Sorrow Road (Bell Elkins #5) - Julia Keller Page 0,6

above it, and good for her—but when Darlene glanced down at the creased and greasy-looking tabletop, Bell guessed, it probably came back to her, all of it, just for a moment. And a moment was long enough.

“When we were in law school,” Darlene said.

Bell waited.

“When we were in law school,” Darlene repeated, needing to start again, “I didn’t like you very much. I’m sure you figured that out.” She lifted her head and looked at Bell with a solemn, unblinking stare.

Bell shrugged. “If there was one seat left in the Williams Law Library, and that seat was next to me, you’d leave the building. Find somewhere else to study.”

“Was I really that bad?”

“I’m exaggerating. But, yeah—I picked up on your attitude and just steered clear.”

“We come from the same place. And I wanted to be the Appalachian success story, you know? I wanted to be that woman. I didn’t care to share any of it with you. Plus, I was jealous.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I mean it. You had a handsome husband and a cute little baby girl and a life—a real life. You know what I had? I had a studio apartment and a rusty bike and a debt total that was rising so high and so fast I couldn’t see over it anymore.” Her voice shifted, lightened, lost its load of bitterness. “And my dad. I had my dad.” She smiled. The smile chased the bleakness out of her face. “He believed in me, Bell. As little as he had, he gave it to me. So that I could make something of myself. And not just money. He’d send me these amazing letters twice, three times a week. That’s what kept me going—seeing that West Virginia postmark. I’d run home after class and I’d tear open those letters and I’d read every word. Just standing there, holding my books. I was hungry and tired—it didn’t matter. I’d still stand there, reading every damned word. I couldn’t wait. I craved those letters. Needed them. Turns out that’s what I was really hungry for.”

“Just takes one.”

“One what?”

“One person who believes in you,” Bell said. “The rest of the world can go to hell—as long as you’ve got one person in your corner.” Darlene did not ask, but if she had, Bell would have told her that for her, the one person had been Nick Fogelsong, former sheriff of Raythune County. He’d known her since she was ten years old. He’d seen her through all the major phases of her life, good and bad. Without him, her life would have been … Well, she did not want to finish that sentence. “Your dad must have been pretty special.”

“He was. He really was. Anyone who knew him will tell you that. He’d never been out of Barr County in his life and then—boom. Right after Pearl Harbor, he runs down and he enlists. Him and his two best friends. He was only fifteen, so he had to lie about his age. Served in the Navy. He was part of the D-Day landing. Never talked about it, but I got the story from other people over the years. He was a great man. A truly great man.” Darlene swallowed hard. “Which is why you’re going to be surprised at what I came here to tell you tonight.”

“What’s that?”

Darlene leaned across the table. Her face had changed. The look in her eye was unsettling.

“I killed him,” she said.

“You—”

“I didn’t pull a trigger. But I saw there was something going on. I should have forced that director to get to the bottom of it. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. Because now my father is dead. He trusted me to take care of him, and I let him down.” Her jaw tightened. When she spoke again, her voice had a lost and pleading quality to it. “If you don’t help me—someone’s going to get away with murder.”

* * *

Bell stood alongside her Ford Explorer in the dark parking lot. She watched the snow come down in a furious, wind-driven swirl, the millions of bits briefly illuminated as they intersected with the thin triangle of light provided by the single bulb fastened to a pole alongside the lot.

By now the snow completely covered the gravel. It piled up in sugary peaks and tufts against the tires of the cars. It smothered windshields like grave blankets.

Back in the bar, she had listened to the rest of Darlene’s story. It was long on accusation, short on evidence.