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    Whispers of Winterwood
    Whispers of Winterwood
    Whispers of Winterwood
    Ebook312 pages4 hours

    Whispers of Winterwood

    By Lazette Gifford

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    About this ebook

    Four years ago at the age of 18, Derek Lee Stuart went to prison for a robbery he didn't commit. The last thing he wanted to do was return to Winterwood -- but when his grandmother asks him to visit for the holidays, he can't say no to the one person who still believed in him.

    Unfortunately, everything from a snow storm to another robbery seems to be against him. The quiet visit with his grandmother is turning into a nightmare.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA Conspiracy of Authors
    Release dateDec 22, 2016
    ISBN9781936507696
    Whispers of Winterwood
    Author

    Lazette Gifford

    Lazette is an avid writer as well as the owner of Forward Motion for Writers and the owner/editor of Vision: A Resource for Writers.It's possible she spends too much time with writers.And cats.

    Read more from Lazette Gifford

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      Book preview

      Whispers of Winterwood - Lazette Gifford

      Chapter One

      When Elsie Smith said she could get him a job cleaning up nights at her father's jewelry store, Derek Lee Stuart didn't ask why the school's rich-bitch had suddenly decided to be nice to him. He didn't even care. No one else would hire him -- not Ed's son and Steve's younger brother.

      So the day after the new year began, Derek walked through the cold, icy streets of Winterwood, his hands shoved into his pockets -- Steve had stolen his gloves again -- and made his way to the back door of the shop. They'd have just closed no more than five minutes ago, and he hoped he didn't have to wait.

      Elsie met him outside, which he hadn't expected. She held a big box in her hands, but when he offered to take it she shook her head. Just open the door.

      He held it open for her, frowning when he realized how much the knob jiggled. He would have thought a place like this would take better care of their doors.

      Elsie looked back at him, frowning with a look of impatience. Come on. I don't want to be here all night.

      Derek followed as Elsie passed through a dark room filled with desks, equipment, file cabinets, and a large safe, open but empty. It had shelves, and he thought they must put the jewelry there at night. Elsie worked at the shop; she must not have gotten to this part yet.

      He'd heard at school that Elsie's father intended to sell the entire stock to someone in Winter Park, or maybe even Denver. Business had not been good in Winterwood for the last few years, though the slopes out west of town still drew quite a few tourists, and had its own little mini-mall. He stayed away from that area. The cops didn't like to see him there, where the tourists congregated.

      Elsie led him straight out into the front part of the shop; the blinds were down and the open sign shut off. Glass cases lined the walls with all the diamonds and shit just sitting there behind a thin layer of glass.

      You're just going to clean the glass cases tonight. I don't have time to stick around for long, Elsie said. She waved her hand toward some paper towels and cleaner sitting on a table beside her. Then she drew her lips back in a look that she probably intended for a smile. Make them shine, Derek.

      Yeah, right.

      He started spraying and cleaning the glass while Elsie stood by the door to the back room, scowling at him, as though she hadn't invited him here.

      For God's sake, take your jacket off, boy, Elsie ordered. You know, people always say you're dumber than dirt, but I didn't really believe it. You might prove me wrong.

      I'm not stupid, Derek said. He did take his jacket off and carefully hung it over the edge of a chair by the cash register.

      Yeah, right. Last I heard you still can't read more than Dick and Jane, and you probably memorized that, right?

      He ignored her as he worked. He wanted the job, the money -- and people had said worse about him. He cleaned. The glass shined. He even enjoyed looking down through the glass into the cases and see all those jewels glittering. They must have sold quite a bit, or else just didn't bother to replace spots any longer since her father was going to sell the shop as soon as he got back from his trip. Everyone had heard about the European Business Trip at school. More than a few people said he'd actually spent a few months in rehab, but they didn't say it to Elsie's face.

      You almost finished?

      Yes, ma'am.

      She snorted at that answer, but he saw her face redden. Maybe it reminded her that she really was a bitch, and make her think twice about acting that way. Or maybe not. She marched across the room and grabbed his jacket off the chair and bunched it up as she handed it to him.

      Come on. I have places to go. I need to get this crap into the safe. I'll pay you tomorrow after you clean the floors and shit.

      Fine, he said. Looking back, he could see that he'd done a good job. The glass shined. That's all that mattered right then.

      He stepped out into the alley again. The snow still fell in small, delicate flakes as he pushed open the back door. Your doorknob is loose, he said.

      Yeah, yeah. We got other locks. Just go.

      He had a nice walk through the curving streets of Winterwood. A few places still had their holiday lights up, which lent a fairytale look to the little town nestled at the base of the mountain. He could see the lights of the snow lift behind the outcrop of a hill. The glow looked like some Close Encounters special effects.

      He didn't like Winterwood. Derek thought about moving away to Denver, or maybe somewhere even farther -- somewhere without snow? Somewhere warm all year where he could live in a cheap ass apartment and save money, even if he could only get a poor paying job somewhere. Derek didn't care. He just wanted away from his father and brother. He'd miss his grandmother, but maybe he'd get enough money to move her away as well.

      Two cops picked him up right in front of the Mountain View Manor. He hoped Grandma Hedges wasn't watching. He didn't know what he'd done to bring them looking for him this time -- not until they demanded to know what he'd done with the jewelry. They found a ring shoved into a torn corner of his jacket pocket.

      Derek Lee Stuart knew exactly what he'd done wrong: he'd had been stupid. He'd been stupider than Elsie could have ever hoped to find.

      The first night in jail began a long nightmare from which he didn't wake. The police asked him questions he couldn't answer, shook papers in front of his face that he couldn't read, and demanded to know where he had left the rest of the jewels.

      They found a bracelet and another ring along the path he'd taken away from the shop. Proof, they said, smirking at him.

      They let his father in to see him later that night. Derek sat in the chair in the windowless room and watched as Ed Stuart stepped up to the table, looking down at him. He'd heard the cops whispering earlier about how Ed had to be involved, and maybe even Derek's brother Steve. Derek wasn't smart enough to pull this off himself.

      Derek saw the look on his father's face. He kept his hands on the table in front of him and waited. Ed Stuart couldn't frighten him, not even with that look. Not tonight.

      So, his father said, leaning closer. He could smell cheap liquor on his breath. Thought you'd do something like this and not even tell me? His voice dropped to a near-whisper. Where'd you put the jewels, boy?

      I didn't rob that place.

      He slugged Derek. The chair fell backward, and Ed kept yelling and kicking, shouting about how stupid he'd been to screw this up, and think he could do something on his own.

      The cops finally dragged his father off and took Derek back to his cell. They didn't suggest his father and brother had been involved again.

      The lawyer came the next day. She quietly told him that if he turned over the rest of the jewelry, it would help his case. Derek told her that he hadn't stolen anything, but he could tell from her face that she never believed him.

      And his life went on like that for days. Sheriff McKellen, who had been out of town when the robbery occurred, talked to him privately on the fourth day, asking about the bruises on his face. Not the police, Derek assured him -- wondering if he was a fool for not trying to implicate them, but Derek knew that lying now wouldn't help.

      Days and days, sitting in the jail cell, the walls too close, the panic keeping him awake in the night while he sat shivering on the cot.

      No one who believed him.

      The trial, at least, went quickly. The cops took Derek into the big beige building with the marble floors and mosaic walls, and into the dark room of wood and benches.

      Judge Harris came in. No hope there. Derek had faced the man before as a juvenile, and the judge had never believed that someone else had started the occasional fights, trying to see if Derek was just as tough as his older brother.

      Derek told what happened. He didn't look at the people watching, though he became vaguely aware that they were mostly Elsie's relatives anyway, there to support her. His father and brother never came to court unless they were dragged in. He didn't want his grandmother here.

      They put Elsie on the stand right after he had testified.

      She lied. She lied when she said how Derek had been following her for days, trying to force himself on her -- but knowing his family background, she'd been afraid of his father and brother, and said nothing. She lied about how he had shoved his way into the shop. They had his fingerprints all over the cases with the broken glass and the doorknob that had been partially pried off.

      For a while they talked about how there must have been someone else involved. Derek didn't have more than a couple of the pieces on him and his path had been easy to trace. Besides, everyone knew Derek wasn't smart enough to pull something like this off.

      He denied robbing the place, let alone working with anyone else.

      They convicted Derek, of course. He'd never expected anything different from the moment Elsie started lying. The fact that he wouldn't tell them where he'd hidden the jewelry didn't help. They sent him to prison -- Three years, with the possibility of parole at the end of the first year. A light sentence, the judge said, looking at him: To see if you are smart enough to learn a lesson from it.

      Derek stayed out of trouble, and he even made parole on the first try. After they let him out, he went to work as a janitor at a Denver factory -- hated cleaning the damned windows and mirrors -- and never missed a date with his parole officer. Derek got through it. He stayed out of trouble.

      The three years passed slowly.

      That's it, Don Preston said, closing the file. This is your last parole visit, and if you stay out of trouble like you have, the last time you ever have to worry about this again.

      Thanks, he said. He tried to sound grateful. The large, intimidating black man hadn't been bad once Preston came to realize that Derek Stuart had no intention of causing him trouble. Derek had been forced to work with far worse people, from uncaring guards to fellow workers who tried to push him into showing how tough the prison boy was. Now he wanted nothing more than to get away from his own life and lose himself somewhere....

      Your grandmother called me yesterday, Don said suddenly.

      Derek, who had started to push up from the chair, stopped and looked up, startled. It took him a moment before he could speak. What's wrong?

      Nothing that I could tell. She just said that she'd like to see you for Christmas this year, and I told her that you'd be free to do what you like after today. She sounded pleased.

      Yeah. She's a lot like my mother was -- that was her daughter, Derek said.

      How did your mother die? Preston asked, starting to open the file and stopping again.

      Pneumonia.

      Ah.

      Derek stood. He looked at the man. You know, it's strange. No one ever asks how she got pneumonia.

      Preston looked up at him. Neither of them moved for a moment. Then Don Preston nodded and laid his hand on the top of the desk. From all I've read, your father is a real bastard, Derek. If you do go to see your grandmother, stay clear of him.

      I'm almost twenty-two, Derek said. It's not like when I was twelve and didn't have a choice -- or sixteen and just didn't give a damn anymore. I'm not going near him if I can avoid it.

      Good. Don stood and offered his hand.

      They shook. It felt odd, like Derek's long nightmare should have just ended. He didn't think he'd woken up yet. Maybe that would come later. Maybe when he went home to his hovel of a sleeping room, he would finally accept that there were no more locked doors between him and the outside.

      You know, I wouldn't mind hearing from you now and then, Preston said. I don't get many people like you, Derek. Too many of them end up back in prison long before they get as far as you have. I like to think that maybe, sometimes, the people I work with come out of this all right.

      I'll try, Derek said. But I can't read or write very well.

      Call sometimes, if you can. Call collect if you need to. If there is trouble I can help you out of, I will.

      That came as an unexpected offer. Thank you. And I'll stay out of trouble.

      That's what I want to hear. Good luck, Derek.

      Derek Lee Stuart walked to the office door, and stopped there, finally looking back at Preston. The man had started to put Derek's file away. He looked back to the door, surprised to find Derek still standing there.

      I didn't steal that jewelry, Derek said.

      And for one, brief moment he thought he might even see belief in the man's eyes.

      Chapter Two

      At a few minutes after midnight on the morning of December 24th, with a snowstorm raging around him, Derek Lee Stuart walked back into Winterwood.

      He hadn't intended for his homecoming to be quite this melodramatic, but his car had hit a patch of ice and gone off the road a couple miles back. Even if he could have pushed the car up the embankment, he wouldn't have gotten far with the two back tires flat and the hood scrunched in.

      He should have come up yesterday like he planned but when his boss offered some last minute overtime, he'd gladly remained. He wanted to move out of his sleeping room and into a real apartment soon. He wanted a real life.

      His grandmother would understand. He'd left word at the Home and hoped it got to her. He hated to think that she might have worried about him.

      Derek had planned to make a quick trip up and back, but the weather and the car wreck conspired against him. Prophetic, he thought, trying to shove his hands farther into the pockets of his jacket. The crash was yet another sign that this was a damned bad idea. His luck that the first major storm hit on the one day he headed into the mountains. He kicked at the drifts of snow and tried to remember what it had been like when he was younger and still liked the stuff.

      He wasn't more than a mile to the town now and this was no worse than the walks he had often taken at the edges of Denver, grateful to spend some time alone. He'd gotten into shape that way, at least and enjoyed hiking.

      Cabins and houses sat at intervals along the road, nestled back in the trees and mostly unseen except for a flickering light. He used to ride this way on his bike, taking the curves too fast, daring a car to be on the narrow road. He'd scared the hell out of a couple people and regretted that now. It was easy to regret stupid things after so many hard years.

      The road didn't present a difficult climb, at least. Most of the terrain in this area had been worn away by long past glaciers, leaving the area a favorite location for day hikers in the summer. He'd taken a few of those trails to get away from everyone. He would have liked this walk in better weather.

      The scent of pine filled the air, and he took another deep long breath. He couldn't remember the last time he'd inhaled air this fresh. Denver always smelled of cars and fast food, and he couldn't remember a moment when it had been quiet, even during the storms. Tonight, as he walked along the side of the road, Derek could only hear a distant truck on the curving road behind him, crawling up to town. He saw deer standing in the trees, and maybe even a coyote. Hadn't been any wolves or cougars in this area for years -- unless they'd made a comeback since he had left.

      That thought started him shivering even though he had ignored the cold. Nothing had changed in Winterwood, and it felt like walking back into town made him eighteen again, rather than nearly twenty-two. Could he turn back time, and make all the nightmare of the last four years disappear?

      He kicked at the snow again. Pretty stuff.

      The tall pine trees still grew right up to the edge of the town. No new buildings, then -- no growth like there had been out in some of the other places along Highway 40. Winterwood had been stagnant since he moved here with his father and brother.

      The big ski resorts had drawn away most of the vacationers, and Winterwood, out on a twisty, narrow road that led nowhere else, never came back from that loss. They had a small set of slopes and a good hotel out at the other edge of town, where families still came for a few days in the snow. Cabins sat up the mountainside; lovely, out of the way places for people who didn't want the manic pace of Aspen, Winter Park, or Estes Park.

      Winterwood still had the Winter Sled and Toboggan Factory. He passed the building sitting back from the edge of the road. The factory provided some jobs. Sleds and toboggans sold well to all the tourist towns nearby where businesses found it far cheaper to buy locally than shipping them in from some other place. His father had worked there for a while. Those had been a few good, quiet weeks.

      Derek didn't want to be in Winterwood.

      He reached the curve of the road where it dipped down along the hillside and turned sharply. People were fools who didn't pay attention to the sign. The road led straight into the business district. Christmas lights flickered in the snowfall, and small bells caught the breeze with a lovely whisper of sound. He saw no sign of life. He didn't want to see anyone in this town but his Grandmother. Of course, they weren't going to let him see her at midnight.

      Bad timing -- he hadn't counted on the storm blowing in so fast and hard, snarling traffic and slowing him down by more than five hours. He'd already been half way to Fraser when the worst hit, and by then the traffic was equally bad both ways.

      Never should have trusted the weather reports or his car. He'd planned to arrive no later than seven, visit for a while, and go back home. Now he had to worry if he could get the car out and working to make it back in time before he went to work on the 26th. If he wasn't there --

      He didn't have to worry about it. He didn't have to explain to the parole officer about the accident and produce paperwork to prove he wasn't lying. Derek wouldn't have to explain why he had left town, why he wasn't where he should have been -- why he breathed when no one told him he could. Derek didn't ever have to go back to Denver if he didn't feel like it. The room he rented by the week would go to someone else. Derek had taken all his belongings with him anyway since it wasn't safe to leave anything sitting there unprotected. He owned damned little and even if he lost the car, he couldn't say it mattered much.

      But while Derek felt a wave of satisfaction at knowing he didn't have to go back, he still had a problem with being here at midnight in the middle of a snowstorm. He tried to pull the coat tighter he couldn't stop trembling.

      Where could he go for the night? He didn't have money for a hotel, and he had no friends. He wondered if his father and brother still lived here. He hadn't heard from them, and he didn't want to go near the house -- but for grandma....

      He stopped to rub his knee. His leg had ached from the moment he stepped out of the car, but the cold had helped numb pain. He knew he'd banged his knee up for sure, maybe his left arm as well. The occasional twinges of pain through his knee and elbow did not make this trip any better. He kept moving, kicking through the snow as he tried to get

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