“Mick tried that. She’s going to write the book no matter what we think about it.” She looked down at her shoes. “Mick told her to stay away from me and Travis.”
“Why avoid her? Why don’t you tell her your side of things?”
She looked up into his eyes and the sunlight bouncing off his shiny head. “I don’t know if she’d care about my side.”
“Maybe, but you won’t know that unless you talk to the woman.” He unfolded his arms and rested one big hand on her shoulder. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that you have to confront something head-on. You can get through anything if you know what you’re facing.”
Which she was sure was true and very good advice, but she couldn’t think past the weight of his hand on her shoulder. The solid feel and the warmth of his touch spread to her stomach. She hadn’t felt warmth from a man since her ex-husband. The men in town talked to her and flirted with her, but they never seemed to want more than a coffee refill.
Steve slid his palm down her arm and grasped her hand. “I’ve wondered something since I moved to town.”
“What’s that?”
He tilted his head to one side and studied her. “Why you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I think the men in this town are half afraid of me.”
His brows lowered over his eyes and then he burst out laughing. A deep booming laugh that lit his face.
“It’s not funny,” she said, but at that moment, surrounded by Steve Castle’s laughter, it was kind of funny. And standing so close, with her hand in his, was kind of…nice.
Chapter 8
The fishing at upper Payette Lake had been so good, Sheriff Potter hadn’t returned until the following Tuesday, but once he’d been given Maddie’s card he’d called her immediately and set up a meeting for the next day at his house. If there was one thing in Maddie’s line of work that she could always count on, it was cops. Whether an LAPD detective or a small-town sheriff, cops loved to talk about old cases.
“I’ll never forget that night,” the retired sheriff said as he looked at the old crime scene photos through a pair of reading glasses. Unlike the stereotypical retired sheriff who’d gone to fat, Bill Potter was still quite thin and had a full head of white hair. “That scene was a mess.”
Maddie scooted the small tape recorder closer to the baby-blue La-Z-Boy recliner where Sheriff Potter sat. The inside of the Potters’ home was a fusion of floral prints and wildlife art that clashed on so many different levels that Maddie feared her eyes would cross before the day was through.
“I’d known Loch and Rose since they were kids,” Bill Potter continued. “I’m a few years older, but in a town this size, especially back in the seventies, everyone knows everyone. Rose was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and it was a shock to see what she’d done to those two people and then to herself.”
“How many homicide cases had you investigated before the Hennessy case?” she asked.
“One, but it was nothing like the Hennessy case. Old Man Jenner got shot in a dispute over a dog. Mostly we get accidental shootings, and those are usually around hunting season.”
“The first officer on the scene was a…” Maddie paused to look at the report. “Officer Grey Tipton.”
“Yep. He left the department a few months after that and moved away,” the sheriff said. “And I hear he died a few years ago.”
Which was just one of the many hurdles she was always coming up against in this town. Either people weren’t willing to talk about what happened or they were dead. At least she had Officer Tipton’s report and notes. “Yes, he died in an ATV accident in 1981. Did the shooting have anything to do with him leaving the department?”
Sheriff Potter shuffled the photos. “It had everything to do with it. Grey had been really good friends with Loch, and seeing him shot like that haunted him so bad he couldn’t sleep.” He held up the photo of Rose lying beside her dead husband. “It was the first time any of us had seen anything like that. I’d responded to plenty of automobile accidents that were bloody as hell, but they weren’t personal.”
Since there would be no trial to write about, Maddie had to get as much personal information as possible. And since the Hennessys weren’t talking, she had to rely on other sources.
“Grey had such a hard time with it. He had to quit. Just goes to show you that you don’t know how you’ll deal with a situation until you’re knee-deep in blood.”
For the next hour, they talked about the crime scene. The photos and reports answered the who, what, where, and when, but the why was still fuzzy. Maddie changed the tape in the little recorder, then asked, “You knew both Loch and Rose. What do you think happened that night?”
In every case like this, there was always a catalyst. A stressor was introduced that pushed the perpetrator over the edge. “From what I’ve heard and read, Alice Jones wasn’t Loch’s one and only affair.”
“No. She wasn’t. That marriage had been like a roller coaster for years.” The sheriff shook his head and removed his glasses. “Before they moved into that farmhouse right outside of town, they used to live down by the lake on Pine Nut. Every few months I’d get a call from one of their neighbors and I’d have to drive over there.”
“What did you find once you arrived?”
“Screaming and yelling, mostly. A few times Loch’d have his clothes torn or a red mark on his face.” Bill chuckled. “One time I got there and the front window was busted out and a skillet was lying in the yard.”
“Was anyone ever arrested?”
“Nah. Then the next time you’d see the two of them, they’d be all lovey-dovey and happy as pie.”
And when they weren’t lovey-dovey, they pulled other people into their messed-up marriage. “But once they moved into the farmhouse, the calls to your office stopped?”
“Yeah. No more neighbors around, you know.”
“Where is the farmhouse now?”
“Burned down….” He paused in thought and deep grooves wrinkled his forehead. “Must have been about twenty years ago. One night, someone went over there, doused it with kerosene, and lit it up good.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No one lived there at the time.” He frowned and shook his head. “Never did find out who started it. Always had my suspicions, though.”
“Who?”
“Only a couple of people wanted that house gone bad enough to do such a good job. Kids just playin’ around with matches don’t torch a place like that.”
“Mick?”
“And his sister, although I could never prove it. Didn’t actually want to prove it, if truth be told. Growing up, Mick was always in trouble. A constant pain in the ass, but I always felt bad for him. He had a real hard life.”
“Lots of children lose their parents and don’t turn to arson.”
The sheriff leaned forward. “Lots of kids don’t live the life Rose Hennessy left behind for her kids.”
That was true, but Maddie knew a bit about that life. She flipped a page in her
