When Cicadas Cry, page 22
“Not a thing out there, Buck,” Eli said. But he took the rifle—another trusted friend—from the rack and put it by the door just in case.
Eli returned to his chair but left the lamp off. Tennessee whiskey tasted the same in the dark. Besides, he liked the way the lightning lit up the room. Buck abandoned his vigil at the south wall and curled at Eli’s feet.
Eli’s thoughts raced. It wasn’t that Sam had a girlfriend Eli didn’t know about. Hell, most kids kept stuff like that to themselves, but in a million years he never would have guessed his grandson was having a go with Buford Gadsden’s daughter. Eli and Buford had crossed paths a few times, but they were from different worlds, and in those days, there had been no way to step from his world into that white one. Given how things had turned out for Sam and Jessie, maybe there still wasn’t.
Eli had known when he discovered the hidden phone that it wasn’t good, but it never entered his mind that it was the thing that would link Sam to Jessie—certainly not that it was the burner they’d been talking about. What would he have done if he had realized what he’d found? Taken it to Zach anyway? Or destroyed it and never told another soul?
He was thinking it would have been the latter. No man liked to think he would deliberately do something wrong. But what was wrong and what was right? It sure as hell wasn’t right for Sam to lose his life for something Eli knew he couldn’t have done, or that Sam’s trial would be tainted by the color of his skin and the color of the victim’s.
Buck roused again, only this time his focus was to the east—at the front door. A low rattle filled his throat. Not quite a growl, but something had his attention. Eli put his glass down and moved toward the door, reaching for the rifle. There was a narrow opening between the curtains over the glass pane in the door, and he peered out. The reach of the porch light was farther in this direction, and Eli chuckled when he spotted the patch of gray and brown fur that had Buck all bowed up. The storm had sent a raccoon scuttling for shelter, and Buck clearly did not cotton to this critter on his turf. The dog whined and put a paw to the door—his signal for out. Eli put the rifle back by the door and knelt to rub Buck’s wiry fur. The dog was all muscle and wriggling with excitement.
“Buck, you got no business out in that storm, and that old coon will give you more than a fair fight. You’d best stay inside with me.” Buck disagreed. He put his paw back on the door and barked—his signal for out now. Eli took both hands and ruffled Buck’s fur and laughed as the dog huffed, shook him off, and pressed his paw back to the door.
“All right, buddy, I’m gonna give you what you’re asking for. But if you chase that blasted thing so far out in the woods that you don’t get back till after I’m gone to bed, your crazy ass is out for the night. You understand?” Eli could have sworn the dog grinned. He patted him on the rump one last time and opened the door, and Buck shot out like a bullet. Eli watched, chuckling, as the raccoon disappeared into the woods with Buck hot on his heels. Damn fool dog.
God, I wish I had half his energy, Eli thought as he settled back into his chair and reached for his glass. His thoughts went back to Sam and Jessie and what this might mean for Sam’s trial. A new question came to him: did Buford know? Could he have known earlier? His next thought made his blood run cold: did JB know? Could he have something to do with what happened to Jessie? Eli had long suspected JB was capable of that kind of violence. What if …
Lightning cracked so loud that Eli jumped and the last of his whiskey spilled across his lap as the glass fell to the floor. That wasn’t just close, it hit something. Eli hurried to the window.
Sure enough, the lightning had struck a small toolshed and started a fire. With everything so wet, he wasn’t worried about the house, but the truck was parked between the shed and the edge of the woods. He grabbed for his keys to move it away from the fire. It wasn’t until he was down the steps and running in the direction of the truck that it hit him—the flames weren’t coming from the roof of the shed where lightning would have hit. They were down around the ground and running along a line like they were fueled by a streak of something flammable sprayed along the edge of the shed. This fire was man-made, and no accident. As that thought hit him, he heard the distant slam of a truck door, and then another, and, like Buck’s, Eli’s own instincts kicked in.
He ran back for the rifle and pulled it to his shoulder. Seconds later he saw taillights and heard gravel scattering. Eli’s sniper skills were rusty but still there. One of the taillights shattered, then they were out of range. Oh no you don’t, you fucking cowards. You ain’t getting off that easy. He ran for the truck. He would chase those bastards down and put an end to this shit now.
He hadn’t run more than a few yards before his foot snagged on something that sent him sprawling face-first to the ground. The impact sent a sharp pain through his hip, snatching his breath away, and he lay motionless for a moment waiting for the pain to ease. Slowly, he regained his senses, and a few cautious attempts confirmed he could move his leg. The hip wasn’t broken. The ground was soaked, and mud had caked the side of his face and his clothes. Moving gingerly, Eli raised himself up onto all fours. Damn if his fall hadn’t given those fuckers time to get away. He’d never catch them now—no sense trying. The rain was pelting down harder, and he couldn’t see more than a few feet. What the hell had he tripped over, anyway? He turned and groped his way through the muck. At first, he could only feel mud and wet. Then his hand brushed against the unmistakable wiry hair, still warm. Eli heard a low keening, but it didn’t quite register with him that it was coming from him. He crept closer and gently lifted Buck’s limp body into his lap. A hole was torn through his old friend’s chest.
No. No! No, no, no, please, God, no, he begged. Don’t let it be.
But it was. Lightning hadn’t hit the shed, and it wasn’t a crack of lightning he’d heard at all. It had been the crack of a rifle. Buck must have circled back from the woods when he’d heard the intruders come into the yard. With the heart of a warrior, Buck was hardwired to protect what he loved—and that had cost Eli’s faithful friend his life.
The old man lifted his face to the sky as the rain punished the ground, and his howl rivaled the thunder that followed.
Zach was dead to the world when the phone rang, and he struggled to make sense of where he was as he sat up against the coarse material of the couch. Oh. Right.
He groped for the phone. Colleton. What the hell did he want this time of night?
“Colleton? You all right?”
“Yeah, but I’m worried about Eli.”
“He took the news better than I’d expected,” Zach said, thinking Colleton was talking about Sam.
“No, I mean this storm. It’s pretty bad out here.”
“Yeah, it had a punch to it when it rolled through town, too, but Eli’s weathered worse storms, and—”
“Lightning must have hit something over on his farm,” Colleton interrupted. “I can see the glow over the back tree line. It doesn’t look big enough to be the house, but it’s big enough to have me worried, and he’s not answering his phone. I’ve called and called, but it just rings. I’m getting dressed to drive over there, but it’s not possible to drive through the woods—I’ll have to drive the long way around and it will take me a while. You could get there faster from where you are. Would you mind meeting me over there?”
“On my way,” Zach said, already up. “Do you think I should call the fire department?”
“Already called,” Colleton said. “Just get over there. Call my cell as soon as you get there and let me know what’s going on, okay?”
“Got it,” Zach said, ending the call. He had left his clothes hanging on the back of the desk chair in the bedroom, so he opened the door quietly and grabbed them. If Addie was awake, she didn’t say anything, and that suited him fine right now. He went back to the living room, dressed, and was in the car seconds later.
By the time Zach turned down the long dirt drive to the farmhouse, the rain had doused the fire, though smoke still hung in the air. Pulling around the house he could see it had been a shed that burned. The house looked fine. He dialed Colleton’s number.
“Hey,” Colleton answered. “I’m still a few minutes away. What’s on fire?”
“Nothing anymore,” Zach told him. “It looks like lightning hit a shed. The rain put it out, though. You can tell the fire department to call their truck back.”
“Okay. Where’s Eli? Why didn’t he answer the phone?”
“No sure yet, the house is dark, so maybe he’s sleeping. The drive is a muddy nightmare, so I’m still making my way up there. I’ll bang on the door and wake him up.”
“Thanks—I’ll be there shortly.” Colleton hung up.
Zach turned the car so the headlights would light a path to the house. It was only then that he saw the lone figure on the porch.
“Eli? Eli!” Zach was out of the car and running. Eli was sitting motionless at the top of the steps with something dark cradled in his arms. He didn’t answer or even turn his head. Zach stopped in his tracks at the bottom step, finally able to make out what Eli held.
“Eli?” Zach kept his voice soft and low. “Eli, did Buck get hurt in the fire?”
Eli shook his head.
“Did he get hit by the lightning?”
“Wasn’t no lightning,” Eli said simply. “Wasn’t no lightning that started that fire, and wasn’t no lighting killed Buck, neither.” Eli sounded like he was about to break.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“What does it look like happened? Those hateful soulless fuckers shot my dog. They snuck in the yard like cowards in the dark and set fire to my shed and they Shot. My. Dog.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“No. By the time I got out here, they’d run back up to the road where they left the truck.”
“Did you get a good look at the truck?
“No, but it was a dark color—and now it’s missing a taillight.”
“You shot out a taillight from way back here?” Zach asked, looking back toward the road.
Eli wasn’t answering. He was bent over Buck, and it wasn’t until Zach saw the convulsing of his shoulders that he realized Eli was sobbing.
“Eli, I don’t know who did this. But I aim to find out. And when I do, I promise I’ll make them pay.”
Eli’s sobs had stopped, and he looked up with a quiet rage. “If you plan to settle this score your way, Zach Stander, you’d better find them before I do.”
CHAPTER 29
ZACH WAS GONE THE NEXT MORNING WHEN ADDIE WOKE UP. He hadn’t spoken to her since last night, but she’d heard him on the phone earlier about what had happened at Eli’s last night, and it made her sick inside. The police hadn’t found any prints on the envelope with the noose, but she still suspected JB and wondered if he’d been the culprit last night as well.
She’d also heard Zach say something about working at Colleton’s place today. She suspected that part was a last-minute plan so Zach could avoid her after last night’s fight.
She padded to the bathroom and grimaced at the puffy pink eyes that stared back from the mirror. She ran cold water over a washcloth and pressed it to her face and stood there a moment relishing the cool of the water. Her phone rang. Zach? She lowered the cloth to look at the screen. It wasn’t a number she recognized, and she started to let it go to voice mail. What the hell, she thought, any voice would be welcome right about now.
“Ms. Stone?”
“Yes.” She didn’t recognize the voice.
“I got your number from Julie Mathis—she said you wanted to talk to me about … about the Edisto murders.”
“Logan? Logan Bennett?” She couldn’t believe her luck.
“That’s me. What is it you wanted to know?” he asked. Addie didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone—she wanted to see his face and body language.
“Could we meet somewhere? Maybe for coffee?”
“I’m not too keen on coming into town when I don’t have to …” His voice trailed off.
“I could come to you in Green Pond,” she suggested. “What’s your address?”
“I’d rather you not come to my place—nothing personal. Do you know where the old Sheldon Church is, in Yemassee?”
“The old Greek revival ruins? Sure—do you want to meet there? Say in an hour and a half?”
“Yeah, that works. See you then.”
“Okay, bye,” she said, but he was already gone.
She leaned in and started the shower—she wanted to get there early. The last thing she wanted was for him to be waiting around and get cold feet.
Sheldon Church was burned by British troops in 1779, rebuilt, and burned again by Sherman’s 15th Corps in 1865. Now only its exterior redbrick walls and perimeter of towering columns remained, surrounded by ancient grave markers and live oaks. Despite its tragic history, on a sunny morning the picturesque ruins evoked a calm that bordered on hypnotic.
Arriving fifteen minutes early, Addie was surprised to find Logan already there. He had parked his truck and was sitting on the lowered tailgate looking very much at ease in the middle of nowhere. Julie had apparently been right about his preference for staying away from crowds. As Addie walked toward him and got a closer look at his face, she realized Julie had been right about that, too. There was no doubting he would have been a heartthrob as a teenager.
“Logan Bennett, I presume,” Addie said.
“Come on, I couldn’t have been that hard to find.” He smiled.
“You do seem to have been off the grid for a while.”
“I didn’t have much choice. You’re interested in this case after more than thirty years. Imagine what it was like back then.” He shook his head as he searched for words. “People were angry about what happened and scared it might happen again. They wanted answers and they wanted to feel safe and, maybe more than anything, they were desperate for someone to blame—anyone. And there I was. The mere fact that I happened to leave the party during the time period they were killed was enough to land me in jail for two murders I didn’t have anything to do with.”
“You didn’t exactly help yourself by refusing to say where you were,” Addie said.
“Maybe not, but even after they found proof of my alibi, there were people who refused to believe it. They convinced themselves I somehow killed those girls and hoodwinked everyone into believing I was somewhere else. I got a lot of hate mail, and then the threats started coming a little closer than my mailbox, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Addie said, thinking about the brick through the window and the noose left on their doorsteps.
“I was scared for myself, and, worse, for any friends I might still have, so I dropped out of sight for a while. I hadn’t planned on it being permanent, but eventually, I came to realize I liked the peace and quiet. I guess you could say it works for me.”
Something was sure working for him, Addie thought as an image of Julie Mathis flickered in her mind. The man with her this morning looked comfortable in his own skin and seemed to have made peace with what happened far better than poor Julie had.
“Julie told me about her talk with you, and that you have all the sheriff’s office files. I’m not sure what I would have to add to that,” he said. “What is it you wanted to ask?”
“I know your alibi was being on a shrimp boat with Buford Gadsden on another part of the island that night, but that information only came out because someone else called in an anonymous tip. According to Emma, you wouldn’t say anything at the time other than you were buying drugs. Let’s start with why you were so reluctant to tell the details.”
“I didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble.”
“Some kind of honor among thieves?”
“I had a damn good reason to tell on myself. That didn’t mean I should rat out the others.”
“Surely you weren’t going to take the rap for two murders just to protect someone who was selling drugs.”
“I seriously doubt that, but I guess we’ll never know for sure,” he said. “At the time, I was convinced that whoever killed them would mess up and get caught, and I’d be out without having to involve anyone else. It didn’t happen the way I imagined it would, but at least the truth came out on its own.”
“Emma told me the basics of your alibi—what was in the news—but anything else she might have known would be privileged. She can’t tell me, but you can. Now that all these years have passed, can you tell me the details?”
“You talked to Emma?” His face lit up. “I haven’t talked to her in years—decades. How is she?”
“She’s good. Retired from the PD’s office and has a small private practice.”
“Good for her,” he said. “She was good to me, and she believed my story was true when no one else did.” He had deflected her question.
“May I?” Addie asked, patting the tailgate with her hand.
“Sure,” he said, sliding to one end and leaving her the other.
“So, about my question.”
“Which question?”
“The one about your alibi. Can you walk me through where you were and what you did during the time you were missing from the party?”
“How is that going to help find who killed Tara and Cindy?”
“Maybe it won’t,” she admitted, “but the more pieces of the puzzle I have, the better my chances of spotting something they might have missed years ago. Especially if it’s a detail you hadn’t told anyone at the time.”
Logan studied her intently before he answered.
“What is it you want to know?”
“I already know other witnesses noticed you were gone at around ten o’clock.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Let’s start there—where did you go when you left the party?”
