Almost Home

by Caroline Clemmons

  Spencer County was a different country—almost another world—than Dallas. This first night on his new job as deputy sheriff bordered on dull until the call to Virgil Lee’s home. Until then, he’d investigated a home vandalized while owners were out of town, kids bashing mail boxes, petty stuff. For a second, Link had almost found himself wishing someone would commit a serious crime.

  Almost.

  Not that dull was a bad thing for police work, but his experience as a former homicide detective seemed wasted. During his tenure with the Dallas Police Department, he’d earned the respect of his peers as well as commendations from his superiors. After shooting up the ranks in Dallas PD, he hated being at the bottom in the Spencer County Sheriff’s Office.

  And the salary here in this small, sparsely populated West Texas county wouldn't even meet his current expenses. His late wife’s minimal life insurance helped. His grandmother, Nana Akridge, left him a small inheritance when she willed him her home. Invested, those monies yielded a small monthly dividend. Otherwise, he could never have afforded the upkeep on the massive old house. What a money pit, but he loved it.

  If this move helped his solemn son, it would all be worthwhile. He’d do anything to see Jason laughing and happy. Thinking of his son, his cynicism evaporated, leaving only fatigue in its wake. He turned into the driveway of Akridge House, home now for Link and Jason. A pleasant distant cousin, Maggie Sparkman, worked as their live-in housekeeper.

  Link was never so weary that he couldn’t appreciate the regal picture his beloved grandmother’s family home presented. He passed the Texas historic marker designating this as the former home of a nineteenth century Texas governor. Driving slowly, he drove between old Live Oak trees lining each side of the gently curving drive.

  He caught the full impact of the old home. Bathed in the luminous rays of the full moon, the large Victorian house stood at the top of a small hill. Moonlight accented the castle-like appearance and concealed the many defects of unattended age. With weeds less noticeable at night, the grounds resembled a park.

  Link pulled his Jeep Cherokee to a stop and crawled out. For a few minutes he paused beside his car and gazed at his home. In spite of the downgrade in his job status, being here brought him fulfillment. He’d loved the place for as long as he could remember and it held only happy memories. The sight always made his heart a little lighter.

  Moonlight illuminated the porch glider swing and Nana A’s rattan Victorian settee and chair. The bright green ferns his sisters had given him looked almost black tonight. Shadows from tall shrubs hid the long wrap-around porch’s other end.

  A movement to his right caught Link’s attention. Two figures stepped from behind a large Lebanon cedar. Link drew his gun in a crouch, keeping the Jeep between him and the visitors. The two stepped into the light, hands raised. He recognized one of the men and relaxed. He and DEA agent Richard Travis had worked on a drug task force in Dallas.

  “You crazy, Travis?” Link slid his gun back into its holster as the men lowered their arms. “You could get killed sneaking up on a man in the middle of the night.”

  “Knew you wouldn’t shoot without asking us to identify ourselves,” Travis spoke softly. “Been a while since we did business in the dark, hasn’t it?” He stuck out his hand.

  Link shook it and followed the other man’s cue by softening his voice. “That it has. Come on inside. Might as well be comfortable while we talk about why you’re here.”

  Travis gestured to the porch swing. “This is fine. Better we don’t wake your housekeeper. Let’s sit here on the porch. Nice place you have.”

  “Thanks. Inherited it, but I guess you know that since you know I have a housekeeper and that her room is at the back of the house.” Link asked, “Didn’t see your car.”

  “Around the corner in some brush.” Travis chuckled. “We were never here. Got it?”

  “Sure.” Link walked toward the chair.

  Before he could sit, the second man extended his hand. “Doug Evans. FBI.” His voice carried the melodious accent of the Deep South. He was dressed like Travis, dark suit and white shirt. But Evans’ tie was striped, rather than the dark solid preferred by most Feds. A rebel.

  “Well, this is like old times.” Link eased onto the chair. “Okay, Travis, why all this secrecy?”

  Travis walked toward the swing. “Have some business to discuss with you.”

  Evans broke in. “Knowin’ we tracked you down and waited here for you to get home may give you an idea of the seriousness of our situation. We need your help.”

  “Since you’re here, you obviously know I just started as a deputy today.”

  Travis said, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve come. Sure was sorry to learn about your wife’s death. Hard on you and your boy.”

  Link agreed, hard in ways he didn’t care to discuss. “That it was. But we’re here now, and making a stab at a good life for my son.” All he had to do was focus on Jason and they’d both be all right.

  Travis nodded his understanding, but continued, “We’ve worked a situation for most of the past year. Drugs entering the United States through four South Texas counties.”

  Link folded his arms across his chest. What did he look like, a rookie? “Been a few years, but no one needs to brief me on drug traffic.”

  Travis held up a placating hand. “I know, you were one of the best undercover men we’ve ever had.”

  “Wonderin’ what all this has to do with you and your move to West Texas and Spencer County, right? ‘Specially with Travis talkin’ about South Texas?” Evans picked up the settee and set it opposite Link.

  Then he continued, “We’ve been workin’ with the your sheriff’s office ‘bout six months now. Large part of the drug traffic seems to be right here. We’re talkin’ larger per capita than Dallas or Fort Worth.”

  The news forced Link back in his seat like a blow. No, not MY County. When had this happened? Cartersville and Spencer County were Link’s haven from a world gone crazy. The promised land.

  Taking a slow breath, he forced himself to focus on the two men. Neither seemed aware of Link’s distress at their news. Their intrusion into his new life.

  Sitting on the porch swing, Travis added, “Right. We’ve had two men working here. A week ago, one of them turned up in a field with his throat cut. He’d been worked over before someone finished him off.” He shrugged. “No way of knowing how much he told. Our last communication from him said he thought he’d broken the case.”

  “Instead, he found death,” Link finished, his hand toying with the turquoise insets of his watchband. “How’d you keep that out of the papers? Surprised you Feds aren’t swarming all over the area.”

  Travis said, “Far as the public knows, an unidentified man was found murdered. A reporter assumed it was a drug related killing done in the Metroplex and the body just happened to be dumped here. We encouraged that opinion.”

  Evans added, “We’re holding off our teams for a chance to get the head man of what’s going down in this county.”

  Link looked from one man to the other. The moonlight was as strong as a streetlight, but they were backlighted and he couldn’t see their expressions clearly.

  “What about the second man you said was here?” he asked.

  Evans spoke slowly, “He’s still in place. No one knows he’s workin’ with us. No one but Travis knows who he is. A few people in the sheriff’s office knew about the man who died.”

  Link shifted forward in his chair. “You’re saying you think there’s a leak in the sheriff’s office?”

  “Possibly,” Travis said. “Of course, it could be our man—Jenkins was his name—just got a little careless.”

  From Travis’ tone, Link knew he doubted Jenkins was to blame. So, they suspected corruption from within the department. First, drugs in his beloved hometown. Now, they were telling him some of his new coworkers were dirty cops.

  “You already knew the sheriff here?” Evans asked.

 
Link shrugged, keeping his voice neutral. “Gary Don and I were in high school together.”

  Travis asked, “Friends?”

  “Hardly. Acquaintances. Football was his game, basketball mine. Hadn't seen him in years until I hit him up for a job.” Link didn’t add he could have gone a lifetime without seeing the lazy son of a bitch.

  Travis leaned forward. “What’s your take on him?”

  Did they suspect Gary Don? “Definitely not a mental giant. Like a lot of other small town good old boys, he peaked his senior year in high school. For the rest of his life, he’ll coast on his high school football record.”

  He paused long enough to mull over what he knew about Gary Don. Link fought his personal dislike of the man to be objective. “He’s no prize, that’s for sure, but I’d be surprised if he’s involved in anything like you’re talking about. Too much effort to set up. Too much planning.”

  “But that’s where we need your help,” Evans said.

  Link understood and tried to control his enthusiasm. “You want me to replace the dead man? Start a new job as a Federal mole?”

  “Yes,” Travis said. “That is, if you’re willing to take this on.”

  Evans leaned forward. “You’d report directly to Travis. Only to him, and no one in the sheriff’s office will know you’re workin’ with us.” He scooted closer so their knees were almost touching. “We know you’re good at this, Dixon. We need you.”

  Link asked, “Why me? Either of you have men in your agency trained for this kind of work. Why not one of them?”

  Evans leaned back and tapped his fingers on the arm of the settee. “We need someone who knows the turf. A local boy who can look around without raising questions.” He paused. “We’ve lost one man, can’t afford to lose another. Don’t let us down, Dixon.”

  Fighting the impulse to jump back into their game, Link gathered words. His son’s face flashed in front of him. Jason still had nightmares almost every night.

  “Can’t do it. The time away from Jason to take on this extra duty would mean we’d hardly see each other, especially if it drags on after school starts.”

  “That’s the beauty of the job. You’d stay right here and work on your own, Lone Ranger style.” Travis chuckled at his reference to the fact that Link preferred to work alone. That had been the only criticism he’d ever received from his superiors in Dallas.

  “But what about the potential threat to Jason? Every officer knows he never really leaves work. There’s always the risk that some scum I arrested would decide to take vengeance against me—even if it included harming my son. In a small town, we’d be easy to locate.”

  He paused. “That was one of the attractions of moving here. Slower pace. Few serious crimes—or criminals. At least that’s what I thought. And now you want me to work with the most dangerous of the scum.”

  Evans tapped Link’s knee. “You’re the man we need.”

  “You know I’d jump at the chance to help you under different circumstances.”

  The words sounded more emphatic than he intended, but he couldn’t give in to his inclination. He loved fighting real crime instead of this mundane work he’d been assigned by Gary Don. But Jason deserved a normal life.

  “I hate drugs as much as either of you, and I hate cop killers more. But I won’t take on anything like this. Not now.”

  The men remained silent, but he sensed their reproach. “Look, I have a six-year-old son who lost his mother only three months ago. He needs me. And right now, that means all the time and attention I can give him. Not a father away from home on an undercover job that could cause him to wind up dead. You’ll have to get someone else.”

  Evans leaned forward again. “We appreciate this is a difficult time for you and your son—“

  Travis stood and interrupted, “Damnitall, man, think! What kind of home do you plan to make for your boy? A drug ring based in Spencer County, for crissakes. What kind of home is that for your kid? And hell, if the sheriff’s department is dirty, what makes you think you can stay out of it?”

  The logic of Travis’ words glued Link to his chair. Travis knew which buttons to push.

  He heard the “gotcha” in Evans voice. “That’s true, Dixon. And you’re our best hope. We need your expertise on this. Man, it’s your duty to assist us.”

  Link considered his options. He had to do it. “Don’t want Jason or my family living in a rotten town. Don’t want to work with dirty cops. Don’t have much choice, do I?”

  But when had Mayberry become America’s Most Wanted?

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I have been out of touch with the place for a few years. I’ve a lot of family here. Probably related to half the county. You’d think one of them would have said something. I thought Cartersville was still a great place to live.”

  Evans relaxed against the settee, one arm along the back. “Reckon it is, for the most part. Small town and all. Matter of fact, I’ve been thinkin’ of movin’ here myself. Probably a real wholesome spot to raise a kid, that is, if it wasn’t for these drugs moving through.”

  “Well, hell, I’d say that’s a pretty big problem.” He looked from one Fed to the other. “Hell, looks as if I don’t have a choice. I’m your man.”

  Chapter Three

  Limping slightly from Virgil Lee's kick, Link dragged himself into the house. Walking like a man far older than his thirty-three years, he climbed the spiral stairs to the second floor. At the top landing, he carefully probed his aching jaw—another pain courtesy of Virgil Lee.

  Link walked across the ballroom and stopped near a small musical ensemble stage at the far end. In his great-grandparents' time, wealthy and famous people attended fancy balls here. During Link’s lifetime, the room had served as a large family room.

  The muted glow of a small table lamp disappeared into shadowy corners. At first the three mounded sleeping bags scattered on the floor made no sense. Then he remembered. Jason had invited three of his cousins for a sleep over in celebration of his seventh birthday tomorrow. Link checked the luminous dial of his watch. No, today.

  Maggie probably deserved hazard pay for tonight. From the number of toys littering the room, the party had been a major success. He scooped the lone remaining slice of pizza from a carton on the game table. Wincing when he opened his battered mouth, he took a tentative bite.

  Link carefully munched leftover pizza and watched the four sleeping boys. He found his son and walked quietly to stand beside him. Whether from exhaustion or the security of numbers, his son slept soundly. After a moment, Jason rolled over but did not wake. Apparently, there would be no screaming nightmares tonight, nightmares that began with the death of Link’s wife four months ago. Nightmares that hadn’t stopped no matter what Link tried.

  Seeing his son sleeping soundly thanks to his cousins nearby made any sacrifice worthwhile. The creaking hardwood floor didn’t wake the boys. Link went into his room and sat on the side of his bed to remove his black western boots. A long sigh of relief escaped his lips—he was home and could relax.

  He finished undressing and slid into bed. The firm mattress and clean white percale sheets Maggie insisted on ironing welcomed his aching body. This can be a good life for Jason and me. We’ll both heal here. Within seconds, Link slept as soundly as did the boys in the nearby ballroom.

  * * *

  "Dad, Dad. Wake up." Jason tugged on Link's shoulder. "This is the morning you promised we could build the tree house, remember?”

  Certain from the fog in his head that he had slept only a few minutes, Link glanced at the clock. Wrong. Damn. A luxurious four hours had passed since he’d hit the sheets.

  "Okay, son.” He forced a smile and tousled his son’s hair. “Happy Birthday. Feel any older this morning?”

  Jason jumped high. “Yes! Yay, I’m finally seven.” He grabbed Link’s hand, “Come on, Dad. The guys are waiting.”

  “Give me time for a shower. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."


  He saw Jason watching as if to make certain Link made it all the way out of bed and into the shower.

  "I'm moving, I'm moving," Link reassured his son.

  Jason smiled and then bounded down the stairs.

  Seeing the boy happy and eager again was great. Too much time had passed since Link had seen Jason this excited.

  Chapter Four

  Link flicked a red ant off his arm and raised his field glasses once again. Pursuing undercover leads from Travis during Link’s free time, he had discovered a cluster of three mobile homes. They formed a U-shape with the west exposure open to the Brazos River below. When he began his vigil earlier, he’d circled wide to avoid approaching without cover.

  The pale gray center mobile home looked to be a fairly new double-wide and faced the river. Very plain, it sat at the top, eastern, position and it had a small wooden deck and steps at the front. No shrubs, no trees, no flowers. The other two homes were single-wide stark white structures, each with a tan roof and concrete blocks for steps at what would be the front door. These two appeared to be much older than the center building.

  At each tip of the U sat what Link estimated to be a new tan fifteen-foot metal shed. His search of the road he’d spotted during the previous night’s patrol had paid off. As he’d suspected, it led to the river in a roundabout route. Lucky for him, he’d found another road that offered access to a good vantage point, but was still on the same side of the river.

  Earlier this afternoon, he had seen two men and two dogs—a huge Doberman and an even larger mastiff—carefully patrolling the compound-like area. No, he corrected himself. Patrolling might be a bit too formal.

  The men weren’t dressed as guards, just in jeans and tee shirts. Their concentration looked to be centered on the two side buildings and storage sheds. They had appeared highly observant, but for now had disappeared into the gray mobile home and were no longer in sight. The dogs lay in the shade under the deck.