WHITTEN COUNTY SHERIFF’S Office was the second biggest building in the city. The largest was the jail, which sat in all its concrete glory sprawled across ten acres of prime farmland. The new building that housed Whitten County’s law enforcement agency had been built less than five years ago. A big, marble sign the size of a small vehicle sat in the middle of the landscaped lawn, welcoming all visitors with the words, Whitten County – A Perfect Place to Call Home.

Detective Dick parked in a spot by the front and then exited the car. So did the Mayor. I tried to open the door to follow, but was locked inside. A wave of paranoia hit me. I’d never been inside a police vehicle before and felt like a criminal. When the detective opened the door, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Right this way, Ms. Thornton.”

The man’s attitude was completely different than the night at the lake. I needed to consider a different nickname. Detective Limp Dick popped into my head and I almost laughed. The humor of the thought disappeared when I noticed a long set of steps looming in front of me. I dreaded making my way up them. Climbing stairs was an activity that aggravated my back. Biting my lip, I grabbed the handrail and forced myself to keep up with their pace.

Once inside, a rush of warm air ruffled my hair. The heat was a welcome break from the blustery cold outside. Arkansas winters were usually mild but when the temperature did dip below the freezing mark, it was bone-chilling. The always-present moisture in the air went through a coat like you weren’t even wearing one.

While walking down a long hallway to what I assumed would lead to Detective L.D.’s office, we passed by Cliff Simpson. I smiled, but Cliff didn’t even look in my direction. I wondered if he’d been reprimanded for not taking me into custody. Even though I was several steps behind the detective, I felt the shift in his demeanor. Agitation rolled off the man in waves. We all passed each other as though strangers in a big city.

“Here we are, Ms. Thornton. Please, have a seat.”

He motioned to a chair across from a small desk. Mayor Cayhill moved past me and stood near the window. After shuffling through stacks of paper on the desk, the detective found the file he was looking for and opened it up.

The man looked as comfortable as I felt.

“Would you like something to drink?” Mayor Cayhill asked.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” I muttered.

“I’d like some coffee to help warm these old bones. Would you mind, Detective?”

I’m sure Detective Richard Greenwood had never fetched coffee for anyone other than himself. He was the fetchor not the fetchee. The look on his face at being asked to perform such a trivial task was hysterical. To his credit, he didn’t say a word as he stood and left the office.

Before the door was even shut, Mayor Cayhill took over the detective’s spot behind the desk. With practiced ease, he smoothed imaginary wrinkles in his tie and smiled at me. I’d never been in such close proximity with him so I studied his face. Dark blue eyes edged in gray eyelashes stared back at me. His white hair was wavier up close. His skin was wrinkled but like most men, age made him look distinguished, not old and frumpy. Warmth and charm oozed from him. I understood why the man picked politics as his livelihood.

He still looked remarkably close to the pictures in the yearbook I recalled from my youth. He graduated the year before Mom, so he had to be in his late sixties. Other than the white hair, he sure didn’t look it. To calm my nerves, I pictured him at home, standing in front of a huge mirror, applying some expensive cream to keep his skin soft and supple.

Lacing his fingers together, Mayor Cayhill took a deep breath. “As I mentioned before, Ms. Thornton, I asked Detective Greenwood to bring you here so I could thank you in person. I’m sure what you…experienced at Bradford Lake was difficult.”

“It was, but certainly not as difficult as what you must be going through. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know her personally, but your wife seemed like such a lovely person.”

“She was, indeed. No finer woman in this state than my Martha. That’s why I just can’t fathom why anyone would want to harm her. It just makes no sense to me, and I’m a man who deals in sense. Logic. Black and white. I’m having trouble grappling with the senselessness of it all.”

“I can’t imagine. Again, I’m so sorry.”

Mayor Cayhill paused. He looked down at the file folder in front of him then over at me. A subtle hint of tears glistened behind his eyes. He blinked twice and they disappeared.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we brought you here, Renee. May I call you Renee?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, sir. And yes, of course.”

“Please, call me Peyton. After all, we have a connection now, don’t we?”

Yeah, a morbid one. “One I’m sure neither of us ever wanted.”

“Very true, Renee. Very true. So, let’s get down to why you’re here. Are you aware there’s a reward for information leading to my wife’s whereabouts? Ten thousand from me and an additional ten thousand from the city?”

I couldn’t think of the right words to say so I nodded.

“Well, I’m sorry to say you’ll only be receiving my portion. There’s a reason for that, so what I’m about to say needs to stay in this room. May I have your word?”

Swallowing twice to dislodge the lump in my throat, I whispered, “Of course.”

“Part of being a good leader is having the ability to read people. I knew right away you were trustworthy. Honest. Solid and dependable. The backbone of our little piece of Heaven here in Whitten County, if you will.”

Politician—born and bred. Jackie certainly married JFK. Peyton Cayhill was smooth, confident, and full of shit. But hey, it seemed he was offering me manna from above in the form of ten grand—and maybe a job, too?—so I kept my mouth shut.

Mayor Cayhill looked down at the papers in front of him again. “I’m sure you’re aware I went to school with your mother and father? And that I’m thoroughly acquainted with Billy Runsford?”

Again, I nodded, wondering where in the Hell this conversation was going. So far, it was all over the place. I tried, but couldn’t imagine what in the world my parents and my ex—God, he said his freaking name!—had to do with all this.

“Our town and community are growing, and it doesn’t need any more scrutiny from the prying eyes of outsiders while we move forward toward a better future. That is the reason your name has been kept out of all this. We didn’t want the reporters to link you to the discovery of Martha’s body.”

Aha! The proverbial light bulb burst inside my mind. “Because it could lead back to…my ex.”

Mayor Cayhill smiled. This time, it wasn’t warm. Or inviting. It was downright eerie.

“Exactly! I’m sure you know people who don’t reside in less populated communities tend to assume negative things about small town living. You must admit, this is a strange twist of events. A man brutally beat his second wife to death and then the first wife discovers the body of the town’s Mayor. Bad publicity no matter how much we stand from the rooftops and shout it was mere coincidence.”

“Are you worried people would think we’re hiding something, is that it?”

“Yes, even though we aren’t. Also, since I plan on writing a letter to the Parole Board, asking them to deny Billy’s parole request next month, it might be construed by those who’d like to see him released we were somehow…oh, what’s the word? Cahoots? Yes, in cahoots together.”

My stomach dropped and I felt dizzy. This wasn’t happening. Did I hear him right? Did he just suavely throw in a veiled bribe?

Mayor Cayhill seemed to have noticed my distress. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Have you…discussed what happened out at Bradford Lake with anyone?”

I bit my lip, unsure if I should fib or come clean. Deciding I didn’t want to drag Eleanor into the web of lies between me and the Mayor, I lied. “No. I was so…upset I just haven’t been able to talk about it.”

“Quite understandable. Good to hear. Like I mentioned, I knew you were dependable. Strong, too, to endure such an awful experience on your own.”

“I’m no stranger to difficulties, sir.”

Mayor Cayhill gave a slight nod of understanding. The eerie smile from seconds ago morphed into a warm grin. “Peyton, remember?”

“Sorry, guess I’m just a little stunned by all this. Peyton. Got it.”

“I’m aware of your past struggles, and that’s part of reason the decision was made to leave your name out of the report. No one will know you were out there, which is why the city will not pay any reward to you. I, however, will. Again, just between the two of us. I’ve known your kin since childhood—it’s the right thing to do. You’ve lived through some very trying times, Renee. It saddens me to think it took my own personal tragedy to open my eyes to the suffering of others in the town I love.”

Despite the fact I didn’t agree with his reasons or the bribe about my ex, the thought of having that much cash made my heart pound with glee. It was only five grand shy of paying off my entire mortgage!

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

“There is one other item I’d like to discuss before you leave.”

Mayor Cayhill picked up an envelope and handed it to me. My hands shook as I took the wad of cash I assumed held ten thousand dollars. The pesky lump of tears formed in my throat again so I choked out, “Okay.”

“It’s my understanding your house is in foreclosure. I believe the reward money will make sure you retain your home. And since I made the decision to deprive you of the city’s portion of the reward, I came up with a better plan. Detective Greenwood informed me you were searching for a job, so I’d like to extend the offer to work in my office. Can you start tomorrow?”

Overcome with emotion, the tears came. I didn’t want them to, but they didn’t listen to my internal pleas to remain inside my eyes. Even though Mayor Cayhill’s reasons were ridiculous, and I didn’t buy a word of his impassioned speech, he just changed my life.

A life I’d planned on ending days before. The man had no idea he’d just offered a lifeline to a woman drowning in her own suicide lake.

Clearing my throat, I grinned through the tears. “Yes, sir. What time?”