Army Ranger Redemption

by Carol Ericson

  Jim widened his stance, placing his weight on his good leg. “Here I am.”

  Collins placed his hand on his service revolver. “James Kennedy, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jeff Kelly.”

  Chapter Six

  Darkness rushed in on Jim and he clenched his fists at his sides. He couldn’t be confined. He couldn’t let them take him.

  The blood raced through his veins and his heart almost pumped out of his chest. If he assaulted the officer and took off, it would be all over for him. He had to get a grip. Innocent men didn’t run.

  Scarlett’s hand closed around his, her cool touch soothing the rage within him.

  “What are you talking about, Collins? Jim was here with me last night. We discovered Rusty’s body together.”

  “Ma’am, Ms. Easton, you need to step back, please. We have a warrant for Mr. Kennedy’s arrest and I need to read him his rights.”

  She stamped her foot. “What evidence do you have? This is ridiculous.”

  Jim dragged in a deep breath. She was on his side. He could do this.

  “It’s okay, Scarlett. They’ll tell me what they have when they get me to the station. If I give you a card, can you call my buddy? He can recommend an attorney in the area for me.”

  “Jim, this is absurd. You didn’t kill anyone.”

  Her cheeks reddened as if she’d suddenly realized the falsity of that statement spoken to an army ranger sniper.

  “I mean, you didn’t kill Rusty. Tell him.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll have my opportunity.”

  Collins read him his rights and then asked if he had any weapons on him.

  “Not on me.” He tilted his head back. “My Glock’s in the pocket of my jacket, hanging on that hook.”

  Collins gestured to the other deputy and then tapped Jim on the shoulder. “Turn around.”

  Turning, Jim gritted his teeth at the sound of the cuffs jangling behind him. He had to hold everything together so the cops wouldn’t have him for resisting arrest, even though every fiber in his body was screaming at him to fight. He had to tamp down his rising rage.

  Breathe. Think. Reason.

  “Can you get my wallet out of my pocket and give it to Scarlett?”

  Collins patted him down and removed the wallet. He handed it to Scarlett.

  Jim met Scarlett’s frantic gaze with his own steady one. “There’s a card in there for Ken Stucken. Give him a call and tell him what happened. Tell him I need an attorney.”

  Scarlett’s hands shook as she rifled through his wallet. “I found it.”

  She held up the card and he nodded, giving her a half smile as Collins and the other deputy marched him away from her house, through the trees to their squad car. They couldn’t have much evidence, since he hadn’t done it, but they wouldn’t tell him anything until they got him to the station. He knew how it worked.

  Jim kept his gaze pinned to the passing scenery out the car window and took deep breaths. If he had to spend the night in jail, he had doubts he could handle it. The deputies would probably transfer him to the psych ward before the night was over, giving them even more reason to believe he’d killed Rusty.

  They took him to the sheriff’s station in town. Cody Unger wasn’t on duty when they arrived, but this wasn’t the local deputy’s rodeo, anyway.

  Jim asked, “Is Sheriff Musgrove here?”

  “Not here,” Collins said, and cleared his throat. “But we notified him of the warrant.”

  Collins nudged him in the back toward a glass-enclosed interview room. “We’re going to question you before we book you, Kennedy. You have a right to have your attorney present during questioning.”

  “I’ll waive that right for now. I’m too curious to find out what you think you have on me.”

  Collins shoved open the door and pointed to a chair. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. Let’s just get to it.”

  The other deputy set up a camera as Jim awkwardly sank to a chair, his hands still cuffed behind him.

  “Do you need to keep me handcuffed?”

  Collins took in Jim’s frame and then studied his face. “No.”

  Free of the cuffs, Jim’s heart rate returned to something close to normal. He rubbed his wrists. “Why did you arrest me? What evidence do you have?”

  The other deputy reached into a box and pulled out a plastic bag. He tossed it onto the table in front of Jim. “Recognize it?”

  Jim peeled his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth. “It’s my old man’s hunting knife.”

  “It was also used to stab Rusty Kelly.”

  “Let me guess. My fingerprints are on the knife.”

  “Your fingerprints and Rusty’s blood.”

  “That’s an incriminating combination.” Jim folded his arms across his chest and slumped in the metal chair, stretching his legs in front of him.

  Collins smoothed the crinkles from the plastic bag. “One you can explain?”

  “My fingerprints are on the knife because it was in my dad’s shed. The shed is a detached wooden structure that he used as a garage for his motorcycles. I was in there last week and moved some things around. I remember handling the knife, which was on the tool bench.”

  “That explains the fingerprints.”

  “I just discovered today that someone broke into the garage. It has double doors that lock together with a simple padlock.”

  “Did you file a report?”

  “No, but I called the station. I couldn’t tell if anything was missing, so the deputy...Stevens, asked if I wanted to make a report but I declined. Deputy Stevens—ask him.”

  Collins snapped his fingers. “Jenkins, find Deputy Stevens to verify.”

  “There’s also my alibi.”

  “Alibi?”

  “I was with Scarlett Easton when she found the body.”

  “Kelly was stabbed before you arrived at Ms. Easton’s.”

  “How much earlier before we discovered his body? I have an alibi for that, too.”

  “What’s your timeline?”

  “I ate dinner in town at the Miner’s Inn and left around eight o’clock. Used a credit card. I had trouble starting my bike, and I talked to a man named Terry while I was trying to get it to work. That was right outside the Miner’s Inn, right in front of the window, so plenty of people saw me. I didn’t leave until about eight forty-five or eight fifty. When I got to my place, I thought I heard some noises so I parked my bike and went for a walk in the woods. I got to Scarlett’s place around nine fifteen or nine twenty. She can vouch for that.”

  Collins had been eyeing Jim’s face and hands during his narrative without one interruption. Even now, he just nodded.

  Jim dragged in a breath. “So, if I stabbed Rusty, I would’ve had to do it in a short time span, getting the knife, locating him, stabbing him without getting a drop of his blood on my clothes since I wouldn’t have had time to change before going to Scarlett’s.”

  “And all this is going to check out?” Collins folded his hands on the table between them.

  “It’ll all check out.” Jim sat up in his chair and faced the camera. “Now if you want to ask me any more questions, you’ll have to wait for my attorney.”

  Jim knew he had a rock-solid alibi. That didn’t concern him. What did was the fact that someone had tried to frame him for murder—and he had a feeling it was all related to what happened to him twenty-five years ago.

  * * *

  WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Scarlett pounced on it before the call could drop off, grabbed her purse and ran outside.

  She reached the end of her drive and answered, out of breath. “Is Jim going to have to spend the night in jail? What do they have? What can I do to help?”

  Wade Lewiston,
the attorney Jim’s friend had recommended, clicked his tongue. “They haven’t even booked him, Scarlett. He’s waiting in an interview room while they check out his alibi.”

  “If they ask me, I can tell them straight out, no way could he have stabbed someone and then appeared on my doorstep without a smidgen of blood on him.”

  “From what I understand, his timeline is pretty tight. They’re not going to be able to pin this on him. He even phoned in about the garage break-in. He’s covered.”

  “D-do you need to come out?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s not answering any more questions for now. He wanted me to ask you if you can pick him up at the station when they release him.”

  “Of course I can. I’m on my way right now.”

  “You might want to wait, Scarlett. The deputies are still looking into his alibi.”

  “I’m not waiting any longer. This is ridiculous.”

  “Up to you. If Jim needs anything else, have him give me a call.”

  “How about a lawsuit? Can he sue the sheriff’s department?”

  “’Fraid not. His fingerprints were on the murder weapon, and that weapon belonged to him. The deputies had just cause to bring him in.”

  “Okay, okay.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m going there now, anyway.”

  “Good night and good luck. Call me if there’s a hitch.”

  Scarlett hit the key fob and the lights of her car blinked once. “Will do.”

  “One more thing, Scarlett.”

  “What?”

  “Just be careful.”

  “Careful?” She slid behind the wheel of her car, glancing in her rearview mirror. “Of what? Jim didn’t do it.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “There’s a murderer loose in Timberline, and for whatever reason he dumped the man near your cabin and tried to frame Jim. Be careful.”

  The hair on the back of her neck quivered. Like she needed reminding. “I’ll be careful. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly tonight.”

  “Anything for a fellow vet—especially one like Jim Kennedy.”

  Before she had a chance to ask him why Jim was so special, he ended the call.

  By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s station, her aching muscles were screaming at her. She’d made the drive clutching the steering wheel and sitting on the edge of her seat.

  She felt a particular urgency biting at her heels—something telling her that if she didn’t get Jim out tonight, he would never get out.

  She scrambled from the car and jogged to the station entrance. Deputy Stevens looked up from behind the front desk.

  “I’m here to pick up Jim Kennedy. Are you done harassing him?”

  Stevens’s mouth dropped open. “H-his fingerprints were on the murder weapon, which belonged to his father.”

  “And he had alibis about a mile long.”

  Stevens held up his hands. “This was county’s arrest. Don’t jump on me.”

  “Well, is he done?” She wedged a hand on her hip and tapped the toe of her boot.

  “I think so. They’ll bring him up when they’re ready. Deputy Collins didn’t even book him, so there’s no paperwork to process.”

  Scarlett wheeled around and paced to the other side of the room. After about fifteen minutes of handwringing and peppering Stevens with questions, she froze when she heard a door open down the hall.

  The distinctive tone of Jim’s low voice carried across the room, and Scarlett rushed to the front desk.

  Jim and Deputy Collins, deep in conversation, came down the hallway. Jim jerked his head up, his eyes widening briefly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to pick you up. I spoke to Wade Lewiston earlier this evening. He said you told him to have me pick you up.”

  “I was going to call you. Didn’t want you hanging around here.”

  “And I didn’t want you hanging around here any longer than you had to.” Her gaze shifted to Collins and she pursed her lips. “Everything straightened out?”

  Jim massaged the back of his neck. “Almost everything. I’d still like to know who stole Slick’s knife—a knife that conveniently had my fingerprints on it.”

  “We want to know the same thing.” Deputy Collins shook Jim’s hand. “We’ll keep you updated. Sorry about the mix-up.”

  “You were just doing your job.”

  “Your stuff.” Stevens pushed out of his chair and grabbed a box from a credenza. He held out the box to Jim and shook it. “We unloaded your weapon, but your license and permit checked out. You’re free to take it.”

  Jim placed the box on a desk and pocketed his wallet and keys. He shoved the gun into his jacket pocket and dumped the bullets into his palm. “Someone’s going to come out tomorrow to dust the garage for prints?”

  “Yeah, we’ll call first.”

  Jim held the door open for her and when she stepped outside, the cool air stung her hot cheeks. She rounded on Jim. “How could you be so polite? They arrested you. They handcuffed you and dragged you into the station like some dirtbag criminal.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “They had a murder weapon with my prints on it. What do you want them to do, ignore the evidence?”

  His words sounded reasonable, but his hands felt unsteady. He dropped them quickly.

  “You’re a better person than I am. I would’ve been livid. You were with me when I stumbled across the body. I wouldn’t have noticed if you’d had blood all over you? The cops showed up almost immediately after. They wouldn’t have noticed any other blood besides what you had on your hands?”

  “It’s over, Scarlett, at least this part.”

  “What does that mean and why is everyone talking in riddles tonight?”

  “I wanna know if someone tried to set me up for Rusty’s murder.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  He nudged her back. “Let’s get in the car.”

  As she grabbed the driver’s-side handle, he asked, “Are you okay after drinking that wine?”

  “Are you kidding? I barely got started on that bottle before we were rudely interrupted.” She yanked open the car door. “I plan to finish it off now.”

  On the way back to her place, Jim told her about the interview and how the deputies had tracked down his alibis.

  “I was lucky I hadn’t been sitting at home alone the night of Rusty’s murder.”

  “Maybe something drew you to my place last night for a reason.”

  “Whatever it was, it saved me a lot of trouble.”

  Turning down the road that led to her place and his, she slid a glance his way. “Do you want me to drop you off at your cabin or do you want to come back to mine and finish dinner?”

  “I thought we finished dinner.”

  “I bought a cheesecake for dessert.”

  “I lost my appetite, but I have to pick up my bike.”

  The car bumped and jostled as she drove up the access road to her cabin. She backed into the spot she’d had cleared for her car when she first bought the place and killed the engine. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? I have the card you gave me inside and your wallet.”

  “If you’re sure. It’s late.”

  “I’m still wired.” She shoved open the car door. “And I still have a bottle of wine to polish off.”

  He followed her down the path through the trees, both of them leading with the lights on their phones.

  “You should install some lights along this pathway, too. It’s like the blind leading the blind out here.”

  “I guess I’m used to it now.”

  She tripped and Jim caught her around
the waist.

  “You’re used to it, huh? Tell you what, you earned more of my services by calling my buddy and contacting that attorney, Lewiston. I’ll work on setting up some lights out here, too.”

  She’d like to earn more of his services than getting a few lights installed.

  She cleared her throat. “Do you think there’s going to be any more trouble? I was kind of hoping someone targeted Rusty specifically.”

  “I think he was the target, but I have a funny feeling about that knife. Why my knife and my fingerprints?”

  “Where’d they find it?” She opened her front door and left it open for Jim to follow her inside.

  “On the road between our two places, a runner found it. It’s probably the same location where the killer dumped Rusty.”

  “I think I’ll have that wine now.” She tossed her purse onto a chair and made a beeline for the kitchen. She uncorked the bottle she’d left on the counter and poured a healthy amount into the glass she’d used earlier.

  She raised her glass. “Are you sure you don’t want some? I have beer in the fridge, too.”

  “I’m good.” He perched on the arm of the sofa. “I saw someone else from the old life today.”

  “Who?”

  “His name’s Charles Swanson. We called him Chewy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I told the deputies about him.”

  “Do you think he might’ve had something to do with Rusty’s murder?” She took a gulp of wine and welcomed the warm feeling spreading to her chest.

  “Seems suspicious that he’s in town at the same time as Rusty and then Rusty turns up dead.”

  “If the Lords of Chaos want to knock each other off, they can have at it—as long as they do it far away from me.” She covered her mouth. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  His dark brows collided over his nose. “I’m not one of them.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean...”

  “Were you here when Gary Binder was killed in that hit-and-run?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Were you?”

  “I was here. The cops never made an arrest, and it just about destroyed his mother. She stuck with him through all the ups and downs—the drug use, the arrests—and then just when he started getting his life together, it’s snuffed out by a hit-and-run driver.”