Page 112 of You'll Be Sorry

He shook noticeably. “I went back the next day.”

“To see what had happened. After three or four cups of coffee, I’m assuming.”

“Nothing.” Austin appeared genuinely bewildered. “No hit deer. No shot bears. Just…nothing.”

“Then later in the day, you heard that the Dixon family had gone missing.”

“There was nothing! Which was good, so good. Couldn’t have been me, right? I could barely stand up that night, let alone…you know.”

“You could still shoot a gun,” Mandy observed quietly.

“I told myself I’d never drink again. I’d crashed my car. Suffered terrible delusions. But it was over. I’d get straight. And…and…ten years later I did.”

Austin ended in a mumble. Mandy understood. Couldn’t be a cop without getting to see firsthand the damage addiction could do.

“But then this morning,” she prodded gently, “discovering what we discovered. You remembered more, didn’t you? As in, not a deer. Not a family of bears.”

“Makes no sense. From the road…to there! Someone else…one of them!” He turned his shotgun wildly toward his neighbors. “One of them did it. I couldn’t’ve!”

Mandy forced herself to remain calm. Despite her directions and very much in line with her expectations, very few of the townsfolk had left their chairs. Because they trusted their fire chief that much? Or wanted answers that badly? Either was possible.

“Austin, the next day you went back to the scene, right? Because you did have doubts. But you didn’t find anything. Correct?”

“No!”

“Did you happen to check your firearm? Double-check if you’d really discharged your weapon?”

“Four rounds missing.”

“How good a shot are you, Austin? Like four shots, four bull’s-eyes?”

Austin regarded her blearily. “Huh?”

Yeah, she was starting to get it. Austin had been involved that infamous night. Maybe struck one of the Dixon children, or the dog, with his car, then ended up shooting at other members of the family. But one significantly impaired man eliminating all six with four bullets? Then transporting the bodies, sealing them up in a cave, and cleaning up the entire mess?

She didn’t believe Austin was that good, especially not back in his hard-boozing heyday.

“I think you’re right, Austin, about someone here knowing something,” she informed him. “I believe it’s time to poll our studio audience. After you surrender your shotgun.”

She held out a hand expectantly, while a low murmur erupted behind her. Austin peered down at his weapon, still clutched in both hands.

“Austin, look at me.” Then, when he did: “You need answers. What happened that night, it’s not all on you. It’s one piece of a much larger puzzle. For the past twenty years, you’ve kept this town safe. There are so many in this room who are grateful to you.”

She glanced over her shoulder. A small flurry of nods.

“You have served them. Now it’s their turn to help you. Let it go. Surrender your burden. Let us be there for you.”

Austin swayed slightly, another tremor snaking through his frame. Several members of his crew crept closer. Mandy didn’t look at them. She kept her gaze fixed on the man who’d clearly done a whole lotta wrong, but then a whole lotta right. Whether those things equaled out wasn’t her place to judge. Her job was to keep her town safe—all members of her town included.

Abruptly, Austin thrust out his shotgun. Then he sat down hard. She collected the gun with a discreet nod at her officers. As in, do nothing, say nothing. There were cards left to be played.

With Austin now disarmed, Mandy turned to regard her neighbors directly. No Betty and Mason, who’d had a heads-up on the situation, but otherwise, all the major players were accounted for. The legacy families, whose ancestors built this community and whose bloodlines many would argue still ran it.

“Who here knows of a cave, located in the granite ledge between Skyline Drive and the Dixon property?”

A general mutter sweeping through the room. She was not surprised that the Baird sisters raised their hands first.

“We heard stories.” Lana Baird, sounding tentative.