The Dark Woods (Winchester, Tn. Book 2)

by Debra Webb

  When she was loaded in her car, he settled his hat into place and gave her a nod. “See you at your grandmother’s.”

  Sasha gave him an answering nod. She told herself to smile but somehow being in the dark with Branch left her unable to do so. She rolled away from the gloomy house and the woods that held it hostage, and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the main road. She felt as if she hadn’t managed a deep breath since she set foot in that old house. All the dust, she told herself.

  Layers and layers on top of the memories...the pieces of her life.

  The drive to her grandmother’s home was wrought with building tension. Hard as she tried not to, she had worked herself into an emotional frenzy by the time she parked in front of the house. She should have better control than this.

  He hopped from his truck, skirted the hood and opened the passenger-side door for her.

  Control? Ha! This was Branch Holloway. She’d never had any control when it came to him.

  She climbed into the truck and he closed her door. All through her teenage years she had been besotted with him and he had barely acknowledged her existence beyond the Sunday lunches their grandmothers had shared. He slid behind the wheel of his truck, that big black cowboy hat of his lying on the seat between them. Of course, they’d run into each other outside school. Their grandmothers had been best friends. But he’d been two years older and always busy with football or being the most popular guy in school.

  Sasha had been reasonably popular as a teenager. There were several difficult years right after her parents died but those may have been more about her inability to interact than about anyone else. She’d crept into a shell for a while. What child wouldn’t under the circumstances?

  A furtive glance in his direction had her gaze lingering there. He’d always had that perfect square jaw. The kind of face—particularly his lips—romance novel heroes were written about. Her daughter had those same lips as well as his blond hair and blue eyes. Brianne was the female version of Branch Holloway. So many times Sasha had wanted to tell her...had wanted to get out her old high school yearbooks and show off the child’s handsome father.

  But fear had kept her from doing so. Sasha, the woman who was fearless in every other aspect of her life, was terrified of what she had done and it was too late to fix that huge misstep.

  Funny how she was here now, spending time with Branch to try to rectify a part of her past, and she was keeping this life-altering part of his from him.

  He would hate her when he learned that truth.

  Her stomach roiled. Any appetite she had possessed vanished. What was she thinking? Allowing him to help her with this investigation would only make him feel used in the end. This had been a very bad idea.

  Branch parked at the curb across the street from The Back Porch. Sasha recognized the corner shop. It had been an old antiques store the last time she was here. Now it was a happening place from all appearances. Lights were strung over the sidewalk on both street-facing sides of the establishment. Beyond the big windows tables were filled with patrons. Waitresses were running around with laden trays.

  The passenger door opened before she realized Branch had gotten out of the truck and walked around to her side. He held out his hand and helped her down. She tugged at the hem of her tee and wished she had taken the time to change. He was right in that the place looked very casual, but she felt dusty and rumpled after plundering through her mother’s office for so long.

  “I can’t say for sure what’ll be on the menu tonight, but I can tell you that anything you order will be excellent.”

  She glanced at him, produced a smile. “Smells great.” The aromas emanating from the screened entry doors had resurrected her appetite.

  He smiled and her heart reacted. She looked away. She spent her days and weeks managing other people’s personal and professional crises and she couldn’t keep her own ancient history under control? How sad was that?

  Pull it together, Sash.

  Branch opened the door and the music washed over them. A recent country hit, strumming through the sound system and through her. Inside, the floor was rustic, reclaimed wood as were the walls. A bar ran the length of the far wall. Every stool was occupied. Branch spoke to the waitress who looked up at him as if she was a mesmerized fan and he was her favorite rock star. Then she directed them to a table. It was tucked into a dark corner and Sasha was thankful for the out-of-the-way location.

  The waitress took their drink orders; Branch suggested the house specialty—their craft beers. Sasha could use a beer to settle her nerves. Maybe she would sleep better, as well. Last night had been a battle with the covers all night. She’d awakened more tired than when she went to bed.

  When the waitress returned with their beers, they ordered burgers and fries. Brianne would be appalled. She would strictly eat only healthy food. Sasha sipped her beer and relaxed. She loved that her daughter was so independent and strong-minded.

  “How did your meeting go?” They had spent most of their time together talking about her and her parents; she felt bad that she had asked so few questions about him and his life.

  He stared at the beer in his glass. “Great. It went great. They made me a terrific offer for a position in Nashville—a promotion.” He shrugged. “The whole thing went better than I expected.”

  Sasha laughed. “Wow. I have never heard a guy sound so down-and-out over such good news. Is this your excited face?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, that mask of uncertainty not shifting the slightest. “I’m undecided. To tell you the truth, I like being close to my family. It’s an unexpected development, that’s for sure.”

  He sipped his beer and Sasha bit back the words she wanted to say. Branch was a good guy. He recognized that his parents and his grandmother were getting older and he felt compelled to stay close. This was just another perfect example of what made him so sweet. She, on the other hand, felt like scum. She hadn’t once considered that it might be better if she moved closer to her grandmother. She was completely focused on her career and on her own life and that of her daughter.

  “You should do what makes you happy, Branch.” She turned the frosty beer glass round and round, kept her gaze focused on the rivulets of condensation sliding down the sides. “Too many people rush after the brass ring and lose out on happiness.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Oh, damn. She’d said too much. She might as well confess now. “I have to say that I’ve considered the idea that I should have been here for my grandmother. I was the only family she had left and I was not around.” If she’d hoped that confessing would make her feel better, she had been wrong.

  Even after she’d found out she was pregnant, Sasha had been determined to forge her own life. She’d wanted to go far away from here and become someone else. Not the daughter of a man who had killed her mother and then himself.

  “My grandmother always said your grandmother was very proud of you. She was very happy about your success. So don’t go beating yourself up for something that wasn’t real when she was alive and damned sure isn’t real now. You’re feeling guilty for a nonexistent issue.”

  She laughed. God, if he only knew. “So what are you, a shrink?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just a guy with experience in the blame department.”

  No matter that she told herself she didn’t want to know, she found herself asking, “What happened?”

  “I broke protocol. Got involved with a witness and she died. My superiors cleared me of any blame in her death but that didn’t seem to matter up here.” He tapped his temple. “I still felt responsible. The two-week suspension for breaking protocol didn’t seem like punishment enough.”

  “So you punish yourself by second-guessing whether or not you deserve this promotion.”

  The waitress arrived with their food before he cou
ld respond. Sasha poured a pool of ketchup on the edge of her plate and dragged a French fry through it. She nibbled the salty goodness. If she were completely honest she would admit that she devoted herself entirely to work and to her daughter because she didn’t feel as if she deserved a personal life outside the relationship with her child. She lost that right when she gave up everyone who had been there for her during her life before college.

  Her gaze drifted to the man across the table. Mostly because of him and how she’d left him out all these years.

  They ate. Laughed at silly moments from high school. Shared the ways they had struggled to build their careers. When she’d devoured all she could hold of the best—bar none—hamburger she’d ever eaten and half a plate of fries, as well as a second beer, she asked the question that had been burning in the back of her mind for years.

  “Why no wife or kids? And don’t give me that ridiculous answer you gave before about letting the only one for you get away.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, it’s true.” He sipped his ice water. No second beer for him since he was driving. “How was I supposed to fall in love with someone else when you stole my heart when I was fifteen.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That is completely not true and certainly no answer.”

  He pushed his plate away. “I guess I just never ran upon anyone who made me want that kind of relationship. What about you? What went wrong with your daughter’s father? The two of you aren’t still together. Maybe you let the only one for you get away, too.”

  Fear pounded in her veins. “We were never together.” She stared at her plate, tried to think what to say next. “I...I screwed that one up. He was a good guy but he’s...he’s out of the picture.” She met his gaze then. “I made a mess of everything and my daughter is paying the price.”

  A frown of concern lined his handsome face. “There’s nothing you can do to work things out? He doesn’t sound like such a good guy to me if he’s not interested in having a relationship with his daughter.”

  Sasha felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She had to change the subject. Now. “I visited the guy who fired my dad. Polk, Dennis Polk.”

  Branch angled his head, studied her face for a long moment. Then picked up on her cue, her change of subject. “What did he have to say?”

  “He didn’t fire my dad permanently.” She explained how Polk had tried to handle the situation. Her tension eased a little as they drifted back onto safer ground. “The interesting thing was, he doesn’t believe my father killed my mother either.”

  She also told him about her conversation with the Martins. A brief pause was required while the waitress cleared their table and asked about dessert, which they both declined. Branch insisted on paying. Another point of contention. She could not have him paying for her meals as if they were on a date. This was not a date.

  “You were busy today.” He leaned forward, braced his forearms on the table. “I’d like you to keep me informed of where you are and what you’re doing from now on. Just to be safe.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, hoping to ascertain the motive for the statement. “Are you or Chief Brannigan concerned with my activities?”

  Branch held up his hands. “No way. I just want to know you’re okay.” His arms dropped back to the table. “We have to face the fact that if your father didn’t do this, someone else did. Whoever that someone else is, chances are they don’t want us learning their secret.”

  It was a valid point. Certainly the idea had crossed her mind but she had chosen not to be put off by it. “What if that person or persons is dead?”

  “Then we probably have nothing to worry about but we’re talking about cold-blooded murder. A well-thought-out-and-executed set of murders. This was no impulse kill or robbery. It was planned carefully and carried out mercilessly. That tells us a number of things. First, someone powerful may have been involved—as in someone who paid hired professional thugs to do the dirty work. Or someone close to your family who knew the details of their daily lives and who could get in and out without being caught.”

  Planned and executed. She reminded herself to breathe. He was right. The images conjured by his words made her stomach clench and the taste of the burger she’d eaten turned bitter. Their deaths had not been about a robbery. Nothing had been missing—at least nothing of which anyone was aware. Certainly not money or jewelry or the usual valuables.

  “Let’s exchange contact information.”

  Once their cell numbers were added to each other’s contact list, she asked, “So what do we do now?”

  “We create a list of potential suspects. Anyone who was involved in the lives of your parents, either professionally or personally. Someone who had something to lose if a particular event occurred.” His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a slight shrug. “We can probably rule out Polk. If he was in love with your mother, it’s unlikely he would have killed her. The more reasonable path would have been to try to get your father out of the way.”

  “We might as well list everyone living in Winchester at the time.” She rubbed at her forehead. The idea was overwhelming. “This is a small town, Branch. Everyone knows everyone else.”

  He nodded. “True. But not everyone has something to gain at the expense of someone else. This is what we need to find. What did your parents know or have that was worth killing for?”

  She shook her head. “I should have made my grandmother talk about this. She refused when I was growing up. She said it was too painful. But I should have pushed the issue in recent years. Now she’s gone.”

  Sasha rested her face in her hands. This was too much. Too, too much.

  “Hey.” Long fingers wrapped around one of her hands and tugged it away from her face. Blue eyes zoomed in on hers. “We’ll figure this out. One step at a time. If you look at the big picture it can be overwhelming.”

  She dropped her free hand to her lap and told herself to pull her hand away from his but her body refused to obey. The sensation of his long fingers encircling hers made her feel safe and warm and not so lost and alone in this misery.

  “We’re going to look at this one piece at a time. We’ll start with their personal lives. We dissect each piece. Were there financial issues? Had your grandmother been helping financially? I’ll talk to my grandmother and see what she knows—if anything—that might help.”

  “Why are we starting with their personal lives first?” As a crisis manager, Sasha knew the value of a marketable commodity. For most people that was their professional lives. Certainly with celebrities the two often intertwined but the concept was the same. No matter that her grandmother liked to laughingly disagree, money—or the lack thereof—was usually the root of real trouble.

  “This was up close and personal. Not a drive-by or a long-distance kill. Up close. Personal. There was intense passion behind these murders.”

  Sasha stared at him for a long moment; her hand felt cold despite the feel of his skin against hers. “Is that why the police were so convinced the killer was my father?”

  Branch nodded. “In situations like this, it’s almost always the husband.”

  “But not this time.”

  “I firmly do not believe your father killed your mother,” he agreed.

  There was a but coming. She could see it in his face, hear it in his voice.

  “But there’s a strong possibility the reason they both ended up dead is because of something your father knew or had done. This would be why he pleaded so for her life. He didn’t want her to die for something he had done.”

  She drew her hand away from his, his skin suddenly burning hers. “I see your point, but I’ll reserve judgment until we have more facts.”

  Sasha had spent her entire life believing her father was innocent. She wasn’t about to throw him under the bus from a different perspective at this point without substantial evidence.

 
“Reserving judgment is warranted,” he acquiesced. “We should both keep an open mind until we have all the facts—or as many as we can dig up.”

  “All right.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Are you certain you have the time to devote to this case? I know you’re on vacation and obviously you have a decision to make.”

  Sasha stopped herself. What was she doing? Could she really spend the next several days working so closely with Branch without resurrecting those old feelings? Of course not. She was already struggling. Instead, she should be trying to figure out how she was going to tell him about Brianne. She had waited a very long time to find the truth. She didn’t want to screw it up now.

  What a mess she had made.

  He started to answer her question but she held up her hands to stop him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you to do this. You’ve been far too kind and giving already. This isn’t your issue. It’s mine. You have a life and I shouldn’t be dragging you into my problems.”

  He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound, more a sad weariness. “First, I offered to help because I would very much like to be a part of resolving this case. Second, I have nothing else I need to do except make that career decision in the next few days about where I go from here. Seriously, I am totally available.”

  “Still,” she argued, “this is too complicated, too personal...”

  “I want to do this, Sasha. It means a lot to me. Your family means a lot to me.”

  She wished he hadn’t said those words. Tears brimmed on her lashes before she could stop them. “I don’t have any extended family left, Branch.”

  He grinned. “You have your daughter and you have me and my family.”

  “You’re right. I’m feeling sorry for myself and I should get over it and get the job done.”