Cold Case at Camden Crossing

“Hello, Mayor.” He tipped his hat to Mr. and Mrs. Marx and Judy Pullman in greeting.

“Is it true? Tawny-Lynn Boulder is back?” Mayor Truman asked.

Chaz tensed, hating the way the man said her name as if she’d committed some heinous crime. “She’s here to take care of her father’s estate.”

Mr. Marx stood, his anger palpable as he adjusted his suit jacket. “Your father said he talked to you.”

Chaz hated small-town politics. He hated even more that his father thought he ran the town just because he had money. “Yes, he voiced his concerns.”

“What are you going to do about that woman?” Mayor Truman asked.

Chaz planted both hands on his hips. “Ms. Boulder has every right to be here. You might show a little sympathy toward her. After all, she lost her father and, seven years ago, her sister, too.”

The mayor’s bushy eyebrows rose. He obviously didn’t like to be put in his place. But Chaz was his own man.

He started to leave, but Judy Pullman stood and touched his hand, then leaned toward him, speaking quietly. “Sheriff, does she...remember anything about that day?”

Chaz squeezed her hand, understanding the questions still plaguing her. For God’s sake, they dogged him, too. Like who had caused that freak accident.

Or had it been an accident?

They needed closure, but unfortunately their hopes lay in Tawny-Lynn’s hands. A lot of pressure for her.

“No, ma’am. I know we all want answers, and if she does remember something, trust me, I’ll let everyone know.”

“Is she...here to stay?”

He shook his head, thinking about how lost she looked facing that crumbling farmhouse. There had to be ghosts inside waiting for her.

“She said she’s just going to clean up the ranch and put it on the market.”

Mrs. Pullman stared at him for a long minute, then gave him a pained smile. “I guess I can’t blame her for running.”

Neither could he.

But if others still harbored as much animosity as the mayor and his father, he’d have to keep an eye out for her.

* * *

TAWNY-LYNN TUCKED the laundry list of supplies she needed into her purse and drove toward town. The road was lonely and deserted, the countryside filled with small houses interspersed between flat farmland.

A mile from town she passed the trailer park where Patti Mercer, the pitcher on her old team, used to live. Patti had dodged a bullet because of a stomach bug that day. Unlike her sister, Joy, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen and still lived in the trailer where she’d grown up, Patti had earned a softball scholarship and had left Camden Crossing. Tawny-Lynn wondered what she was doing now.

The road curved to the right, and she wove around a deserted tractor. The town square hadn’t changed except they’d refurbished the playground in the park, and the storefronts had been redesigned to resemble an old Western town. The tack shop had expanded, a fabric store had been added near the florist, the library now adjoined city hall and the sheriff’s office had been painted and bore a new sign.

She passed the sheriff’s office and the diner, then saw the general store and decided they’d probably have everything she needed. If not, Hank’s Hardware would. But she wasn’t ready to tackle repairs. She had to start by scraping off the layers of dirt and grime.

She pulled into a parking spot, noting that the diner was crowded. A couple who looked familiar, but one she couldn’t quite place, exited the general store as she entered.

She grabbed a cart, then strolled the aisles, filling it with industrial-size cleaner, Pine-Sol, scrub brushes, dish soap, laundry detergent, dusting spray and polish, glass cleaner, then threw in a new broom and mop along with buckets, sponges and a duster with an extended handle so she could reach the corners.

Thankfully she’d checked her father’s supply shed and had been surprised to find buckets and boxes full of tools of every kind. Apparently tools were another aspect of his hoarding. He could have opened his own hardware business from the shed out back.

A couple with a toddler walked by, the baby babbling as he rode on his father’s back. She frowned, her heart tugging a little. She hadn’t thought about having her own family, hadn’t been able to let any man in her life.

But this guy looked familiar. Maybe he’d been in her class?

She continued past them with her head averted. She didn’t intend to be here long enough to renew friendships or start new ones.

The locals probably wouldn’t welcome her anyway.

She bent to choose some oven cleaner, then added it to the cart, but as she stood, she bumped into a body. She twisted to apologize then looked up to see an older woman with thinning gray hair staring at her.

She frowned, trying to place her.

“Are you Tawny-Lynn Boulder?” the woman asked.

Tawny-Lynn swallowed. “Yes.”

“You probably don’t know me but my name is Evelyn Jergins. My husband drove the bus for the softball team. He died that day in the crash.”

Tawny-Lynn’s heart clenched. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You— They said you might know what made him wreck.”

The urge to run slammed into Tawny-Lynn. “No.... I’m so sorry, but I still don’t remember much about that day.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Trevor was a good man. I miss him every day.”

“I miss my sister, too,” Tawny-Lynn said.

“I heard about your daddy. That’s too bad.”

Tawny-Lynn shrugged, touched by the woman’s sincerity. “I came back to clean up the ranch and sell it.”

“Then you’re not moving back?”

She shook her head. “No, I live in Austin.”

She arched her brows. “Really? Are you married?”

“No.” God, no. She hadn’t been involved with anyone since her freshmen year in college when she’d found her boyfriend cheating on her. He’d blamed her. Said she wouldn’t really let him in. That she was closed off emotionally.

Maybe she was. The nightmares of the past tormented her at night.

She quickly said goodbye, grabbed her cart and headed to the front. A silver-haired woman with tortoiseshell glasses was working the checkout counter and smiled as Tawny-Lynn unloaded the cart.

“Looks like you got a job ahead of you, hon.”