COLD CASE AT CAMDEN CROSSING (8 page)

Dear Peyton,

Please don’t leave me. I love you, and you said you loved me. Call me tonight.

Love & Kisses,

J.J.

Tawny-Lynn struggled to remember J.J.’s last name. The class yearbooks were in the desk drawer, so she grabbed the latest one and searched the names and photos from the senior class.

J.J. McMullen.

Yes, Peyton had been dating him around Christmastime.

Did he still live around town?

She used her smart phone to look up his number and found a James McMullen living right outside town. She punched his number but a woman answered. “Hello?”

Tawny-Lynn wiped dust from her jeans. “I’m looking for James McMullen.”

“He’s at work. Who is this?”

A baby’s cry echoed somewhere in the background.

“Where does he work?”

“At the meat market in town. Now who is this?”

Tawny-Lynn didn’t reply. She hung up, trying to picture the dark-haired boy who Peyton had once dated butchering meat all day, but the image didn’t fit.

But his father had owned the place so he must have gone to work with him.

She finished cleaning out the closet, then stripped the dusty bedcovers and stuffed them in another bag. The notebooks and papers went into the trash. When she finished, she dragged the bags downstairs.

“I’m finished down here,” Jimmy said. “I’ll check the windows upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

She hauled the bags of clothes outside, tossed them into the pickup truck and headed to the church. She dropped the bags with the secretary, thinking the woman looked familiar, but she didn’t take the time to introduce herself.

Ten minutes later, she parked in front of the meat market and went inside. Glass cases held dozens of cuts of beef, pork and chicken while shelves to the side were filled with homegrown vegetables, sauces and spices.

An older man with a receding hairline stood behind the counter, his apron stained.

“Mr. McMullen?” Tawny-Lynn asked.

His reading glasses wobbled as he peered over the counter at her. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

“I’d like to talk to your son, J.J.”

The man frowned, but yelled his son’s name. A second later, J.J. appeared, looking more like his father than she remembered. Maybe it was the receding hairline or the nose that was slightly crooked. The bloody apron didn’t help.

“Tawny-Lynn?” J.J. said, his eyes widening in recognition.

She nodded, then removed the note and gestured for him to take it. He rounded the counter and leaned against the potato bin as he read it.

“You were the last guy I remember dating Peyton before she disappeared.”

His sharp gaze jerked toward her. “You think I had something to do with that?”

“No,” Tawny-Lynn said, although the anger in his tone made her wonder. Had he been questioned seven years ago?

“In the note, you were asking her not to leave you. What happened?”

He cut his eyes toward his father, then shoved the note back in her hands. “She dumped me, that’s what happened. She found someone else.”

“Did she say who it was?”

He shook his head, his anger palpable. “No, but I got the impression it was an older man. She kept saying that it was complicated, but that he was sophisticated and he’d take care of her. That one day they’d get married.” His gaze met hers. “Hell, when she went missing, I thought maybe she ran off with him.”

Tawny-Lynn had heard that rumor. But the sheriff had found no evidence to substantiate the theory.

It was complicated
.

What if her sister had been seeing an older man, maybe a
married
man? If she told J.J. her intentions of marrying, maybe Peyton had pressured him to leave his wife.

Would he have hurt her sister to keep their affair quiet?

Chapter Nine

Chaz should have been relieved that the messages had been written in animal blood instead of human blood, but the fact that someone had threatened an innocent woman in his town infuriated him.

He parked in front of the bank and strode in, then headed straight to his father’s office, but the secretary stopped him on the way.

“He’s not here. He went home to have lunch with your mother.”

That was a surprise. But it probably meant that he’d found some discrepancy in their finances and wanted to interrogate his mother. Gerome Camden was a control freak who had made a fortune because he obsessed over every penny, kept his wife on a tight budget and didn’t allow frivolities.

Except where Ruth had been concerned. He’d doted on her and spoiled her rotten.

Chaz drove to his parents’ house, tossing a quick wave to the gardener trimming the shrubs, then buzzed the doorbell. He didn’t wait for the maid to answer, but had only buzzed to alert them he was on his way.

His boots clicked on the polished-marble floor in the entryway as he crossed to the dining room. His mother looked up with a smile, her china teacup halfway to her mouth. “Chaz, this is a surprise.” She started to rise. “I’ll get Harriet to bring you a plate.”

“No thanks, Mom, I’m not here to eat.” He crossed the room and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Of course you’ll eat with us,” his father said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Chaz rounded on him. He hated to broach this subject in front of his mother, but if anyone could calm his father—and keep him from doing something stupid to Tawny-Lynn—she could. Where Gerome Camden ruled the finances, Beverly Camden ruled the house and had impeccable manners and morals.

“What’s going on?” his mother asked.

Chaz set the file he’d brought with him on the table in front of his father. “When Dad heard Tawny-Lynn Boulder was coming back to town, he paid me a visit and ordered me to run her out of town.”

“What?” His mother fanned her face. “Gerome, you didn’t.”

Guilt streaked his father’s face. “We suffered enough seven years ago because of that girl. I didn’t want her stirring up old hurts.”

“You act as if she caused the bus accident,” his mother chided. “She lost her sister, too, and she spent a week in the hospital.”

“That’s right.” Chaz opened the folder and spread out the photos of the bloody messages. “When she arrived, she found this on the mirror in her room. That night someone ran her off the road into a ditch.” He tapped the photo of the bathroom wall. “Then someone left this.”

“Is that blood?” his mother asked.

Chaz nodded. “Rabbit blood on the mirror. Deer blood on the wall.” He showed them the picture of the bloody deer carcass. “When she got home from the grocery store today, this was waiting for her.”

His mother made a choked sound and grabbed her water, but his father simply glared at him. “I told you no one wanted her here.”

“Did you do this, Dad? Or did you hire someone to?”

His father slammed both hands on the table, jarring the silverware. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing. Just look how you’ve upset your mother.”

Chaz planted his fists on his hips. “I’m not going anywhere until you answer my question.”

“Chaz, you can’t really believe—”

“Mother, please, let him answer.” Chaz turned to his father. “I know that you want Tawny-Lynn gone. Did you set this up to scare her off?”

“Of course not.” His father shoved the pictures back into Chaz’s hands. “Now take these offensive things and get them out of here.”

Chaz gripped the folder. “I hope you’re being honest, Dad. Because if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll be back.”

He mumbled an apology to his mother, then strode toward the door. Behind him, he heard ice clinking in a glass as his father fixed himself a scotch.

* * *

T
AWNY
-L
YNN
TRIED
to remember the names of Peyton’s other friends.

The softball team had been Tawny-Lynn’s core group, and she’d been devastated at the deaths of her fellow teammates.

But Peyton had run in several groups. She’d chaired the prom committee her junior year, had worked on the class yearbook and joined the dance team during football season.

Cindy Miller, the cheerleading captain, had invited Peyton to a sleepover a few weeks before the accident. Desperate, Tawny-Lynn looked up the girls’ name online and found her home address, so she called the number.

“Mrs. Miller speaking.”

“Can I speak to Cindy please?”

“Cindy’s not here. She’s at her house. Who is this?”

Tawny-Lynn hesitated over revealing her name. “I’m calling from the high school reunion committee. We had a worm in the system that trashed our files, and we lost married names and current contact information.”

“Oh, well, Cindy wouldn’t miss a high school reunion for anything. She married Donny Parker from the class two years ahead of her. They live outside Camden Crossing in one of the homes on the lake. Donny developed the property himself.”

So they were probably rolling in money. “That’s wonderful. Can I have her phone number and address? And oh, if she works, I’d like that number, too.”

She scribbled down the numbers as Cindy’s mother read them off.

“Cindy doesn’t work. She stays home with the twins.”

Tawny-Lynn rolled her eyes. She probably had a nanny and spent her days at the tennis courts.

“Thanks. I’ll give her a call.” She disconnected, then wheeled the truck toward the lake. The storm clouds brewing all day looked darker as she passed farmland that would soon be rich with crops. White Forks once had a nice garden but her father had let it dry up along ago.

A few wildflowers had sprouted along the entrance to the lake community, the sign swaying in the wind. She followed the road through the wooded lots, noting that it was new and most of them weren’t developed yet. No doubt expensive homes would be popping up, drawing newcomers to Camden Crossing.

Those lots would need landscaping. Designs rose to her mind, but she squashed the thought. No one in Camden Crossing would likely hire her to design their properties. No use in even going there.

She passed an estate lot where the house sat back in the woods and realized it was the address she was looking for. A personalized sign with the name Parker on it dangled from the mailbox, and as she veered down the driveway tall trees surrounded her, offering privacy and shade from the relentless Texas sun.

The stucco-and-stone house looked like a lodge nestled in the woods, and a BMW was parked in the garage. Beside the house, a boat ramp held a customized pontoon. Tawny-Lynn walked up the cobblestone steps leading to the front door and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, a commotion sounded inside with the sound of children squealing.

When the door opened, a pair of redheaded little boys stared up at her, their faces streaked in something that looked suspiciously like mud but smelled like chocolate pudding. She guessed them to be about four years old.

“Boys, I told you not to open the door!”

Tawny-Lynn swallowed her surprise when Cindy appeared. Maybe it was baby weight, but she’d gained at least thirty pounds.

“Tawny-Lynn?” Cindy said in a croaked whisper.

“Hi, Cindy. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“How could I forget?” The annoyance at the boys morphed into a wary look. Cindy did not look happy to see her.

“Mind if I come in and talk to you for a minute?”

“I can’t imagine what about,” Cindy said warily.

Bored, the boys took off running up the winding staircase behind them, screaming as they went.

“Please,” she said. “I’m only back for a few days to get my father’s ranch ready to sell.”

Cindy bit her lower lip, shifting from one foot to the other as if struggling with her thoughts. Finally she motioned for her to come in.

“You have a gorgeous place,” Tawny-Lynn said. “Your mother said you married Donny Parker, that he built these houses.”

Nerves flashed in Cindy’s eyes. “You talked to my mother?”

“I was just trying to remember some of Peyton’s old friends.”

Cindy’s brown eyes widened. “Why? Have you heard from your sister?”

Tawny-Lynn fought the temptation to fidget as she took a seat on a leather sofa in the giant-size den. The view of the lake was magnificent, reminiscent of a postcard.

Cindy seemed to have everything in life. So why did she seem so anxious?

“No. Have you?”

Cindy raked kids’ toys off the couch. “No, of course not. I just thought...maybe you found out what happened to her and Ruth.”

“That’s why I’m asking questions,” Tawny-Lynn said. “I talked to J.J. McMullen earlier and he said that Peyton broke up with him for an older guy. He hinted that he thought the man might have been married. Did she ever mention anything to you about a man she was seeing?”

The sound of the children tearing down the stairs echoed in the cavernous house, and Cindy jumped up. “No, I don’t remember that. Now I really need to take care of the boys. It’s time for their karate lesson.”

Tawny-Lynn stood, wondering if the boys really had a lesson, or if Cindy just wanted to get rid of her.

Because Cindy ushered her out the door and practically slammed it in her face.

Irritated, Tawny-Lynn drove down the long drive, then parked off to the side in a vacant lot and watched as seconds later, Cindy flew past.

What in the world was she in such a hurry for? The boys’ lesson, or had her questions upset Cindy? Did she know whom Peyton had been seeing?

And if so, why hadn’t she told her or the police?

* * *

C
HAZ
WAS
STILL
stewing with anger as he left his father’s. Maybe he’d jumped the gun in his accusations.

His father was a businessman, a well-respected member of the town, a man who used his money and connections to run the show.

But he’d never been violent or used physical force to get what he wanted. He’d never had to.

And smearing blood on a wall was not his style.

He drove to Barry Dothan’s house, contemplating his approach. He’d found pictures of teenagers in the sheriff’s file from the original investigation.

But Barry’s mother had given him an alibi.

Still, he didn’t like the fact that he’d been watching Tawny-Lynn.

He pulled over at the trailer park, noting the weed-choked yards dividing the mobile homes. Children’s toys were scattered around, a mutt was tied to the porch that had been added on to the second trailer, then he spotted Barry’s bike.

Chaz walked up to the trailer and knocked, remembering the stories he’d heard about the family. When she was younger, Mrs. Dothan had been a stripper and that’s where she’d met Barry’s father. He was now serving time in prison for selling cocaine.

Complications during childbirth had caused Barry’s brain damage.

He knocked again and heard shuffling inside. The door screeched open and Mrs. Dothan stood looking at him with blurry eyes as if she’d been drinking. She wore a ratty housecoat that she tugged around her, then lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew out smoke.

“What do you want, Sheriff?”

“To talk to you and Barry.” Chaz didn’t wait on an invitation. He shouldered his way past her into the tiny den, which was riddled with dirty laundry and reeked of smoke and alcohol.

She dropped into a recliner that had seen better days, focusing on her cigarette.

“Is Barry here?”

“What you want him for? He do something?”

“I don’t know,” Chaz said. “Did he?”

She shrugged. “He’s a good boy. Not bright, but he ain’t bad.”

Chaz walked toward the bedrooms. “Barry?”

“He ain’t here,” she said in a smoker’s voice. “Now tell me what you want with him.”

“I heard he was out at the site of the bus crash.” He didn’t have to elaborate. Everyone in town knew the place, the date, the time. It had been embedded in their memories forever. Some even used it as a reference point—before the bus crash, after the bus crash.

She shrugged. “He likes to ride his bike all over.”

“He likes to take pictures, too. I saw the ones the sheriff confiscated seven years ago.”

Her right eye twitched. “They were pictures of the girls at school, after softball practice, at the swim meet,” she said. “Not like they were naked pictures.”

Chaz arched a brow. “Does he have pictures of naked girls?”

She took another drag of her cigarette. “He may not be bright, but he’s a guy,” she said.

“Are they of real girls or are you talking magazines?”

“Those magazines. I don’t know where he gets ’em but he keeps them under his bed. He doesn’t know I found ’em.”

Chaz shifted, curious. “Do you mind if I take a look in your son’s room?”

She flicked ashes into a misshapen ashtray that Barry had obviously made out of clay. “Not if you’re trying to pin something on him. I told the sheriff years ago Barry was with me the day of that crash. He didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t say he did, but earlier he was taking photographs of Tawny-Lynn Boulder. It spooked her.”

“Barry’s not dangerous. Why’s she acting like that?”

“Because someone left bloody threats on her doorstep and in her house.”

Her eye twitched again, and she reached for a half-empty vodka bottle on the table. “He didn’t leave any threats.”

Chaz gestured to the bedroom with the posters of the high school swim and soccer teams. “If he’s innocent, then it won’t hurt for me to take a look.” This time he didn’t wait for her response.

He ducked inside and studied the room. There was a single bed covered with a navy comforter with baseballs on it, a dinosaur-shaped lamp and a collection of Hot Wheels cars that filled a shelf next to the bed.

He glanced at a desk and saw a stack of yearbooks and realized Barry collected them, even though he’d never graduated himself.

In the desk drawer, he found childlike drawings of a house with the sun shining above it, and stick figures portraying a family. Was Barry dreaming of finding a girl and marriage?