Erica Spindler - In Silence

"What's the deal?" Matt asked.

Sam stepped forward. "A car," he said. "In my pond. Damned if I know where it came from."

Matt shifted his gaze briefly to her, then turned to Hunter. "You seem to be in the thick of everything these days."

"What can I say? Trouble finds me."

"How about you give me the sequence of events."

Hunter did. Matt shifted his gaze to hers. "You want to add anything to that?"

Dark clouds drifted over the sun; she shivered and shook her head. "I can't think of anything."

"How you goin' to get it out of there?" Sam asked.

"Call Bubba, get one of his wreckers over here, haul it out," Matt answered.

"You're certain it was a Mercedes?" Buddy asked. "One hundred percent. Silver. A CLK 350." The two lawmen exchanged glances. "But you say it was empty?"

"It appeared so," Hunter confirmed. "But you're not certain?"

"No."

"If we need anything else, we'll be in touch." Matt looked at her. Something in his gaze had her folding her arms across her chest. "Storm's moving in," he said softly. "I suggest you take cover."

At the same moment the storm hit, Avery remembered what had eluded her before: the guy whose Mercedes had supposedly broken down outside of Cypress Springs, the one whose girlfriend had claimed he'd gone missing. She'd cried foul play, but without any evidence of a homicide, Buddy and Matt could only assume the story a fabrication or that the guy had wanted to disappear.

They had their evidence now. Though a submerged vehicle did not a murder make.

That's why Matt had asked twice about the vehicle being empty. He was looking for a body to go with the car.

"Here you are," Sam said, interrupting her thoughts. His pickup rattled as it crept up her driveway, then creaked to a stop.

She turned to him. "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."

He peered out at the rain. A boom of thunder shook the truck. "I don't mind waitin' a minute, till it eases up out there."

"I appreciate that, Sam. But I'm already wet. A little more water's not going to hurt me." She grabbed the door handle. "Thanks again for the-"

"It's not true," he said, cutting her off. "What they all say about him."

She stopped, looked back at him. "Pardon?"

"Hunter's a good man. Rock solid. Your father liked him."

Her mouth dropped. He motioned to the door. "Go on now. Before it gets any worse."

She did as she was told, hopping out into the downpour. Instantly soaked, she hurried to the front porch. There, she watched the old truck rumble off.

What who said about Hunter? His family? Others in the community?

Your father liked him.

She sank onto the porch swing and stared out at the rain. Her lips lifted with a curious kind of pleasure. The old farmer's comment shouldn't matter to her, but it did. It warmed her. She had always considered her father an excellent judge of character. Had turned to him for advice about people often, during both her adolescence and adulthood.

She liked Hunter, too, despite their recent clashes. She always had. As a young person, she had admired his intelligence and wit. His fine, dry sense of humor. She thought back, recalling the times he had helped her with math, the subject that had given her never-ending fits. She recalled how he'd had the ability to make her smile, even when she had not been in the mood to. She remembered the time, after a particularly upsetting disagreement with her mother, when he had held her and talked her through it. Quietly supporting her while getting her to see her mother's point of view as well.

Where had Matt been that day? she wondered. Busy? Or had she sought Hunter out because she'd known that he would be the one able to calm her?

And now, as an adult, she sensed a deep, abiding honesty in him-about himself and his shortcomings and about others. That made him difficult for some to take, she supposed. It made him confrontational.

Cypress Springs didn't embrace diversity. Round peg, round hole. PLUs-People Like Us. That made them feel safe. Secure.

She had always been the square peg. She hadn't realized it until now, but Hunter had been, too.

Lightning flashed, thunder shook the sky and the rain came down in blinding sheets. Avery turned her thoughts to Matt and Buddy at Tiller's Pond, arranging to have the vehicle hauled out. Standing in the rain, drenched and chilled. And she wondered if Hunter had made it home before the rain had come. He had eschewed Sam's offer of a ride in favor of completing his run.

She recalled Matt's comment to Hunter about being in the thick of everything of late. He'd been making reference to Hunter's having found Elaine St. Claire, now this car. His tone had been adversarial. Confrontational. To Hunter's credit, he hadn't taken the bait.

Matt had hardly looked at her, she realized. Neither had Buddy. Matt hadn't directed but one of the questions her way. His only comment to her had been about the approaching storm.

She glanced down at herself. The wet, white cotton was nearly transparent, her lilac-colored bra clearly visible. Her cheeks warmed. Great, Chauvin. Very classy.

She stood, took one last look at the rain and headed inside to change. The phone was ringing; she grabbed it.

She knew a split second before the woman spoke that it was her-the one who had called before. The heavy moment of silence when she picked up the phone tipped her off. She didn't give the woman a chance to speak. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Damn you to hell," the woman said, laughing thickly, the sound mean. "Your father's already there."

"My father was a good man. He-"

"Was a liar and murderer. He got what he deserved."

"How dare you," Avery snapped, so angry she shook. "My father was a saint. He-"

The woman began to laugh, a witch's cackle. Pure evil.

With a cry, Avery slammed down the receiver. Without missing a beat, she picked it back up and punched in the Stevenses home phone. Cherry answered.

"Cherry," she said, "is Buddy there?"

"Avery? Are you all right?"

"Yes…I-" She sucked in a deep, calming breath, the woman's awful laugh, her words, still ringing in her ears. "Is he there?"

"No. He and Matt are out at Tiller's Pond. Do you need me to beep him?"

"No, it's not urgent. It's just…could you have him ring me when he gets in? It's important."

Cherry called Matt instead, Avery realized several hours later. He stood at her door, expression concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Cherry told you I called."

"She said you were upset."

Avery made a sound of embarrassment. In the hours that had passed, she'd put the incident into perspective. "I overreacted about something." She pushed open the door. "Come in."

He stepped inside. He'd changed out of his uniform and wore a pair of old, soft blue jeans and a white golf shirt. His arms and neck looked tan against the startling white.

He met her eyes. "What's up?"

"Did my father have any enemies?"

The question surprised him, she saw. "Enemies? Not that I know of. Why?"

"I've gotten a couple of unsettling anonymous calls. I got one this afternoon and it…I got upset. I called Buddy."

"The calls, were they from a woman or a man?"

"A woman."

"The nature of the calls?"

"Ugly." She folded her arms across her chest, then dropped them to her sides again. "The first time she called, she said that Dad had…gotten what he deserved. And that I would, too. This time she called him a-" she had to force the words out"-a murderer. And a liar."

"And you have no idea who the woman is?"

"No. None."

"You try *69?"

"Tried it. Dad didn't subscribe."

"You might want to add it or caller ID. Just in case she calls again."

Avery nodded. "I will."