In Silence

by Erica Spindler

  The older woman stilled. She met Avery's eyes. "I don't feel well, Avery. Could you take me home?"

  Avery said she could and led Lilah to her sedan, parked on the other side of the square. After helping the woman into the front passenger seat, Avery went around to the driver's side, climbed in and started the vehicle up.

  The drive out to the ranch passed in silence. Lilah, Avery felt certain, possessed neither the want nor emotional wherewithal to converse. Avery pulled the sedan into the driveway and cut the engine. She went around the car, helped Lilah out, up the walk and into the house.

  At the sound of the door opening, Cherry appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked from her mother to Avery. "What happened?"

  "I'm all right," Lilah answered, an unmistakable edge in her voice. "Just tired."

  Cherry hurried down the stairs. She took her mother's arm. "Let me help you."

  "Please, don't fuss."

  "Mother-"

  "I don't want to talk about it." She eased her arm from her daughter's grasp. "I have a headache and…" She turned toward Avery. "You're an angel for bringing me home. I hope I didn't interfere with your plans."

  "Not at all, Lilah. I hope you feel better."

  "I need to lie down now. Excuse me."

  Cherry watched her mother make her way slowly up the stairs. When she had disappeared from view, she swung to face Avery, obviously distressed. "What happened?"

  "I don't know." Avery passed a hand over her face. "I was at the Azalea, in one of the window booths. I looked out and there was your mother and Hunter-"

  "Hunter!"

  "They were arguing."

  Her expression tightened. "Son of a… Why won't he leave her alone? Why won't he just go away?"

  Avery didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Cherry shook with fury. She strode to the entryway table, yanked up the top right drawer and dug out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Her hands shook as she lit the smoke. She crossed to the front door, opened it and stood in the doorway, smoking in silence.

  After several drags, she turned back to Avery. "What were they arguing about?"

  "That I don't know. She wouldn't say."

  Cherry blew out a long stream of smoke. "What did she say?"

  "That she had made a mess of her life. Of her children's lives. That everything was her fault."

  Cherry squeezed her eyes shut.

  "I told her it wasn't true," Avery continued. "I told her Hunter's problems were his own."

  "But she didn't believe it."

  "Actually, it seemed to calm her."

  "Hallelujah." Cherry moved out onto the porch, stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray hidden under a step, then returned to the foyer. "There's a first."

  "I take it this has happened before."

  "Oh, yeah. He hadn't been back in Cypress Springs twenty-four hours before he started shoveling his shit her way. All of our way, actually. You wouldn't believe some of the things he said. The things he accused us of."

  Cherry sighed. "It doesn't matter how well Matt and I are doing, all she can focus on is Hunter and his troubles. And somehow it's all her fault."

  What happened to him, Cherry? Hunter used to be so…kind. And funny."

  She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. None of us do."

  "It began that summer, didn't it? That summer Sallie Waguespack was killed."

  Cherry looked sharply at her. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because it was that summer he and Matt started fighting. Just after they'd gotten their driver's licenses." She paused. "It's when Hunter seemed to…change."

  Cherry didn't comment; Avery filled the silence. "I wouldn't have thought of it except for all the clippings I found in Dad's closet." She quickly explained how she had found the box, sorted through it then questioned Buddy about the contents. "Truthfully, I'd forgotten the incident."

  "Why do you think one had anything to do with the other?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Why do you think that murder has anything to do with Hunter?"

  Avery blinked, surprised by the other woman's assumption. "I didn't. I was just placing it in a time frame."

  Cherry rubbed the spot between her eyes with her thumb, in obvious discomfort. "I was just a kid, I hardly remember it all. But it was…a time of upheaval. Everybody was upset. All the time, it seemed."

  She dropped her hand and met Avery's eyes. "For whatever reason, Hunter's changed. He's not one of us anymore. As much as it hurts me to admit, I can't imagine what it does to Matt. They're twins, for God's sake. Once they were as close as two people could be."

  Cherry shivered slightly and closed the door. "To his credit, Matt's gone on. So have Daddy and I. But Mother can't seem to…let go." She paused. "It's been much worse since Hunter came back to Cypress Springs. Before, we could forget, you know? Out of sight, out of mind. Even Mom. I think she consoled herself with his professional success."

  Out of sight, out of mind. Avery understood. In a way, she had done that with her father. She had told herself he was happy, that he had a nice comfortable life. Now she had to live with just how wrong she'd been.

  "Then home he came," Cherry continued, "with a shitload of bad attitude and so many chips on his shoulder it's amazing he can walk upright."

  "Why, Cherry? The other night your dad said Hunter almost lost his license to practice law. Do you know what happened?"

  "Yeah, I know. He had it all and he blew it. That's what happened. Professional success. Money, brains. A family who loved him. And he's blown it all to hell.

  "You know what he's doing?" she asked. "The man's gone from practicing corporate law at one of the top firms in the South to taking the odd divorce and bankruptcy case in Cypress Springs. I don't get it. He's working and living down in what used to be Barker's Flower Shop, one block off the square. At the corner of Walton and Johnson. Remember it?"

  Avery indicated she did.

  "You already know what I really think about why he came back to Cypress Springs." She didn't wait for Avery to reply. "He's come back to hurt us. To punish us for some imagined sin or slight against him."

  Cherry glanced toward the stairway thinking, Avery knew, of her mother. "And what's really sad is, he's succeeding."

  CHAPTER 9

  Avery left the ranch a short time later. Cherry told her to go ahead and take her mother's car-after one of these spells her mother didn't go out for days anyway.

  As she drove through town, Avery couldn't stop thinking about what Cherry had said. About Hunter coming back to punish them. She'd dismissed Cherry's earlier claim, but now Avery couldn't put the image of Lilah's devastation out of her mind.

  And the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. How could Hunter treat his family that way? All they had ever done was love and support him.

  She didn't care if she had been gone for twelve years, she wasn't going to let him get away with it. The Stevenses were the closest thing to a family she had left, and she wasn't about to stand back | and let Hunter hurt them.

  She reached Walton Street, took a left, heading back toward Johnson. She found a parking spot a couple doors down from what had been Barker's Flower Shop. She angled into the spot and climbed out.

  Barker's had been Cypress Springs's preferred florist during Avery's high-school years. Every corsage she'd worn had come from this shop.

  And they'd all been from Matt, she realized. Every last one of them.

  She reached the shop and felt a moment of loss at the empty front window. She used to love peering through at the buckets of cut flowers.

  She tried the door. And found it locked. A cardboard clock face propped in the window proclaimed Will Return At-

  Problem was the clock's hour hand was missing.

  Cherry had said that Hunter used the front of the shop as his law office and lived in the back. If she remembered correctly, the Barkers had done the same. No doubt, the residence was accessed from the rear.

  She went around back,
to the service alley. Sure enough, the rear had been set up as a residential entrance.

  She crossed to it and found the outer door stood open to allow fresh air in through the screen. She knocked on the door frame. "Hunter?" she called out. "It's Avery."

  From inside came a scuffling, followed by a whimper. She frowned and knocked again. "Hunter? Is that you?"

  The whimpering came again. She leaned closer and peered through the dirty screen. The room immediately beyond the door was a kitchen. It appeared empty.

  From inside came a thud. Like something hitting the floor.

  Something? Or someone?

  Reacting, she tried the screen door, found it unlocked and pushed it open. She stepped through. Save for a handful of dishes in the sink, the kitchen was as neat as a pin.

  Heart pounding, she made her way through the room. "Hunter?" she called again, softly. "It's Avery. Are you all right?"

  This time, silence answered. No whimper, whine or scuffle.

  Not good. She rushed through the doorway to the next room and stopped short. The biggest, mangiest dog she had ever seen blocked her way, teeth barred. The beast growled low in its throat and Avery's stomach dropped to her toes.

  She took a step back.

  Whimpering from behind the dog drew her gaze. On a blanket shoved into the corner lay a half-dozen squirming pups, so young their eyes weren't open yet.

  "It's okay, girl," Avery said gently, returning her gaze to the mama. "I won't hurt your pups."

  The dog cocked its head as if deciding if Avery could be trusted, then turned and loped back to her babies. She flopped onto her side on the floor and the pups began rooting for a teat. With a heavy sigh, she thumped her tail-which was as thick as a broom handle-once against the wooden floor.

  Avery shook her head, feeling more than a little ridiculous. What an imagination she had. Big bad Avery, rushing in to save the day.

  She turned away from the nursing dog to take in the room. Neat but spartan, she thought. A shabby but comfortable mishmash of furniture and styles. An ancient-looking couch in a shade that had probably once been a bright gold, but could now only be described as vomit colored. A beat-up coffee table. And a beautiful, butter-colored leather easy chair.

  Left over from the good old days, she would bet. The piece he hadn't been able to get rid of.

  She turned. A makeshift desk and file cabinet had been set up in the corner behind her. A computer rested atop the desk, screen dark. Beside the PC sat a stack of printer paper, a couple inches thick.

  Curious, she crossed to the desk. A manuscript, she saw. She tipped her head to read. Breaking Point. A novel by Hunter Stevens.

  Hunter was writing a novel? Why hadn't Matt or Cherry mentioned it?

  Maybe they didn't-

  "Come right in," Hunter said from behind her. "Make yourself at home."

  Avery whirled around, hand to her throat. "Hunter!"

  "You sound so surprised to see me. Were you expecting someone else?"

  "This isn't how it looks. I didn't mean to-"

  "To what?" he asked. "Break and enter?"

  Cheeks burning, she tilted up her chin. "It wasn't like that. I can explain."

  "Sure you can." He stalked past her, retrieved the manuscript and placed it in a file drawer. Avery noticed the way he handled the pages-carefully, with something akin to reverence.

  "I didn't read anything but the title," she said softly. "And I didn't break in. The door was open."

  He locked the drawer, pocketed the key then turned and faced her, arms folded across his chest. "How careless of me."

  "I stopped by. And I heard a sound from inside. A…cry, then a thud. Like someone…falling. I thought you-"

  At his disbelieving expression, she made a sound of frustration. "It was the dog and her pups I heard. I thought, you know, that something was wrong."

  "Sarah?" He glanced over at the dog. At the sound of her name, the canine looked up and slapped her tail against the floor.

  "See?" Avery said. "That's what I heard."

  He smiled then, taking her by surprise. "You're right, that is a scary noise. Did you think the boogeyman had gotten me? Was big bad Avery going to rush in and save the day?"

  The curving of his lips changed him into the young man she remembered from all those years ago and she returned his smile. Why not? It could happen. I carry pepper spray. Besides, if you recall, I'm not one of those prissy, sissy girls like you dated in high school. Hunter," she mocked in an exaggerated drawl, "you're so big and strong. I don't know what I would do without you to protect me."

  He laughed. "True, I would never call you prissy."

  "Thank you for that."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "For the other night. I acted like an ass."

  "A bastard and an ass, actually. Apology accepted anyway."

  The dog stood, shook off a last greedy pup and ambled over to Hunter. She looked adoringly up at him. He squatted beside her and scratched behind her ears. She practically swooned with delight. Avery watched the two, thinking Hunter couldn't be quite as heartless as he acted. "She seems devoted to you."

  "It's mutual. I found her when she was as down and out on her luck as I was. Figured we made a good pair."

  Silence fell between them. Avery longed to ask about the circumstances that had brought him to this place, but didn't want to spoil the moment of camaraderie.

  She chose a safer topic instead, motioning the computer. "Your family didn't mention that you were writing a novel."

  "They don't know. No one does. Unless like you, they make a habit of breaking and entering." He straightened. Sarah remained by his feet. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them."

  "If that's what you want. But I'm sure if they knew they'd be nothing but supporti-"

  "It is what I want."

  "All right." She tilted her head. "The book, what's it about?"

  "It's a thriller." He didn't blink. "About a lawyer who goes off the deep end."

  "It's autobiographical then?"

  "What are you doing here, Avery?"

  She decided that beating around the bush would be a waste of time. "I want to talk to you about your mother."

  "There's a shock."

  She stiffened at his sarcasm. "I saw the two of you this morning. Arguing. She was really upset, Hunter. Hysterical, actually." He didn't respond. Not with surprise or remorse. Not with concern or guilt. His impassive expression made her blood boil. "You don't have a comment about that?"

  "No."

  "She couldn't even drive, Hunter. I had to take her home."

  "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry?"

  "For starters."

  "That's not happening. Anything else?"

  She stared at him, stunned. That he could be so unfeeling toward his mother. So careless toward those who loved him.

  She told him so and he laughed. "That's rich. The pot calling the kettle black."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You know damn well what it means. Where have you been the last few years, Avery?"

  She saw what he was doing and backed off, not about to let him divert the conversation. "We're not talking about me here, Hunter. We're talking about you. About you blaming everyone but yourself for your problems. Why don't you grow up?"

  "Why don't you butt out, Ms. Big-City Reporter? Head back to your important job. Your life isn't here. It never was."

  Stung, she struck back. "You're lucky you have such a great family. A family who loves you. One willing to stick by you even when you're such a colossal jackass. Why don't you show a little gratitude?"

  "Gratitude?" He laughed, the sound hard. "Great family? For an investigative reporter you're pretty damn obtuse."

  She shook her head, disbelieving. "No family is perfect. But at least they've stayed committed to one another. They've tried to be there for one another, through thick and thin."

  "When did you become such an expert on my family? You've only been here, what? A
week? Wait!" He brought his fingertips to his forehead. "I've got it! You're psychic?"

  "It's senseless to even try to have a conversation with you." She started toward the door. "I'm out of here."

  "Of course you are. That's your MO, isn't it, Avery?"

  She froze, then turned slowly to face him. "Excuse me?"

  "Where have you been the past twelve years?"

  "In case you haven't noticed, Cypress Springs isn't exactly the place to have a career in journalism."

  He took a step toward her. "You're a fine one to scold me about how I treat my mother. Look at how you treated yours. How many times did you visit her after you moved away?"

  "I called. I visited when I could. I couldn't just take off whenever the mood struck."

  "How long did you stay after her funeral, Avery? Twenty-four hours? Or was it thirty-six?"

  She swung toward the door; he followed her, grabbing her arm when she reached it. "And where were you, Avery, when your dad was so depressed he set himself on fire?"

  A cry spilled past her lips. She tugged against his hand. He tightened his grip. "Your dad needed you. And you weren't here."

  "What do you know about my father! About how he felt or what he needed!"

  "I know more than you could imagine." He released her and she stumbled backward. "I bet you didn't know that your dad and mine weren't even on speaking terms. That it had gotten so bad between them that if one saw the other coming on the street, he would cross to the other side to avoid making eye contact. I bet neither Matt nor Buddy told you that."

  "Stop it, Hunter." She backed toward the door.

  "I bet they didn't tell you that my parents haven't shared a bed in over a decade. Or that Mom's addicted to painkillers and booze." He laughed bitterly. "Dad's played the part of the jovial, small-town cop so long, he wouldn't recognize an authentic thought or feeling if it shouted his name. Matt's trying his damnedest to follow in the old man's footsteps and is so deeply in denial it's frightening. And Cherry, poor girl, has sacrificed her life to holding the dysfunctional lot together.

  "Great family," he finished. "As American as apple pie and Prozac."