TEN
SHERIFF HUGGINS RAN HIS FINGERS through his hair before lacing them behind his neck. Charlie watched as the sheriff’s weathered features firmed and then slacked as he stared out the window. Thinking. Trying to put the pieces together that had Charlie and the rest of the deputies puzzled.
“Why was she hiding her art?”
“I don’t know, sir. Kids hide things from their parents.”
“But she wasn’t hiding a life of drugs or alcohol,” Sheriff Huggins reasoned, leaning forward in his chair. “She was hiding her talent. Why?”
“Our meeting with the gallery owner didn’t offer us any answers on that front. Ms. Benedict—”
“Benedict?” Sheriff Huggins’s gaze swung to Charlie. “Annika Benedict?”
“You know her, sir?”
Sheriff Huggins gazed out the window again. “Her father. Noble Benedict. The infamous Savannah district attorney and philanthropist. Although his generous spirit never reached inside the courtroom. A bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Charlie thought about his meeting with Annika. That description seemed to fit her too, but why, he didn’t quite know yet. “Ms. Benedict wasn’t very generous in her information regarding Sydney. Claimed she didn’t remember how she acquired Sydney’s art or where she met her.”
“You think she’s lying?”
“I’m not sure it’s the whole truth.” Charlie shrugged. “First impressions of the woman don’t have me pegging her as the charitable type.”
“No, I don’t think she shares her father’s passion for helping others, but she does donate supplies for the veterans’ art program and our community center still receives a healthy donation annually. A new veterans home is being built near the river by Ford Plantation. Noble always had a softness for veterans. He had a heart condition”—Sheriff Huggins tapped his chest—“that kept him from being drafted. Went to college while his friends were being killed or coming home wounded.”
Charlie shuffled the contents of the file in his lap. His father joined the Marines at the end of the Vietnam War but wasn’t drafted. He volunteered . . . and Charlie never asked him why. Maybe like Noble Benedict he felt a sense of duty? Obligation?
“What else do we have on Sydney’s background?”
The question returned Charlie’s focus. “Her parents and teachers paint her as the all-American kid—no pun intended. Honor student. Was accepted to Anderson University on a partial scholarship. Volunteered locally. No history of drug or alcohol abuse. Not allowed to date—”
“No boyfriend?”
“No, sir. Not according to her father.”
Sheriff Huggins drummed his fingers on the desk but said nothing more.
“Best friends are Jolene Carson and Annabeth Mendoza—”
“Jolene Carson is the one Sydney was supposed to spend the weekend with, right?”
“Yes, sir. They’ve been friends since kindergarten.” Charlie flipped through his notes. “Jolene Carson is coming in shortly. Deputy Wilson spoke with Annabeth Mendoza yesterday.”
“Any other friends?”
“I had Deputy Wilson talk with the principal at the school, along with Sydney’s teachers, to see if there’s anyone else we should interview. We got a few names. Deputy Wilson’s going through that list now.”
“Based on what you just told me, does she seem like the kind of girl who would have a private Facebook account?”
“No, but maybe she was hiding something else.” Charlie thought about his meeting with Annika Benedict. That reminded him. “Sir, we’ve checked all the evidence and Sydney’s cell phone was not recovered at the scene.”
“Teenagers, especially girls, don’t leave home without their phones, do they, Lynch?”
“No, sir. Her parents gave me a description and the serial number, but if the phone is turned off or dead it will be impossible to track.”
“Contact their provider. They might be able to tell us the last location picked up by satellite.”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie flexed his jaw at the oversight. Why hadn’t he thought of that? How many times had they found terrorists hiding in holes because of the cyber crumb trail they left behind?
“And you’re making good use of Agent Padello?”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie appreciated Sheriff Huggins’s humility and willingness to reach out for help. Even if it meant reaching out to another agency. Far too many times Charlie had seen pride destroy lives because one alpha team had to outdo another alpha team, only to have the enemy humble everyone with an overlooked IED. “The FBI agent has been working with Frost on Sydney’s computer. We’re hoping we find something there.”
“Deputy Lynch.” Deputy Benningfield knocked on the doorframe of Sheriff Huggins’s office. “You have a visitor. Lane Kent.”
“Thank you.” A zing zipped through Charlie’s heart before his gaze landed on the sheriff. Gray eyes held concern. “She’s probably here for her memory card. Deputy Frost is finished with it.”
“Go take care of it.”
As Charlie stood and moved to the door, he could feel the sheriff’s stare boring holes into him. Why did it feel like he’d been caught with the man’s daughter? He stopped by his desk and grabbed her memory card. His heart thumped in his chest. Whether it was because of the troubled look on the sheriff’s face or because Lane was waiting for him, he wasn’t sure.
In the front of the station, he found Lane chatting with Deputy Benningfield. Lane’s long hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing the delicate features of her face. Their eyes met and she smiled, a small one, but it was powerful enough to send his pulse thrumming.
“Lane just made herself the best friend of every officer in the station.” Deputy Benningfield’s eyes sparkled as she looked in Charlie’s direction, giving him a wink before heading back to her desk.
“I just brought in some cookies. And these.” Lane picked up a tray of drinks and brought them to the counter. “To make up for the ones I spilled the other day.” She bit her lip as she glanced down at his uniform. “And I’d still like to pay for your dry cleaning.”
“The coffee and cinnamon rolls more than made up for the drinks. And I learned a long time ago how to get stains out of my clothing.”
Her dark lashes fluttered. “That’s a good skill to have.”
“A virtue instilled in me during basic training.” And a father who required order down to the folds of his underwear.
Her face shifted. Pain pinched the edges of her eyes. “You were in the military?”
“Yes. Marines.”
Lane seemed to consider his answer before speaking. “I don’t want to keep you—”
“Wait.” Charlie looked down at the memory card in his hand. “We’re done with this.”
“Oh, thanks.” Lane took the card from him and put it in her pocket. “Did it help?”
“We’re looking through the photos. You’re good. I mean, the pictures. They’re really good.”
“Thank you.” A pink hue colored her cheeks. “I should go.”
“Um, right. I’ll, uh, just walk you out.” Charlie came around the counter. What was he doing? He could already feel the stares piercing his back—not enough body armor to defend him from the teasing that would assault him when he returned to his desk. He didn’t care. He held the glass door open for her. “Dinner.” He blurted the word out like he’d just learned how to talk.
“What?”
Charlie let the glass door close behind them, giving them a little privacy. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”
Lane swallowed. Her gaze fell to her hand, the one with the golden reminder on it. Charlie’s heart sank.
“Maybe.”
Her voice was so quiet that he thought he had misheard her. “Maybe?”
She lifted her chin, her green eyes meeting his. “I like dinner.”
“Me too.” Charlie smiled. It felt goofy, probably looked that way too, but he couldn’t help it. The zing from earlier morphed into electrical pulses that were impossible to ignore. “There’s a restaurant I’ve heard is pretty good—”
“The church benefit,” Lane said, her eyes flicking over his shoulder. “Tomorrow night.”
It took a second before Charlie remembered the benefit for Sydney Donovan’s family. Amid the rumors and uncertainty, Amanda and Trevor Donovan refused to allow Sydney’s murder to define her, and together with the church they were having a benefit to raise money in their daughter’s honor to support the arts program at the community center in Walton.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” And then she nodded, almost like she was reassuring herself it was the right answer. “Pick me up at my place.”
Lane hurried down the steps and Charlie stepped back into the station—smiling.
“Deputy Lynch.”
Sheriff Huggins’s gruff voice grabbed Charlie’s attention. He spun around and found the man watching him, along with a few of the deputies who wore amused expressions. “Jolene Carson is waiting in the conference room.”
“Yes, sir.” Heat radiated from the center of Charlie’s chest, up his neck, and across his face.
Charlie looked down at the tray and smiled again. He had a date.
Jolene Carson hugged her arms close to her body. She shivered and Charlie dropped his gaze to the notes in front of him. Was she cold or nervous? The muggy warmth of the early summer day seemed to seep through his uniform despite the thrumming air conditioner blowing full blast.
“Would you like me to turn the air down?”
The girl shook her head, letting her long blonde curls fall over her shoulders like a blanket.
Charlie studied her clothing. Tiny shorts and revealing tops were the fashion, but they didn’t appear to do anything for comfort. Jolene kept adjusting the straps falling off her shoulder or tugging at the barely there denim shorts every few minutes. His eyes shifted to Ms. Carson. Her attire wasn’t much better. Nothing left to the imagination.
“Deputy Lynch.” Ms. Carson’s voice dripped with annoyance. “How much longer? I don’t want Jolene to miss too much school.” With a manicured finger, she tapped the chunky rhinestone watch on her thin wrist.
“Just a few more questions.” It had taken Jolene and her mother three weeks to fit this interview into their busy schedules. A little too long, in his opinion, for someone whose best friend was killed the night they were supposed to be together. He went over the notes. “I want to make sure I’ve got everything so you don’t have to come in again. Don’t want you to miss any more school.”
“It’s my senior year.” Jolene lifted her wide blue eyes up to meet his. She gave a tiny smile.
Jolene had reminded him of that fact several times throughout the interview. He watched her knee bounce. She was nervous. He’d seen similar behavior when a soldier was called into the commander’s office.
“Sydney was supposed to come to your house after school on Thursday?”
“Yes, but she didn’t show up. I figured she’d changed her mind. She did that sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” He leaned forward.
“Well, for a while there were times when we’d invite Sydney to hang out. She’d agree and then cancel.”
“Do you know why?”
“She never told us why. We guessed it was a boy.”
“Sydney had a boyfriend?”
“Oh, no.” Jolene’s eyes went round. “I’m not saying that. I don’t think she did. Sydney never told me if she did. She wasn’t allowed to date, but why else would she back out of plans? We’ve been friends forever.”
Good point. Love had a way of interfering in someone’s routine. His thoughts wandered to Lane. She would be a good interference in his day.
Ms. Carson tapped her fingers on the table, bringing Charlie’s attention back to the room. “And Sydney never showed up at your house?”
“No.” Jolene’s lip trembled and she covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks.
There was something about this Cinderella-esque girl that made him wary. Jolene was popular, smart, and probably the source of many boys’ daydreams. But she was nervous. Those big blue eyes were unable to hold his gaze for long. Maybe she was just scared. After all, her best friend was murdered. Charlie pushed a box of tissues toward her.
“I’m sorry.” Jolene wiped her face, and like a faucet the waterworks were done. She began picking at her silver nail polish. Her leg resumed its bounce. “It’s been hard without Sydney.”
“Please, Deputy Lynch.” Ms. Carson reached her hand over to his. “We’ve been here long enough. Jolene’s tired, and she lost her best friend.”
“Just one more question.” He looked at his notes. “Did Sydney like to paint?”
“Paint?” Jolene laughed. “Like an artist? No. Definitely not.”
“She never took an art class at school?”
“No way.” Jolene leaned in. “The art students are a little weird. She’d never hang out with that group.”
“Is that all?” Her mother rose but stopped when Jolene remained in her chair.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Jolene fidgeted.
“Anything that might help.”
“I don’t want to get Sydney in trouble.” Jolene’s eyes darted between her mother’s bewildered face and him.
It was silly for Jolene to think she could get her dead friend in trouble, but she was just a kid—a nervous kid with something to say.
“It’s okay. If you can help us find the person who hurt Sydney, you’ll be helping and honoring your friend’s memory.”
Jolene swallowed. “It’s just that I think she did have a boyfriend.”
Charlie nodded for her to continue.
“Brady Matthews. You should talk to Brady Matthews.”
A new name. A new lead? After confirming Jolene wasn’t holding anything else back, Charlie thanked them for their time. He escorted them to the exit and reiterated that if Jolene thought of anything else, she should call him. Ms. Carson took his business card and stuck it in her purse before winking at him.
Sheriff Huggins met Charlie at his desk. “What’d you get from Ms. Carson?”
“A wink.” Charlie smirked at Sheriff Huggins’s confused expression. “But the younger Ms. Carson told me Sydney might’ve had a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?”
“That’s interesting.” Sheriff Huggins tilted his head. “He’s on the football team. Pretty good too. Was he interviewed?”
“No.” Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “His name wasn’t even brought up by teachers.”
“You seem bothered by that.”
“Kids post everything about their lives on social media. If Sydney had a boyfriend, she did a good job hiding it from her friends and teachers.”
“She hid a Facebook account.”
“That’s true.” Charlie exhaled. “There was just something about Jolene. She was jittery. Nervous.”
“Jolene seems like a good girl, even if her mother’s a bit flirty. But don’t let that wink tease you. Ms. Carson prefers men with established bank accounts.”
“Not sure if I should be offended by that, sir.”
“Take it as a warning.” Sheriff Huggins sighed. “Let’s talk in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Why did it feel like he was being summoned to the principal’s office? Once inside, Charlie remained standing after he closed the door behind him.
“Have a seat.” Charlie sat and so did Sheriff Huggins. “You’re doing a good job, Charlie.”
“Thank you, sir.” Hearing his first name set the tone for this conversation. It was personal.
“I heard you’re having dinner with Lane tomorrow night?”
Charlie’s cheeks grew warm. Definitely personal. “Yes, sir.”
“What are your intentions with her?”
“Intentions?”
“When I learned about your move to Walton, I was under the impression that you intended to stay temporarily. Your military record is clean. Recommended promotion within the ranks. Even a medal or two. Could’ve had a long and successful career in the military—like your father”—Sheriff Huggins’s skin tightened around his eyes—“but you left.”
Charlie flexed his jaw but kept silent. The rundown of his achievements meant they weren’t up for question. There was a point and he would wait until it was made.
“Makes me wonder if maybe you aren’t running from something.”
Was that the point? Did his uncle think he would run away if things got serious with Lane? Charlie shifted under the assumption. He wasn’t running away from the Marines. He had fulfilled his obligation. Honorably. If he were running, it was toward a life that didn’t reflect his father’s. He wanted a life that put family before career.
“Sir, I have no intentions of hurting Lane. Or Noah. The emotion lingering in her eyes is as real as the ring still on her finger.” Charlie swallowed. “My intention is to get to know her. Have dinner. I’d like to take her some flowers, maybe even chocolate—if people still do that kind of thing—and if given the chance, make her smile. Because, sir, she has a smile that’d make troops sign up for boot camp a hundred times over.”
The sheriff’s deep gray eyes appraised him. “Lane’s been through more than her fair share of grief and I don’t want to see her get hurt, but your aunt says she’s been different since you’ve come around.”
Charlie’s pulse surged. “Good different?”
Sheriff Huggins peered at him beneath a blaze of white hair. “Son, I don’t reckon she’d have agreed to a date with you if it was bad.”
The affirmation was like a balm Charlie didn’t know his soul needed.
“Be careful. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie hesitated a second, wondering if the parental speech was over. When Sheriff Huggins reached for a file, Charlie took a chance and stood. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Lane prefers potted flowers over bouquets”—Sheriff Huggins picked up a file and thumbed through it—“and salted caramel chocolate is her favorite.”
Charlie grinned. “Yes, sir.”