by Diane Moody
He turned toward her, his eyes glistening. “The thing is, I’m falling in love with you. I’ve tried to tell myself we haven’t known each other long enough, and that you’ll head back to New York one day soon. I’ve tried to tell myself you’re too much of a city girl to think of little ol’ Braxton as a place you could live. But my heart just won’t hear it. I can’t make sense of all that, but one thing I do know is this … I need more time with you. But I also need to put this whole mess with Tristan behind me, whatever that might look like. It wouldn’t be fair to see what we might have together with all of that hanging over my head.
“I guess what I’m asking is this. Please don’t go yet. I know Faye is doing better, but please don’t leave. Not yet.”
Aubrey glanced away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his eyes which seemed to see clear through to her soul. She gave herself a moment, needing to guard her words, her heart. But with each breath she took, she felt her heart losing its anchor.
She turned toward him, fixing her eyes on her hand now resting against his chest. She smiled as her eyes trailed slowly up to his.
“I’m not going anywhere, Peyton,” she said softly.
Chapter 35
After dropping Aubrey off at her house, Peyton decided to stop by the sheriff’s office before heading to the church.
“Hey Peyton.” Jeff closed the file cabinet in the outer office of the station. “What brings you by?”
“It occurred to me I’d never adequately thanked you for all your help the other day finding Faye.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s certainly not necessary. Just doing our job. And truth be told, we got lucky this time.”
“Sorry, but I have to disagree,” Peyton said. “First, because I don’t believe it was luck at all. It was an answer to a whole truckload of prayers going up. And second, if it hadn’t been for you getting the word out on that APB, that officer in Nashville wouldn’t have known to call.”
“Either way, I’m just glad she was found, and now she’s home. I haven’t talked to her since the other day. I heard she got some good news as far as her health is concerned. How’s she doing?”
“She’s great. Basically, it all happened because of an inadvertent mixing of medications. But she’s much better, more lucid, and needless to say, tremendously relieved. As is Aubrey.”
“Glad to hear it. It’s nice to have a happy ending now and then.”
“You’ve got that right. Listen, while I’m here I wanted to see if you’ve had any progress in solving Harley’s murder. I’m convinced more than ever that Tristan didn’t do it, but he’s still on the hook until the real killer is discovered.”
Jeff leaned back against the front counter. “We’re still working on the investigation, of course, though we haven’t found any proof one way or the other at this time. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Good. Sterling said you’re talking to some of Stone Decker’s crew. I just keep thinking he has something to do with this, but I can’t prove it. Keep me posted?”
“Will do.”
Cameron appeared in the hallway. “I thought I heard your voice, Pastor,” he said with a lazy smile. “Guess you might call it ‘divine timing’ or some such.”
Peyton shook the young deputy’s hand. “How’s that?”
“The thing is, something kept nagging me at the back of my mind, though I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. There was something familiar about that lady who said she was Harley’s wife.”
“You mean Charlene?”
“Yeah, her.” He scratched beneath his chin. “Then last night, while I was watching TV, it came to me.”
They waited. Finally, Jeff prompted him. “And?”
“It was some political thriller, and the president’s chief of staff suspected someone had been poisoning the president. So, he went to the Secret Service office there in the White House and asked to see some of the surveillance tapes taken in the Oval Office. And the guy sits down to browse the tapes. And that’s when it hit me.”
They waited again. “What hit you?” Peyton said.
“All that security footage I watched when we were trying to find some proof that your twin was here in Braxton. I remembered there was this woman who came over and talked to Tristan while he was gassing up his car. It was her. That Charlene woman.”
“What?!” Jeff stiffened. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“Absolutely,” Cameron said, waving them his way. “I’ve been trying to find the footage again, and I just now found it.”
They followed the deputy to a back office and circled him after he took a seat in front of a computer screen. He tapped a couple of words on the keyboard and hit ENTER. The screen showed a freeze-framed image. Cameron zoomed in on the picture which showed Charlene standing only a few feet from Tristan whose hand was on the nozzle as he filled the car with gasoline.
“Oh my gosh,” Peyton said with a heavy sigh. “Does this mean—”
“It doesn’t mean anything yet,” Jeff interrupted. “Cameron, rewind the tape so we can see the entire encounter.
“No problem, Chief.” He tapped the screen again then pointed to the images. “Okay, that’s Tristan getting out of his car.”
They watched as Peyton’s brother climbed out of the borrowed vehicle, walked inside the station to pay, then returned to the car and started pumping the gas. A couple of minutes later, a woman came out of the station, walking directly toward Tristan.
“That’s definitely Charlene,” Jeff said. “You can tell by the way she swings her hips as she walks and the short skirt.”
“Now, look,” Cameron says. “See? She goes right up and starts talking to him.”
“Do you think they knew each other?” Peyton asked.
“Hard to tell from this angle since we can’t see her face,” Jeff said.
“Just wait,” Cameron said, pointing to the screen. “Here it comes … now watch.”
Charlene reached out to touch Tristan, resting her hand on his forearm in a familiar way.
“Notice, he doesn’t pull back or even seem surprised,” Cameron added.
“Yeah, but remember,” Jeff said, “he’s been in prison for years. And she doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination, if you catch my drift.”
“I see your point,” Cameron said.
They watched as Tristan finished pumping the gas and returned the nozzle to the pump. He says something to the girl who steps closer to him. Then, with a shake of his head, he gets back into the car. Charlene leans into the car window, mere inches from Tristan’s face.
“The way I see it, she’s giving him quite a view down the top of her dress,” Cameron said.
“Yes, but it still doesn’t prove they know each other,” Peyton said, trying to ignore the knot wrenching his gut.
She leans in for what looks like a kiss on the cheek, then holds her hand against his cheek.
“Then again …” Jeff quipped.
Then, Charlene stands up, he starts the car and starts to drive off. She waves, then he waves as he’s pulling away. Moments later his car disappears from view. Charlene retraces her footsteps, heading back inside the station.
“Any footage inside that shows her talking to anyone?”
“No. She goes to the restroom, then comes back out again, walks around the back of the building and out of camera range.”
Peyton folded his arms across his chest then rubbed his face. “This can’t be good.”
“No, it can’t,” Jeff said. “But good work, Cameron. That’s excellent initiative on your part.”
“Just doing my job, Chief.”
As Jeff and Peyton walked back down the hall, Jeff clapped Peyton on the back. “If I were you, I’d call Sterling and go have a face-to-face with your brother.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Peyton pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Cameron, put that segment on a flash drive for Peyton.”
“Copy that.”
A couple minutes later, Cameron handed Peyton the drive. “Don’t give up,” Jeff said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As he placed the call to Sterling, he held the cell to his ear. “Thanks, Jeff. I think?”
Chapter 36
An hour later, Sterling and Peyton were back at the jail in Ashland City.
“What’s this all about?” Tristan asked as he was led into the windowless interrogation room where they waited.
Peyton tensed at the caustic suspicion blazing in his brother’s eyes, knowing his own eyes harbored the same mistrust. Had he ever truly believed in Tristan’s innocence? Or was it nothing more than wishful thinking? The video he’d now watched twice left him both skeptical and exasperated. But then, nothing with Tristan was ever easy. Why had he expected otherwise?
Tristan plopped down in the chair and immediately assumed his typical posture. Slouched, one shoulder higher than the other, exuding an air of indifference. Peyton quickly avoided eye contact, wishing he’d stayed in Braxton and let Sterling handle this.
The attorney stood at the side of the table between them and gave a nod to Peyton—his signal to open the laptop, insert the flash drive, and cue the recorded video.
Straightening, Sterling plunged his hands into his trouser pockets. “Tristan, we’re here to get something squared away. But before I say another word, I want you to truthfully answer one question. The night you were in Braxton, were you alone?”
His eyes narrowed, and a nerve in his jaw twitched. “What kind of question is that? I already told you what happened.”
Peyton groaned with impatience. “Just answer him.”
Tristan stared him down in his traditional manner. Finally, he answered, “I was alone. Just like I told you before.”
Sterling leaned forward bracing his hands on the table. “At no point during the entire time you were within the Braxton city limits did you associate with anyone or speak to anyone or have any interaction whatsoever?”
Tristan paused again before answering. “Except for those voices I heard at the church, but I never saw them or talked to them. Why?”
“I want you to watch this footage and then explain to me exactly what was happening.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just watch.”
Peyton pivoted the laptop so Tristan could see, then studied him. A flicker of something dashed through his eyes.
“That’s me at the gas station. So?”
“Watch,” Sterling repeated, standing over his shoulder now. A moment later, he said, “Freeze frame, Peyton.”
Peyton clicked the mouse stilling the images on the screen.
“Who is that?” Sterling asked, pointing to Charlene.
“I don’t know,” Tristan said with a shrug. “Just some girl who came up and asked me for money.”
“But you said you hadn’t spoken to anyone or had—”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I asked you a question.”
Tristan rolled his head back. “This is crap. I was putting gas in my car, and she asked me for money. I’d forgotten all about it, that’s how inconsequential it was. It was nothing!”
“Okay. Then continue watching.”
Peyton clicked the mouse again. As Tristan watched the encounter play out, he shook his head and raised his shackled hands.
“I’m telling you it was nothing! She was coming on to me, but I blew her off. You could see that if you’d take half a second and stop trying so hard to find evidence to incriminate me!”
“Then you are telling me you do not know this individual? You had never spoken to her before, and you had no contact with her after this?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Then tell me what she said to you. Word for word.”
He leaned back in his chair, the chain on the handcuffs rattling with his movements. He spoke in a monotone manner as if explaining it to a three-year-old. “She asked for fifty dollars. I told her I didn’t have it. She told me she could repay me if I’d wait with her. She said her husband had dropped her off to go get some money someone owed him. A lot of money. She said she just wanted to buy something to eat and get some aspirin for a headache or whatever. I told her I didn’t have any more money. I did, but I know a con when I see one. I wasn’t about to give her a dime.”
“After you got back in the car, when she leaned in, what did she say?”
His facial features relaxed, and a slight smile pulled at his lips as he pinned his glaring eyes on Peyton. “I don’t think you’d want to know, especially since we’re sitting here in the presence of a man of gawwwd,” he teased.
“Peyton can handle it,” Sterling snapped. “What did she say?”
Tristan smirked at Peyton, repeating the salacious offer she’d made him, clearly enjoying the obscene descriptions of what she’d called her professional “skill set.”
Peyton busied himself snapping the laptop shut as he avoided Tristan’s gloating.
“What’s the matter, preacher man? Need me to explain it to you?”
“That’s enough,” Sterling said. “I’ll ask you one last time. Under no circumstances had you ever seen her before or after that encounter at the gas station?”
“Please. Do I look like the kind of guy who has to pay for hookers?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“So who is she? How come you thought she was with me?”
“She’s a dancer in Vegas. She’s also the ex-wife of Harley Creech,” Peyton said, lifting the laptop into Sterling’s leather satchel as he stood. “The guy who died in the baptistry.”
“She showed up at the funeral announcing they were still married,” Sterling added as he knocked on the window for the guard to enter.
“And so, the plot thickens,” Tristan taunted as the guard helped him to his feet. “The dead guy was married to a Vegas call girl. I think I read a mystery about that once. It was called The Dead Guy’s Hooker. Or something like that.”
As Sterling left the room, Peyton paused while the guard led his brother out of the room. When he passed, Peyton prayed a silent prayer for Tristan, wondering how in the world God would ever get through to a lost soul like his.
“Thanks for the visit, preacher man. Sorry it was a waste of time.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Well, it was sure a waste of mine,” he scoffed as he shuffled down the hall with the guard.
Back in Braxton, after Sterling dropped him off at the church, Peyton stopped by his office to pick up his laptop and a couple of books he needed to work on his sermon for Sunday. He’d intended to spend the afternoon sequestered in his study at home. With the afternoon all but gone, he’d have to stay focused this evening to sort it all out. His entire routine had been kicked to the curb over the past few weeks, leaving him out of sorts about his church responsibilities. Even Sugar’s arched brows and accusatory glances didn’t bother him near as much as falling behind on his sermon prep.
Even worse, his personal prayer time each morning had suffered in all the flux of late. Reading a quick verse or two of scripture and rattling off a rushed list of prayer concerns left him unsettled, even a little agitated spiritually. He planned to grab a quick bite to eat then hunker down with Macy and try to catch up.
He ate some leftover chili he’d made earlier in the week along with the last piece of French bread. He fought the urge to wolf it down, knowing he needed to dial back the pace he’d been keeping. Macy curled up on the rug beneath him and rested her head on her front paws. He interpreted her happy sigh as a canine version of amen.
“Sorry I’ve been so busy, girl. You need to help me get back on track. Think you could do that for me?”
A brow lifted, one and then the other, as her tail thumped against the rug.
“Exactly. Enough is enough. Though I will say I had a great time with Aubrey this morning.”
Three thumps of the tail at a slightly faster rhythm.
&n
bsp; “Yeah? You like her too?”
Three more thumps and what he could swear was a smile on her ginger snout.
“Now, this stays just between us, okay? But I should tell you that this morning I told her I’m falling in love with—”
The ring of his cell startled him, and Macy too as she raised her head. He dug his phone out of his pocket and saw Gevin’s number on the screen.
“Hey Gevin.”
“Peyton, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. I just finished dinner. What can I do for you?”
“There’s something important I think you need to see.”
Peyton glanced at the kitchen clock, watching his study and prayer time ticking away. “Can it wait? Or do I need to come over now?”
“You need to come now.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Are you at the studio?”
“I am.”
“Then I’m on my way.”
The walk to Gevin’s photography studio on the square took less than five minutes. Peyton entered the studio’s open door and closed it behind him.
“Back here, Peyton,” Gevin called.
He followed the sound of his voice to the back workroom. On the long table at the center of the room lay several black-and-white photographs blown up to what looked like the standard sixteen-by-twenty inches. Most were pictures of Harley and friends, some from the funeral and reception following.
“How’s it going?” Peyton asked, tilting his head to see the various pictures.
“Good. Listen, I’m sorry to drag you out of the house tonight.”
“No problem. You said it was something important?”
“Yeah. Well, let me start from the beginning. Last night, Emily and I had dinner over at Matt and Julie’s, and while we were eating, I asked Matt about the investigation into Harley’s death. He mentioned a number of things but said the only piece of material evidence was some button found on the baptistry steps.”
“Yeah, Cameron found it that Sunday when Harley’s body was discovered. Why?”
“Did you see it? The button?”
