Troy hated to burst his buddy’s bubble, but he’d dated Violet Manning a couple of times before she’d gotten engaged to Keith and she’d been a major disappointment on her back and on her knees. Whatever power she held over her husband, it wasn’t sex, oral or otherwise. Troy finished off his beer and gestured for the bartender to bring him another.
“Gotta take my shot.” Perry sauntered back over to the pool table to drop the last of the stripes.
“I’m cuttin’ you off, Baker.”
Troy pointed a nasty look at the guy behind the bar. “You saying I’m drunk, Bradley?” Bradley Peters had been a bully back in school, and not much had changed. Then again, with a last name like Peters, what was a guy to do?
Bradley leaned across the bar and put his face in Troy’s. “That’s right; you got a problem with it?”
Troy grinned. “Hell no.” He hitched his thumb toward the pool table. “No need to get your panties in a wad; Perry’s giving me a ride home.”
Bradley turned his junkyard dog glare from Troy to Larry. “You’d better catch a ride with Woods yourself, Medford. I don’t want the chief on my back.”
The chief. Ray Hale had his finger in every damned thing around this town. It hadn’t been a problem until he’d let the world see his secret obsession with Clint Austin. Just went to show that you couldn’t really trust anybody.
Nursing his last beer, Larry leaned toward Troy and whispered, “What do you think we should do next?”
Now there was a friend a guy could count on when the chips were down. It chafed Troy’s ass that Keith was wimping out the way he was. He was supposed to have loved Heather. She had sure as hell loved him.
Troy closed his eyes and tried with no luck to shut out the images from that awful night. He’d sat on the stairs watching through the railings after the doorbell rang, waking everybody up from a dead sleep. Chief Don Ledbetter had given Troy’s folks the bad news. His mother had collapsed. Ledbetter’s wife had stayed with Troy and his mom while his father went with the chief to the Wallace house.
Troy had needed to know what was going on. So he’d sneaked out and run all the way to Emily’s house. The cops had been so busy trying to make heads or tails out of the crime scene that they hadn’t noticed him peeking from the bedroom doorway ... staring at his sister’s motionless body and all that blood.
Emily Wallace had been rushed to the hospital. Shock or something like that. But her father had been right there in the room with the cops and Principal Call. Troy would never forget how the men in the room, including his own father and the chief, had cried.
Troy hadn’t cried. Not then anyway. He’d just wanted to know where Austin was. He’d wanted to hurt Austin.
But Austin had already been taken to jail.
The county coroner took Heather away in a big, black body bag that night. It was the last time Troy had seen his sister until the funeral nearly a week later. As her coffin was lowered into the ground, he’d made a promise. Clint Austin would get what was coming to him.
Troy turned toward his friend. “I’ll tell you what we do next. We make sure Austin knows we mean business.”
12
Wednesday, July 17; 7:50 a.m.
Yesterday’s surveillance of Austin had yielded absolutely nothing useful to Emily. But it was a new day and another opportunity.
Emily parked near the football field on school property and powered her window down to allow the meager breeze to filter into her SUV. The temperature was sweltering already. She’d narrowly missed running into her mother before she got away this morning. Avoiding her parents as much as possible was necessary. Leave early; stay out late. Cut way down on the friction and kept clear of thezones.
She could think here. This high school was the last place where she’d had a life and friends ... felt safe. Plus, she wanted to talk to Principal Call. She hated, hated, hated that she couldn’t put the niggling thought out of her head, but she simply couldn’t. The new trial had drilled home the lack of tangible evidence used in the original trial, succeeding in forcing Emily to play over and over what she remembered about that night. She knew beyond all doubt what had happened. She was there. No question about what she had witnessed. And yet some stupid part of her just wouldn’t let go of the insensitive statements made in that trial. She refused to admit for a second that anything Austin had said last night played a part in her decision to come here this morning.
Your efforts would be much better spent, Miss Wallace, trying to find out who else was in your room that night and whether or not it was actually you they were after.
Emily banished the sound of Clint Austin’s voice from her head. She would not let him intrude. His suggestion was completely unfounded. Who would have wanted to hurt Heather? Austin just wanted her second-guessing herself, to get her off his back maybe.
Unfortunately, like that hotshot lawyer some advocacy group had hired for Clint’s second trial, he had succeeded in making her do just that.
A dozen girls ran out onto the football field, drawing her attention from the frustrating thought. Emily should have remembered that cheer practice didn’t stop just because the school year ended. She and Heather had taken the field at least three times each week all summer long. The familiar formation and chanting had Emily leaning forward in her seat, remembering the days before that night ... when her life ended.
“Emily Wallace? Is that you?”
Her head snapped to the left so fast she was sure she’d whiplashed herself. Principal Call was just getting out of his car. Talk about zoning out. She hadn’t even noticed the arrival of another vehicle.
Emily stumbled in her haste to get out and properly greet him. “Yes, sir, it’s me.” She righted her posture and instinctively pulled at the hem of her blouse. Just hearing his booming voice made her feel seventeen again, klutzy and worried that she would get into trouble.
He had scarcely changed at all. Big, tall, and bald and fully equipped with mind-reading capabilities.
