She vaguely recalled fights, and somebody getting caught smoking pot in the bathroom of the high school. She had been insulated from it all, she realized. In her warm, protected womb.

"It must have been difficult for you," she said.

"Folks were scared. And angry. Real angry. The town was turning into a place they didn't like. Naturally they turned their anger on me."

"They felt you weren't doing enough."

It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway. "I was in over my head, no doubt about it. Didn't have the manpower or the experience to deal with the increased crime rate. Hell, our specialty had been traffic violations, the occasional barroom brawl and sticky-fingered kids shoplifting bubble gum from the five-and-dime. Then Sallie Waguespack was killed."

He returned to his chair and sank heavily onto it. "This town went ballistic. The murder was grisly. She was young, pretty and had her whole life ahead of her. Her killers were high on drugs. There's just nothing easy about that scenario." "Why'd they kill her, Buddy?"

"We don't know. We suspect the motive was robbery but-" "But," she prodded.

"Like I said, she was young and pretty. And wild. They ran in the same crowd, frequented the same kinds of places. The Pruitt boys knew her. Could have been that one-or both-of them were romantically involved with her. Maybe they fought. Maybe she tried to break it off. Won't know any of that for sure, but what I do know is, the evidence against them was rock solid."

He fell silent. She thought a moment, going over the things he had told her, trying to find where her father fit in. If he fit in. "What happened then, Buddy?"

He blinked. "We closed the case."

"Not that, I mean with the community. The crime rate."

"Things quieted down, they always do. Some good came of Sal-lie's death. People stopped taking the community, their quality of life, for granted. They realized that safety and a community spirit were worth working for. People started watching out for each other. Caring more. Service groups formed to help those in need. Drug awareness began being taught in the schools. As did sex education. Counseling was provided for those in need. Instead of condemning people in crisis, we began to offer help. The citizens voted to increase my budget and I put more officers on the street. The crime rate began to fall."

"My first thought upon driving into town was how unchanged Cypress Springs seemed."

"A lot of effort has gone into maintaining that." He smiled. "Would you believe, tourism has become our number one industry? Lots of day-trippers, people on their way to and from St. Fran-cisville. They come to see our pretty, old-time town."

She wondered if that was a hint of cynicism she heard in his voice.

"What about the canning plant?"

"Burned a couple years back. Old Dixie was in financial difficulty and didn't rebuild. Without job opportunities, those without other ties to Cypress Springs moved. If you're looking for an apartment, there're plenty of vacancies."

Avery smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Old Dixie went belly-up last year. The burned-out hulk's for sale. Myself, I can't see anyone buying it. It's a stinking eyesore on the countryside. And I mean that literally."

She arched an eyebrow in question and he laughed without humor. "Just wait. You haven't been here long enough to know what I'm talking about. When conditions are just right-the hu-midity's high, the temperature's warm and the wind's blowing briskly from the south, the sour smell of the plant inundates Cypress Springs. Folks close their windows and stay inside. Even so, it's damn hard to ignore."

"Makes it hard to forget, too, I'll bet." Avery wrinkled her nose. "Does the town have any recourse?"

"Nope, company's Chapter 7." He leaned toward her. "Can't squeeze blood out of a turnip. Waste of time to try."

Avery fell silent a moment, then looked at Buddy, returning to the original reason for her visit. "Why did Dad clip and save all these articles, all these years, Buddy?"

"Don't know, baby girl. I just don't know."

"Am I interrupting?" Matt asked from behind her.

Avery turned. Matt stood in the doorway, looking official in his sheriff's department uniform. "What're you doing here, son?"

"Do I need a reason to pop in to see my old man?"

"Course not." Buddy glanced at his watch. "But it's past lunch and the middle of a workday."

Matt shifted his gaze to hers. "You see why I chose the sheriff's department over the CSPD? He'd have been all over me, all day." Buddy snorted. "Right. Nobody needs to sit on top of you and you know it. You practically breathe that job." He wagged a finger at his son. "Truth be told, I wouldn't have had you work for me- I'd never have gotten a moment's peace."

"Slacker." Matt strode into the room, stopping behind Avery's chair. "You have a woman call in a missing person last week?" he asked his dad.

Buddy's expression tensed. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Just got off the phone with her. She thinks you're not doing anything on the case, asked the sheriff's department to check it out."

The older man leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what she expects. I've done everything I can do."

"Figured as much. Had to ask anyway."

Avery moved her gaze between the two men. "Do I need to go?"

"You're okay." Matt laid a hand on her shoulder. "In fact, you're an investigative reporter, you give us your take on this. Dad?"

Buddy nodded and took over. "I got a call last week from a woman who said her boyfriend contacted her by cell phone from just outside Cypress Springs. He told her he broke down and was going to call a service station for a tow. She never heard from him again."

"Where was he heading?" she asked.

"To St. Francisville. Coming from a meeting in Clinton."

"Why?"

"Business. Meeting with a client. He was in advertising."

"Go on."

"I spoke with every service station within twenty miles. Nobody got a call. I asked around town, put up flyers, haven't gotten a nibble. I told her that."

Matt moved around her chair and perched on the edge of the desk, facing her. "So, what do you think? She's screaming foul play."

"So where's the body?" Avery asked. "Where's the car?"

"And not any car. A Mercedes. Tough to lose one of those around here." Matt pursed his lips. "But why would this woman lie?"

"We see a lot of that in journalism. Everybody wants their fifteen minutes of fame. To feel important. Or in this woman's case, maybe to rationalize why her boyfriend hasn't called."

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly time for her meeting at Gallagher's. She stood. "I've got to go. Danny Gallagher is expecting me in at two." She looked at Buddy. "Thanks for taking all this time to talk to me, I appreciate it."

"If something comes to mind, I'll let you know." He came around the desk and kissed her cheek. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I always am."

"Good girl."

Matt touched her arm. "I'll walk you out."

They exited the station and stepped into the bright midday sun. Avery dug her sunglasses out of her handbag. She slipped them on and looked up to find him gazing at her.

"What were you and Dad talking about?"

"A box of newspaper clippings I found in Dad's closet. They were all concerning the same event, the Sallie Waguespack murder."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"It doesn't?"

"That's the story that blew this little burg wide open."

"I hardly remembered it until I read those clippings today."

"Because of Dad, I lived it." He grimaced. "The night of the murder, I heard him with Mom. He was…crying. It's the only time I ever heard him cry."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I feel like such an ostrich. First Dad, now learning this. I wonder-" She bit the words back and shook her head. "I need to go. Danny's expecting-"