High School Reunion. Mallory Kane
Three
Later that evening, when Cade came out of the shower, his phone was ringing. A glance at the caller ID told him it was his dad. He picked up the handset.
“Dad, I was going to call you in the morning. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I wanted to check on you. Gotta keep up with the only son I’ve got left.”
Cade rubbed his chest. The pain was old and familiar, but still sharp. Only son I have left. That’s how his dad always referred to him. As if he was nothing but James’s leftovers.
His brother, James Dupree Senior’s first-born, had died five years before. The same week his dad had suffered a stroke that had left him with a mild speech impediment. Every time Cade talked to him, he was reminded of both.
“We had a breaking-and-entering at Misty Waller’s house.”
“I heard. Misty okay?”
“She’s got a knot on her head, but she’s fine.” Cade paused, glancing at the clock. “Dad, feel like talking for a minute?”
“It’s why I called.”
“What do you remember about Wendell Vance’s death?” Cade paced as he talked.
“Vance? Oh. Kid that hanged himself on his graduation night?”
“Right.” His dad might have trouble speaking, but there was nothing wrong with his brain.
“Ever’thin’s in the file, I reckon.”
“Did you ever think it was murder?”
“Murder? Maybe for a minute. Remember what I tol’ you? Always consider every possibility. But the boy was taking pills for depression. It’s all in the file.”
“What did you think about Ralph Langston?”
“Who?”
“He was in the same class. Apparently he got a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship that would have gone to Wendell.”
“Don’ remember that. I musta talked to him. Everybody was all shook up. I gotta say though, the boy did a good job of killin’ himself—”
“Good job? What do you mean?” Cade pushed his fingers through his damp hair, raining cool drops of water onto his shoulders and back.
“He tied that rope that hangs from the Swinging Oak ’round his neck. Broke his hyoid bone and crushed his larynx. Quickes’ way. Beats choking slow.”
“Hyoid bone.” Cade thought back to his forensics training from Quantico. “That doesn’t usually happen in a hanging, does it?”
“Nah. Only thing I could figure was maybe that disk an’ chain got caught in the rope.”
“Disk? Oh—the Science Medal. He was still wearing it when he hanged himself?” The metal disk could have gotten caught between the rope and Wendell’s throat, crushing the bone.
“That was strange, too,” his dad continued. “Never did find that medal. Just a coupla links of chain. If I didn’ know better, I’d say somebody took it.”
Cade stopped pacing. “Could it have fallen into the creek?”
“I wondered about that. But the pieces of chain I found were about six feet or so to the left of the body.”
Cade wiped his face with the towel. “Left. Not in front, not behind.”
“That’s right. Odd.”
“What did you do with it?”
“It’s in the evidence room with the case file. We looked for that medal for days. Your brother helped. That was the week he told me he was droppin’ out of college and joinin’ the service.” Emotion choked his dad’s voice.
Cade’s chest squeezed tighter. He rubbed it again, his palm spreading the few drops of water that clung. He hadn’t remembered James helping Dad with the investigation of Wendell Vance’s death. Was there anything his brother hadn’t done before him?
Cade sighed. “It’s been a long day, Dad. I’d better let you get to bed. I’ll see you in a day or two, okay?”
“Sure. Cade?”
“Yeah?”
“You thinkin’ the Vance boy was murdered? Why now?”
“This weekend’s the ten year reunion of his high school class. People are talking.”
“This have anythin’ to do with Misty’s attack?”
“Maybe. I’m checking into it.”
“Take care, son.”
“I will. Good night, Dad.”
Cade hung up and flopped down onto his unmade bed. He stared at the ceiling and thought about what his dad had said.
He was impressed with his dad’s memory of the case and the thoroughness of his investigation.
He punched a pillow and doubled it up under his head. Tomorrow he’d pull out Wendell Vance’s old case files and go over them. He’d meant to ask his dad if he’d dusted the links of chain for prints, but he’d find the answer to that in the file.
He could already hear Laurel when she found out Wendell’s cause of death. A broken hyoid usually indicated foul play. Her criminologist brain would go straight to murder. He wondered if he could hold her back for two days, until the reunion was over.
There was no way he’d let her whip the town into a frenzy by spouting her theories of murder. Hell, they were based on nothing—just a few odd photos.
She would disagree of course. He could see her now, with those wisps of red hair framing her angry face and her multicolored eyes flashing.
He’d learned one thing about her tonight. Laurel Gillespie didn’t like to be wrong.
His thoughts drifted to his first view of her behind in that tight gray skirt. What a surprise she was. He’d barely remembered her from high school. And only because of his brother’s involvement in the prank the—what had she called them—the CeeGees had played on her. James, arrogant and assured, had thought it was hilarious.
A pang of compassion for Laurel and the CeeGees’s other victims pricked his conscience. He hadn’t been involved, but could he have stopped James if he’d tried? He doubted it.
At least Laurel hadn’t let their cruel jokes wreck her life. She was in the FBI—and not just a field agent. She worked for an elite division stationed in D.C.
He punched his pillow again, then stuffed it back under his neck. He’d dreamed of being an FBI agent once, before James had died.
Even in death, his brother had bested him. All his life, Cade had worshiped James. He’d wanted to be just like him.
James should have been the one to take over the job of police chief in Dusty Springs. But instead, he’d joined the Air Force. Then, within five years, he was gone. And as his dad had just said, Cade was the only son he had left.
So when his dad had his stroke, Cade had come home to Dusty Springs. Now here he was five years later, Chief of Police just like his dad and granddad, and still angry at his brother for dying.
Cade knew the job he was doing was honorable and important, but he’d never intended to stay in Dusty Springs, where he’d always be in the shadow of his brother. After he’d returned, it had gotten even worse. It was hard enough to live up to a shining star like James. But it was impossible when the star was a hero who’d given his life for his country.
He uttered a short laugh. Just went to show how different real life was from high school. He’d been determined to outdo James. And he’d come close. In the high school yearbook, guys like him were Most Likely to Succeed or Most Popular or Mr. Dusty Springs High