Buddy broke the silence, tone soft. "If Trudy Pruitt had this supposed proof, why did she wait until now, until you, to bring it forward?"

Avery turned back to him. She didn't have an answer for that. "She never…came to you with-"

"Of course she did. And the district attorney. And the sheriff's department. And anyone else who would listen. She had nothing, not one scrap of evidence, to support her claim of her sons' innocence."

"I have a favor to ask, Buddy. For my own peace of mind, may I look at your files of the Waguespack murder investigation?"

"Avery-"

"She called Dad a liar, Buddy. And a murderer. Why would she do that?"

"Your daddy was the most honest, upright man I've ever known. I was proud to call him my friend."

"Then you must understand. I feel like I have to uphold his honor. Prove him innocent."

Buddy leaned forward. "Innocent to who, Avery?"

Not liking the answer, she curled her hands into fists. "Why did he keep that box of newspaper clippings, Buddy? Why did he kill himself?"

Buddy sighed heavily and stood. He crossed to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "If it'll help you, baby girl, of course you can look at the files. Just let me tell Lilah to go on to the service without me."

CHAPTER 35

Three hours later, Avery thanked Buddy for his help. "I'm sorry I messed up your Sunday," she said.

"You couldn't, baby girl." He kissed her cheek. "Do you feel better now?"

She didn't. She lied.

The information in the file should have reassured her. Everything appeared to be in order. At 10:30 p.m. on the night of June 18th, 1988, Pat Greene, one of Buddy's deputies, called in, requesting assistance. Making rounds, he had seen a couple of young men fleeing Sallie Waguespack's home. He'd investigated and found the woman murdered.

From the deputy's description of them, Buddy had suspected the Pruitt boys. Donny and Dylan, who had been in trouble since they were old enough to steal their first candy bar, had been brought in on suspicion of dealing just the week before. The evidence hadn't supported charges, but it had only been a matter of time.

When Buddy and Pat had found the two young men, Donny and Dylan were high. When confronted, the boys had initiated a shoot-out and were killed. After the fact, the murder weapon was found in the drainage ditch behind their trailer, Donny's prints on it.

The CSPD had launched a full investigation, discovering that Donny and Dylan had been frequenting the bar where Sallie was a cocktail waitress. Drugs had been found in Sallie's house and the Pruitt boys' apartment.

It had been determined that the boys had been dealing; Sallie Waguespack had been buying. A drug deal gone bad, they'd figured. The woman had owed them money or threatened them with the cops. One witness had claimed the three had been sleeping together, further complicating the scenario. Jealousy may have been a motive. Certainly, from the way she had been killed-hacked at with a kitchen knife-it had been a crime of passion.

Avery stopped at Buddy's office door and looked back at him. "Did you ever doubt Donny and Dylan Pruitt's guilt?" she asked. "Even for a moment?"

"Never." He ran a hand over his face, looking every one of his sixty-six years. "The murder weapon was found behind their trailer, Donny's prints on it. Sallie Waguespack's blood was found on the bottom of Dylan's shoe. Drugs were involved. We had Pat Greene, who placed them at the scene. Physical and circumstantial evidence. Can't get a much cleaner case than that."

He was right about that. She knew enough about police work to understand the process, from arrest to prosecution.

She started through the door, then stopped and turned back once more. "I didn't see an autopsy report."

His face puckered with confusion. "It should be there."

"It wasn't."

He shuffled through the folder, then returned his gaze to hers. "It's misfiled. I'll look around, give you a call when I locate it."

"Thanks, Buddy." She forced a smile. "Enjoy the rest of your day off."

Avery left the CSPD and minutes later found herself at Hunter's door. Without pausing to question her own motivation, she rapped on the frame.

Sarah began to bark, the puppies to yip. Hunter appeared at the door. He looked tired. Disheveled. Irritated at having been disturbed.

"You were working," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What do you want, Avery?"

She hesitated, put off by his surliness. "May I come in?"

He pushed opened the screen, moved aside. She stepped into the kitchen-and was immediately surrounded by squirming puppies. Sarah stood by her master's side, eyes pinned on Avery.

"They're getting big," Avery murmured. She squatted and the puppies charged her, licking her hands, butting each other out of the way. "They're so cute."

"If there's a point to your visit I'd appreciate your getting to it."

Her cheeks heated. She straightened. Met his eyes. "Did you hear what happened?"

"You mean Trudy Pruitt's murder?"

"Yes. And that I was there."

"I heard." His mouth thinned. "Even those of us who reside outside the chosen circle are part of the gossip chain."

"Never mind. You're such an asshole." She swung around to go. "I'm sorry I came here."

He caught her arm. "Why did you, Avery? Why do you keep coming around?"

"Let go of me."

He tightened his grip. "You came for something. What do you want from me?"

She didn't know, dammit. She tilted up her chin, furious. At herself. At him. "I don't want anything from you, Hunter. Maybe I'm here because unlike everyone else, I'm not willing to give up on you. Maybe I still see something in you that everyone else has forgotten."

"Bullshit."

"Believe what you want." She yanked her arm free, took a step toward the door.

He blocked her path. "I'd pegged you for being more honest than this, Avery. You want something from me. Spit it out."

"Stop it, Hunter. Let me go."

He moved closer, crowding her. "Why not run to Matt? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

He put a nasty emphasis on the last. She wanted to slap him. "Shut up."

He took another step forward; she back. She met the wall. "What would you give to have your father back, Avery?"

His question took her by surprise. Disarmed, she met his eyes. "Anything. I'd give anything."

"What do you want, Avery?" he asked again. He cupped her face in his palms. "Do you want me to tell you he loved you? Do you want me to tell you it's not your fault? Absolve you of guilt? Is that why you're-"

"Yes!" she cried. "I want to wake up to discover this has all been a nightmare. I want to have taken my father's call that last day…I want to stop hating…myself for…I want-"

The words stuck in her throat; she brought her hands to his chest. Curled her trembling fingers into his soft T-shirt. "I want what I can't have. I want my father back."

For long seconds, he gazed at her, expression dark with some strong emotion. Finally, he swore and dragged in a shaky breath. "He loved you, Avery. More than anything. Every time we were together, he talked about you. How proud he was of you. Proud that you'd had the guts to follow your dreams. That you'd done so well. He took pride in your courage. Your strength of will."

A cry slipped past her lips. One of relief. Of an immeasurably sweet release from pain. Tears flooded her eyes.

"His suicide, it wasn't about you, Avery," he went on. "He was at peace with where you were in your life."

He dropped his hands, stepped back. "Go on. Get out of here. You got what you wanted. I can't give you anything else."

She hesitated, reached a hand out. Laid it on his forearm. "Hunter?" He met her eyes. "Thank you."

He didn't reply. She dragged her hand down to his, laced their fingers. Slowly, deliberately, she brought his hand to her mouth, opened it and pressed a kiss to his palm.