True Light

  Pedaling into Oak Hollow, she bypassed her own house and went straight to his. She found him in his garage, surrounded by the inventions he’d created in the last few months.

  “Hey, Mark. What are you doing?”

  “Hey.” He looked happy to see her. That warm feeling she always got when she was near him swelled in her heart as she parked her bike.

  “Any word on Zach?” he asked.

  “No, not yet. I’m still gathering facts.” She looked at the little box on which he was screwing a hinge. “What’s this?”

  “I’m working on a birthday present for your dad.” He showed her the box he’d built, with a slat at the top.

  “What is it?”

  “A tool box. I know he has one, but I thought maybe he could use another one.” He opened the top. “I carved out this Bible verse inside.”

  Deni bent over and saw the ornate inscription. “ ‘Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed.’ 2 Timothy 2:15.”

  “He’ll love it,” she said. Mark was always thoughtful with her family members. But for some reason, he held back when he was with Deni. She couldn’t forget the kiss they’d shared last summer. Fireworks had gone off in her chest, and her heart had raced more in Mark’s arms than it ever had in Craig’s. Then Craig had shown up and messed up everything.

  She’d wound up breaking off her engagement once and for all and had sensed afterward that Mark was giving her time to reconsider. And just when he’d finally seemed satisfied that she wasn’t pining away for Craig, he’d found a letter she’d been writing to him. He had trouble believing that her letter, far from being a declaration of love for Craig, was simply answering Craig’s pleas for her to take him back. But the letter had been unfinished, and what wasn’t written had done more harm than what was.

  So Mark had backed off. Pride had kept her from groveling. But the chemistry remained.

  And his friendship had become something she cherished.

  He glanced at her face, and she knew he sensed that something was wrong. He set the toolbox down. “What’s wrong, Deni?”

  She sighed. “Mark, I need to ask you something. Did you kill a deer this morning?”

  “Sure did. Eight points. Don’t worry, I’m bringing your family some venison tonight.”

  He clearly had no idea what was being said about him. “Mark, that deer is going to cause you a world of problems.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Because the sheriff is compiling a list of all those who brought home a deer this morning. And you’re on it.”

  Mark set his hands on his hips. “What would my killing a deer today have to do with Zach’s shooting?”

  “They’re saying that whoever shot Zach did it for his deer. They left him for dead and took his game.”

  Understanding dawned on his face. “And they think I did that?”

  She sighed. “Mark, you know there are lots of people around here who don’t trust you. They’ll think — ”

  “I don’t care what they think! I didn’t shoot anybody. Zach knows that. And you know it too.”

  “Of course I do. But I wasn’t there. And Zach may not make it. Mark, where were you hunting this morning?”

  “Off Tiger Road, on the Carlisle property.”

  “That’s a long way from where Zach was. Did you see anyone? Anybody who can confirm that you were there?”

  Mark grunted and gazed down at her. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you. It’s not that. It’s just that the sheriff is going to question you, Mark. And you need to have someone corroborate your alibi.”

  “Alibi?” Mark gaped at her in disbelief. “I don’t need an alibi, Deni.”

  “Think,” she said. “Anyone. You need a name.”

  He gave her a look that declared her a traitor. Turning his back, he went across the garage, picked up a screwdriver, and hung it on a hook on the wall. “I didn’t see anybody at the Carlisle property. They have a hundred acres, and their house is all the way on the other side. I have a blanket invitation to hunt there ever since I helped them convert their car into a horse-drawn carriage.” He turned back around. “But I saw people when I was on my way home with the deer. It was before I’d heard about Zach. Maybe the timing will clear me.”

  “What time was it?”

  “About ten o’clock.”

  “That doesn’t help. They don’t really know what time Zach was shot. He wasn’t found until a little after ten, and he’d been lying there awhile.”

  “This is incredible.” Mark dropped into a lawn chair and looked at his feet.

  Deni sat across from him. “Mark, someone must’ve seen you, someone who can confirm the time you were at the Carlisle place. We just have to calm down and think.”

  They heard the rattle of an engine coming up the street, and Mark got to his feet as the sheriff’s van came into view. “Oh no, it’s happening,” he said.

  Deni stood back up and made him look at her. “Mark, Sheriff Scarbrough knows you. He’ll listen. Just stay calm and tell him the truth.”

  Mark walked out into the driveway as the sheriff pulled in. Sheriff Scarbrough looked sullen as he got out of his van. “How ya doing, Mark? Deni?”

  Deni nodded a greeting.

  Mark shook his hand. “Go ahead and cut to the chase, Sheriff. I know why you’re here.”

  Mark was too blunt, Deni thought. Meeting this head-on might make him look guilty. “Sheriff, I heard he was on the list,” she said. “I came to tell him.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Mark, I have to do my job.”

  “I guess you’ll want to see my deer,” Mark said, striding toward his mother’s Caravan. “I’ve got it right here. I shot it at the Carlisle place this morning.”

  He opened the side door, revealing the deer he’d already skinned. But it was still in one piece.

  The deer he’d killed weighed two hundred pounds, Deni guessed, and had a bullet through the breastbone.

  The sheriff examined the animal for an exit wound. “Looks like the bullet went straight through. Maybe we can find it at the Carlisle place.” He glanced up at Mark. “I need to see your guns, Mark.”

  Mark nodded and led him into the house to get them. He handed them to the sheriff one by one, then brought him back out to the garage where the light was better.

  Scarbrough laid the guns out on Mark’s work table.

  Deni watched him examine them. “He didn’t do it, Sheriff. You know he didn’t.”

  Scarbrough just coughed.

  “Sheriff Scarbrough, you know him! Mark’s not that kind of a person, and he doesn’t have to steal someone else’s game. He’s a good hunter. He’s even put food on your table.”

  Scarbrough quit coughing and cleared his throat. “I realize that, Deni.”

  “Then why don’t you leave him alone?”

  “The best thing I can do for Mark right now is to find evidence that rules him out.”

  Hope rose in her. “Then you do know that he’s innocent.”

  Scarbrough wouldn’t answer.

  Mark pointed to his Remington. “This is what I was hunting with this morning, Sheriff. Do you know yet what caliber bullet hit Zach?”

  The sheriff opened the action on the gun and took out the cartridges. “I can’t talk about the investigation with you, Mark. But I need a list of people you saw when you were bringing your deer home. I’ll want to talk to them about the time they saw you. I also want you to take me to where you shot the deer. Show me the bullet. The shell casings. Show me the blood on the ground. Show me your footprints. Prove to me when you were there.”

  Mark brought his chin up and started toward the sheriff’s van. “Let’s go right now.”

  “Can I come?” Deni asked.

  Scarbrough shook his head. “No, Deni. I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Off the record!” she said. “Sheriff, trust me. I won’t write anything about it.”


  “It’s a criminal investigation, Deni. You can’t come.”

  Mark turned back to her. “I’ll come by your house when I get back.” He walked them out, closed and locked the garage door.

  Deni hated being left behind.

  “Do me a favor and tell my mom,” he said as he got in the van. “She’s at the swap meet. I don’t want her to hear this from someone else.”

  “I will. Mark, just think. Go over the whole morning in your mind. Someone must have seen you there.”

  As the old rattletrap of a van pulled out of Mark’s driveway, Deni watched as several neighbors came out to see. Lou Grantham crossed his yard and approached her.

  “Did he arrest Mark?” he asked her.

  “No, of course they didn’t.” She got on her bike. “He just asked him some questions.”

  “He did it, didn’t he?” Roland Gunn and his wife were crossing the street. “They locking Mark up? I always knew that kid was no good.”

  She wanted to run over him. “No, you didn’t! You thought he was good enough to help you build your greenhouse so you could grow food. And how many times have you eaten things he’s provided for you?”

  “So he’s a good actor.”

  “Mark is innocent!” she yelled back.

  But no one was listening. They already had their minds made up.

  TEN

  KAY HAD JUST MADE A DEAL TO TRADE A BLANKET SHE’D made out of old clothes for some leather gloves and a knitted scarf for Doug’s birthday. She’d also spotted a parka in Beth’s size, and now she waited for Logan to come back and man her table so she could go make a deal.

  She spotted him in front of a toy table, looking like he’d just hit the jackpot. She dreaded seeing what he had traded for. A few minutes later, he turned with his arms full of badminton equipment and ran back to her. “Mom, look what I got Dad!”

  “You got him badminton equipment? Are you sure that’s not for you?”

  His face fell. “Well . . . he can play it with me. But isn’t it cool?”

  “So what did you trade for it?”

  “My molecule,” he said. “Told you I’d sell it!”

  Something didn’t sound right about the deal. She looked across the tent at the people who’d made the trade. Surely they weren’t stupid. “So let me get this straight. You told them that was your science project and that it was a molecule, and they traded you?”

  He looked away and shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “Why don’t you explain, ‘sort of’?”

  “Well . . . I kinda told them it was a pulsar. A supernova, like SN – 1999.”

  No wonder. There was so much interest in the pulsar that was causing all these problems on earth that it would stand to reason they’d make the trade. But it was still a lie. “Logan, that molecule doesn’t look anything like a pulsar and you know it. You made that up. Do you know what a fraud is?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

  “How about a scam artist?”

  “I’m not a scam artist! I’m just a good negotiator.”

  “It’s not called negotiation when you start off with a fraudulent product.” She took the badminton set from him. “Was this an even trade?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re going to take it back and tell them you lied.”

  “Mom! I can’t do that!”

  “Oh yes, you can. If they still want it after they know it’s a molecule, fine. If they don’t, then you’ll cancel the trade. And hurry it up, because I need you to man the table while I register my deals.”

  She marched Logan across the tent. His face was hangdog as he made his confession to the father of the kid he’d scammed. The father looked amused, but the boy was indignant. They traded back without a lecture.

  Logan pouted as they headed back to the table. “You’ve been trying to keep me from selling that all day,” he said. “It’s like you want it or something.”

  “That’s right. I’ve always loved that molecule.”

  Logan laughed despite himself. She grinned and messed his hair up. “Wait here. Don’t make any deals without me, but you can start a negotiation if someone wants something. I’ll be over there.”

  As she went around the table, Martha winked at her, then sidled up to Logan. “Logan, I’ve actually had my eye on that molecule all day long. Do you think you might like to trade for one of Mark’s old track trophies?”

  Logan caught his breath. “You bet I would!”

  Kay couldn’t help laughing. At the table with the girls’ clothes, she looked at the ski parka. It was perfect for Beth. Just what she needed. She made a deal to trade them for some of Deni’s outgrown ski clothes — the perfect size for their fifteen-year-old daughter — and hurried back to the table with her prize.

  “Mom!”

  She looked up and saw Deni coming through the crowd. “Hey, honey. Look what I got Dad for his birthday. And I found this parka for Beth! She’s gonna love this!”

  Deni looked right past her to Martha Green. “Oh, Martha — you’re the one I came to talk to.”

  Martha smiled up at her. “What is it, Deni?”

  But Kay could see from Deni’s face that something was wrong. “Is there word on Zach?”

  “No, not yet,” she said. “But Mark wanted me to come and tell you — ” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “Sheriff Scarbrough came to question Mark about the shooting.”

  “What?”

  “People are saying he did it, since he brought home a deer this morning.”

  Martha stood up, knocking over her lawn chair. “Was he arrested?”

  “No. They just took him to where he was hunting to see if he can prove he was there instead of at the crime scene.”

  Martha grabbed a box and started throwing things in. “I have to go home. I have to get in touch with my husband.”

  “Where is John?” Kay asked.

  “At the conversion plant in Huntsville. They drafted him and sent him there. I don’t know if they’ll let him come home.”

  “Martha, what can I do?”

  Martha threw up her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “You go on. I’ll box your stuff and bring it to you later.”

  They watched as she walked her bike through the crowd and out of the tent. Deni was shaking. Kay hugged her. “Honey, it’s going to be all right. Mark just has to prove he wasn’t near where Zach was shot.”

  “He can’t think of anyone who saw him, Mom. And with this snow . . . what if he can’t find proof?”

  “Sheriff Scarbrough knows Mark’s character. Besides, Zach will wake up. Maybe he has already. He’ll tell them who it really was.” Kay could see that her words weren’t calming Deni.

  “I have to go,” Deni said, starting abruptly away. “I have more people to interview about the shooting.”

  ELEVEN

  MARK LED THE SHERIFF AND DEPUTY JONES THROUGH THE woods behind the Carlisle property. The sheriff had a nasty cough, and Mark knew the icy air wasn’t helping. He hoped he could quickly find evidence that he’d been here and be done with it.

  The snow was coming down hard now, blanketing the ground and collecting on the naked branches. They trudged up over the frosty earth and through the barren trees and reached the deer stand where Mark had spent much of the morning. He showed them where his deer had fallen, but the ground was covered with snow.

  Dropping to his knees, he raked the snow away with his hands until he found a small spot of blood. “There it is,” he said. “This is the spot where he fell.” He hurried to his deer stand and looked for a shell casing or discharged cartridge on the ground below. Kicking away the snow, he realized it might be hard to find. Jones climbed up onto the stand. “Here’s a shell, boss.”

  Mark felt a surge of relief. “See? I told you.”

  Deputy Jones brought it down, and Scarbrough examined it. “Mark, this could have been fired today or two weeks ago. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Sure, it do
es. Sheriff, I told you what you’d find. It’s right here, where I said. It proves I was here.”

  “It doesn’t prove when you were here.”

  “Then why did you come out here? Did you expect the casing to have a date stamp on it? I told you I shot a deer, that I shot it here, and I’ve shown you evidence that I’m not lying. What more can I do?”

  “Show me someone who saw you here today. Give me something I can work with. I need a time.”

  “And what if I can’t?”

  The sheriff just looked at him. “Mark, you see the dilemma I’m in.”

  “I didn’t do it, Sheriff.” Mark opened his arms. “I got here while it was still dark. Unless someone saw me without my realizing it, I was alone until I started home. It can’t be a big surprise that I wouldn’t bring a crowd with me.”

  Scarbrough rubbed his tired face. “Mark, witnesses who saw you bringing the deer home said you were carrying it in a bike trailer with car tires — like the one your dad designed.”

  Mark nodded. “That’s right. You’ve seen my bike trailer.”

  “There were the same kind of tracks at the crime scene.”

  “Sheriff, you can look at my tires, compare the tread. Check to see if it’s the same dirt! You know I’m not the only one with that kind of wagon! People around here have copied that design since my dad came up with it.”

  Jones buried his hands in his pockets. “Want me to get some dirt samples, Sheriff?”

  Scarbrough coughed. “Yeah, go ahead. We’ll need them from both sites and from Mark’s tires. And compare the shell casings at the crime scene with Mark’s guns.”

  Mark couldn’t believe they were treating him as a suspect. “So are you going to arrest me?”

  “That depends on what we find, Mark.”

  Mark threw up his hands. “Sheriff, you know me! You know I’m not the kind of man who would do that!”

  “Right now I’m only interested in the facts, son.”

  Mark decided to keep his mouth shut so he wouldn’t make things worse. But that old bitterness burned inside him.

  Blame Vic’s kid. His dad was a killer, so he must be one too. Anger at his dead father seethed inside him. Even from the grave, he was still jerking him around.