Sharon Sala - Wild Hearts

Trey frowned. He already had the same fears but wasn’t going to let on.

“Yes.”

She shuddered. “I can’t imagine staying in that house by myself after what happened.”

“It’s still her home, Trina, and don’t go making it into something bad.”

“But her dad killed himself there.”

“Technically, he died in the barn, but I happen to know that both her paternal grandparents died in that house in their time. In the old days, generations of people lived on in the family home long after the elders were gone. Death doesn’t taint a place. People do.”

Trina slumped. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Sorry. I’m just overwhelmed by Mom’s involvement, however minimal.” She took a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, and then wadded it up in her hands with the bad news as she shifted to a conversation she could handle. “So, I’m on the way home. You’re still coming to supper tomorrow evening, right? It’s our family tradition, coming home on your birthday to all of your favorite things to eat.”

“Yes, I know and I’m coming,” Trey said. “And whatever cake isn’t eaten tomorrow night is going home with me.”

“Hey! Italian cream cake is my favorite, too.”

“So tell Mom to make one on your birthday, too. Stop whining.”

Trina grinned. “Yeah, whatever. Give Dallas my love and condolences when you see her.”

“What makes you think I’ll see her?” he asked.

Trina rolled her eyes. “Puh...leese. Don’t even go there with me, okay?”

Trey changed the subject.

“Are you still dating that Lee guy?”

“Lee Daniels is his name and you know it, and yes, I’m still seeing him, so leave him alone.”

She blew him a kiss and flounced out.

Trey shook his head and then glanced at his watch. He wanted to call Dallas and check on her whereabouts, but she would probably view that as stepping over a line. The relationship they’d once had was over, and she was already angry at him for what he’d told her. He’d heard it in her voice and understood. Until the coroner said the words, he wasn’t fully buying Dick’s suicide, either.

Three

Dallas always knew the trip home was almost over when she could see the burned-out shell of Herman Wagner’s cabin sitting on the promontory of the cliff outside Mystic. After that, it was a matter of navigating the big S curve and then seeing a small green sign: Mystic, WV—Population 6,788.

Usually it made her heart skip a beat, knowing she was almost home. Today she got physically sick to her stomach. There was a moment when she thought she was going to have to pull over, but a couple of deep breaths helped the nausea pass. This was an ugly, horrifying trip for many reasons, not the least of which were funeral arrangements. But she knew enough about unattended deaths to realize they might not release her father’s body as quickly as she would hope, and there was no way to know when to plan the service until they were through.

It was just after 5:00 p.m., and she began thinking of all the chores that would need to be done out on the farm: checking on the cows, putting up the chickens. But she wasn’t going any farther through town until she found out where they were with the case. She didn’t believe for a minute that her father had killed himself, and it frightened her to think someone would want him dead. Whether she liked it or not, she needed to talk to Trey, so when she got to the first stoplight she took a right and drove straight to the police station.

* * *

Trey was on the phone when he heard her voice up at the front desk.

“Listen, I need to call you back,” he said, and hurried out of the office, only to meet her coming down the hall. “Hey, did you have any trouble on the drive down?”

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, and led her back into his office and then shut the door. “Can I get you anything? Something cold to drink? I have Dr Pepper.”

It was the sympathy on his face, and the fact that he remembered what she liked to drink, that did her in. She had so many questions, but all she could think to do was cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he said, and took her in his arms.

Everything she’d been holding back buckled beneath the weight of her grief. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I cannot believe this is happening,” she said, the tears coming faster.

There was nothing to say, nothing to do that would make this better. All Trey could do was be there for her in any way she needed, and right now she just needed to know she wasn’t in this alone.

Dallas cried until her heart was racing and her head felt like it was going to explode. When Trey reached around behind her and grabbed a handful of tissues from his desk, she took them.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, and began wiping away mascara and blowing her nose.

“What can I do? How can I help?” Trey asked.

She looked up. “What can you tell me?”

“Come sit,” he said, and led her to a sofa against the wall. As soon as she settled, he took a notepad from his desk and began writing, then tore off the sheet and handed it to her. “Sheriff Osmond is handling the case. This is his contact info.”

“Thanks,” she said, and dropped it in her pocket. “I don’t suppose you know when they’re doing the autopsy?”

“No, I’m sorry. That’s all being handled at the county level.”

“I guessed as much, and just so you know, I still do not believe he committed suicide.”

“I find it hard to believe myself. When was the last time you talked to him?” Trey asked.

“Three days ago. We talk at least two times a week, sometimes more. We stayed close, Trey. He never sounded upset. He never seemed down or depressed. I know my father, damn it!”

He reached for her hand, but she yanked it back.

“I want to see his body.”

Suddenly Trey was all business.

“No. No, you don’t. You do not want that to be your last memory of him. Do you hear me?”

She shuddered, vulnerable all over again.

“Was it that bad?”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, my God, this feels like a horrible nightmare. I...I should be going. I need to get the chores done before it gets dark. Sundown comes early in the mountains this time of year. Not that I need to tell you that.”

“I can do them for you,” he offered.

“No, but thank you. I do them all the time when I’m home. I know where everything is.”

He didn’t push the issue. And then it hit him.

“Are you going to be all right at the house by yourself?”

Her eyes narrowed sharply.

“Why would you ask that? Do you think I’m in danger? Do you think whoever killed Dad wants to harm me, too?”

“I didn’t ask because I think there’s a killer on the loose. I asked because you suffered a horrific shock today and you’re going to be on your own there.”

“I’m not afraid of ghosts, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Damn it, Dallas. I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. I’m offering help in any way you need, whether it’s doing chores or sleeping on your couch so you’ll feel easy in the night.”

“I know I’m being defensive, but I feel like I’m in this corner all by myself. Everyone thinks Dad committed suicide but me. Did he have a run-in with someone recently? Did anything happen out at the farm, like a theft? Was he being threatened?”

“I haven’t heard about anything like that, and he didn’t report trouble of any kind.”

“I’ll get answers,” she said, and then slipped the strap of her purse across her shoulder. “If you hear anything, I would appreciate a call.”