Blood on Copperhead Trail

by Paula Graves

  He looked at her hand, then back up to her. “I got them.”

  She was on the verge of pulling her hand back when he leaned forward and closed his big, tanned hand around hers. He had rough, dry palms, suggesting at least a passing acquaintance with manual labor.

  He let go of her hand and waved toward the empty seat across from him in the booth. “Can I buy you lunch?”

  Not an alligator, she thought as she carefully sat across from him. More like a chameleon, able to go seamlessly from predator to charmer in a second flat. “I’m actually having lunch with one of your detectives.” She glanced at the corner where Ivy sat, shamelessly watching them.

  Chief Massey followed her gaze and gave a little wave at Ivy.

  Ivy blushed a little at being caught staring, but she waved back and then pulled out her cell phone and made a show of checking her messages.

  “Good detective, from what I’m told.” Massey’s full mouth curved. “She’s the one who broke the serial-murder case a couple of months ago.”

  “She didn’t have much help from her chief of detectives.”

  Massey’s green-eyed gaze snapped forward to lock with hers. “Let’s just get things out in the open, Ms. Hanvey. Can we do that?” His accent was Southern, but sleeker than her own mountain twang she’d worked so hard to conquer. He’d come to Bitterwood from a place called Terrebonne on the Alabama Gulf Coast.

  “Get things out in the open?” she repeated.

  “You may think you’re here to ferret out the snakes in our midst. But you’re really here because your bosses in the county government have been wanting the Ridge County Sheriff’s Department to swallow up small police forces like Bitterwood P.D. for a while now. Ridge County could justify the tax increase they’re wanting to impose if they suddenly had a bigger jurisdiction to cover.”

  Laney hid her surprise. For a guy who looked like all he wanted to do was catch the next big wave, Doyle Massey had clearly done his homework about Ridge County politics. “Technically, Ridge County Sheriff’s Department already covers Bitterwood.”

  “If invited to participate in investigations,” Massey corrected gently.

  “Or if the department in question is under investigation,” she shot back firmly. “Which you are.”

  He gave a nod of acceptance. “Which we are. But I don’t see the point of fooling ourselves about this. You and I may both want to clean up the Bitterwood Police Department. But we’re not on the same team.”

  “Maybe not. But if you think my goal here is to shut your department down, you’re wrong. And if you think I’ll go along with whatever my bosses tell me to do, you’re wrong about that, too. I’m looking for the truth, wherever that leads me.”

  He lifted his hands and clapped slowly. “Brava. An honest woman.”

  She felt her lips curling with anger at his sarcastic display. She pushed to her feet. “I expect full cooperation from the police department in my investigation.”

  He rose with her. “You’ll have it.”

  Frustration swelled in her chest, strangling her as she tried to think of something to say just so he wouldn’t have the last word. But the trilling of her cell phone broke the tense silence rising between them. She grabbed the phone from her purse and saw her mother’s phone number.

  “I have to take this,” she said and moved away, lifting the phone to her ears. “Hi, Mama.”

  “Oh, Charlane, thank God you answered. I’ve been tryin’ not to worry, but she was supposed to be home hours ago, and she’s always been so good about being on time—” Alice Hanvey sounded close to tears.

  “Mama, slow down.” Laney dropped into the booth across from Ivy, giving the other woman an apologetic look. “Janelle’s late coming home from somewhere?”

  “She and a couple of girls went hiking two days ago, but they were supposed to be home this morning in time for her to get to school. I knew I should have insisted they come home last night instead.”

  “Hiking where?”

  “Up on Copperhead Ridge. At least, that’s what she said. I’ve been trying to encourage her to get out and do things with her friends, like you said I should. I know I can be overprotective, but you can’t be too careful these days—”

  “She’s old enough to go hiking with some friends. What do you know about these girls she went with?”

  “They’re good girls. You know the Adderlys—they live over on Belmont Road near the church? Their daddy’s a county commissioner. I think you may have gone to school with his cousin Daniel—”

  “I know them. They were supposed to be back home in time for school?” Laney interrupted before her mother went through the whole family tree. She knew the Adderlys well, even socializing with them sometimes as part of her job with the district attorney’s office.

  “Joy and Missy are crazy about hiking club, and you know Janelle’s been walking up and down those mountains since before she could talk good, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. She’s so good about keeping her word—”

  “You’ve tried calling her on her cell phone?”

  “Of course, but you know how reception can be in the mountains.”

  “Are you sure there weren’t any boys going with them? Or maybe they were meeting some boys up on the mountain?”

  “She’s been sort of dating Britt Lomand, but I already called over there, and Britt’s home. He’s just getting over the flu—his mama said he’s been home all weekend.”

  “Missy Adderly has a boyfriend.”

  “They broke up a month ago,” Alice corrected. “Should I call the police and report her missing? It was awful cold last night on the mountain.”

  Laney glanced at Ivy, who was watching her through narrowed eyes. “The police don’t normally drop everything to look for a teenager who’s a little late getting home, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Please call me if you find out anything.”

  “You call me if you hear from her. I’ll talk to you soon, Mama. Try not to worry too much. Jannie’s probably just lost track of the time, or maybe she was running late and went straight to school.”

  “I never thought of that,” Alice admitted. “I’ll call the school, ask if she’s showed up.”

  “Good idea. Call when you know something.” She shut off her phone and met Ivy’s curious gaze. “My sister went hiking up in the hills over the weekend with a couple of girlfriends, and she’s late getting back home. She was supposed to be home in time to shower and dress for school.”

  “Cutting it close.”

  Laney saw the conflicted thoughts playing out behind Ivy’s expressive eyes. “Yeah, I know. At that age, they think they get to make their own rules. But Janelle’s pretty levelheaded.”

  “Guess that runs in the family.”

  Laney wasn’t sure whether Ivy meant the comparison as a compliment. Being thought of as a Goody Two-shoes wasn’t exactly the goal of any high school student—she herself had chafed under the moniker through her high school years. Calling someone a good girl back then had been the same as calling her dull.

  Maybe Janelle was rebelling against the perception herself by skipping school and making everybody worry?

  She punched in her sister’s cell phone number and waited for an answer. It didn’t go immediately to voice mail as it usually did when Janelle’s phone was out of range of a cell signal. After four rings, there was a click.

  But it wasn’t her sister’s voice she heard on the other line. Nor was it Janelle’s overly cute voice-mail message.

  Instead she heard only the sound of breathing and, faintly in the distance, the rustle of leaves.

  “Hello?” she said into the receiver.

  The breathing continued for a moment. Then the line went dead.

  “Did she answer?” Ivy asked.

&
nbsp; Laney shook her head. “But someone was on the other end of the line—”

  Ivy’s phone rang, the trill jangling Laney’s taut nerves. Ivy shot her a look of apology and answered. “What’s up, Antoine?”

  The detective’s brow creased deeply, and she darted a look at Laney so full of dread that Laney’s breath caught in her chest.

  “On my way,” Ivy said and hung up the phone. “I’ve got to run.”

  “What is it?” Laney asked, swallowing her dread as Ivy dug in her pocket for money, carefully not meeting Laney’s eyes.

  “Someone called in a body. I’m heading to the crime scene to see what we can sort out.” Ivy put a ten on the table. “Ask Christie to box up my order and put it in the fridge. I’ll pick it up later.”

  Laney caught Ivy’s arm. “Where’s the crime scene?”

  Ivy’s gaze slid up to meet hers. “Up on Copperhead Ridge.”

  Chapter Two

  “What’s she doing here?” Doyle Massey asked Ivy Hawkins as she crossed to where he and Detective Antoine Parsons stood near the body.

  On the other side of the yellow crime-scene tape, Laney Hanvey stood with her arms crossed tightly over her body as if trying to hold herself together. Her face was pale except where the hike up the cold mountain had reddened her nose and cheeks. Her blue eyes met his, sharp with dread.

  Ivy looked over her shoulder. “Her sister went hiking up here over the weekend and didn’t show up this morning when she was supposed to. I couldn’t talk her out of coming.”

  He dragged his gaze from Laney’s worried face and nodded at the body. “Female. Late teens, early twenties. Do you know what the sister looks like?”

  Ivy edged closer to the body, trying not to disturb the area directly around her. “It’s not Janelle Hanvey. It’s Missy Adderly. No ID?”

  “Not that we’ve found. We’ve tried not to disturb the body too much,” Detective Parsons answered for Doyle.

  “TBI on the way?” Ivy asked.

  It took Doyle a moment to realize she was talking about the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. He’d have to bone up on the local terminology. “Yeah.”

  Doyle found his gaze traveling back to Laney Hanvey’s huddled figure. He left his detectives discussing the case and crossed to where she stood.

  She looked up at him, fear bright in her eyes. “Chief.”

  “It’s not your sister.”

  A visible shudder of relief rippled through her, but the fear in her eyes didn’t go away. “One of the Adderly girls?”

  “Detective Hawkins says it’s Missy Adderly.”

  Laney lifted one hand to her mouth, horror darkening her eyes. “God.”

  “Your sister was hiking up here with the Adderly sisters this weekend?”

  Laney nodded slowly, dropping her hand. “They left Friday night to go hiking and camping. My mother said Janelle and the girls had planned to be back home first thing this morning so Jannie and Missy could get to school on time.” Her throat bobbed nervously. “Jannie’s senior year. She was so excited about graduating and going off to college.”

  “She’s a good student?” he asked carefully.

  Laney’s gaze had drifted toward the clump of detectives surrounding the body. It snapped back to meet Doyle’s. “A very good student. A good girl.” Her lips twisted wryly as she said the words. “I know that’s what most families say about their kids, but in this case, it’s true. Janelle’s a good girl. She’s never given my mother any trouble. Ever.”

  There’s always a first time, Doyle thought. And a good girl on the cusp of leaving home and seeing the world was ripe for it.

  “Was it an accident?” There was dreadful hope in Laney’s voice. Doyle felt sick about having to dash it.

  “No.”

  She released a long sigh, her breath swirling through the cold air in a wispy cloud of condensation. “Then you may have three victims, not just one.”

  He nodded, hating the fear in her eyes but knowing he would be doing her no favors to give her false hope. “We’ve already called in local trackers to start looking around for the other girls.”

  “I called her cell phone. Back at the diner. Someone answered but didn’t speak.” Laney hugged herself more tightly.

  Doyle felt the unexpected urge to wrap his own arms around her, to help her hold herself together. “Could it have been your sister on the other end?”

  “I want to believe it could,” she admitted, once again dragging her straying gaze away from the body and back to him. “But I don’t think it was.”

  “Did you hear anything at all?”

  “Breathing, I think. The sound of rustling, like the wind through dead leaves. Nothing else. Then the call cut off.”

  “Anything that might give us an idea of a location?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think.”

  “It’s okay.” He put his hand on her shoulder, felt the nervous ripple of her body beneath his touch. She was like a skittish colt, all fear and nerves.

  He knew exactly what that kind of terror felt like.

  “No, it’s not.” She shook off his hand and visibly straightened her spine, her chin coming up to stab the cold air. “I know the clock is ticking.”

  Tough lady, he thought. “You said you heard rustling. What about birds? Did you hear any birds?”

  Her eyes narrowed, her focus shifting inward. “No, I didn’t hear any birds.”

  “What about the breathing? Could you tell whether it was a man or a woman?”

  “Man,” she answered, her gaze focusing on his face again. “He didn’t vocalize, exactly, but there was a masculine quality to his breathing. I don’t know how to explain it—”

  “Was he breathing regularly? Slow? Fast?”

  “Fast,” she answered. “I think that’s what was so creepy about it. He was almost panting.”

  Panting could mean a lot of things, Doyle reminded himself as a cold draft slid beneath the collar of his jacket, sending chill bumps down his back. It could have been a hiker who wasn’t in good shape. Might not have been anyone connected to this murder or the girls’ disappearance, for that matter. Maybe someone had found the phone, answered the ring but was too out of breath to speak.

  Or maybe he was breathing hard because he’d just chased down three teenage girls like the predator he was.

  He tried not to telegraph his grim thoughts to Laney Hanvey, but she was no fool. She didn’t need his help imagining the worst.

  “She’s not alive, is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But the odds are—”

  “I’m not a gambler,” he said firmly. “I don’t deal with odds. I deal with facts. And the facts are, we have only one body so far.”

  “Who’s out looking for the other girls?”

  At the moment, he had to admit, no one was. It took time to form a search party. “We’ve put out the call to nearby agencies. The county boys, the park patrol, Blount and Sevier County agencies. They’re going to lend us officers for a search.”

  “That’s not soon enough.” Laney turned and started hiking around the perimeter of the crime-scene tape, heading up the trail.

  Doyle looked back at the crime scene and saw Ivy Hawkins looking at him, her brow furrowed. She gave a nod toward Laney, as if to say she and Parsons had the crime scene covered.

  He was the chief of police now, not another investigator. While Bitterwood might be a small force, he didn’t need to micromanage his detectives. They’d already proved they could do a good job—he’d familiarized himself with their work before he took the job.

  Meanwhile, he had a public-relations problem stalking up the mountain while he waffled about leaving a crime scene that was clearly under control.

  He ducked unde
r the crime-scene tape and headed up the mountain after Laney Hanvey.

  * * *

  “I’M NOT GOING to be handled out of looking for my sister,” Laney growled as she heard footsteps catching up behind her on the hiking trail.

  “I’m just here to help.”

  She faltered to a stop, turning to look at Doyle Massey. He wasn’t exactly struggling to keep up with her—life on the beach had clearly kept him in pretty good shape. But he was out of his element.

  She’d grown up in these mountains. Her mother had always joked she was half mountain goat. She knew these hills as well as she knew her own soul. “You’ll slow me down.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  She glared at him, her rising terror looking for a target. “My sister is out here somewhere and I’m going to find her.”

  The look Doyle gave her was full of pity. The urge to slap that expression off his face was so strong she had to clench her hands. “You’re rushing off alone into the woods where a man with a gun has just committed a murder.”

  “A gun?” She couldn’t stop her gaze from slanting toward the crime scene. “She was shot?”

  “Two rounds to the back of the head.”

  She closed her eyes, the remains of the cucumber sandwich she’d eaten at Sequoyah House rising in her throat. She stumbled a few feet away from Doyle Massey and gave up fighting the nausea.

  After her stomach was empty, she crouched in the underbrush, battling dry heaves and giving in to the hot tears burning her eyes. The heat of Massey’s hand on her back was comforting, even though she was embarrassed by her display.

  “I will help you search,” he said in a low, gentle tone. “But I want you to take a minute to just breathe and think. Okay? I want you to think about your sister and where you think she’d go. Do you know?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth. Before she’d finished, Massey’s hand extended in front of her eyes, holding out a roll of breath mints.