Appalachian Prey (Lavender Mountain Book 1; Appalachian Magic)

by Debbie Herbert

  Lavon lifted his shoulders and then dropped them, feigning indifference. “Nope.”

  “Look closer.”

  Lavon sighed and looked again. “Brown hair. So what.”

  “The same medium brown as yours and the same swirl pattern. Your hair. We’ll have the lab results soon enough.”

  Lavon paled. “I want to talk to my dad.”

  “He’s being questioned.”

  “Then I want to talk to a—”

  “How long have you been involved in this drug ring?” Harlan interrupted. He was about to lose Lavon. “Tell me the truth. Cooperate with us and this will go a lot easier on you and your family.”

  “My dad has nothing to do with this.”

  Now he was getting somewhere.

  “Surely, you can understand my skepticism. He already had the moonshine operation in place. It would be easy for him—and more profitable—to substitute drugs for liquor. Not only that, but also his risks were minimalized by having the local sheriff on the take.”

  “But he didn’t.” Lavon stood, clenching his fists by his sides. “I didn’t need to ask him for a thing. I got involved by myself and started making my own money.”

  His hazel eyes darkened in horror and a hand flew to his mouth. But it was too late: the self-incriminating words had been spoken.

  “Wanted to prove you were your own man, huh? Well, junior, you better start naming names. Do that, and the judge will go easier on you. That, and your young age, should go a long way to shortening your prison term.”

  “Prison? J.D. promised we’d never get caught.” Lavon sat back down and held his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. His back shook, but he didn’t make a sound.

  Lavon didn’t look so tough now. He looked like a young scared kid. Harlan nipped sympathy in the bud. That kid had come too close to hurting Lilah on two separate occasions.

  “You going to cooperate?”

  He removed his hands from his face. “I want a deal,” he said in a hard, flat voice. “And a lawyer. I ain’t going to prison.”

  Harlan stood, slipped his cell phone in his pocket and gathered up the files and the evidence. “Oh, but you are. Yeah, you’ll get a sentence reduction for naming the others, but make no mistake, jail time is in your future. I’m going to send a couple of detectives in to talk to you now.”

  In the hall, he answered Lewis’s questioning look with a thumbs-up. “He’s ready to name the others.”

  “Great. This will help break J.D. He’s pretty close as it is. I have the feeling he’s suspected for a long time that he’d eventually get caught.” Lewis shook his head. “And to think he was only a few months away from retirement. Stupid.”

  “And dangerous.” The hair on his arms bristled yet again at the thought of how close he and Lilah had come to being framed. “You going to question Alvin Lee as well?”

  “Already did. My impression is that he hasn’t committed any crime. He’s a weak man that J.D. had just started grooming to be his replacement.”

  “Okay then. Now we need to focus on the murders. Lavon had no reaction to the trophies I put in front of him. I don’t think he’s involved with the killings.”

  Lewis nodded. “I’ve been watching Ed Stovall’s interrogation. He’s singing about his limited involvement in the moonshine business, but remains adamant he didn’t kill his wife. We’ll lay photos of all the murder victims, including his former wife, in front of him to see if we get an unusual reaction. I don’t believe we will, though.”

  “What about Thad?”

  “Ed told us where the current still is, and where the liquor’s being stored. I’ve got men out now to seize the illegal moonshine. We’ll have a good case to prosecute Thad Tedder for the operation. Most likely, Ed will get off with a fine and probation.”

  Harlan thought of Ed’s three sons. “Glad to hear it. Has Thad been shown the victim photos yet?”

  Lewis held up a package. “Got some in here. Let’s hand it to Marvin Ashton, the GBI officer who’s questioning him. We can watch Thad’s reaction from the booth.”

  Harlan took his place inside the booth with several others watching and listening behind the two-way mirror.

  Thad sat across from the officer in the interrogation room that looked identical to the other. And that wasn’t all that was alike. Thad’s brown curly hair was a touch disheveled, like his son’s, and he wore the same smug arrogant look his son either emulated or came by naturally through his daddy’s DNA.

  “Like I keep telling you, I ain’t done nothing wrong and I ain’t talking to nobody but the sheriff,” Thad said.

  “And like I told you, Sheriff Bentley’s unavailable. You’re going to have to deal with me on the charges of distributing illegal liquor.”

  “I ain’t got to do shit.”

  “It’ll go a lot easier on you, and your son, if you cooperate.”

  “You leave my boy outta this.”

  “Too late.” Marvin smiled with no humor. “Lavon’s already confessed.”

  “What? But he ain’t even—he doesn’t—”

  “Not involved in your business?” Marvin asked. “Maybe not in the moonshine operation, but he’s confessed to a much bigger crime. Drug distribution. He’s looking at a long prison sentence.”

  Thad raised his arms and tugged violently at his hair. “No. He wouldn’t... I don’t believe you.”

  “They’re typing up his confession now. I can show it to you when it’s finished, if you’d like.”

  “Where’s J.D.? I want to talk to him.”

  Harlan shook his head. Thaddeus’s first inclination in seeking help was to ask for J.D. and not an attorney.

  “J.D.’s got his own troubles this morning. You didn’t notice all the cops swarming the place when they brought you in?”

  Thad swiped a hand over his face. “This is going to kill Viola.” He shuddered and a sob escaped from his throat. “My boy.”

  Like father, like son, Harlan thought.

  “Not only do we have Lavon’s confession. We have Ed Stovall’s as well. He’s told us everything he knows about what you’ve been running. Agents are out now taking possession of your still and any liquor stored in your holding place.”

  Thad smashed a fist on the table. “Damn Ed.” A crafty look stole into his eyes. “What I mean is—the man’s a liar. He’s even suspected of killing his wife. Maybe you ought to look at him a little more closely. If Ed knows so damn much, maybe he’s the one who runs the whole shebang.”

  “And then there’s another little matter we haven’t covered yet.” Marvin pulled a stack of old black-and-white photos out of the envelope and slapped it on the table. “Do you remember these women?”

  Thad froze for a moment and then a hand jerked across the table to pick up one of the photos. “What—can I look at these?”

  Without waiting for permission, Thad picked up the first photo and held it—a look of almost reverence in his eyes. His Adam’s apple twisted in his throat and he swallowed hard.

  “Bingo,” Harlan whispered. “We’ve found a killer.”

  “Yep. Look at that,” Lewis said in a low voice. “Even with a cop in the room, he can’t help fondling her photo.”

  “Recognize the woman?” Marvin prodded.

  Thad set the photo down with obvious reluctance. “Never seen her before.”

  “You’re lying. C’mon, tell me the truth.” Marvin lowered his voice and coaxed Thad as if he were merely a naughty child. “Get it off your chest,” he said gently. “You’ve held a dark secret inside for over two decades. You knew that woman, didn’t you? Knew her intimately.”

  “No. I done told you, I never seen her before.”

  Martin laid down more photos, spreading them out. “What about your brother Chauncey and your niece Darla?”

  Thad jerked
his head back, repulsed. “Put them pictures away from me. And I want a lawyer, before I say another word to you or anyone else.”

  “You’re going to need one.”

  Martin left Thad and stepped into the witness booth. “Sorry guys. He clammed up. What do we do now? Arrest him on the liquor charges?”

  “We can after we gather the evidence,” Lewis said.

  “Damn it,” Harlan muttered. “Lilah’s no safer today than yesterday. We’ve gotten nowhere on the murders.”

  “For now, she’s safe. We have an undercover cop doing ride-bys to your house. And we know more than we did coming in,” Lewis said. “We have a prime suspect now for the murder cases. We’ll bring Thaddeus back in later and book him for running moonshine. Try to shake him out a little more. In the meantime, we’ll keep working on J.D. The man knows something about the murders, I’m sure of it.”

  “That’s what I’ve said all along,” Harlan agreed. “J.D. kept insisting that the two recent homicides weren’t connected, and then he didn’t want me investigating the old murder cases. To top it off, I discovered that our only piece of physical evidence disappeared.”

  Lewis gestured to the open door. “Ready to try and break him?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Was she being followed?

  Lilah checked the rearview mirror. The black sedan was still behind her, albeit at a comfortable, non-threatening distance. It seemed out of place here—too sleek and pricey for Lavender Mountain. And she was fairly certain it had followed her route for the past couple turns on the county roads.

  She gave herself a little shake. Paranoia, much? But to be safe, she’d texted Harlan her destination, as she’d promised to do whenever she left the house. Lilah pulled up to Aunt Vi’s place, relieved to note that the sedan drove past the driveway and continued on its way. Lilah got out of the car and glanced at the gray sky that was pregnant with rain. Wind whipped the trees—they were in for a doozy of a summer storm today.

  Viola met her at the door, face swollen and puffy. Lilah’s heart squeezed. Her aunt seemed to lead an unhappy, fearful kind of life. Today had to be the worst ever, what with the cops picking up her husband and eldest son.

  “They’ve got my Lavon,” Aunt Vi sobbed and swiped at her wet cheeks.

  Lilah gave her a hug. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  Viola clung for a moment and then withdrew, rubbing her hands on her apron. “Come on in the house,” she said with great effort. Even in the midst of a family crisis, her aunt’s ingrained sense of hospitality peeked through.

  Lilah followed her inside. Although it wasn’t yet midday, the house was dark and gloomy. The curtains were drawn tight over the windows and the TV set was off. Nothing interrupted the funereal silence. And it was one of the few times Lilah could recall that she’d been here and there was no aroma of a meal being cooked. Aunt Vi almost always had a stew of some sort simmering in the kitchen.

  She sat on the sofa and regarded Viola with concern. “I’m glad you called me to come over,” she began. “Thought maybe you’d be upset with me after I told Harlan about hearing Lavon that night in the woods.”

  “I was at first,” she said. “Then I had to admit that somehow I’d lost control of my child. When Lavon was young and lost his temper, or did something naughty, I’d hope and pray he’d grow out of it. But he never did. Things only got worse. He kept getting into trouble. And now they suspect he’s a—a drug dealer.”

  The tears spilled again and her body wracked with sobs. Lilah absently placed a hand over her stomach. She couldn’t imagine how painful it must be having your child disappoint you in that way.

  “I don’t know what to say, except that you are a good mother, a good person. None of this is your fault. Lavon’s an adult and he makes his own choices.”

  Oh, but she did fault Uncle Thad. Lavon was following in his dad’s footsteps by breaking the law.

  Lilah bit her lip, reconsidering. No, she couldn’t entirely blame Thad. After all, her dad had broken the law as well, and look how great her brother, Jimmy, had turned out. He’d been awarded all kind of medals for his military service in the Middle East.

  “Have you heard anything this morning from Harlan?” Vi asked, taking a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and twisting it in her lap. “Have they arrested Lavon?”

  “I haven’t heard a thing. I’ll tell you right away if I do.”

  Vi nodded. “I’m not worried so much about Thad. He always seems to escape trouble. But drugs are a whole lot more serious than moonshine. I imagine Thad isn’t too worried for himself.”

  That’s what came from having the local sheriff in your back pocket. But Lilah didn’t point that out.

  Viola rounded her shoulders, sat up stiffly in the chair and pinned her with bloodshot eyes. “Do you really believe it was Lavon that shot at you?”

  “I do.” No sense lying.

  Viola’s lips twisted. “I’m sure he meant it as a warning shot. He wouldn’t hurt his own cousin.”

  Her tone was weak, defeated, as if she couldn’t muster the strength to believe her own words.

  “I hope his intent wasn’t to harm me. But we’ll never know.”

  Viola shook her head, pushing back a shock of gray limp hair that had fallen in her eyes. “He’s not capable of murder. Guess you might find it hard to believe and think I’m just a blind, biased mama for saying this, but I know Lavon. He’s no murderer.”

  Lilah’s chest seized and a roar sounded in her ears. Did Viola know something about Dad and Darla’s murders? “Who said anything about murder?” she asked quietly.

  “Come now, child, their deaths are here between us like a living presence. Don’t you feel it?”

  “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “I mean that whoever killed them probably knew them. What’s that they always say on them TV crime shows? You want a suspect, look at the immediate family.”

  “If you have information, come on out and say it.”

  Viola stood abruptly and walked to a window, peeking out from behind the lace curtain. “If I’m wrong, you’re going to think I’m the sorriest wife a husband ever had.”

  “Uncle Thad?” Lilah stood and the room spun. Her breath quickened. “Did he kill them? Why?”

  “I don’t know for sure that he’s the killer. Says he didn’t do it, but...he lies to me. All the time. He has other women.” She dropped her hold on the curtain and faced Lilah. “You ever hear that about Thad? He has run around on our marriage for years.”

  Yeah, she’d heard rumors; it was a small town after all. “The murders,” Lilah said, redirecting her aunt. “Why would he kill Dad and Darla?”

  “I’m not sure about Darla, but Chauncey had been blackmailing him for the past few months.”

  “Dad wouldn’t do—” Lilah stopped abruptly and thumped her forehead with her palm. “The thirty thousand dollars. Is that how he got it?”

  “Thad paid him cash every week. Oh, your dad swore it wasn’t blackmail—that he just wanted extra money to leave his children.”

  “That’s not blackmail. Sounds to me like he just asked Uncle Thad for help.”

  “But he told Thad that he’d been shortchanged over the years in the moonshine business. Said he’d done most of the work and had nothing to show for it. Chauncey demanded Thad pay up.”

  She’d always suspected as much herself. Thad and his family always seemed to have money while her dad had always been broke. “It’s still not blackmail unless Dad threatened Uncle Thad in some way.”

  “Thad claimed he was afraid Chauncey would turn him in, but it wasn’t exactly spelled out.”

  Lilah bit her tongue. It all sounded pretty nebulous in her opinion. Dad would never have turned in his own brother. Besides, he’d get in trouble himself.

  “Thad’s been
worried that if the cops found out, they’d suspect he had a motive to kill Chauncey. When they took him away this morning... Well, I can’t help wondering if the cops are questioning him about that.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Lilah asked slowly. “If the cops don’t know, you must realize I have to tell them.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Aunt Viola hung her head.

  Lilah mulled over the conversation and Vi’s strange behavior. “You suspect Thad’s the killer.”

  Silence hung between them like a ticking bomb.

  Vi licked her lips. “It’s possible,” she whispered.

  “You have to tell Harlan.”

  “Accuse my own husband with no proof?”

  Vi stared blankly into space for a few heartbeats. “Always thought his tomfoolery was the worst thing that could ever happen to me,” she said flatly. “Then Lavon started getting in trouble, and I thought that was the worst. But that wasn’t it neither. For weeks, I’ve harbored suspicion about my own husband, and that was horrible. But, today...”

  Lilah’s heart thumped like drum. “What is it?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Vi rose and lumbered down the hallway, her steps as heavy as if her shoulders bore the weight of generations of Tedder sins.

  Had her uncle really killed her father? And what about Darla? Maybe the killings were unrelated after all.

  Viola returned carrying a leather drawstring pouch. “Found this hid behind the bathroom pipes when I reached for the plunger. I wish to God I never had.”

  She took the pouch and opened its tie with shaking fingers. Could it be shotgun shells? A confession note? Lilah carefully shook out the contents.

  The leather bracelet with its crimson stone, the bright beaded necklace Darla had once worn, the tarnished silver ring with the fake cameo carving and yet another ring with a gold band and small diamond solitaire. Where had she seen that ring before?

  “Looks like Darla’s wedding ring, don’t it?” Aunt Vi asked.

  Yes. Of course. At least she could be certain now that Ed hadn’t done it.