Lover's Leap (10 page)

“What was his name?”

“I don’t know. Honestly. His buddies called him Moose.”

Moose
. The visual on that didn’t help Cam’s blood pressure one bit. Dev getting into fights was bad enough. Fighting kids twice his size was downright stupid. Cam sighed and rubbed his temples. Fretting about Lori, and now worrying about Devin, had given him a headache. Couldn’t he have issues with only one kid at a time? How did parents manage when they had three or four or more? Made him shudder to think about it.

“Devin, here’s the deal. I’m tied up in knots already as things stand, and I just don’t have patience tonight for teeth pulling. This is Eternity Springs, and there’s a backstory here you don’t know. Tell me the details—who, what, when, where, why—and don’t leave anything out.”

“Tomorrow,” Devin said, turning toward his room. “I don’t have patience for this, either, right now. My nose is killing me.”

“That’s not all that will be killing you if you don’t stop right where you are and start talking. I mean it, Dev. Consider this …” Cam lifted both arms chest-high, fisted both hands, and crossed them at the wrists.

This was the diving signal for danger. He’d taught Devin the importance of it before he ever took him into the pool for his first diving lesson. The kid knew not to ignore the signal. Ever. Cam used it on such rare occasions, Devin understood he had no choice but to spill the story. He exhaled a hard, frustrated sigh, then said, “Fine. Ryan—he’s the third baseman for the Grizzlies—he got a call from his ex-girlfriend tonight. She’d gone to some roadhouse with a guy.”

Cam got a sudden bad feeling. “What roadhouse?”

“A dive called the Bear Cave Bar.”

Cam shut his eyes, and his stomach took a nauseated turn. Devin knew what had transpired to land Cam in jail all those years ago, but he didn’t know the details. Bear Cave was one of the details. Bad things happen at the Bear Cave Bar.

“He was drunk, so she was begging a ride home,” Devin continued. “I went with Ryan to get her. The thug was hassling her, and I distracted him so that Ryan could get his girl into the car.”

“You threw the first punch?”

Dev hesitated just a second before saying, “Yes.”

The evasion in Dev’s eyes caused Cam to keep pushing. “You threw a punch to distract a guy? I don’t think so. You’re smarter than that, Dev. You can talk your way out of almost anything. What really happened?”

Devin scowled, then winced as the movement made his face hurt. “All right. Look, the goon said something that wasn’t called for, and I let it get to me. It was dumb of me. I know. I lost my temper. What is it with the people in this town, Dad? Some of them are great. The nicest people ever. But others …” He tested a tooth with his tongue and muttered, “Assholes.”

Now Cam had a sense of what had transpired. This was about him. “What did he say about me?”

Fury flashed across his son’s face, proving that Cam’s instincts had been spot-on. “I’m not going to repeat that trash.”

“Do you know the names of any of the kids he was with?”

Cam recognized two of the surnames his son mentioned, and he wasn’t surprised. He also had a pretty good clue of what “trash” they were talking. “They were kids, not men my age?”

“They were young. Well, except for this one guy. They called him Hoss. He looked older than you. He acted like he owned the bar, but he was the one doling out the beer, and when the law did show up, he disappeared.”

Now Cam’s stomach rolled. “The sheriff showed up? An old guy? Sheriff Norris?”

“Nah, this guy’s about your age. Zach Turner. He’s okay. He made sure nobody was too tore up, told us not to be stupid anymore, and sent us home.”

“What about the drunk who was hassling the girl?”

Devin smirked. “He was arrested. Minor in possession and public intoxication. It was great.”

As Cam released a heavy sigh, Devin continued, “That’s all that happened. Really, Dad. I’m sorry I lost my cool. I won’t let it happen again.”

Cam rubbed the back of his neck. “Dev, I told you to expect some grief from people around here.”

“That wasn’t grief. It was bullshit, Dad.”

“Nevertheless, we knew we’d get some of it. I appreciate that you’d want to defend me, but fists aren’t the way to do it. You know how I feel about fighting. You know why.” His mouth twisted in a sad, troubled grin. “I cannot believe you managed to get into a fistfight at the Bear Cave. ‘Of all the gin joints in all the world.’ ”

“Huh?”

“That’s where the accident happened, Dev. In the parking lot behind the Bear Cave Bar.”

His son’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, man. Whoa. That sucks. I’m sorry, Dad. Really sorry.” He thought for a moment, then added, “That explains a thing or two about some of the things he said.”

“Remember what I’ve preached to you for months. You can’t talk with your fists or think with your fists, son. You gotta use your head. Always.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

When Cam narrowed his eyes and stared hard, Devin quickly added, “That wasn’t a smart-ass answer. At least I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I said I know because I
do
know you’re right. It was a stupid thing to do. I guess my head just checked out. When we first came here I was ready for anything, but when everybody was so nice and welcoming, I relaxed. The nimrod at the bar caught me off guard.”

Cam reached out and put a hand on Devin’s shoulder. “If being in Eternity Springs gets to be too hard, you tell me, and we’ll figure something else out. That was part of the deal, too.”

“I like it here. It’ll be okay, Dad. It will.”

“You’ll stay away from the Bear Cave?”

“Sure.” He hesitated, then flashed a wicked grin. “Rick says the Mountaineer Club is a much better place for kids our age to go drinking.”

“Brat.” Cam lifted his foot and gave the boy a gentle kick in the rear. “Go take a shower. Wash off that blood.”

Devin grinned and headed for the bathroom. Moments later, the shower switched on.

Cam stood in the center of the small house, his hands on his hips, thinking about Devin and Lori and past sins and future hopes. The walls began to close in around him.

And the phone still didn’t ring.

“Enough of this,” he muttered, then strode toward the bathroom door. He rapped on it with his knuckles. “Dev, I’m going out for a little while. Consider yourself confined to the house. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The devil rode Cam’s shoulder as he climbed into his rental and pulled away from the curb. He debated stopping by Sarah’s, but he knew it’d be a waste of time. If Lori’s reaction had been positive, either she or Sarah would have called. The silent telephone told it all.

Cam turned onto Spruce Street and, without admitting his destination to himself, took the highway south, toward the Bear Cave Bar. Toward his biggest nightmare.

EIGHT

The highway sign hadn’t changed—red neon letters against a white background and a poorly designed logo of a bear poking his head out of a cave. The building was long, narrow, and windowless; the parking lot, gravel. Cam had never entered the place—all of the action had taken place behind the Bear Cave Bar.

Eternity Springs teens had worked hard to get alcohol back in Cam’s day. The Trading Post had stocked beer and wine, but Sarah’s parents had kept an eagle eye on who bought how much. The liquor store’s owner hadn’t sold to minors, and he’d followed the Reeses’ example when it came to selling to young adults. If Old Man Wilson suspected a guy of buying for someone else, he’d cut him off. Of course, kids always found a way, and in Eternity Springs, the Larabie brothers had a nice little import business going. They’d taken orders, made a beer and booze run to a supplier in Gunnison, then sold it out of their trunk.

The other source in the county for beer had been Lana Freeman, the weekend waitress at the Bear Cave. She’d sell beer out of the back of the bar when her boss wasn’t looking.

Having a drunk for a father had given Cam almost unlimited access to alcohol—the one positive thing he credited to being Brian Murphy’s son. He hadn’t needed to buy from the Larabies or to go out to the Bear Cave to drink. He’d gone to the Bear Cave to hang out, because that’s what high school guys did after taking their dates home.

Now twenty years out of high school, Cam counted two cars and four trucks parked in front of the Bear Cave as he pulled into the parking lot. The old ghosts controlling his steering wheel guided him around to the back lot. There, he shifted into park, stared into the shadows, and traveled back into his past.

“I gotta go,” sixteen-year-old Sarah said, pulling out of his arms. They were hidden in the shadows beneath the sprawling cottonwood tree in the empty lot two doors down from her house. “If I’m late for curfew again, Daddy’s gonna kill me.”

Cam groaned and reached for her. “Just one more kiss.”

Sarah laughed and swatted at his hands. “That’s what you said three kisses ago.”

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said as she buttoned up her shirt. “You are so beautiful, Sarah. Friday can’t get here fast enough.”

Friday night they had plans to go back up to Lover’s Leap, the picturesque bluff high above Hummingbird Lake where they’d made love for the first time four months ago. With winter closing in, their opportunities for blanket time were dwindling. In anticipation of that, Cam had been working around the dump where he lived with his dad, trying to fix it up to the point where he wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring Sarah into his room when it was too cold for them to be together outdoors
.

“I can’t wait for Friday, either,” she told him, reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand
.

Her shy smile reached all the way into his heart. “I love you, Sarah Reese.”

“I love you, too, Cameron Murphy.”

She went up onto her tiptoes, pressed one last quick kiss against his mouth, then raced home to beat the clock, leaving Cam itchy with arousal and looking for a distraction. He thought about going for a run on the trail that ringed Hummingbird Lake, but he decided that he didn’t want to be alone. He’d drive out to the Bear Cave and see what was happening out there
.

Fifteen minutes later, he spotted his father’s truck parked in front of the roadhouse and almost turned around but didn’t. Chances were slim that he’d run into his old man outside the building. Cam pulled his rattletrap Jeep around to the back lot of the Bear Cave and pulled in beside the shiny red Firebird—the high school graduation present of one of the rich kids in town
.

The back lot was feebly lit by a single light atop a pole and the headlamps of two pickup trucks, one belonging to Cam’s friend Les Ayers. The crowd this weekday night was small. Les and another friend, Rob Knautz, sat on the lowered tailgate of Rob’s pickup. The Firebird driver and two of his friends milled around two girls Cam didn’t recognize. Tourists, probably. He pegged the blue Ford sedan parked on the other side of the Firebird as theirs, likely a rental
.

Cam climbed out of his Jeep and approached Les and Rob. Rob handed him a flask, and two quick swigs of whiskey preceded two beers that he bought from the waitress at the Bear Cave’s back door, then downed in less than ten minutes. He figured the quicker he got drunk, the faster he’d be rid of his blue balls
.

“Whatcha been doing tonight?” Les asked
.

“Watching baseball. St. Louis scored four in the bottom of the ninth to beat the Mets four to three.” He knew this because he’d heard it on the radio on his way out of Eternity Springs
.

He and his friends talked baseball for a bit, and Cam was considering buying his third beer when he saw Andrew Cook grab for one of the girls. She pulled away from him, giggling nervously, and when Cook kept after her, Cam frowned
.

“That guy is such a prick,” Les Ayers said of Cook as he took a swig from his bottle of beer
.

The second girl snapped something at the boys, then flounced away toward the car, calling for her friend to join her. The first girl stepped toward the car, but Cook latched onto her arm and pulled her back toward him. Cam tensed and took a step toward the pair, prepared to help, when the girl wrenched herself away from Cook and dashed toward the car. Tires scrunched against the gravel as the girls drove off
.

“Bitches,” Cook’s companion called after them
.

It was only the first in a long list of ugly slurs that flowed from the others’ mouths. Cam got tired of listening to it
.

The soon-to-be frat boys reloaded on beers and expanded their discussion about cock-teasing females, both in breadth and in volume. Cam attempted to bring his own conversation back to baseball, but when Cook started spouting off about local girls, Cam couldn’t help but tune in
.

They were talking about the females in their class. This girl put out. That girl liked girls. Another one would die a virgin. When they brought up a girl in the junior class, Cam tensed. Something needed to distract them before one of them up and said something about Sarah
.

Cam thought he’d get his wish when the back door of the Bear Cave banged open and a man stumbled out, unzipped his fly, and began taking a piss off the back stoop. Cam identified the drunk at the same time Cook called out, “Hey, Murphy. Isn’t that your old man? Talk about a worthless piece of crap. How does it feel to be related to the town drunk?”

“Maybe you should ask your sister,” Cam returned
.

Cook’s alcohol-glazed eyes flashed. “Very funny coming from the son of a killer.”

Cam didn’t want to defend his father in any way, shape, or form, but he couldn’t let that particular rumor go unchallenged. “My dad didn’t kill anybody.”

“That’s not how I heard it.” He hollered toward the stoop. “Hey, old man. Didn’t you kill your wife? Didn’t you knock her up then leave her to bleed away her baby and die on the bathroom floor?”

Brian Murphy lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the headlights pointing his way. Slurring his words, he asked, “Who’s there?”

“Your guilty conscience,” Cook’s friend called back
.

“Go away.” Brian lurched around, then stumbled back inside
.

Cook’s group laughed and continued to make catcalls. Cam turned away from them, pretending not to see the pity on his friends’ faces
.

Officially, Brian Murphy wasn’t responsible for his wife’s death. He hadn’t done anything directly to bring on her miscarriage and subsequent hemorrhage, but he had been out drinking instead of home where he belonged when the tragedy happened. Eight-year-old Cam had been the one who found his mother and summoned help that had arrived too late
.

The paramedic’s words at the time were etched in his mind
. It’s not your fault, Cam. It’s not anyone’s fault. Sometimes, these things just happen. It’s Mother Nature.

“Who wants another beer?” he asked Les and Rob as another car pulled into the back lot. “I’m buying.”

A few minutes later, he headed back toward Les’s truck carrying three cans of beer. Two older guys had joined Cook’s crowd, and the group had drifted closer to Cam’s, which meant Cam walked within arm’s reach of Cook. He halfway expected words, but he didn’t anticipate that Cook would make a grab for the beers and steal one, saying, “I’ll take this. Don’t want you ending up a drunk like your dear old dad.”

Cam hesitated, denting the two remaining cans as his hands clenched them hard. It was all he could do not to throw the remaining beers at the bully’s head. “Do it,” Cook sneered. “I dare you.”

It was just what Cam needed to walk on by. Be damned if he’d give Cook that level of control. “Keep it, Cookie,” Cam drawled. “I suspect you’ve already used up all the allowance your mommy gave you.”

Cook muttered something beneath his breath. At the truck, Cam handed a beer to Les, but Rob refused his. “You drink it. I gotta get going. I have to be at work early.”

“Do you still like working at the Double R?” Cam asked. “Maybe I’ll look into a job there next summer.” He took a long drag on the can. He wasn’t sloppy drunk, but he wasn’t feeling any pain
.

“Yeah, I do. The tourists are usually pretty happy to be taking a trail ride up to the high meadows. It’s fun.”

“You loser,” Cook said, having drifted closer to the truck and eavesdropped on the conversation. “You ride horses with tourists. Me, I prefer riding tourists.”

In the next minute, a number of things happened almost simultaneously. Les told Rob that he needed to get a movie out of his truck before Rob left, and Cam’s two friends crossed the lot to the cab of Rob’s truck, taking them out of earshot about the same time one of Cook’s buddies said, “I thought you were riding Nic Sullivan.”

Then the back door of the Bear Cave banged open and Brian Murphy stormed outside just as Cook replied, “Not yet. Though she’s on my radar. She is one sweet piece. Her and her little friend, Sarah Reese. A sweet piece and a tasty morsel. I know. I have proof. A picture I snapped in the locker room showers. A naked piece and morsel. Wanna see?”

Locker room pictures?
Cam’s spine snapped straight
.

Brian Murphy called out drunkenly, “I didn’t kill my wife! I loved her. Damn you to hell for saying I hurt my Cassie. Cam. Tell him. Tell him I didn’t hurt your mother.”

While Brian was talking, Les started back toward his truck with a rental video in his hand, and Rob turned the key of his truck and started the engine. Cam started toward Cook, who was pulling a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, saying, “They never saw me. Best dare I ever took. Earned me fifty dollars and I got this.” He smirked and added, “Excuse the stains.”

Sarah.
Cam went red with rage. He launched himself at Cook, reaching for the wallet, determined to get that photograph and destroy it
.

“Tell him, son,” his father cried. “Tell him I didn’t do it.”

Cam grabbed the wallet with his left hand and drew back his right. “You bastard. You sorry bastard.”

His fist flew. Knuckles connected with jaw. Pain radiated up Cam’s arm from his fist
.

Cook staggered back a step, then regrouped and came at Cam, landing a puffball of a punch. Cam went after Cook hard with punches to his gut followed by another one to his jaw, just as Rob’s truck turned in the parking lot. The beam of the headlights tracked across the log lying to the right of the fight as Cook’s head snapped back. He staggered again, but this time couldn’t maintain his balance. Cam yanked the photograph from the bastard’s wallet as Cook went down, his head hitting the log with a terrible
thunk.

Cam shoved the photo in his pocket
.

Cook rolled to the ground and lay still
.

Dead still
.

Two decades later, Cam once again experienced that rush of horror, wash of panic, and wave of shame. That moment and the twenty-four hours following it remained etched in his memory. Cook’s stillness. The frantic calls for help. The arrival of the sheriff and, following an interminable time, the ambulance. Being arrested, the verbal attack of Andrew Cook’s father. Sheriff Norris’s reaction when he referred to the contents of Cam’s pockets.

Cam tried to explain that Cook had taken the photograph, not him, but the sheriff refused to listen to it. After all, Cam was a no-good Murphy. Case closed.

Cam had tried to tell the truth one more time to his public defender, who did appear to believe him, though it didn’t do him any good. His lawyer pointed out that while protecting the modesty of two Eternity Springs teens was a laudable action, it didn’t offset the fact that Cam had beaten a prominent Eternity Springs citizen into a coma.