Dark Hearts by Sharon Sala Page A

memory.”
    â€œApparently,” Trey said, and then glanced at Dallas. “How’s it going?”
    â€œSlow. About half the class moved away.”
    â€œI want to know where all of them live now,” Trey said.
    â€œWhat about the ones who live here?” Sam asked.
    â€œWhat about them?” Trey asked.
    â€œYou should confront them when they’re together. I’ve found that once you get a bunch of people together, if they have something to hide, one of them will say something that opens a floodgate.”
    Trey glanced up at the clock. “The paper goes to press at three,” he said. “I just might have time to get a request in for tomorrow’s issue.”
    â€œTell me what you want said. I’ll take it over there myself,” Sam offered.
    â€œWait,” Dallas said. “Let me pull up a blank screen and I’ll type it for you.”
    â€œTell me when you’re ready,” Trey said.
    She nodded. “Ready.”
    â€œChief Trey Jakes requests the presence of every graduate of the class of 1980 still living in the area at City Hall day after tomorrow at noon. They will be interrogated regarding the night of their high school graduation. Anyone who doesn’t appear will be brought into the precinct for questioning at a later date. As a reminder to all, there is a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person responsible for the murders of Dick Phillips, Paul Jackson and Betsy Jakes.”
    Dallas’s fingers were flying over the keyboard as she typed. Then she finished and read it back to him. When he okayed it, she printed it out and handed it to Sam.
    â€œThe paper is still in the same place,” she said.
    â€œI saw it,” Sam said, and settled the Stetson a little more firmly on his head as he left the room.
    His stride was long, his steps sure as he left the precinct and headed down the street. He could have driven the three blocks, but it felt good to be walking somewhere.
    Trey had filled him in on the details of all the murders, even the condition of his mother’s body when he’d found her. He was still reeling from the knowledge and imagining his brother’s horror.
    He paused at a stop sign before he crossed a street, and saw the look of recognition on a driver’s face before he honked and waved.
    Sam nodded and kept on walking.
    A few minutes later he entered the newspaper office and recognized the man behind the desk.
    â€œAfternoon, Mr. Sherman. I have a notice that Chief Jakes needs you to run in tomorrow’s paper.”
    Glen Sherman frowned. “We’re about ready to put the paper to bed.”
    â€œIt’s important,” Sam said. “It concerns the murders.”
    Sherman’s expression shifted. “Let me see it.”
    Sam handed it over and watched the changing expressions on the editor’s face.
    â€œTell him I’ll run it on the front page. My headline didn’t amount to shit anyway.”
    â€œThank you,” Sam said.
    â€œYou’re Sam Jakes, aren’t you?” Sherman asked.
    Sam nodded.
    â€œI’m real sorry about Betsy. She was a friend. I heard your sister came out of surgery okay. How’s she doing?”
    â€œSo far, so good,” Sam said. “I’ll pass the message on to my brother, and thank you for the placement. Maybe it will rattle a few memories.”
    Sherman grimaced. “Most likely skeletons,” he said. “They’re always around if people care to look, and ten thousand dollars makes for a lot of incentive.”
    Sam was still thinking about that comment as he walked back to the precinct. Rattling skeletons. Maybe he could rattle some nerves tomorrow while they were at it.
    * * *
    That evening Sam was in the lobby of Cutter’s Steakhouse waiting on Trey and Dallas to come in from the farm.
    Nearly everyone who entered did a double take, recognizing him as