The Mighty McKenzies

Landry seemed to take Colin’s interruption in stride and readily moved on to discuss her brother’s escape, along with three other convicts, grilling her with questions as he did so. At one point, he announced that marshals had questioned her father at his Memphis home, immediately after the escape, due to his close proximity to the site. Benjamin Sterling had denied any involvement, not that Peyton would have expected otherwise. Her father had always been one of Brian’s harshest critics. It was always she, and her mom, who stood up for him. The fact that the marshals had even considered that her father would help Brian was ludicrous.

“Your father claimed not to know where you were or how to contact you,” the chief said. “Do you know why he’d do that? He didn’t tell the marshals that you’d moved back to Gatlinburg.”

She clutched the edge of her seat beneath the table. “I imagine he thought he was protecting me. Having police at my business or home would have stirred up all the old gossip. It could hurt my café, the life I’m trying to build here.” And more important to her father, smear the precious Sterling name once again. Reputation was everything to her dad, far more important than his family.

The chief gave her a skeptical look then studied the notes in front of him. “Says here your mother passed away several months ago.”

She could feel Colin’s stare beside her. He’d seemed surprised to hear that she owned a café. And at the mention of her mom’s death, he seemed genuinely shocked. She regretted that he’d found out this way. But that didn’t mean that she was prepared to discuss the details. She was barely holding herself together. Discussing her mom right now would destroy her.

“My mother’s death has nothing to do with what’s going on with Brian. I’m not going to talk about her.”

To her surprise, Landry nodded and moved to other questions. She began to wonder whether talking about her mom would have been easier than hearing the details of her brother’s escape. Landry’s account of what had happened had nausea coiling in her stomach.

Brian was being transported along with three other convicts to the courthouse in downtown Memphis. Apparently, his lawyer had gotten him a hearing about alleged inhumane conditions at the prison. Since Peyton was well versed in the lawyer’s tactics, having worked many an odd job to help her parents pay for all those billable hours, she highly doubted that Brian was being treated unfairly. This latest complaint was likely based on Brian’s desire to get some time out of his cell. And he’d apparently taken advantage of the situation by escaping from the prison transport van.

“—and you claim you didn’t know anything about your brother’s plan?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “Again, no, Chief Landry. As I’ve said repeatedly, I didn’t even know that he was out of prison until I saw him in my kitchen. Even then, it didn’t quite register. I thought his lawyer must have finally managed to get his sentence shortened and Brian wanted to surprise me. Before today, I hadn’t seen him in a little over three months.”

“Then you didn’t know that shortly after he and three other men got away, they were confronted by Memphis police officer Owen Jennings and one of them shot and killed him?”

She drew a shaky breath. “My heart goes out to Officer Jennings and his family. But, no, I didn’t know anything about it. I still don’t. How did they escape? How did the man who shot Officer Jennings get a gun?”

“You mean how did your brother get the gun? Deputy Marshal McKenzie has told me he used to take you and your brother target practicing when you were teenagers. So we know your brother’s more than capable of handling a weapon.”

She glanced at Colin, then back at Landry. “Are you saying that you know that Brian is the one who shot Officer Jennings? Not one of the others?”

“No. He’s not.” Colin sat forward in his chair, his gaze riveted on the police chief. “Dash cam video from the officer’s patrol car shows him getting shot and the four prisoners running from the scene. Which man shot him is still to be determined.”

The chief sighed. “Marshal McKenzie, you’re here as a courtesy due to your close ties to the original arson case, and because you located Mr. Sterling earlier today in an unfortunately failed attempt to apprehend him. I’d appreciate you not interfering in my questioning of Miss Sterling.”

“Stick to what’s relevant and I won’t interfere.”

The chief smiled, seeming to shrug off Colin’s admonition. Peyton figured the two must have a solid friendship, or at least mutual respect, for Landry not to be upset.

“I’m okay moving on to the question of an alibi. Miss Sterling, where were you yesterday morning between the hours of ten and eleven?”

“Alibi? For what?”

“We need to know who might have, and might still be, helping the four convicts who escaped during transport from the Federal Correctional Institution in Memphis yesterday morning. So, again, can you please account for your whereabouts?”

“You seriously think I would have helped them?”

“Peyton.” Colin spoke softly beside her. “Just answer the question.”

“No,” she said. “No, I wasn’t six hours away in Memphis while simultaneously at my shop here in Gatlinburg.”

“Your shop? I believe you mentioned a café earlier?” Landry asked.

“Yes. I own a café and gift shop combination called Peyton’s Place. It’s in The Village, off Parkway. It’s new, not far from The Hofbrauhaus restaurant.”

“Can someone there vouch for where you were yesterday?”

“Joan—she works for me—she can tell you I was there all day, as I am most days. But she’s not there right now. The shop closed at six. It will open again in the morning, at nine.”

“I’m sure you understand the urgency of verifying your alibi as quickly as possible. Waiting until morning isn’t an option. Joan’s last name? Her address?”

“Fairmont, Joan Fairmont. I should call her first and let her know that—”

“If you do, that will destroy the credibility of her as an alibi witness. One of my men will head over there now and speak to her. The address?”

She hesitated. “I don’t want them frightened by a policeman knocking on their door.”

“Them?”

“I have two employees. Joan is full-time, Melissa’s part-time. They’re roommates.”

He motioned to one of the detectives who then wrote something down on the legal pad in front of him. Apparently he was making notes about her alibi.

“And why would they be frightened if a detective knocks on their door? Do they have something to hide?”

Her face heated. “Of course not. But they...they both have criminal records.” She could practically feel Colin’s gaze burning into her. “Nothing dangerous or anything. They were both homeless and became friends while trying to survive on the streets. They were hungry and got caught shoplifting at a grocery store. Both did a few months in the local jail.”

“Are there any other criminals working at your shop that we need to know about?”

She had to count to ten before she could speak without yelling. “I don’t consider Joan and Melissa to be criminals. Being poor and hungry are hardly crimes. They made restitution for what little food they took when they were practically starving. And they’re working hard to turn their lives around.”

“No doubt. My apologies if I seemed insensitive.”

His sincere tone went a long way toward defusing her anger. She gave him a crisp nod, accepting his apology.

“Any other employees?”

She hesitated.

“Miss Sterling?”

She glanced at Colin, but his stormy eyes gave her no indication of what he was thinking. “Technically, no. But Mr. Hardy comes by to perform odd jobs for food. He... I believe he may have had some scrapes with the law as well.”

Colin focused his gaze on a spot on the far wall.

“Do you have Mr. Hardy’s address so we can speak to him too?” Landry asked.

“I don’t think he has an address. I’ve offered to let him sleep in our storage room. But he always declines, says something about the stars being his roof.”

“How often does he come around?”

“Pretty much every day. But there’s no need to bother him. Joan will corroborate what I told you about being at the shop.” She rattled off Joan and Melissa’s address at the halfway house where they lived. “Please be polite and nonjudgmental when you speak to them. They’ve had a hard time of it and have been wonderful friends and workers.”

“I’m sure we can figure out how to ask them a few questions without traumatizing or insulting them.”

Since she was feeling a bit traumatized herself, she had little faith in his statement. She wrapped her arms around her middle. How much more of this interrogation was she going to have to endure?

The detective who’d been taking notes about Joan and Melissa picked up his legal pad and left the room.

“Last question, Miss Sterling.”

Thank God.

“You said you haven’t seen your brother in three months, prior to him showing up in your home yesterday. Do you have any ideas about where he might hide given that we’ve got roadblocks and checkpoints all throughout the county?”

She shook her head. “No. I honestly don’t. It’s not like he has any friends left around here. Our house is the only place I’d expect him to go.”

“If you think of something, you’ll let me know?”

“Of course.” Would she? She had no idea. If Brian had indeed killed a police officer, she’d be the first one to turn him in. But he’d been falsely convicted of one crime already. Trusting the police and the judicial system not to pin something else on him wasn’t likely to happen. And she really hadn’t had time to consider where he might hide. Where would he go if he was hunkering down, trying to keep someone from finding him?

The chief motioned to one of the detectives a few seats down, who then got up and handed him the tablet he’d been using during the meeting. Landry studied it a few moments, then turned it around and slid it across the table to Peyton. “Officer Redding typed up your statement, everything you said during our chat.”

Chat? If this was a chat, she couldn’t imagine how awful a real interrogation would have been.

He tapped the screen, scrolling to the top of the form. “Read through that. If you agree that it’s accurate, sign at the bottom. If anything needs correction, have Marshal McKenzie get Detective Redding back in here. Make yourself comfortable while we confirm your alibi. You don’t have your phone do you? I don’t want you calling your employees.”

She automatically felt her jeans pockets. “No. Actually, I don’t. I think it’s in my purse. But I’m not even sure where I left my purse.” A feeling of panic settled in her stomach as she tried to remember where it might be. Her credit cards and pretty much her entire life was in there.

“It’s locked in my desk,” Colin said. “I think your phone was in the side pocket.”

She smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“That’s settled then.” Landry shoved his chair back and stood. The other people in the room began filing out the door.

“Chief Landry?” she asked.

He paused. “Yes?”

“You seem to be focused entirely on my brother in regards to the escape and the death of Officer Jennings. Is there a reason for that? There were three other convicts involved, based on what you said earlier.”

He smiled. “I assure you that we’re looking into all four men and speaking to anyone who knows them. Perhaps I should have asked just to be sure—have you ever met Damon Patterson, Vincent Snyder or Tyler King?”

“None of those names sound familiar, no. Are they the convicts from the van? Do you think they’re still with my brother or did they split up?”

He smiled. “Thank you again for your cooperation.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Peyton clutched the tablet in front of her, painfully aware that the chief hadn’t answered her questions. “What happens next?” she asked, without looking at Colin beside her.

“We wait. And hope that your alibi checks out.”

“It will. I wasn’t in Memphis yesterday. You believe me, right?” This time she turned to look at him.

He stared at her a long moment, then stood and crossed to the door.

“Colin? You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I’m getting a bottle of water. Want anything?”

She slowly shook her head and he left the room.

Chapter Five

It was bad enough that crime scene investigators were combing through every inch of Peyton’s family home, having obtained a search warrant based on Brian being inside earlier today. What was even more humiliating was standing in her own bedroom while a police woman rifled through the bag that Peyton had just packed.

Peyton crossed her arms, frowning at the woman’s profile as she wadded up shirts and pants that Peyton had painstakingly rolled to avoid wrinkles. The woman pulled out yet another pair of Peyton’s underwear, letting the red thong dangle in the air. What did she think? That Peyton was going to smuggle a gun in her undies and attack Colin in his sleep?

“I don’t think they’re your size,” she snapped, unable to put up with the farce any longer.

Unruffled, the officer smiled politely, underwear still suspended in the air. “I’m just doing my job, Miss Sterling.”

“Is there a problem in here?” Colin stepped into the room.

Peyton snatched the thong and tossed it into the overnight bag. “Not at all. Officer...”

“Simmons,” the policewoman supplied, sounding infuriatingly amused.

“Right. Officer Simmons was just complimenting me on my fabric choices. Isn’t that right?”

Simmons rolled her eyes. “You have a nice evening, ma’am.” She stepped past Peyton, nodding at Colin before exiting the room.

“Did I miss something?” Colin asked.

She straightened the contents of the bag as best she could without dumping everything out and starting over. “I’m fairly certain that Officer Simmons was wrinkling my clothes and going as slowly as humanly possible just because—”

“Because you knocked a gun out of a marshal’s hand and let a suspected cop killer get away?”

She stood frozen, his words sinking in. Shame made her face heat. “You’re right. I’m so used to being on the defensive about Brian being innocent that I didn’t look at it from her perspective.”

He stepped to the bed and zipped her bag closed, then hefted it in his hand. “Maybe she was suspicious because you’ve packed half your bedroom in here. I bet this would require extra baggage fees at the airport.”

“It’s not that heavy. I know I packed more than I need for one night. But I always worry that I’ll want something else after I’ve left the house.”

“It’s a good thing you did. I don’t expect you’ll be able to come back here for several days.” He motioned toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“I can carry my own...wait. What do you mean several days? I have to do laundry, clean the house, work on the store’s books, and a hundred other things. I can’t put my life on hold.”

“Why not? Think of it as a vacation. Don’t worry about anything except helping me figure out where your brother might be hiding.”

“I don’t know what you were expecting but I can’t ignore my responsibilities. I have to be back at the store Sunday and Monday. Those are Joan’s days off. Melissa can’t run the store by herself. This is the busy summer tourist season. Besides, my customers expect fresh baked goods Sunday through Friday. If I don’t have new product in the display cases, I lose business. I’m still operating in the red, struggling to make this work as it is.”

“If money’s your worry, I can—”

“No. We’ve already had that conversation. I appreciate your generous offer, truly. But come early Sunday morning, I need to be in my own kitchen baking. Then I’m going to the shop.”

He set the bag back on the bed. “Unless your brother and the other escapees are either caught or known to be in an area far from here by Sunday, you’re not coming back. And you definitely aren’t going into town.”

“Colin—”

“Your brother showed up here once already. Odds are, he’ll try again. The reports my fellow marshals have been sharing with me indicate that all four men were spotted traveling together at their last verified sighting. One of them is a convicted murderer with ties to gangs. Until I know it’s safe, you aren’t coming back here. Period.”

Her throat went dry. Her brother was traveling with a convicted murderer? Brian wasn’t exactly street-smart. Even after years in prison, he still seemed like a scared, naive kid every time she visited him.

Please be careful. Don’t get yourself killed, Brian.

Since Colin was watching her, she forced a smile. “When you put it that way, I understand your concerns. I’ll need to check whether Joan and Melissa can take on additional shifts for a few days.” Not that she could afford the extra pay. And she didn’t know if her employees could change their schedules last minute. “Since my alibi was verified, it’s okay to call them, right?”

“Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Right.” The dark glass of her bedroom window clearly showed it was too late to call anyone tonight. “I’ll need to grab my baking supplies and take them to your place so I can bake things for the shop. I can ask Joan to come pick them up. Is that okay? Me using your kitchen?”

“You’re welcome to use my kitchen. But let’s head over there first and see if I already have what you need instead of hauling half your things over there.”

“Why can’t we just grab my stuff while we’re still here?”

He blew out a breath. “Because the crime scene unit is still collecting evidence. Allowing you to take clothes and toiletries is one thing. Hauling out pots and pans and who knows what else is completely different.” He motioned her toward the hallway and hefted her bag again.

The warrant. It all came down to that. She shook her head and headed down the hallway, Colin’s boots echoing against the hardwood behind her. Just inside the family room, she had to stop to let a tech pass by with a laptop in a clear plastic bag.

“Hey, wait. That’s mine. My business records are on that computer. I’ll need that to work on invoices tomorrow.” She reached for the bag. Colin pulled her against his side, nodding at the other man to continue out the propped-open front door.

“What are you doing?” She shook his arm off her shoulders.

“Keeping you from getting arrested for interfering with the execution of a search warrant. Come on. We need to get out of here.”

She mumbled beneath her breath just what she thought of the search warrant but dutifully started toward the front door. When she saw Officer Simmons lounging on her couch like a plant taking root, she stopped again. “Shouldn’t you be rifling through my underwear drawer or something?”

Simmons’s eyes widened.

Colin coughed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he told Simmons.

“What are you apologizing to her for? Why is she—”

He took a firm grip on her arm and steered her out of the house, not slowing down until they were standing beside the open passenger door of his ridiculously tall pickup. White vans surrounded them, several parked right on the pitiful patch of weeds and dirt that used to be her mama’s front lawn.

She gasped when another tech passed her carrying a precious family photo album. “Hey! Give that back. What are you doing with—oh!”

Colin lifted her up and deposited her onto the passenger seat and then reached for the seat belt as if she was a toddler. She snatched it from him and clicked it into place.

“I can fasten my own seat belt. And I could have climbed up into this monster truck of yours without help.”

“No. You couldn’t. You’re so short you could pass for a hobbit.”

She gasped in outrage.

He shut the door with more force than was necessary.

She crossed her arms, jaw clenched as she watched the vultures hauling out more of her things. A few seconds later, Colin hopped up on the driver’s seat without a bit of trouble, making her resent him for his long legs. He tossed her bag onto the bench seat between them and sat there, as if waiting for something.

She clenched her jaw tighter, determined not to say another word.

Thunder rumbled overhead. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky for a few brief seconds. Yet another summer storm was moving into the area.

“I hope the rain turns the road into a river and those stupid vans slide into a ditch,” she grumbled.

“There it is.” He sounded almost cheerful as he started the engine. “Now we can go.”

She crossed her arms. “You think you know me so well.”

The almost smile that had accompanied his announcement faded and once again the sullen stranger took his place. “No. I don’t think I know you at all. Not anymore, if I ever did.”

His words were like a punch in the gut, reminding her of just how much water had passed beneath the bridge since they’d last been together.

He backed out of the driveway, the wheels kicking up gravel when he headed up the road.

Up.

Not down.

Unfamiliar terrain passed by her window, what little she could see in the moonlight. When she’d lived here before, this road had dead-ended just past her house. She hadn’t realized since coming back that it continued around the mountain.

“Is this a shortcut?” she asked.

“No.” He rounded a curve, the grade getting steeper as they continued higher.

“Colin, where...” White wood fencing appeared off to their left, illuminated by spotlights and marching across the fields as far as she could see. Another curve revealed even more landscape lights, on either side of a long, paved driveway. And at the end sat a huge white two-story farmhouse with an enormous wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing. She smiled sadly at the swing. She’d always wanted one but never had one growing up. Her dad had said their porch was too small.

“Beautiful house. Adore the swing,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Is this where we’re going?”

He nodded.

“Who lives there? Another police officer? You’re going to have someone else ask me questions about Brian?”

He shook his head and turned up the drive. When they reached the garage, he pressed a button in the roof of his truck and the door began to rise.

“This is your house?”

“I built it a handful of years ago.”

He pulled into the three-car garage. An expensive-looking black sports car of some type was parked two spaces away.

“I thought you had a chalet on Skyline Drive?”

He shot her a surprised glance. “I used to. How did you know about the chalet? I bought it a year after you left.” He cut the engine.

She shrugged, unwilling to admit that she’d ruthlessly grilled an old friend for information about Colin after being forced to move to Memphis. “One of dad’s clients or mom’s old church friends probably mentioned it on the phone after we first left. But I never knew you built a new home a few miles up the road from mine. Why did you? Why here?”

He hesitated. “The land was available, the area familiar. No neighbors to worry about.”

“And you just happened to build a white two-story farmhouse surrounded by acres of white fencing? With a porch swing? Like we talked about building together one day?”

His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’ve always liked this style of home. Don’t read anything into it.”

She jerked back, and hated that she had. He’d hurt her, again, and she seemed helpless to hide it every time one of his barbs hit the bullseye.

His expression softened with regret. “Peyton—”

“I’ll get the door myself this time.” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag and hopped out of the truck before he could get out and help her. She stumbled but considered it a victory that she didn’t do a face-plant on the pristine gray-painted floor of the garage. In comparison, her garage had cracks and oil stains all over the place from her constantly leaking SUV. She’d be afraid to park her car in something this clean.