The Echo of Footsteps: Murder in My Home Town

By Sylvia A. Witmore

This novel brings back Max & T.G. Schaffer and Chase & Shannon Westmore as well as NASCAR history at The Rock in Rockingham, N.C. The protagonist is a dance instructor named Megan Garrison. The first time she realizes that there's someone stalking her, is the third consecutive night she has heard the echo of footsteps following her; she steps into the building's shadow to see who is coming up behind her. She can tell it's a man because of his build and height but he is wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his face and in the shadows of early twilight she cannot identify him.

Megan comes into contact with a race driver named Ryan Anderson who is determined to win her affection; thus the struggle begins with the Schaffers and the Westmores trying to arrange a romance; Megan fights her growing attraction to Ryan but they come together as a turbulent couple struggling to control the evident passion between them as they try to catch a vicious killer who has already murdered one woman on the main street in Hamlet in front of a new bar called the Sports Connection and he has now set his sights on Megan as his next victim.

Ryan tries to protect her but it's difficult to ward off violence when the unknown catalyst is so determined to take the life of a pretty, successful young woman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452027012

Sylvia A. Witmore

Sylvia majored in Journalism in college but quickly changed to Creative Writing. She tried for 30 years to reach a publisher but was unsuccessful until 2008 when WHEELS OF DANGER was published by Authorhouse. Since then she has had more books published and this novel with be #11. Sylvia worked in Home Health for 29 years and retired in 2006 to keep two grandchildren and to write full time. Sylvia and CL were married for 40 years before his death in 2009. They have three sons, Chuck, Chris and Kevin and three daughters (not in-law) and ten grandchildren. Donovan is the oldest; Claire is 12, Chaz is 11, Lance is 10, Sherry is 10, Emma is 7, Eli is 6, Liam is 5, Bella is 3 and Kellen was born on 12/10/14. Sylvia loves to travel and spend time with her family. She is an avid reader and loves all kinds of puzzles.

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Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

About the Author

PROLOGUE

Rumors flew throughout Rockingham, N.C. and the surrounding counties when plans were revealed that races at The Rock (Rockingham Motor Speedway) were being cut the next year to only one race in the spring. Richmond County was losing their fall race to a larger track that could accommodate more fans. This was due to the fact that NASCAR was losing money in the south because of low turnout and fewer beer and food sales each race. For years, each race was a sellout; the stands were packed with fans during time trials, during the races on Saturday then all day on Sunday for the Winston Cup race.

The spring race was moved back to February the week after the Daytona 500 race in Florida and the fall race was put off until late October or early November. At that time in North Carolina, winter was coming fast; a lot of the fans preferred staying home watching the race on T.V. from the warmth and comfort of their own homes rather than suffer outside, braving the cold bitter winds so of course ticket sales plummeted. This fact, along with less fan participation put a damper on scheduling future races for Rockingham and the county naturally started worrying about the future of the two towns.

At one time Hamlet and Rockingham were two very busy towns in this part of North Carolina. Rockingham was home of The Rock, one of the most beloved race tracks in the south by both the race drivers themselves as well as the legions of fans. After all, NASCAR was now the largest sports draw in America; therefore The Rock kept NASCAR at the forefront of sports in this part of the south all during the mid 1990’s and early 2000’s.

To add to that popularity, Hamlet had long been the Hub of the Seaboard Railroad line and until Seaboard merged with the Coastline Railroad and then ultimately they were taken over by the CSX lines, Hamlet was a booming, growing little metropolis.

When the railroad moved their main base to Richmond and points further south, lots of Hamlet residents had to move so other businesses throughout the county began to flounder also. Many of the trains that previously passed through Hamlet (sometimes as many as one hundred in one twenty-four hour period) no longer were available so the train station depot (long known for it’s delicious assortment of food) closed also; this part of Richmond County no longer flourished; the success previously experienced here was no longer in evidence.

Then the racetrack itself began to experience cash flow problems. A lot of the race drivers objected to the possibility of moving the NASCAR races completely away from The Rock, which was one of their favorite tracks; but their objections and complaints fell on deaf ears; since the recent death of Dale Earnhardt, the popular driver of the black #3 car, few of the race drivers had the ability or clout or nerve to even try to sway the owner of the track or NASCAR to make enough improvements so they could continue to compete with some of the larger tracks.

Max Schaffer was one of the few race drivers who really went to bat to keep the track open so they could remain solvent and competitive; even with Shannon Reeves-Westmore and some of the other more popular drivers fighting to keep it open, as well as offering financial support. They were all turned down flat. Plans were going forth to move the fall race date out to Phoenix the next year. They would have two races out there instead of one each year. That race track had the potential to seat more fans and therefore bring more money into NASCAR coffers.

Then the unbelievable happened; reports of also losing the spring race after the next year put the race drivers and their families as well as the local race fans alike in a dismal state of emotions. Max Schaffer’s racing shop as well as Shannon’s were both located in Richmond County and they didn’t want to relocate their shops or sell their homes, uprooting families, even though the Rockingham races would be moving elsewhere.

Travel would be more difficult; they would all face longer distances getting to the races in Texas and California, but Max had no intention of moving Alex out of the school he had attended since first grade. Now with their little girl, Sidney Lynn who was turning two in a couple of months, Max knew better than to try to tell T.G. they’d have to pull up stakes to move now.

T.G. and Shannon had been friends for a couple of years; now both of them had become very good friends with their aerobic/dance teacher, Megan Garrison from Hamlet. The Garrison Dance Studio was located in Hamlet on Main Street in one of the last old buildings down at the end of the street next to the railroad tracks. Megan and her partner, Kay Osborn, taught aerobics, line dancing to girls and older women as well as ballet classes to young girls, age four to twelve.

During the classes as well as afterward the three of them became close friends; they spent a lot of time together visiting in each other’s homes, and since it was easier to entertain in T.G. and Max’s living room due to their two young children, Megan and Shannon were often over there while Max was busy at his shop and Shannon’s husband, Chase, was away on a road trip with the railroad.

Megan was invited often for dinner when Max and Chase were there, but she felt like a fifth wheel without a date of her own; sometimes differences between the friends occurred when Shannon and T.G. wanted to fix her up with a race driver or a single friend in their neighborhood but Megan fought against that idea every step of the way.

She was only twenty-six years old; she was extremely involved with the dance studio and she was busy trying to settle into a newly renovated home in Hamlet on Entwistle Street, which had once belonged to her parents; so there was no significant other in her life at this time and she had no plans to change her situation in any way.

Then, circumstances beyond her control threw her into close contact with three separate men who suddenly complicated her life so completely she didn’t know if she was coming or going, and her simple lifestyle was changed drastically.

Race driver, Ryan Anderson was pushed at her by the Schaffers and the Westmores. He was almost the mirror image of Max; tall, dark and handsome, with a charismatic personality that brought him legions of female fans, as well as attention from the news media who always pushed him for interviews, vying for interest and information regarding his private life.

Looks were the only thing Ryan had in common with Max; marriage, T.G. and his children had calmed Max’s arrogance down, but Ryan didn’t have a family to subdue him and he had no intention of changing his ways at this point in his life.

Ryan had a successful race team, racing cars for a popular racing crew and owner who more or less let him run his private life just the way he wanted to. He was interested in getting to know T.G.’s friend, Megan Garrison on his own terms. He’d noticed her at several races sitting in the pit box with T.G. He’d asked Max about her and had been assured that she wasn’t involved with anyone so he decided he wanted to see more of her.

After all, there was nothing there not to like. She was tall, slender with muscles and curves all in the right places. She was very limber from her life as a dance instructor. Her really dark brown hair was a beautiful shade that had red highlights which swung around her face like a shining curtain of silk. Her face was flawless with classic lines and high cheekbones. There was a single dimple in her left cheek; her rather wide mouth was attractive, revealing a smile capable of advertising the best whitening toothpaste ads when she was excited. Her eyes were a deep gray color, sparkling with enthusiasm and a happy zest for life.

Also, Megan’s partner, Kay Osborn was trying to fix her up with a lawyer friend she had grown up with and thought Megan would be attracted to Jack Southern’s tall blond good looks.

The third man to come into the picture as a possible suitor was a friend of the owners of a new sports bar (The Sports Connection) that had opened in Hamlet. His name was Charley Edwards. Megan and another of her friends, Tracy Wells, met there often for drinks after work. Tracy owned the ice cream and sandwich shop just up the street from The Sports Connection Bar which was a popular place for everyone to gather after work. They even had music there and pool tables for the energetic players, as well as plenty of sports action on the flat screen televisions scattered around the rooms.

Business boomed during all the sports events all through the year; the big flat screens on all the walls were always showing basketball and football games as well as all the racing events each weekend.

Prior to the renovation of the bar, it had been a pool room. The pool room on Main Street was across from the drugstore, but it had been closed for several years until Rob McPherson and Jake Scully brought the pool room then reopened it to everyone including women, if they wanted to become a member.

Years before the pool room closed, it belonged to Bobby Atkinson and was very popular; it was a renowned hangout for males of all ages. Women were not welcome there and came only to drop off the regulars every day, including brothers, husbands or fathers, then returned later to pick them up; but as far as the female gender darkening the doors there, it just didn’t happen.

Megan had heard her brothers talk about some of the things that happened down at the pool room; once the newspaper even printed an exclusive, detailed account of an occurrence down at the pool room. This article reported that guys have a natural instinct that makes them want to get out of the house every once in a while to hang out with other guys; it’s something that has been ingrained in men from their forefathers and their forefathers before them.

The truth of the matter is that guys like to hang around each other because they like to help each other out; always being there if one of them should need assistance of any type. With men, it’s a preservative thing. This is illustrated further by the story reported by Jay Wagers who was a Guest Columnist for the Daily Journal at one time.

‘The usual crowd had gathered at the Pool Room watching ball games on television; the door opened, a regular down at the Pool Room, Tyree Brown, walked in then climbed up on a bar stool. Several patrons asked him about a certain tooth that was bothering him; it was still hurting. He told them he was thinking about going to get it pulled, but just hadn’t taken the time to do it yet. A dear friend named Clyde who was the resident cook, was sitting over at the round table told him that he would be glad to pull it for him. Tyree laughed about it saying that he would think about it later.

‘Evidently, the longer Tyree sat there, the more that tooth hurt because about two hours later he decided that he had consumed enough courage that he felt it was time the tooth came out; he turned around on the bar stool telling Clyde that he was ready for that operation on his tooth; he just couldn’t stand it anymore.

‘Clyde excused himself to go out to his truck for his tool pouch filled with pliers, wrenches and screwdrivers, asking Tyree which one he wanted him to use. Tyree told Clyde he was the expert so he needed to choose. Clyde tried to instill confidence in his patient so he told him that the #420 Channel Locks would be small enough to reach in but would have a very good bite and pull.

‘Clyde took him over to the round table telling him to sit while he sterilized his instruments; he washed them in very hot water, then dumped them in hydrogen peroxide for a few minutes to kill any remaining germs; Clyde needed a dental assistant; one who was strong enough to hold Tyree down while keeping his mouth open. Then he looked over at a man named Johnny ordering him to go scrub up because he was going to help.

‘Clyde wanted to know which tooth was bothering him so Tyree showed him that it was the only one in the top left side of his mouth; he ordered Johnny to hold Tyree’s head back so he could see the tooth; Johnny put him in a hammer-headlock with one arm, pulling his mouth open with the other hand, positioning his head in the best possible light; Clyde carefully reached in grabbing the tooth with the #420 Channel Locks and pulled; the tooth gave a little but the channel locks slipped off causing Tyree to jump; but Clyde had chosen the right assistant with Johnny because he held on tight so Tyree remained in the chair.

‘He ordered Johnny to hold on tight because he was going in once again; this time he latched on to it real good and with one yank pulled it from Tyree’s head. It fell out and rolled across the floor. Johnny let Tyree go then he walked over and picked up the tooth, putting it in a cup. Clyde then instructed Tyree to rinse his mouth out; when he could talk once more he thanked Clyde for his surgical expertise asking him how much he owed him; Clyde declined any payment but reported that as soon as the roots were dry they would place it in the trophy case for everyone to see.

‘So you see, as reported by the men in the Pool Room, they are always willing to help out each other; there’s no mischief going on down at the Pool Room regardless of what the women might think goes on there...just a few good men trying to help out another brother with a bad tooth…and these friends surely saved Tyree a few dollars that night.’

CHAPTER ONE

The first night Megan Garrison heard the echo of footsteps behind her as she walked to her car after work, she wasn’t frightened. She’d heard footsteps before; people moving down the busy street, going back and forth to their cars or leaving different stores. Richmond County was not completely safe from crime; although serious criminal actions were far and few in between in their sleepy little town.

The second night Megan heard the footsteps behind her, she still wasn’t worried; when she stopped and looked behind her on the way out to her car, the street was empty; there was no one there.

But, on the third consecutive night she heard the same footsteps behind her, she began to worry; she had to wonder who might be following her every evening. Even though when she stopped to listen for the steps behind her, when she turned to look around she saw no one.

Shrugging it off as unfounded nerves and stress from a tiresome day at work, she hurried to her car parked in her designated spot. She clicked the keypad quickly as she slid into the front seat, locking her doors behind her. She started the car, waiting for the heater to warm her cold fingers as she tried to calm her beating heart; she shivered, but not from the cold December night. It was from the adrenaline flowing through her body due to her sudden fright.

She’d never been afraid before, not in Hamlet. But now she was tired; she’d taught two aerobic/dance classes that day as well as three dance classes of little girls aged five to twelve. She was looking forward to the warmth of home, a long soak in a tub full of hot bubbles and a glass of wine. She wanted to relax, put her tired feet up and read a good book until the stress of her everyday work load melted away.

The next day was Wednesday, hump day; they called it hump day because half the work week was over on Wednesday; they just had two more days to go and that day along with Friday was one of her lightest days. She had one session of aerobic exercises at nine, a line dance at two, and her last class with the five to eight-year-old little girls was at 4:30 p.m.

On the lighter days she spent the last two hours of the day catching up with e-mails, paying bills and mapping out lesson plans for the next week. On Thursday afternoon her assistant Kay Osborn and an RCC college student, Carmen Sampson, would meet and learn some new line dances to teach the following week. Megan considered herself lucky that she had two such capable assistants who were able to take over any of the classes she assigned them.

On Friday, Megan was late waking up; she had not slept well at all the night before; she kept hearing every creak and groan in the small house she’d purchased from her parents when they’d pulled up stakes to travel across the country, visiting all of the states they’d never seen before. They were living the life of carefree nomads in their two-bedroom camper; therefore Megan was late getting to work, even though it was her turn to open up because Kay always opened up early on Tuesday and Thursday.

When Megan drove down town to her small studio on Main Street near the old train station, she discovered more bad news. There was a dark compact car similar to hers parked in her designated space. The spot was clearly marked with her name, Megan Garrison. If she was a spiteful person, she would call a wrecker and have the car towed, but since she wasn’t, she drove further down the street. She had parked in the same space for three years; no one had ever invaded her spot before. She circled the block and when she came back around she found the car had moved so she drove into the empty spot.

She ran into the studio, past the front desk, nodding to Carmen, who was on the phone, but not stopping to speak, as she hurried into her office, removing her jacket and hanging it on the hanger behind the door. The music from the long room behind her office boomed around her as she sat down at her desk pulling out the bottom drawer to store her purse before she walked over to the counter absently stirring a sugar substitute into her first cup of coffee. The coffee pot usually was ready for her when Kay or Carmen came in before she did; Megan always returned the favor when she beat the two of them to work.

She was glad that the next week would be the last week Carmen would be tied up in classes at RCC two afternoons a week; she would be able to spend more time at the studio, giving Megan as well as Kay some needed relief on their busiest days; that would free Megan to devote more time to lesson plans and business matters.

She poured her coffee then carried the mug over to the entrance to the big room where the dance classes were held. She stood at the door watching Kay direct the ladies through their early morning class of aerobic segments.

She smiled as she noticed how intensely some of them exercised through their routine movements and how others only half-heartedly attempted the leg lifts and crunches, but all in all, most of them seemed to enjoy the exercises.

Megan herself would instruct the class at eleven a.m. and she really enjoyed it because her two best friends, T.G. Schaffer and Shannon Reeves-Westmore would attend and afterward, they usually all went to the soda shop and combination café for lunch together.

Later, when Megan saw T.G. and Shannon come in together, she hurried toward them, greeting her friends, as she spoke to them briefly before they got down to business.

Hello. Ready for a work-out?

T.G. shook her dark curls quickly. Certainly am. If we go out to Fatz tonight for our usual pig-out, I’ll need a couple of hours of exercise to keep my weight down.

Sure, Shannon laughed. Neither of you have any weight problems. I’m the one who puts it on during off season.

Megan laughed. Yes, but as soon as the races start, you’ll work it all off again. You know how strenuous it is to drive that race car all around the track.

I hope so. Shannon agreed. Are you still on for lunch today and also our girls’ night out tonight?

I’m looking forward to both. She turned back to face T.G. You don’t have any babysitting problems tonight, do you?

No. We’ve corralled Max and Chase into baby-sitting tonight. We told them that we’d let them have their poker night tomorrow without a fuss.

That’s real generous of you; don’t they do it every other weekend anyway? Megan asked as she laughed.

Shannon grinned, shaking her long blond hair back as she pulled it up securing it with a red scarf that matched her tank top.

Besides, if you don’t have any plans, we want you to come over tomorrow night and watch some chick flicks with us. T.G. has two new ones and if she and I are going to cry over some mushy love story, we need your comments about love from a single woman’s point of view.

Megan shook her head regretfully.

I won’t be much help along that line. My love life is almost non-existent these days.

Then, we’ll just have to work on that, won’t we? T.G. asked as she skipped over to the ballroom and started taking off her sweater to hang up on the metal holders against the wall.

Megan ran after her, vigorously protesting. I’d rather you didn’t, T.G. I don’t have any free time as it is.

There’s always time for love in your life, Shannon quipped dryly. When I met Chase two years ago, I didn’t think I had any time for him either, but life has a way of changing your way of thinking; you have no control over your emotions when that love bug bites. I predict this next year is the year for you to fall head over heels in love with a wonderful, handsome man.

Megan shook her head, but decided that arguing with them was useless. They were hell-bent on fixing her up with someone and it seemed that she didn’t have much say-so in the matter.

She walked on back to the ballroom; as she checked around she noticed that the rest of her class had already assembled into lines getting ready for the music and warm-up routines.

Megan finished her last sip of water then went to the front of the room.

Okay, girls, let’s all get out the exercise mats, start the warm-up then we’ll go right into our dance routines.

She cued in the music on the player as she led them in stretches and warm-up jumping jacks, then straight into the exercise routine before progressing on to the actual dance steps.

The rest of the hour passed uneventfully. After finishing up, they took time to clean up in the shower room then the three of them headed downstairs toward the café for their lunch.

The lunch crowd had already gathered. T.G. gave their order at the counter while Shannon and Megan searched for an empty table or booth for the three of them. Megan spoke to several of the girls who took classes from her at the studio and then she sat down with Shannon and T.G. for a relaxing hour.

After club sandwiches, they shared an order of chips and salsa then arranged to meet at Fatz at 7:00 p.m.

T.G. and Shannon headed back to Rockingham while Megan went back upstairs to the studio. She glanced in to see Kay had already started the music and the exercise routine for the 2:00 p.m. class she always taught.

The rest of the afternoon passed rather quickly. Kay and Carmen handled the next two classes while Megan took care of paper-work and wrote out checks to be mailed the next morning. Both of the girls spoke to her at 4:30 p.m. as they left for the day. Megan told them to have a nice weekend and she’d see them again on Monday morning. Megan was the only one with a class of ballet dancers scheduled for Saturday morning at 11:00 a.m. then she’d have the rest of the weekend to do as she pleased.

It was almost dark when she looked up again. She quickly realized that she would not have much time to get home and change before she was to meet T.G. and Shannon at 7:00 p.m.

She made sure the coffee pot was unplugged. Then she turned out all of the lights in the reception area, her office and the studio. She set the burglar alarm at the door leading down into the back steps of the studio leaving a small light burning near the inside door at the bottom of the stairs.

It was misting rain; she took her small yellow umbrella out of her bag, opening it before she hurried to the end of the buildings behind her studio. She turned right at the back corner hurrying toward Main Street where her car was parked. As she stepped up on the pavement on the side street, she heard the sound of furtive footsteps just behind her. That was the fourth time in the last four days she had heard them. She wondered who might be leaving behind her every single day.

Usually she was never able to get away at the same time each day. Three days a week she had classes from 4:00 until 5:00 every evening so most nights she couldn’t leave until after they had finished. Friday nights were usually the only night she was able to leave early.

She turned to look behind her but still did not see anyone around. The shadows were too deep but she could still plainly hear the clipping of heavy heels on pavement somewhere behind her.

She glanced out at the street toward her parked car. The streetlight above was burning bright but there were shadows all around where the light did not penetrate into the darkness. She stopped for a moment, trying to decide what to do. There was too much open space between her and the safety of her car. Without actually planning to, she lowered her umbrella as she stepped back into the dark shadows of the nearest building holding still, not even daring to breathe.

She was completely surrounded by darkness next to the brick paint of the building’s cold walls. The hurrying footsteps behind her speeded up and she caught a glimpse of a dark shrouded figure as it rushed past her heading toward her parked car sitting directly underneath one of the street lights.

From her vantage point, Megan stared at him as she pressed her trembling body closer to the cool brick façade of the building behind her. The dark figure stopped at the edge of the light spilling out across the pavement. He looked up and then down the street toward the railroad crossing, presumably searching for her. He kept his hands clenched inside his pockets almost as if he was desperately holding on to something.

He turned and glanced behind him; Megan shrank even further against the wall as she held her breath, refusing to breathe as she pressed back against the shadows as she inched her way carefully backward, trying not to make any sound by shuffling her feet. There was no way she could get a good look at him because he turned back toward the light, hurrying across the street near the darkness at the rear of her car.

Megan slowly moved back around the corner of the studio, inch by painful inch as she edged toward the narrow street at the back of the buildings facing Main Street. She knew she just had to get