Wounded Badge Vista

by Kieran York

  Royce’s heart sunk. She hadn’t heard that update. “I guess we’ll have to wait.” She took a sip of coffee. Nothing tasted good, even her grandmother’s delicious pot of perked coffee.

  Debra read Royce’s thoughts. “They sort of have to say things like touch and go. Don’t want people getting their hopes up too high.”

  “Any more leads?” Gran asked.

  “No. I’m not sure about the people I’ve interrogated. No official interviews. The indigent community, three homeless men. They come up here every summer. Nick had made one an enemy. And there was an encounter with prospector, Chris Wyatt. He was panning for gold on his neighbor’s property.”

  “That’s been going on for years with Wyatt. If a place in the stream looks like gold has a home there, he’s gonna do some panning,” Gran commented. “I think there’s been a couple of owners moaning about it. But mostly just one fella.”

  “Anyway, so far it seems to be small squabbles. Nothing that would cause anyone to shoot Nick.” Royce frowned. “I’m not sure what motivates people lately. Lots of sniping going on.”

  Gran agreed, “There truly is. Those folks squabbling should be savin’ their breath to cool their oatmeal. Too much fighting.”

  Debra added, “Mike always says that there’s no telling what makes someone snap. When he was working in the city, he used to tell me that some were joy killings. Just killed for some joy. But he believed when a murderer killed for what they believe is a reason, there really is no reason. Because there is no reason for killing anyone. Anger, money, love, no matter if they said they killed for a reason. There really was no reason for taking another’s life.”

  Royce softly said, “Your grandson is safe in an office. Sometimes people need to kill for self-defense, or to save a life. Or if they’re in a war.” She stood,” I’m going out to fix the power box.”

  Royce was pretty sure, that her grandmother was enlightening Debra about the fact that Royce had, in fact, killed. And Gran knew that it hurt Royce to discuss it. After Royce finished, she returned to the kitchen where Gran and Debra were pilling sacks for her to take down to the Sheriff’s Office.

  “Hungry work,” Gran said. “With all of you being so busy at the Sheriff’s office, we’re trying to keep your stomachs filled.”

  Debra was flushed, “Royce, I understand about killing to save lives.” She gave Royce a hug. “I’m always spouting off. I say things before I think. I apologize.”

  “It’s okay, Debra. Nothing to apologize for.” She hugged back.

  Gran joked, “Instead of me apologizing for anything I say, I just tell folks that it takes a mighty lot of work to get older.”

  They all laughed. Gran tucked a handful of butterscotch candy in Royce’s pocket. “Thanks, Gran. I’m getting spoiled. The kids set butterscotch on the kitchen counter so I won’t forget it.”

  On her way back to the SUV, Royce took a moment for Chance to run. The dog dashed through the lovely area. Exercise. Then they entered the vehicle for their return trip to Timber.

  Although only a few minutes ride, it seemed like an excruciatingly long trip. Royce’s thoughts were consumed with the violence she’d known as an enforcer. It was a feeling that never went away. Nor did she expect that it would.

  ***

  The remainder of the day was spent in her office. Royce sorted the things of minor importance that she hadn’t been able to get to in the last couple days. She returned calls, and took calls. Dispatched a few calls to deputies. Leads were valuable. They needed the public’s help. Gwen and Nadine were daily putting out calls for any information. Their e-Edition helped some, but so far there had been no sighting of the black Ford Ranger.

  Ron Mosely, from the Bell Ringer, had a clean record. In his younger years, he had indeed been a wrestler. Although he made a living in the ring, it hadn’t been a profitable profession. After that, he’d managed a few wrestlers, again with very little success. Royce got a chance to peruse through some messaging that he had on a primarily sports-contact Facebook page. He seemed to be liked by a few friends. Royce checked his list of the wrestlers he thought would win matches. Royce hoped he didn’t have a bet on any of them.

  If he did gamble, Faye Arnall would soon put her foot down. Royce grinned. The sheriff bet that Faye could take her new, decade younger lover in as many rounds as they fought. A wrestling ring would probably be small potatoes for Faye. Royce knew a sure thing bet.

  What was the attraction? For Faye it was undoubtedly sex. For Ron, it was a good place to tuck his feet under the table. But most importantly, Royce saw a common thread. They both loved humor. Recognized it, shared it, and appreciated it in one another. Royce had chuckled many times when she read their posts back and forth. It was obvious they’d met online. And now were enjoying one another.

  Also, Royce called the university that Kirk Dillard had attended. Talking with two of his professors, and an administrator, Royce was stymied by Kirk’s lack of social skills. A wealthy, privileged young man, average looking, and smart should have been a good catch. Apparently, his conversations were sparse. He had no record of having joined clubs, activities, or interests. His class photo was as good as it got.

  As for additional evidentiary information - the lab had prioritized. Rushed through were DNA and fingerprints of Claude Myers. Or as he was officially named: Lee Claude Mayers. He’d had a record from decades ago. His offenses were auto theft, and assault. Two years on auto theft, and eighteen months on assault. Clean, or at least not caught, from there on. The records were so old, that there weren’t anger management classes to cut time from his time served. But Royce had looked into the fierce eyes of hatred that he’d displayed this morning, and she knew he could use classes.

  Faye Arnall knew a ‘mean drunks’ when she saw one. He was angry.

  The afternoon continued with lists of criminals that Nick had apprehended. Anyone with a past altercation with the wounded undersheriff was checked. Incarcerations? So far no one had been recently released. Perhaps the crime wasn’t retribution. Revenge was a reason for violence, but it wasn’t the usual. When a criminal was released, that criminal usually stayed as far as possible from the one that caught him or her.

  Exhausted, Royce watched as Hertha walked toward the Timber City Times. Figuring that Hertha was calling on Gwen and Nadine to chat, Royce decided to cross the street to visit.

  “Hi,” Royce greeted her lover and her friends, Gwen and Nadine. “I thought I’d drop over for the news.”

  Gwen and Hertha were sitting opposite one another at Nadine’s desk. Gwen called back toward the kitchen. “Nadine, another herbal tea.”

  When Nadine arrived with the drinks, she passed one to Royce. “I just made a pot of herbal tea.” She sat.

  Gwen added, “I contacted Sam with some possible leads. They didn’t sound promising.”

  “I’m thinking maybe the perp, Kirk Dillard or whoever, might be in California, or New York,” Royce sounded dejected. With a limp laugh, the sheriff added, “Maybe Kirk and ‘hot’ woman ran away to become mobsters in a larger city.”

  Hertha offered, “Kirk might have parked his truck in an abandoned structure of some kind. Everyone is looking for that truck. With everyone having the plate information, they could easily identify the truck, if it were seen.”

  “And not one sighting,” Gwen sighed. “You might as well use your investigative skills to check out Hertha’s…”

  “Nothing,” Hertha quickly interrupted, as she held up her hand.

  “What’s going on?” Royce quizzed. Quietness resonated through the room. “Come on, something’s going on.”

  “I thought you told her,” Gwen contritely uttered. “You said you were planning to tell her last night.”

  “No.” Hertha spoke softly. “I came over here to tell you I had decided against it.”

  “What is going on,” Royce demanded, “Something is wrong. I need to know.”

  Hertha leaned toward her, “No, you don’t need to know
. It isn’t important. When Nick is better and his shooter is found, we’ll talk about it. It’s mine to tell or not to tell.” She glared at Gwen.

  “Hertha, we don’t keep things from one another.” Royce precisely spoke. Her anger was building. “I want you to tell me, now. I don’t keep secrets from you.”

  Tears were building in Hertha’s eyes. “Don’t I have anything that belongs only to me? We don’t own one another’s souls.”

  Royce leaned back. “I don’t understand. I’m in a space of time when the world seems to be coming apart. And you’re keeping secrets? Last time you kept secrets, you left me for a year.”

  “Please Royce, it isn’t anything like that. It’s because you’re working this case. I don’t want you to worry about my problem.”

  “Are you okay? What problem?” Royce impatiently questioned. “For god sakes, you are keeping something from me, and now I’ve got to worry about that, when I’m chasing down a potential killer.”

  Nadine stood. “Hertha, it isn’t really fair to keep it from Royce. But Royce, will you promise not to do anything about it until this case is solved?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Royce,” Hertha began, “I’ve taken a DNA test on my ancestry. To find out about my heritage.”

  “You know about your Native American heritage. And so you are searching for your father?” Royce was puzzled.

  “My mother was a young teenager when she was raped by three Anglo young men. I had a right to know. Now DNA testing, has made it possible to identify which of them was my biological father. What I am?”

  Royce’s hands covered her head. “But why now? We talked about my running a DNA sample through to identify him and to see if he’s got a record.” She paused, attempting to read Hertha’s eyes. To see into her emotion. “I would always help you. You know that.” Breathing deeply to get oxygen, Royce felt her face burning. “I love you.”

  “I have already tested, and checked it out. I know which of them impregnated my mother.” She looked desolate. “Utes, my tribal lineage, believe that there is cellular identity. Cellular remembrance. I walk with spirits from my Ute ancestors. They are who I am; yet I am not aware of my other half.” Tears filled Hertha’s eyes. “Please tell me you understand. Or that you’ll try to understand.”

  “I do understand.” Royce reached to hold her hand. “You’ve found him?”

  “I found his daughter. She’s unaware of anything other than that we’re related. The daughter had taken the test. I was going to tell you later. This is something that is a forty-year old crime. It can wait until the case you’re working on is solved. That’s why I refused to tell you.”

  Royce put her arm around Hertha’s shoulder. “Why did you want to find this out? Do you want to locate him? Meet him?”

  “No. But I want you to locate him. I want him prosecuted for raping my mother.”

  Royce felt faint. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “You want me to arrest him?”

  “Yes. He hurt my mother.”

  Chapter 5

  The sheriff was beginning to think she’d never sleep again. Unable to sleep, Royce rolled toward the edge of the bed. She covered her eyes. Not only was she mentally wrangling with the seemingly cold investigation of Nick’s shooting, now she was worried over a freezing cold case involving the woman she loved.

  “Do you forgive me for not telling you?” Hertha whispered across the bed.

  “I understand why you held it back, I do.” Royce turned back toward Hertha. She embraced her. “You know it’s difficult prosecuting a forty-year old case. Particularly difficult when the victim is deceased.”

  “He should be arrested. Imprisoned. Pay for it.” Hertha lifted, leaning on her elbow. She looked down at her lover.

  “I know, babe. I know. I’ll check with Mike later. What can you tell me about it?”

  “The blood match was between my DNA and his daughter’s sample. Her name is Diane Corby McGill. She’s thirty-seven years old. She lives in Lakewood. No other siblings are listed. Her father’s name is Gregory Corby. Her mother, Selma, is deceased. She died last year. No other information.”

  “I’ll put the names through our databases. Have you checked the social networks? Maybe this Diane interfaces on social media.” Royce inhaled deeply. “Hertha, are you certain you want to know about this family?”

  “Yes. I’m certain. Royce, let’s leave it until Nick’s okay. And the case is solved.”

  “I can work more than one case at a time,” Royce’s voice inflected sarcasm. “Until we locate the black Ford Ranger, or Kirk Dillard, or both, we are stuck with no evidence that leads anywhere. We’re chasing our tails.”

  Hertha caressed Royce’s cheek. “I just don’t want you worrying about it. I’ve been fine for the past four decades without knowing.” She paused. “Oh, I forgot to ask, are you going to Crystal to see Nick this morning?”

  “I’m talking with Nick’s doctors. So, I’ll go up early.”

  “The kid’s grandparents thought it would be nice for Nick’s children if Antero and Vannie visit them. Bev and I don’t want them out and about unless there’s protection. And they’ve got security at their home.” Hertha shrugged. “I want the children’s lives to feel normal.”

  “It’s a great idea. Our kids want to do something different, but we’ve got to make certain they’re safe. I’ll take them to spend a day at Nick and Bev’s, then I’ll go check out the hospital.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. I know the Hogan children are stressed. I thought maybe in a couple days, I could have them over. There’s always lots here to do with the animals.”

  “Nick told me when they came to visit, they always had such a good time that Bev figured they wanted to move in with you.”

  Hertha chuckled. “I love animals and kiddos. I just didn’t think I’d be raising two little people. Just since we’ve had them, they’re growing up. Vannie at eight and Antero at seven – it seems like they’re growing so quickly.”

  “We’re blessed to have them. They keep us young.”

  Hertha leaned and kissed Royce. “I love you so much.”

  “Hertha, I’ve been thinking about this cellular memory.”

  “Genetic codes and brain cells. I’ve just started to study about it. Fascinating. Parents pass off traits to their off-springs.”

  “Like memory cards.” Royce mused. Interesting concept, she considered. She was often staggered by how similar her ideas were to her father’s.

  Hertha’s eyes shut and her head leaned against Royce’s shoulder. “It’s daunting, and unsettling to think I have a rapist’s DNA.”

  “But you’ve inherited you mother’s honorable, kind qualities. You are such a good woman – that’s the part of your ancestry that you became.”

  Royce considered that the true written record of us isn’t necessarily handed down. The path humanity takes is one’s own.

  Royce held her tightly. “Hon, I love you just the way you are.”

  “You asked about my secret. Yes, I did leave you. Betray you. And I let you down again by keeping a secret.”

  Royce sat up. “We can’t go back there. You had a problem and you felt you would need to solve it. End of story.”

  “My reason for leaving you wasn’t valid. Yes, my mother just died. She’d been taking care of Vannie and Antero after their parents died. I had just made the decision to take guardianship of my niece and nephew. Yes, you had always said that you didn’t want children because you were an enforcer, and didn’t want to leave children behind. But my decision to leave you and try living with my ex was totally wrong. I know that now. I would never hurt you again.” She sighed deeply as she touched Royce’s cheeks. “Never. Now, I only thought if I told you about my parentage later, I’d be saving you concern. You need to be focused on catching Nick’s shooter.”

  “You were under duress,” Royce spoke softly. Royce loved Hertha so much, she couldn’t stand to hear an unfair diatribe being stated. “It’
s all worked out the way it’s meant to. We are together.” And the sheriff knew that ‘together’ now meant forever.

  ***

  Pulling up into the driveway of Bev and Nick’s home, Royce thought of all the joy their home had held. Every summer Nick hosted a BBQ for the deputies, workers at Justice Offices, and their families. When possible, they shared birthdays, and holidays.

  Vannie and Antero got out of the SUV, said goodbye to Deputy Chance, and rushed inside to play with the Hogan children. Sara was eleven, and her younger brother, Andy, was nine. Both children had their father’s wavy dark hair, and blue eyes, and his good looks.

  The four children got along together well. When Hertha had moved back to Timber with her Native American children, the kids were bullied. But Sara and Andy helped the two youngsters to acclimate to the predominately white grade school. They encouraged their classmates to accept and love the two new students.

  Royce was grateful to both Sara and Andy. Sara was happy to be the older ‘sister’ of the two. Andy loved having someone to play with.

  After the children were safely delivered, Royce began to leave. She noticed the deputy petting Chance. The deputy nodded to the sheriff.

  Royce said, “Thanks for watching two extras.”

  “No problem. Their grandparents keep them inside, and keep their eyes open for anyone.” He paused. “Sheriff, you think that Nick was set up? It wasn’t a matter of any enforcer would do?”

  “I don’t see it as a crime of opportunity. It doesn’t seem like a random event. The shooter could have shot numerous deputies out and about. The guy set up a scenario, gave driver’s license information so Nick could check him out before agreeing to the ride-along. If he was just out randomly shooting deputies, he wouldn’t have given information.”

  “The guy must have taken off immediately after. We’ve been searching and nothing.”

  “Deputy, I’m perplexed about it. Nick is a lawman with very few enemies.”

  The deputy looked down. “I didn’t think he had any. We all really respect the guy.”