In Silence

by Erica Spindler

  Avery and Matt reached the garage. She steeled herself for what would come next. She understood how gruesome death by fire was. Matt led her to the side door. Opened it. They stepped into the building. The smell crashed over her. As did the stark reality of her father's last minutes. She imagined his screams as the flames en-gulfed him. As his skin began to melt. Avery brought a hand to her mouth, her gaze going to the large char mark on the concrete floor-the spot where her father had burned alive.

  His suicide had been an act of not only despair but self-hatred as well.

  She began to tremble. Her head grew light, her knees weak. Turning, she ran outside, to the azalea bushes with their burgeoning blossoms. She doubled over, struggling not to throw up. Not to fall apart.

  Matt came up behind her. He laid a hand on her back.

  Avery squeezed her eyes shut. "How could he do it, Matt?" She looked over her shoulder at him, vision blurred by tears. "It's bad enough that he took his own life, but to do it like that? The pain…it would have been excruciating."

  "I don't know what to say," he murmured, tone gentle. "I don't have any answers for you. I wish I did."

  She straightened, mustering anger. Denial. "My father loved life. He valued it. He was a doctor, for God's sake. He'd devoted his life to preserving it."

  At Mart's silence, she lashed out. "He was proud of himself and the choices he'd made. Proud of how he had lived. The man who did that hated himself. That wasn't my dad." She said it again, tone taking on a desperate edge. "It wasn't, Matt."

  "Avery, you haven't been-" He bit the words off and shifted his gaze, expression uncomfortable.

  "What, Matt? I haven't been what?"

  "Around a lot lately." He must have read the effect of his words in her expression and he caught her hands and held them tightly. "Your dad hadn't been himself for a while. He'd withdrawn, from everybody. Stayed in his house for days. When he went out he didn't speak. Would cross to the other side of the street to avoid conversation."

  How could she not have known? "When?" she asked, hurting. "When did this start?"

  "I suppose about the time he gave up his practice."

  Just after her mother's death.

  "Why didn't somebody call me? Why didn't-" She bit the words back and pressed her trembling lips together.

  He squeezed her fingers. "It wasn't an overnight thing. At first he just seemed preoccupied. Or like he needed time to grieve. On his own. It wasn't until recently that people began to talk."

  Avery turned her gaze to her father's overgrown garden. No wonder, she thought.

  "I'm sorry, Avery. We all are."

  She swung away from her old friend, working to hold on to her anger. Fighting tears.

  She lost the battle.

  "Aw, Avery. Geez." Matt went to her, drew her into his arms, against his chest. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder, crying like a baby.

  He held her awkwardly. Stiffly. Every so often he patted her shoulder and murmured something comforting, though through her sobs she couldn't make out what.

  The intensity of her tears lessened, then stopped. She drew away from him, embarrassed. "Sorry about that. It's…I thought I could handle it."

  "Cut yourself some slack, Avery. Frankly, if you could handle it, I'd be a little worried about you."

  Tears flooded her eyes once more and she brought her hand to her nose. "I need a tissue. Excuse me."

  She headed toward her car, aware of him following. There, she rummaged in her purse, coming up with a rumpled Kleenex. She blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes, then faced him once more. "How could I not have known how bad off he was? Am I that self-involved?"

  "None of us knew," he said gently. "And we saw him every day."

  "But I was his daughter. I should have been able to tell, should have heard it in his voice. In what he said. Or didn't say."

  "It's not your fault, Avery."

  "No?" She realized her hands were shaking and slipped them into her pockets. "But I can't help wondering, if I had stayed in Cypress Springs, would he be alive today? If I'd given up my career and stayed after Mom's death, would he have staved off the depression that caused him to do…this? If I had simply picked up the pho-"

  She swallowed the words, unable to speak them aloud. She met his gaze. "It hurts so much."

  "Don't do this to yourself. You can't go back."

  "I can't, can I?" She winced at the bitterness in her voice. "I loved my dad more than anyone in the world, yet I only came home a handful of times in all the years since college. Even after Mom died so suddenly and so horribly, leaving so much unresolved between us. That should have been a wake-up call, but it wasn't."

  He didn't respond and she continued. "I've got to live with that, don't I?"

  "No," he corrected. "You have to learn from it. It's where you go from here that counts now. Not where you've been."

  A group of teenagers barreled by in a pickup truck, their raucous laughter interrupting the charged moment. The pickup was followed by another group of teenagers, these in a bright-yellow convertible, top down.

  Avery glanced at her watch. Three-thirty. The high school let out the same time as it had all those years ago.

  Funny how some things could change so dramatically and others not at all.

  "I should get back to work. You going to be okay?"

  She nodded. "Thanks for baby-sitting me."

  "No thanks necessary." He started for the car, then stopped and looked back at her. "I almost forgot, Mom and Dad are expecting you for dinner tonight."

  "Tonight? But I just got in."

  "Exactly. No way are Mom and Dad going to let you spend your first night home alone."

  "But-"

  "You're not in the big city anymore, Avery. Here, people take care of each other. Besides, you're family." Home. Family. At that moment nothing sounded better than that. "I'll be there. They still live at the ranch?" she asked, using the nickname they had given the Stevenses' sprawling ranch-style home.

  Of course. Status quo is something you can count on in Cypress Springs." He crossed to his vehicle, opened the door and looked back at her. "Is six too early?" "It' ll be perfect."

  Great." He climbed into the cruiser, started it and began back-ing up. Halfway down the driveway he stopped and lowered his window. "Hunter's back home," he called. "I thought you might want to know."

  Avery stood rooted to the spot even after Matt's cruiser disappeared from sight. Hunter? she thought, disbelieving. Matt's fraternal twin brother and the third member of their triumvirate. Back in Cypress Springs? Last she'd heard, he'd been a partner at a prestigious New Orleans law firm.

  Avery turned away from the road and toward her childhood home. Something had happened the summer she'd been fifteen, Hunter and Matt sixteen. A rift had grown between the brothers. Hunter had become increasingly aloof, angry. He and Matt had fought often and several times violently. The Stevenses' house, which had always been a haven of warmth, laughter and love, had become a battleground. As if the animosity between the brothers had spilled over into all the family relationships…

  At first Avery had been certain the bad feelings between the brothers would pass. They hadn't. Hunter had left for college and never returned-not even for holidays.

  Now he, like she, had come home to Cypress Springs. Odd, she thought. A weird coincidence. Perhaps tonight she would discover what had brought him back.

  CHAPTER 2

  At six sharp, Avery pulled up in front of the Stevenses' house. Buddy Stevens, sitting on the front porch smoking a cigar, caught sight of her and lumbered to his feet. "There's my girl!" he bellowed. "Home safe and sound!"

  She hurried up the walk and was enfolded in his arms. A mountain of a man with a barrel chest and booming voice, he had been Cypress Springs's chief of police for as long as she could remember. Although a by-the-books lawman who had as much give as a concrete block when it came to his town and crime, the Buddy Stevens she knew was just a big ol' teddy b
ear. A hard-ass with a soft, squishy center and a heart of gold.

  He hugged her tightly, then held her at arm's length. He searched her gaze, his own filled with regret. "I'm sorry, baby girl. Damn sorry."

  A lump formed in her throat. She cleared it with difficulty. "I know, Buddy. I'm sorry, too." He hugged her again. "You're too thin. And you look tired."

  She drew away, filled with affection for the man who had been nearly as important to her growing up as her own father. "Haven't you heard? A woman can't be too thin."

  "Big-city crapola." He put out the stogie and led her inside, arm firmly around her shoulder. "Lilah!" he called. "Cherry! Look who the cat's dragged in."

  Cherry, Matt and Hunter's younger sister, appeared at the kitchen door. The awkward-looking twelve-year-old girl had grown into an uncommonly beautiful woman. Tall, with dark hair and eyes like her brothers, she had inherited her mother's elegant features and pretty skin.

  When she saw Avery she burst into a huge smile. "You made it. We've been worried sick." She crossed to Avery and hugged her. "That's no kind of a trip for a woman to make alone."

  Such an unenlightened comment coming from a woman in her twenties took Avery aback. But as Matt had said earlier, she wasn't in the city anymore.

  She hugged her back. "It wasn't so bad. Cab to Dullas, nonstop flight to New Orleans, a rental car here. The most harrowing part was retrieving my luggage."

  "Big, tough career girl," Buddy murmured, sounding anything but pleased. "I hope you had a cell phone."

  "Of course. Fully charged at all times." She grinned up at him. "And, you'll be happy to know, pepper spray in my purse."

  "Pepper spray? Whatever for?" This came from Lilah Stevens.

  "Self-protection, Mama," Cherry supplied, glancing over her shoulder at the older woman.

  Lilah, still as trim and attractive as Avery remembered, crossed from the kitchen and caught Avery's hands. "Self-protection? Well, you won't be needing that here." She searched Avery's gaze. "Avery, sweetheart. Welcome home. How are you?"

  Avery squeezed the other woman's hands, tears pricking her eyes. "I've been better, thanks."

  "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Sorrier than I can express."

  "I know. And that means a lot."

  From the other room came the sound of a timer going off. Lilah released Avery's hands. "That's the pie."

  The smells emanating from the kitchen were heavenly. Lilah Stevens had been the best cook in the parish and had consistently won baking prizes at the parish fair. Growing up, Avery had angled for a dinner invitation at every opportunity. "What kind of pie?" she asked.

  "Strawberry. I know peach is your favorite but it's impossible to find a decent peach this time of year. And the first Louisiana berries are in. And delicious, I might add."

  "Silly woman," Buddy interrupted. "The poor child is exhausted. Stop your yapping about produce and let the girl sit down."

  "Yapping?" She wagged a finger at him. "If you want pie, Mr. Stevens, you'll have to get yourself down to the Azalea Cafe."

  He immediately looked contrite. "Sorry, sugar-sweet, you know I was just teasing."

  "Now I'm sugar-sweet, am I?" She rolled her eyes and turned back to Avery. "You see what I've put up with all these years?"

  Avery laughed. She used to wish her parents could be more like Lilah and Buddy, openly affectionate and teasing. In all the years she had known the couple, all the time she had spent around their home, she had never heard them raise their voices at one another. And when they'd teased each other, like just now, their love and respect had always shown through.

  In truth, Avery had often wished her mother could be more like Lilah. Good-natured, outgoing. A traditional woman comfortable in her own skin. One who had enjoyed her children, making a home for them and her husband.

  It had seemed to Avery that her mother had enjoyed neither, though she had never said so aloud. Avery had sensed her mother's frustration, her dissatisfaction with her place in the world.

  No, Avery thought, that wasn't quite right. She had been frustrated by her only child's tomboyish ways and defiant streak. She had been disappointed in her daughter's likes and dislikes, the choices she made.

  In her mother's eyes, Avery hadn't measured up. Lilah Stevens had never made Avery feel she lacked anything. To the contrary, Lilah had made her feel not only worthy but special as well.

  "I do see," Avery agreed, playing along. "It's outrageous."

  "That it is." Lilah waved them toward the living room. "Matt should be here any moment. All I have left to do is whip the potatoes and heat the French bread. Then we can eat."

  "Can I help?" Avery asked.

  As she had known it would be, the woman's answer was a definitive no. Buddy and Cherry led her to the living room. Avery sank onto the overstuffed couch, acknowledging exhaustion. She wished she could lean her head back, close her eyes and sleep for a week.

  "You've barely changed," Buddy said softly, tone wistful. "Same pretty, bright-eyed girl you were the day you left Cypress Springs." She'd been so damn young back then. So ridiculously naive. She had yearned for something bigger than Cypress Springs, something better. Had sensed something important waited for her outside this small town. She supposed she had found it: a prestigious job; writing awards and professional respect; an enviable salary.

  What was it all worth now? If those twelve years hadn't been, if all her choices still lay before her, what would she do differently? Everything. Anything to have him with her. She met Buddy's eyes. "You'd be surprised how much I've changed." She lightened her words with a smile. "What about you? Besides being as devastatingly handsome as ever, still the most feared and respected lawman in the parish?"

  "I don't know about that," he murmured. "Seems to me, these days that honor belongs to Matt."

  "West Feliciana Parish's sheriff is retiring next year," Cherry chimed in. "Mart's planning to run for the job." There was no mistaking the pride in her voice. "Those in the know expect him to win the election by a landslide."

  Buddy nodded, looking as pleased as punch. "My son, the parish's top cop. Imagine that."

  "A regular crime-fighting family dynasty," Avery murmured. "Not for long." Buddy settled into his easy chair. "Retirement's right around the corner. Probably should have retired already. If I'd had a grandchild to spoil, I-"

  "Dad," Cherry warned, "don't go there."

  "Three children," he groused, "all disappointments. Friends of mine have a half-dozen of the little critters already. I don't think that's right." He looked at Avery. "Do you?"

  Avery held up her hands, laughing. "Oh, no, I'm not getting involved in this one."

  Cherry mouthed a "Thank you," Buddy pouted and Avery changed the subject. "I can't imagine you not being the chief of police. Cypress Springs won't be the same."

  "Comes a time one generation needs to make room for the next. Much as I hate the thought, my time has come and gone."

  With a derisive snort, Cherry started toward the kitchen. "I'm having a glass of wine. Want one, Avery?"

  "Love one."

  "Red or white?"

  "Whatever you're having." Avery let out a long breath and leaned her head against the sofa back, tension easing from her. She closed her eyes. Images played on the backs of her eyelids, ones from her past: her, Matt and Hunter playing while their parents barbecued in the backyard. Buddy and Lilah snapping pictures as she and Matt headed off to the prom. The two families caroling at Christmastime.

  Sweet memories. Comforting ones.

  "Good to be back, isn't it?" Buddy murmured as if reading her thoughts.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Despite everything, yes." She glanced away a moment, then back. "I wish I'd come home sooner. After Mom… I should have stayed. If I had-"

  The unfinished thought hung heavily between them anyway. If she had, maybe her dad would he alive today.

  Cherry returned with the wine. She crossed to Avery; handed her a glass of the pale gold liquid. "W
hat are your plans?"

  "First order of business is a service for Dad. I called Danny Gallagher this afternoon. We're meeting tomorrow after lunch."

  "How long are you staying?" Cherry sat on the other end of the couch, curling her legs under her.

  "I took a leave of absence from the Post, because I just don't know," she answered honestly. "I haven't a clue how long it will take to go through Dad's things, get the house ready to sell."

  "Sorry I'm late."

  At Matt's voice, Avery looked up. He stood in the doorway to the living room, head cocked as he gazed at her, expression amused. He'd exchanged his uniform for blue jeans and a soft chambray shirt. He held a bouquet of fresh flowers.

  "Brought Mom some posies," he said. "She in the kitchen?"

  "You know Mom." Cherry crossed to him and kissed his cheek. "Dad's already complained about the dearth of grandchildren around here. Remind me to be late next time."

  Matt met Avery's eyes and grinned. "Glad I missed it. Though I'll no doubt catch the rerun later."

  Buddy scowled at his two children. "No grandbabies and no respect." He looked toward the kitchen. "Lilah," he bellowed, "where did we go wrong with these kids?"

  Lilah poked her head out of the kitchen. "For heaven's sake, Buddy, leave the children alone." She turned her attention to her son. "Hello, Matt. Are those for the table?"

  "Yes, ma'am." He ambled across to her, kissed her cheek and handed her the flowers. "Something smells awfully good."

  "Come, help me with the roast." She turned to her daughter. "Cherry, could you put these in a vase for me?"

  Avery watched the exchange. She could have been a part of this family. Officially a part. Everyone had expected her and Matt to marry.

  Buddy interrupted her thoughts. "Have you considered staying?" he asked. "This is your home, Avery. You belong here."

  She dragged her gaze back to his, uncertain how to answer. Yes, she had come home to take care of specific family business, but less specifically, she had come for answers. For peace of mind- not only about her father's death, but about her own life.

  Truth was, she had been drifting for a while now, neither happy nor unhappy. Vaguely dissatisfied but uncertain why.