all day." Buddy snorted. "Right. Nobody needs to sit on top of you and you know it. You practically breathe that job." He wagged a finger at his son. "Truth be told, I wouldn't have had you work for me- I'd never have gotten a moment's peace."

"Slacker." Matt strode into the room, stopping behind Avery's chair. "You have a woman call in a missing person last week?" he asked his dad.

Buddy's expression tensed. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Just got off the phone with her. She thinks you're not doing anything on the case, asked the sheriff's department to check it out."

The older man leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what she expects. I've done everything I can do."

"Figured as much. Had to ask anyway."

Avery moved her gaze between the two men. "Do I need to go?"

"You're okay." Matt laid a hand on her shoulder. "In fact, you're an investigative reporter, you give us your take on this. Dad?"

Buddy nodded and took over. "I got a call last week from a woman who said her boyfriend contacted her by cell phone from just outside Cypress Springs. He told her he broke down and was going to call a service station for a tow. She never heard from him again."

"Where was he heading?" she asked.

"To St. Francisville. Coming from a meeting in Clinton."

"Why?"

"Business. Meeting with a client. He was in advertising."

"Go on."

"I spoke with every service station within twenty miles. Nobody got a call. I asked around town, put up flyers, haven't gotten a nibble. I told her that."

Matt moved around her chair and perched on the edge of the desk, facing her. "So, what do you think? She's screaming foul play."

"So where's the body?" Avery asked. "Where's the car?"

"And not any car. A Mercedes. Tough to lose one of those around here." Matt pursed his lips. "But why would this woman lie?"

"We see a lot of that in journalism. Everybody wants their fifteen minutes of fame. To feel important. Or in this woman's case, maybe to rationalize why her boyfriend hasn't called."

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly time for her meeting at Gallagher's. She stood. "I've got to go. Danny Gallagher is expecting me in at two." She looked at Buddy. "Thanks for taking all this time to talk to me, I appreciate it."

"If something comes to mind, I'll let you know." He came around the desk and kissed her cheek. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I always am."

"Good girl."

Matt touched her arm. "I'll walk you out."

They exited the station and stepped into the bright midday sun. Avery dug her sunglasses out of her handbag. She slipped them on and looked up to find him gazing at her.

"What were you and Dad talking about?"

"A box of newspaper clippings I found in Dad's closet. They were all concerning the same event, the Sallie Waguespack murder."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"It doesn't?"

"That's the story that blew this little burg wide open."

"I hardly remembered it until I read those clippings today."

"Because of Dad, I lived it." He grimaced. "The night of the murder, I heard him with Mom. He was…crying. It's the only time I ever heard him cry."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I feel like such an ostrich. First Dad, now learning this. I wonder-" She bit the words back and shook her head. "I need to go. Danny's expecting-"

"You wonder what?" he asked, touching her arm. She let out a constricted-sounding breath. "I'm starting to wonder just what kind of person I am."

"You were young. It wasn't your tragedy."

"And what of now? What about my dad? Was that my tragedy?"

"Avery, you can't keep beating yourself up about this. You didn't light that match. He did."

But if she had been here for him, would he still have done it?

"I've got to go, Matt. Danny's waiting." She started off. He called her name, stopping her. She turned.

"Next Sunday? Spring Fest?"

"With you?"

He shot her his cocky smile. The one that had always had her saying yes when she should have been saying no. "If you think you could take an entire day of my company?"

She returned the smile. "I think I could manage it."

"Great. I'll give you a call about the time."

Pleased, she watched him head back to his cruiser. In that moment, he looked sixteen. Full of the machismo of youth, buoyed by a yes from the opposite sex.

"If you're not serious, just stay away. Just…stay…away."

Her smile slipped as she remembered Cherry's warning. Avery shook off the ripple of unease that moved over her. She was being ridiculous. Cherry was a sweet girl who was worried about her brother. Matt was lucky to have someone who cared so much about him.