At the Crossroad

By Amy M Bennett

You can take the cop out of the big city, but you can’t take the big city out of the cop, in this fourth Black Horse Campground mystery.
 
Just as Corrie is getting used to having former Houston, Texas, narcotics detective J. D. Wilder as a campground employee, he officially becomes a member of the Village of Bonney Police Department. Aside from a recent crime spree at the Black Horse, not much is going on in town, giving Wilder a chance to go over some cold cases.
 
In the past fifteen years, three women have gone missing, exactly five years apart. What has amounted to nothing more than a local urban legend becomes Wilder’s new obsession—with Corrie offering some much-needed background information. As he’s digging into the neighborhood’s recent history, trouble from his own shows up, forcing the shadowy past into a deadly confrontation with a clear and present danger . . .
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Feb 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781504090988

Amy M Bennett

Amy M. Bennett was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. End of the Road started as a project for National Novel Writing Month in 2009 but it went on to win Oak Tree Press’s 2012 Dark Oak Mystery contest. Her first and second books in the series, End of the Road and No Lifeguard on Duty, were both awarded the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval. She and her husband Paul currently reside in Bent, New Mexico, with their son, Paul Michael.  

Book preview

Prologue

Early Monday morning

He pulled over onto the side of the road, just short of the Bonney County line. He’d been driving for hours, deliberately taking back roads to make the trip longer. If he’d been a more sentimental person, he could have claimed that he wanted to get reacquainted with his home state after so many years of self-imposed exile. He’d needed time to think, to plan, and the thoughts and plans came easier while he was driving. It was so much easier to do on two-lane highways where towns and other motorists were few and far between, although in New Mexico, especially the sparsely populated eastern half, it wasn’t hard at all. Not like big cities. He was done with big cities….

He dimmed the headlights, got out of the car, and shut the door quietly. He took a deep breath and stretched. The last gas stop had been two hours earlier. He couldn’t remember the name of the town, hadn’t paid attention, but it was decent-sized. His tank had been dangerously low and he was looking for a place that was still open at three in the morning so he could pay cash. Using a credit or debit card opened up the potential of being found; cash left no trail. The problem with very small towns was that most convenience stores and gas stations closed for the night or didn’t have a lot of business. He didn’t want to make an impression on anyone. He wanted to be invisible.

But only when he needed to be.

The passenger door opened and the dome light seemed to make the early-morning twilight as bright as noon time. Why are we stopping? Are we there yet? He scowled at the woman leaning on the car roof, rubbing her eyes, her hair tousled with sleep.

Shut the door, he snarled. I don’t want to attract any attention!

Boy, do you need coffee, she muttered, shutting the door a little harder than necessary. She used both hands to pull her hair back from her face and looked around. Eww, what’s that? Is someone buried over there? She pointed to where the car’s safety lights dimly illuminated a weather-worn ornate metal cross that was adorned with plastic roses that had faded to white. It was stuck into a small pile of stones just off the shoulder of the road and looked like it had been there for years. He snorted.

You really have been out of touch for years. You’ve already forgotten what a ‘descanso’ is? She shot him a cold glare.

I know what they are, she snapped. But that looks like it’s more than just a roadside memorial. Look at those stones. They’re piled awful high and long. It looks like a gravesite to me. She was unable to suppress a shudder. He allowed himself to laugh out loud.

It might very well be. There are dozens of tiny cemeteries in dozens of tiny towns all over the state. It was probably a good distance off the highway originally, then when the state decided to widen it, they just chose to ignore them. Not all of them have properly marked graves and they haven’t been used or even cared for all these years. He had noticed a faint set of numbers on the chipping white paint of the memorial that indicated that it had been erected at least thirty years earlier. He turned away to look over the valley as if admiring the view he couldn’t see but he wanted to make sure she didn’t see the grin spreading over his face. Thirty years was a good long time for people’s memories to fade, just like the plastic flowers twined among the metal filigree of the cross. Even fifteen years might be long enough. He covered another laugh with a cough. Just means someone met the end of their earthly life on this spot and someone cared enough to put up a memorial.

Touching, she said dryly. Well, looks like we made it. For sure I thought you’d get us lost. But I guess you know what you’re doing, right? she asked, noting the Welcome to Bonney County sign. She had avoided coming back unless it was absolutely necessary also; he knew she’d been back a few weeks earlier, without him. She’d met up with him just yesterday in Albuquerque, reluctant to make the trip south again with him, no matter how badly it was warranted. Time was running out. For once, their needs were in accord, although for different reasons. Her face wrinkled up in that look of displeasure he had come to hate and which filled him with teeth-gritting rage. It was getting harder to hide it, too.

Yes, he said and he knew by her silence that she understood he wasn’t in the mood to hear any griping or complaining. Still, she had to ask questions.

Why are we here so early? Nobody’s expecting you till later, are they?

Nobody’s expecting me at all, period! he snapped. Or you, either. I’ve decided to make a change in plans. You’re going back….

Like hell I am! She pounded her fists on the car roof and he winced at the thought of her leaving dents in the already-battered finish. You said it was time we both came back together! Both of us! You said….

I know what I said and I changed my mind. He forced his voice to a cool, level tone, knowing that if he raised his voice, they’d end up being discovered having a screaming match on the side of the road. Or else he’d have to act sooner than he had planned. I’ve been doing some thinking. Calm down and I’ll explain why it’s best that we don’t show up at the same time. This was tricky. She was a jealous person. And she rarely trusted him at face value. That made her too smart for her own good. And too dangerous to have around. She scowled and folded her arms, slumping against the side of the car with a pout on her face. When she wanted to, she could fix herself up and look like a million bucks, but only he—and maybe one or two others—knew what she looked like when she didn’t bother. And she only bothered when it was to her benefit. He wasn’t sure if she took him seriously or not; he certainly wasn’t serious about her, no matter what she might think. But would anyone in insular, old-fashioned Bonney take them seriously as a couple? Was it a mistake to show up together?

Maybe that was why his contact in Bonney had made it clear that it be best she not show up along with him. That it was best that her connection to him not be apparent. He needed to appear professional and independent; not a puppet, not a lap dog, not needy or attached. Definitely not attached. That would ruin everything….

He hadn’t been able to work it out before they commenced on this trip. He could only hope that she believed this was a recent idea he’d just had.

Not an idea he’d had all along.

J.D. Wilder coasted his Harley to a stop outside Noisy Water Winery in mid-town Ruidoso. Although it was barely ten-forty-five in the morning, the day was already warming up, tempered by the coolness of the pine trees and the breeze. Mondays were just a little less busy in the village than the weekends but the perfect weather had coaxed tourists into town and there were many people strolling along the sidewalks and window shopping. Having finished his business in the village of Bonney earlier than he expected, he decided he would take a chance on finding Corrie’s best friend, Shelli Davenport, at work and that the place wouldn’t be crowded.

He entered the store, responding with a smile and nod to the cheerful greeting from the young woman folding t-shirts behind the front counter. He made his way to the winery in the back where the gourmet foods and New Mexico wines were offered for sampling and purchase. He spotted Shelli behind the wine bar, bagging several bottles for a couple who, judging by the used glasses sitting on the bar, believed wholeheartedly in the sentiment that it was five o’clock somewhere; they had already tasted wines and selected several to take home. Shelli carried their wine to the register and thanked them for their business before she noticed J.D. standing in the doorway.

Well, look who finally decided to grace us with a visit! she said with a huge grin on her face. I was beginning to think that our little town and winery weren’t worthy of the attentions of a former big city dweller! She went back behind the bar and motioned him to approach.

Emphasis on ‘former’, J.D. said, moving toward the bar. His gaze swept over the place. It had a warm, friendly feel that was only heightened by Shelli’s bubbly personality. He let himself relax. Nice place. Shelli raised a brow.

Thanks, she said. You here to taste some wine?

It’s not even eleven in the morning, he said, shaking his head.

So? Shelli indicated the two glasses the previous customers had been using. We don’t judge. Besides, why else would you be here this early in the day? She noticed the slight flush that heated his face and her eyes widened. Aha! So that’s it! You’re here to pump the best friend for information! She clapped her hands with glee and J.D. rolled his eyes.

Not exactly. He leaned on the bar and looked around the winery. A small group of teenagers, too young to drink, were clustered around the cheese case, keeping the employee there occupied with free cheese samples. The register attendant had completed the wine sale and was engrossed in stocking jars of salsa on the shelves. No other customers who were likely to approach the bar were present. He decided he needed to get down to business before Shelli got busy. But I do need your help.

Name it, she said, resting her elbows on the bar and propping her chin in her hands. J.D. gestured to the wine menu.

What kind of wine does Corrie like? Shelli blew her breath out and gave J.D. a look of reproach.

That’s it? Like you don’t already know? With hardly a glance, she reached for a bottle of Jo Mamma’s White table wine on the shelf behind the bar and plunked it down. J.D. knew it was one of the winery’s best-selling wines, and with good reason. He’d tasted it a few times before and understood the appeal. This is all she ever drinks. When she drinks. She doesn’t even do that very often.

So she knows what she likes, J.D. said. Shelli shook her head.

She’s never tried anything else on the menu. I had to all but put her in a headlock to make her taste this one. She tapped the bottle and shook her head. Corrie has a tendency to stick to what she’s familiar with. You notice she hardly ever leaves the campground? She feels safe there. Like that’s where she belongs. I swear she either believes that if she ever left the Black Horse for a day it would fall apart … or she would. Her hazel eyes bored straight into J.D.’s gray ones. She never used to be that way, J.D. When we were in high school, she was always up for anything that came along. She’s buried that part of herself in her work. A lot of what she’s been through in the last few years made her this way. Personally, I think she’s ready for a change. For something different. Even if she doesn’t realize it herself. J.D. felt his face heat up.

Are you trying to tell me something? he asked and Shelli let out a snort.

You’re not really that dense, she said, folding her arms across her chest and giving him a wry smile. If that’s not the reason why you’re here, if all you’re doing is picking up a nice ‘thank you’ gift for her for whatever reason….

You’re right, he said, holding up his hands. I’m here because I want to do everything right. I don’t want to blow my chances. Shelli laughed and rolled her eyes.

Fat chance of that. So what’s the master plan? Dinner?

You know a good place in town or around here? J.D. asked, relieved that Shelli was willing to help. She made a face.

I know lots of good places. So does Corrie. Nothing new there for her. Why don’t YOU make her dinner yourself? J.D. stared at her.

Me?

Unless you have a private chef or Bobby Flay’s personal number. Don’t you get it? Something different, J.D. Something new. He shook his head.

I thought the idea was to get her out of the campground. And in case you forgot, I’ve been living in a one-room cabin in that same campground. I don’t exactly have a gourmet kitchen. I thought maybe dinner in a classy place…. Shelli waved a hand, dismissing his response.

Oh, like Chief Eldon LaRue did? You’re not Eldon, thank God, and you don’t want Corrie associating your first date with him or anyone else. You know she’s dated other guys in the past, right? J.D. felt his smile and excitement slip away.

Like Sheriff Rick Sutton? Shelli grew somber.

Yeah. That’s a long story….

I got time, he said, leaning on the bar.

I don’t. I’m working. And it’s not my story to tell, Shelli said bluntly. She shook her red curls back from her face. Look, J.D., trust me. I know Corrie’s ready to move on with her life, but I also know you have to take it slow with her. Dinner at your place … her place. Whatever you want to call it. You have a grill. What’s your specialty? And if you say hot dogs, I’ll clobber you with this bottle. J.D. grinned.

I suppose I can grill something and make a halfway decent salad. Now what do you suggest for a wine besides Corrie’s favorite?

I’ve got several, so why don’t you do a tasting and decide what YOU think she’ll like?

You ever consider working as a professional matchmaker? he said with a grin as she set a wine glass on the bar. She laughed.

If you only knew all about MY personal life…. She reached for a bottle of red wine and poured a sample into his glass. Now what about dessert?

I’ll let that take care of itself, he said. She stopped his arm as he raised the glass to his lips. What? he asked.

Her eyes were dark and her face serious. She’s been through enough, J.D. And I know she likes you a lot. Just don’t mess with her heart. If you’re not serious, if you have absolutely no intention of ever being serious about her, then don’t even start. I don’t ever want to see her get hurt like that again.

J.D. raised his glass. Neither do I, he said.

Chapter 1

So it’s official? You’re now a member of the Village of Bonney police department?

J.D. bowed as Corrie clapped her hands. It was after twelve noon, far later than his usual time to stop in at the campground store for his morning coffee, but he had been busy this particular morning, even before his stop at the winery. Detective J.D. Wilder at your service, ma’am, he said in a formal tone. Corrie raised her brows in surprise.

‘Detective’? I didn’t realize that the Bonney police force had detectives, she said. J.D. gave a shrug and grinned.

The position was created when it was discovered that I am, shall we say, overqualified for the position of patrol officer. Corrie laughed.

Was that your suggestion, just so you wouldn’t have to wear a uniform?

No, ma’am, it was the mayor’s suggestion, J.D. said. Corrie’s eyes widened.

Larry Donovon told Eldon to make you a detective?

He stopped in while Chief LaRue was interviewing me for the job and asked why I wasn’t hired already. Eldon tried to explain that he didn’t have the equivalent of my lieutenant’s rank available in the department, so Mayor Donovon suggested making me a detective. The chief didn’t seem happy, but what could he say?

Not much if he wants to keep the peace at home, Corrie said dryly, though she grinned. Thanksgiving dinner at the LaRue house must be interesting ever since Eldon’s sister married the mayor. So when do you report for duty?

Tomorrow morning at eight a.m. sharp, J.D. said. He took a swig from his cup of piñon coffee. He sighed. I’m going to miss the coffee and pastries here at the Black Horse. It’s going to be hard to have to get used to cop sludge at the station again.

He turned toward the courtesy table on the pretext of helping himself to a lemon-blueberry muffin from the tray but, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Corrie’s reaction. She almost succeeded in hiding her look of dismay before he turned back toward her, keeping his own expression as neutral as possible.

Oh, I hear Connie Archuleta has some mad kitchen skills in addition to her dispatcher ones. She makes pretty good coffee and keeps the office canteen area well-stocked with all kinds of goodies for the officers, she said. Apparently she couldn’t help herself and she went on, So does this mean you’ll be moving to another place soon?

J.D. decided to have pity on her. He smiled. That depends. Do you need the cabin for other guests, or can we work out some kind of long-term rental arrangement? He quirked an eyebrow at her.

He could see her struggle not to appear overly elated or eager even as her face turned red. She cleared her throat. I’m sure we can work something out, she said. If you’re sure you’re not tired of living in a one-room cabin without a kitchen and bathroom, she added.

I think I can manage to drag myself to the campground restrooms whenever necessary, he said. And a grill and microwave is a good enough kitchen for me. And I know a place that serves pretty good meals on the weekends not too far from here. I think the owner will let me have a plate in exchange for me doing a trash sweep.

Oh, no, you don’t, Detective Wilder! Corrie said, wagging a finger at him. Paying guests don’t do campground work! He laughed and then grew serious.

I don’t know if I like being a ‘paying guest’ then, he said, looking directly into Corrie’s eyes. I’d much rather still be considered a part of the Black Horse Campground, not someone who’s just here for a short time and then moves on.

He wouldn’t have believed that her face could have gotten any redder. She blinked and looked away, biting her lip. He tensed, thinking about his plans and wondering if he’d made a mistake.

Ever since Sheriff Rick Sutton’s ex-wife, Meghan, had showed up two weeks earlier, he’d noticed that the sheriff hadn’t been showing up every morning for coffee like he always had. The couple of times Sutton had dropped in, he hadn’t stayed longer than a minute or two and his conversations with Corrie had been brief, cordial, and extremely awkward. He’d hardly even said two words to J.D. either, except to wish him luck with his application to the Bonney Police Department. As for Corrie, every time he, J.D., walked into the camp store in the mornings, she’d looked up eagerly from her work and almost managed to hide the flicker of disappointment in her eyes when she saw it wasn’t Sutton.

For the last couple of days, however, he’d noticed her smile was immediate when she saw him walk in the door. Now she was getting J.D. his coffee, like she’d always done for the sheriff, although J.D. certainly didn’t expect her to. And, though he was reluctant to admit it to his own fevered imagination, she seemed a lot more … receptive to J.D.’s company.

He hoped he wasn’t imagining things.

She looked back at him and her cheeks still glowed a rosy pink, but her coffee-brown eyes held a greater degree of warmth than they usually had for him. She smiled. The Black Horse is your home for as long as you want it to be, Detective Wilder, she said softly.

J.D.’s brain went completely blank for a few seconds until the tinkling of the door bell and the dutiful woof from Corrie’s black Lab, Renfro, snapped him out of his stupor. Several people came into the store, fanning out to make purchases, use the TV room, and a few coming up to the counter to inquire of Corrie about local points of interest and places to visit. Corrie threw him an apologetic smile before turning to attend to the customers and J.D. realized she’d be tied up for a while. Jackie Page bustled in, having seen the crowd approach from the kitchen window of her RV, and slipped in behind the counter to assist Corrie. She had plenty of help. There was no need for him to hang around. Maybe it would be better to go back to his cabin, regroup, and prepare for his next move.

They sat in the vehicle parked alongside the road where a row of trees shielded them from view of anyone in the campground below, unless they happened to be looking up at the highway. The driver kept checking the side mirror, muttering dire predictions of what would happen if a police officer should come along and ask what they were doing. The passenger ignored the driver and continued to study the people visible inside the campground store through the large glass window. The high-powered binoculars made them all seem as if they were merely a few feet away. So close. Excitement mixed with trepidation crept down the viewer’s back, creating a weird feeling of euphoria. The driver shifted, looking over a shoulder and then turned to the passenger impatiently. Recognize anyone yet?

Yes. No further information was added. There was no need.

So are you going in?

No. That’s not the plan….

Since when do you ever stick to a plan? the driver huffed.

And there are too many people around.

How much longer are we going to sit here? If a cop comes by….

Not likely.

Very likely. I know it. You know it. Let’s get going. We haven’t decided how much longer we’re going to be staying yet….

I have.

Well, thanks for letting me in on it! Anything else you plan to keep me in the dark about?

Plenty. The binoculars came down and the passenger smiled. Let’s get going.

Chapter 2

Tuesday morning

J.D. parked his Harley in one of the ten spaces reserved for officers outside the Village of Bonney police department, removed his helmet, and took a deep breath, trying to work up more enthusiasm than he felt. His mood was a bit soured. He’d never had a chance the day before to go back and ask Corrie to dinner. Business at the Black Horse had snowballed until it was after eight-thirty when he saw the lights in the store go out and the one in Corrie’s apartment on the second floor go on. Before he could make up his mind to call her and ask to see her, the light went out, signaling that she had gone to bed.

This morning hadn’t been any better. People were waiting outside the campground store when she opened at seven. He’d gone in, hoping to catch her for a few minutes before he had to leave to report for work at eight o’clock, but no other employees were scheduled until seven-thirty and she had to handle all the guests by herself. He barely managed to grab a cup of piñon coffee before he gave up and settled for a quick hello and smile as he headed out the door.

As he made his way to the front of the village police department, he felt a slight stirring of familiar excitement. Bonney, New Mexico was a far cry from Houston, Texas and while J.D. doubted he’d be called upon to investigate the kind of crimes that he’d