Erica Spindler - In Silence

He searched her expression. "She's just a crank, Avery. You know that, right?" When she hesitated, he shook his head. "We're talking about the doc here. Nobody had a higher moral character than your dad. I believe that. Black and white, no moral gray area." "I know. But-" She clasped her hands in front of her. "I keep coming back to what she said, that he got what he deserved. Like maybe, he didn't kill himself. Like maybe somebody helped him out."

For a long moment, he said nothing. "You mean, somebody killed him?"

She met his gaze evenly. "Yes."

"Who would hurt your dad?" he asked.

"Someone who thought him a liar and murderer."

He caught her hands, rubbed them between his. She hadn't realized until that moment how cold they had been. "The CSPD did a thorough job. Dr. Harris is a crackerjack coroner who doesn't let anything slip by him. I reviewed everything as well, Avery." He gentled his tone. "I didn't want to believe it either."

Avery couldn't bring herself to look at him. He squeezed her fingers. "This caller is a mentally disturbed person. Or someone with an ax to grind, maybe with Buddy. Maybe someone trying to cause trouble through you. Why don't you take a look at Dad's report. It'll put your mind at rest."

"You don't think Buddy would mind?"

"No way." He smiled. "When it comes to you, Avery, Dad'll do anything."

She changed the subject. "How'd it go at the pond?"

He slid his hands into his front pockets. "Figured you might want an update."

"Car belonged to that guy who went missing, didn't it? The one you and Buddy were talking about the other day? The one reported missing by his girlfriend."

"Yup, sure did. His name was Luke McDougal."

"Was? He's dead?"

"Don't know. The vehicle's been hauled out. It's empty. Cell phone's in the car. Evidence team has it." He glanced at his watch. "The property's being searched, the pond dredged."

Avery shivered and rubbed her arms. "When will that be done?"

"The rain's slowed us down. Not until tomorrow, I suspect." He met her eyes, expression grim. "I need to ask you something, Avery. What were you and Hunter doing at Tiller's Pond?"

"I went to see him. He was going for a run. I joined him." She lifted a shoulder. "Ended up there."

He looked away, dragging a hand through his hair, swearing softly.

"What is it, Matt?"

He returned his gaze to hers. "I'm wondering why you went to see him in the first place."

"He and I were friends, I guess I still think of him that way. Does it matter?"

She saw by his expression that it did matter to him. It mattered a lot. She let out a pent-up breath. "I wanted to find out more about the St. Claire murder. Since he had been at the scene, I figured he could tell me what I needed to know."

"You could have come to me. I would have answered your questions."

"Matt," she chided, "I'm a journalist. I'm experienced enough to know what the police will, or will not, share."

He tipped his face toward the ceiling, the picture of frustration. "Help me out here, Avery. I feel like a jerk."

She smiled. "You're jealous?"

"Don't laugh." He glowered good-naturedly at her. "Hell, yes, I'm jealous. I know the kind of things that went on at Tiller's Pond."

Flattered, she closed the distance between them, stopping inches from him. She tilted her face to his, shamelessly flirting. "Yeah, but all those things happened with you."

Something flickered in his eyes, some strong emotion. One that stirred her blood. "Dammit, your shirt was wet."

"I was hot. The water was cool."

He cupped her cheeks in his palms, grip just short of painful. "Be careful, okay? Hunter's not…he's not the boy you knew."

It's not true what they say about him. Hunter's a good man.

"I'm a big girl, not a teenager, Matt." He didn't smile. Hers wavered. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

He bent, pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, hard kiss. "I'll pick you up for Spring Fest tomorrow at three."

Without another word, he left. She watched as he crossed to his cruiser, climbed in and backed down the driveway. She brought a hand to her mouth, to the imprint of his lips against hers. Their date, she realized. Spring Fest, she had forgotten all about it.

A date with Matt Stevens. After all these years. She eased the door shut, locked it, but didn't move from the foyer. What was she getting herself into? What did he want from her?

More than friendship, more than a stroll down memory lane. That was obvious. But what of her feelings? What did she want?

She enjoyed his company, reliving the past. When with him she became the girl she had been back then.

She thought of Hunter, his image slipping into her head, filling it. There was something between her and Hunter as well, she realized. Something strong. Something that caused her to think of him when she shouldn't.

But what? Concerned friendship? Attraction? Sexual awareness?

Or suspicion?

What had Matt meant when he'd said she didn't know Hunter as well as she thought? When he had warned her to be careful?

Moody and aggravating as Hunter could be, she hadn't felt threatened around him. Even when they had clashed. The only thing that had seemed in any imminent danger had been her reputation.

So why his real, nearly palpable concern?

Spring Fest was much as Avery remembered it. The atmosphere of celebration, the sound of children laughing mingling with the smells of good Louisiana food and the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck.

She and Matt did it all: rode the Ferris wheel and Tilt-A-Whirl; sampled foods from all the vendors, so much that she longed to un-snap the top button of her shorts; wandered through the arts and crafts booths; and from the blanket they'd spread under the canopy of the square's biggest oak tree, listened to the various bands scheduled throughout the day.

The day should have been perfect, Avery told herself. She should be relaxed, totally content. Hard to be either, however, when news of Luke McDougal's car being found in Tiller's Pond and the St. Claire murder was on everyone's lips. Hard to feel carefree when she couldn't shake her suspicions about her father's death. When she couldn't discount what Gwen Lancaster had told her about The Seven and the disproportionate number of suicides in Cypress Springs. Or that she believed her dad had been killed because he had known too much about The Seven.

Avery found herself trying to read people's expressions, trying to see beyond what they were saying to what they weren't. Every glance from one person to another became a signal of some sort. She found herself listening to the conversations around her, hoping to recognize the voice of her anonymous caller.

She hated feeling this way, suspicious and on edge. Distrustful to the point of paranoia.

"Thirsty?"

Avery turned and found Mart's gaze on her. They sat on the blanket; the sun had set and the final band of the day had just finished their first song. "What did you have in mind?"

"Beer?"

"Why not?"

He frowned slightly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. A little tired."

He opened his mouth as if to say something further, then seemed to change his mind and stood. "Don't disappear on me."

"I won't." As he walked away, her smile faded. Luke McDou-gal had disappeared. According to Gwen Lancaster, so had a number of Cypress Springs citizens, picking up and moving in the night. No word to anyone.

"Where'd that no-good kid of mine go?"

Avery looked up at Buddy and smiled. Dressed in his uniform, complete with service weapon and nightstick, there was no doubt he was on duty. "Beer run."

"A cold one sure would hit the spot right now."

She made a sound of sympathy. "No rest for the wicked, I see."