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that’s for certain.”
    After a moment, he continued. “In the end, of course, the town had little recourse. The factory was built. Money began pouring into Cypress Springs. The town grew. And people’s worst predictions came true.”
    He stood and turned toward the window behind his desk. He gazed out, though Avery knew there was little to see—just a dead-end alley and the shadow of the courthouse.
    â€œI love this town,” he said without looking at her. “Grew up here, raised my family here. I’ll die here, I suspect. Those four months in 1988 were the only time I considered leaving.”
    He turned and met her eyes. “The crime rate began to climb. We’re talking the serious stuff, the kind of crimes we’d never seen in Cypress Springs. Rape. Armed robbery. Prostitution, for God’s sake.”
    He released a weary-sounding breath. “It didn’t happen overnight, of course. It sneaked up on us. An isolated crime here, another there. I called them flukes. Pretty soon, I couldn’t call them that anymore. Same with some of the other changes occurring in the community. Teenage pregnancies began to rise. As did the divorce rate. Suddenly, we were having the kind of trouble at the high school they had at big-city schools—alcohol, drugs, fighting.”
    She vaguely recalled fights, and somebody getting caught smoking pot in the bathroom of the high school. She had been insulated from it all, she realized. In her warm, protected womb.
    â€œIt must have been difficult for you,” she said.
    â€œFolks were scared. And angry. Real angry. The town was turning into a place they didn’t like. Naturally they turned their anger on me.”
    â€œThey felt you weren’t doing enough.”
    It wasn’t a question but he nodded anyway. “I was in over my head, no doubt about it. Didn’t have the manpower or the experience to deal with the increased crime rate. Hell, our specialty had been traffic violations, the occasional barroom brawl and sticky-fingered kids shoplifting bubble gum from the five-and-dime. Then Sallie Waguespack was killed.”
    He returned to his chair and sank heavily onto it. “This town went ballistic. The murder was grisly. She was young, pretty and had her whole life ahead of her. Her killers were high on drugs. There’s just nothing easy about that scenario.”
    â€œWhy’d they kill her, Buddy?”
    â€œWe don’t know. We suspect the motive was robbery but—”
    â€œBut,” she prodded.
    â€œLike I said, she was young and pretty. And wild. They ran in the same crowd, frequented the same kinds of places. The Pruitt boys knew her. Could have been that one—or both—of them were romantically involved with her. Maybe they fought. Maybe she tried to break it off. Won’t know any of that for sure, but what I do know is, the evidence against them was rock solid.”
    He fell silent. She thought a moment, going over the things he had told her, trying to find where her father fit in. If he fit in. “What happened then, Buddy?”
    He blinked. “We closed the case.”
    â€œNot that, I mean with the community. The crime rate.”
    â€œThings quieted down, they always do. Some good came of Sallie’s death. People stopped taking the community, their quality of life, for granted. They realized that safety and a community spirit were worth working for. People started watching out for each other. Caring more. Service groups formed to help those in need. Drug awareness began being taught in the schools. As did sex education. Counseling was provided for those in need. Instead of condemning people in crisis, we began to offer help. The citizens voted to increase my budget and I put more officers on the street. The crime rate began to fall.”
    â€œMy first thought upon driving into town was how unchanged Cypress Springs seemed.”
    â€œA lot of effort