by Liliana Hart
Coil yawned too. “Now cut that out. You’ve got me going now. The life of a sheriff ain’t all glitz and glamour.”
“Well, the life of a sheriff is cutting into my social life.” And then he blew out a breath and dug for courage. “I’m thinking about popping the question next month, but I haven’t had time to find a ring. Or make a plan.”
Coil’s face lit with pleasure. “Congratulations. It’s about time.”
“Agatha’s been renting a room from me since November. Doesn’t make sense to keep collecting rent, and I figured living with me might ease her into the idea. She can be stubborn. And opinionated.”
Coil laughed out loud. “If you know that and you still want to marry her, then more power to you. I’m sure she’s been a terrible roommate,” Coil said, waggling his eyebrows.
Hank felt color rush into his cheeks. He was too old to have a reaction like that. “There’s been no hanky-panky. We’re just roommates. And we both agreed from the start that we wanted to keep it old-fashioned. She’s been paying rent, but I’ve been stashing it away for her engagement ring.”
“You’re going to buy your future bride an engagement ring with her own money?” Coil asked, wide-eyed.
“When you put it that way, maybe not. I’ll figure out something. I want the ring and the place to be perfect.”
“Then it will be,” Coil said. “Now, what’s up with Sergeant Springer?”
Hank didn’t roll his eyes, but he wanted to. “What about him?”
“Heard he’s looking for a job with the Travis County Sheriff.”
Hank shrugged. “Maybe he’ll be a better fit there. Or in another profession. Not everyone is cut out to be a cop.”
“He’s not a bad guy, Hank. He’s just grown up in a bubble. He needs real world experience.”
“Then he should join the military.”
“Listen, this is where you need to take advantage of my experience and advice. You were like your own island before you retired. You worked alone for the most part, and you floated between the FBI and your local agency pretty freely. You didn’t have to train men. You just told them what you wanted from them and if they didn’t deliver they didn’t work cases with you again. This is different. And not everyone is a big city cop. There are guys like Springer all over the country, and unless someone takes the time to mentor them, they’ll either take their untapped potential away from policing, or they’ll stay where they are and become horrible cops who help no one.”
Hank sighed. “You’re right. I’ll take a little more time with him.”
“Good,” Coil said, nodding. “Now what’s going on with the Leland Grant case?”
“Besides murder?”
“That was pretty obvious from the body.”
“We didn’t find a weapon,” he said. “I’m guessing he took it with him because it had prints.”
“I can’t imagine someone going into Mr. Grant’s office on a Tuesday morning with the intention of killing him. It looks like a meeting went sideways, and whoever was angry about it left, and then came back in through the back door to take a swing at him. Whatever it was they used to kill him had to have been something they owned, but nothing they wanted to discard.”
Hank grunted. “I need more information on the widow. There’s something strange there. And she’s set to inherit a lot of assets.”
“You get a chance to meet the college student?” Coil asked. “Talk about strange.”
“Mr. University of Texas?” Hank asked. “No, but she was on her way to Austin before we interrupted her plans with the murder of her husband. He seems to be a touchy subject.”
“Because he’s the biggest loser you’ll ever meet. He’s been working on a Liberal Arts degree for seven years. But for all intents and purposes, he’s a mama’s boy, and the relationship with dad was strained at best.”
“Really?” Hank asked. “That is interesting. Maybe we need to find out where Mr. Liberal Arts was yesterday. I wish you’d stayed on scene. We need all the help we can get.”
“I hated to leave, but Jimmie James was right. I’m not the sheriff. Not yet, anyway.”
Hank sat up straighter. “Does that mean you’re going to fight for what’s rightfully yours?”
“I’m done laying down and waiting to die,” he said. “Oddie McElroy is going down.”
Chapter Five
Agatha strolled through Hank’s house with a hot towel wrapped around her aching neck, and a bottle of water in each hand. Ten miles of running had left her exhausted and chilled to the bone.
The roads had been so slick and icy over the last week that she hadn’t been able to run without fear of falling on her behind. The sun had cleared things up, so she decided to make the run while she tried to process everything from the crime scene.
She was dying for a hot shower, but she was mostly anxious to discover what Hank and Coil had talked about at breakfast. Hank’s text that he was heading home had made her hold off on the shower. Instead, she lit the fire pit out back and snuggled beneath a fuzzy blanket on the bench.
“Aggie,” Hank called out.
“Out back,” she replied.
Hank slipped through the sliding door with a bottle of water for her, and she smiled and lifted the two bottles she’d almost emptied. For having lived alone most of his adult life, she loved that Hank made it a point to be thoughtful.
They’d honored their promise to stick to their respective bedrooms, but Hank was always doing things for her in some way. She’d been independent for so many years, she wasn’t used to having anyone—especially a man—be so considerate.
“For the sake of brevity,” Agatha said, lifting the blanket for Hank so he could sit next to her, “I had a great run, I haven’t showered yet, and I’m starving. So how did it go with Coil?”
“How about a hello?” he asked, teasingly.
She kissed him.
Hank raised a brow. “Talk about cutting to the chase.”
Agatha elbowed him and he laughed. He’d started doing that more, and she loved to see it.
“Spill it,” she said.
“Coil’s got his hands full with the ethics violation. His attorney is on the case, but Oddie McElroy and his crooked cronies are making life difficult. Seems the plan is to keep him focused on fighting false allegations and out of office until election day.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I love Coil, but his past and the connections he keeps make it hard to know what side of the law he’s on.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. “Coil has always been on the up and up. I can’t believe you still don’t trust him.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t trust him. I just said I can see how some people who don’t know him like we do might have a hard time trusting him.”
“I can’t control what other people think, but I can be his friend.”
“I’m his friend too, but let’s face it, we’re trying to solve a murder and salvage his career at the same time. We’ve got to pick one. Coil is a big boy. He’s got an attorney, and he’s got fight in him. But Leland Grant doesn’t have anyone but us.”
“You’ve got a good point,” he sat back. “I guess we should get back to work.”
“I’m going to shower,” she said, coming to her feet. She reached down and took his hand to help him up.
“Coil has always been there for me,” Hank said, putting his forehead against hers. “We go back a long way. There were times I didn’t believe in myself, but Coil never once wavered. He’d call, and a few times he hopped on a plane and flew out to see me. We didn’t have internet and Facetime like there is today. That never stopped him from being there for me. I will not abandon him, now or ever. He’s my best friend.”
“I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll always stand with him too.”
“I know, and so does Coil. After all, weren’t you the one who went to war with Dot Williams for talking trash about him?” Hank asked.
“And I�
��ll do it again if she ever shows her ugly face in Rusty Gun.”
Hank chuckled. “Good. We’ll do what we can to support Coil. We can’t let Oddie McElroy win. I need to run a background check on him. Coil thinks he’s involved in shady business.”
“Have you ever met him?” Agatha asked.
“Not yet,” Hank said.
“You’ll hate him. Come on, I’m excited about this case.”
“You’re excited about murder?” He asked.
“Well, not that Mr. Grant’s dead,” she snickered. “But I’m excited we’re working together again.”
“Aggie, we just solved a hundred-year-old cold case, and arrested an FBI agent while returning millions of dollars back to the rightful owners.”
“I know,” Agatha said, “But we have an actual body to work with this time.”
“Speaking of the victim, when’s the autopsy?” he asked.
“This afternoon. Deputy James and I are attending.”
“Do me a favor and bring Springer with you.”
She gasped. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I know, but he’s young, and someone needs to teach him. He deserves to learn unless he proves he’s unteachable, and the people he serves deserve better too.”
Her lips twitched. “That sounds like something Coil would say.”
“Everyone needs mentoring,” Hank admitted. “Even me. Try your best to keep Springer from passing out during the autopsy. We’re going to need him to get into Mr. Grant’s computer. James secured the search warrant from the judge, so now it’s a matter for the IT guru.”
“How cool would that be if the killer’s name is actually in the appointment book?” she asked.
“Kind of disappointing,” Hank said. “Killers should be smarter. But they rarely ever are.”
Chapter Six
The Bell County Sheriff’s Office was a small building at the end of Main Street. The city founders planned for there to be another row of businesses on the other side of the sheriff’s office, but things didn’t work out when Salado was chosen for the railroad line and depot. Not getting the railroad stifled Rusty Gun’s growth, but not its character.
Hank sat behind Coil’s desk. Coil had taken all of his personal belongings and photographs with him, but Hank hadn’t bothered to move any of his personal belongings in. If everything went right, he wouldn’t be there long anyway.
He shuffled a few reports on the empty desk, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He kept checking the door to see if Agatha were there yet. He wanted to take another look at the report and photos from the crime scene. He could admit that his attention was splintered. Between Coil and trying to get ideas for his proposal to Agatha, he wasn’t at his sharpest. Leland Grant deserved better.
He read the signed search warrant authorizing them to examine Mr. Grant’s computer, making sure everything was in order. It wasn’t as simple as looking through someone’s home laptop. This was a business computer that contained financial records of almost everyone in Rusty Gun.
Looking in Grant’s system was going to take a high level of discretion and confidentiality. Unfortunately, Sergeant Springer was their expert in computer forensics. He had a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science from Texas A&M, and he’d been offered a good job in the industry. But he’d resisted the idea of moving to the big city for big pay and had bounced from one small police department to another.
Hank didn’t trust him and he didn’t like him. Springer was a know-it-all who rubbed Hank the wrong way on principle. Coil had been right, if this had been several years before when Hank was running the show, a guy like Springer never would have darkened his door.
The work he’d done was fast-paced, fast-thinking, and stupid mistakes weren’t tolerated. There’d been too much at stake. A guy like Springer never would have crossed his path, but he knew Coil was right. Most of the world didn’t operate at that level of excellence, and there was a learning curve. People had to gain experience from somewhere.
The words on the page blurred in front of him. Lord, he was tired. His mind kept circling back to Grant’s appointment book. Would the killer have really made an appointment? Would it be under an assumed name? It was hard to hide anything in a town the size of Rusty Gun. Why hadn’t the killer smashed the computer or taken it? He also thought it odd that a man Mr. Grant’s age used a computer system for appointments. Hank made a note to find out if Grant had a receptionist or any outside help.
He heard the sound of boots shuffling across the floor and knew it was Springer before he saw his head pop in the doorway.
“Got a sec, Sheriff?”
“Sure, come on in.”
Springer eased into the chair across from the desk, his shoulders hunched. He was a big man, the chair was just a tad small, and he looked pitiful. Hank had a feeling this was part of the Springer routine. Mentoring the man was one thing, but he had to do his part and take responsibility for his actions.
“What can I do for you?” Hank asked, removing his reading glasses.
“Sheriff—I mean, Coil, said I should come and speak with you about my future here.”
Hank crossed his forearms tight across his chest. He might be in his fifth decade, but he was still an intimidating figure. He was built like a brawler, and since he’d started working out again, his chest, shoulders and biceps were imposing. He leaned back in the chair and raised his brows.
“I’m sorry,” Springer said.
Those words were a surprise, but a pleasant one. He hadn’t been sure Springer had it in him to humble himself.
“Can you elaborate?” Hank asked.
“I was wrong yesterday.”
“And?”
“And, I’m sorry.”
Hank let out a deep breath. He guessed that was all the elaboration he was going to get.
“Apology accepted,” Hank said. “And if you’re open to constructive criticism, I promise to help you become a better cop.”
Springer inhaled quickly and sat up straight. “I’d appreciate it, Sheriff. Really. Thanks for not firing me.”
“I’ve got a search warrant for Leland Grant’s computer. The guys tell me computers are your area.”
“You bet, Sheriff. When do I start?”
“You’ll have to fit it in this afternoon. You’re going to be busy this morning.”
“I am?” he asked.
“You’re going to head out with James and Agatha to observe the autopsy.”
Springer’s face paled and then turned an interesting shade of green. He swallowed hard two or three times, and Hank wondered if he was going to pass out like he had the day before.
“You want to be a cop,” Hank said, “You’ve got to figure out how to blank this stuff out. You’re going to see things a heck of a lot worse than Leland Grant’s body or an autopsy over the course of your career. You’ve got to go to that place in your mind where it doesn’t affect you. And then you’ve got to find a way to process it when you’re off duty.”
He swallowed again and little beads of perspiration had gathered on his upper lip.
“Why don’t you go get some coffee and figure out where that place in your mind is,” Hank said, dismissing him.
He looked back down at the Grant report to give Springer the chance to escape, but his thoughts kept going back to Agatha. She’d been occupying his thoughts more and more lately. He loved her. He had fun with her. And he never thought he could see himself spending his life with anyone other than his wife. But he could with Agatha. It terrified and excited him all at the same time.
Agatha and Tammy couldn’t have been more different, which he guessed was a good thing. His relationship with Agatha was…unique. His first marriage had been good, and he’d always treasure the years they’d had together, but what he and Agatha had was special. He’d be a fool to think otherwise. He couldn’t describe the connection they had. He only knew he’d been blessed with a second chance and he was going to take it
Valentine’s Day wa
s coming up, and if everything went right, he’d have a ring and all the other romantic junk that would make the moment perfect for Agatha.
“Hey boss, you got a second?” Deputy James said, poking his head into the office.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I ran back out to the crime scene to give it a second look.”
“And?”
“And, found and lifted some metallic flakes from the desk chair.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “From the murder weapon?”
“Looks like it. It’ll have to go to the FBI’s lab for the level of analysis we need. That’s way out of our league.”
“I think I have a connection or two,” Hank said dryly.
“I’ll get it packaged and ready for overnight shipping.”
“Good work,” Hank said. “Oh, and don’t give Springer too hard of a time at the autopsy today.”
“If he faints, I’m not carrying him out of there,” James said. “Are you trying to punish him or us?”
“I’m trying to build character,” Hank said.
“Whose?” James asked.
Hank’s mouth twitched. “That’s yet to be seen. But good luck.”
“What do we need good luck for?” Agatha asked.
“Springer at the autopsy,” James said.
She scrunched her nose. “I’m not carrying him if he passes out again.”
“You’re both safe from carrying Springer,” Hank said. “James was just telling me he found metallic flakes at the crime scene. Could be from the murder weapon. He’s going to get them packaged so we can ship it to the FBI lab.”
“Excellent,” Agatha said, slapping James on the back. “Hopefully the coroner can find transfer materials in Mr. Grant’s skull.”
“Skull?” Springer asked, coming up behind them.
“It’s that big lump sitting on your neck,” James said. “We’ve all got one. Some bigger than others. Come on, Sarge. We’ll get take out Chinese on the way.”
Springer looked like he was going to started gagging, and Hank chuckled as they ambled out the door. Agatha gave him a wink over her shoulder, and his heart lightened. Maybe he shouldn’t wait until February to ask her. Maybe he should do it much, much sooner.
