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“She said Ellen accosted her.”
Talulah lifted her eyebrows to indicate she didn’t agree with that interpretation. “Did she tell you why?”
Jane looked slightly confused. “She said Ellen doesn’t think Averil’s treating you right, that she should forgive you for Brant. Is that what you mean?”
“It wasn’t about Brant, Jane. What Averil apparently didn’t tell you was that Ellen overheard her say she hopes the diner fails—that I would deserve that. Then maybe Brant would divorce me, and I’d move back to Seattle and get the hell out of town so she wouldn’t have to see my ugly face.”
“Oh, wow. Now I get it.” Jane tucked her long blond hair behind her ears. “Then I’m glad Ellen didn’t just let it go.” She took another sip of her drink. “No wonder Averil didn’t get too specific. Just said that Ellen’s a bitch.”
The text Talulah had received from Ellen indicated someone had spray-painted those exact words on a broken-down chicken coop on the Haslem property. Calling someone a bitch was a common enough occurrence. And yet the echo was a bit jarring. “You don’t think Averil would try to get even with Ellen by sabotaging a well she’s drilling, do you?”
Jane set her drink down again. “Sabotaging? You mean...damaging it in some way?”
“Yeah. Like putting cement down the hole so the water can’t come out. Last night someone did that to a well Ellen just finished drilling, and she had to spend all day getting it out.”
“No...” Jane shook her head, but her voice revealed a desire to remain loyal more than rock-solid belief.
“Even if she was influenced by some hot guy she’d met and was excited to have the chance to finally strike back at someone who’s embarrassed her in public and outed her where I’m concerned?”
Jane’s expression grew more and more doubtful as her conviction began to crumble. “I don’tthinkshe’d ever do that,” she said. “But...”
“What?” Talulah prompted.
“She wasn’t home last night.”
“How do you know?”
“I stopped by her place. Her mother had Mitch.”
“Did you text her to find out where she was?”
“I did.” She seemed somewhat reluctant to admit it when she added, “She didn’t answer.”
As far as Hendrix could tell, Jordan had left town. He’d been driving for over an hour, cruising past the motels and the eateries, looking for the white Audi with Oregon plates. But he hadn’t seen any sign of it. He was considering stopping by Averil’s parents’ house. He didn’t know her well; she was a few years older than he was. But he remembered her from school, and he saw her at Hank’s quite often, where they nodded and said hello. In the past six months, since Jennifer had moved away, she’d even asked him to dance on occasion. He’d always agreed but had kept their interaction light and friendly, since he’d never been especially attracted to her.
Given their lack of a deeper relationship, it would seem strange to randomly show up at her house. But they’d never exchanged numbers, so it wasn’t as if he could call or text her instead. And he felt he should warn her about the kind of man she was getting involved with. Ordinarily, that would seem like overstepping, but Jordan’s presence in town could have a significant impact on Ellen’s life.
Not only did he need to tell Averil what Jordan had done to Ellen and let her know the dentist might not be everything he seemed to be, he was hoping to learn where Jordan was last night. It was possible he had nothing to do with the Haslem well. Maybe he’d left Coyote Canyon before the damage occurred, and he was no longer a threat to Ellen or anyone else—at the moment. If that was the case, there’d be one less thing to worry about.
Hendrix hated to think of who else might have been responsible, however. He definitely didn’t want it to be Lynn. But he decided to go ahead and visit Averil, just in case he managed to learn something. Even if she got mad at him for it, or she wasn’t home, he was fighting the desire to drive over to Ellen’s place again, and this would provide an immediate distraction to keep from doing that.
According to Brant, who provided the address, the older Gerharts lived on twenty acres along the highway and had been there for years and years.
Hendrix slowed as he drew close to the house in question and waited for oncoming traffic before making the turn. It’d grown dark since he’d left his place, so the porch light was on, and a number of cars were clogging the drive. The Gerharts had several grown children with spouses and kids of their own, so he assumed there was some kind of family party going on.
Pulling to one side to make it possible for others to get out, he cut the engine and climbed from his truck.
He could see a woman, then two men, pass in front of the kitchen window as he approached and, although it took a minute, Charlie, Averil’s brother, whom Hendrix also knew from Hank’s and various mutual friends, answered the door when he knocked.
“Is Averil around?” Hendrix asked.
“Yeah, she’s inside,” he said. “Let me get her for you.”
Hendrix stepped back so he wouldn’t be crowding the doorway when Averil arrived. Charlie had left the door standing open; she only had to come through a wooden screen door, which was hanging slightly askew.
“Hendrix...” she said, obviously surprised to see him.
“Hey, Averil. How are you?” he asked.
