Dark Hearts

by Sharon Sala

  * * *

  Will Porter was standing at Rita’s bedside when she took her last breath. Her family had been with him since sometime yesterday, and he was already as sick and tired of them as he had been of her. Thinking about what was still hanging over his head made him anxious. He’d been through so much, but it would be over soon.

  He stayed until the funeral director picked up Rita’s body, and then he got in his car and drove away. For the time being his in-laws were on their own.

  Eighteen

  It was midafternoon. The day was cool and clear on the mountain. Squirrels were scolding, and the birds that stayed through winter were strengthening their nests, preparing for the bitter days ahead.

  The killer was sitting at the prearranged meeting place with the money on the seat beside him and a handgun in his pocket. He had no doubt about the Ledbetter grandson showing up with the package, because the family obviously needed the money, but he needed what was in the package more. He had no appreciation for the way fall had colored the mountain or the clear blue sky. His eye was on the dashboard clock.

  When the time came and went, and fifteen minutes passed with no grandson in sight, his confidence began to fade. He was on the verge of true panic when he heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the mountain. At that point his heart started to pound. He felt his pocket to reassure himself that the pistol was still there as he watched an old green pickup emerging around the curve.

  At first he thought there was a rider with the driver and groaned. He was sick of having to keep getting rid of extra witnesses, but as the truck came closer, he realized he was wrong. It must have been a trick of the light or the reflection of a tree.

  The truck stopped within feet of where he’d parked. The driver got out carrying a package about the size of a large shoebox. He was a small, skinny man with long blond hair and a worn-out leather coat.

  The killer grabbed the sack of money as he got out and went to meet the man.

  “Well, I never thought I’d be seein’ you. Right, here’s your package,” the man said.

  The killer took the package and held out the sack. “Here’s your money.”

  The grandson took it with a smile, and when he did, the killer pulled the gun and shot him point-blank in the middle of his forehead.

  The sound echoed on the trail as the sack dropped at the dead man’s feet. Moses Ledbetter wasn’t going to heaven alone.

  The killer picked up the sack, now splattered with blood, and ran back to his car. The tires spun, spewing gravel as he drove away.

  * * *

  Lila Ledbetter clapped her hands over her ears when she heard the gunshot. It took everything she had not to scream, because she knew something was wrong. She got to her knees on the floor of the car, where her daddy had told her to hide, and poked her head up above the dashboard of her daddy’s truck. She was just able to see a man carrying away the package. She watched until he got in his car and drove away, then she jumped out of the truck. When she saw her daddy lying on the ground, she screamed.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” she cried, and then saw the hole in his forehead and the red blood staining his white-blond hair. In shock, she turned toward the mountain and started running.

  She ran and ran until her side was hurting and she’d cried out all her tears, then stopped, gasping for breath. There was still another mile before she reached the mailbox marking the road that led to home, so she started running again, screaming as she went.

  * * *

  It was the barking dogs that brought Bonnie Ledbetter out onto the porch. She thought they were barking because Jacob and Lila were coming home. But when she didn’t hear the engine straining up the slope, she stood with her hand in her apron pocket, trying to figure out what had sent the hounds into such a frenzy. In the midst of their howling she heard her daughter screaming and started running down the road to meet her.

  “Lila! Lila! What’s wrong? Where’s your daddy?”

  “He’s dead, he’s dead! The man shot him and drove away.”

  Bonnie Ledbetter gasped, and then pulled her daughter to her breasts.

  “Lord, Lord, I told him nothing good would come from that much money,” she moaned, and then grabbed the little girl’s hand and ran with her back to the house. “Go wash your face and dry your tears, girl. I’m gonna call the sheriff, and I need you to be ready to tell him everything you saw and heard. I won’t let your daddy die without justice for his soul.”

  * * *

  Sheriff Osmond was sharing the news with his deputy Wesley Rand, toasting the fact that the killer they’d been looking for was finally in jail, when the phone rang. He was in such a good mood that he answered it himself.

  “Hello, this is Sheriff Osmond.”

  “Sheriff, Sheriff! This is Bonnie Ledbetter. You gotta come quick. Someone murdered my husband, Jacob, where Pike Trail meets Lassiter’s Corner.”

  “Did anyone see who did it? Was anyone else hurt?” he asked as he was writing down information.

  “My daughter was there, but she hid and then ran home to get me. I’m about to go down there now to be with Jacob until y’all come to carry him away. Lord, Lord, I told him no good would come from delivering that package.”

  “What package?” the sheriff asked.

  “Something his grandpa Moses made before he accidentally blew himself up,” she said.

  “Blew himself up?”

  “Yes, Moses used to blast coal seams for Colquitt Mines up in Georgia. When he retired he came home to the mountains but never quit messing with explosives. After he passed, the family found a package on his kitchen table all wrapped up with a note that said there was one thousand dollars due on delivery, but there was no name on it, and no phone number to call. Then a man called about it yesterday, and Jacob took it down the mountain this afternoon to get the money. Now Jacob’s dead, the package is gone and Lila said the man took the money with him.”

  “Lila’s your daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s ten, and she’s all broke up about seeing her daddy die.”

  “Did she see the killer?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Okay, I’m contacting the coroner, and me and my deputies will be there as soon as we can. In the meantime, don’t touch anything, and don’t walk near the body, or disturb any footprints and tire tracks, understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Bonnie said, and then started to wail. “We buried Moses this morning. Now I’m gonna have to bury my Jacob, too. Why, Lord, why?”

  That was a question Sheriff Osmond couldn’t answer. As soon as he disconnected, he contacted dispatch.

  “Send a message to the coroner that I have a murder scene at Lassiter’s Corner on the Pike Trail above Mystic. We’re heading out there now. Oh, and dispatch any of my deputies who are free to the same location.”

  “Yes, sir,” the dispatcher said.

  The sheriff turned around. “Wesley, you’re riding with me. We have ourselves a murder, and I’m feeling uneasy about the whole mess.”

  “What do you mean?” Wesley said as they headed out the back to the parking lot.

  “A man skilled in bomb making blew himself up, and before he did that, he left a package in his house with a thousand dollars due on delivery. When the package was delivered, the deliveryman was killed. What does that say to you?”

  “That whatever was in that package was illegal and the buyer didn’t want to leave a witness,” Wesley said.

  Sheriff Osmond nodded. “And the man used to blast for Colquitt Mines in Georgia. So what are the odds that it was a bomb in that package?”

  “I wouldn’t bet against it,” the deputy said.

  “Now we have to worry about what that package is intended for,” the sheriff muttered. “Let’s go. We need to get up to the scene ASAP.”


  They were on the way to the cruiser when the sheriff’s phone rang. He tossed the keys to Wesley and got in on the passenger side so he could talk while they rode. “Hello?”

  “Sheriff Osmond, this is Trey Jakes.”

  The deputy took off out of town with the lights and siren blasting.

  Trey heard the noise but didn’t think anything of it. “We may have a problem, and I wanted you to be aware,” he said.

  “A problem with what? What’s going on?”

  “The main thing is, Marcus Silver admitted to killing Donny Collins, but he swears he had nothing to do with the other murders and offered to take a lie detector test to prove it. His lawyer just left. I have the whole statement filmed, signed and filed.”

  “What the hell do you make of that?” Osmond asked. “Do you believe him?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Damn it. Who else knows about the 1980 incident? Who could have used that to put the blame on Marcus and completely mask their own agenda?”

  “He swears no one knew about it. He said he never even talked about it aloud to himself. Beth Powell is the one who came forward and turned him in for the cheating scandal. She had her own reasons for not mentioning it at first. I’ll get a full report on all the updates and email it to you.”

  “Okay, but I still don’t understand why those three people were killed.”

  “Neither do I, but I just wanted you to know where we’re at right now. Don’t quit looking for answers. If anyone else happens to get murdered in the county, let me know.”

  “Like the guy I just got the call on, you mean?” Osmond said.

  Trey had been pacing as he talked, but that stopped him in his tracks. “Are you serious? You just got a call on another murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “An old man who used to blast for Colquitt Mines in Georgia accidentally blew himself up a few days ago.”

  “What does Georgia have to do with here? And how is that a murder?”

  “He didn’t die in Georgia. He died here, on the mountain above Mystic.” Then Osmond went on to explain about the note, the phone call and the delivery, and that the victim’s little girl had been there when it happened and might have seen the killer.

  “What did they say was in the package?” Trey asked.

  “They didn’t.”

  The hair suddenly stood up on the back of Trey’s neck. “Oh, shit. He built someone a bomb, didn’t he?”

  “As my deputy just said, I wouldn’t bet against it, and if Marcus Silver isn’t the person who committed the recent murders, then I would lay odds that your sister is still in danger.”

  “And she’s waking up, which is only increasing his need to silence her,” Trey said.

  “Has she said anything?” Osmond asked.

  Trey told him about the text they’d gotten from Lainey.

  “What are you going to do?” Osmond asked.

  “Since you just told me someone may be running around with an undetonated bomb, I’m about to put guards at every entrance to the hospital, and make sure they check everyone and everything going in and coming out.”

  “If I get any details from my witness, I’ll let you know,” the sheriff said.

  “And if Trina wakes up enough to tell us who she really saw, I’ll let you know, too.”

  “This is a true clusterfuck,” Sheriff Osmond said.

  “I have to agree,” Trey said, and disconnected on the run.

  * * *

  Sam reached Trina’s room and stopped to talk to Cain Embry, who was on guard today.

  “Hey, Sam, did you guys really get the killer?” Cain asked.

  “We have the guy who left the body in the mine, but it’s beginning to look like we may have more than one killer running around.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding,” Cain said.

  “I wish. Just to make sure, we want to keep a guard on Trina until we’re certain.”

  “Absolutely,” Cain said.

  Sam went into the room and saw Lee dozing in a chair next to Trina and Lainey asleep in a recliner. Trina was his baby sister, and Lainey was the love of his life. The fact that the two women who mattered most in his world were both injured and still healing gave him an unsettled feeling. He knew only too well how fleeting life could be, and he needed them healthy and well.

  He laid a hand gently on Lainey’s soft baby curls, then moved to his sister’s bedside and took her hand. When she stirred slightly, his hopes lifted. She was waking up. He so wanted this nightmare to be over for all of them, but for that to happen, she needed to wake up and talk to them.

  He stood for a few moments holding her hand, feeling the steady pulse at her wrist, and thought of what she was still facing. Even after she healed she was going to have to live with the memory of witnessing her own mother’s murder. Lee seemed like a good man, devoted to Trina. He hoped they made it as a couple, because she was going to need someone.

  He heard Lainey moan and then sigh. He turned and knelt down beside her.

  When she opened her eyes and saw him, she smiled.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Just tired, and I left my pain pills in my car. Would you run out and get them for me? They’re in the console, I think. Here are the keys.”

  Sam palmed the key ring and kissed the side of her cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes again.

  Sam stood up and was on his way out of the room when he felt his phone vibrate. He saw he had a text and went out into the hall to read it.

  There’s been another murder. Osmond is working it. On the way to hospital. Wait for me there.

  Sam stopped in midstep and then groaned.

  Cain heard him and stood up. “Something wrong?”

  Sam wouldn’t even say it out loud. He turned the phone toward Cain.

  “It’s not over, is it?” Cain asked.

  Sam shook his head and headed for the elevator. He was going to get those pain meds and get right back to Lainey.

  * * *

  Sheriff Osmond arrived on scene to find one of his deputies already roping off the area, and a grieving woman and child standing off to one side surrounded by a half-dozen armed men.

  “Who are all those people?” Osmond asked.

  “Mrs. Ledbetter, her daughter and her father and brothers. They don’t trust us to keep her safe.”

  Sheriff Osmond sighed. “What’s the crime scene look like?” he asked as the deputy tied off the yellow crime scene tape to a tree.

  “Shooter’s car parked there, waiting,” the deputy said, and pointed. “Victim stopped here to deliver the package. You can see footprints where the two men met to make the exchange. There’s one shot in the head. No scuffle. I’d say it was a surprise. Small footprints here. I don’t know where those are from.”

  “Probably his kid’s,” Osmond said.

  The deputy looked surprised.

  “She was with him. She hid and came out after the shooter left. He doesn’t know it, but he’s left a witness alive. We have to make damn sure he doesn’t find out about this one. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” the deputy said.

  “Have you searched Ledbetter’s truck?”

  “No, sir. The door was open like that when I drove up. I just started securing the scene.”

  “Good job. The coroner has been notified. The crime scene crew will come with him. I’m going to talk to my witness,” he said and walked over to the group. “Mrs. Ledbetter?”

  Bonnie Ledbetter’s eyes were swollen from crying, and the little girl standing beside her looked scared to death, but the men with them were hard-eyed, stone-faced mountain men who looked
ready to go to war.

  “Yes, I’m Bonnie Ledbetter. This is my daddy and my brothers, and this here is Lila. She saw her daddy get killed.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” Osmond said, and then turned to Bonnie’s father. “Gentlemen, I understand your concern, but I would feel better if you put your weapons up.”

  “No, sir. We’ll just wait here while you do your talkin’ to Lila and Bonnie, and then we’ll be escortin’ her home. And nothing personal, but just so y’all know, there will be full-time guards on her home until you get Jacob’s killer behind bars.”

  Sheriff Osmond saw the grief and anger in their eyes and understood. “Then, may we use the bed of your truck for them to sit in while we talk? You’re welcome to stand with her. All I’m going to do is take their statements.”

  The man nodded.

  Sheriff Osmond walked under the crime scene tape and took Bonnie’s elbow, then escorted her to a seat in the truck bed. One of the men lifted Lila up beside her mother, and the sheriff pulled out a recorder.

  “For the record, this is an interview with Bonnie Ledbetter, wife of the victim, Jacob Ledbetter, and their daughter, Lila. Lila was present at her father’s murder.” He held the recorder close to Lila. “Please state your name and age for the record, child.”

  The little girl’s blue eyes teared up again as she looked fearfully at her mother. Bonnie nodded.

  “My name is Lila Ledbetter. I am ten years old.”

  “Thank you, Lila. Now, in your own words, tell me what you saw when your father was shot.”

  Bonnie put her arm around her daughter for comfort.

  Lila began to talk.

  “I begged to come with Daddy. He said it might be serious business and I had to stay in the truck when we got to Lassiter’s Corner. We talked about Thanksgiving with Granny on the way here.”

  Her features crumpled as she looked up at her mother. “We won’t have any Thanksgiving at Granny’s now, will we, Mama?”