Traces of Guilt

by Dee Henderson

  Ann pushed back her plate. “Thanks for a great meal, Josh. I could spend hours sitting here enjoying the view, although the lake from the air is going to look spectacular too. I’m sorry the flight might disrupt the eagles.”

  “Not much bothers them. I’m glad you came by. And I deeply appreciate the news about Grace.” Josh set their dishes inside, grabbed his phone and keys, and walked Ann down the path to the bait shop and her rental.

  “Looks like you’ve got steady customers,” she noted, eyeing several vehicles besides hers in the parking area. “You must be pleased with the business.”

  “I am. It helps that I’ve got a captive market, and fishing has been the best on the lake in years.” He held the car door for her. “Drive careful. Fly even more careful.”

  “Always.” She waved goodbye and pulled out of the lot. Josh pushed his hands into his jeans pockets, considered going back to unload his boat or joining his two employees at the bait shop, and instead turned and walked back toward home. He wanted to sit for a while, simply think . . . remember.

  Grace Arnett is coming back. He settled on his front porch, still watching the eagles, a cold soda in his hand. Ann couldn’t have rocked his world harder than she just did. He felt relieved, edging toward overjoyed. And at the same time he was wary about what had Ann so worried. She’d handled scores of homicide cases. She didn’t get nervous; she sized up the problem and dealt with matters. What is the favor Grace wants? He’d no doubt spend a couple of days wondering until she showed up and asked him.

  He made one decision in advance. Whatever the favor was, he’d handle with care in how he reacted, and he’d say yes if there was any way he could do it. It wasn’t often a guy got to go back to the best days of his youth. Grace Arnett. Josh smiled, shook his head. He probably still had a school notebook or two tucked away with her name and his encircled by a heart. If she was inclined to take a trip down memory lane, he had some nice ones. The innocence of first love didn’t get more beautiful than Grace. It was saying something that no girl since had come even close.

  TWO

  Gabriel Thane

  Gabriel Thane liked being sheriff, but there were days he wished he wasn’t tethered to the phone and the job. Last night’s date had ended abruptly so he could go break up a bar fight. And now, a Saturday, his grass had to be mowed and gutters cleared before the rain came in, yet he wasn’t making much headway. He killed the mower as his cellphone rang yet again, tugged out his phone, and tried to sound polite as he said, “Sheriff Thane.”

  “Got yourself a problem, Son, out on County Road 62 near the old bridge. Lady hit herself a deer. Only she isn’t here at the wreck. I’ve got a blood trail that seems to indicate she’s walking toward town.”

  “How bad is it, Dad?” He left the mower mid-strip in the backyard, headed to the garage, the phone tucked against his shoulder. He grabbed the red medical backpack and a blue one of general supplies out of the old refrigerator, and a jacket from the mudroom.

  “Big buck came through the windshield,” his father was saying, “airbags deployed, she put the car into a tree. Found her busted phone on the passenger side floorboard, along with a spilled purse. That’s how come I know it’s a she. Driver’s license reads Evie Blackwell, thirty-six, a Springfield address.”

  “I’ll head that way from here. Call the Tanners, Delaines, see if she knocked on a door.”

  “Those are the next calls. Bring your med kit. The blood already feels tacky. An hour ago, I’m thinking.”

  Gabe clicked off, headed to his sheriff-issue truck, tossed the gear in, reversed out of the drive, and turned north.

  His street became County Road 62, and the bridge his dad mentioned was within half a mile of the turnoff to his brother Josh’s place. Had she walked north rather than toward town, she would have had help within minutes. She was looking at six miles of asphalt road and not much traffic since the new bridge and highway extension had been completed. Now he felt irritated with himself for being irritated at the interruptions. This was the job, and he liked to think he was as good at being sheriff as his father had been before him.

  He gave it a couple minutes and hit redial. “Anything, Dad?”

  “No one’s seen her. They’ll walk down their lanes to the road.”

  “Not good. She passes Delaine’s, there’s nothing until town.” He turned on his flashers, added speed to close the distance to the crash. “Describe the blood trail.”

  “I’m thinking she’s got pressure on a pretty serious cut. I’ve got multiple drops with every pace. She’s walking reasonably straight, no weave to her steps, heading south to town.”

  “An hour, she could be at two miles or four.” Gabe thought she’d probably sat down, woozy from the impact and the walking, putting her somewhere on the side of this road, hopefully still conscious.

  “I’m now driving south,” his father said. “Aaron’s coming out to haul in the vehicle, and Henry’s going to deal with the buck.”

  “Good.” He caught the turn and shifted rapidly to brakes. He said into the phone, “Found her, Dad! Just east of Kimble’s land. It looks like a pint of blood dumped down her front. I’ll need your help here. She’s got dogs. Two of them.”

  The German shepherds, both anxious, were pacing around her as she took each unsteady step. Five-foot-three, short brown hair, charcoal dress slacks and matching casual jacket, a red blouse, bloodstains now a much darker red. A holstered handgun on her right hip, just visible under the jacket.

  She looked as startled to see his truck as he was to see her. He quickly pulled to the side of the road, out of the way of any traffic in the turn but angled out some to protect her—the shoulder here wasn’t that wide. He stepped out, but wary of the dogs, not walking forward. “Ma’am. We’ve been looking for you. It looks like you need some help.”

  “I don’t hunt deer. I think it’s nature’s joke that I take one out that size at the start of my vacation.”

  He let himself smile a bit. “Yes, ma’am. I’m told he was huge.” He reached for the backpacks, the jacket, moving slow because the dogs were now standing between him and her. “The reason you are armed, ma’am?”

  “Illinois State Police. Evie Blackwell. My badge is in my pocket . . . I think, maybe.” She tried to concentrate. “Yeah, jacket pocket. I need to sit down.” She did so where she was, and the two dogs whined and crowded her.

  “Want to tell your dogs to relax for me? I’ve got a first-aid kit. I need them to let me near.”

  “You look familiar. You’re somebody I’m supposed to know. Boy, I have one nice-size headache.”

  “Reassure the dogs, Evie.”

  She said something, and the two dogs both dropped to a watching rest, their attention on him. He wondered how hurt the dogs might be. Likely in the backseat of the car, they would have been flung around during the crash. He wished Will was here right now. His brother wasn’t a vet, but he knew enough animal husbandry that the town vet often called him when the creature needing treatment was wild. Will was good with anxious animals.

  “Anything else hurting besides the headache?” Gabriel carried the backpacks and jacket over with him.

  “Everything, but nothing feels serious.”

  She shook her head at his offer of the warmer jacket, then quickly lifted her hand to her forehead at the pain of the movement. He opened a water bottle from the supply pack, handed it to her, opened another, then dumped out the case holding flares to use as a drinking bowl for the dogs. Between them, the dogs drank down two more water bottles.

  The blood had done a good job of dripping down the shirt. Gabriel studied the hand towel she was pressing against the side of her face. He wanted his dad here before he moved it. If the towel stuck on drying blood and she cried out, the dogs were liable to snap at him—or worse. He listened for his dad’s truck with its distinctive old motor.

  “You’re on vacation, Evie?” he asked, trying to get her to focus on him so he could see her eyes. The idea of
getting her back on her feet before help arrived struck him as a bad idea in case she passed out. The dogs would be a very serious issue then.

  “A working vacation.” Her brows furrowed and she straightened a bit. “You’re Sheriff Thane.”

  “Yes.”

  “Ann said to find you.”

  “Ann?”

  “Falcon.”

  “You know Ann and Paul Falcon?”

  “Yes. Sorry.” She pressed her hand again to her head. “This headache is like eating ice cream fast, times a zillion.” She turned her face upward to see him. “A case. We’re working a case in Carin County. Two.” She was mildly slurring her words as she said, “She’d better tell you. I’m fumbling.”

  “You’re doing fine.” She had startlingly green eyes, still focusing, if rather damp with earlier tears. He heard his father’s truck. “When the doc stitches that cut, they’ll also give you something for the headache.”

  Her eyes filled with a touch of panic. “This is like the vacation from hell.”

  Oh, he could sympathize. “We’ll do what we can to turn that around so it ends nicer. Think your dogs will go with my father?”

  She hadn’t noticed the truck, but the dogs had. His dad parked on the opposite side of the road, stepped out, and Will pulled in right behind him. Both dogs surged to their feet, and the men wisely stopped where they were.

  Will crouched down where he was, studied the animals. “Evie, what’re their names?”

  “Apollo. Zeus.”

  “War dogs?”

  She gave a little nod, looking surprised.

  He whistled softly, and both dogs whined in reply.

  “Tell them to relax, Evie,” Gabriel instructed. The smell of blood obviously had them knowing they needed to defend her, but they were anxious about how. She spoke to both, the words sounding foreign to his ears, and the dogs dropped down once more into a watching rest.

  Will, a retired combat medic, should be the one dealing with this cut, but calming and checking out the dogs was also his domain. Gabriel wanted a look at the cut to know what they were dealing with, and then he’d get her to his truck and the doctor, see that it was properly stitched.

  He waited until the dogs had accepted Will’s presence and allowed him to carefully look them over for injuries, then turned back to Evie with some wet paper towels. “Ease off the towel, Evie, and let me see.”

  He didn’t allow what he discovered show in his face. He carefully used the damp towels to soak away the crusted blood around the long gash by her eye. She blinked fast as it stung, pulled in a breath. He knew it was painful, and fresh blood began to trickle.

  She’d needed stitches an hour ago, but the gash was clotting over, and he could butterfly it closed. He got it clean, then used gauze and pressure, a hand behind her head to brace her as he stopped the last of the bleeding. She didn’t resist, but she held her breath against the pain.

  She did have rather distinctive green eyes, now wet with more tears. He pulled the cut closed with thin butterfly bandages, opened fresh gauze, placed it over the wound, took her hand and instructed her to hold the bandage against her head while he tore tape strips. She pulled in an easier breath, no doubt relieved he was about done. “This will hold until the doctor can do a proper job.”

  She tipped her head back to look at his father. “You look like him.”

  “Caleb Thane, ma’am,” the man said, hunkering down in front of her. “Father of these two.”

  “I know your name also . . . I think. I have a question for you about . . . Oh, brother, I can’t remember right now.”

  “I suspect that headache makes a lot of things hard to remember,” Caleb reassured her.

  “My dogs?”

  “Will is going to take good care of them,” Caleb promised.

  “Evie, were the dogs trained in Dutch?” Will asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. I’ll get them settled for you.” Will walked toward his truck and called the dogs. They whined and looked at Evie, who rubbed fur, stroked ears, reassured them, and then gave them an encouraging command to go. They left her, reluctantly looking back as they trotted over to Will. He opened the back passenger door on his extended cab truck, and the dogs jumped in with ease.

  Gabriel thought this was the best he would get for now—the dogs calm, Evie patched together. “I want you to stand, Evie,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Let’s walk over to my truck.” She nodded. His father helped from the other side, and they lifted her up. She blanched.

  “Easy!” Gabriel got a chest full of bloody shirt and weaving woman.

  “Back stiffened up,” she managed to say. Her hand curled tight into his shirt. “Ouch!”

  “Walk it off. We’ll help.” Ten steps and he could put her into his truck, get her settled.

  She gingerly stepped forward, her hand began to relax its grip, took another step, nodded, and they walked slowly to his truck. Gabriel removed her firearm, passed it to his father, then lifted her onto the passenger seat, used his jacket to cover her, pulled the seat belt across. He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. A lousy opening day for a vacation. He wasn’t going to let it end that way. “Dad, the crash scene, can you make sure anything personal is recovered before her car gets hauled in?”

  Caleb nodded as he handed back the holstered firearm, and Gabriel tucked it behind her seat. “Will do, Son. Clinic or the hospital?”

  “Hospital. She’s got a nice concussion under that headache.”

  “I suspect you’re right. I’ll see you there. Drive slow.”

  Gabriel climbed into the cab, looked over at Evie. Her eyes were closed, the bruising and swelling around the gauze distinct. He started the truck, reached over and killed the radio, made a three-point turn, and headed back into town.

  “I smell of sweat and blood,” she said.

  He smiled at the soft complaint. “After the doctor, there’s a hot shower in your future.”

  “Excellent.” She was quiet a moment. “I probably shouldn’t have left the crash site, stayed with the car—”

  “Actually, I would have done the same thing. Not much traffic, houses a ways off. Walking didn’t help your wound, but we’ll have you fixed up soon.”

  She lapsed into silence. He made himself relax.

  “The Florist family . . .” she said quietly. “That’s what I wanted to ask your dad about.”

  Just the mention of the case caused his muscles to tighten. “I know it. A deputy disappears, his wife and eleven-year-old son—it’s never gone inactive.”

  She carefully turned her head his way. “I remember now. I’ve got two weeks’ vacation, plus weekends on either end, so sixteen days, enough time to see what might be there. Ann’s going to help me.”

  Evie’s here to look at an unsolved case? Ann Falcon’s coming down to help her? It raised a lot of questions. Gabriel looked over, met her gaze. Not so clear and focused now. “Evie? Hey, look at me.” Her eyes cleared some. “We’ll talk about work after the doctor is done. Where are you staying? Did you check into a hotel?”

  “Umm, rented a house.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  She looked confused. “I don’t . . . I’m not sure.”

  “Will Ann know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Close your eyes. Just let the next hour or two pass. It’s going to get better.”

  “Promise?”

  He didn’t think it could get much worse. “I can promise that.”

  Gabriel walked through the rather large ER in their small-town hospital. Carin County, with its major lake surrounded by state parks and private campgrounds, had an economy built mostly around vacationers and tourists, with family farms spread across the rest of the county, interspersed among a dozen more small towns and villages. This hospital was the center of the area’s medical care. Severe sunburns, bad sprains, broken bones, asthma attacks, beestings, poison ivy, the occasional heart attack, all kept this place hopping during the
summer months, and farm accidents added intense adrenaline spikes year-round. The most serious injuries were airlifted to the regional trauma center in the state’s capital, Springfield, yet the majority of patients were treated right here.

  He stepped around the ER curtain for number sixteen. Evie’s eyes opened, and she looked his direction, nearly focused this time. “You’re looking more awake,” Gabriel commented, pleased.

  “What did they give me?” she asked.

  “Tylenol with codeine. Your body just needed some rapid rest, and out you went as soon as it got an excuse.”

  She lifted a hand briefly to the bandage. “How many . . . ?” Her voice drifted off.

  “Twelve stitches.” He’d answered that a couple of times already, but he thought this time she’d probably remember. “Getting hungry?”

  “Want out of here.”

  “Another hour after the doctor comes by, he’ll spring you,” he reassured.

  “Hey, Evie” came from the other side of the bed.

  She turned her head. “Ann . . . how long have you been sitting there?”

  Ann simply smiled. “I saw a photo of the deer.”

  “Yeah. A shame. What a way for him to go and for me to begin a vacation.” Her voice became more animated. “Pretty scenery, heavy trees, some sunlight filtering through, a glimpse, and then wham”—she struck the mattress to illustrate—“he comes right across the hood and smashes into the windshield. Huge buck. The car collided with some trees, and I about killed my dogs. Tossed them forward like tumbling socks in a dryer.” She looked at Gabriel. “How are they?”

  Each of Evie’s reports was getting more detailed as her brain became clearer. She hadn’t mentioned the sunlight coming through the trees before or provided the sound effects. A few hours, the doctor assured them, and most of the impact symptoms would pass.

  Gabriel pulled out his phone, scrolled to a picture, turned it toward Evie. “That would be my brother Will’s porch they are guarding so faithfully, along with two of his lambs. Maybe their sheepherding genes? He fed the dogs the steak I was supposed to be sharing with him for dinner, so they’re being nicely pampered.”