The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal Book 1)

by Amy Cross

  “He said there were people down there,” I reply. “Even if he's crazy, do you think it's worth checking out?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But -”

  “Do you know why? Because it's been checked out before. Over and over and over. We've been on wasted trips into those goddamn tunnels in the past, and there's not a lick of a sign that anyone else has ever been in there other than kids and idiots. You're new to the job, James, so maybe you don't understand some of the conventions around Deal, but trust me. This isn't the last time you'll hear some lunatic go rambling on about monsters living in those tunnels, and you just have to learn to ignore it all. You have to learn not to go poking about.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that Mikey seemed so sure, to say that I almost believed him, but then I realize that I'll just end up sounding like a complete fool. I've already screwed up so many times tonight, it's a miracle Buddy hasn't thrown me off the job, and I need to show that I'm like the others in the office. After a moment, as if to prove that point, I glance at the window and see that several of the other deputies are looking this way, watching us through the gaps between the blinds. They quickly turn away, of course, but it's clear that they know Buddy is sounding me out.

  They all want to know if I'm one of them, or if I'm a troublemaker.

  “So are we on the same side?” Buddy asks, with a faint, expectant smile.

  “Sure,” I reply, not really believing what he just told me but figuring I can find a way to believe it later. After all, Buddy's the boss and I should try to be more like him. “I didn't mean to come in here and hide away. I'll get back out there and see what needs doing.”

  “We've got it handled,” he replies, getting to his feet. “Why don't you head home? You've got a wife, right? And a kid?”

  I nod.

  “Go home and tuck that little girl in tight,” he continues, “and then hold your wife and make sure she knows you love her. Make sure she knows you'll protect her, too. Because you will, because you're on my team and because you're only gonna get stronger and tougher from here on out. Everyone starts out like you, James, but they soon firm up.”

  “Is there any word on Gary?” I ask.

  “I'm about to give the hospital a call now and find out. Last I heard, he was in surgery.”

  He turns and heads to the door, pulling it open to reveal the cacophony of the office and all the voices making frantic phone calls.

  “Don't forget,” he adds, turning back to me. “Mikey Cane was going to kill you. That's why I shot him. Is that understood? He was a maniac, he was rambling on about nonsense, and he'd have cut your throat if I hadn't pulled that trigger when I did. Agreed?”

  I hesitate for a moment, before nodding.

  “Okay, good.” He eyes me for a moment longer. “I think you're gonna turn out just fine, James Kopperud. Why, a few years from now, when I finally hang up my hat, I reckon you might even be a candidate to take my job.”

  “I doubt that,” I reply, with a faint, nervous smile.

  “I'm a good judge of character,” he continues. “All you need to do is keep your head down, learn the ropes, and remember to just leave the forest alone. It's not our jurisdiction. Is that clear?”

  I hesitate for a moment. “Sure. I understand.”

  “Only one person ever ignored my advice on that, James, and...”

  His voice trails off for a moment.

  “Well, drink this,” he adds, taking a flask from his pocket and setting it on the table. “Just to straighten yourself up. Trust me, a little fortification never hurt anyone. And that's good whiskey. Bourbon, like it oughta be. Trust Buddy. Those are two little words you need to keep on remembering. Trust Buddy. I'll see you right.”

  With that, he heads out of the room, leaving me sitting alone. I try to focus on everything Buddy said, to remind myself that tonight was just a regular part of the job and that I need to get used to bad things happening. I even tell myself that there'll be worse nights, and that one day I'll be more like Buddy and that this kind of thing won't even get to me. That day can't come soon enough, because right now I feel like I need to toughen the hell up.

  Looking down at my belly, I try to imagine how it would have felt if the blade had cut through my guts. I try to imagine the abject, horrific pain. Deep down, I feel like I should have kept Gary from being shot. I don't know what I could have done differently, but maybe I could have noticed the threat a moment earlier and done something. Instead, I failed and now a man is fighting for his life in the hospital. In a just world, maybe the knife would have cut into me tonight.

  Even though I usually don't like to drink, and despite the fact that it's almost morning, I unscrew the flask's lid and take a swig of whiskey. And then another, and another.

  Buddy was right. It feels good.

  He was right about something else, too. Mikey Cane was out of his mind, and all that nonsense about devils and witches and whores was just pure garbage. Anyone who goes on about that kind of thing has to be completely insane. There's nothing to fear in the forest.

  Still shivering slightly, I take another swig of whiskey. I'm not sure it's good to drink quite so much, but I guess I have to remember those two magic words. Trust Buddy.

  Thirty-Five

  Sheriff James Kopperud

  Today

  “Buddy,” I call out, as soon as I step into the office, “what are you doing here?”

  He turns to me, and I can instantly see from the look in his eyes – and from the concern in the eyes of everyone else here – that something's wrong. Buddy's clearly in one of his foggy moments, and I can't help noticing that he's wearing one of the old uniforms that we replaced a few years ago. I guess he must have hung onto a few sets of shirts and pants when he finally retired.

  “You need to fill me in,” he stammers, sounding lost. “I need to be updated. Come on, get snappy with it, we don't have all day!”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, putting a hand on his arm. “Buddy, you really don't need to be here. Why don't you let me take you home?”

  “Home?”

  Great. He sounds angry, and that's always when he's at his worst.

  “Hang on,” he mutters, clearly trying to straighten everything out in his dementia-fogged mind. “You should've brought me into the loop from the start, James. I'm the boss, I have a right to know everything!”

  “Sheriff Kopperud?” Katie says cautiously. “Um -”

  “Sheriff who?” Buddy snaps, turning to her. “I remember you! I've seen you before! I'm the sheriff around here, and I'll thank you to remember that fact!”

  “Why don't you come into the interview room with me?” I say, keeping hold of his arm and steering him across the office. “I'm really sorry, Buddy, I should have spoken to you about this sooner. I hope you can forgive me, but we've just been run off our feet. I'm sure you know what that's like, don't you?”

  “Damn straight,” he mutters, as I lead him into the interview room.

  Once he's on his way over to the chair, I turn and lean back out toward Katie.

  “Call his daughter,” I whisper, “and ask if she can come and pick him up. She works down the road at the bar. Tell her he's having one of his bad days.”

  She nods, and I quickly turn and head back into the room. Once the door is shut, I make my way around the table and take a seat. Already, Buddy seems agitated in the chair opposite, and I can tell that he's fixing to get up and go back out to cause trouble in the office again. At times like this, it's honestly so difficult to believe that ten years ago he was the tough-talking, no-nonsense sheriff of Deal, and that now he's a confused old man who sometimes can barely even remember his own name.

  “Now what's this about the forest?” he stammers finally. “I heard someone talking about a girl.”

  “We're investigating a murder,” I tell him.

  “Who's the victim?”

  “Leanne Halperin.”

  “Leanne?” He stares at
me, as if he can't quite believe the news. “Is that Chris's sister?”

  “It's Chris's daughter, Buddy.”

  “How can Chris Halperin have a daughter? He's not old enough to...”

  His voice trails off for a moment, and it's clear that he's lost in another cloud of confusion.

  “Fine,” he mutters. “Sure. Whatever. Well, what happened to her? How did she die?”

  “When we found her body,” I reply, “she'd already been dismembered. We don't know why, but so far it seems that all the parts are accounted for. Whatever the killer wanted, he doesn't seem to have taken any kind of trophies, at least not as far as we can tell.”

  “You know who you oughta talk to?” he asks.

  “Who's that, Buddy?”

  “I reckon I know who killed her.”

  “Who?”

  “That boy up at the farm. What's his name, again? Mikey! Mikey Cane!”

  “Buddy -”

  “Trust Buddy!” he says firmly, before winking at me. “Remember how I told you that before? Always trust Buddy.”

  “Sure, but -”

  “Mikey Cane's the killer!”

  “Mikey Cane is dead, Buddy,” I reply. “Mikey died ten years ago. Don't you remember?”

  He stares at me, although his head is wobbling slightly.

  “Don't you remember that night in the forest?” I continue. “You saved my life, Buddy. Mikey Cane had me down, he had a knife, and then you came along and you saved me by shooting him.”

  “I did?”

  “You did.”

  “Well...”

  Again, he seems completely lost and confused.

  “If Leanne's in trouble,” he continues finally, “then maybe you oughta check on Ramsey, too.”

  “So now you remember, huh?” I reply, with a faint smile. “That's right, Buddy. Leanne and Ramsey were friends.”

  “So is Ramsey safe?”

  “Ramsey's safe.”

  “Is she at home?”

  “She's at home a long way away,” I tell him. “She's eighteen now. Leanne was eighteen too.”

  “What?” He furrows his brow, as if he's shocked by the news. “Little Leanne? Eighteen? No, you must be mistaken! She's just a little girl!”

  “A moment ago, you didn't remember her at all.”

  “I don't know what kind of game you're playing,” he continues, getting to his feet, “but you're wasting my time! I'm sheriff of this town, and that means I have to take charge and tell the others what to do! You're trying to take my job from me, aren't you? You're trying to push me out, but it won't work! Everybody here respects me, they all know I'm the boss!”

  Getting to my feet, I hurry around the table to help him, but he pushes me away. He's so unsteady on his feet, however, that I follow him toward the door, ready to catch him in case he falls at any moment.

  “Those things under the forest are dangerous,” he stammers. “We should never have just let them be. Do you understand? People don't believe they're real, and that's just how they like it, because it means they can get on with their business and nobody disturbs them.”

  “You don't believe in the stories about the forest,” I remind him. “You never did, Buddy.”

  “Only a fool would ignore the warnings,” he adds, opening the door. “Mikey and Liam won't be the last, you know. There'll be others, and it won't stop until those things get exactly what they want, and then God help us all because it'll be too late for us to do anything. You can put any kind of markers on your hand that you want, but they won't protect you, not if you're one of the ones who's really supposed to be seen. That's what they say about the whore, you know. They say she'll be seen no matter what, and she's all they're waiting for.”

  “If the old you could hear this now,” I mutter under my breath, “he'd have a goddamn heart attack.”

  “Check on Ramsey!” he hisses suddenly, turning to me with fear in his bloodshot, watery eyes. “Promise me, James! Call Ramsey and make sure she's okay!”

  “Sure,” I reply, figuring I should humor him. “Buddy -”

  “Promise me!” he gasps, grabbing my arm and leaning closer. “Don't treat me like some kind of dumb old fool! Promise me you'll call and check on Ramsey! You have to find her, James! She's hurt and she won't make it on her own! She fell!”

  “Buddy, listen...”

  “She fell!” he says firmly. “The other one found her. That's the only reason she's made it as far as she did, but she's still in danger!”

  Before I can even begin to tell him that he's got his wires crossed, I spot Harry hurrying through the main door. She looks worried, and I don't blame her. She's been single-handedly looking after her father ever since the dementia hit and he was forced to retire from the station, and lately she's had to rush out at least once a week after finding that he's wandered away from his spot on the porch. She won't admit it, not ever, but she knows he's getting worse. I see it in her eyes.

  “Hey Dad,” she says as she comes over to join us. “What are you doing here?”

  “I'm at work,” he splutters, still sounding very confused. “Why won't you leave me alone?”

  “I'm so sorry,” she continues, turning to me. “He seemed fine when I left for work this morning, I never thought it might turn out to be one of his bad days.”

  “Don't worry about it,” I reply, as Buddy turns and looks around the office, clearly lost. “Hey, Buddy, why don't we get you outside? I really don't think there's much for you to be doing in here.”

  “I'm surprised to see you back at work already,” Harry tells me, as we lead her father toward the door, watched by everyone else in the office. “At the hospital, I got the impression they were planning to keep you in for a while.”

  “That was nothing,” I mutter.

  “But -”

  “Honestly, it's nothing,” I add, spotting Hinch and Lewis nearby. The last thing I want is for them to suspect that anything's wrong, or to overhear any mention of my hospital visit. “Just the stomach bug version of man flu, I guess.”

  She doesn't push the subject, but I can tell she's not entirely convinced.

  “Where are we going?” Buddy asks as we get him outside. He tries to turn and go back into the station, but fortunately Harry and I manage to take an arm each and lead him gently but firmly toward the parking lot. “I need to help the others,” he continues. “They won't get very far without me. I know they try their best, but they need leadership.”

  “I'll do my best,” I tell him.

  “James is the sheriff now,” Harry adds. “You remember that, Dad, don't you? You retired and James took over. You recommended him. You said he'd be the perfect person.”

  “Did I?”

  “It was all your idea.” She unlocks her car and pulls the door open. “You were right, too. James is doing a great job, but he needs to be left alone so he can get on with things. Dad, if you go back into the station, you could make it more difficult for everyone to do their jobs. It'd be better if you head home for the day, and then maybe tomorrow you can think about offering your help again.”

  “I guess,” he mutters, as he climbs into the back of the car.

  “Hopefully tomorrow'll be a better day for him,” Harry mutters to me, but I can see the concern in her eyes as she swings the door shut. “He still has good days occasionally. Sometimes, he's surprisingly clear.”

  “And you're sure you're okay having him still at home with you?” I ask.

  “Of course. Don't even suggest anything else.”

  “But -”

  “He's staying at home!” she says firmly. “There's no debate on that. I'm not putting my father in some kind of nursing home so he can waste away!”

  With that, she turns and heads around to get into the driver's seat, and I take a step back. I know better than to push Harry, and I know that she's determined to keep Buddy at home for as long as possible. Still, it must be difficult dealing with him, especially when he seems to get different periods of tim
e all mixed up. Cause and effect are a little muddled in his mind, and he's slowly getting worse and worse.

  As the car pulls away, I take my phone from my pocket and bring up Ramsey's number. Well, at least it's the number that belonged to Ramsey a few years ago, back when she got her first phone, but I have no idea whether she still uses it today. I want to call her, or at least send a message, after those strange things that Buddy said. I quickly realize, however, that I can't contact her out of the blue. I doubt I'm someone she wants to hear from right now. Or ever.

  Figuring that I need to focus on the task at hand, I slip my phone away and head back into the station.

  Thirty-Six

  Deputy James Kopperud

  10 years ago

  “Oh Jesus!” Emma whispers, with tears in her eyes. “Oh God! Poor Cathy! Does she know?”

  “Buddy went over to tell her,” I reply, feeling strangely numb. “He only found out just before I left. I can't imagine...”

  My voice trails off. I honestly don't know how Buddy can go to a woman's front door and tell her that her husband has been killed in the line of duty. Emma and I have been over to have dinner with Gary and Cathy several times over the past few years, and I can't help replaying Gary's final moments over and over in my mind. There was so much blood by the time the ambulance crew arrived, glistening dark red against the fabric of his uniform, and I stood and watched as they checked his pulse and loaded him into the ambulance.

  Now he's gone.

  “I heard it,” I stammer. “I felt it.”

  “Heard what?” Emma asks, stepping closer and placing her hands on my shoulders. “James, come and sit down. You look like you're about to faint.”

  “The bullet,” I tell her, flinching slightly as I remember the very faint whistling sound I heard in the split second before Gary dropped to the floor. “I think I heard it, anyway. I think I even felt it. It went straight past me, maybe an inch or less from...”