Authors: J. A. Carlton
He’s gone
. But he’d been there.
Which means whoever killed dad was most likely local.
Most likely someone everyone knows and someone who could move among a house full of townies without being noticed.
With the room cleared, Jase holstered his gun and went to Sam who stood leaning against the door jamb with her arms crossed over her chest, and her expression blank.
No anger, no tears…yet, that’s not a good sign.
He turned her away from the mess and closed the door, leading her into Owens room before he called the Sheriff.
Undeniably exhausted in all ways, Sam left Jase to handle the processes that would come next. Boomer would come because he’s the town sheriff. Sherm, Paulson and Rummy at the very least would also be called in. And of course, Jase would call Pete.
In the wing-backed chair that looked out the window, she tucked her feet under her and rested her head with her eyes fixed through the slats of the blinds out into the velvet night beyond the streetlamp. She was grateful for shock, it kept everything at bay while she embraced numbness.
A few minutes later Jase returned to the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Sheriff Hamilton’s on his way. Pete wants to come, but the cap doesn’t want him to leave the area till I get back,” he shrugged, “you know, just in case.”
She nodded, “What about Sherm? He’s the one handling dad’s murder.”
“He’s on his way with the Bobbsey-twins.”
“Jase, we should go to my office in the morning and see if anything’s come yet.” For the moment, Gertrude Waldham, her grand niece Amelia Caffey, and nephew-in-law Charles, were entirely dismissed from her mind.
Jase smiled gently, “That’s just what I was thinking. I’ll call Pete and have him meet us there around eleven.”
--
A quick glance to his left and Jase lowered his voice another notch. It looked like Sam was asleep, curled into the chair, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake her before there was a solid game plan.
“We don’t even know if the two are related, Edwards.” Sherm, an appropriately Harry Morgan-esque man pointed out quietly.
Behind the loose circle made by the law men, Rumsfeld and Paulson worked their preliminary forensic hoodoo on Sam’s room.
“Oh come ON!” Jase scowled, “You know as well as I do that this was NO coincidence! The son of a bitch is a townie and you KNOW it! AND you know he’s the same son of a bitch that killed Dave!” he argued quietly.
“I know, and for the record, I agree. But it’s not me we gotta worry about here, it’s the captain.”
“Look guys, I got no problem sharing jurisdiction here. If that’s the issue, I’ll give Captain Zegler a call, I mean, we’re all on the same side here, right?” Boomer offered, also mindful of the sleeping woman just a few feet away. He’d known Sam all her life, and after what she’d just gone through, and the horrible way her dad had been killed, he’d do anything to help.
Sherm sighed patting the man’s shoulder, “County works a little different than small town Boomer, you know that already.” He was speaking in reference to how effectively the sheriff had been almost completely shut out of the investigation into Dave’s murder. “Fact is, we all know it’s probable the guy who killed Dave did this. Let’s just see if we can get something concrete. You know Z
will
give us some slack on this. Sad thing is, even though it’s not likely, it
could
be totally unrelated.”
Jase groaned angrily, “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, figure it’s a fucking duck!”
“Occam’s Razor!” Paulson called over his shoulder.
“I am not going to put that girl in jeopardy!” he leaned toward Sherm.
“Then get her back to the city, keep her at your place or at Pete’s or anywhere you can keep an eye on her until we talk to Z and make it all official.” He suggested, unaffected by the detective’s vehemence.
“Pete’s?” Jase asked, surprised by the suggestion.
“You’ve got your own case, remember? Serial rapist, cum killer, you can’t let yourself get distracted.”
“Good point, she could wind up
in
harm’s way instead of out of it.”
Paulson emerged from the room draping one arm across Sherm’s shoulders and the other over Jase’s, “Me’n Rummy’s got all we can get from our end. You’re gonna hafta get Ming out here if you wanna go all the way with this.”
“Got prints?” Jase asked, trying to keep his mind off how very out-of-his-element he felt by steeping himself in procedure.
He’d been on the force for 13 years and a detective for the last 5. In that time, he often had to put himself into different mindsets, some of which were extremely uncomfortable, but the one that always hit him hardest was the victims’.
He frowned glancing at the woman who’d been wheeled away in an ambulance with his heart in her possession only three short years ago,
I don’t care what he takes, what he touches, what he does… as long as he stays the hell away from what’s mine.
“Tons, just don’t know who’s yet.”
Sherm glanced between Jase and Boomer, “You got the Shiner’s making a list of everyone who was here tonight, right?”
“Everyone they remember, Sherm, it was like half the town.”
The older man smirked pointedly at the town Sheriff, “Well, I’m sure Boomer’s gonna be willing to help us narrow that list down a bit, yeah?”
Boomer nodded, “Damned straight. Dave was a once in a lifetime guy y’know? Sammy’s a good girl. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.”
--
Not really feeling like much had been accomplished in spite of the flurry of activity he’d just tight-roped his way through, Jase shifted Sam from the chair into the bed and tucked her in. He took her place in the chair with his mind spinning in ever tightening circles while his eyes rested on her through the night.
5
Her cell’s chime sliced cleanly through the cozy envelope of sleep that kept Sam safe through the night. With a groan, she rolled forward, tapping around on the night table, reaching for that horrible device.
“Mmm’ello?”
“Mornin’ sleepyhead, are you coming in today? No one left me your schedule.” Diane Thompson’s sharp, chipper voice on the other end made the young psychologist wince while she stretched and forced herself out of bed and toward the bathroom.
“Welcome back,” she yawned turning on the water, “How was the vacation?”
“Good. Too short though, so are you coming in today or not?”
Sam set the cell down on the sink then splashed her face, “Mm mm, no. Well, not to work. There shouldn’t be any appointments for me today anyway.”
Slowly yesterday’s events started coming back to mind, “Look D, do yourself a favor, go back to your folks house for a few days, or go home, whatever you want.”
I don’t care.
As Jase rounded the corner into the bathroom with a cup of coffee in hand for each of them, a warm smile renewed her day. He leaned down brushing her temple with his lips.
“I think that envelope y’all have been waiting for finally got here.” The secretary said.
“Morning.” He greeted softly.
“What?” She asked into the phone, “When?” then turned her head to nuzzle his stubble.
“Maybe came with yesterday’s mail, so probably around lunch time. Sam what’s goin’ on?”
“Put it in the safe and leave the office, Diane. Don’t tell anyone about it. Jase and I are going to meet Pete there around 11.”
“The envelope?” Jase mouthed more than said. Sam nodded confirmation.
“What’s goin’ on Sam? You’re scaring me here.” her voice audibly trembling.
Calm down, Sam, stay calm.
She took a breath releasing it slowly. Diane’s temperament was more well suited to the most innocuous reception job imaginable, perhaps an acquisition department of a local museum.
Yeah, and every call that came in she’d think some ancient curse had come to life.
“Look D, just go home. Take the rest of the week off, I’ll call you Monday, okay?” Sam pressed.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, thanks. Just go and enjoy the rest of the week alright?” Sam insisted impatiently, crossing back into the bedroom where she hunted the floor for her boots.
“Sam?”
“I gotta go, talk with you later, okay?” She hung up quickly, tilting the coffee mug in Jase’s hand to her lips for a long draught before sliding into her boots.
“Good morning,” he smiled.
“Let’s hope so,” she nodded.
--
Emotionally drained by the tumult of the previous night, Randy leaned against the wall inside the stairwell. He pulled the bill of the cap just a little lower, pushed the thicker rims of the windowpane glasses back up his nose and adjusted the bud in his ear, then refilled the cup from his thermos, wincing at the crackling of structural interference through the amplifier.
“Piece of shit,” he grumbled. Every sense was on high alert. The emptiness that had chased him into the morning from the night’s dream had him on edge.
I never should have asked him to stop. It’s my fault neither one of us is whole, I’ll make it right though. Once I’m done here, I swear I’ll make it right. We’ll go somewhere, Eric, I promise. We’ll go somewhere no one knows we’re brothers, then we can live in peace. I’ll make it up to you, you deserve that much, then you can see I never stopped. I never stopped loving you. I just didn’t understand.
Everything changed that day at the Barn;
He’d
changed everything, and it’d taken a long time before he was able to look at his little brother again without seeing canyon deep hurt in his eyes.
“…in the safe… leave the office…n’t tell anyone abou…it. Jase ‘n I’ll… ick it up…” Sam’s morning-thick voice stuttered over the connection.
Randy sat up straight, turning the amplifier, losing the conversation for a second before finding it again, “Look… go home…ake the…eek off. … call you by…day okay?”
As soon as he was certain the line was disconnected, he capped the thermos, tucked the amplifier into the pocket of the navy blue custodial jumpsuit he wore and dashed down the stairs toward the parking garage.
--
Diane hastily gathered her things, locked Sam’s office door, and told the other employees she’d been sent home for the rest of the week.
Tiny tight steps carried her out into the hall where she stood surrounded by classic prints and elegant décor she no longer saw, while waiting for the elevator that would take her to the parking garage. Movement at her chest caught her attention and she found herself entranced by the sight of her blouse vibrating in time with her pounding heartbeat.
An eternity later the elevator arrived. Once inside she leaned against the dark paneling, trying to rearrange her grip on the files she’d grabbed off the desk, but didn’t take the time to slide into her briefcase. Between her shaking hands and the initial drop of the car, the bundle of papers exploded to the floor.
“Dammit!” she cursed.
Calm down you silly nit! It’s just a precaution that’s all, nothing more. Just stay calm,
her inner voice reasoned, but her foremost mind would have none of it. She was scared, plain and simple. She’d never known anyone who’d been murdered before, and though she hadn’t known David Backer personally, knowing his daughter was just a little too close for comfort.
A soft double chime announced her arrival in the parking garage as she shoved the files ruthlessly into her briefcase, haphazardly making an attempt at composing herself. On the way out, her heel slipped between the car and the shaft sending her lurching forward, arms wind-milling for balance as her keys and security badge flew from her hand, and several papers leaped to freedom.
“Dammit!” she cursed again.
“Hey, easy there now,” Randy grinned jogging toward her, the sight of a security cap and jacket visibly starting to set the woman at ease.
“Here, lemme give you a hand.” He bent down helping to scoop up her badge and a few papers while she chased her overloaded key ring.
“Thanks,” she glanced at him smiling awkwardly at those bright crystalline green eyes, “I just, you know, a little discombobulated is all,” she stammered.
He cocked his head to the side still smiling easily, “No problem, we’ve all had those kinds of days. You look a little upset, is there a problem?”
Diane chuckled, nervously shaking her head, “No, no, I’m just a little, I need to get home,” they rose together, Randy holding out the papers to her as she started to back away, looking over her shoulder for her car.
She looked up from his hand, “Thank you,” her smile faltered.
Randy handed the papers to her, walking beside her down the row of cars, step by step drawing closer to his van.
“Are you sure you’re in any shape to be driving anywhere? Is there someone you can call?”
“No thanks, I just…” she watched his eyes flick down the row, then his hand came up with her badge in it.
“I think this is yours, too,” he smiled.
With another nervous chuckle, Diane looked down at her blazer then shook her head, her hand reaching toward the badge.
The instant her fingers closed on the piece of plastic, his hand closed on her wrist, painfully twisting it behind her back.
He grasped her by the neck violently popping her forehead into the door of the van, “Scream and I’ll break your fucking neck!” he warned, bracing her against the vehicle long enough to open the back door. He shoved her inside and followed quickly, well aware that this moment, when he didn’t have a hold on her, was the most dangerous.