Chapter 5

Roy Peters closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

It was silent except for the rush of water draining from his shower head. The best sound in the world, if you asked him.

His small cabin was built on the outskirts of town with his own two hands roughly five years ago, immediately following his return from the army. His head was full of memories, and with it came the strong desire to keep those memories from doing him in.

He had taken up with the loveliest girl in town, a gem, Natalie Reed. He swept her off her feet in an instant, grateful to have someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life. Love, he thought, was going to keep him going strong. It would also serve to keep those memories of a life gone by far at bay.

They married within months, far too wrapped up in their hearts and hopes to consider what the future could hold for them. He'd took on a job as a police officer at the local station, and she got a part-time job at the bakery.

He built this cabin the following summer to house them and their future family.

And then, in an instant, their blessed lives took a dramatic turn, from which he'd never recover.

They'd fought, and although it was a rarity, it was one for the books, as his mother would have said, were she still living. She left for her folks’ house out of town, and when she was going, he told her he was glad. “Peace,” he had shouted at her angrily as she hauled her bag out to her truck. “Finally!”

The next morning, before the sun had risen over the lake, he heard a distinct knock at the door. He thought it was her, hoped that it was, as he stumbled shirtless to the door to allow her re-entry and ask for forgiveness.

But the officer at the door, a grave look on his face, said it all. His precious wife was gone forever.

Roy had remained angry ever since.

He reached for the knobs and turned off the shower abruptly. Those memories were getting harder to suppress.

* * *

That afternoon, Jenny took Isabelle out to run errands, a diversion that would get them out of the house for a much-needed change of scenery. They'd existed mostly in an awkward silence since they'd returned to the house, and Jenny was anxious to make some progress with the relationship.

Isabelle, as always, remained quiet. She followed Jenny like a nervous shadow, staying close but not willing to risk looking like she belonged to the strange woman.

Jenny was fine with the child's shadow-like strategies. It was the looks she was getting from the other town folk that made her feel uneasy. They stared openly and whispered among themselves, obviously finding her a good source of gossip. Not that she wouldn't have had something to say if she had been in their shoes.

Joey was well-known for his misadventures. She could only imagine what they expected her to be like.

It was times like this that she craved the anonymity of the city.

The faces that peered from shop doorways and from passing cars were unfamiliar. Like Jenny, most of her childhood friends had left Ombrea as soon as it was humanly possible.

Chloe and Joey were two of the rare few who stayed behind, content with all the small town had to offer and happy to remain isolated.

“Can we be done now?”

Isabelle spoke softly for the first time since they'd left the safety of the car behind.

“Almost.”

Willing herself not to lose her resolve now, Jenny pushed on. Isabelle came quietly along behind her.

“Is there nothing you want to get?”

Isabelle shook her head rapidly, and her bottom lip began to tremble. Before Jenny knew it, tears were streaming from the child's eyes. It was agonizing to watch, and Jenny's heart ached for her little niece.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

She took Isabelle into her arms awkwardly. Isabelle remained stiff in her aunt’s embrace, sobbing.

“It's going to be okay.”

“I know,” Isabelle said defensively , breaking free of Jenny's arms. “I wasn’t even crying.”

Isabelle’s tough attitude reminded Jenny of Joey at that age, broken but not wanting to display his vulnerability. Even when they learned their parents had been killed, he didn’t shed a public tear. He just holed himself up in his battered, old treehouse for days, as if his anger and grief were something he had to keep secret.

“Okay. I didn't see anything.”

She turned back to the street and they continued on their way, her shadow keeping pace behind her.

* * *

Roy was chopping logs in front of his cabin when he heard the screech of tires coming down the back road.

He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, his muscles rippling in the mid-day sun. As the noise grew closer, he reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it on. It clung tightly to the sheen of sweat across his chest.

A lone police car rolled into view and Roy slammed the ax down into the nearest log, anger and frustration taking hold. This was the last person he wanted to see.

Roy could tell from the look on Chief Cartright's face that the feeling was mutual. Cartright threw his car door shut with a force that was clearly meant to make a statement.

“You must be lost,” Roy shouted across to him, wiping a tuft of his dark, brown hair away from his forehead. “You're not welcome here.”

“You better watch your mouth, boy.”

Cartright gave a cautious glance to the ax as he approached, his face twisted in a vicious sneer.

“I hear you've been making a pest of yourself again.”

Joey’s sister, he thought, wincing. Of course, she'd see to it that he and his plan to prove her brother’s innocence were shut down.

“You must have heard wrong.”

“Is that so?”

Cartright let out a snort.

“Funny how trouble just seems to find you in this town, Roy.”

“That's not how I see it.”

“That doesn't matter, boy. You've had one warning already about spreading this ridiculous theory of yours. You'd be smart to get a new hobby.”

“Or what?”

Roy reached out his hand and gripped the handle of the ax. He smiled thinly as Cartright's eyes passed from the sharp weapon and back to his with a fleeting look of apprehension.

“You don’t want to know what happens if I have to come back and speak to you again.”

“You'll have to forgive me if I’m not shaking in my boots, Chief.”

Cartright smirked, and Roy considered just how much damage it would do if he went for the older man with his fists raised. He could have him on the floor in an instant, perhaps aiming a well-placed boot to the Chief's ribs.

It wouldn't make him or his band of fools any less corrupt, but it would be satisfying as hell to wipe that smirk from his ugly face.

“Just keep your ridiculous notions to yourself. No one wants to help Joey Dale.He’s a scumbag”

Cartright turned his back and started back to his car.

“Or you could save us all some time and effort and just release the innocent man from jail,” Roy called out to him.

He watched Cartright's shoulders tense as he halted his step.

He had hit a nerve.

Without turning back, Cartright responded, “Or you could just let it go, boy.”

Roy didn't give the Chief the benefit of a retort. He simply watched as the officer shifted himself into the car and pulled the door shut behind him. The car's tires scattered dirt and gravel as he disappeared back down the beaten track to the main road.

Roy picked up his ax once more and gave it an almighty swing into the closest log. To hell with them all, he thought.