Vows of Silence by Debra Webb

considering the hefty cash withdrawal, that they’d run off together. No connection between the two disappearances had ever been made, by Rick’s predecessor or any of the private investigators Senator Ashland had hired. Pamela had had stars in her eyes, wanted to marry a rich man. Most folks figured she’d run off to find her future. But Rick had ideas of his own. He’d spoken with the family and drawn a few conclusions based on what he’d learned. But all of it was only their word, supposition.
    And then there was Bent Thompson. He’d abruptly left town about that same time. A week or so after Charles had disappeared. A local thug, well, the closest thing to a thug a small town like Ashland had. Thompson had been arrested for assault and battery a couple of times, public drunkenness even more often and there was a time when he was thought to have done a little dirty work for a loan shark operating out of Memphis.
    Bent Thompson was the poster child for reasons to stay in high school. He’d dropped out and turned to doing whatever paid the most to get by. His reputation as a hooligan, if not a total thug, was noteworthy to say the least. Anyone who cared to consider what became of him most likely concluding he’d gotten out of town to avoid someone he’d crossed.
    As far as Rick knew, Thompson and Ashland had shared no dealings and had scarcely shared the same air space. Much like him and Lacy. Two people from very different backgrounds and sides of town.
    Rick shook his head as he considered that the railroad track at Houston Street had always served as a kind of dividing line. Those who lived south of it were lower middle class and below. And those to the north, well, they had the lake and all the money.
    You fell into one class or the other and that was where you stayed. Boys south of Houston Street didn’t get the girls from the north side. All they could do was look…except for Rick. He’d gotten to do more than look that one time.
    After that he understood why it was better to stick with his side of the tracks—it cost a lot less on levels that had nothing at all to do with money.
    Rick shook off the frustrating memories and focused on the files and reports in front of him. The only option he had, as far as he could see, was to retrace the events of ten years ago and see if he discovered anything new, which was doubtful. Every instinct told him that if he didn’t break Lacy Oliver, he would never know what happened.
    A ruckus in his outer office caught Rick’s attention. Senator Ashland, with at least three reporters on his heels, was waving his arms at Rick’s secretary.
    Rick pushed out of his chair and strode into the middle of the fray just in time to hear the senator say, “I demand to see the chief right now.”
    Francine, Rick’s easygoing secretary, looked a little uncertain and a whole lot frustrated.
    “How can I help you, Senator?” Rick nodded to two of his deputies, who immediately herded the reporters toward the exit.
    “Chief Summers, do you really believe the wife did it?” shouted the only one of the three media interlopers Rick recognized. Considering the man knew Melinda Ashland every bit as well as Rick did, he had no intention of acknowledging the insensitive question with a response.
    “What about a jealous husband?” another cried before he could be hoisted out the door. “How many wives do you think young Charles seduced, Senator?”
    Rick ushered the senator into his office and away from the blunt questions. It wasn’t as if the senator hadn’t heard it all before, but Rick just couldn’t stand by and let him hear it here.
    “I apologize, Senator,” he said when he’d closed the door of his office. “Some of those fellas just don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.”
    Senator Charles Ashland tugged at the lapels of his fancy designer jacket as if he’d just endured a physical altercation rather than a mere verbal bashing. “It’s not your fault, Chief,”