Escaping Memories Read online

  Escaping Memories

  A Lucky Town Novel

  By Amanda Siegrist

  Copyright © 2016 Amanda Siegrist

  This ebook may not be re-sold or re-distributed to another person unless consent is given by this author. If you wish to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. It may not be re-produced in any format for your own rights. If you did not purchase this book, please return to your favorite retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this book are a product of the author's imagination. Places, events, and locations mentioned either are created to help inspire the story or are real and used in a fictitious manner.

  Note: The towns Lucky and Mulhene are fictitious towns in Minnesota, as well as Fortune County. The Twin Cities are real. I also describe the Twin Cities as 'the Cities'. Born and raised in Minnesota, that's what I've always called it.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  He sighed heavily as he closed the folder, wondering why life had to be so cruel. Innocence, beauty, and a sweet abundance of happiness ripped from the little girl before she had a chance to live. Ten years old. Too young to have died.

  "Knock, knock, Sheriff. I hate to bother you, but a...her uncle's here," Deputy Thomas Bolton said, pushing the door open a bit as he stuck his head in. His eyes glanced at the folder just closed, then looked quickly at the sheriff.

  "Thanks, Bolt. I'll be right out," Logan replied, nodding his head.

  Bolt nodded back, popped his head out of the door, and walked away in a hurry. Logan placed a tiring hand on the folder, stood up, and walked out of his office to handle what he never thought he'd see in this small town. He grew up in Lucky, lived most of his life in this great town, only having ventured out a few years in Minneapolis as a beat cop. That's where reality slammed in his face, bringing him back home to his tranquil sanctuary. He saw death, hatred, abuse, cruelty to one another and to one's own self, and too many other things he wished to forget. He hadn't wanted to live within that ugliness. He wanted peace, small town happiness, the random idiocy, and petty squabbles that meandered throughout the county.

  He had finally felt at home when he walked into the sheriff's office just days after he moved home, asking for a position as a deputy. Sheriff Bob Overly had jovially accepted him into their family, a tight-knit place with only two deputies, and Charlotte, the queen of the front desk. Five years later, Logan found himself in the sheriff's position when Bob retired and the small county of Fortunate graciously voted him in. He hadn't even put his name on the ballot, but the county took it upon themselves to do it for him. Or more like Charlotte had without his permission after he heard a few whispers around Lucky. The county had loved Bob as their sheriff, and two years into his term, they were loving him as well.

  Logan ran a ragged hand over his face, let out a calming breath, and pasted on a friendly smile as he turned the corner to the front area. The walk from his office, located at the end of the hallway, wasn't far enough. This walk hadn't taken him that long, and the dreadful conversation he was about to have, plagued him, making him wish he could continue walking right out the doors.

  "Mr. Thomas, I'm Sheriff Caldwell. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances," Logan said, holding his hand out to shake hands with the man.

  "Sheriff…my niece...where's her body?" Mr. Thomas asked with a shaky breath.

  "She's currently at the clinic, sir. We're a small town here in Lucky. We don't have a coroner's office, or a hospital. I thought it was the best place for her at the time. Thank you for coming so quickly," Logan replied, trying his best to keep his composure.

  "I understand. Does an autopsy need to be done? I want everything to...what the hell happened, Sheriff?" Mr. Thomas asked with a strangled cry.

  "Would you like to talk in my office, Mr. Thomas?" Logan asked sympathetically, gesturing a hand towards the hallway that led to his office.

  "No. I want answers, Sheriff. Then I want to get the hell out of here with my niece."

  "I've never had a problem with your brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas. No calls of service ever to that residence. No reports from the school of anything unusual. I want you to know if I had come across any of that, it would've been taken care of. Unfortunately, nobody in town suspected anything. There's no need for an autopsy...because I witnessed most of it myself. Early this morning we received a report of shots fired at their residence. I was already in my vehicle and made it just a few minutes later. Mr. Baxter was standing on the porch when I arrived, the gun pointed at his head. I saw your niece Brittany lying in the front yard with multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. Before I could even utter a word to Mr. Baxter, he shot himself in the head. Brittany was already dead, Mr. Thomas. If you would like an autopsy done, I can arrange that," Logan said, looking the man in the eye the entire time.

  "No, that's fine, Sheriff. I should've known something was wrong. Her mother...my sister...dying last year...she struggled with her death. I never really cared for Baxter, but he was her father. It's not like I could just take her home with me. She never said he was abusive, but I just knew she was unhappy. I should've known. I should've."

  Logan placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Mr. Thomas. I wish I would have known as well. But the sad reality is, how could any of us have known? Sometimes we just don't know what goes on behind closed doors. You can't blame yourself. Think of your niece with happy memories. That's what she would want. I can walk with you to the clinic if you'd like to see her, or I can help with the arrangements for her funeral. You tell me what you need and I will help."

  "I think I'd like to walk myself, Sheriff. You've done enough. Throw some fire on Baxter's body and let him rot in hell. That's the only thing I need you to do," Mr. Thomas said with ferocity. Without waiting for a response, he turned around, and stomped out of the building.

  "Damn! And you dealt with that on a daily basis in the Cities. I don't know how you did it, Logie," Charlotte said with awe.

  Logan looked over at Charlotte with tenderness in his eyes. "Char-Char, I never dealt with that on a daily basis. If I did, I would have never lasted five years down in the Cities like I did. Did I see death? Yes, but that just now…was hard. This is my town and I can't believe this happened."

  "Must you call me Char-Char," Charlotte said with a sliced tone, even as she smiled.

  "Must you call me Logie," Logan countered back.

  Charlotte pierced her eyes in a measuring manner, then laughed. "I sure do love you, Sheriff. And you can't prevent all tragedies. Just like you told him, it's not your fault."

  "I know. It still hurts, though. It's my job to keep the county safe, to keep it in peace. And I feel like I failed today," Logan said, looking back at the door Mr. Thomas walked out of, wishing he had never walked in to begin with.

  He loved this small town with all his heart, and now tarnished with a horrible memory. Lucky, MN, population 381. Rarely did a newcomer move in and announce, "This is it. This is the place where I want to be." Most people, if a chance presented itself, moved out. This town provided nothing for advancement. Only peace, friendliness, and a sense of community.
If that's what a person wanted, they stayed, if they didn't, they hightailed it out of town without a backward glance. He suddenly wanted to do just that.

  "Why are you still here? Leave already," Charlotte said with annoyance.

  "You are the bossiest woman I know…besides Kat. I thought I was the sheriff here."

  "You are the sheriff. A damn fine one, too. But, if I recall correctly, which I have an excellent memory, your vacation started today. You shouldn't even be in the office standing in front of my beautiful face."

  "I need to be here. A little girl died today. I can't start a vacation with that knowledge, with that heaviness on my heart. I will leave when I know Mr. Thomas needs nothing else from me."

  "I don't know how you survived in the Cities. You're such a damn softie," Charlotte said with a grin.

  Logan shook his head in amazement. "I don't know how I did either, Charlotte." He glanced one more time at the door, remembering Mr. Thomas's forlorn look as he walked out. "I'll be in my office if anyone needs me. Let me know right away if Mr. Thomas needs me for anything. And I mean anything, Charlotte. Don't go taking care of anything for me without asking."

  Charlotte placed a hand on her chest in an innocent gesture. "Me...do that? Never."

  Logan shook his head, laughing, as he walked back to his office.

  ***

  She saw the sun dipping down into darkness. She wanted to scream to the heavens to stop the sun's movement. She needed the light. She needed it to show her the way out. She had suffered the darkness for too long. She didn't want to suffer in it anymore.

  She turned her head behind her as she heard a twig snap. She saw nothing in her vision, peripheral or otherwise, turning her head back to the front, and tried to run faster through the woods before he caught up to her. She assumed he was in pursuit. She didn't stick around to find out if he heard her finally get the door open. She just ran and never looked back. And she decided, as she heard another twig break, she wasn't going to look back now either. She refused to go back. She refused to see the darkness again. She hated it.

  She cried out softly as a branch hit her cheek, stumbling a bit as it knocked her off balance. She corrected her feet before she went head first into the ground and continued running. She would run until her feet gave out. She would stop for nothing. Or she would die. She knew it with every breath in her body. If he found her, he would kill her.

  She stumbled again as a small log tripped her feet, but thankfully she managed to stay afoot as she kept running. Each step brought her further away from the madness, yet brought the sun ticking down from the sky, cloaking her in a darkness that threatened to paralyze her. She couldn't decide what was worse—difficulty seeing with the dark wrapping her up into the deep abyss. Or getting caught by the man who had been her daily terror for so long she couldn't remember what day it was.

  She heard another sound, louder than a twig breaking, making her instinctively turn around. She saw nothing, but it didn't matter if she had. That movement was her undoing. The exact moment she turned her head was the exact moment she stepped into a hole. She caught her foot in the hole, plunging forward, messing with her rhythm. She had no time to correct herself and fell hard into the ground. She rolled several times, waiting for the momentum to stop, to get up, get back in her fluid pace of escape.

  But only air and the raging speed of rolling increased. She knew she hit trouble, hit her last thread of life as she tumbled down the hill.

  ***

  Logan shut the truck off, his hands lingering on the keys as he stared at his cabin. He loved his cabin. His town provided peace and a sense of home, but nothing could compare to his cabin. Nestled nicely fifteen miles out of town, deep in the woods with nothing but wildlife and the fresh outdoor air surrounding it, his cabin was his haven. If he truly wanted peace, this is where he came.

  He sighed heavily, hating how his vacation started, but glad to have the day finally over. Mr. Thomas had come back, red-eyed and distraught, from the clinic. Logan took over from that point on. He arranged for the transport of Brittany's body to Mr. Thomas's hometown. He filled out all the paperwork, made all the calls, and provided Mr. Thomas the relief that nothing would be left undone.

  He had also made the calls to Mr. Baxter's family as well, offering the same helpful gesture to them as he did Mr. Thomas. It wasn't their fault that Mr. Baxter was a bastard and killed his own daughter. Even with a few reminders of that to himself, he couldn't shake the malicious feeling Baxter deserved nothing. No sympathy whatsoever. But in the end, they declined his help, and his sympathy. They were ashamed, embarrassed to know what their son had done. The guilt poured out in every word they spoke, just as it had in Mr. Thomas's voice.

  He rubbed another hand over his face in frustration, pulled the keys from the ignition, and opened the door. This was his safe haven. He refused to allow the tragedy of the day to ruin that. He had to move on. Brittany wasn't coming back. He needed to accept that. Yet, as he grabbed his bag from the cab of his truck, he struggled with that. How could he move on? How could he live with himself? He was the sheriff, damn it! He needed to see these things. He needed to see the first signs of trouble and stop it before it turned into the ugliness he walked away from.

  He walked slowly to the cabin door, breathing in the cool night air, and tried grabbing a bit of the woods peacefulness. He finally felt a billowing calm sweep in. This is what he needed. A week of fresh outdoor air, mingling with nature, and putting that horror behind him. Even though his vacation officially started the moment he left the office, he had his phone strapped to his hip just in case a call came through. He was the sheriff, after all.

  He left Deputy Derek Graham in charge while he was gone. He trusted him with the authority. Not to mention Derek had the most experience within the department. The county should've voted Derek as the sheriff, not him. Except, Derek hadn't wanted the sheriff's position. He had kindly congratulated Logan on the win and breathed a sigh of relief. He liked deputy status and had no desire for anything else, even playing active sheriff while Logan was on vacation. But Logan wouldn't let him argue about it. Logan reminded him that he had the most experience and he trusted him the most.

  Logan walked up the steps to the cabin, taking a few glances around him just to appreciate the wilderness at its finest. A small disappointment swept through him when he saw no wildlife meandering around. His mind drifted to the times he came up here with his father and how they would sit on the porch as a deer would walk through, oblivious of them enjoying the night air. Rabbits, foxes, and even a few coyotes had walked through, saying hi and moseying on by. At that moment, he wished for something to cross his path. Something to take the horrible sight of that little girl's body out of his mind. He needed something to erase it all.

  He blew another small breath to release the tension that filled him up from the morning and made the last few steps to his door. He twisted the knob with ease, pushing the door open, and stepped inside. It never crossed his mind to lock his doors. Nobody ventured up here anyway. His little cabin was hidden from the world. Just as he liked it. He formed the habit of locking his door in town, something he developed from the small stint in the Cities, but not here. This was his safe haven. There was no need to lock the door. And if a wandering stranger felt the need to take refuge while Logan was away, then so be it. As long as they left it in the same state he did, he didn't mind.

  He dropped his bag to the side and fumbled for the switch on the wall to his left, the tension still messing with his mind, finally finding it after a few seconds of irritation. He knew this cabin like he knew the back of his hand. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to let go of the pain already. Charlotte was right. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known that Mr. Baxter would kill his own little girl this morning. He just couldn't have. But he should've. That was the entire problem he grappled with.

  To his further irritation, no light illuminated his cabin when he flicked the switch up. Damn! A burned light bul
b. He swore viciously under his breath as he walked to his right where the kitchen sat situated in the dark.

  He moved a bit to his left, walking around the table that he knew sat in his way, and bee-lined it to the sink. He grabbed the handle, pulling it harder than he should have, and nearly fell on his ass when the knob flew off.

  "Are you...kidding me?" he mumbled, as he threw the knob to the floor in aggravation.

  He grabbed the other doorknob, opening it with less force than the first one, and shuffled his hands inside. He felt the box that he knew would be there with extra light bulbs. He finally smiled, knowing he just needed to think positive. He pulled the box out, opened the lid, and groaned at the emptiness that stared back.

  He threw the box across the floor and slammed the door shut. He ran a haggard hand over his face, trying to calm down. It's not a big deal. He knew he had light bulbs in the bathroom as well. He would not think this a bad sign of his first day of vacation. His first clue would've been the loss of the sweet innocence he had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

  He stood up; his eyes already adjusted to the darkness, and continued to the bathroom down the hallway to his right. He walked slowly, his mind everywhere but where it should be and stepped inside the bathroom.

  He stumbled a bit as his feet collided with something solid. "What the hell?" he muttered, looking down at the floor.

  Before he could process what his eyes were seeing, he went down in a heap of pain as the woman lying on the bathroom floor kicked him in the knee.

  He moaned in pain, just barely dodging another kick issued by the woman. "Hey, knock it off. Quit kicking at me."

  "Get out!" she screamed, as she kicked again, nearly hitting him in the crotch.

  He managed to scramble back, jumping up with a quickness he learned from the many years of running track in high school, and groaned in pain as his knee almost gave out. He saw out of the corner of his eye the woman aiming for another shot at him, as he bounded out of the way.