“Thank you. It’s been a wonderful day,” Abby said as she hugged Mary and kissed her cheek. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can help you with?”
“No, you two run along,” Mary said. “Whatever’s left will keep until tomorrow. All I’m going to do is sit on the couch and put my feet up and watch a little TV.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what, we really appreciated your hospitality last week, but it sure feels good to be back in our own home,” Carl said.
“Yes it does,” Abby agreed. “And we can’t thank you enough for the cleaning and everything.” She shuddered and said, “I was just sure I’d never even be able to walk through that door again. But Carl was right. It’s our home and we can’t let the memory of what happened drive us out of it. There are far too many wonderful memories we’ve shared there.”
They departed with a round of hugs and handshakes, and Weber and Robyn left at the same time. He opened the door of her Mustang and she slid inside, then looked up from the driver’s seat.
“Jimmy, I’m sorry I’ve avoided you the last few days. I’m just so confused. I see Carl and Abby and the way they are so obviously in love, and even Mary and Pete, as much as they grumble at each other, and I want that someday. I really do. But I’m just starting my career as a deputy, and that’s something I’ve always wanted too.”
“The two don’t have to be exclusive,” Weber told her. “Mary and Pete worked together for years.”
“Yes, but she was in the office. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Nobody could run that place like she does. But I’ve been in the office, Jimmy. I spent two years sitting at that dispatch desk. It’s not for me. I want to be out on the road as a deputy.”
“And you don’t think we could make that work?”
“I don’t know,” Robyn said with a shake of her head. “What happens if we wanted to start a family someday? I don’t even know if you want kids!”
“Well, we’ve already got Parks,” he told her. “He’s never gonna grow up.”
“Be serious, Jimmy!”
“Sorry.”
“My point is, what do we really know about each other? Suddenly we were talking about marriage and I don’t even know if you want kids. I don’t know if you want a wife that spends her days and nights riding around in a patrol car. I don’t even know if you really do want to get married or if that was just a knee jerk reaction to the whole Town Council thing and what Kirby said to you.”
“You’re right, Robyn. There are a lot of things we need to sit down and talk about. And to be honest, I don’t know the answers to some of those questions. But I do know two things. I know that I love you, and the very thought of you not being in my life scares the hell out of me. And if I was ever going to have what those two old farts in there have, or what Carl and Abby have, there’s nobody in the world but you that I would want to have it with.”
There were tears in her eyes when Robyn looked at him and said, “For a small town boy who says he doesn’t know a lot, you sure know how to say the things that hit me right here.” She tapped her chest, then leaned out the window to kiss him.
“Wherever all of this takes us, Jimmy, I promise you one thing. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 23
Wyatt Trask was waiting for Weber when he arrived at his office Monday morning. The deputy’s face was haggard, he hadn’t shaved, and his eyes were bloodshot. If Weber had not known better, he would have thought Wyatt was coming down from a long drinking binge.
“You look like hell, Wyatt,” Weber told him. “Have you gotten any sleep?”
Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t sleep. I start to drift off and wake right back up.”
“Did you call Molly Bateson to set up an appointment? It really will help, Wyatt.”
Wyatt shook his head.
“When’s the last time you had anything to eat?”
Again Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “No appetite.”
Weber leaned forward in his seat to look the deputy in the face. “Wyatt, you need some help. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve been exactly where you are. I’m not over it yet. But you can learn to deal with it. Let me give Molly a call and set something up for you.”
He was reaching for his telephone when Wyatt said, “Don’t bother, Sheriff. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I know that I can’t do this job any more. I just came in to tell you that I’m quitting.”
“Wyatt, don’t rush into any decisions, okay? Right now, your mind is all tangled up and I understand that. Give yourself some time. Talk to Molly. She’s done me a lot of good. You’ve got the makings of a good cop. Don’t throw that away.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I just can’t do it, Sheriff. I’ve put in hundreds of hours on the range but now just the thought of touching a gun makes me sick. And with what I’m going through now, I know I could never shoot anybody again. What if it came to that and I got somebody else killed, some innocent civilian or another cop, because I wasn’t able to do my job? I never want to be put in this position again.”
“I know exactly how you’re feeling, Wyatt,” Weber told him. “I asked myself over and over if I could pull the trigger again if I had to. And I really didn’t know, until Monday in the Thriftway. I was starting to when you fired your shot.”
“You’re a better man than me,” Wyatt said, and Weber wondered how knowing he could take another human life, if necessary, made him a better man.
“I talked to my brother for a long time last night,” Wyatt continued. “He’s a trucker and wants me to team up with him for a while. I think I’m going to do it. If I like it, maybe I’ll get my own rig. It’s what I need to do, Sheriff. I’m sorry to let you down.”
“You’re not letting me down, Wyatt,” Weber assured him. “You have to do what’s right for you. But I still wish you’d talk to Molly, at least once. Whether you’re in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler or in a police car, what you experienced won’t just go away. You need somebody to help you process all of this.”
“I appreciate it,” Wyatt told him, “but what I need is to get away from all of it. I told my brother that as soon as the shooting review is over and I’m free to leave, I’d be there.”
Weber knew he couldn’t force his soon-to-be former deputy to seek help if he didn’t want it, and he had to acknowledge to himself that at least Wyatt was honest enough to realize that he would not be capable of using deadly force if put into the same position again. Weber couldn’t say the same for himself; until the shooting at the grocery store he wasn’t sure whether or not he could pull the trigger on a living, breathing target again.
“You can leave any time you need to,” Weber said. “It was a justifiable shooting, and I’m not going to hold you here if you want to go. Just in case anything comes up with the Town Council, let’s call it a leave of absence until the Department of Public Safety makes their official ruling. We’ll need an address and contact information, in case we need to get in touch with you, but I don’t anticipate anything coming up.”
“One more thing, Sheriff, I need to get rid of my firearms. Like I said, I can’t touch them.”
“Wyatt, you know the gun was just a tool, right? It’s not good or evil, it’s just an inanimate object.”
“I understand that on a rational level. But I’d feel the same way if I would have run somebody over with my car,” Wyatt said. “I’ve got my AR-15, my Glock .40 duty weapon, a Baby Glock .40 I carried off duty, and a twelve gauge tactical Remington shotgun. If you or any of the guys here wants them, you’re welcome to them.”
Weber knew that deputies didn’t make huge salaries and the firearms were all expensive models. He didn’t want the young man to suffer a financial loss on top of everything else he was dealing with. “I’ll tell you what, Wyatt, I’ll ask if any of the guys want them at a fair price. If not, I’ll write you a check.”
“That’s good of you, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”
He reached into his pocket and
pulled out his badge and handed it to Weber, along with his department identification card. The men shook hands and Weber told him to keep in touch, but he was pretty sure that when Wyatt Trask left Big Lake there were too many painful memories that would prevent him from revisiting in any way, be it physically, or just a telephone call.
***
In spite of their earlier misgivings about the overzealous deputy, everyone in the office shook Wyatt’s hand and wished him well in whatever he chose to do with his life. Weber sent Dolan and Tommy along with him, to retrieve Wyatt’s police car and weapons.
“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Parks asked.
“Yeah. I really wish he’d have talked to Molly before he made any decisions.”
“Well, Scooter, some folks just aren’t cut out for police work. You know that. And I don’t know anybody who’s ever had to shoot somebody that it didn’t tear them all to pieces. It’s better to know he can’t handle it and get on with his life, than to have him freeze up when push comes to shove and lives are on the line.”
“You’re right,” Weber said. “But like I told him, this isn’t going to just go away, no matter how he decides to make a living. He can’t run away from it because it will follow him wherever he goes.”
“You can’t live another man’s life for him,” Parks said. “Sometimes you just have to step aside and let them go, for better or worse.”
Weber picked up Wyatt’s badge from his desk and put it in a drawer, hoping that whatever his former deputy chose to do with his life, the demons that he himself knew all too well would eventually allow the man to have some peace.
Chapter 24
Parks had been busy on the computer and telephone all day, working right through lunch, which was unheard of for him. It was midafternoon when he came into Weber’s office and took the seat beside his desk.
“We need to talk.”
“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Weber said. “Are you breaking up with me? You’re seeing some other sheriff, aren’t you?”
Parks shook his head, but before he could say anything, Weber asked, “Okay, if it’s not that, what is it? Did you get some girl in trouble? Do we have to go through that whole birds and bees thing all over again?”
Parks shook his head again and held up a manila folder. “A couple of things Carl Weston said yesterday didn’t make sense to me.”
“About the hippies? He did seem kind of intolerant, didn’t he?”
“That was only part of it. I’ve been researching this thing for hours and talking to my Field Office down in Phoenix. The Westons are ghosts.”
“Ghosts? As in wearing sheets and going boo?”
“No, ghosts as in there are absolutely no records about them before they showed up here in Big Lake twelve years ago. They said they came from New York, but there is no history of them ever having drivers’ licenses in New York, or any other state. No licenses, no Social Security cards, nothing at all. It’s like they just suddenly materialized out of thin air.”
Something had been nagging at the edge of Weber’s conscience for over a week, and talking about Wyatt’s resignation earlier in the day and then hearing Parks’ revelations seemed to suddenly bring it to the forefront of his mind, where it became crystal clear.
“We’ve got some more homework to do,” Weber said.
***
Carl Weston was loading suitcases into the back of his blue Subaru Forester when Weber, Parks, and Chad pulled into the driveway on Zuni Lane. He closed the liftgate and turned to smile at them as they got out of Weber’s Explorer.
“Hi guys. What’s up? If you’re back for a rematch, Chad, I hope you brought the cards.”
“Taking a trip?” Weber asked.
“Yeah, we need to get away for a few days.”
“You’re getting kind of a late start, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I thought being back in the house would be okay, but poor Abby just can’t relax. I thought I’d take her to Las Vegas for a few days, see a couple of shows, throw some quarters in the slot machines, and just unwind. We’ll probably drive as far as Flagstaff or Williams and stop for the night.”
“I can understand that,” Weber said. “You guys do a lot of traveling, don’t you Carl?”
“We’ve got some gypsy in our souls,” Carl said as Abby came out of the house and joined them, wearing a floppy straw hat, with an oversized cloth bag hanging over her shoulder.
She slipped her arm around her husband’s waist and smiled at the three lawmen.
“Hello Sheriff. Agent Parks. Deputy. What brings you three out here?”
“I was just saying to Carl that you two sure take a lot of vacations. It must be nice to be retired.”
“It is, especially when you get to spend your golden years with the love of your life,” Abby agreed.
“Where all do you go off to?” Weber asked. “What are some of your favorite places?”
“Why, are you planning a honeymoon?” Abby teased.
“Oh, you never know,” Weber told her, “I’ve heard Hawaii is nice.”
“Any place can be nice if you’re with the right person,” Abby said, leaning her head on Carl’s shoulder. “But there are lots of wonderful and fascinating places right here in the good old USA. We’ve seen a lot over the years, haven’t we dear?”
“We sure have,” Carl agreed.
“How about places like China or Europe?” Weber asked. “That sounds like it would be fun.”
“Oh yes, we’ve seen the Great Wall, Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, all of the famous landmarks.”
“Really? How do you do that without passports?”
“Passports?”
“Yeah, don’t you need a passport to go places like that?”
“Sure you do,” Carl said. “Ours have more visa stamps on them than a post office.”
“I’d like to see them,” Weber said. “They must be interesting. Almost a travelogue on paper.”
“I’ll have to show them to you sometime,” Carl told him. “Unfortunately, if we’re going to make it to Flagstaff before bedtime, we’d better get a move on.”
He started to reach for the passenger door of the Subaru when Weber asked, “Can I see them now?”
“See what, Sheriff?”
“Your passports.”
“Our passports? They’re in our safe deposit box at the bank. Don’t need passports to travel in the United States.”
“You know the funny thing about passports? We couldn’t find any record of either of you ever having any,” Weber said. “Why would that be?”
Carl turned away from the car door and faced Weber. “Have you been checking up on us, Sheriff? What’s with all the questions?”
“Well, you know, my friend Parks here mentioned to you the other day that history was one of his favorite subjects in school. Truth is, he’s quite the amateur historian. So it seemed strange to him when he mentioned Francis Marion down in South Carolina, you thought it was a college.”
“Frances Marion?”
“Francis Marion, The Swamp Fox. He led a bunch of guerillas fighting against the British back during the Revolutionary War. Now, there is a Francis Marion University down in South Carolina, too. But it just seems to me and Parks that a retired history professor like you would have realized he was talking about the man, not the school.”
“Well, there you have it,” Carl said with a laugh. “A simple misunderstanding. I was talking about Francis Marion University. In fact, I think I said something about all colleges being different but each having something to offer.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Weber said. “But you know what else kind of bothered us? You said you taught at Ladycliff College in New York.”
“Yes, I did. What’s your point, Sheriff? Why the interrogation?”
“You said something about dealing with all the longhairs and anti-establishment types when you were teaching. And you said you never looked at those pretty coeds in their miniskirts,
and kids going to college to party and avoid the real world.”
“Is that a crime, Sheriff? Okay, I admit it. I’m guilty. Maybe I did notice those miniskirts a time or two. Arrest me.” He tried to laugh it off, but his smile disappeared when Weber spoke again.
“Ladycliff College was in Highland Falls, New York. It was a private Catholic women’s college and it closed down after the 1980 school year. So that means you would have retired when you were, what, about 30 or 35 years old? I had no idea that college professors made that kind of money. But then again, I didn’t know those good Catholic girls were allowed to wear miniskirts. Or do a lot of partying. And all those anti-establishment kids you were complaining about? Highland Falls is also where West Point is located. I just don’t see all of those cadets carrying picket signs that say Make Love, Not War, do you? I’d think the Army might not take too kindly to their future officers doing that.”
“You’d be surprised what good Catholic girls do. Or what kind of guys they attract.”
“You’re not a peacenik like those hippies you were talking about, are you, Carl?”
Carl was obviously getting irritated when he asked, “What the hell does that mean?”
“Were you ever in the Army? Or the Navy, or whatever?”
“No.”
“See, that’s something else that has been bothering me for a while now. For a guy who never spent any time in the military, and apparently doesn’t know much about guns, you bought a custom Kimber .45 at a swap meet? That’s a serious pistol. It retails for over a thousand bucks. And you loaded it up with Glasers? That’s specialized defense ammo, Carl. How does a guy like you even know about a gun and ammunition like that? It’s like a sixteen year old kid from a farm going out and buying a Ferrari for his first car. Why wouldn’t you buy a cheaper revolver that is easier to use? And you’re a hell of a shot, too, Carl. All of us were impressed with how close those bullet holes were in that escaped convict you shot. Shooting under stress like that? I don’t know if any of us could have done that well. In fact, Deputy Reed mentioned that very fact. About how good you did. How’d you do that, Carl?”
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