In Silence

CHAPTER 16

Hunter hadn't set foot in the Cypress Springs Police Department in thirteen years. It hadn't changed, he saw. But then, in Cypress Springs nothing seemed to change, no matter how many years passed.

He had come today because he had remembered something about the other night that might prove useful to the St. Claire murder investigation.

And because since finding the dead woman thirty-six hours ago, he had been unable to think of much else. He couldn't put the image of the dead woman out of his head.

The front desk stood empty. Not for long, Hunter surmised by the steaming mug of coffee and half-eaten doughnut sitting on a napkin on its top. Hunter didn't wait, instead he strolled past as if he still had every right to do so.

He found the door to his father's office open, the room empty. Hunter stepped inside. It smelled like his dad, he realized. And like his childhood.

Hunter scowled at the thought, at the rush of memories that flooded his mind. Of playing under the big, old oak desk, of him and Matt staring openmouthed as their dad chewed out a couple underlings, of his last visit to the office, on his way to college.

Hunter had attempted, one last time, to broach his feelings of exclusion and alienation from his family.

"Dad, just tell me what I've done. Tell me why you've shut me out. You and Mom, Matt and Cherry. It's like I'm not one of you anymore. Talk to me, Dad. I'll do whatever it takes to make it better."

But his father hadn't had time for him. He had brushed him off, insisting Hunter was imagining it. That the fault lay with Hunter's perceptions, not reality.

Angry, hurt, he had left, promising that he would show them all, someday, somehow he would show them.

Hunter's gaze landed on the desk. A file folder stamped Photos lay on its top.

From the murder scene? he wondered, inching toward the desk. He saw immediately that they were; the file's tab bore the name St. Claire, Elaine.

"Hello, son."

Son. Hunter turned, feeling that one, quietly spoken word like a punch to his gut. He met his father's gaze. "Dad."

His father's shifted to the desk, then back to his. "What brings you in this morning?"

"The St. Claire murder."

The man nodded and ambled across to his desk. He motioned to the chair directly in front of it. "Have a seat."

Hunter would have preferred to stand, but he sat anyway. "Place hasn't changed a bit."

Buddy settled into his own chair. It creaked under his weight.

"It's been a while."

"Thirteen years."

Hunter moved his gaze over the room. His Little League championship trophy was gone, as was the picture that had sat front and, center on his dad's desk, of the two of them with the prizewinning fish at the Tarpon Rodeo. He scanned the shelves and walls, taking a quick, mental inventory.

He returned his gaze to the other man. "You've done some redecorating. Looks like you removed every trace of my existence."

"You left us, Hunter."

"Did I? Maybe I don't see it that way."

"Don't you ever get tired of the same old story, bro?"

Hunter twisted in his seat. The way Matt stood in the doorway, as if he owned the place, raised Hunter's hackles. "You're just in time for our little family reunion."

"Lucky me," Matt murmured.

"Hunter says he's here about the St. Claire investigation."

"That so?" Matt ambled in, stopping in front of the desk. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against its edge.

"I walked Sarah around five forty-five, we took our usual route. Saw nothing out of the ordinary."

"And what's your usual route?"

"Walton to Main, around the square and back." He paused, then continued. "I was thinking, she…the victim, couldn't have been there yet. Because Sarah would have gone nuts. The way she did later."

"Why didn't you tell us this last night?" Matt asked.

"You didn't ask. And I didn't think of it until today."

Matt inclined his head. "Actually, it's fortuitous you dropped by. We had a couple more questions for you."

"Questions for me?" He shifted his gaze between the two men. "All right. Shoot."

"Did you know the victim?"

"No."

"Never heard the name Elaine St. Claire before?"

"Before last night, never."

"Where were you yesterday, between four in the afternoon and when you came to find us at Gallagher's?"

"Is that when she died?"

"Answer the question, please."

"You're kidding." He could tell by their expressions that they weren't. "Am I a suspect?"

"Standard investigative procedure. You found the body, that automatically makes you a suspect."

He got to his feet. "This is bullshit."

"Sit down, son," Buddy murmured, sending an irritated glance at Matt. "Answer the question. Where were you yesterday between the hours of four and eight?"

"I was working. Alone. Sarah was with me. Seems to me she should make a great alibi. She's certainly more loyal than most humans. Present company included."

"Other than taking Sarah for a walk, did you go out at all?"

"No."

"On the walk, did you speak with anyone?"

Hunter thought a moment. "No."

"Did anyone call during that time, someone who could sub-stantiate your being home."

Again Hunter replied in the negative. "But that doesn't make me a killer, now, does it?"

"But it doesn't rule you out either."

Hunter longed to wipe the smug expression off his brother's face. "Can I go now?"

"Not quite yet." Matt glanced at his father, then back at Hunter. "You know how she died, Hunter?"

"Obviously not."

"A sharp or jagged instrument was repeatedly inserted-jammed really-into her vaginal canal." Hunter went cold. "Oh, Christ."

"She bled to death from internal wounds. It was an excruciating, punishing death."

Buddy stepped in. "Do you have any idea who might have been capable of such a crime?"

"A psychopath."

"You got a name to go with that personality, bro?"

Hunter stiffened. "I wish I did."

"Why's that?" Buddy asked.

Hunter glanced at his father. "Obviously, so you could catch him before he hurts anyone else."

"Noble," Matt murmured. "What a guy."

Hunter stood and met his brother's gaze evenly. "You got a problem with me, Matt? This town too small for the two of us?"

"And here I thought I was the cowboy in the family."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I have a problem with disloyalty. And with cowards." Hunter laughed without humor, throat tight. "And you see me as both."

"I do."

At times like this, he saw his brother so clearly. He'd always had to be right. Have the last word, have it his way. He had demanded the lion's share of their parents' attention. Adoration from the girls. He couldn't be simply part of the team, he'd had to be the star.

Hunter hadn't required adulation. He had been happy to let his twin have it.

But he had drawn the line when his brother had wanted him to stop thinking for himself. Matt had expected his brother to like who and what he did, to think like him. No, Hunter corrected, not expected. Required it of him. Of anyone who remained in his circle.

"You're not engaging me in this, Matt. There's no point in it."

"Like I said, bro, a disloyal coward."

"Because I won't fight with you?" Hunter demanded. "Or because I left, went on with my life? Because I didn't give one hundred percent loyalty to the great Matt Stevens? Is that it?"

"Boys-"

That one deeply uttered word shattered Hunter's veneer of control; anger burst through, white hot, blinding. Memories with it. His father had intoned that warning a million times growing up, from as early as Hunter could remember.

Only then, he had been one of them.

"You hate that I can think for myself, don't you, Matt? I'm not your dutiful little soldier and that makes you crazy."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, bro."

"If you tried leaving your personal oyster shell, you would have realized you're not the be all and end all, Sheriff Stevens. But then, maybe that's why you never did."

Angry color flooded Matt's face. "You were always jealous of me. You still are. Because I got the girl."

"Leave Avery out of this."

"She's always been a part of it. You couldn't handle that it was me she wanted, not you."

Hunter met his eyes. "Wanted you? If that's so, where's she been all these years? Seems to me she left you behind."

Matt took a step toward him. Hunter curled his hands into fists, ready to throw the first punch. Eager.

Buddy stepped between them before he could. "Thanks for coming in, Hunter. We'll be in touch."