Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1)

by Lynn Chandler Willis

  “Cole—listen to me. Whoever it is can’t follow both us if we go in different directions. Go. Get to the car. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Emma sobbed and clutched at me as Cole pulled her away. My heart shattered into a million pieces as I let go of her and pushed her toward her brother. He tugged her down the hill with one hand, and with the other, pulled Finn’s leash.

  When they disappeared beyond a ridge, I bolted toward an outcrop, sliding in behind it as shots blasted off the rock. The shots followed me down the trail, zapping in their wake leaves and small branches just over my head. I covered my head with my arms as I dove behind a slab of granite.

  I couldn’t breathe, suffocating on pure fear and adrenaline. My heart exploded in my ears, deafening me to the sound of my own sobs. A bullet flew over my head and exploded on the ground in front of me. Paralyzed with fear, I screamed out. Images of Cole and Emma and the fear that had ravaged their beautiful faces boiled inside of me.

  Maybe a mile. That was the distance between me and my kids. Between us and safety. And now we were separated. I scooped up a handful of broken branches and threw them to the opposite side of the trail, hoping to draw fire in that direction. When the shot rang out, I ran with everything in me. My legs exploded into an inferno as white hot pain shot up each limb, burning dormant muscles into action. Yet I ran. I would not stop until I knew my kids were safe. I could not stop.

  I ran toward a cluster of pines, then beyond to the next rock. From there, I could see the edge of the parking lot, the asphalt gray and worn. As I blinked back stinging tears, the rear bumper of the Tahoe came into view. As Cole backed it toward the trail head, I leapt up and made a run for it.

  Pain skittered up my legs, the muscles cramping with knots. My lungs were on fire with each gasping breath. A series of shots trailed me, finally stopping as I dove into the open passenger door.

  “Go!” I screamed at Cole. I barely had time to close the door as he gunned the engine. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. He had his seatbelt on.

  Emma was hunkered down in the backseat, the look of sheer terror on her face permanently etched into my mind. Finn was barking and trying to turn his big frame in circles as he watched out the window.

  “The Ranger’s station’s about two miles north. Turn left out of the parking lot. Hurry!” My words were clipped, the shortness of breath robbing them of syllables.

  Before we could make it onto the road, a full-size white SUV with the green stripe and familiar arrowhead logo met us head on. Cole slammed the brakes, sending Emma and Finn into the floorboard. The ranger and I leapt out at the same time, him with his gun drawn.

  “Up there—I don’t know who it was,” I stammered, pointing toward the forest. “They fired several shots…they just kept firing.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Parks Service Ranger Todd Blackwell’s office was cramped and cluttered, but being inside the four dingy walls felt safe. My ears still rang with the sounds of gunshots and my own screaming. And Emma’s crying. I’d never forget as long as I lived the sound of her fear.

  Blackwell took our statements with little emotion, like being shot at while hiking was an everyday occurrence. Maybe he was just being super calm so the terrified family in his office could take a deep breath and focus. My heart rate had yet to return to normal.

  My hands shook while I sipped from a cup of tepid water Blackwell had offered. He looked maybe mid-forties, with an athletic build and no-nonsense eyes. I had spoken with him before for an article about an orphaned bear cub. He was pleasant enough, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize he was much more comfortable with nature than people.

  I sat in a metal folding chair next to his desk while Cole sat in a plastic one a few feet away. Emma sat on the tile floor in front of Blackwell’s desk with her arms around Finn’s thick neck. She had said very little since our escape to safety.

  Cole stared at the floor, picking nervously at his cuticles. “They were using a laser scope.” His voice was quiet, reserved.

  Blackwell and I looked at one another with our mouths hanging open, then at him. “Pardon?” Blackwell asked for the same confirmation I wanted. Or didn’t want. The implication was beyond frightening.

  Cole finally lifted his eyes and looked at me, then at Blackwell. “They were using a scope.”

  Blackwell leaned forward. “How do you know?”

  “I saw the green light.” He stopped picking at the cuticle and looked up at Blackwell. “It was on my mom’s forehead.”

  Blackwell cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

  Cole nodded then glanced at me. He quickly turned his attention back to the cuticle. The act was more of an aversion than an interest.

  “I don’t understand. What does that mean?” Emma asked.

  Blackwell cleared his throat and began to speak but Cole interrupted. “It means someone was trying to kill Mom.”

  “That is not what it means. Don’t scare her like that.” My voice was stern. Maybe in an effort to hide my own fear.

  “There was a freakin’ green dot between your eyes, Mom—what do you think it meant?” He jammed his index finger against his forehead to illustrate his point.

  I couldn’t find my voice. Even if I had been able to speak, I didn’t know what to say. I pushed a swell of tears back, refusing to show my kids how vulnerable and scared I felt at that moment.

  A bell attached to the outside door jingled followed by a familiar voice. “Ava?”

  Ridge? I jerked my head up as he entered Blackwell’s office. It was all I could do not to jump up and rush to him, to the safety I knew his arms offered. Emma wasted no time seeking her own comfort. He wrapped her in a tight embrace then lightly kissed the top of her hair as she sobbed into his chest.

  “I called him from the car.” Cole looked at me, anticipating my question.

  Emma wiped her face with the backs of her hands. “Someone was shooting at us. Are you going to arrest them?”

  Ridge pulled away from her slightly and looked down into her tear-filled eyes. “Sweetheart, Ranger Blackwell will do everything he can to find out who was out there. It was probably just a hunter with really bad eyesight.” He offered her comfort with a warm smile. “Why don’t you and Cole take Finn out to the car. Maybe get him some water while I talk to your mom and Ranger Blackwell.”

  I wasn’t too keen on the idea of them being outside these four walls by themselves but knew there were probably questions coming that they didn’t need to hear the answers to.

  I assumed Cole still had the car keys. “Stay in the car. Do not get out.”

  Emma tugged Finn’s leash as Cole pulled himself up from the hard plastic chair. He stopped in front of Grayson and spoke quietly. “If they were hunting, Mom was the target. They used a green laser scope.”

  They shared a quick nod before Cole joined Emma and Finn. My breath hung in my throat as the doorbell jingled again and I knew my kids were now outside, exposed.

  “I’m not sure what capacity you’re here in, Sheriff.” Blackwell offered his hand.

  Ridge accepted the gesture. “I’m a family friend. Here to offer support.”

  On the verge…so on the verge, my toes were dangling off a cliff I’d backed away from so many times over the years. I couldn’t stop the tears. I didn’t want to stop them, allowing them to flow freely from my eyes and down my cheeks. In our moment of need, my son had called Grayson Ridge. Not Rick, nor Doretha.

  He knelt in front of me and used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears.

  Blackwell retrieved a box of tissues from a desk drawer then pulled one out and handed it to me. “Her son seems to think she was the intended target. Judging from the number of shots fired, I think he may be right.”

  I dabbed at my eyes then wiped my nose on the tis
sue. “I found holes along the trail where ginseng had been dug up. We were looking at the holes when the first shots were fired.”

  Blackwell scrunched his brows. “No one’s supposed to be digging on that trail.”

  But Trish had said she had a permit. “You didn’t issue permits this year?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not a one.”

  Why would Trish lie about that? My stomach jumped, twisting and turning with thoughts I didn’t want to think.

  “You think you might have walked up on a poaching site?” Ridge pulled Cole’s vacated seat closer and sat down.

  I brushed at my eyes again, wiping away the sentiment-laced fog. “It would have to be if there were no permits issued. But we were the only ones on the trail. At least I thought we were.”

  “Poachers don’t dig right on a trail.” Blackwell scratched his chin like he was scratching away his perplexion.

  “Ava, who all have you talked to about the poaching problem?” Ridge asked.

  Blackwell cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  I sniffled then tossed the tissue in the wastebasket beside Blackwell’s desk. “I was asked by someone to look into an alleged poaching problem for the paper. I’ve talked to a couple local growers and buyers, but none would…” I stumbled on the words. “None would resort to that. Besides, they would’ve had to have known I was going to be here today, right?”

  Ridge ran his hand over the dark morning stubble along his jawline. “Unless they followed you.”

  I heard what he was saying but I couldn’t comprehend the implication. “But the ones I’ve talked to have been buyers or the victims of poaching. Why would they want to hurt me?”

  “The buyers would have as big a stake in it as anyone,” Blackwell offered. “Especially if they have contracts to fill.”

  My heart jerked as I remembered Greg Hastings. He knew how much Trish had scored on her last dig. Money he needed for his sick father. And he knew I’d be at Porter’s Peak.

  Ridge followed us home and stayed with us the rest of the day, lying to Emma when necessary. He kept up the deer hunting charade for her sake. Although I had never advocated lying to my kids, I didn’t object this time. Convincing Cole would be a bit harder.

  Emma played with Ivy in the backyard on a wooden playset Emma had outgrown years ago. The swings and plastic slide had weathered life well. It made me smile knowing Ivy was part of its resurrection, breathing new life into its stagnant existence. On the back patio looking out at the playset and the river just beyond, Ridge taught Cole the fine art of grilling as burgers sizzled over the charcoal. I sat near the fire pit, taking it all in, relaxed in the warmth of the building flames. The river moved slowly, pushing its lifeblood downstream with a gentle hand. The music of the flowing water was subtle, barely there. But it was always there. It was a part of my life I couldn’t deny.

  Ridge gazed in my direction with eyes softer than the pale-colored sunset. I looked away, afraid to give in. There was still so much hurt, so much guilt that bubbled to the surface every time I looked at him.

  The playful banter between him and my son was interrupted by Brady, who joined the impromptu cookout. Dressed in his hunting camo, he and Cole threw a couple teasing punches at one another before Brady walked over beside me, pulled up a chair, and sat down. “Hey, Ms. Logan. Did y’all have a good hike?”

  I pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. I wasn’t up to explaining what had happened and how I feared Greg Hastings’ infamous temper had gotten the better of him again. Or how Trish might have been poaching and went and got herself killed over it. But the pain of the fear wouldn’t let me glamorize today’s hike either. “It was good up until the last two miles. You’ll have to go with us next time.”

  He picked up a stick and stoked the fire. “I’d like that. I haven’t been hiking in a long time. Me and my dad used to go when I was a kid, but Mom never did. She doesn’t like to break a sweat.” His grin was sweet and sincere, making him look more like a twelve-year-old than the brawling football player he was.

  “I spoke to your mom at the game last night.”

  He continued poking at the fire without saying anything. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “What’d she have to say?”

  “Not much. Just chit chat.”

  He sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. “She and my dad are fighting a lot lately. I think they might get a divorce.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Brady. It’s always hard for a kid to discover their parents don’t always have the answers, you know?” Truth be told, most kids I knew would be surprised at how much this parenting game their parents played was a hit and miss. There was no rule book. No game day plan to follow. Some kids became disillusioned when they learned our terrible secret.

  “Burgers are ready.” Grayson loaded dinner onto a platter.

  I pulled myself up from the chair then stretched the kinks out of my back. My thighs ached and shin splits burnt my shins. Although we were regular hikers, I wasn’t used to having to run. Ivy squealed in protest when Emma lifted her out of the swing. “Want to go get a cookie?” My daughter had learned the fine art of bribery from someone, and I was denying claim to that particular talent.

  Inside, we ate charbroiled burgers with all the fixings, grilled corn on the cob, and baked potatoes on Styrofoam plates in the dining room. Ivy had her cookie instead of a baked potato and for the moment all was good.

  We sat there at the table long after we had finished eating and talked about school, football, and the coming Halloween. Emma asked if she could be in charge of picking Ivy’s costume. She asked if the tot could be a princess; Cole told her not to give the toddler false hope—there were no princesses in this house, everyone pulled their own weight. I laughed until my eyes dampened with happy tears.

  A few minutes later, the relaxed, comfortable setting gave way as Rick came through the front door, a bottle of wine in his hand. The surprise on his face matched the expression on my own. I had messed up.

  I leapt up and made a feeble attempt to welcome him, stumbling over my own words.

  Cole looked from me to Rick. “Someone took a couple shots at us today. It was pretty scary for a while.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was trying to rescue me, knowing I’d forgotten about my earlier invitation, or covering my ass because Ridge was there.

  Rick stared at me, concern written deep into his face. “She didn’t tell me. What happened?”

  “Someone shot at you?” Brady asked. “Where at?”

  Cole swallowed a mouthful of burger, still enjoying his meal despite the awkwardness. “Up on Porter’s Peak.”

  “Maybe it was a deer hunter.” Brady lifted a brow, proposing what we all hoped, but doubted.

  “One shot, maybe. But not several.”

  The expression on Rick’s face pricked at my heart. Concern, anger, and hurt showed in his eyes. I took the bottle of wine and gently squeezed his hand, leading him to the table.

  “Hey guys, why don’t y’all take Ivy in the sunroom and watch a movie.”

  No one protested. I assumed they welcomed an escape from what had turned into a thick cloud of tension. Rick sat down and stared at the bottle of wine for a moment, then looked directly at Ridge. “So what happened?”

  I figured now wasn’t the best time to point out I was still in the room. I took a deep breath and sat down beside Rick. “Well—we were hiking and about two miles from the trail head, we heard gunshots.”

  “And you don’t think it was a deer hunter?” he asked Ridge, not me.

  Ridge shook his head. “Probably not. Like Cole said, one shot, we could probably assume that. But not several.”

  “How many shots were there?”

  “A lot,” I answered, although, again, the question was directed to Ridge.

 
; He glanced at Ridge then turned to me. “Did you report it to the Ranger’s office?”

  “He heard the shots and was on his way when we ran into him.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “We think Ava may have stumbled onto a poaching site,” Ridge answered.

  “Poaching?” Rick stared at me as if he’d never heard the term. “Poaching what?”

  “Ginseng. I’m doing an investigation into a supposed poaching problem and I was showing the kids some holes, right there on the trail, where it looked like it had been dug. That’s when the shots started.”

  Rick pressed his fingers deep into his forehead and massaged the area like he was hoping to rub away a sharp pain. He exhaled a long breath. “You said you were investigating a poaching problem. Shouldn’t that be something left up to the Sheriff’s department?”

  Ridge cleared his throat. “We’re looking into it.”

  “Since when? Since shots were fired?”

  “Rick—now’s not the time.” I surprised myself with how controlled my voice was.

  He pushed away from the table and stood up, gesturing toward the table and the meal we’d finished. “No, I guess it’s not the right time. Don’t let me interrupt your dinner.” He turned, storming through the living room toward the front door.

  I leapt up and chased after him, catching him on the front porch. “Rick, please. Just listen to me. It’s not what it looks like.”

  He stopped on the steps and spun around, facing me. The hurt in his eyes shone like a light in the dark. “What does it look like, Ava? You tell me.”

  The words wouldn’t come. They clung to the inside of my throat like my heart hanging onto the past. Tears tumbled out of my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

  Rick pushed his hands in his pockets and let out a deep breath. “I can’t keep doing this. I’ve tried, Ava. God knows, I’ve tried to help, to fix whatever it is that has you so broken.”