Page 72 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

“Are you sure he didn’t tell anyone of his plans? Not even Tim McCree? We heard he told the police that Chuck went fishin’ with him the night of Bethany’s murder.”

“Yeah,” he said, scooting closer in his seat. “We never saw him again after that. Our mother talked to him to see if Chuck mentioned that he was leaving town. Or if Tim knew why he left, but he said Chuck was pretty quiet while they were fishing. I think she was worried he had something to do with that girl’s murder, and that’s why he ran off, but talkin’ to Tim settled her down.”

Dixie started to say something, and I put a hand on her leg, stopping her in case she was about to tell him that Tim had lied. We didn’t know all the facts yet, so better to hold off until we knew more.

“We heard about those postcards he sent, and the ones you mentioned,” I said. “What did he write in them?”

“Only that we shouldn’t worry about him and he was fine.” He chuckled. “Living his best life, as my grandkids like to say.”

“Do you still get postcards from him?” I asked, just to see what he would say.

“Oh no, they stopped coming years ago.” He scratched his chin. “They came in sporadically for, oh, about ten years or so after he left. Sent ’em from all over. My mother used to light up like a Christmas tree when they showed up in our mailbox. She liked knowin’ that he was travelin’ and seein’ the world.”

“How did she take it when they stopped?”

His lips pinched together. “She never knew. She died about ten years after he left, and some of us wondered if he’d show up to the funeral, but he stayed away. The letters dried up after that. He never wrote again.”

Dixie cast a glance in my direction that told me she had asked all her questions. I nodded that I was done.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Petty,” she said in a friendly tone. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“If you find out anythin’, let me know, okay? I’d sure like to know where he landed and why he left.”

“We definitely will,” I said. “Take care now.”

Dixie ended the call and turned to look at me. “So what do you think?”

“I guess he had a reason for leaving town and never coming back, but it still sounds weird. He didn’t pack a suitcase. He left in a hurry.”

“Rachel made Tim give Chuck an alibi forsomegood reason,” she said.

“Let’s just hope she tells us what it is.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summer

Iwas a bundle of nerves as I drove to Rachel’s house. Somehow, I was going to have to figure out a way to convince this woman to tell me the truth, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of the task. If I screwed it up, I might screw it up for good.

“You’re gonna do fine,” Dixie said as I turned onto Rachel’s property.

My stomach tumbled. “What makes you think I need the pep talk?”

“Because you’re a nervous wreck.”

“I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it,” I said.

“You are,” she said. “That’s how I know you’re nervous. You’re sitting as still as a church mouse. But trust me. You’ll do great.”

“You can jump in at any time,” I said. “You’re just as good at this as I am. Sometimes better. I’m not sure I would have handled Mr. Petty as well. I meant it when I said you should take a case or two in the next season. And when we’re not filming too.”

Her face flushed. “Thanks, Summer.”

The dogs were out when we parked in front of Rachel’s house, and they rushed over to greet us as we got out, their tails wagging. I leaned over to pet the dog nearest me, but I straightened when I heard a banging sound coming from the barn.

Dixie shot me a look and we silently agreed to head that direction, with me in the lead. The dogs trailed behind.

“Hello?” I called out from outside the partially open barn door. “Rachel, are you in there?”

---