In Silence

CHAPTER 33

Magnolia Acres trailer park was located on the southern boundary of Cypress Springs, just outside the incorporated area. Avery turned into the park, noting that the safety light at its entrance was burned out.

Or had been shot out by kids with BB guns, she thought, seeing that all the park's safety lights were dark.

She made her way slowly down the street, straining to make out the numbers. Even the dark couldn't soften the forlorn, abandoned look of the area. The only thing the neighborhood had going for it, Avery thought, was the large lot given each residence. But even those had a quality of runaway disrepair about them. The weeds were winning.

She found number 12 and parked in front. Avery climbed out. Music came from several directions: rap, rock and country. From an adjacent trailer came the sound of a couple fighting. A child crying.

Avery slammed the car door and started toward the trailer, scan-ning the area as she did, noting details. Dead flowers in the single window box. A pitiable attempt at a garden: a few shrubs that badly need trimming, weeds, a rock border, half overgrown. Three steps led up to the front door. A concrete frog sat on the top step.

She neared the door, saw that it stood slightly ajar. Light spilled from inside. As did the smell of fried food.

She climbed the steps, knocked on the door and it swung open. "Mrs. Pruitt," she called. "It's Avery Chauvin."

No answer. She knocked and called out again, this time more loudly.

Again, only silence answered.

She stepped inside. The place was in a shambles. Furniture overturned, newspapers and take-out boxes strewn about, lamp on its side on the floor, light flickering. Her gaze landed on a dark smear across the back wall.

Avery frowned and started toward it. A radio in the other room played the classic "Strangers in the Night." Avery laughed nervously at how weirdly appropriate that was.

She reached the back wall. She squinted at the stain, touched it. It was wet. She turned her hand over. And red.

With a growing sense of horror, Avery turned slowly to her left. Through the doorway to the kitchen she saw a woman stretched out on the floor, back to Avery.

"Mrs. Pruitt?"

Swallowing hard, she crept forward. She reached the woman. Squatted beside her. Stretched out a hand. Touched her shoulder.

The woman rolled onto her back. The woman's eyes were open but it was her mouth that drew Avery's gaze-blood-soaked, grotesquely stretched.

With a cry, Avery scrambled backward. She slipped on the wet floor, lost her balance, landing on her behind. Blood, she realized, gazing down at herself. She had slipped in it, splattering herself, smearing it across the floor.

A sound drew her gaze. The woman blinked. Her mouth moved.

She was alive, Avery realized. She was trying to speak.

Avery righted herself and crept closer. Heart thundering, she knelt beside her, bent her head toward the woman's. A small sound escaped her-little more than a gurgle of air.

"What?" Avery asked, searching her gaze. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Her mouth moved again. She inched her hand to Avery's, fingers clawing.

From the front room came the sound of footsteps. Avery froze. She swung her gaze to the doorway, heart thundering.

The person who had done this could still be in the house.

The sound came again. Terrified, she jumped to her feet. She looked wildly around her. No back door. Small window above the sink.

No way out.

Her gaze landed on the phone. She lunged for it.

"Police!"

Avery whirled around and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. Her cry of relief stuck on her tongue.

"Get your hands up," the sheriff's deputy said, voice steely. She obeyed the order. Keeping his weapon trained on her, he bent and checked the woman's pulse.

"She's alive," Avery said, fighting hysteria. "She was trying to tell me something. When I heard you, I thought you were the one…the one who did this."

He unhooked his radio, called the incident in and requested an ambulance, never taking his gaze or aim off her.

"Turn around. Hands on the wall."

She did as he ordered, the scream of sirens in the distance. Her bloody hands would leave marks on the wall, she thought, a cry rising in her throat.

The officer came up behind her. "Feet apart."

"You have the wrong idea. I found her this way." When she twisted to plead her case to his face, she found herself shoved flat against the wall, his hand between her shoulder blades. Gun to her head.

"Back off, Jones! Now!"

At the sound of Matt's voice, the deputy reacted instantly, dropping his hands, stepping back.

"Matt!" Avery cried. She ran to him, and he folded her in his arms.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?"

Avery clung to him, shaking. She managed a nod, eyes welling with tears. "The woman…is she…I thought…I heard a noise and-" She buried her face in his shoulder. "I thought whoever had done this, that he was still here."

He tightened his arms around her. "Deputy Jones?"

"Received a call from a neighbor. They heard a commotion. What sounded like a gunshot. When I arrived, I found the door open and interior ransacked. I called for assistance and made my way in here. I found the suspect kneeling over the victim."

"I found her this way!" Avery looked up at Matt. "The door was open…I called her name. She didn't answer, so I made my way in. I-"

The paramedics arrived then, interrupting her, shouting orders, pushing her and Matt toward the door. Behind them waited several more deputies, ready to process the scene the moment the paramedics gave the okay.

Holding her close to his side, Matt led her from the kitchen through the living room and outside. As they made their way out, her toe caught on the frog and it toppled into the garden. They descended the steps and crossed to two rickety lawn chairs set up around a kid's inflatable wading pool. Yellow crime scene tape had already been stretched around the perimeter of the trailer; a deputy stood sentinel, watching the group of neighbors who had come out to gawk.

"Sit," Matt said. "I have to go now. I need you to wait here. We're going to need to question you." He searched her expression. "Will you be all right?"

She nodded. "I'll be okay."

He squeezed her hands, then turned toward the deputy. "Make sure nobody bothers her. If she has any problems, come get me."

Avery watched him go, an intense sense of loss settling over her. She bit her bottom lip to keep from calling him back and sank onto the chair, the woven seat sagging dangerously.

"You all right?"

She glanced at the deputy, a baby-faced young man who hardly looked old enough to be out past ten, let alone to carry a weapon. She nodded. "The woman…is she Trudy Pruitt?"

The kid looked surprised by her question. And rightly so, she supposed, considering the circumstances. He answered anyway. "Uh-huh. Waitresses over at the Hard Eight."

The pool hall.

Avery hugged herself, the woman's image filling her head. Her vacant stare. Her slack mouth. The feel of her fingers clawing at Avery's.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, attempting to block out the images. They played on anyway. The woman's bloody mouth moving, the tiny puff of breath against her cheek. Blood, everywhere.

The paramedics came out. Avery opened her eyes at the sound. One looked her way. Their eyes met. In his she saw regret. Apology.

Her breath caught. She shifted her gaze. No stretcher.

They passed her. Climbed into the ambulance. Slammed the doors shut, the sound heavy. Final.

"Avery?"

She turned. Matt stood in the trailer doorway. She got to her feet; he started toward her.

"She didn't make it," she said when he reached her.

"No."

He caught her hands. "What are you doing here, Avery?"

She blinked, confused. "Pardon?"

"Tonight, what brought you here?"

"The woman, Trudy Pruitt. She said she had proof…about my father. And Sallie Waguespack."

His forehead creased. "Avery, sweetheart, you're not making any sense. Start at the beginning."

She drew in a deep breath, working to collect her jumbled thoughts. To fight past twin feelings of panic and confusion. "I need to sit."

He nodded and she did. He swung the second chair to face hers, then sat. He took out a small notepad. "Ready?"

She nodded. "The day of Dad's funeral I got an anonymous call. From a woman. She said that Dad had…gotten what he deserved. That I would, too. Then she hung up."

His expression tightened. "The caller you told me about the day McDougal's car was discovered in Tiller's pond?" She nodded "Go on."

"She called again just this afternoon. She said Dad had helped cover up a crime, a murder."

"Sallie Waguespack's."

"Yes. She called him a liar. And a murderer."

"And that woman was Trudy Pruitt."

"She said she had proof. She was…going to show it to me tonight."

"Did she tell you that her sons-"

"She said they didn't do it. That they were framed."

He passed a hand over his face. "Dammit, Avery…I wish you'd called me. Trudy Pruitt has been proclaiming her sons' innocence for fifteen years, to anyone and everyone who'd listen. Twice she hired investigators to review the evidence, neither investigator found anything to suggest killers other than Donny and Dylan.

"Trudy Pruitt was an alcoholic and drug abuser. Before and after her sons' deaths. She's spent her life between jail and rehab, a bitter and desperately unhappy woman."

Avery clasped her hands together. "Why my dad, Matt? Why me? Why did she choose…us?"

"Why does someone like Trudy Pruitt do anything? My guess is, your dad's wake and funeral stirred up memories. The overwhelming love and community support for you fed her bitterness. Unfortunately, we'll never know for sure what her motivations were, not now."

Because she was dead.

Murdered.

The full impact of that hit her with the force of a wrecking ball. Elaine St. Claire. Luke McDougal. Tom Lancaster. Now Trudy Pruitt.

"Who did this, Matt?"

"I don't know," he said grimly. "Not yet. I need your help, Avery."

"How? What can I do?"

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight. What you saw and heard. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you."

"All right." She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, then began with arriving at the trailer park right around 10:00 p.m. "I noticed how dark the park was, that all the safety lights were out."

He made a note. "Did you pass another car on your way in?"

She shook her head. "I found Mrs. Pruitt's trailer and climbed out. I could hear music coming from a number of directions."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I assumed other trailers. I heard the couple next door fighting, a child crying."

"Next door? You're certain?"

Avery glanced in the direction of the nearest trailer. A man, woman and child stood in the doorway, staring her way. "Fairly certain."

Again he made a notation on the pad. "What about inside Trudy Pruitt's?"

"I found the door partially open. I knocked and called out. When she didn't answer, I poked my head inside. Called out again." She closed her eyes, remembering. "The living room was a mess. At first I…I thought she was a slob. I didn't…until I saw the blood…on the back wall, I didn't realize anything was wrong." She pulled in a shaky breath. "And then I saw her. Lying there."

"Did you touch anything?"

She thought a moment. "The blood on the wall. That's when I realized what it was."

"Go on."

"I went to her, reached out and touched her shoulder. She rolled onto her back."

"She was on her side?"

"Yes. She tried to speak to me."

He straightened slightly. "What did she say?"

Avery's eyes welled with tears. "She never…I couldn't make anything out. I heard a noise…and got frightened. I thought maybe the killer was still in the house and now-" She struggled past the emotion welling up in her. "Her hand…she-"

Avery glanced down at her hands. Blood stained the tops of the fingers of her right hand. "Touched mine. Like she needed my at tention. Like she needed to tell me something important."

"It might have been nothing more than the need for human contact," he said gently. "She was dying, Avery."

"Now we'll never know."

"Other than Deputy Jones, did you hear anything?"

"The radio playing."

"And that's it?"

She couldn't tear her gaze from her bloodstained fingers. "Yes."

"If you think of anything else, call me. No matter how insignificant you might believe it is." He closed the notepad. "Promise?"

"I will."

"Avery?" She looked up. "Call me if you need anything else. Even just to talk. I'm here for you."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you, Matt."

"I'll have one of my deputies follow you home. Are you up to driving?"

She said she was and Matt called one of his deputies over, gave him directions, then accompanied her to her vehicle.

"I was by your house earlier. Dropped something off."

"For me?"

"In light of this, I wish to hell I…" He swore. "My timing stinks." He opened her car door. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She found what Matt had referred to on her front porch. Flowers. A beautiful spring bouquet. The card read:

Thinking of you and me. Dancing under the stars. Matt.

A hysterical-sounding laugh slipped past her lips. She laughed until she cried.