Murder at Sunset Rock, page 2
By the time an SUV bearing the sheriff’s department logo arrived, Olivia had pulled herself together once more and gone through the house again in search of the camera. It was not there, which made sense since Willy would not have left the house without it. Why hadn’t the Nikon been found with him? If he’d had it with him, and he most assuredly would have, then it had to be in the vicinity of where he had been found. Seemed like a very good question to ask the deputy climbing out of the SUV. It wasn’t the sheriff, which was fine by her. She wasn’t ready to see anyone who had been that close to Willy.
Olivia braced herself. So far she’d gotten through the search without falling completely apart, but she’d been on a mission. Adrenaline and anger had been fueling her. The anger had fizzled out at this point, and the adrenaline had faded. Her bravado was sinking fast.
Hold it together a little while longer.
As the deputy walked toward the porch, he removed his cap and gave her a nod. “Liv.” When he reached the steps, he glanced down, gave his head a shake. “I am so sorry about Willy.”
Maybe it was her mind’s decision to zero in on the neatly pressed button-down shirt that seemed to barely contain broad shoulders and the faded jeans hugging long legs that threw her off. Or the baseball cap with the gold star emblazoned on it that he held in his hands—hands she knew as well as her own—that caused her to suddenly lose the ability to speak. No. It was none of those things. It was him.
Huck Monroe.
What was he doing here? Had he heard about Willy’s death already? Had he driven all the way up from Miami? Wasn’t he a sheriff’s deputy there? Despite the circumstances, she almost laughed out loud. Huck Monroe had never visited. Not once that she was aware of in ten damned years. Why would he bother now?
“What’re you doing here?” she demanded.
Her brain was playing tricks on her, obviously. She hadn’t been able to read the identifying letters on the cap as it hung from his hands. But the Hamilton County SUV was sitting in the driveway, the lettering large and easily readable. Yet that made no sense. Huck had taken off for sun and sand and whatever else in south Florida that had attracted him forever ago.
He offered a sad smile. “I live here now.” Hitched his head toward the SUV. “I’m a detective with the sheriff’s department.”
Wait. What? “When?” It was the only word she could force past her lips.
Why hadn’t Willy told her about Huck coming back home? Maybe because she had made it clear she did not want to hear that name ever again.
She blinked away the memory of shouting those words at Willy.
What did it matter and why would she care? Particularly at the moment. The fissure in her heart widened. Her grandfather was dead.
Maybe she swayed the slightest bit, or her face paled. Whatever the case, Huck reached for her.
“You okay?” His hand clamped around her arm to steady her.
No. She tugged away from his grasp. She couldn’t do this. Not right now. “I need someone else.” Her move to get away turned into more of a stumble back a couple of steps. The worry that clouded his face turned her confusion to renewed anger.
No. This was not acceptable.
“Why don’t we go inside and have a seat?” he offered, ignoring her demand. “Then you can tell me what’s going on?”
What she wanted was to call the sheriff’s office and ask that they send someone else, but even in her current emotionally charged state she understood that would be petty and silly. She simply needed to pull herself together and get this done. When the words and images whirling in her head had calmed and her heart had stopped twisting, she could think more clearly. She had to make that happen sooner rather than later. This was not the time for childish behavior.
Deep breath. “Fine.”
She turned and walked into the house. He followed.
“Wow.” Huck gave a long, low whistle.
Yeah, she thought. Wow.
“Have you had a look around?” he asked as he surveyed the mess. “Noticed anything missing?”
“I looked around, yes. I can’t find his Nikon.” She rested her hands on her hips to prevent the shaking that had started there. What was wrong with her? Even her knees suddenly felt rubbery.
Shock. This had all been too much for a person who’d had no sleep in more than twenty-four hours and, now that she thought about it, hadn’t eaten.
“His camera is missing?”
“I think so. At least, I haven’t found it.” She nodded, feeling overwhelmed. “I tried not to touch anything once I was beyond the front door.” She glanced back in that direction. “Other than Willy’s shotgun. I carried it with me through the house and when I checked the barn and shed.”
“You were smart to be careful.” He gave a nod. “We’ll get our crime-scene investigators out here to check for prints.”
The swell of emotions was back. Fierce and insistent, like a swarm of bees expelled from their colony and searching for a new hive. Another idea, one far more sinister leached into her soul. Her eyes didn’t know where to land. Her heart was unsure of how to slow down and efficiently pump. She felt on the verge of collapse, and yet she wanted to run screaming through the woods.
This could not be happening.
“They said he fell.” Her gaze settled on him... Huck—the boy she’d fallen in love with at fifteen. The boy with whom she’d thought she would be spending the rest of her life. The man who had decided not to wait for her. The man who had left and never looked back.
She sank into the closest chair. She was exhausted. The call from the sheriff had come at two yesterday afternoon. She had left work, rushed back to her townhouse, thrown a few things into a bag and hopped into her car. She had literally driven all night, stopping only for gas. Her brain was no longer functioning properly; otherwise, she would know exactly what to say and do next. She was generally far more collected and self-assured than this.
Willy was dead.
Gone forever.
She surveyed the chaos left behind in his home.
And someone had done this...it was no accident.
Huck was suddenly next to her, crouched down and looking her directly in the eyes. “The medical examiner found nothing to suggest foul play. Nothing at all suspicious.” He surveyed the carnage in the room. “But unless you believe your grandfather made this mess himself or we can find something more that’s missing, we need to determine if there’s a connection between his fall and what we see here that would suggest a different conclusion.”
Was he proposing that someone had killed Willy?
“This—” she waved her hand at the room “—makes you think someone may have pushed him?”
Who would do such a thing? For the most part, Willy had been a hermit in his later years. He and her gran traveled the world in the early days, as much time on the road as at home. At least until Olivia’s mother reached school age, and then they’d had to give up so much traveling to raise their daughter. Not once had her grandparents ever spoken of a single regret. They had loved this place. A lump swelled in her throat. He was gone. The last member of her family. Tears burned her eyes all over again.
She blinked and glared at the man who hadn’t answered her question. “What are you saying?” she demanded.
“This,” he said, “is the definition of suspicious circumstances.”
Chapter Two
6:30 p.m.
Huck Monroe kept an eye on Olivia. She looked ready to fall to pieces. She’d lost her grandfather, her last remaining family. Worse, now there was reason to believe—at least in Huck’s opinion—foul play may have been involved.
The crime-scene unit had arrived an hour ago, but they were far from finished. Though the Ballard cabin wasn’t very big, the old man had kept a lot of stuff. Huck wouldn’t call him a hoarder, but he definitely wasn’t one to let go of anything easily. Too many memories, he would always say. There were more photographs in the house than anything else. But then William Ballard had been a photographer with a long, much celebrated career and numerous prestigious awards.
Huck’s gaze slid back to the swing hanging from that big old tree where Olivia had sequestered herself. The massive oak had always been her favorite. His too really. They’d climbed it enough times. Her grandfather had hung that swing when Olivia’s mother was a child.
She looked so alone. His gut clenched. His first inclination was to comfort her, but they no longer had that kind of relationship. Ten years was a long time not to speak to someone, but Olivia hadn’t forgiven him yet. He doubted she would have spoken to him today if not for the terrible circumstances.
She hadn’t been home in months. Willy had told him she was home last Christmas. Oddly enough, Huck had almost driven over to see her. He’d moved back to Hamilton County earlier in the fall. Willy had been only too happy to have Huck back in the area. He’d welcomed him as if nothing bad had ever happened.
Obviously, he hadn’t told Olivia about Huck’s return. Probably hadn’t wanted to deal with the backlash. Olivia didn’t talk to or about Huck, Willy had explained. Never wanted to hear his name again. At least that was what she’d said the last time, according to Willy, that he’d mentioned Huck. She hated him for leaving. Refused to consider or even hear his reasons.
Huck walked back into the house. He couldn’t keep standing on the porch staring at her, no matter that he wanted to. He’d repeatedly suggested she let him take her somewhere else—his place, a hotel, any place so she wouldn’t have to watch this painful but necessary step. She had refused, of course.
He really couldn’t blame her. She had every right to feel the way she did, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it a decade ago. Time had changed his mind, made him see his own mistakes in what happened. The truth was, he’d had no good reason for leaving. Other than the fact that she’d gone to Atlanta for college and seeing her only every other weekend had made him restless and more than a little jealous. He’d lasted more than a year, nearly two. Managed to get through the academy and start work as a sheriff’s deputy. He’d been happy for a while, then he’d made a mistake he couldn’t take back. He’d decided on a surprise visit to see her in Atlanta. Her schedule was so hectic they’d had to plan any visits. He’d known this well, but he’d gone anyway. The certainty that she would somehow outgrow him had planted deep roots in his psyche. Had made him doubt her.
Then he’d seen her with friends. Study friends, she always explained. Whenever she spent the whole weekend studying and other people were involved, she called them study friends. He’d seen her and those friends gathered around picnic tables in a park near the university. Huck had started toward the group, but then he’d noticed the guy who seemed particularly taken with Olivia.
His real mistake had been in not walking over to that picnic table and introducing himself. Instead, Huck had spent the entire weekend shadowing Olivia and her friends. The closeness, the comradery he’d seen had been like a flash from the future. He would never be like those people. He hadn’t gone to college, had no plans to. He didn’t drive a sports car or wear the latest fashions.
He just didn’t fit in with the life he saw happening for Olivia. The last thing he wanted to do was hold her back. He had remembered vividly all the conversations about traveling the world and exploring the possibilities out there. By twenty-one, he had realized his possibilities were far more limited than hers.
He hadn’t wanted Olivia to ever feel in any way limited. So he’d left. Taken a job as a deputy in Miami-Dade County. Olivia would be better off without having to worry about him. He’d left without a word to her or to her grandfather.
She hadn’t forgiven him.
He’d made a mistake.
He considered the painting of Olivia one of the techs was processing. It had hung over the fireplace, just above that shotgun rack, for as long as Huck could remember. Incredibly, she was even more beautiful now than she was as a young girl and that was saying something. Never married. Traveled the world. Worked in places he’d never even dreamed of visiting. Then a year ago, she’d taken a more permanent position in Montana. Willy figured she had decided it was time to settle down.
Huck wondered if there was someone. He shook his head. None of his business.
He’d given up that right better than ten years ago.
Funny, when he was near her, it felt like only yesterday that they had last kissed. That her fingers had caressed his jaw and her long, silky hair had whispered against his skin.
He shook off the thoughts and focused on the work. Something had gone down in this house, perhaps before Willy went over that cliff. Huck intended to find the truth. He owed the man. Not only because he had forgiven Huck and welcomed him back as if he’d never left, but because he had always treated Huck like family. Huck would not fail him now.
He wouldn’t fail Olivia either.
A walk through the house gave him a good idea of how much more time was needed, then he headed outside to update Olivia. She should decide where she intended to stay for the night. He didn’t see any reason she couldn’t return to the house in the morning, but that wasn’t happening tonight.
As he approached, her head came up. “Have they found anything?”
He hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but she hadn’t said his name. Not once in the past couple of hours had she called him Huck. Clearly, she still hated him. It wasn’t like she didn’t have every right to.
“We won’t know until the analysis is complete. In any home, there are lots of prints. Screening the ones that should be there from the ones that shouldn’t takes time. So far, nothing that shouldn’t be here has been found.”
She nodded, opened her mouth to say something and then closed it.
“This is a really tough time for you,” he said, softening his voice despite the tension humming inside him. “To get this kind of news and then come home to a scene like this one. It’s hard. As difficult as it is, the best thing you can do is get a good night’s sleep and come back in the morning. You’ll see things more clearly then.”
Olivia stared at him, her dark eyes digging deep into him, making him want to hug the hell out of her. He imagined she wouldn’t be too happy if he tried.
“You’re right.” She looked away. “I should go to a hotel and get some sleep.” She stood, leaving the old wooden swing to sway listlessly in the air. “I’ll be able to digest all this better tomorrow.”
An urgency plowed through him. The strangest thought that maybe if he let her get away, he wouldn’t see her again for another ten years accompanied the sensation.
“Look,” he said, his voice rough, “I know this might sound a little crazy, but I moved into the old homeplace. It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room, and I’ll probably be here for most of the night, so you’d have the place to yourself.”
She stared at him in something that resembled confusion or astonishment.
Rather than give her the chance to consider what he was saying, he dug out his keys, pulled the one for the house free and thrust it at her. “Go. You’ll be safe there.”
Then he managed a half smile, turned and headed back into the house. She didn’t call after him. Didn’t tell him to go to hell and fling his key at him. When he reached the front door of the cabin and dared to look back, she had walked to her car and climbed in. Relief washed over him. He watched until she was gone. It was the least he could do. Before he could go inside another vehicle arrived. Sheriff Arnold Decker himself.
Huck walked down the steps and headed toward his boss. Decker had turned the big seven-oh last year, but he had no plans to retire anytime soon. The citizens of Hamilton County loved the guy. He was a good man. A damned good sheriff. He’d been voted in by a landslide after the county’s beloved Tarrence Norwood’s ill health had forced him to retire.
“Monroe.” Decker nodded. “What’ve we got here?”
The sheriff was far too busy to show up at every crime scene, especially one that hadn’t been confirmed as of yet. But William Ballard wasn’t just any victim. Back in the day, he had been one of Chattanooga’s biggest and most beloved celebrities. Fact was, he and Decker had spent plenty of time fishing together. The two had been good friends for as long as Huck could recall.
“Olivia came home and found the house and shed a wreck.”
Decker would know the shed wasn’t just some place to store tools. It was Willy’s darkroom and workplace. The space where award-winning photos had been developed. His wife’s art studio was in there as well. She and Willy had turned that old building into an artist’s work retreat before sheds were in for that sort of thing.
Decker settled his hands on his hips. “The ME’s report said he fell.” He shrugged. “An accident. No suspicious circumstances.”
Huck nodded. “But the house and shed suggest a different story.”
Decker swore, shook his head. “Let’s have a look.”
Chattanooga and the surrounding area might be Tennessee’s fourth largest metropolitan area, but communities like Sunset Cove gave the area a small-town atmosphere where folks knew their neighbors. Huck had kicked himself repeatedly for ever leaving. He’d given up on Olivia and that had been the biggest mistake of all. Even Willy had worried that it might be too late to ever repair the damage. God knows they had discussed it many times.
