Amy's Secrets: Parker Hennessy's Down Home Murder Mystery's

By Ken Johnson

Parker Hennessy is a former NYPD homicide who traded his badge in for a PI license. He also traded the NY skyline for the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.
Parker befriended a woman who ran a restaurant down the street from the repair shop his car was towed to after his car broke down.
He found her name to be Kelly Carrington and they had 2 things in common. Both lost family to a drunk driver and they both used to wear a badge. While stranded, Kelly showed Parker around the area. Parker found a third thing in common. She drove a 1970 Black Dodge Charger
She helped Parker find a place to live with a friend who owned a home with an apartment to rent. It was only supposed to be temporary until he found a permanent place. He liked living with the Satterfield's a lot. They were like family. All was good. Parker was elated how life was going

Parker was coming home late after a long day watching a clients wife cheat. He had plenty of evidence. Parker was exhausted. He figured he'd sleep in and take off the next day.

That idea and Parkers pleasant retirement went up in flames, LITTERALLY. Parker came home late at night after getting evidence for his present client to see his home engulfed in flames.
Tragically Amy Satterfield was found dead in her bed. Stacy, their daughter, was missing. Before the fire took over the building, fire fighters could not find her in the home, but they did not have a chance to fully search. When they initially had the fire knocked down, they could tell it was arson. When Brian came on the scene, as he was not home when the fire started, they determined it was arson with an obvious sign of accelerants.
Parker was questioning Brian with what he learned from a neighbor when he first came on the scene. Amy and Brian had two heated arguments. As Parker questioned him, a detective and two uniformed cops arrested Brian.

Parker and Kelly took on the task of proving Brian innocent. They believed Brian could not had harmed his beloved family.
But are they right? There were two heated arguments earlier in the day. That along with Brian was believed to be seen racing from his home in his pickup moments before the fire started. Brian almost was never out on a Sunday evening. An empty gas can was found in the bed of his pickup not far from the fire scene.
The police chief warned them a few times not to mess with their case. Brian was guilty for sure as far as they were concerned. The chief followed them around. Parker figured the chief thought they would cover up evidence.
One thing nagged Parker and Kelly. Brian reminded them how Amy was acting strange lately. She was irritable and pick fights. This was not her usually sweet and caring Amy. She was denying anything was bothering her when asked. Amy appeared to have secrets. Secrets she didn't even tell those closest around her.
Did Brian snap, being fed up with Amy's antics of late and come back to torch the home. It looked that way to the neighbor

Follow Parker and Kelly to find Amy's killer to unlock "AMY'S SECRETS"

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667845968

Ken Johnson

The Creator wired Ken Johnson to be an entrepreneur. Before he was ten, he was shoveling snow in the winter and selling hand-picked wild blackberries door-to-door in the summer. Ken graduated in 1972 from George Fox University with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration, and then experienced seven years of rich productivity as a businessman.Surprisingly, Ken felt a divine nudge to leave the business realm where he was thriving and become a minister. He started by leading a little flock of thirty people, and years later he found himself leading thousands.Ken served on the Foursquare Church international Board, and on the Foursquare Foundation Board for six years. The Foundation has awarded more than $52,000,000 in grants to fruitful Christian leaders and ministries throughout the world. Seeing tens of thousands of people all over the world find new life in God shot adrenaline into Ken’s soul.In 2013, Ken, an avid outdoorsman, was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. Ken handed the leadership of Westside Church (which is still thriving) to his assistant, but he didn’t retire. He ‘re-fired.’ He continued to speak various places and began to direct more and more of his energy to mentoring leaders and writing.Ken has published three books: Life2 – The Life You Were Created to Live, When it All Comes Down it All Comes Down to This, and Signs of Life – God’s Available Aliveness. Ken is preparing to publish a trilogy called Your Wildest Dream.Ken’s focus is helping people become more alive through his books and his blog: Much More Alive. Whether writing or speaking, Ken is a vibrant, adventurous storyteller who uses stories to open people’s minds and unbridle powerful emotions. Nothing thrills Ken more than helping people become more prolific, more purposeful, more alive!

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Amy’s Secrets

©2022, Ken Johnson

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-1-66784-595-1

ISBN eBook: 978-1-66784-596-8

I dedicate this book to my beautiful companion and best friend ever in Becky. She had been supportive in all I do, a light in my life that has been brighter than any light before. She has since passed away. Forever in my heart. Her light will forevrer last in my heart.

Contents

SUMMARY

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

Epilogue

Disclaimer: All characters are the work of my crazy imagination. The town named in my story is purely fictional, as are most every business’s named. Some famous named places may be recognized but are not reflected good or bad as to their actual reputations. Any resemblance of fictional names and places that exist is purely coincidental. I do, though, have one last name I used that was not coincidental. This is the name of a childhood friend and still a friend to this day, and that person knows I am using their name and why. This character in no way resembles the person he was or is today.

Chapter One

I hate working Sunday nights. It’s always slow and boring, Paul Sanford said to himself as he got into his Jeep Cherokee. Paul had clocked out at his job as second-shift manager at Anytime Market, a convenience store at the north end of the business section of town. He looked at his watch. It was now 12:17 a.m. He headed north on Reynolds Avenue.

There was little to no traffic this time of night on this June 3. The temperature was in the sixties and cloudy. There was no one behind Paul as he looked in his rearview mirror. He noticed a car with a for sale sign on it parked on the side of a driveway at a home to his left. After again checking his rearview mirror, he slowed down for a moment to glance at it. I’ll have to come back to check this out. Cindy might like it. Paul was thinking about his wife’s need for a better car.

Paul sped up and looked forward. Out of nowhere, a pickup truck raced out of the driveway of a home he was about to pass. "Damn, what the hell?" Paul yelled as he swerved out of the way to avoid broadsiding the vehicle. He landed his Jeep Cherokee over a bush that was in a line separating the yards. The front part of his car was on the bush, and the back wheels were in the muddy ditch.

911, what’s your emergency? a mild voice answered, seemingly that of a young woman.

Some son of a bitch ran me off the road! Paul yelled loudly.

Calm down and please refrain from foul language. Are you hurt? the dispatcher asked.

A little calmer, Paul answered, I’m okay, but I’m not sure about my car. Paul too realized it partly might have been his fault for taking his eyes off the road while looking at the parked car for sale.

Will you need a tow truck? she asked.

No, ma’am, Paul addressed her politely.

I’ll have an officer on the way.

No need for that, ma’am. I called so that you people can go find the driver before they hurt or kill someone. I’d bet they’re still speeding somewhere down the road headed south, Paul anxiously replied.

Did you catch a tag number? the dispatcher asked.

With the angle, the vehicle came out, I could not see it. Plus, I was too busy trying to avoid a crash, Paul answered a bit anxiously.

What kind of vehicle? the dispatcher responded, still cool and calm.

I can say for sure a pickup truck and it had a canopy on it, Paul answered.

Could you tell the color? the dispatcher asked.

I’m not sure because the lighting was poor. I think bluish or silver color perhaps. The lighting was an amber streetlight on a pole. That’s all I can tell you.

Could you see if it was a male or female and how many were in the truck? the dispatcher asked.

I can only say just a driver, but I can’t swear if the driver was alone or not, or male or female. I think maybe a big person. The person in the driver’s seat did seem big. I’m not sure. As I said, things happened so fast" Paul said.

Sir, that’s not a lot to go on, but we’ll put an alert out for a speeder in a pickup.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be of better help. What I told you I hope is better than nothing. Paul was now calmer. I think maybe there was a hole in the window on the side of the canopy on the driver’s side.

You say you think, but not sure? she asked and added, About how sure are you?

Not a lot. As I said, it happened so fast.

What is the number of the home the vehicle came from?

Ah, let me look for a number. I’m at the north end of Reynolds in Pinewood Lakes. Paul was already out of his Jeep, assessing the damage he had gotten as he spoke to 911. I see a number now. It’s 1749 Reynolds Avenue.

Hold on a moment. I’m going to put the BOLO out on it immediately. A good chance it might have been the homeowner since it came from out of the driveway. The dispatcher was able to immediately pull up the homeowner’s data, which included the owner’s name and tag number with the description.

Okay. Will you need a tow truck?

I don’t think so now that I’m looking at it. If I do, I’ll call AAA. Paul assumed she included the broken window on the canopy in her BOLO and didn’t ask if she did.

That’s good of you. Let me have your full name and address if you don’t mind.

You don’t have to send a thank-you letter, Paul said.

The dispatcher chuckled. No, we don’t send out any thank-you letters. It’s just for our records.

Paul gave the dispatcher his info, and they both clicked off.

Paul sniffed a strange smell in the air. Smells like smoke, Paul figured, but he was more concerned with his situation at the moment.

Paul assessed his situation and figured that, having a four-wheel-drive Jeep, all he needed to do was pull back over the bush and out of the shallow ditch and he’d be okay. I feel bad about messing that bush up, he thought. I think I’ll leave a note about what happened. I don’t know if it belongs to this property or the other. I’ll leave a note anyway.

Paul had more trouble getting out of the ditch than he thought he would. He had underestimated part of his problem. Rain earlier in the day had made the drainage ditch very muddy. He was digging himself deeper despite his four-wheel drive. He sat there for a moment idling.

With having his windows down, he continued to smell the smoke. This doesn’t smell like leaves or brush burning. Who’d be using a fireplace this time of year? It’s June, Paul asked himself.

Paul now remembered how his father had taught him to get out of a ditch, which he then accomplished quickly. He still wanted to leave the note, so he got the pad he had in his glove box to write a quick note. Paul got back out of his Jeep and left the note in the mailbox about thirty feet away. The smell of smoke got stronger. I think I need to check this out more.

Paul walked back to his Jeep and backed out into the street. Paul went back and forth a little to track down the source. He was about to give up looking, thinking perhaps the nighttime breeze had pushed the smell of smoke from far off. Suddenly he spotted a reddish glare in the side window of the home where the pickup came from. He sat looking a moment at what he was seeing, not quite sure what it was. Then it became vividly apparent. First, it was a red glare, but the curtain in the window now was on fire. It was now obvious.

Did you remember something, Mr. Sanford? The dispatcher remembered his number.

No, it’s something else. The home at that address I gave you is on fire. I see fire inside a window on the side of the home, and I can smell it, too.

I’m sending—

I need to see if I can wake anyone inside, Paul said, interrupting the dispatcher.

I’m sending fire apparatus now, the dispatcher said. Stay on the line.

I will, but I’ll be putting the phone in my back pocket because I’ll need both hands to make a lot of rackets. The dispatcher could hear Paul panting as he ran, but the sound faded as he put his phone in his pocket.

He reached the porch on the left side of the home. He took the four wooden steps by twos and ran across the wide porch in an instant. He started banging on the storm door and then opened it to get to the main wooden door.

Hey! Fire! Get out! Get out! Fire! Fire! Get out now! Paul yelled repeatedly many times. He repeatedly rang the doorbell with his thumb from his right hand as he yelled and hammered the door with his left fist.

I don’t hear anyone responding or moving around, and I don’t see lights being turned on, Paul said to the dispatcher after removing his phone from his pocket. I’m going to look in the windows.

Okay, good, the dispatcher said.

Paul looked into the large front picture window. I can’t see anything. Besides lights being out, I think it’s getting pretty smoked up inside.

Paul was trying to see anything he could through the window, to see if anyone was moving around. I just heard a pop, like a small explosion or something, from the side of the home. I’m going to go see.

Paul raced across the wraparound porch of the Queen Anne home. He saw flames shooting out from a side window as well as flames entering into the front corner room. The fire broke through a side window. The fire is spreading fast. Hey, I’m looking up and down the driveway and into an open two-car garage, and I don’t see any vehicles. Sure hope no one’s home. I’m hearing sirens now. I need to get out of here, so I’m not trapped in by fire trucks and hoses. I have to go into work early tomorrow.

I understand. Go ahead and leave, and thanks for all you tried to do, said the dispatcher. They both clicked off.

Paul raced for his car. As he crossed the road, he could see flashing lights about a hundred yards in the distance, headed his way. Damn, I need to get out of here quick, he thought.

Paul reached his car and sped off as the fire trucks were just about fifty yards away.

***

I can’t believe it’s after 2am. Parker thought to himself after looking at his watch. I need to get some serious sleep. With that thought, he reached for his cup of coffee. It was empty except for one cold drop. He had gotten it back in Pigeon Forge at a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s. He had spent the last fourteen or so hours surveilling his latest subject, the cheating wife of his client John Wilkerson III.

After serving as one of NYPD’s finest for twenty-one years, he’d had enough of the department politics and the bloody carnage. He was also tired of the sounds of his ex-wife, Sylvia Vox.

Ah, just what I need. Parker’s eyes spotted the Mr. Donut shop. With sleepy eyes, he thought it best to go in, sit a spell, and get some coffee with caffeine to help keep his eyes open a little while longer. Perhaps a donut or two, also.

The shop sat at the south end of town. He remembered an old public service message that stated most accidents occur within twenty-five miles from home. He still had some miles to go before reaching his home.

Parker entered through the glass doors and got a coffee with cream and sugar. He also got a couple of jelly filled donuts then found a seat. Parker’s desire for jelly donuts were his guilty pleasure.

Parker took his phone from his pocket. I think I’ll text Wilkerson, he thought to himself. He told me to let him know any time when I was done. Parker texted, Have plenty proof. Will call later on Monday.

Parker looked out upon the night through the window, reflecting on how he had landed here in Pinewood Lakes, Tennessee. It was a place he had by no means intended to retire in, a place he never even knew existed. He intended to move to Dallas and work in a big PI firm that a former partner and ex-captain, Alvin Bracken, had started there.

That changed when his red 1965 Mustang broke down on an exit ramp after he made a wrong turn. He had taken the wrong fork when the interstate divided and intended to use the exit to turn around. The repair shop he got towed to could not find a part for days.It was the weekend. Parker was upset because he had one thing he had to do on the way to Dallas: watch his twin sons graduate from the University of Tennessee. Parker had time when he’d pass through Knoxville, UT’s home when they graduated. He’d spend a day or two with the kids and then go on to Dallas. It was the least he could do given their strained relationship.

Parker remembered going to a restaurant to get a bite to eat and make some phone calls to rent a car so he could at least see his sons graduate. He came across a place called Sadie’s Home Cooking down the street from the repair shop. A woman who looked too dressed up to be working there approached him to take his order. It turned out she owned the place and was dressed up because she had just hours ago come from a cousin’s small private wedding and reception.

Parker’s eyes couldn’t help but stare. Why are you staring at me? he remembered hearing her say. She stood six feet, slender and tall with long glistening red hair with hazel eyes were sparkling. He immediately felt an attraction for her.. He thought, I’d sure like to know her better, but at the time, that wasn’t likely to ever happen. He had a commitment to his friend Al in Dallas.

I’m sorry for staring, but I have not met someone as stunning as you since my first wife, Parker remembered the conversation word for word.

How many times have you been married? Before Parker had time to answer, she popped another question at him. If she was so beautiful, why did you get divorced?

We didn’t divorce; she died. She was killed by a drunk driver.

I’m so sorry. That’s how my parents died. They owned this place. I took it over, leaving my badge behind and keeping their dream open.

Parker remembered how they realized they had two things in common already. They both had loved ones killed by a drunk driver, and they both used to wear a badge. They exchanged names, and he learned her name was Kelly Carrington.

Kelly drove him to see his sons graduate and then helped him find a room at a motel. While he waited for the part for his car, she showed him around town and drove him to see his kids on the day after graduation. After he got his car back, he had breakfast at Sadie’s. He had gotten to love her food—good down-home meals as the name implied. It was nothing fancy for the most part, except some specials. Fancy was not important to him when most times he ate on the run anyway going from crime scene to the station, to witness, to the crime scene, and back and forth in varying scenarios.

Parker had said goodbye with only a hug, although kissing Kelly was sure tempting. He was already five miles toward Dallas when he realized Pinewood Lakes might make for a better place. Oh, and there was a third thing he had in common with Kelly: classic cars. She had a 1970 Dodge Charger.

He drove about another three miles, wrestling with thoughts between not letting his friend down and the strong magnetism that had built over the last few days he’d spent in the quaint little city of Pinewood Lakes. The surrounding beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains was great backdrop. It was almost like the John Denver song Country Roads with the lyrics—almost heaven, West Virginia—except it was Tennessee in this case. He’d never seen such beauty.

Another Tennessee beauty was Kelly Carrington, with her Southern charm. Parker felt a strong attraction to her. He also was reminded that he wanted no part of another marriage, not after his disaster of marriage with Sylvia Vox. He now believed no one could replace his first wife, Audrey O’Donnell. No one, but no one, could replace her, but could Kelly fill a void in his life? Not to replace Audrey but someone new and different. The chemistry was sure there.

Parker traveled a few miles more, debating in his mind what he should do. As he traveled farther from Pinewood Lakes, he pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and put on his flashers. He couldn’t even go forward toward Dallas another tenth of a mile.

The magnetic field called Pinewood Lakes was pulling at him. At the center of that force was a six-foot redhead. He got off at the next exit, crossed over the bridge, reentered the interstate, and headed back to Sadie’s. He wanted advice from Kelly about where to find a place to live. He remembered the big smile she had on seeing him return.

What brings you back? he remembered hearing her ask.

I fell in love with this town. He left out he had a strong attraction to her.

She said she’d help find a place, but for the time being, she knew a couple with an apartment in their home on the north end of town who might let him stay until he found the right place. As Parker looked for a place, nothing seemed to pan out. That was because the longer he stayed in the home where he was, the more the temporary place seemed too cozy to leave. The landlords became like family.

Sir, you okay? The girl serving him saw a sleepy Parker with a few tears on his face that had not quite dried up yet. The tears were from thoughts of his beloved Audrey, his first wife. The server saw a smile too. The smile was for thoughts about the sweetness of Kelly. The girl didn’t know that, though. She just saw a few almost dried tears and a smile.

Her voice startled Parker as he was just lightly sleeping. Oh, I’m sorry. I fell asleep, I guess. I need to get going, Parker said as he looked at his watch and got up and headed for the exit.

Good night, sir, the twenty-ish young lady said as Parker left through the door. He waved back.

Now back on the road, he had pleasant thoughts of Kelly. His camera sat on his passenger seat. It was still there. He scolded himself for not putting it out of sight, and then again, he wasn’t even sure if he had remembered to even lock the car or not. Man, I need to get to bed and get some sleep, and soon. He hadn’t expected to be surveilling this long on a Sunday into Monday. He had helped his friend and landlord earlier that morning doing yard work. He’d been up now about twenty hours or more, He even lost track of that.

Parker’s thoughts turned back to his camera and what he had taken earlier. Sometimes I feel like a peeping Tom doing this, Parker said aloud to himself as he drove along Reynolds Avenue. Then he was thinking about the hot tub scene on the deck of a cabin in the middle of the woods. I don’t know which was hotter, the water in the hot tub or the sex, Parker wondered jokingly. It was where he was last watching Wilkerson’s wife.

Parker was sitting at a red light when a text on his phone arrived. Parker picked up his phone: I want to meet right now. Where? It was Wilkerson, Parker’s client. He didn’t expect a reply so soon. Parker ignored it, putting the phone down as the light turned green. As he traveled through the intersection, lights flashed behind him.

At first, he thought the officer needed to get around him, so he pulled to the side of the road. When he realized the lights were meant for him, he pulled into the parking lot of a small strip mall. A pole light lit part of the lot, and he parked under it. All the stores were closed.

The officer came to the driver’s side door. Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?

To be honest, officer, I don’t know.

You don’t know. Well, how about texting while driving?

I wasn’t texting, Parker insisted.

I saw you with your phone in your hand, and you say you were not texting? The officer thought Parker was lying and wasn’t happy with that answer.

I was reading a text that just came in while the light was red. I put the phone down after I read it, and the light turned green. I was not texting. Parker picked up his phone. Here, look. Check my phone. I obey the law on this texting stuff while driving.

The officer took a look since Parker permitted him. Okay, you weren’t. I do, though, need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance.

No problem. I know the routine, Parker replied.

Oh, you’ve been pulled over a lot?

No. Parker let out a laugh. I used to do what you do. Just a different state and a different time.

Oh yeah? Whereat and when?

Oh, back in New York City. I worked in traffic division for about four years. That was over fifteen years ago, give or take a bit. That was the last I did traffic. Did that for four years like I said, then vice for a few, and the rest homicide.

I should have figured considering your accent. You guys keep pretty busy and are never bored.

Yeah, pretty much, except for those stakeouts. They were pretty boring for the most part.

I’ll try to get this done quickly for you. The officer walked back to his cruiser. After about five minutes, he came back to Parker. Do you know where a Brian Satterfield is?

I would think in his home asleep, and I’m not trying to be a smart-butt about it. That’s where he usually is on Sunday nights. Why do you ask?

You live at the same address, I see?

Yes, but I live in an upstairs apartment. He and his wife are my landlords. Tell me what this questioning is about.

"I’m sorry to tell you, your home