Deadly Revenge (Pearl River #3)

Chapter 24

24

“What’s on Summerlin Ridge?” Max asked when Jenna ended her call.

“Not a what, a who—Mr. Darby, the old man I talked to at Pete’s Diner today.”

He nodded.

“He wouldn’t answer my questions. I definitely get the sense he knows something, though.”

“Maybe you need to pass this along to Alex.”

“That’s what I just did, and she gave it back to me. Alex thinks I can get more out of him than anyone else.”

He laughed. “She’s probably right—if anyone can get someone to talk, it’d be you.”

“She wants me to go today.”

He checked his watch. “It’s four thirty.”

“I know. Want to tag along? Darby’s place is about ten miles from here, and it shouldn’t take long, but I’m good to go by myself if you have something else you need to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How about your house? Don’t you want to process it first?”

“It’s not going anywhere. Besides I don’t think we’ll find any prints.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And I’ll let you drive again so your male ego isn’t bruised.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you to know my ego doesn’t bruise that easily—I’m not one of those control freaks who won’t let anyone else behind the wheel.”

Jenna held up her finger. “Wait a minute and let me run that through my baloney meter.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Seriously, I’ll take you if you’ll let me camp out at your house tonight so I can help dust for prints.”

“We’ll see.”

He knew what that meant, but evidently she’d forgotten how stubborn he could be too. The problem was, Max wasn’t 100 percent certain there’d been an intruder, but if there had been, he wanted to be there for her. “Jenna, the intruder could return.”

“So you’re going to stay here forever?”

“Of course not, but ...” He lifted his hands in surrender. Not that he wouldn’t give it another shot later. “You win.”

“Glad that’s settled,” Jenna said. “Oh, Alex is requesting photos of Sebastian from the prison and Chatt PD. She’s going to distribute them in the morning.”

“Good deal.”

She called the 911 office and got Darby’s address, and he put it in his GPS. “You’ll tell me if it tries to take me the long way, right?”

“Absolutely.”

The ten miles took them half an hour on the narrow, crooked roads. “What do you do if you meet someone?” he asked as they rounded yet another narrow curve.

Jenna chuckled. “Pray. Especially that they aren’t drinking ... or texting.”

Max had never spent any time in Russell County and had no idea it was so picturesque. Once or twice he slowed just to admire the mountains when they came to the occasional break in the trees. Layers and layers of mountains stretched as far as the eye could see. He risked a glance at Jenna. “Why did you ever leave here?”

“I went to Chattanooga for college,” she said. “And that’s where I was born.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“My dad was raised here, but he moved to Chattanooga after he married my mom. When she died, he came back home. He thought about returning to Chattanooga when I was twelve, but then his dad died in an accident and Granna needed help—she was in the accident with my grandfather. He also stayed to fight the dam and reservoir that took the family farm. At least that’s what Granna told me. Dad never tells me anything.”

“He raised you?”

“With Granna’s and Sam’s help. And don’t forget to go by and see her.”

“I won’t. So, when you finished college, you became a cop. Was it something you always wanted to be?”

“Not really. I took a criminal justice class and that hooked me. Then the Chattanooga Police Department ran a hiring campaign, and I joined up.”

Funny how they’d worked together for over a year, but they’d never discussed why she became a cop.

“How about you?” she asked.

He sat a little straighter. “I’m a third-generation cop. My dad and grandfather both were Nashville officers. My grandfather was a patrol cop, and Dad worked his way up to captain.”

“Why didn’t you become a Nashville policeman?”

“I was afraid of people thinking I got preferential treatment because he was a captain ... besides, one Maxwell Anderson in Nashville PD is enough.”

She turned toward him. “You’re a junior?”

Max laughed. “No. They gave me Dad’s first name and my grandfather’s middle—Maxwell James Anderson.” Something Jenna said raised questions in his mind. “You said your dad was against the dam being built. I’m getting the impression the dam created a lot of controversy.”

“That would be understating it. The surveyors were threatened, one was even shot at. But it didn’t stop the dam from being built.”

“We need to research those years in the newspaper archives.”

“Turn right in 600 feet,” the GPS intoned.

A weathered mailbox came into view, but with no number on it. Max peered at the dense overgrowth that encroached the road and turned to Jenna. “Do you see a drive?”

“Not yet.” She stared at the property. “See if the drive is around the curve.”

Max eased the truck down the road.

“There it is.” Jenna pointed to a lane barely wide enough for their vehicle. “Something tells me that when we get to the house, I better go to the door. He might not talk to us at all if he sees you.”

“You say he wasn’t always this way?”

“Not when I was a little girl. He was really kind and friendly.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “He used to hunt with my dad and uncle, and I have a memory of them being worried about him becoming a hermit.”

Max turned into the gravel drive and braked a hundred feet in. A six-foot gate connected to an equally tall fence blocked them. “He’s serious about no one talking to him.”

“I thought everyone was exaggerating.” Jenna opened her door. “Let me see if I can open it.”

He lowered his window as Jenna climbed out of the truck and walked to the wrought-iron gate. “Locked,” she called. “I’m going to see how far this fence goes.”

Surely not all the way around his property—it’d cost a fortune. Max climbed out of the truck. “I’ll go with you.”

She opened her mouth to say something but instead nodded. “Suit yourself.”

It wasn’t long before the metal fence turned to barbed wire. “We can crawl through here.”

He reached to hold the top wire up.

“Wait! It may be hot.”

Max didn’t see any conductors. “How can you tell?”

“Give me a sec.” Jenna pulled up a blade of grass and laid it on the wire. She slowly moved the grass over the wire, stopping when her hand was a couple of inches from the wire. She jerked her hand back. “Yep, it’s hot, all right, but I think I can scoot under it.”

“Hold on a minute.” He picked up a dead limb and used it to lift the bottom wire. “Now.”

She gave him a thumbs-up. “Good thinking.”

Jenna lay on her back and wiggled under the wire. Once she was on the other side, she held it up for him.

“Why do you think he’s so paranoid?” Max asked.

“Not a clue. And I don’t think anyone in town knows either—it’s a great mystery why he became a hermit.”

Max eyed the dense woods. “He picked a good place for it.”

They worked their way back to the drive. It appeared to be as curvy as the road they had driven to get here.

“How far?”

“Not sure—never been to his house. But it can’t be that far.” She pointed to power lines. “I doubt the power company would run lines more than a quarter of a mile from the road.”

That was encouraging, and after almost ten minutes of walking they rounded a curve and a modest white clapboard house came into view. “Good,” Max said. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Why don’t you stay here while I approach the house?”

“I don’t—”

The unmistakable crack of a rifle dropped them both to the ground.