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  “I’m certain they are. You stay put, Ms. Pruitt. Don’t wander off—stay with Buddy.”

  “Don’t wander off! You think I’d leave my little boy all bloody…and dead…in a mess of leaves…. He’s so cold…. He was comin’ home to me, but before he could get there—”

  Ms. Pruitt broke the connection. Marissa drew a deep breath, reached for the glass of water she always kept by her bedside, and drained it. By this time, Lindsay had jumped up on the bed and, sensing Marissa’s tension, had brought her a toy rooster for comfort. Marissa put the rooster on her lap and pulled Lindsay close to her while she dialed 911. Marissa identified herself and explained the situation, verifying that a woman had called for assistance on Oak Lane and an ambulance should arrive shortly.

  Marissa then called Andrew Archer, editor of the Gazette, and gave him the information. “I’ll go immediately,” he said, and Marissa heard his wife, Tonya, protesting in cranky sleepiness. Andrew seemed to ignore her. “You stay home, Marissa. You don’t officially begin work again until tomorrow.”

  “It is tomorrow, Andrew, and I’ll meet you on Oak Lane.”

  Twenty minutes later, wearing jeans, a heavy sweater, boots, and a down-filled coat, Marissa left a note for Catherine, who’d apparently taken the phone extension out of her bedroom and hadn’t heard the call. Marissa simply wrote:

  There’s been an accident on Oak Lane. Andrew and I are going to the scene. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

  She picked up her notebook, tote bag, and tape recorder and turned on a living room light, although a family room lamp burned as well. Maybe the lights wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking people at the Gray house were sitting up alert and prepared to face down a killer, but she didn’t want to leave Catherine obliviously asleep and alone in the house. Lindsay was not a trained watchdog, but Marissa knew she would begin barking if anyone tried to enter the house. Marissa locked the front door and dashed to her rental car.

  Ms. Pruitt had said she and Buddy were at his favorite tree on Oak Lane. Marissa had no idea which tree on Oak Lane was Buddy’s favorite, but as soon as she turned onto the narrow street she saw the swirling red lights of an ambulance and a police patrol car. She parked half a block away from the scene, not wanting to get in anyone’s way or call attention to herself and be ordered to leave.

  Marissa carefully walked on the dirty ice and snow, not yet removed by street cleaners because of Oak Lane’s nearly non ex is tent traffic. As she neared a patrol car, she heard a woman’s wails cutting through the noise of police speaking loudly and chatter coming from official radios.

  “No, I won’t let go of him. Don’t you even try to make me let go of him! Didn’t you hear me? He’s my boy—my Buddy! My poor, poor little Buddy!”

  Portable lights turned the scene a startling blue-white. Two police officers drove stakes into the cold ground and attached yellow tape, but their efforts to preserve the crime scene were useless. A plump woman Marissa knew must be Bea Pruitt crawled frantically on the bloody snow around her son, pulling down the tape, scuttling back to the body, clawing and swatting at anyone who came near, ignoring pleas for her to let officials examine Buddy for evidence.

  “You don’t need to put your rough hands all over my boy lookin’ for clues!” she yelled, her face smeared with Buddy’s blood. “I’ve already done it nice and gentle.” She waved something small, limp, and white at them. “That trashy blond Marissa Gray kilt my boy. Here’s your evidence. Her name and phone number. She might as well have left her callin’ card. You go put her in jail and stop tryin’ to poke and prod at Buddy. And don’t you dare take pictures of him like this! He’d die of shame and my poor boy’s been through enough today!”

  Marissa came to a halt as horror washed through her. Bea Pruitt looked like an animal pitifully trying to protect her injured young from relentless predators surrounding her. Marissa had never met Bea and didn’t like Buddy, but the pathos of the scene filled her eyes with tears and made her want to run back to the peace and comfort of her home, away from the bloody snow, the crazed woman, and the crumpled body of Buddy Pruitt, who looked much smaller in death than in life.

  Mesmerized by the dreadful scene, Marissa didn’t see Andrew Archer walk up to her. “I told you to stay home.”

  “And you knew I wouldn’t.” Marissa looked up at Andrew. He’d changed dramatically since those days when he and Dillon had gone out on the Annemarie. Andrew was no longer all long, clumsy arms and legs and big, naïve blue eyes in an unnaturally pale face. He wore his light hair in a stylish, if conservative, cut, not the unflattering crew cut he used to sport, and his body looked trim and yet fit, as if he worked out. The last few years had hardened his face. He now had cheekbones, a stronger jawline, and a look of experience in those formerly innocent eyes. “This is awful,” Marissa said, unable to keep the distress from her voice. “That poor woman. What are they going to do about her?”

  “Obviously they have to get her away from the body. The only way I can see that happening is by giving her a tranquilizer.”

  “How can they do that?” Marissa asked. “She won’t let them near her. Are you suggesting they use a tranquilizer gun?” Marissa sighed. “That sounded like I was making a joke. I wasn’t. I’m just appalled.”

  “I know.” Andrew looked at her. “So am I.”

  At that moment, Eric Montgomery yelled for everyone to back away from Ms. Pruitt. Those surrounding her stopped, but they didn’t retreat. Once again, this time with a firmer edge to his voice, Eric ordered people to withdraw. Another few seconds passed as the police and paramedics looked at Bea panting, her long hair hanging in her face, her expression almost feral, and they began to move away. The world seemed to stop as Bea Pruitt looked at the gathering of officials, her gaze challenging them to come near her and Buddy. She was exhausted, though, and after only a couple of minutes she sank from her hands and knees to a sitting position.

  Eric didn’t move as he called, “Ms. Pruitt, I’m Eric Montgomery. Has Buddy ever mentioned me to you?”

  “Well, of course,” the woman answered disdainfully. “He didn’t like you as much as he did Sheriff Farrell, but he said you weren’t bad at your job.”

  “I’m glad to hear Buddy had a fairly good opinion of me. And you should know we all thought Buddy was a fine deputy, Ms. Pruitt.”

  The woman looked at Eric suspiciously. “That’s not what he told me. He said you people at police headquarters laughed at him.”

  Eric smiled. “Now, Ms. Pruitt, you know Buddy could be overly sensitive. Sometimes we joked around with each other and nobody cared. Sometimes when we joked with Buddy, though, he took it personally. Everyone at headquarters thought Buddy was a good deputy.”

  Ms. Pruitt hesitated and then asked, “You did?”

  “Well, sure. He worked there for almost ten years. You don’t think Sheriff Farrell would have kept Buddy on the force so long if he wasn’t good at his job, do you?” Bea Pruitt simply looked at Eric, but Marissa could see that the woman was thinking about what Eric had said.

  “Buddy probably would have gone on being a shining example in law enforcement for many more years, but his life was cut short.” Eric shook his head sadly. “We need to examine his…him so we can look for evidence. We’ll be as gentle as possible, Ms. Pruitt, but we need to know who did this to Buddy.”

  Ms. Pruitt had seemed to be calming down, but suddenly she yelled, “I know who did this to Buddy! I told you! I’ve got the evidence right in my hand—a note with that Marissa Gray’s phone number on it!”

  “Yes, I know you have that note. But as I’m certain Buddy must have told you over the years, we can’t convict someone of murder on the basis of a note. Besides, we might find even more evidence.” Eric took a deep breath. Marissa could tell remaining calm and placating in this situation was beginning to take its toll on him. “That note will have to be sent to the crime lab and I’m sorry, but we do have to examine Buddy’s body. Buddy would understand that it’s the law.�
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  Ms. Pruitt hung her head and began weeping. Eric continued, “What would help us most is for you to go sit in the ambulance for now. You must be freezing, Ms. Pruitt. Meanwhile, we’ll look at Buddy and the crime scene, and then we’ll carry him gentle as a baby and put him in the ambulance with you.”

  Although Marissa knew part of Eric’s speech was insincere, unless he had completely changed from the man she’d once loved, the gentleness and compassion in his voice were genuine. No matter how much trouble Bea was causing, Marissa was certain he empathized with someone trying to protect the person she loved most in the world, even if that person was dead. Unexpected tears rose in Marissa’s eyes as she remembered Eric keeping everyone away from his sister’s body hanging over the pulpit, not allowing anyone to touch her because they might injure her neck or her back or any part of her body, because he could not accept that she was dead.

  “You can ride with him to the hospital,” Eric called to Bea. “Will that be all right with you, ma’am?”

  “Is it a good idea for her to accompany the body to the hospital?” Marissa whispered to Andrew.

  “It’s the only way they’ll get her to go peaceably. Don’t worry—they’ll separate her from Buddy at the hospital. A doctor will make sure she’s all right physically and sedate her. I’m sure they’ll keep her at the hospital tonight. Look at her—she certainly can’t go home, even with a friend.”

  All the while Eric had been talking to Bea Pruitt, he’d also been inching closer to her. He stood only about a foot away from her now and he held out his hand. “Please come with me, Ms. Pruitt.”

  The woman looked at the body of her son, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat, and reached for Eric’s hand. “Okay. But you have to promise me you won’t hurt Buddy.”

  “I promise.”

  “And promise me you’ll go arrest that Gray woman.”

  “We’ll certainly be talking with her. Come on now, Ms. Pruitt,” Eric said quickly. “The sooner you go sit in the ambulance, the sooner we can get our work done and bring Buddy to you.”

  Andrew took Marissa’s arm. “We’re not close and she’s partially blinded by the lights, but I don’t want Bea to catch sight of you.” Marissa knew Andrew could feel her arm trembling. “Why don’t you go home for now? Once they put Bea in the ambulance, she could break free and start running or…well, I don’t know what, but her seeing you could have disastrous results.” He smiled at her. “There’s nothing you can do here, so try to get some sleep so you’ll be alert tomorrow. And come in an hour later than usual in the morning. I don’t want you nodding off at your desk.”

  “Andrew, I would never—”

  “Go home now, come in an hour late, or you’re fired.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Marissa mumbled, managing to grin at him. “You just scare me silly, you know that?”

  “My wife says the same thing.” Andrew grinned. “Now go!”

  Chapter 6

  1

  Although Marissa had reset her alarm clock to go off an hour later than usual, Catherine shook her awake after she’d slept a mere twenty extra minutes. “Marissa, you must have turned off your alarm clock,” she hissed. “You’re running late.”

  Marissa moaned and muttered, “You don’t have to whisper when you’re trying to wake me. Besides, Andrew said I could come in an hour late this morning.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll just tiptoe out and you go right back to sleep.”

  Lindsay had already begun picking out toys from one of her wicker baskets, preparing for the day, and the smell of gourmet coffee floated into Marissa’s room. “Never mind. I’m awake. Forty more minutes of sleep aren’t going to make my mind any sharper than it is now, which isn’t saying much.”

  “This morning I saw your note.” Catherine looked both dismayed and eager as Marissa threw off the blankets and pulled on her velour robe. “What happened last night?”

  “Please go downstairs and fix me a big mug of coffee while I wash my face. Then I’ll give you all the details.”

  Ten minutes later, Marissa took a gulp of steaming coffee, looked at her sister, and announced, “Buddy Pruitt has been murdered and his mother says I did it.”

  Catherine gaped and asked loudly, “Buddy Pruitt the deputy?” Marissa nodded. “He’s been murdered?” Marissa nodded again. “By you?” Marissa stared at her. “Oh, of course not by you. I meant why does his mother think you killed him?”

  Marissa spent the next five minutes explaining the situation to Catherine as she rummaged through the cabinets until she found the aspirin bottle. “I’m reorganizing the kitchen,” Catherine said, and Marissa inwardly groaned. Now she’d never be able to find anything. She gulped two pills while her sister absorbed the details of the previous night. When Marissa sat down again, Catherine looked at her calmly.

  “Gee, I expected more of a reaction. Do you hear about murders nearly in your own backyard every day?”

  “I’m training myself to remain expressionless. I’ll probably be hearing quite a few shocking stories in my practice.” Catherine took a drink of coffee and shook her head. “Buddy Pruitt. I haven’t thought about him for years, then we saw him yesterday, and last night he was murdered.”

  “His mother thinks seeing him at headquarters set off my raging homicidal impulse.”

  “You said he was murdered on his way home. How did she know he saw us? Did he call her and tell her?”

  “I have no idea what Buddy Pruitt could have done. He might have dashed home and told her. Eric sent him out before we left headquarters.”

  “Yes, he did.” Catherine frowned. “I don’t believe you should go in to work today. You’re still recovering from the wreck and you were out in the middle of the night. You look terrible.”

  “Catherine, you sweet talker!”

  “Oh, Marissa, you know—”

  “I know what you mean, but I missed yesterday and at the Gazette office I might learn more about the murder.” Marissa stood up. “So I’m going to fix another mug of coffee, go upstairs, and begin the hopeless task of making myself look halfway professional.”

  2

  Marissa arrived five minutes late to find the Gazette offices seeming to crackle with electricity. Everyone moved faster, talked more, held telephone receivers, and furiously took notes. As soon as the door closed behind Marissa, every set of eyes seemed to find her. Unnerved, she didn’t go to her desk as usual. She headed straight for Andrew Archer’s small office. He, too, was on the phone but waved her in when she knocked lightly on the door.

  “Did aliens land last night?” she asked as soon as Andrew finished his call.

  “We had a murder. Did you forget?”

  “I certainly didn’t, but I’m not used to all of this frenetic activity caused by one murder.”

  Andrew smiled slightly and told her to sit down. “I keep forgetting that you’ve come to us from a Chicago newspaper. I imagine they have they have quite a few more murders in a city of almost three million there than we do in Aurora Falls.”

  “To say the least. Have you learned any more than we did last night?”

  “The word is out that Buddy was carrying a note with your name and phone number on it.”

  “Oh. So that’s why I got all the stares when I came in this morning.”

  Andrew nodded. “Ms. Pruitt kept yelling about it. No wonder every bystander picked up that piece of news. Anyway, Eric Montgomery is supposed to have a press conference around eleven a.m. He’ll tell us what the medical examiner learned from the autopsy. Of course, he already knows, but he told me firmly about half an hour ago we’d know when everyone else does. I wish you still had some influence with that guy.” Andrew stopped abruptly and turned bright red. “God, I’m sorry, Marissa.”

  “Eric and I ended a long time ago.” She airily waved away Andrew’s apology, hoping he hadn’t seen her tears last night as she’d watched Eric’s gentle handling of Ms. Pruitt. “We don’t have long to wait for the press conferenc
e. People at the Gazette knew Buddy. Does anyone here have an idea about who would want to kill him?”

  “Kill him? No. Kick him, shake him, dunk his head in a toilet? Probably. Buddy Pruitt was not the most charming man in town, you know.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did know. We had a one-sided run-in at the sheriff’s office yesterday, which makes his mother certain I murdered him.” She paused. “I wonder how Bea knew there was tension between Buddy and me at the sheriff’s? I also have no idea why Buddy would have my number.”

  “He wanted to ask you out for a date?”

  “Andrew Archer, I remember when you used to be too shy to say hello to me without blushing. Now I get this suggestion from you? Buddy wanted to date me?”

  “I’ve gotten bolder with the years.” Andrew smiled. “Besides, you couldn’t blame Buddy for trying. Maybe he thought you’d been pining for him since you came back to town.”

  “Well, I’d better get to my desk before gossip starts about us. Also, Eric will be holding the press conference in an hour and a half. I should get some questions ready,” Marissa said, starting to stand up.

  “Uh, Marissa, I want Hank Landers to be the lead reporter on Buddy Pruitt.”

  “But I—”

  “I know, but you were at the crime scene, Ms. Pruitt called you, and people know about the note on Buddy’s body with your name and phone number. You just have too many connections with this case.”

  Marissa dropped onto her chair. “Andrew, if you think I can’t be impartial because I didn’t like Buddy, you’re wrong.”

  “Tonya told me you wouldn’t take this well.” Andrew looked almost mournful. “I know you can be impartial. But the note and Ms. Pruitt bother me. Everyone will want to know why he was going to call you. And Ms. Pruitt keeps babbling about you being mean to Buddy at police headquarters yesterday. You can see how the public might think there was something between you and Buddy, bad blood. Bea Pruitt is in the hospital on a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold, but when she gets out if she’s still certain you killed her son God knows what might happen.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You can get mad at me if you like, but I can’t risk your safety, Marissa, and I won’t risk the reputation of the newspaper, either.”