Pitch Black (11 page)

Just as they turned onto the road that led to her house, he broke the hush that had grown increasingly awkward.

“How is Ethan getting along?”

Was that a loaded question? “Fine.”

His gaze cut her way at her abrupt answer. He prompted, “Have any revealing conversations after the other night?”

“Is this Gabe the friend asking, or Sheriff Wyatt?”

“There’s a difference?”

She shot him a sharp look. “You know there is. Sheriff Wyatt is concerned with things like Ethan driving without a license and violating visiting hours at the hospital.” She pointedly avoided mentioning the murder investigation and the fact that just prior to Ethan’s escapade he’d overheard the autopsy results.

“And Gabe the friend?”

“Is worried about Ethan’s welfare and state of mind.”

“I am.” He glanced over at her. “I truly am. As well as his momma’s.”

“And Sheriff Wyatt?”

“Is chalking the entire incident up to extenuating circumstances.”

“Which are?” The words were out before she could stop them. Why did she always have to dig for the red-hot center of everything?

He cast her an incredulous glance, which looked even more dubious in the dim glow of the dash lights. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Extenuating, as in he suffered a trauma and is upset by his friend’s condition? Or extenuating, as in we’re almost dating?” Might as well get this over with.

He shook his head. “You’re one blunt woman.”

“Makes things easier that way.”

“Not always.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “I cut him a break because of the emotional stress he’s under.” He took his eyes from the road long enough to make her squirm. “I’d have done it for any one of those boys who were on that mountain.”

She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. But she said, “Good.”

After a moment, he said, “About Saturday night . . . I know Ethan needs you right now.”

“Gabe, seriously, you forget who you’re talking to.” She paused, then handed him the out he was too gentlemanly to ask for. “I know that unless you’ve got another good lead, you’re going to have to look long and hard at these boys, question them again. . . . It’s going to be uncomfortable enough as it is. We haven’t even gone out and people in this town are already talking. Let’s just leave this whole dating thing alone for the time being.”

He turned into her driveway, put the truck in park, then rested his hand on the top of her seatback.

She tried to ignore the closeness of his hand to the back of her neck—a total dating gesture. Before he could offer an argument, she reached back for her umbrella, forcing him to put his hand back on his side of the bucket seats. She picked up her tote and opened the door.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll be back to get you in the morning. Seven-thirty okay?”

“Probably not a good idea . . . considering. I’ll call Judy to pick me up.”

“Then give me your car keys and I’ll get your tire changed first thing.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Maddie, don’t take this to extremes. We can still—”

She reached across and put her index finger against his lips. “Don’t. Just leave it there.” The last thing she needed was for him to sweet-talk her out of her better judgment.

She closed the door and hurried to the front porch before she changed her mind.

Chapter 9

M
ADISON SAT ON THE SOFA, waiting for the eleven o’clock news to come on. Ethan moved like a cat behind her, going from the kitchen to his room upstairs. He’d been avoiding her since she’d gotten home. She’d been too preoccupied with worry that Julia Patterson was backing out of delivering specifics and her own mixed feelings over Gabe Wyatt to address it. But now that Ethan was headed to bed, it was her last chance.

“Is your shirt pressed for the funeral tomorrow?” She found the oblique line of attack to be much more successful when approaching touchy subjects. Honest as they’d promised to be with one another, Ethan was still a teenager.

He stopped, his hand lingering on the banister. He didn’t turn around when he said, “I don’t want to go.”

She nearly said,
Neither do I,
but caught the words just before they tumbled out of her mouth.

“Come back down here for a minute.” This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have shouting halfway up the stairs.

After a pause where she imagined he was rolling his eyes, he turned around and slowly clomped down the steps. “What?”

“Sit down.”

He walked around the sofa and sat at the opposite end. Then he focused all of his concentration on cracking his knuckles. It was a nervous habit that had all but disappeared over the past year.

“Why don’t you want to go?” she asked.

“It’s not like I knew Mr. McP that well.”

“But you’re friends with his stepson. It’d be a show of respect for that friendship to attend the funeral.”

“It’s not like Jordan will be there. I’d rather go to Knoxville and see him.” The emotion in his voice escalated as he spoke. “Everybody’s making such a big deal over Mr. McP. Nobody’s thinking about Jordan!”

“You and I are thinking about Jordan. And so are his mother and Todd. It’s just that this is the last time anyone will be able to do anything for Mr. McPherson. The temporary focus on him doesn’t mean they love Jordan any less.”

She tried to put herself in Ethan’s shoes. Jordan was the first real friend he’d had in a long time. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “And we’ll go see him on Sunday. You know that’s the only day he’s allowed visitors right now.

“But remember,” she added, “Mr. McPherson was very nice to include you. You should attend his service.”

Ethan’s eyes were cold when he looked at her. “I don’t think Mr. McP
was
nice. You never should have written the article saying he was all that.”

A chill rippled down her spine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t think he was nice to Jordan.”

Madison’s lungs froze, locking her breath inside. “In what way?”

“He kept trying to make Jordan be like him—sports, mountain climbing, all that crap. But Jordan wasn’t ever going to be like him. Pushing him to do stuff he didn’t like just made Jordan feel worse.”

“Jordan told you this?” At least her initial fear proved invalid. She supposed investigating child predators had colored her thinking.

Ethan gave a cynical snort. “He didn’t have to. If you’d only seen the way he was at home . . . ” He put his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands over his face. He sounded really, really tired when he said, “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to go on that trip, to see if I could figure out what was going on with them. I mean, yeah, I wanted to go camping and all, but it was a chance to watch Jordan and Mr. McP together.”

“Was there anything in particular that made you think there was something going on?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Just a bunch of little stuff.” He turned, resting his bent knee on the sofa between them. “Like Jordan always seemed half-scared when he was around his house—like he was really afraid to mess up. And one time he had this ugly bruise on the back of his neck. He tried to tell me he’d fallen on his skateboard and hit a curb.”

“And you don’t think he did?”

“Seriously? How do you hit your neck and make a bruise go halfway around? Besides, he
hated
that skateboard. He only rode it at all because Todd had given it to him and he didn’t want to hurt Todd’s feelings. He
never
rode it after that first week.”

“Maybe he was practicing in secret so he could show everyone he could do it.” Admittedly lame, but she wanted Ethan to think this through.

Ethan vehemently shook his head. “No. He would have told me. I taught him how to stay on it in the first place. And it wasn’t just that. He told me he broke his arm a year ago when he fell out of a tree he was climbing.”

“And?”

He looked at her like she was dim-witted. “M, can you imagine Jordan
ever
climbing a tree? He doesn’t even like to be outside! He
hates
dirt under his fingernails. I think that’s just the story they cooked up for the emergency room.”

She really couldn’t imagine Jordan climbing a tree—well, maybe if he was being chased by a particularly dangerous dog, certainly not just for fun.

“Ethan”—she held his gaze—“what you’re insinuating is a very serious accusation. You can’t go around saying things like this without proof.”

“M, Jordan was scared—not just regular I-don’t-like-to-ride-roller-coasters scared. He was scared of something at home.”

Madison inched closer to Ethan. She put a hand over his. Her stomach was one tight knot as things eased into focus. “Were you there when Mr. McPherson was killed?”

He jumped off the couch. “Hell, no!” He paced around in a tight circle. “You’re not understanding what I’m saying!”

“Then sit back down and tell me.”

He continued to move back and forth across the room, folding down the fingers of one hand with the other, cracking his knuckles again. “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you.”

“Ethan—”

“Promise!” He stopped dead and stared hard at her.

“I—I can’t. If you tell me something that will help solve this murder, I can’t lie to the authorities about it. We have to do what’s right.”

He pressed his lips together. “Then I can’t tell you.”

She got up and went to him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she forced the words out. “If you’re in any way involved in this, I have to know now. Nothing stays buried. No matter how deep. Sooner or later it works its way to the surface. It’ll be best if we’re proactive about this. We have to prepare.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with his death.” Ethan’s steady gaze spoke of a troubled spirit, but a clear conscience.

“Then
tell me what happened
!” She hoped her forceful tone would have the desired effect.

“I can’t. Not if you won’t promise.” He turned and hurried up the stairs with hard thudding footfalls.

The slamming of his bedroom door felt like a physical blow to her chest, the concussion reaching the very center of her heart.

THE NEXT MORNING
, Ethan didn’t offer more protests about attending the funeral. He came down for breakfast wearing black slacks and his dark blue dress shirt. He had his black tie in his hand. The last time he’d worn these clothes had been to the final hearing to approve the adoption.

“I don’t have to wear the tie to school, do I?”

He looked so old in these clothes, more young man than boy. She realized how little time they would have together before he went away to college. She was suddenly glad his homelessness had put him a year behind in school.

“No. I’ll bring it when I pick you up.” She set his breakfast on the table. “You’re going to have to ride the bus this morning. I had a flat last night and Judy’s picking me up for work.”

He groaned as he stuffed bacon in his mouth.

“It’s just one day. I don’t know what the big deal is—you ride it home every day anyhow.”

He didn’t explain; just kept eating.

“I called the service station,” she said. “My car should be ready in plenty of time for the funeral. I’ll pick you up at the main entrance at eleven. I already called school and told them you’d be leaving early.”

She heard the groaning engine of the school bus coming up the road. “Better hurry.”

He chugged his milk and grabbed his backpack off the floor by the kitchen door. “Bye.”

Madison walked to the front of the house and watched him get on the bus. She noticed he took a seat alone near the back.

Crossing her arms, she closed her eyes and prayed whatever he was keeping from her wasn’t going to bring his whole life crashing down around his ears.

AT TEN-FIFTY
Madison hadn’t heard from Mr. Whetzel, who was repairing her tire. Just as she was ready to pick up the phone and hurry him along, he moseyed into her office.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting worried.”

Mr. Whetzel was eighty if he was a day, and probably hadn’t had an urgent thought or hurried movement in his life. He smiled slowly, revealing teeth that proved his age. “Now Miz Wade, I told you I’d have your tire back in time. It’s all set to go.”

She was glad she’d already given him her credit card number, or she’d never get out of here in time to make the funeral. She gathered her purse and pushed back from her desk. “Thank you so much for rushing.” She barely kept the chuckle inside. “What was wrong with it? Nail?”

“Well, now,” he said with excruciating slowness. He leaned against the door frame, boxing her inside the office. “That’s a very interesting thing.” He took off his ball cap and rubbed a hand over his bald head. “Very interesting.”

She stood, fighting the urge to reach in to pull the words out.

Finally he went on, “There weren’t nothin’ wrong with that tire, ’cept all the air was gone out of it.”

“Really?”

“Yes’um. I checked it real careful.” He drawled out the words. “No reason a’tall for it to go flat as a pancake. Can only think maybe some mischief maker done let the air out.”

“Hmm.” Some mischief maker who’d stood looking in the front window of the paper afterward, perhaps? “Well, thank you so much.”

“Welcome.” He didn’t move from the doorway.

“Just put the charge on my credit card.” She made a slight move forward, thinking he’d get the hint.

“Oh, no charge. Didn’t do nothin’ but pump it back full of air . . . well, other ’n checking for a leak. That didn’t take no time.”

“That’s very generous of you. I really appreciate it.”

“Way I figure it, this world is too full of people sayin’ gimme. What we need is more helpin’ hands.”

She smiled. “You’re so right.” She took another step forward. “I’m sorry to rush, but I have to pick my son up at school before the funeral.”

He stepped into the hall. “Now there was a man who believed in helpin’ other folks. Terrible thing, what happened up there on that mountain. Terrible.”

“Yes.” She hurried past him. “Thank you again.” She was going to have to hurry, or they’d miss the funeral altogether.

Madison and Ethan arrived at the church just before eleven-thirty. The parking lot was already filled, so they parked on the street a block away. They signed the register in the vestibule of the Mountain View Baptist Church, then entered the sanctuary. It was filled to capacity. The people in the last pew on the right slid closer together so Madison and Ethan could squeeze in. Ethan sat on the aisle.

This was Madison’s first visit to the church, which was the largest and oldest in Buckeye. It seemed too bright for a funeral. Several tall, narrow, Gothic-arched stained-glass windows lined both sides of the sanctuary, spilling cheerful colors on the white plaster walls and dark walnut pews. Behind the carved walnut pulpit was a wall of shining brass pipes for the antique organ that sat directly in the center of the dais. The organist looked dwarfed in front of the massive double keyboard. Music thundered from the mouths of those pipes with bass notes so deep, Madison felt them in her chest.

She glanced at Ethan. He slipped his finger inside his collar and tugged. His gaze was fixed on the flower-draped casket sitting at the head of the aisle.

A thought occurred to her that should have long before now. She leaned close and whispered to Ethan, “Is this your first funeral?”

His eyes were downcast when he nodded.

She gave his hand a brief squeeze, releasing it quickly, before she embarrassed him.

The service began. The minister read scripture, and then dwelt on Steve McPherson’s love for his family, and his good works in the community. The only nod to the fact that Steve had been murdered was a buried statement about life cut tragically short by a violent hand.

A young woman Madison didn’t recognize climbed the steps, took the microphone, and sang what the reverend referred to as Steve’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” Her young voice was clear and beautiful and would have made a person cry even if they weren’t at a funeral.

When Madison glanced at Ethan, his head was bowed, his eyes closed.

Then the pastor introduced Todd, who wanted to say a few words about his father.

The room had been quiet, but now was completely hushed as Todd stepped up to the pulpit.

“You all know that Da-ad-”—his voice cracked and he cleared his throat—“loved the outdoors. And he loved taking me and my brother camping.”

A choked sob came from the front pew. Madison assumed it was Kate. This had to be tearing her heart out. The idea that funerals were for the comfort of the family suddenly seemed ludicrous.

Todd continued, his voice showing only a slight tremor. “And I just hope that everyone remembers that about him. Many of you know he got into more scrapes than most people, getting stuck on Mt. Hood, and that time we thought we’d have to send out a search party in Yosemite. And although I never imagined it would be quite like this, I always knew Dad would leave this world-”—he paused, taking a shuddering breath—“from a place of beauty made by God’s own hand.

“All I ask is every time you see something beautiful in nature, that you think of Steve McPherson and how he loved his family and the outdoors.”

He stepped away from the microphone.

The minister stood up from the chair at the side of the dais and shook Todd’s hand and clapped him on the back, bringing him into a half-embrace. For a moment Todd lingered with his head bowed on the minister’s shoulder. Then he descended the steps and took his seat.