The Demise (7 page)

Chapter 8

Julie remained silent as Matt rounded the walkway high atop Braxton’s water tower. She’d been observant but quiet for almost half an hour as he examined the large concrete area around the base of the tower and the surrounding patches of grass and dirt. Forensics had completed their work, though the yellow crime-scene tape still sequestered the area.

He’d spent a great deal of time studying partial footprints in that taped-off area. She watched from close behind him but said nothing; not even when she noted the distinctive, partial Reebok prints in the dusty Tennessee dirt. Her mind kicked into gear.
Reeboks. Belonging to a man—or a woman with unusually big feet? Note to self: observe the footwear of Lanham’s employees and other citizens of Braxton.

After studying the footprints, Matt stood up. He looked back at her, his eyes darting down at her shoes then back up again. She returned the gesture, checking out his footwear as well. Their eyes met again.

Now atop the tower, Matt moved toward the railing, resting his elbows on it as he looked out over the lights of Braxton. “What happened here, Peter Lanham?” he asked quietly. “Why would a multi-millionaire like you take a jump off this tower?”

Julie joined him at the railing, then eased herself down to sit on the edge of the narrow walkway, her feet dangling below her. “Or perhaps the better question—who could have hated you enough to
push
you, Mr. Lanham?”

Matt slid down, joining her. “You really think he was pushed?”

“I have no idea.”

“From all I’ve heard, he was quite a character.”

“That would be an understatement. Mr. Lanham was . . . stereotypical of most corporate CEOs in many ways.”

“How do you mean?”

“He was definitely the man in charge; no question about that. But he also traveled constantly. He loved the good life and wasn’t afraid to live it. He played golf and tennis, but his real love was his yacht.”

“Which is strange, because I don’t think of people in Tennessee owning yachts. There aren’t any large bodies of water around here, are there?”

“There are lots of lakes, but he often docked his boat in other ports.”

“Where’s the boat now?”

Her imagination took off, as she pictured herself sneaking onto the yacht at the marina west of town. What might she find there?
I need to get there before Matt does. But how would I—

“Julie?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess it’s still docked in Nashville. It’s on the west side of town.” She scratched her chin and looked away.

“Julie?” He gently took hold of her face and turned it toward him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me?”

“Hiding something? No. It’s just that . . . well, he used to entertain onboard his yacht. Let me tell you, those parties were legendary.”

“Legendary. How so?”

“The parties were wild. Really,
really
wild. Lots of booze. Lots of bikinis. Lots of . . . wild.” She felt his eyes on her as she gazed back on the town below.

“Did you go to many of these parties?”

“Who, me? Heavens, no!” Then she paused. “Well, I mean, I went
once
but just for a little while. It was shortly after Mr. Lanham hired me. He insisted I come, so I did. But I’m not comfortable around drunks and all that . . . cavorting.”

Matt wasn’t smiling, necessarily, but his eyes were. “Ah. So, there was cavorting.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not familiar with the term.”

“Oh, I know all about cavorting. I assure you.”

She studied him. “I suppose you cavort on a regular basis. Is that it?”

He laughed out loud. “I’ve had a cavort here and there.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Well, Julie, I don’t know. You seem to know all about cavorting, so you tell me.”

What a kind face. He still reminds me of a young Tom Hanks. Turner and Hooch-era Tom Hanks. Only not so much hair. And more naïve.
She stared into his eyes until the silence grew heavy. “Don’t mind me. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you feel the need to give me a hard time?”

Julie pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Good question. Why do I always feel the need to get into a sparring match with you? It’s like we have this strange dance we do.”

His brows knotted. “We dance, you and I?”

“Well no, not literally, though it’s a nice thought.” She couldn’t help the smile. “C’mon, you know what I mean. Obviously I annoy you, you push back, always scolding me somehow, then I push a little harder, and we—”

“We dance.” He laughed softly. “I see what you mean. I was never much of a dancer, which probably explains why I was slow on the draw on this one.”

“Who, you? Not a dancer? I thought you were all about the cavorting, Agent Bryson.”

“Evidently we’re talking about two different kinds of cavorting here.”

“It would seem so.” She gazed into his eyes again. “I like you, Matt.” The words seemed to slip out by themselves. “You seem like the real deal. Genuine. I don’t find that very often in the men I encounter. And I have to say it’s kind of refreshing.”

“Whoa . . . didn’t see
that
coming,” he said barely over a whisper.

“Yeah? I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He chuckled quietly. “Oh sure. All of them. Everywhere I go, girls, girls, girls. I’m constantly having to fight them off.”

They laughed together. He seemed to avoid eye contact, and that was okay. He was shy. She liked that about him. She could tell he liked to joke to cover his feelings. She liked that too.

Time for a subject change.

“Bet you didn’t know we once held a protest up here.”

“Really? What were you protesting?”

“There’s quite a rivalry between the Braxton Bears and the Ashland City Tigers. That’s our county seat about forty-five miles north of here. Every year, the pranks get a little more out of hand. It was homecoming of my senior year. The night before the big game, some of the Tigers’ more mischievous fans painted a
huge
tiger on our football field. Which, of course, ignited an endless number of fights and brawls. By game time, the crowds were so out of control and belligerent, the police called off the homecoming presentation, cancelled the game, and issued a ten o’clock curfew for anyone under nineteen years of age.

“It made sense for that evening, and continued for another couple of weeks. But once the whole thing blew over, the police continued to enforce the curfew. It was ridiculous. As senior class president, I led a contingency to talk with our chief of police, Bubba Carter. That was Jeff’s daddy. You met Jeff at the office yesterday, remember?”

He nodded. She continued. “Jeff’s nothing like his daddy. Bubba drove us all crazy when he was chief of police. So I memorized my speech to present to Chief Carter and delivered it with perfect elocution, I might add.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“As soon as I finished, he slammed his hands on his desk, told us to quit wasting his time, and threw us out of his office. We couldn’t believe it! That’s when we organized a protest. We squeezed as many kids as we could onto the walkway up here, then everyone else took a seat down below.”

“What did Bubba do?”

“He jumped out of his cruiser, which was lined up with the rest of Braxton’s Finest in their cruisers, all their red lights swirling around. Which only hyped us up more, of course. Then ol’ Bubba yelled into his bullhorn, ‘You kids go home! This is an illegal gathering, and you will be arrested if you don’t vacate these premises immediately!’”

“What did you do?”

“It was like a scene straight out of some epic Hollywood movie. We chanted, ‘Heck no! We won’t go! Heck no! We won’t go!’ Well, that’s the cleaned-up version, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Bubba kept yelling into that bullhorn, cussin’ up a blue streak. We kept chanting louder and louder. Course, there’re always a few who get carried away. This whole tower was covered with graffiti by the end of the night. Kids were throwing water balloons on the policemen below . . . it was so
much fun.”

“I never would’ve figured you the kind to be involved in civil disobedience.”

“Oh, I have all kinds of secrets, Agent Bryson.”

“Apparently.” He smiled. “So who won?”

“Well, all of a sudden, the news trucks from Nashville started arriving with cameras rolling. The reporters crowded around Bubba, yelling questions at him, those bright lights blazing in his eyes—I think it was all he could take. He was a proud man, and I think we’d just pushed him too far. He held up his bullhorn until we all quieted down, and said, ‘Curfew’s lifted.’

“We all cheered like we’d won the state playoffs. We made front page of the
Tennessean
the next morning, plus all four local stations carried the story on the news that night.”

“Wait. You mean Bubba just caved? After all that?”

“He did.” Julie leaned back to stare up at the stars as the memories played through her mind. “He did, but he was never the same. He resigned from the force a few days later, and we didn’t see much of him after that. About a month later he had a heart attack and died. We all felt horrible.” She glanced over at Matt. “Well, most of us anyway.”

“That’s quite a story.”

“I felt so sorry for Jeff. He took it really hard. And I think that’s why he became a policeman when he graduated. To honor his dad. And Jeff has done a great job. Everyone here loves him.”

They stood back up to stand at the railing again, looking out across the lights dotting the town.

“In a way, I really envy you,” he said. “Living in a place where people care about each other. Most people don’t even know their next- door neighbors, let alone the people on their street or the tens of thousands in their cities.”

Julie turned to face him. “I know. Sometimes I get restless, wanting to move away from all this. But deep down I love it here. That said, I’ll eventually leave.”

“Why’s that?”

“To pursue my career. I’m just biding my time until I can save enough to move to New York or Los Angeles.”

He didn’t respond.

“Of course, those are my dreams. Who knows what will happen.”

“Of course.” He smiled then slowly moved his hand along the rail until it touched hers. “I think I had you all wrong, Miss Parker.”

The warmth of his hand on hers surprised her. “How’s that?”

“I think
you’re
the real deal. Genuine.” He looked into her eyes. “As someone once said, ‘I have to say it’s kind of refreshing.’”

Remembering her own words, Julie smiled as a warm summer breeze rustled through her hair. “Well, don’t be too sure of that. We actors are an unpredictable lot. You just never know when—”

Suddenly, he kissed her. She was so startled she could hardly breathe. Then she relaxed, closed her eyes, and felt his arms wrap around her. The breeze, the kiss, the embrace . . . He pulled back to face her, his arms loosening around her. “Well,” he whispered, “that was unexpected.”

“Yeah? I think I like unexpected.”

She heard his quiet, contented sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder. For a moment, they just stood there. She couldn’t believe how perfectly she fit in his arms.

He stiffened. “Julie, don’t move.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Shh . . . someone’s watching us.”

“Where?” She started to turn but he held her tight.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. She fought the tingle it tried to relay, focusing on the situation. “Someone’s in the shadows of that metal building down below us. Behind you to your right. I can see the light reflecting off his glasses.”

“What do we do?”

“Act like nothing’s wrong. We’ll casually make our way down the ladder. I’ll go first. Ready?”

She trembled as he released her. “Ready.”

He held onto her hand until they reached the top of the ladder. “Allow me.” As he started his descent, they heard a car engine groan to life.

“Matt!”

“I see it! Can you get a make on the car?” He hurried down the steps.

“No, it’s too dark.”

He jumped the last few steps onto the pavement at the base of the tower then took off, running down the hill in the direction of the car. He was too late.

Julie caught up with him. “Could you see anything?”

He shook his head. “No, but watch where you step. Let’s see if he might have left something.”

She clung to the back of his shirt. “Such as?”

“Bingo.”

“What is it?”

“Stand still. Don’t move.”

“Okay. But what is it?”

“Our friend left us a couple of nice gifts. Two freshly-smoked Lucky Strikes.” Matt pulled a pair of tweezers and a small Ziploc bag from his pocket. He carefully lifted the cigarette butts with the tweezers, dropped them into the bag, and closed it, holding it up for Julie to see. “Looks like we’ve just made a couple of lucky strikes ourselves.”