Surviving the Truth

by Tyler Anne Snell

  “But I couldn’t even give LeAnne that,” he said. “I knew she was going, but when I looked down at her, all I could think about was Ally.”

  He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that truth. In fact, he’d planned to bury it so deep within himself that it would only haunt his nightmares.

  There was something about Willa, though. Something that made him feel comfortable and able to give in enough to show her that he valued her presence.

  He valued her.

  Kenneth thumbed the spot where his wedding band had once sat on his ring finger.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about what happened to my late wife, but she was killed and left out in a field. Shot. Like LeAnne. But alone. No one with her as she bled out. Just her and the grass and the sun overhead.”

  He took a breath. The ache that never went away sent a pulse of fresh pain through him. “Holding LeAnne, seeing her like that... All I could think about was if that was how it had happened with Ally. If she’d tried to stop the bleeding, hoped someone would save her. Or if she’d known there was no hope and given up out there. Closed her eyes and then never opened them again. All alone. And I hate that. I hate that I couldn’t give LeAnne the focus she deserved. I couldn’t save her and I couldn’t get out of my own head to say goodbye to her.”

  That was it, he realized. That was why he’d gone into his head after he’d seen LeAnne was shot. That was why he’d operated on reflex and muscle memory.

  It was why he’d let Willa take over.

  That, and because he trusted her.

  No small feat, he reckoned, but didn’t have the headspace to think more on just yet.

  He watched Willa push back her chair and come to his side. She took his chin in her hand as she had the night before in the hospital. Instead of kissing his cheek, she bent her head. Her lips were soft and warm and quick against his.

  When she broke the brief kiss, her cheeks had gone rosy again.

  “If I’m keeping count, that’s the third time you’ve kissed me,” Kenneth found himself saying. The world didn’t totally feel real at the moment, caught between a nightmare and a dream.

  Willa let his face go but held his attention like she was a bright, stunning flame and he was a moth with a mighty need for light.

  “I should apologize for that, too, but I won’t.” She held up three fingers and ticked off each point as she made one. “The first kiss was because I needed comfort. The second one was because you needed comfort. This one, the third, was only for the fact that you’re a good, good man, Kenneth Gray, and I don’t want you to ever think otherwise. You got that?”

  Her lips had been soft. Her tone now was not.

  She meant what she said.

  And she wanted an answer from him. No smart-alecky remarks and no backtalk.

  So he didn’t give her either.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Willa nodded, straightening. She smoothed her shirt down and tossed some of the hair that had fallen over her shoulder at her earlier movement across her back again.

  “Good,” she said simply. “If you need more reminding that none of this is your fault, just let me know and I’ll kiss you quiet again.”

  Kenneth could tell she hadn’t meant to say that by the way she paused and her cheeks turned a darker shade of crimson, but he laughed all the same.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She nodded again and was off with their dishes into the kitchen.

  Kenneth went back to his bathroom to get ready and change.

  After giving the office a quick call, he made his way to the living room. A folded blanket sat on the couch’s end, a pillow on top. She’d slept on the couch.

  Because she hadn’t wanted him to be alone.

  Kenneth cleared his throat as Willa joined him in the living room.

  She looked expectantly at him. “It’s not a coincidence, is it?” she asked. “Leonard Bartow happens to break into my apartment, the bloody cloth goes missing, and then a man tries to take my purse or me two days later.”

  Kenneth didn’t think so. Not at all.

  He said as much.

  “I think it’s all connected.” He sighed. “We just don’t know how yet.”

  Willa pushed her shoulders back, determination hardening her usually soft features. “Then what can we do now?”

  Kenneth could already feel his anger rising.

  She shouldn’t be a part of this, but there Willa was, right in the center it seemed.

  How he wished she wasn’t.

  Kenneth locked his eyes with hers and hoped she felt every vestige of intent behind his next words.

  “Now, we fight back until this entire thing is over.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They should have known that, at some point, living in a small town would have unforeseen complications. What they hadn’t expected, though, was that they get two steps into the sheriff’s department’s lobby on a Friday morning and find one.

  The man had a Guns N’ Roses tattoo on his forearm and anger in his eyes. He lunged at Kenneth before anyone could stop him. Willa, tucked at the detective’s side, didn’t see what was happening until Kenneth moved to become a wall in front of her. His protection cost him a right hook to the jaw.

  A deputy and two civilians in the lobby jumped up to step in. They separated the men enough to get the story behind the attack.

  The man who had delivered the hit was Jason Whitmore, LeAnne Granger’s fiancé.

  And he was grieving.

  “I’ve been there before,” Kenneth told Willa after assuring her for the umpteenth time within the span of a few minutes that he was okay.

  He’d smiled; it was strained to the max. “We picked up my pain meds for my arm. They’ll help my face, too.” He’d looked over at the still-riled-up Jason. “I need to talk to him. Why don’t you go get started on filling in Detective Lovett while I do that?”

  Willa had agreed and was escorted to the lead detective’s office by Deputy Kathryn Juliet. They’d gone to school together but hadn’t been more than acquaintances. Still, Juliet, as she’d told everyone to call her growing up, said she was glad that Willa was okay.

  It had been a nice sentiment and Willa thanked her for it.

  Then she was looking at Foster Lovett, another local. Though, he had left the fold with his high school sweetheart only to come back years later, divorced but accomplished. He’d been the first new hire to really make a difference, according to Martha and Ebony’s opinions, in the department since its name and reputation had been tainted. The job suited him, as had his experience. Because of them, he was well-liked, had gotten married and, most recently, had become a father.

  “Willa Tate.” His smile was weary. Everyone’s seemed to be lately. But maybe that was Willa’s own mood projection. It didn’t stop her from being polite.

  “Foster Lovett, the man who returned.”

  He came around the desk and bypassed a congenial handshake. His hug of greeting was quick but proper. When he stepped away, he chuckled. “Hey, I heard you’d left, too.”

  He motioned to the chair across from his desk. Willa noted a framed picture next to the nameplate on the desktop. It was his wedding picture. It was nice.

  “I went to college,” she said when he’d settled back into his chair. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing as going across country for a decade.”

  He ran a hand through his long hair. “You say it like that and I just feel old all the way to my bones.”

  “Don’t feel too old. I’m only a few years behind you in age. Making me feel anything other than young and relevant would be impolite.”

  He snorted and held up a hand in defense. “Well, I don’t want to be impolite. Not when your sister is still in town. She’d never let me hear the end of it.”

  The only
reason Willa was friendly, or at least had been before Foster had run off, was that he’d been actual friends with Martha. Along with his ex-wife. Though Willa decided not to bring any of that up.

  She wasn’t there for a social call, after all.

  Foster seemed to remind himself of the same thing.

  He leaned forward in his chair. Something all detectives apparently did when things became serious.

  “I talked to Kenneth this morning, briefly, on the phone. He said that he believes the break-in with Leonard Bartow and the attack on you downtown yesterday are connected. But we’ve designed the cold case unit to act independently from active cases, so I’m afraid I’m out of the loop. Bring me up to speed, if you don’t mind?”

  Willa didn’t.

  Like she had done with Kenneth, she told the detective everything. Even about the gun, which Kenneth had brought in, along with the box.

  Foster didn’t take notes but his eyebrows stayed furrowed as he listened. When Willa tied up the story, his look of concentration was still there. Though his gaze had shifted to the doorway.

  Kenneth stood within it, the side of his face red. “What do you think?” he asked Foster.

  Willa noted his hand was fisted at his side. Whatever conversation he’d had with Jason hadn’t been a fun one.

  “I think that, if it was anywhere other than Kelby Creek, we’d need more to go on to call this a web instead of several different non-connecting threads.” He shrugged. “But this is Kelby Creek and, from experience, I can tell you that it may be small but it has a knack for finding a way to be a massive pain in the backside.”

  He gave Kenneth a questioning look. “That is why I’m going to make an executive decision for our sheriff, who’s out dealing with press and the mayor, to keep you in charge of this. So what do you want to do? What do you need from me?”

  Willa could tell Kenneth hadn’t expected that. He did, however, have an answer ready.

  “I want to address anyone who isn’t actively patrolling or on a case. Now.”

  Foster nodded, not at all offended by the command. He stood. “Then let’s get to it.”

  Willa thought she would stay in Foster’s office or be taken to Kenneth’s, but instead she was led to a large room filed with tables, chairs and a whiteboard.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to ask you to tell your story one last time,” Kenneth said to her as staff who were available started to file in a few minutes later.

  Willa’s stomach fluttered with nerves but she told him she didn’t mind.

  That lie turned into more nervous twitches as the door closed behind the last person to attend the impromptu briefing. There were almost twenty people inside the room.

  Kenneth started the meeting off.

  With an absolute bang.

  * * *

  “MY NAME IS Kenneth Gray, but a lot of you know me as the man who left this department several years ago after my wife, Ally, was shot dead in a field.”

  The room fell into an absolute hush. Kenneth knew without looking at her next to him that Willa’s eyes had widened in shock.

  He wanted to tell her he was shocked too at how bluntly he’d said it.

  After speaking with Jason Whitmore, something in Kenneth had snapped. Or maybe exploded. Whatever the action, its force was still propelling him now.

  At first, Kenneth hadn’t known exactly what he was going to say. But he had known it wouldn’t be the pep talk about catching bad guys that everyone might have expected. Nor would it be a meeting with a summary of what had happened so far. It certainly wouldn’t be the cry for help that he himself had expected.

  He’d known that from the moment Detective Lovett had asked him what he’d needed.

  Because what he needed wasn’t just something he could do on his own.

  “For those who don’t know that about me, know that I left the department because I couldn’t find one lead, not one, in her murder,” he continued. “Other men, or women, might have stayed to put more good out into the world, but I wasn’t one of them. But then, as we know, The Flood happened and the damage from it was enough to get me back.”

  Kenneth paused, but not for dramatic effect. Instead he searched the faces of the men and women looking at him. He decided that he knew what needed to happen next.

  “Raise your hand if you were hired or transferred in after The Flood took place.”

  To his surprise, six people raised their hands.

  “Raise your hand if you were hired or transferred in a year or two before The Flood took place.”

  More hands went into the air than before.

  “And raise your hand if you were heavily investigated by the FBI task forces that came in after The Flood to root out corruption because you had been here for a good chunk of time before it happened.”

  No one raised a hand.

  Not even Detective Lovett. He had been a new hire after The Flood, despite being a local.

  Kenneth raised his own hand.

  He could see the surprise on some of his audience’s faces. He’d never told anyone that and, as far as he knew, the interim sheriff was the only one in the department who knew. Even Lovett couldn’t hide his sudden curiosity.

  He lowered his hand, knowing he now had everyone’s full attention.

  And that was good because he had a point to make.

  “Everyone knows the story. You’ve heard it from the gossip mill, the news, and maybe some who were directly affected. But let me make it clear exactly what happened.”

  Kenneth started to pace. All eyes were on him as he did so.

  “Annie McHale, daughter to the beloved and quite rich McHales, went missing one day,” he began. “If it had been anyone else, the reaction wouldn’t have been as swift, but the McHales were a special family. Humble, compassionate, and powerful. Everyone loved and respected them, and that love and respect trickled down to Annie...

  “So when a ransom call came in, it wasn’t just a family worried about her. It was a whole town ready to fight. But that’s not exactly how a ransom demand works. You can’t have an entire town in on it without putting the very person you’re trying to rescue in more danger. So the McHales turned to their best friend, and godfather to Annie. The sheriff at the time. He decided to handle the swap—five-hundred thousand dollars for Annie.”

  He paused again, the memory of seeing what had happened next on TV popping into his mind. As well as the memory of hearing it from his neighbor, who’d yelled at the news when her friend had called after witnessing it in person.

  “We all know what happened next. There was an ambush by the kidnappers. It became a bloodbath in the park and five people were killed, several were wounded, and Annie McHale was never seen. The kidnappers managed to get away and Kelby Creek made national news because they’d hacked into the town’s web site and played a live video of Annie, beaten and bloodied, begging to be saved while a kidnapper asked for a million dollars in three days or she would die.”

  Several people in the room seemed to physically readjust how they were sitting at that, as if trying to move away from the ugliness of the past. While the video had been taken down, it had been online long enough for recordings to be made and saved. Kenneth wouldn’t doubt that everyone in Kelby Creek had seen the video at this point.

  “The first FBI agents came in then to help sort everything out. One of them, Jacqueline Ortega, was the first of the two to have a hunch and follow it. She left a message on her partner’s phone and disappeared. Then the thunderstorm came, bringing with it a nasty flash flood. That flash flood is what sent the mayor off the road and why Ortega’s partner stopped to help him. That’s how he found Annie’s necklace in the mayor’s car, and that’s when he followed his new hunch that Annie’s kidnappers might not be strangers at all.” Kenneth looked to Willa. She was paying rapt attention. He hated to
put her on the spot, but he wanted to prove that what had happened was public knowledge. “Can you tell us what happened next as you’ve heard it from the news and locals, Miss Tate?”

  Willa’s cheeks darkened but her voice was loud and clear when she spoke.

  “He was able to connect the sheriff and the mayor to the kidnappers and figure out that they had been behind it all along. The FBI sent in another team to investigate. They learned that the corruption went far back and had spread like a cancer throughout the sheriff’s department and other positions of authority across town. During their investigation, several people were fired and arrested. Some disappeared.” She quieted a little. “Annie McHale and Jacqueline Ortega were never found.”

  Kenneth nodded. She gave him a small smile then was back to watching him like the rest of the room.

  “Now let me tell you what they didn’t advertise in the news or through the back channels of town gossip.” Kenneth rolled his shoulders. He was tense. He was antsy. He was tired of not having answers.

  “When the FBI first started looking into how the corruption had infiltrated this department, they were utterly overwhelmed with what they found. I only know this because, when they came to my door, they questioned every single detail of every single case I had assisted on or helped close. Every detail. Then, when that was done, they focused on everything else. Traffic stops as a rookie. Speeding tickets. What I was doing when a shooting had taken place or when a drug bust had gone down. Where I was when my wife was killed.”

  Rage at that, no matter how earned the question had been, would never, ever, go away for Kenneth. To be questioned in the home he’d shared with Ally, after tirelessly looking for her killer, only to fall into an obsession and then a depression, had been a pain that he’d never thought he’d feel. Yet, he’d had to power through it to keep his name clear.

  “It was only after I passed muster that one of the agents admitted they hadn’t expected so many others to be suspicious. Never mind guilty. He also told me he wasn’t sure the town could ever recover. Or that the department would even survive the gut job it was going to get.