Sawmill Springs

by Gerri Hill

  “Have you asked him?”

  “I asked enough questions to know he ain’t going to tell me anything. I saw him and Lance Foster coming out of the bank one day a couple of weeks ago. Didn’t occur to me at the time that it was anything more than an accidental meeting. But now, the more I think about it, they were in a serious discussion. It ended in a handshake.” He stood up and paced across the room. “Now you know Ned as well as I do. Him and Lance never did see eye to eye. Why, when they were in high school, they couldn’t stand the sight of one another. I should have known something was up right then. I asked him about it. He told me to mind my own goddamn business.”

  “So maybe we should try to call him.”

  “I already did. He ain’t answering his cell. I called Charlotte. She said he was in the shower and she’d have him call me back.” He looked at his watch. “That was a couple of hours ago.”

  “So let’s go out to the plant first thing in the morning,” she suggested.

  “If anybody’s going to question Ned, it’ll be me, not you two,” he said loudly.

  “It won’t be you,” she contradicted. “At least not alone.”

  He wanted to protest, she could tell, but he nodded as he blew out a heavy breath. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just…well, hell; you know how this town is. People find out we’re questioning Ned, questioning Billy N, hell, it’ll be all over town within an hour.”

  “Why’s he called Billy N?”

  “Floyd William Niemeyer,” he said. “He and Billy Grable were in the same grade in school. Still can’t believe that fool got elected mayor.” He glanced over at Murphy. “I don’t mean to be so gruff with you. I know you’re plenty competent. So is my daughter. But this thing with Ned’s got me worried.”

  Murphy shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, but said nothing.

  “Pie’s ready,” her mother called from the other room.

  Kayla knew she’d most likely heard every word they’d said. As loud as they’d been talking to each other, she was surprised that her mother hadn’t come in to intervene. Of course, her mother was used to them arguing. It was a common occurrence when she’d lived at home.

  “I think I’m going to have to pass on the pie,” Murphy said. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

  Kayla wondered if she was lying and was just anxious to get out of there. There was enough tension in the room to fill it.

  “I’ll walk you out,” she offered.

  Murphy nodded. “Let me say goodbye to your mother.”

  As soon as Murphy walked out, her father turned to her. “You think I need to apologize, don’t you?”

  “To me or to Murphy?”

  “Well, I ain’t going to apologize. You just need to keep in mind that I am still the boss around here.”

  “That’s fine. You need to keep in mind that Murphy and I know right from wrong. And you, of all people, should know that you questioning Ned without a witness present is asking for trouble. You can’t let this get personal.”

  He didn’t comment on her statement, which meant that he knew it was the truth. Instead, he motioned to the door. “Now, you want to tell me why you feel the need to walk her out?”

  Kayla smiled. “Well, it’s the polite thing to do. Besides, she’s pretty cute,” she said as she wiggled her eyebrows. “You should have warned me that she was attractive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Murphy leaned against her truck, her gaze drawn to the Dixon house.

  “I noticed that she gave you a piece of pie.”

  “She did. She said I was too skinny.”

  “She thinks everyone is too skinny. But since you don’t cook, what do you eat?”

  “I eat a lot of sandwiches,” she said.

  “Sandwiches? Like bologna and white bread?”

  Murphy shook her head. “No, no. I buy different kinds of fancy bread in the bakery. Toast it sometimes; sometimes not. Lots of different veggies too. I usually have turkey, sometimes roasted chicken.” She held her hands about a foot apart. “They’re huge.”

  “So like Subway but at home.”

  “Yeah.”

  Kayla leaned beside her against the truck. “So why did you leave Houston?”

  “Why did you leave the FBI?” she countered.

  “I asked first.”

  “So why don’t you tell first.”

  Kayla sighed. “It’s no big deal, really. I was ready for a change. Past ready.” She shifted beside her. “I was in a relationship with another agent. And it became too…complicated,” Kayla said. “It didn’t work out and things were horribly stressful.”

  “Were you partners?”

  “No, thankfully. But that’s not the sole reason I wanted out. I told you before; I was ready for things to slow down. Coming back home seemed like the logical thing to do. I missed my family, I missed walking into stores and greeting people by name. I missed the family get-togethers and cookouts and a bonfire on a cool fall evening out in the woods.” She turned to her. “I missed all those slow things, you know. I always felt like I was in a race. A race against time, as they say, but it’s so true.” The wind blew Kayla’s hair and Murphy stared as she tucked it behind her ears. “Honestly, I was exhausted. Mentally. Physically. And when the affair ended…well, things at work were, well, like I said, horribly stressful. I needed a change.”

  “So you quit and came home?”

  “I didn’t quit right away, no. I managed another seven months, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I just kinda felt disconnected from the whole thing. I knew it was time to get out. And I knew my dad had a spot for me, so I thought, what the hell, just do it.”

  “So you missed Sawmill Springs that much, huh?”

  Kayla smiled. “I did. I even missed high school football games.” She elbowed her playfully. “I love football, by the way.”

  “You do, huh. Cowboys fan, no doubt.”

  “Absolutely. What? You’re not?”

  “I’m from Houston.”

  “Oh, God. Texans? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well, maybe this season we can watch games together. I may be able to tolerate the Texans for a game or two.”

  “And I may be able to tolerate the arrogance of the Cowboys.”

  Kayla laughed. “Well, they are America’s team, you know.” She shoved off the truck. “I should let you get going. See you at what? About eight?”

  “Maybe we should get there earlier and make sure your dad doesn’t take off without us.”

  “Good idea.” Kayla touched her arm lightly. “Goodnight, Murphy.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Murphy watched her walk up the sidewalk and onto the porch, the light illuminating her face as she turned to wave. Murphy got inside her truck, pausing to run her hand over the dash. She’d bought the truck—brand new—when she left Houston. It was the first new vehicle she’d ever owned. It was also the first truck. Her thought was, moving to a small town where trucks outnumbered cars two to one, she’d be much more likely to fit in. Her previous car, a very fast, red Camaro, wouldn’t exactly help her fade into the background, which was just what she wanted to do. So, the white Ford F150 was her choice. She didn’t skimp on the inside though. It was fully loaded with leather seats and a moonroof.

  She opened it now as she pulled away from the Dixon residence. It was another warm, humid evening, but she didn’t mind. The wind blowing inside, stirring her hair, made her feel…alive. She hung one arm out the window and drove slowly down the street, her thoughts going to Kayla Dixon. So she liked football, huh? And she wanted to watch games together.

  Well, that could be fun. She supposed she liked her okay, even if she did have FBI ties. Maybe they would become friends. After being in town for over six weeks, seven now, she’d been wondering if she’d ever meet someone she could connect with. She and Kayla had some things in common and not just their work. She, too, loved football. And shooting pool. And Mexican food. She imag
ined spending time with Kayla would be enjoyable. When—if—things settled down in Sawmill Springs, maybe she and Kayla could do dinner one night or hang out at Cross Roads Tavern. Kayla wouldn’t be the first straight woman she’d made friends with.

  Of course, if Kayla started dating someone, that’d probably put an end to that. When Monica had started dating—what was the jerk’s name? Dustin?—he had all but put an end to their friendship. Apparently he was threatened by a lesbian being friends with his girlfriend. Although Kayla seemed pretty strong-willed, judging by how she stood up to her father. She couldn’t see some guy telling her who she could and could not be friends with.

  Oh, well, nothing to worry about. Right now, their focus was on two murders and a missing box full of cryptic tapes. She had half a mind to go by the station and pore over all the notes again, but she wasn’t sure what good that would do. Not alone, not without someone there to bounce ideas off of. If she’d been in Houston, though, with two high-profile murders, there’s no way they’d save a brainstorming session until morning. No, they’d be at it all night, tossing ideas back and forth. They wouldn’t take time for a home-cooked meal and apple pie for dessert. She wouldn’t be heading to bed at ten o’clock.

  Again, she reminded herself she wasn’t in Houston any longer. She was in peaceful little Sawmill Springs, where murder was as rare as a winter blizzard. She figured people were locking doors that hadn’t been locked in years. Porch lights that seldom came on now burned brightly all night long. And if she had to guess, there were rifles and shotguns and handguns being taken out of their hiding places and placed within arm’s reach. No, peaceful Sawmill Springs wasn’t quite as peaceful as it once was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The ride out to the concrete plant was made in near silence and Kayla gave up trying to carry the conversation. Her father offered nothing more than grunts to her questions. Murphy was in the back and she could see her amused expression in the mirror. Her father was in rare form this morning.

  It had been years since she’d been out to the plant, and she very nearly missed the turnoff. Her father grabbed the dash dramatically as she took the corner way too fast.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’d like to get there in one piece,” he mumbled.

  The plant was several miles outside of town, and she took the time to enjoy the scenery on the way out. The rolling hills were still green after the unusually wet summer they’d had. The days were no longer blistering hot, but summer was still hanging on, even as the calendar crept closer to fall. It was a lovely sight, as oaks and the occasional pine dotted the rolling landscape. She was already looking forward to next spring when the rains would cause the earth to explode in lush colors of green. Soon after, the wildflowers would cover the pastures in blues and yellows and reds. It was her favorite time of year, when there was so much color at once; it was almost too much to take in. When she was telling Murphy all the things she’d missed, she failed to mention springtime.

  She looked in the mirror, finding Murphy watching her. She smiled slightly, then turned her attention back to the road. There were a lot of months left before spring rolled around again—a lot of months, and now a murder investigation. She glanced over at her father who was staring straight ahead. She only hoped Uncle Ned wasn’t involved in any way. Sure, he had been in Lance Foster’s office, and sure, the visit had most likely been recorded without his knowledge or consent…but that didn’t mean he was linked in any way to Guy Woodard or Lance Foster. He could have been trying to buy some property, for all they knew.

  The plant entrance was on the right and she slowed as she turned. The plant was a little larger than she remembered. In fact, the place was bustling with activity. Concrete trucks were lined up, waiting their turn to be loaded with cement. She pulled out of the way as one was backing up into the plant’s loading dock, its loud beeping signaling a warning to her.

  “Has it grown?” she asked as she headed toward the office.

  “Yeah, he’s got six crews now…five or six guys to a crew.”

  “What’s over there?” A section was fenced off, and inside were rows and rows of birdbaths and statues, all different shapes and sizes.

  “A statuary, he calls it. Been doing it a few years now.” He motioned to a spot next to the sidewalk. “Stop here. I don’t see his truck around. Let me go see where he is.”

  He got out and slammed the door, and she turned in the seat, glancing at Murphy. “You ever handled a murder investigation quite this way?”

  Murphy smiled. “Can’t say that I have. You?”

  “No. And I miss having resources. I’m sure we would have fingerprint results back by now.”

  “That just means we haven’t gotten a hit yet. We likely won’t.”

  She motioned out the window with her head to where her father stood—cell phone to his ear. “That must mean Uncle Ned’s not here.”

  “Are you close to him?”

  “Ned? Growing up, our families were always together. My cousins are all older than I am, but we still got along. Like my dad said last night, lots of family gatherings over the years.”

  “Are they still around? The cousins?”

  “Two still live in town, yes. The boys. The girls both married right after college. One lives in the Houston area and the other in San Antonio.” She hadn’t thought of them in years though. When they were younger, yes, they’d been close. She was the last to move away. After her marriage to Kevin ended, she’d intentionally stayed away from Sawmill Springs during family holidays to avoid questions. Over the years they’d simply drifted apart. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d even seen them. She looked at Murphy and shrugged. “I guess to answer your question, not really close, no.”

  “I know what you mean. When I was growing up—”

  Her dad got back inside the car, interrupting Murphy with a slam of the door. “Not here and not answering his cell. Charlotte says she doesn’t know where he is, but I don’t believe her.”

  “Charlotte? She’s your aunt, right?”

  Kayla nodded at Murphy’s question, but her attention was on her father. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking he’s mixed up in something and now two men are dead and he’s hiding.”

  “Hiding because he had something to do with the killings?” Murphy asked.

  “Oh, hell no. That’s my goddamn brother we’re talking about. He didn’t kill anyone. Hiding because he’s scared.”

  Kayla looked at Murphy. “And if we had resources, we could track his cell phone.”

  “We don’t need to track his damn cell phone,” her father said. “I know where he is.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I’m still contemplating whether I want you two to go along with me or not.”

  She put the car into reverse and pulled away from the office. “That’s not an option and you know it.”

  He turned and looked over his shoulder at Murphy. “When we find him, you let me do the talking. Don’t need to get him spooked, having a stranger asking questions.”

  Murphy nodded. “Yes, sir. You’re the boss.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at Kayla. “About time somebody recognized that fact.”

  “Put your seat belt on,” she interjected, the incessant beeping getting to her.

  “Bossy like your mother,” he murmured.

  She sighed. Maybe she should have stayed with the FBI. Everything was structured. There was procedure to follow, and it was hardly ever deviated from. She should have known going to work for her father wasn’t going to be as smooth as he’d said it would be. She stopped the car at the entrance to the plant, not knowing which direction to go.

  “So are you going to tell us where he is?”

  He pointed to the right. “I’d bet a hundred bucks he’s up at the hunting cabin.”

  “The old hunting cabin way back off Zimmerman Road? Where the pond is?”

  “Yeah, but he’
s got it fixed up. That’s where we’ve been having the family barbeques the last few years. It’s way back in the woods. Got to get through a locked gate to get on the property. That’s where I think he is.”

  Kayla pulled out onto the road, then glanced in the mirror, meeting Murphy’s gaze. She couldn’t tell if Murphy was annoyed or amused by her father. As their eyes held, Kayla wondered what she was thinking. She wondered if she, too, was having second thoughts about leaving her job and coming to Sawmill Springs.

  * * *

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Earl muttered as he jerked on the chain. “He changed the lock on me.” He pocketed his keys, then jerked his head toward the car. “Get me the goddamn bolt cutters.”

  Kayla popped the trunk for her and Murphy opened up the toolbox, pulling out the bolt cutters like he’d requested. He easily snapped the chain in two, and then opened the gate.

  “Let’s close it behind us. Just in case someone comes around,” he said.

  She held the gate open while Kayla drove through, then she closed it, slipping the broken chain between the fence and the gate.

  “I hardly remember this,” Kayla said as she drove along the narrow road.

  “Yeah, he’s let the woods grow up along the road.”

  “How much land does he have?” she asked.

  “Three hundred acres. He bought it years ago, just for hunting,” Earl said. “Fixed up that old cabin though,” he said to Kayla. “Even got AC in it now.”

  The lane turned sharply, disappearing into the woods. From the main road, you wouldn’t even know it existed, it was so well hidden. After a few minutes, they came to a fork, one road more used than the other.

  “I’m assuming we go left,” Kayla said.