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Field of Danger
Ramona Richards


Who killed my father?Eyewitness to a murder, April Presley wants to answer the deputy sheriff's harrowing question. But she can't . She barely caught a glimpse of the crime through the deep Tennessee cornfield, and cannot recall anything to help the investigation. Or can she?Daniel Rivers is certain that April remembers more of his father's death than she realizes. And the killer agrees. In the race to uncover April's missing memory before the killer finds her, Daniel is the only one she can trust to keep her safe. Yet will he stay by her side when the shocking truth is unveiled?









Her house had been destroyed!


Her mind clicked like a telegraph through what would have to be replaced. The television, the carpet, the curtains that hung half off their rods…

The curtains.

April froze, her eyes narrowing. She looked at the police officer next to her. “Did you close the drapes?”

He shook his head, and Daniel gestured toward the window. “Open them.”

Picking his way through the shards of April’s life, the man fumbled through the ripped cloth for the cord, then slowly drew back the drapes.

At the sight of the windows, Daniel gasped out a low, choked prayer. “Dear God, save us.”

April’s eyes widened as her breath left her. She stumbled back against Daniel, who braced her, his hands closing on her shoulders.

The block letters trailed across the glass in smeared reddish-bronze lipstick, and the splintered tubes clustered beneath the window, crushed into the carpet.

The message was simple.

YOU TALK

YOU DIE




RAMONA RICHARDS


A writer and editor since 1975, Ramona Richards has worked on staff with a number of publishers. Ramona has also freelanced with more than twenty magazine and book publishers and has won awards for both her fiction and nonfiction. She’s written everything from sales-training video scripts to book reviews, and her latest articles have appeared in Today’s Christian Woman, College Bound and Special Ed Today. She sold a story about her daughter to Chicken Soup for the Caregiver’s Soul, and Secrets of Confidence, a book of devotionals, is available from Barbour Publishing.

In 2004, the God Allows U-Turns Foundation, in conjunction with the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association (AWSA), chose Ramona for their “Strength of Choice” award, and in 2003, AWSA nominated Ramona for Best Fiction Editor of the Year. The Evangelical Press Association presented her with an award for reporting in 2003, and in 1989 she won the Bronze Award for Best Original Dramatic Screenplay at the Houston International Film Festival. A member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and the Romance Writers of America, she has five other novels complete or in development.




Field of Danger

Ramona Richards








For God hath not given us the spirit of fear;

but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7


To Phyllis, for all your advice and love.

I didn’t choose you as Rachel’s co-conservator;

God did. I’m just the grateful one.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


When the shotgun went off, April Presley dropped her thermos and screamed.

Hearing her own scream scared her almost as much as the man with the gun did, and April clamped both hands over her mouth as she watched her next-door neighbor, Levon Rivers, crumple in the middle of the newly plowed section of his field. Levon and his killer were almost fifty yards away, but even at that distance, April could see the blossom of red on Levon’s chest and a cold brace of fear flooded through her.

Then another screech burst through her tightly clamped hands as the killer swung around toward her, his face a blurry mask to her dazed, bewildered eyes. Without hesitation, he lifted the gun and fired again.

April ran.



The morning had started out so peacefully.

As usual, April had spent her morning half on business and half on enjoying the luscious garden of flowers, herbs and vegetables behind her cottage. Since moving to the tiny town of Caralinda, Tennessee, April had found solace and a kind of spiritual comfort in her gardening. Levon, whose cornfield ran right up to the edge of April’s yard, had given her tips that had turned the wimpy cluster of plants into a thriving garden that filled the morning air with the scent of roses, lavender, sage, fuchsia, rosemary and a whole forest of day lilies.

In turn, April brought Levon a thermos of cold lemonade every day that he worked in the field. The sound of his tractor or truck thumping down the field road that ran alongside her house was her cue. Around ten in the morning, she’d wend her way through his cornfield to wherever he worked. Lemonade in the mornings was her token of thanks, and delivering it was usually much more of a joy than a chore.

Yet today, she had barely stepped from between the dense rows of stalks when the shot rang out, her gesture of friendship suddenly putting her in the line of fire. April fled, grateful for high summer and a corn patch thick enough to hide her, grateful that she had walked this field enough with Levon to keep her footing among the dry ruts and clumps of earth. She knew how to keep her head low and her arms out to push away the sharp green blades that slapped around her as she ran.

She was especially grateful that a shotgun had a limited range.

All these things helped her evade the killer, and April could hear his grunts of frustration as he tried to catch her through the corn, then heard the blast that did little but rain shotgun pellets harmlessly over the field. Finally April stopped, holding her sides and trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t run any farther. She’d have to take her chances with staying hidden. She could still hear him stomping about, raging through the corn, the noise growing closer, then moving away, constantly demanding that she show herself. She could stay hidden a long time in Levon’s expansive field, especially if the killer kept making a racket covering the sounds of her own movements as she slipped out of his path. But April knew if someone didn’t come, he’d continue to search. And eventually find her.

April’s knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground. Adrenaline and fear fogged her mind and made her arms and legs tremble uncontrollably. She needed to rest, make a plan. Calm down, girl. Lord, I need Your help. Guide me out of this. Show me what I need to do. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them to her, trying to still her quivering limbs. If she could only get home, call for help. But she’d gotten so turned around she knew she wouldn’t be able to find the path without standing up fully to get her bearings…and putting herself back in the killer’s sight. How would she get out of the field without the killer seeing her? And had he seen her well enough to know who she was?

These questions echoed in her mind. Her muscle tremors quieted, but her thoughts still swirled out of control, pushing her close to panic. She fought to sit still, to focus.

Normally the smell of the ripening corn and tangy scent of the leaves refreshed her. Today, they were oppressive. The hard-packed earth absorbed the sun while the dense rows of corn blocked most of the wind. April felt as if she were sitting in an oven. Her stomach growled, and she held her breath, waiting to see if the killer had heard it. What do I do now?

He hadn’t. The killer’s calls actually lessened as he moved farther away. But she could still hear him, his actions muffled by the plants and the stifling air of midday. April dared to stand up just enough to get her position, then ducked back down and closed her eyes, trying to plan. Her home and Levon’s bordered a field road south of these acres of corn, but the shooter still prowled between her and those points of safety. To the east lay the open field where the shooting had occurred and west of her, a narrow country road wandered through the landscape. The open land in both of those directions could easily put her into direct contact or line of sight with the killer, with no place to hide. Not a good idea.

North? April opened her eyes. Now that direction held a glimmer of hope. Just beyond the cornfield…

Soft footsteps padded in the dirt behind her, and April spun around, her heart almost stopping with fear. An old woman stood there, her long white hair held down by a wide-brimmed straw hat and her finger pressed to her lips, indicating that April should remain silent. Beside her, a white German shepherd stood, head held low and pressed against the woman’s hip.

Gulping air in relief, April nodded, and the woman motioned for her to follow her. Moving slowly, the three of them headed north, and April’s hope bloomed as her panic faded enough for her to realize exactly who she followed.

Everyone in Caralinda called Lucretia Stockard “Aunt Suke,” but April hadn’t yet been able to find out why. And, at this moment, she cared very little about the odd nickname. All that mattered was the woman’s house, just past the northern corner of Levon’s property. She followed Aunt Suke’s careful, silent footsteps as they moved slowly toward the edge of the field. At the end of the row, Aunt Suke paused and turned her head, listening. The dog stood still, head tilted to watch Aunt Suke, waiting for her command. The angry shouts had stopped, but April could still hear the sound of cornstalks being slashed aside not too far away and rapidly coming closer. Aunt Suke took one step forward, looked left and right, then motioned for April to come up next to her.

They were standing at the edge of Aunt Suke’s backyard. The soft expanse of dark green grass led right to the back of the brick antebellum Stockard mansion. At the back of the house, slanted double doors leading to a root cellar stood open, their white slats gleaming in the summer sun.

Aunt Suke pointed at the root cellar and said one word. “Run.”

April fled toward the safety of the 170-year-old house, even though the yard felt as if it were the size of a football field. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see Aunt Suke and the dog running alongside her. As the three neared the doors, she heard a rage-filled roar echo over the field. He’d seen them, and even as Aunt Suke shoved her hard down the stone steps into the cellar and slammed the doors, April knew the planks of wood wouldn’t hold against the killer’s rage.

With a movement made familiar by years of living in the giant home, Aunt Suke slid a wooden bar through the handles of the cellar doors and swung around, eyes bright with command. “Polly!” Her voice snapped the word out in a harsh whisper. “Upstairs! And stay!”

April watched as the white shepherd turned toward a set of steps to the left of the doors and trotted upward. Aunt Suke then motioned April to the right, where a trapdoor was barely visible in the shadows. Aunt Suke hustled her down the ladder and followed quickly behind her into the pitch-dark room.

The older woman pulled the door shut, just as the first blast of the shotgun thundered against the cellar doors.



Daniel Rivers refused to believe what he’d heard over the radio. The county dispatcher who took the 911 call apparently did believe it, however, and her usually dispassionate voice shook as she alerted the units. Daniel stared at the radio a moment. This had to be a prank. Or he’d not heard it right.

Why would there be a shooting at Dad’s?

He picked up the radio mike. “Unit A12. Base, repeat the call.”

Silence followed, then his cell phone rang. He checked the number. It was the station. His fingers trembled a bit when he answered. “Rivers.”

Martha Williams had been a dispatcher for the Bell County sheriff’s department for almost forty years, and her nasal, drawling voice normally was as steady as a low river on a hot day. Now the voice shook with shock. “Daniel, it’s true. The 911 call came from Aunt Suke. She says someone shot Levon and is trying to shoot April Presley.”

Ice formed in Daniel’s gut, and the images of his father and April Presley flashed through his mind. His father’s face, leathery and creased from long years of hot sun and bright laughter, brought forth memories of their last fight, just a few days ago. Daniel loved his dad, but their relationship had evolved into what Daniel thought of as “civil animosity.”

April, on the other hand…“April,” Daniel whispered. From the moment he’d met her at one of his dad’s infamous barbecues, Daniel had responded to her as he had no other woman. His chest tightened whenever she came near him, and the urge to hold her close and protect her surged through him.

She’d been gentle as she had turned down his invitation to dinner, explaining that it was too soon after her divorce. Daniel knew he should have moved on to other women, but he couldn’t. In his heart he knew April was the one he was supposed to wait for.

Now he just hoped he hadn’t waited too long.

“This has to be wrong.” He cleared his throat.

“Aunt Suke’s getting on in years. Her eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to be. Maybe…maybe there’s been a mistake.”

“Maybe. The sheriff is on his way, though, to check it out.”

Daniel reached to start the engine on his patrol cruiser. “I am, too. Thanks, Martha.”

“Be careful, baby.”

“You know I will.” Daniel dropped the phone and gravel spun as he slid the car into a U-turn away from the speed trap he’d been watching and toward his father’s farm. He hit the siren, which screamed as the cruiser raced down the road. Daniel pushed it hard through the curves of roads he’d driven since he was fifteen.

He didn’t want to think about what Martha had said. It had to be wrong. Why would anyone want to shoot his father or April? Everyone in town loved Levon, and April—No, he couldn’t even stand the thought of anyone hurting April. He pressed down harder on the accelerator. He’d be there soon, and then he’d see that this was all just a big mistake.

Suke Stockard was wrong. She had to be wrong. “Please, Lord,” Daniel whispered under his breath. “Please let her be wrong.”



April flinched as the killer crashed into the cellar, the wooden door splintering under his assault. Aunt Suke clutched her arm, pressing her harder against the gritty wall at their backs. The room, pitch-black as any cave, smelled sour and acidic, like old dough, potatoes, onions and garlic. The taste in her mouth was acidic, too—a mix of adrenaline and fear.

“April Presley!” The killer’s voice sounded flat and cold and far too close. “You can’t hide forever. You, too, Suke Stockard. I will kill you.”

Upstairs, Polly set up a raucous series of barks and yelps, and they could hear her running through the rooms.

A second blast from the gun made both women jump, and April bit her fist to keep from screaming. Terror clenched tight around her, making her shake.

Aunt Suke slid an arm around her, pulling her tight against her. Her thin limbs were wiry with tense muscles, and April wished she could draw in some of the older woman’s strength. She inhaled deeply, trying to remain still and silent, not daring to relax, even as they heard his footsteps on the stairs, hard thumps headed upward.

Then another sound reached April, one that made her heart leap for joy. Police sirens.

The killer heard them, as well. “This ain’t over!” His hoarse, raspy voice echoed through the house as he ascended the stairs and headed toward the backyard. “The cops can’t protect you. Before this day is out, you’re both dead!”




TWO


Daniel skidded the car into the familiar driveway, then turned down the field road that ran along the edge of the corn, toward the police lights he could see flashing up ahead. A cluster of emergency vehicles circled the crime scene, and he stopped the cruiser near the sheriff’s car. He got out, still denying the growing dread in his heart.

When Daniel saw the strained horror in Sheriff Ray Taylor’s face, however, he knew there had been no mistake. Then he spotted the blue tarp over the body on the ground, and plunged toward it with a gasp of pain. It took Ray and two other deputies to stop him, and he shoved back hard, his shoes digging into the dirt and scuffing backward as he pushed. “Let me see him!”

Ray blocked his way. “Daniel! Listen! I’m not going to keep you from seeing him, but you have to listen first. Look at me!”

Daniel stopped pushing against the older man, but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the blue tarp until Ray repeated the command with all the power of his Marine training. “Rivers, look at me!”

Daniel did, and Ray’s voice softened. “Your father took a shotgun blast to the chest at close range. Probably 12-gauge, from the look of it. It’s not something you really want to see, and I don’t care what you saw on the streets of Nashville. This is your father.”

Daniel felt like a block of ice, numb and distant. “I have to see him.”

Ray nodded. “We’ve cleared a spot so the coroner can get to him without messing up any evidence. There are footprints we still have to cast. I’ll take you.”

With Ray’s hand on his shoulder as comfort and guide, Daniel stepped toward the tarp slowly, hard clumps of the plowed ground popping into dust as he trod on them. Everyone around him fell totally silent. Only Ray and Daniel approached the body, Ray bending to pull back the tarp, uncovering Levon’s face.

Daniel dropped to his knees next to his father, his eyes burning. Levon’s face, gray and speckled with brownish-red drops, seemed oddly peaceful. It had been a long time since Daniel had seen that kind of calm, that kind of peacefulness on his father’s face—not since his mother had died five years ago. In that instant, Daniel felt a strange sense of comfort, and he knew, without a doubt, that his father was with God—and his mother.

“Tell her I still love her.” The words came out in a choked rasp, then Daniel gave in to his own racking grief.



April wrapped her hands around a cold glass of tangy iced tea, twisting the glass round and round on the table, still not able to drink. Her hands still shook too hard to pick up the glass. From her position at the large oak table in Aunt Suke’s kitchen, she could hear the fading voices at the front of the house, but couldn’t make out what was being said. It was just as well; she didn’t really want to know. The sturdy table and solid chair beneath her felt unmovable, even though April’s world still spun around her.

She barely noticed when the young officer who had come in response to Aunt Suke’s second 911 call left, the front door closing firmly behind him. Just moments before he had sat here at this table, holding April’s hand and reassuring her that the sheriff’s team would find the killer. He’d taken a preliminary statement from her, and while he’d tried to be kind and tactful, he had confirmed what April already knew in her heart.

Levon was dead. He had not just been wounded or knocked out. The close-range shot had taken the life of her friend. More than a friend, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. Levon had been like family to April since she’d moved to Caralinda almost a year ago, eager to be away from city life and her crazed former in-laws down in Nashville. Just last week, he had repaired a broken window at her house—one of many things he’d helped her with over the past year.

More than a friend. Almost a father. Certainly better than her own father had been.

April closed her eyes and tears leaked down her cheeks. What now, Lord? What’s next? He wants to kill me. What do I do?



A mix of denial and anger settled over Daniel. His mind swirled with questions and wild speculations, even as his body felt remote, distant from him. He leaned against the fender of his cruiser, arms crossed, watching as his fellow officers hovered just outside the crime scene while the Bell County Coroner examined the body of Levon Rivers. Since Daniel was the victim’s son, Ray had banned him from the site and the investigation, but Ray couldn’t force him to leave, even though he had insisted that Daniel go home and start doing whatever it is you do to bury your father.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought “It’s not real. He’s not dead” hovered, trying to break through. He wanted to let it, to wake up from this nightmare occurring in the bright July sun. Wake up and see Levon standing there, laughing at them for their worry.

Instead the officers kept working. Scouring the ground for evidence—marking footprints, blood spatter, stray buckshot pellets. The blue tarp had been pulled away as the coroner worked, and now one of her assistants stood by with a black body bag. In his years as a cop, Daniel had seen a lot of body bags, but somehow the grief associated with them had never struck home. Not like this.

Lord, what am I going to do?

Behind him, the telltale crunch of tires on gravel warned him of another car’s arrival, and he turned slightly to see Deputy Jeff Gage get out of a cruiser and motion for Ray. Ray approached, one look at Daniel telling him to stay put. He and Gage met in the driveway several yards away from Daniel.

Gage, tall and lanky, moved with the grace of the long-distance runner he was. A gentle man who seemed barely tough enough to be a cop, Gage had a voice made for an unamplified stage. No matter how softly he spoke, his voice carried.

So Daniel had no trouble hearing Gage’s report to Ray about his visit to Suke Stockard’s.

“Talk to me,” Ray said.

Gage shook his head. “Not good. April is holed up at Aunt Suke’s but says she never saw the shooter’s face. His back was to her, then she ran. Can’t blame her for not looking back. The guy blew the back door off the cellar over there, put a couple of holes in the floor, looking for her and Aunt Suke. Claims he’ll kill them.”

Ray growled. “Probably to keep them quiet.”

“Looks like.”

“Does he know who she is?”

Gage nodded. “He called her by name.”

“You left them alone?”

Gage shook his head. “New guy in a car out front. Another at the back. Knew it would be the secondary crime scene. Should be enough to keep the guy away, at least until dark.”

Ray nodded. “Good. Get over to April’s house and make sure it’s secure. We’re about done here. When we are, I’ll get her to the station for a complete statement and we’ll take a look at that basement. Then we’ll decide what to do to keep her safe.”

The sheriff tapped Gage on the shoulder, and the lanky deputy started toward the crime scene. Ray hesitated, then came to Daniel. His face was stern, but his voice held the gentleness of a coach talking to an injured player. Ray Taylor was young for a sheriff, still in his thirties, but he was a widower as well as a former Marine officer, and wise beyond his years. “Rivers, go home. Call your family.”

Daniel shook his head. “I can’t. I need to be—”

“No. You can’t be a part of this, Rivers. You know that.”

“Ray—”

The sheriff’s voice dropped in tone again as he interrupted. “Daniel, listen to me. You cannot be here. You need to call your family, take care of arrangements. Let us do our jobs. This is a time for you to be his son, not a cop. You stick to the details, all the things that have to be done. They’ll get you through it.”

Daniel started to protest again, but the expression on Ray’s face told him that his widowed boss spoke from personal experience and wouldn’t budge on this point. Finally he nodded and rubbed a hand over a face swollen by grief. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“The calls. Make one to Beck’s Funeral Home. They’ll walk you through it.”

Daniel pushed away from the car and reached for the driver’s door. “But you’ll keep me updated, right?”

“Like we would any family. I promise.”

Daniel got in the car and backed it out of the driveway, aware that Ray kept his eyes on him until the car was out of sight. He knew Ray didn’t quite trust him to just give up and go home to sit with the phone.

Ray knew him well.

A hundred yards from the field path, the corn ran right up to the road, with only a few feet separating the stalks from the pavement. Daniel pulled off into the dirt there, out of sight, and cut the engine of the cruiser. Gripping the wheel with both hands, he squeezed as hard as he could, straining every muscle in his arms and body, desperate to drive the numbness away, to find the anger again.

His father. Levon. Dad. A low growl grew from deep in his gut, expanding into a rage-filled roar that filled the car, which rocked as he shook the wheel furiously. Daniel’s eyes burned and his throat turned raw as the wrath slowly passed, leaving him feeling empty again, as if part of his soul had been ripped away.

Daniel breathed deeply as dozens of images flashed through his mind, in rapid succession. His father on his tractor, in the backyard garden, stretched out in his recliner with the television remote slipping from his hands as he fell asleep. Levon in church, his face beaming whenever Daniel sang a solo from the choir loft.

Levon Rivers, born in North Carolina to a Native American mother and white father, had one of the most expressive faces Daniel had ever seen, and all his emotions shone through. Anguish over his wife’s death, joy over a good baseball game, melancholy over memories, serenity over the comfort he took in his faith. The thought of his father cold, still and silent seemed so wrong.

Levon always spoke his mind. So did Daniel, which had led to legendary fights between father and son. The disappointment over Daniel’s decision to become a cop instead of a farmer had echoed between them, fueling arguments for years. Although Levon had finally grown proud of his son’s work, their relationship had felt the strain. Daniel knew he and his father hadn’t been as close as they could have been—as close as Levon had wanted them to be.

Levon adored his family, took pride in his town, cherished his friends. His annual weekend-long barbecue emphasized all of that. Levon loved having people over, and at the last barbecue, he had seemed intent on introducing April Presley to everyone in Caralinda.

April. She’d been here almost a year, but had kept mostly to herself. They’d talked, usually at Levon’s, but he didn’t really know her. Gage had said she’d witnessed the shooting, then been chased and threatened by the gunman, but he hadn’t said if she was hurt.

And physical injury aside, Daniel knew April had to be traumatized. Levon had been a good friend to her and no one should have to watch a friend die like that. Daniel knew that firsthand. Jeff Gage’s youth could work against an interrogation if April had a traumatic memory block of some kind. He had only been a cop for a few years. Without experience, Gage could push her in the wrong direction, make her so frightened of her memories that she’d blank them out permanently.

“But I could help.” Daniel had been with a number of witnesses to horrible crimes who could barely remember their own names at first. In Iraq. On the streets of Nashville. He should talk to her. Calm her down. Show her how to deal with her fear and pain. Make her feel safe again.

Daniel shook his head. No. Ray would have his hide if he talked to the primary witness.

But April was more than just a witness. And he couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning her when he might be able to help her through her pain.

With that thought, the drive to see April strengthened. Giving in, Daniel reached for the keys. He’d help April deal with what she’d seen. And then, freed from fear, her memory would come back, allowing Daniel to catch his father’s killer. She had to know more then she thought she did.

She had to.



Aunt Suke pushed a bowl full of fresh mint leaves toward April. “Have some. It’ll help.”

April reached for a leaf and twisted it several times, releasing the sweet scent and gentle oil, before dropping it into her iced-tea glass. “How did you know? I mean, what was happening in the field.”

“I heard the shotgun blast when he killed Levon—that was what brought me to the window. And then I saw him chasing you, firing that gun.” She waved her hand idly toward the kitchen’s ceiling. “We have four floors here, counting the cellar. Sixteen-foot ceilings. And the house is on top of a rise in the ground. From the top, I can see all the way to Robertson County. I called 911, and then went to get you.”

She paused, glancing with annoyance at a splintered hole in the floor near the stove. “Can’t believe that wretched buzzard blew a hole in my floor.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t us.” April frowned. “Why did you hide us downstairs?”

Aunt Suke cleared her throat. “He had to have known that I’d called the police, and that his time was running out. Folks in a hurry usually see only the obvious.”

“The stairs.”

“Right. That’s why I sent Polly upstairs to make noise.”

April glanced at the complacent dog lying on the floor beside the table. “Wouldn’t that put her in danger?”

“Trust me. The shooter was in a lot more danger than Polly.”

April shuddered. “He called my name.”

“Hmm.” Aunt Suke watched her a few more moments, then asked softly, “How close were you?”

April shook her head. “Not close. Like I told the officer, I couldn’t see who shot Levon. He had his back to me. But I could see Levon, see the—” Her voice broke. “I can’t.” Her gaze focused on the wooden table that had been polished to a silky finish by years of use.

Aunt Suke sipped her tea. “The sheriff will be back here shortly to take us both to the station for our complete statements. They’ve started clearing the scene. You need to get ready to talk to them. Ray Taylor is a good man, but it’ll be all business.”

April frowned. “You sound like you’ve been through this before.”

Aunt Suke pushed a long strand of white hair behind one ear. She usually let her hair hang freely, and April had often seen her working in the garden, the wind swirling her hair around her head like a cloud. Only on Sundays did she neatly contain it with a thick barrette clasped just below her neckline. “I may not get out much these days, but there still isn’t much I don’t know about how this town runs.”

April smiled, and Aunt Suke joined her, reaching across the table to grasp one of April’s hands. “That’s better. You can’t let this shake you to the core.”

April heard the plaintiveness in her own voice. “I saw a man get killed!”

Aunt Suke tightened her grasp. “I know. It rips you. But you have to hold it together. They have to find out who did this. If you let it shake you, you won’t be able to help them.”

“I’m not sure I can anyway.”

“You may know more than you realize.” Aunt Suke suddenly stood. “You need some snicker doodles.”

“Cookies?” April asked weakly.

Aunt Suke paused and looked at April steadily. “Trust me. It’s going to be the normal, everyday things that get you through this. Cookies. Tea. Friends. Family. What about your sisters?”

“June’s not back from that conference in California yet. I haven’t called her because I know she’d want to come home early, and she doesn’t need to. She flies home next week.” April sighed. “I love my sister, but to be honest, I don’t know if I can handle June right now. She’ll want to take over everything. Tell me what to do and tell Ray how to run the investigation.”

“You don’t think Ray could rein her in?”

April shook her head. “They’re not close enough yet. He’d just irritate her.”

“What about Lindsey?”

April paused, not really wanting to cross into this territory and talk about her other sister. “Lindsey and I aren’t on good terms right now. We talk, but we’re not what you’d call close. Besides, she’s still at a culinary school in D.C.” April shook her head. “No. I don’t have many friends here in Caralinda. And I lost my closest friend today.”

Raising an eyebrow, Aunt Suke reached out to clasp her hand. “Well, you found a new one, as well. Two, if you count Polly.” After one last squeeze to April’s hand, she stood.

As Aunt Suke went to the cookie jar, Polly perked up, and April looked around the industrial-size kitchen. High-ceilinged and filled with dark woods and polished bronze appliances, it was a practical combination of old and new. She sighed. There was such a romantic nature about a house this old and historic. Levon had spent many an hour talking about the Stockards when April first moved to town, especially the house, which was one of the oldest in Caralinda.

Levon had said…

April pushed the thought away and brushed another tear from her eye.

The plate of cinnamon-laced cookies added a pungent aroma to the air, and Aunt Suke tossed one to Polly, who caught it neatly with a powerful snap of her jaws. Aunt Suke sat, waving a hand at April. “Stop thinking about Levon and my house and eat a cookie.”

April sighed. “How did you know?”

Aunt Suke shrugged. “You’re going to have flashing thoughts about Levon for a long time to come. It’s natural. Part of grieving. Part of the questioning. As time goes by, you’ll want to think about anything but what happened in the field. Your mind will wander, especially to those normal things.” She smiled. “As to the house…happens every time someone sees inside for the first time. When this is over, I’ll give you a tour.”

“I’d like that. I love old homes. I was raised in one. But you’re right, the tour should wait until later, when my mind is clear again.” April focused on her tea again. “I can’t believe Levon is dead. He was a good friend. It just doesn’t seem real.”

“Which is why you’re not grieving for him yet. You will. It’ll be real all too soon.”

The doorbell stopped April’s reply, sending a long series of melodic gongs echoing through the house. Polly stood with a soft woof and bounded out of the kitchen. April flinched, almost involuntarily, and the two women looked at each other a moment.

Then Aunt Suke straightened an already stiffened spine. “Probably just the sheriff. That turkey buzzard murderer may be determined, but even he would have better sense than to just ring my doorbell.”

Both stood and April followed Aunt Suke from the kitchen through the connecting rooms, down a hallway to the front of the house and into a long, elegant entrance foyer. Polly waited at the door as Aunt Suke looked through the peephole then unlocked and opened the massive oaken door to her home.

Daniel Rivers stepped inside without invitation, immediately spotting April. At the sight of the devastation on his face, Levon’s death abruptly became real.

She took one step toward Daniel, then burst into tears.




THREE


Anger drained away from Daniel as he closed his arms around April’s shoulders. His shoulders dropped as he held her, whispering into her hair. “I’m sorry. I know you loved him, too.”

April pushed back and looked up at him, a tinge of red returning to her skin, brighter because the rest of her face remained so pale. She nodded and stepped away from him, looking away, her gaze suddenly distant. “Like a father.”

Aunt Suke tugged at his arm, and Daniel looked down at her.

“Does Ray know you’re here? He’ll have your skin on his wall if he doesn’t.”

Daniel heard the truth in her words and looked down at April again, wishing she’d let him hold her, comfort her. Comfort each other. But April would not look at him, even though tears still streaked her face.

He focused on Aunt Suke. Her white hair spread out over her shoulders like a wide fan, and her blue eyes flared with the fire of a mother bear protecting her cub. “You shouldn’t be here, Daniel. You can’t make me believe Ray wants you working on this.”

A spear of annoyance shot through Daniel, but she was right. Daniel had spent more than twenty years trying to figure out how Aunt Suke knew everything about everybody in town. Then, about ten years ago, he’d given up and accepted it as a fact of life in Caralinda.

Ray would have a fit if he knew Daniel had stopped at Aunt Suke’s. Ray’s strict instructions to stay away from the case and the scene had sound reasoning behind them. Not only would Daniel have no objectivity about the murder, but his involvement would be a perfect target for a defense attorney. Ray had told him to go home and start making calls to his family.

Except that he couldn’t. He had to do something, and he knew that he could interrogate April with an experience almost everyone on the force except Ray lacked. Only, he hadn’t exactly gotten off to a professional start. He should be asking questions. Instead, he wanted to hold her close and make the pain go away.

Daniel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to shove down the grief roiling inside. Letting the breath out slowly, he slid his hat off his head and ran one hand through his black hair.

“Sorry, Aunt Suke.” He looked at the woman standing behind her. “My apologies, April. It’s just that…well, Dad, he…” He stopped, trying to gather thoughts scattered to the winds by grief. “I knew you were here and that you saw…”

As his voice trailed off, Aunt Suke softened and reached for his arm. Polly, sensing the change in mood, relaxed and slowly wagged her tail. “Well, you’re here now. Get out of the door and stop letting all my cold air out. Sit down in the front parlor and get yourself together.” With small, affectionate prods, she ushered them all into the only room in a fifty-mile radius that could legitimately be called a “front parlor” and opened thick damask drapes to let in the bright sun.

Obviously a room for entertaining ladies, the elegant, spotless parlor had tall windows, a tasteful selection of Queen Anne furnishings and a soft, Oriental rug over a polished hardwood floor. The graceful, feminine room made Daniel a little nervous, and he immediately checked his shoes to see if he’d tracked anything in.

Aunt Suke caught the move, smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Today is not a day to worry about a little dirt. Sit.”

He did, on a sofa that looked too fragile to hold his weight. But it felt solid beneath him, and he relaxed a little, watching as April perched uneasily on a small chair on the other side of a low coffee table, her tall, slender frame making the slightest of depressions on the cushion. She was avoiding eye contact. Was she embarrassed at the way she’d cried on his shoulder? He hoped not. He was glad that she’d felt she could turn to him for comfort. The only part that bothered him was how she’d pulled away when the tears finally stopped. He wouldn’t have minded holding her a little longer.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. I’m sure this must be hard enough for you without me making it worse. I’m just…I’m sorry about your dad.” Her tight voice held a slight tremor. “He was a good man. A good friend. I wish I could help you find the man responsible. But I didn’t really see…just the gun…and then I ran and hid in the corn.”

As April’s words faded, Aunt Suke sat next to Daniel and spoke softly to April. “You’ve been shook to the core, and who can blame you? There’s no call to be apologizing for that.”

Daniel looked down at the rug, sorrow and frustration tearing a hole in his entire being over his own loss, and what all of this was doing to April. He knew this was exactly why Ray had told him to go home; he had to get control of his feelings or he wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.

He looked up again, this time meeting the uncertain look in April’s bright green eyes dead-on. “I can help you with that.”

“What?”

“I can help,” he repeated to April. “I know how rough it is to see someone get shot. I know it disrupts everything you thought right and good. That anyone could turn a gun on another person just doesn’t register with most of us, and that’s the way it should be. And I know you’re terrified.”

“Not exactly.”

He stopped, waiting for her to go on, watching as she took a deep breath and sat a bit straighter in the chair.

“I mean, I was with that man shoving his way through the corn, firing shots in the air, threatening me in the cellar—”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “Did he call you by name or were the threats just wild?”

April looked very small and still in her chair. “He called my name. Said he would kill me.” She swallowed hard. “Kill us. Said the cops couldn’t protect us.”

“He’s wrong.” Daniel leaned forward on his seat. “We can help you. I can help you. I know it’s hard right now, with the shock and horror blurring your memories, but if we work together, I think I can help you identify the killer.”

Silence covered the room a moment, then Aunt Suke spoke softly. “You mean this is someone we all know.”

Slowly Daniel nodded. “This wasn’t a robbery or a carjacking. The killer didn’t take anything but my father’s life. This was someone with a personal grudge, not to mention someone who knew Levon well enough to know where to find him. There’s not a doubt in my mind—the killer’s a local.”

April took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve not been here long enough to make many friends. Aside from my sister, I barely know anyone but Levon, and the people he’d introduced me to.”

All her muscles seemed to tighten. “But Levon didn’t have enemies, did he? He was a great man. Everyone loved him. How could anyone want or have a reason to do this?”

Good question. One Daniel had already been turning over in his mind a hundred times. Levon Rivers was not only a good man, he was a beloved man. Daniel had never heard an ill word against his father the entire time he was growing up, and when he’d thrown a sixtieth birthday barbecue for Levon four years ago, the entirety of Caralinda showed up.

Whoever the shooter was, he’d managed to keep his grudge against Levon well-hidden. Would he be as successful at hiding his guilt now that the crime was done? Daniel was afraid so, which made April’s blocked memories even more important.

He had to try a different tactic.

Daniel put his hat on the sofa beside him and leaned farther forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he focused on her eyes. “I know that you took him lemonade every morning he worked in the fields. He told me. He loved that about you, said it made him feel remembered, especially when he was doing something on his own, no hired folks about.”

Her eyes glistened a bit at this, and she nodded.

“So you were on the way this morning, walking through the field.”

She nodded again. “Through the corn.”

“He planted it pretty dense this year.”

Again, she agreed. “A different hybrid he was trying. Harder walking than last year, but he said it would make the harvest easier, with the way the combines worked. But it allowed a lot of weeds to grow up in some places.” She smiled slightly, as if remembering something. “Levon encouraged me to walk around the fields, to use the field road to make it easier, but it was still quicker to go through. I told him that the harder hiking was good for me, that I needed the exercise. He laughed.”

I’m sure he did, thought Daniel. April stood almost as tall as his own six-foot height, and her lean, muscular frame reminded him of an Olympic athlete. She had been softer, less muscular when she’d arrived in Caralinda a year ago, a beautiful, vibrant woman he’d wanted very much to spend more time with.

He’d even asked her out, but she’d told him that her divorce still stung and she couldn’t manage anything but friendship. He’d understood, sort of. He’d been through breakups, but nothing as serious as a divorce.

April had obviously been healed by Caralinda, however. The days in the sun, walking the fields with his father, and the work in her own garden had slimmed her down even more and made her skin glow. Her emerald-green eyes had always been bright against her reddish-brown hair and the freckles that splattered across her face, but now they gleamed as they met his focused gaze without flinching.

She knows what I’m doing, he realized. Good. He cleared his throat.

“Did you hear anything before you stepped out of the corn?”

April thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“What did you see first?”

She closed those emerald eyes, and her brow furrowed. “His back. The shooter’s. Then your dad.”

“Was he taller than Dad?”

April hesitated a moment, trying to remember. “N-no. I could still see the top of your dad’s head.” She held her hands about two feet apart. “But broader. I think.”

“What was the shooter wearing?”

She hesitated. “Jeans. Dirty. Beat-up jeans. A light shirt. White…or pale blue. Maybe.”

“Anything on his head?”

“A ball cap.”

“What color?”

Another pause, then she shook her head.

“What did you see next?”

The furrows deepened. “I saw…” Her eyes, still shut, clenched tighter. “Levon stepped back so I saw his face, then there was the shot….” She stopped, and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

April opened her eyes. “I can’t remember anything after that. I just…ran.”

Daniel pressed down hard on the frustration, the grief that threatened to boil over in him once more, and his already taut muscles clenched harder from the effort. She’d been doing so well, was clearly trying so hard. He’d gotten his hopes up that the memories were returning on their own by sheer force of will. But now she looked crushed all over again, even the little bit that she’d remembered hurting her all over again.

Daniel turned to Aunt Suke. “You called 911. You saw it?”

Aunt Suke shook her head. “I heard the first shot. By the time I got to one of the windows, all I could see was Levon on the ground, and two people tearing through the cornfield. When I realized one of them was April, I knew she’d probably seen what went down. I told the operator, then went after her.”

“Could you see the shooter?”

Aunt Suke wagged a hand toward the cornfield. “Nothing. By the time I got to the window, he was crashing around in the corn. All I could see was the barrel of the shotgun as he used it to push back the stalks.”

“Did either of you see a vehicle on either of the side roads? A car or a—”

The gongs of Aunt Suke’s doorbell, followed by a determined pounding on the door, interrupted him. Polly bolted for the door with a series of sharp barks.

“That’s probably Ray,” Aunt Suke said softly.

Daniel stood, nodding almost to himself. “I’ll get it. Take whatever he has to say.” He hoped Ray would understand why he had to do this.

The pounding sounded again, and Polly’s barks increased in volume. Daniel headed for the door, hat in hand. He herded Polly aside and pulled open the ancient door, faced Ray and waited.

Ray Taylor stared at him, his jaw clamped so tight that the muscles in his cheeks twitched. He stared at Daniel a moment, glanced briefly at Aunt Suke and then looked at April, who had taken up a position just to Daniel’s right. After a moment, Ray let out a long exhale, as much a snarl as a sigh, and looked back to Daniel. “Boy, if you don’t beat all. I will deal with you later.”

Ray’s gaze turned again to April. “Right now, Ms. Presley, you need to come with us.”

Alarm surged through Daniel at the sheriff’s statement. “What’s happened?”

Ray glared at him. “You need to go home.”

April stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Daniel’s arm. Whether she needed support or offered it, he wasn’t quite sure. “Please, Sheriff. What’s happened?”

Ray hesitated, obviously still perturbed with his disobedient deputy. He looked from her, to Daniel, then back, as if he’d made up his mind about something. “I sent an officer to secure your house, Ms. Presley. He just radioed to say there are signs that someone has broken in.”

April’s fingers closed viselike on Daniel’s arm, and he felt her body sway toward him, once again needing the support he was more than happy to give.




FOUR


“I want him to come. Please.” April hated the pleading sound in her voice, but she had to make the sheriff understand.

They stood in Aunt Suke’s driveway, Ray Taylor’s hand still on the top of his cruiser’s door, which he had opened for April. He had just ordered Daniel to go home. Again.

Ray growled under his breath. “Ms. Presley—” He stopped and took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “April. Listen, it’s bad policy to have family involved in these things, even if he’s a trained officer of the law. Bad for the case and good for any defense attorney.”

April glanced quickly at Daniel, who waited silently, his body tense but still, his ebony eyes focused on her. April knew he had to be a little wary of what she would say. Which was understandable, since she’d held him at bay since her arrival in Caralinda. But he’d asked her out so soon after her divorce that she’d had no choice but to turn him down. At that point she would have been skittish around almost any man.

They had not been around each other much since, even though Levon had clearly been on a campaign to get them together. He’d frequently given her updates about events in Daniel’s life, and suggested that Daniel would make an excellent husband. At first Levon’s matchmaking had been awkward, but after a bit, April had found it almost charming that he cared so deeply for his only son.

Daniel was a good man, and it had felt beautifully natural to lean on him, to cry on his shoulders. But she didn’t want to appear false or cloying at a time like this. April took a deep breath, searching for the words that would tell Ray how much she needed Daniel to be involved without sounding disingenuous. After all, Daniel wasn’t just a deputy sheriff in those moments; he also was a man devastated by his father’s murder, the son of the only real friend she’d made in Caralinda over the past year. And right now they both needed a friend.

“I understand that, Sheriff, but your deputy is also my friend. And right now I could use one with me.”

Daniel’s left eyebrow twitched, but he otherwise showed no reaction.

Ray Taylor snarled and turned his back as he returned to the driver’s side of the cruiser. “All right, get in, the both of you. You in front, April.”

Daniel held the door for her, then shut it as she buckled the seat belt. He got in behind her, and Ray turned the car out of Aunt Suke’s driveway and headed toward April’s house.

“What did Gage find?” Daniel asked.

Ray glanced in the rearview mirror. “When he found the front door open, he called for backup, and I sent two more officers over. The suspect has apparently been in the house, but it’s clear now.”

April clutched her hands together in her lap, suddenly aware of how cold they were. “Did he say how bad it was?”

Ray hesitated, then shook his head once.

He knows. It must be awful. April straightened in the seat, trying to steel herself to see what had happened to her beloved cottage. They drove the rest of the short distance in silence, and as the cruiser bumped and rolled slowly up April’s rough gravel driveway, she tried not to hyperventilate. She focused on Jeff Gage, noticing that he seemed anxious. She exhaled slowly, making herself sit still a moment. This, after all, was not her first break-in. Her parents’ house had been burglarized when she was a teenager, and her first home had been broken into not long after her wedding. In both cases, the thefts had been quick and dirty, removing electronics, guns and, in the second robbery, all her wedding gifts. You’ve been through this before. You know what it’s like. You’ll get through it again. Stay calm.

Ray parked the car, and they got out, walking slowly toward the steps leading up to the porch. April stood at the foot of them, staring at the open door of her home, an odd hollow feeling growing in her chest. Her breaths came faster, and a slight dizziness settled over her.

Daniel stepped closer to her back, his warm presence reassuring her, as if she could lean back against him and never fall. “Are you okay?”

“Not yet,” she whispered, and she knew they all watched her, waiting for her to react to the violation of her home.

Levon Rivers had built the small Cape Cod-style cottage for his mother’s sister, carving the plot from one corner of his expansive fields. When his aunt died, he’d rented it to a niece, who eventually decided to return to college. At that point, Levon had put the charming cottage on the market.

April, desperate to get out of Nashville and away from her hostile in-laws and bitter ex-husband, fell in love with it instantly and made an offer the first time she saw it. In the year since then, she’d polished the hardwood floors and painted everything in her beloved earth tones. She’d even picked out a new door made from heavy oak and featuring three long panes of beveled glass. All of her work had made it truly hers, secluded and cozy and loved.

Now someone had smashed open the door, shattering the glass and splintering the door frame.

Ray Taylor touched her arm. “I just want you to look around inside the door. Gage has already been in, so he’s the only one I want moving around in the house. We will dust for prints later, so try not to touch anything. We need to know if you can tell if anything is missing.”

April nodded, took a deep breath and climbed the steps. Stepping over the threshold, she braced herself for what she would see.

As she moved past the splintered front door, however, April saw that this was not just a burglary—this was a personal, vicious attack. As she scanned the room, her knees weakened, and she swayed, suddenly grateful for the firm strength of Daniel, who still stood close behind her.

His hand closed on her arm, steadying her. “You okay?” he asked again.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“You don’t have to do this now.”

She wrapped her fingers around his hand. “Yes, I do.” The house held an echoing stillness that made her own home feel unfamiliar, as if she’d walked into the abode of a stranger. Forgetting Ray’s instructions, she moved forward, her toes crunching down on a shattered cup.

She stopped, looking down. It wasn’t the only dish on the floor. Her kitchen cabinet doors splayed wide, their shelves cleared of all contents. Broken china littered every open space on the floor. Cans of vegetables and soup rolled free, and flour, cereal and sugar dusted all surfaces while a faint scent of cornmeal and yeast hung in the air. Biting her lower lip, she scanned the room.

Destruction…yet nothing seemed to be missing. The television still stood in place, although its smashed screen looked like a dark star in a black hole. Not even everything had suffered. The CD player on one end table remained untouched, as did her collection of books and some of the CDs stacked neatly on one shelf of a bookcase. Other CDs were tossed about the room like confetti, their cases splintered. The randomness was nearly as disturbing as the violence. Her attacker had stood in her home and deliberately chosen which parts of her life to wreck, and which to keep intact.

“He didn’t steal anything.” April’s voice sounded flat and hollow, even to her.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked behind them.

Before she could answer, Daniel whispered in her ear. “Is there anything really odd? Not the trashing. Something odd in the middle of it.”

April felt a laugh borne of hysteria bubbling in the back of her throat, and she almost choked. Anything odd? Had he lost his mind? Her house had been destroyed! Her food, her fine china! Her life! Her gaze darted about the room as her mind clicked through what would have to be replaced. The television, the carpet, the curtains that hung half off their rods…

The curtains.

She froze, her eyes narrowing. The curtains on the back window were closed.

April blinked, her anxiety calming as she stared at the bright yellow and green fabric that added light and color to her open living room. Every morning, she opened both sets, on the front and back windows, to allow in as much light as possible. Now the ones on the rear window were closed.

April turned slightly toward the front window. Those curtains were still open.

She looked at Officer Gage. “Did you close the drapes?” She pointed at the torn fabric.

Confused, the young man looked from her to Ray.

The sheriff nodded. “Did you?”

Gage shook his head, and Ray gestured toward the window. “Open them.”

Picking his way through the shards of April’s life, Gage fumbled through the ripped cloth for the cord, then slowly drew back the drapes.

At the sight of the windows, Daniel gasped out a low, choked prayer. “Dear God, save us.”

April’s eyes widened as her breath left her. She stumbled back against Daniel, who braced her, his hands closing on her shoulders.

The block letters trailed across the glass in smeared reddish-bronze lipstick, and the splintered tubes clustered beneath the window, crushed into the carpet.

The message was simple.



YOU TALK

YOU DIE




FIVE


Daniel recovered first. “He’s wrong. I’m not about to let him hurt you. We can protect you.” His voice, low and rumbling, held a worried edge to it, revealing the tight ball of grief that he worked to suppress. “But you have to let us help you. You may not remember him, but he definitely thinks you know who he is.”

“But I don’t!” April pushed away from Daniel and turned away from the wreckage. “I didn’t see—He had this cap on—” She stopped, waving her hands vigorously in front of her, as if she could flick away the horrifying memory of Levon’s murder. She clenched her jaw and growled through gritted teeth. “I did not see him!” Tears flooded her eyes and streamed from the outside corners as she turned to Ray. “I did not see him!”

The sheriff nodded solemnly. “I understand. We still need to get your statement, though, to get down everything you did see. You never know what might help.”

April’s shoulders dropped in acquiescence, then her eyes suddenly widened and she released a noise that sounded like a wounded animal. She swung around and fled toward a door at the far side of the kitchen. Daniel followed, despite Ray’s bellowed protests at both of them.

April flung open the door, barely clearing it in her rush to get into the other room. Racing after her, Daniel almost collided with April as she abruptly stopped in the doorway, her gaze darting frenetically around as she examined every item in the room.

Daniel stared over her right shoulder. “What is all this?”

When Levon had built the house, the room had been a two-car garage. Now one half had been converted into a customized kitchen. Steel counters lined much of the wall space, broken up by a six-burner gas stove, restaurant-style sink and shelves laden with dozens of jars. A large refrigerator hummed against the far wall, and on one counter, empty and sparkling jars drained on thick cloths. Near the back of the room, bushel baskets full of an assortment of berries, fruits, corn and beans stood waiting, lacing the air with the sweet scent of fresh produce.

“Your business, right?”

April nodded, slowly approaching one set of shelves. “Levon helped me convert this space. Presley’s Home Farm Organics.” The shelf in front of her almost overflowed with finished product, the tightly sealed lids, crystal-cut jars and signature red and green labels representing hundreds of hours of work. She picked up one jar and examined the lid’s seal. “Levon helped me create this recipe for black bean and corn salsa.”

Daniel watched her, understanding the sorrow she must feel at each new reminder that her friend was gone. His throat tightened. “He learned to cook stuff like that when my mom got sick.”

April’s sad smile made him ache with a grief that threatened to roll over him again. “He did the taste testing and encouraging.” She set the jar back on the shelf. “It’s one of my bestsellers.”

“Where do you sell it?”

April ran her finger along the shelf. “The Caralinda General Store carries it, and some of the places in White Hills. A few stores in Nashville. Mostly online. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, but first my dad and then my ex always said I didn’t have the head for it. No business sense. Said I’d fail.” She paused, her voice softening. “Levon kept telling me I could do it. He believed in me.”

She turned to Daniel, then the sheriff, who stood on the step down into the room. “The killer must have thought this was still the garage. Everything seems okay.”

Both men looked around the room. All of the canning equipment and supplies did appear untouched. Even the polished concrete floor remained spotless.

Ray cleared his throat. “So although he knows who you are, where you live, he doesn’t know about your business.”

“Will that help?” April asked eagerly.

“Maybe. If we can be sure that that’s the reason. It’s possible he just ran out of time.” Daniel pushed his shoulders back, fighting the stress-induced tension. This was the frustrating part of investigating—turning clues into theories…and then watching them fall apart.

April looked from one man to the other. “He chased us, Aunt Suke and me, right into the basement. He only left when we heard the sirens. She’ll be in as much danger, won’t she?”

“What was Aunt Suke—” Ray didn’t quite get the words out.

“She saved me.” April crossed to stand by Daniel’s side, looking up at Ray. “She heard the shot, saw me running, then hiding. She came and got me. Her and that white dog.”

“Polly,” Daniel whispered.

“Polly.”

Ray looked from her to Daniel a moment then back at April, as if contemplating his next move. “Are you sure nothing is missing here?”

At April’s nod, Ray focused on his young deputy. “Go out that way.” He pointed at a door at the back of the canning kitchen. “I don’t want you going back through the house. I’m going to need Gage here. Pick up Aunt Suke and take them both back to the station and get their statements. Don’t embellish, you hear me, Rivers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then find them a place to stay, and you go home. Call whoever you need to. Understand?”

“No, sir.”

Ray froze. “What did you say?”

Daniel straightened, not thrilled about standing up to his boss, even though he had to. “The killer knows who she is, Sheriff. There’s no way she should be left alone. Even if Aunt Suke is with her.”

Ray pursed his lips, face hard. Finally he relented. “Well, what do you have in mind?”

Daniel ignored the questioning look on April’s face. “Someone needs to stay with her, make sure no one gets close. The minute we look away, he’ll pull out that shotgun again. Wherever we put her, she needs to have one of us near.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re volunteering. I told you that you need to stay away from this—”

“We’re shorthanded right now, with two of the guys on vacation. You just said it. You need Gage here. You need everyone possible on this case. Guarding is not investigating.”

Ray continued to watch him a moment longer, and Daniel knew all too well the insight Ray could hide behind narrowed eyes and tight lips. He’d learned long ago not to underestimate his ex-military officer of a boss, and he felt sure Ray knew exactly what Daniel hoped for.

That April would remember. That more time spent with her, talking through the trauma and helping her relax again would jog what she’d blocked from her conscious mind.

Daniel could almost see Ray’s mind clicking through the list of his officers, evaluating skills and duties, to see if anyone could take Daniel’s place. And he saw in the sheriff’s eyes the moment Ray came to the conclusion that there was no one else.

Ray growled beneath his breath, then pointed at the door. “Get out, Deputy. Have someone take you back to your car and get her to the station. Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Daniel grabbed April’s arm and pulled her toward the door.

Outside, she shook off his arm and turned to him, eyes narrow with anger. “What was that all about? I am not going into some type of hibernation, Daniel. I won’t.”

Daniel reached for her arm again, even as he waved for the attention of another officer. “Let’s go before he changes his mind. I’ll explain in the car.”

They headed for the car, and Daniel opened the back door for her. He slid in next to her as the other officer got behind the wheel. “Take us back to Aunt Suke’s.” Their driver nodded, and Daniel turned to face April, who spoke before he had a chance.

“I’m not hiding out somewhere, Daniel. Look, I spent a great deal of my marriage feeling terrified and isolated. He wanted to control every minute of my day. I’m not doing that again. I promised myself I’d no longer live in fear.” She took a deep breath. “I’m serious, Daniel. I will not hide from this man. I’m never living like that again. Not even for a day.”

He watched her closely, understanding her defiance, but also seeing the quiver in her fingertips and the uncertainty in her eyes. He reached for one of her hands, which was frigid, despite the heat of the day. He wrapped it in the warmth of both of his. “I know you want everything to just go back to the way it was. But that’s not going to happen.”

When she started to protest, he tightened his grip and kept talking. “For now, just listen to me. No, don’t just listen. April, I need you to hear me.” Daniel took a deep breath, pressing back the grief that hovered over his heart. “You saw my father get shot. Whether or not you recognized the shooter, he obviously saw you. I don’t think he’ll just trust that the threat he left on your window will keep you quiet.”

“But I didn’t see—”

“He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know what you’ll tell us. He doesn’t know if you’ll be terrified to speak or angry enough to tell us everything.”

Her eyes widened as the truth really began to set in. “You really do think he’ll come after me. Try to kill me.”

Daniel nodded. “I know he will. He’s killed already, and he won’t hesitate to do it again. He confronted my father at the very time and place when no one should have been around, planning very carefully. He didn’t expect to be seen. Your decision to bring Levon lemonade ruined his plans.”

April closed her eyes a moment and pressed her other hand on top of his. Her voice was so low and hoarse that he could barely hear her over the noise of the cruiser. “Why would anyone kill your father? I just don’t understand. He was the kindest man on the planet!”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. But like with you and your house, this is someone who knew my father, knew when Dad would be in the field.”

“So he’s definitely local.”

Daniel didn’t like saying it, but he had to. “Yes. This is someone close, someone we may even see in church on Sunday.”

April paled even more. “And you think he’ll kill me the first time he finds me alone.”

He nodded. “I think that’s a real possibility. And since it’s someone you may have seen around Caralinda, you won’t even know who to be wary of. You can’t trust anyone.”

Her lips became a fine line. “Even you.”

It was a challenge, but he met her stare squarely. “Even me.”

She relented, her body sagging a bit. “Except that you would have a scream out with Levon, not a shooting.”

It broke the tension of the moment, and Daniel almost laughed with relief. April had only been in Caralinda a year, but she’d been witness to more than a few of his fights with his dad. “You did get to see some of that, didn’t you?”

Both of them had been temperamental and stubborn, both opinionated and perfectly capable of expressing those opinions at full volume. They’d fought about Daniel’s career, his relationships, the farm, politics, religion, even money. Eventually, they’d realized that giving each other space was the easiest way to keep the peace. Daniel had been on his own since he was eighteen, but he’d always come back for Sundays and all holidays.

April nodded. “Good men with good opinions are going to fight sometimes.” She shrugged one shoulder. “My dad and I never did. Or at least I never fought back.” She let out a long, slow breath that seemed to deflate her. “Levon was the better father. Now he’s gone, too.”

Daniel wanted to ask what had happened between her and her father, but there wasn’t time as the car pulled up in Aunt Suke’s short driveway. “We’re here.” He held her elbow as she slid out of the backseat. “Watch your head.”

Aunt Suke waited for them on the front porch, Polly pressed against her hip. She and the dog reached them quickly as the other car backed out and headed toward April’s house again.

“I want to talk to you two. Now.”

Daniel held up his hand. “I need to get you and April to the station to get your—”

“Now.” Aunt Suke’s eyes, bright and wide with determination, left no room for argument.

Daniel bit back his protest, his impulse to act like a cop and take over the situation. Not even noon yet, but the exhaustion of grief and stress had settled a weariness in his muscles. “What about?”

Aunt Suke reached for April’s hands. “I’m sorry about your home. I hope he didn’t do too much damage.”

Daniel scowled. “How did you—” He stopped. It didn’t matter how. Aunt Suke always knew.

Aunt Suke continued to focus on April. “Clearly you can’t go back there. You know you can’t stay alone. Not till they catch him.”

“I know, but—”

“We’re already looking into places you both might—”

“We’ll stay here.”

Silence. April looked at Daniel, who shook his head, even though he knew arguing with Aunt Suke had always been a losing battle. “No, Aunt Suke. You could be in danger, as well. We can’t guarantee your safety in a house this big, this open.” He gestured around at the rolling fields that surrounded the house.

As if she understood, Polly tilted her head to look at Daniel, then Aunt Suke, whose spine stiffened. “I’ve not been afraid of any man since I was a nurse in Korea in 1951. If enemy artillery didn’t frighten me, a coward with a shotgun is not even in the running.”

“The sheriff won’t—”

“Ray Taylor will listen to reason even if you won’t. This big old house is safer than any chintzy motel out on the interstate, even with you sitting in front of the door. Lots of hiding places, and that’s providing he gets in and Polly doesn’t get him. You know what she can do.”

Daniel ignored April’s questioning look at Polly. Only Aunt Suke would bring a retired K-9 unit dog into her home. But retired or not, no one messed with Polly.

Or Aunt Suke, for that matter.

Hands on hips, Aunt Suke braced for battle, her white hair swirling in a sudden breeze. “I have Polly. I have a house with an alarm system and a lot of hiding places. I’m sure April has a cell phone. And that’s before you put a deputy in my driveway.”

“No gun?”

Aunt Suke’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Of course I have a gun, but I don’t go around shooting at people, including your suspect.”

“No shooting would be preferable, yes. What kind?”

“A shotgun I inherited from my father. It’s clean, it fires fine, it’s unloaded and it’s in my bedroom closet. I use it to scare blackbirds and juvenile delinquents trying to smoke pot in my cornfield.”

Daniel’s eyebrows arched. Surely she wasn’t ser—

Aunt Suke crossed her arms. “Daniel. I said I do not shoot at anyone. You’re not thinking straight or you’d have caught that.”




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