Rita Herron - Cold Case at Camden Crossing

He started to leave, but Judy Pullman stood and touched his hand, then leaned toward him, speaking quietly. “Sheriff, does she...remember anything about that day?”

Chaz squeezed her hand, understanding the questions still plaguing her. For God’s sake, they dogged him, too. Like who had caused that freak accident.

Or had it been an accident?

They needed closure, but unfortunately their hopes lay in Tawny-Lynn’s hands. A lot of pressure for her.

“No, ma’am. I know we all want answers, and if she does remember something, trust me, I’ll let everyone know.”

“Is she...here to stay?”

He shook his head, thinking about how lost she looked facing that crumbling farmhouse. There had to be ghosts inside waiting for her.

“She said she’s just going to clean up the ranch and put it on the market.”

Mrs. Pullman stared at him for a long minute, then gave him a pained smile. “I guess I can’t blame her for running.”

Neither could he.

But if others still harbored as much animosity as the mayor and his father, he’d have to keep an eye out for her.

* * *

TAWNY-LYNN TUCKED the laundry list of supplies she needed into her purse and drove toward town. The road was lonely and deserted, the countryside filled with small houses interspersed between flat farmland.

A mile from town she passed the trailer park where Patti Mercer, the pitcher on her old team, used to live. Patti had dodged a bullet because of a stomach bug that day. Unlike her sister, Joy, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen and still lived in the trailer where she’d grown up, Patti had earned a softball scholarship and had left Camden Crossing. Tawny-Lynn wondered what she was doing now.

The road curved to the right, and she wove around a deserted tractor. The town square hadn’t changed except they’d refurbished the playground in the park, and the storefronts had been redesigned to resemble an old Western town. The tack shop had expanded, a fabric store had been added near the florist, the library now adjoined city hall and the sheriff’s office had been painted and bore a new sign.

She passed the sheriff’s office and the diner, then saw the general store and decided they’d probably have everything she needed. If not, Hank’s Hardware would. But she wasn’t ready to tackle repairs. She had to start by scraping off the layers of dirt and grime.

She pulled into a parking spot, noting that the diner was crowded. A couple who looked familiar, but one she couldn’t quite place, exited the general store as she entered.

She grabbed a cart, then strolled the aisles, filling it with industrial-size cleaner, Pine-Sol, scrub brushes, dish soap, laundry detergent, dusting spray and polish, glass cleaner, then threw in a new broom and mop along with buckets, sponges and a duster with an extended handle so she could reach the corners.

Thankfully she’d checked her father’s supply shed and had been surprised to find buckets and boxes full of tools of every kind. Apparently tools were another aspect of his hoarding. He could have opened his own hardware business from the shed out back.

A couple with a toddler walked by, the baby babbling as he rode on his father’s back. She frowned, her heart tugging a little. She hadn’t thought about having her own family, hadn’t been able to let any man in her life.

But this guy looked familiar. Maybe he’d been in her class?

She continued past them with her head averted. She didn’t intend to be here long enough to renew friendships or start new ones.

The locals probably wouldn’t welcome her anyway.

She bent to choose some oven cleaner, then added it to the cart, but as she stood, she bumped into a body. She twisted to apologize then looked up to see an older woman with thinning gray hair staring at her.

She frowned, trying to place her.

“Are you Tawny-Lynn Boulder?” the woman asked.

Tawny-Lynn swallowed. “Yes.”

“You probably don’t know me but my name is Evelyn Jergins. My husband drove the bus for the softball team. He died that day in the crash.”

Tawny-Lynn’s heart clenched. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You— They said you might know what made him wreck.”

The urge to run slammed into Tawny-Lynn. “No.... I’m so sorry, but I still don’t remember much about that day.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Trevor was a good man. I miss him every day.”

“I miss my sister, too,” Tawny-Lynn said.

“I heard about your daddy. That’s too bad.”

Tawny-Lynn shrugged, touched by the woman’s sincerity. “I came back to clean up the ranch and sell it.”

“Then you’re not moving back?”

She shook her head. “No, I live in Austin.”

She arched her brows. “Really? Are you married?”

“No.” God, no. She hadn’t been involved with anyone since her freshmen year in college when she’d found her boyfriend cheating on her. He’d blamed her. Said she wouldn’t really let him in. That she was closed off emotionally.

Maybe she was. The nightmares of the past tormented her at night.

She quickly said goodbye, grabbed her cart and headed to the front. A silver-haired woman with tortoiseshell glasses was working the checkout counter and smiled as Tawny-Lynn unloaded the cart.

“Looks like you got a job ahead of you, hon.”

Tawny-Lynn forced a smile, although she dreaded the backbreaking job. “Yes, I do.”

She didn’t offer more information, and thankfully another customer came up behind her and the woman tallied her items quickly. Tawny-Lynn paid with her debit card and headed outside, but as she loaded the items into her trunk, she sensed someone watching her, and anxiety tightened her shoulders.

When she turned, Cassie Truman’s father was standing behind her. Age lines fanned his face, his hair had streaks of gray, but he still carried himself as if he were superior to everyone else.

“Mr. Truman,” she said, remembering the way he’d banned her from his daughter’s funeral.

“I’m the mayor now.”

So he and Chaz’s father must be buddy-buddy, both in control of the town.

She reached to close the trunk of her SUV. “Excuse me, I need to leave.”

“Are you leaving?” he said.

Anger shot through her at his tone. The Camdens and the parents of the girls who’d died blamed her for not remembering details of that day, but she couldn’t help it.

It was like a black hole had swallowed her memory of that day. She wanted the memories back, wanted to know how she’d escaped the bus with a broken leg and where Ruth and Peyton were.

But no amount of pushing or counseling had helped. She’d even tried hypnosis, but that had failed as well.

“As soon as I put the ranch up for sale,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her tone.

“You still aren’t going to tell us what happened back then?”

Pain, sharp and raw, splintered her. “Believe me, Mayor Truman, if I ever remember, the town will know.”

Battling tears, she brushed past him, jumped in the SUV and backed away.

Her hands were shaking, her heart racing. Damn him. Damn her.

She wanted to remember and put the story to rest.

She slapped the steering wheel and brushed away tears. She had lost her sister that day, too.

Night had set in, the Friday-night diner crowd filing outside to their cars and heading home. She wondered if they still played bingo at the church and had monthly dances at the rec.

Not that she would be attending any. She meant what she’d said. She’d clean up White Forks and get the hell out before the town destroyed her again.

Her SUV hit a pothole, and she braked, then slowed as she drove the country road. Seconds later, lights appeared behind her, and she checked her rearview mirror, anxious as the car sped up and rode her bumper.