by Gen Griffin
Chapter 2
Kerry Longwood was nearly overwhelmed by an impending sense of doom as he stared at the short, squat brick building that was home to the Callahan County Sheriff's Department. A tarnished CCSD badge sat in his left hand like a lead weight.
“I reckon it’s official. We get two weeks to prove ourselves, huh?” Ian McIntyre leaned against the side of his battered S10 pickup truck and studied his own dull, second-hand sheriff's deputy's badge. He was rubbing at it with the hem of a Breedlove Automotive t-shirt in an attempt to knock some of the rust off.
“Two weeks.” Kerry glanced down at his cell phone to check the time. He wondered why he even continued to pay the phone bill. No one had called Kerry in weeks.
“I bet you ain't even nervous.” Ian raked his fingers through his strawberry blonde hair and shrugged his slim shoulders. “You're way better qualified for this job than I am. You've got a bunch of degrees, right?”
Kerry looked up at Ian in surprise. He hadn't expected the Sheriff's favorite job candidate to acknowledge his own credentials. “I have a bachelor’s degree in Criminology and a master’s in Criminal Law. I've passed all the state police certifications as well as basic firefighter and EMT courses. If I were anywhere but Callahan County, the certificates might even be worth more than the paper they're printed on.”
“What do you mean?” Ian looked baffled.
“I mean that it's total bullshit that the Sheriff has put us both on a two-week trial period. I've busted my butt educating myself to become a law enforcement officer. What qualifications do you even have?”
“All I have is the basic law enforcement certificate from Callahan County Community College.” Ian stared at his badge with a regretful expression.
“And yet, Sheriff Chasson considers us equal candidates for this job?” Kerry could hear the bitter resignation in his own voice. “I was halfway through law school when I had to move back to Possum Creek.”
“Yeah. I'd heard that. I'm sorry about your Dad.” Ian kicked at the gravel in the parking lot. His scuffed, battered boots created a sharp contrast to Kerry's own stiff, shiny loafers.
“Don't be,” Kerry said. “He was so drunk he probably never even saw the bridge that killed him.”
“Still. He was your Dad. My Dad died when I was 15. I still miss him.” Ian's sympathy appeared to be genuine but Kerry didn't want his competition's sympathy. “You moved back to take care of your Mom, didn't you?”
“Didn't have a choice,” Kerry admitted. “Mom has been bedridden since I was eight. We tried to put her in a nursing home but she screamed until her throat bled every time her sedatives wore off. The psychiatrist says she's developed a phobia about leaving the house.”
“That's too bad.” Ian probably meant it. Kerry's return to Possum Creek meant Ian didn't stand a prayer of hanging on to the badge he was holding.
“It’s life.” Kerry frowned down at the tassels on his loafers and fought the urge to tell Ian to go away. He knew he shouldn't cause unnecessary hard feelings. Ian was the only member of the CCSD who treated him like a human being. He was going to have to work with Ian until the trial period ended and the Sheriff was left with no choice except to hire him. Kerry was, without question, the best qualified candidate for the single open deputy position.
“I really need this job.” Ian rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I've been bagging groceries down at the Save 'N Shop since graduation.”
“Bagging groceries?” Kerry unconsciously clenched the badge more tightly in his hand.
“Yeah. It was Frank's – I mean Sheriff Chasson's idea for me to take the classes to become a deputy.” Ian shrugged unhappily. “He didn't know that you would be moving back to town right at the same time as the position finally opened up.”
“I was surprised when I saw it advertised.” Kerry had already suspected Sheriff Chasson had promised Ian the job well before the legally required advertisement had been published in the classifieds.
If Sheriff Chasson had been able to get away with chucking Kerry's application in the trash can and hiring Ian he would have. When Kerry had turned in his application, he had also politely informed the Sheriff that he knew his rights as well as the details of the state law that said the most qualified candidate for a public service job was the one who should be hired for state and county level jobs.
The Sheriff had responded by hiring both Kerry and Ian on with the department for a two- week trial period. He'd told them that whichever one of them proved to be the better deputy during the trial period would be hired on full time.
Kerry knew the Sheriff had meant it when he'd told him he'd be watching his every minute on the clock. Not that Kerry was too worried. He hadn't gone to all those classes for nothing. Kerry was confident that Ian's time in uniform was going to make for a very short two weeks, especially considering that his competition had spent the last two or three years bagging groceries,.
“Not that it’s any of my business, but why do you want this job?” Ian startled Kerry with the question.
“I need something to keep me busy while I'm stuck in Callahan County.” Kerry stared at the bumper on his car. He supposed the truth was as good an answer as any. Applying for the job with the Callahan County Sheriff’s Department had been Kerry's last ditch effort to keep from sinking fully into the bleak depression that had been overwhelming him since he'd left law school. Not that he thought working day-in and day-out with the same backwoods boys he'd fled Callahan County to get away from was going to be all that enjoyable of an experience. He just felt an overwhelming urge to be doing something with his life.
“Oh,” Ian frowned.
“Besides, too many innocent people around here get cheated when they deserve justice,” Kerry said. “No offense, but this is a small town, and if you're not from around here, the law around here doesn't care about you.”
“What do you mean?” Ian appeared genuinely puzzled.
Kerry closed his eyes as the familiar memory of a laughing 13-year-old-girl with dark hair and darker eyes sprung into his mind. He swallowed regretfully and pushed Casey's cheerful face out of his mind so he could focus on Ian. “I'm talking about the kids who get beat up and bullied every day after school. The families who lose everything they care about because they make the wrong person mad. I'm talking about the rapes that don't get prosecuted because the victim is from a bad family and the rapist is from a good one.”
“You think that kind of stuff happens a lot around here?”
Casey's face flashed before Kerry's eyes again. “Do you remember a girl named Casey Black?”
Ian, still leaning against his truck, blanched. “Didn't she go missing a long time ago?”
“Sheriff Chasson decided she ran away.” Kerry couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Last time anyone saw her she was going into the woods behind David Breedlove's house.”
“Oh,” Ian frowned at Kerry as he fingered the hem on his t-shirt again. A t-shirt that was advertising David Breedlove's mechanic shop. “David didn't do nothing to Casey. Those were just rumors when people said he'd hurt her. I know him better than that. David wouldn't hurt no one.”
“David Breedlove is a dangerous and cruel son-of-a-bitch.” Kerry held his badge up in the air. “I've spent every waking minute since high school studying the law. Now that I'm back here, I'm going to put what I've learned to good use. I'm here for justice. Getting justice for Casey is the first thing I aim to do.”
Chapter 3
Cal stared impassively out the front window of the diner, attentively not listening to Jo Beth’s incessant stream of chatter.
“Aunt Heather called Rachelle yesterday and just plain out asked if Tate had really told her or if she was assuming it because of everything that had happened with Julia. She said, supposedly, that she heard it from Melissa Rae. My first question was, of course, how Melissa would know anything about what was going on with Tate, since everyone knows Tate hasn't talked to her since that whole
family reunion ordeal…” Jo Beth's plump, glossy pink lips opened and closed repeatedly, showing off flashes of straight, white teeth. Every so often, the stream of chatter would pause and she would turn her big liquid brown eyes on Cal, take a dainty little bite of her fried chicken salad, and wait for him to comment on whatever bit of gossip or trivial information he had been pretending to be paying attention to.
“Kellie pointed out that Rachelle could only have done it when Ben was out of town, because otherwise it would have caused too much trouble with the driveway. At first we were like, that doesn’t even make any sense, but the more I thought about it, well, it’s like I told Mom…”
Cal was entertaining himself by staring at Main Street through the plate glass windows of the Possum Creek Diner. He was watching vehicles drive past and seeing how many of them he recognized. He hadn't missed one yet.
The plate glass was convenient because it superimposed his reflection over the view of the street, allowing him to watch traffic and Jo Beth at the same. Whenever she stopped talking and looked directly at him, he'd nod or grunt as a sign he was paying attention, and she would go back to talking.
Two trucks passed by the diner window. Cal identified the first one as Jerry Dean's Dodge Dakota and the second as Ian McIntyre's S10. A 1980s model Camaro came down the street next, looking low and sleek in the dim light provided by the streetlights. Cal held his breath for a half a second, hoping against all logic or reason that it was Gracie's car. It wasn't. The car was a couple years too new and silver instead of hunter green. Alan Brown's mid-life crisis-mobile.
Cal forced his attention back to his girlfriend, nodding without the slightest idea what he was nodding about when she paused and sucked down a couple ounces of her sweet tea.
“I was telling Rebecca that Ben probably doesn’t have anything to worry about with Rachelle, because it would be completely impractical for her to have to deal with something like that. Not to mention that Melissa Rae doesn’t know a thing she’s talking about, but really, who can expect anything else from Melissa Rae? Well, I thought the whole situation was done with, but no. Yesterday Tate calls Mom and tells her that he doesn’t know why Rebecca is telling everyone that Ben and Rachelle are getting a new house. Can you believe that?” Jo paused, looked directly at him and got no response. “Cal?”
A full-size 4x4 Ford truck was pulling into the diner's narrow parking lot. It was slate gray with a light bar on the roof and a heavy metal, state-issue brush guard with a winch bumper. The driver pulled straight up in front of the window where they were sitting and flashed the set of day-lighter aftermarket headlights that were mounted on the beefy brush guard.
“Cal?” Jo Beth was looking at him expectantly, completely oblivious to the Ford outside the window.
“Addison's here.” He gestured out the window as the truck impatiently flashed its lights again.
“Lovely. Just the person I didn't want to see. He's not eating with us.” Jo blinked in annoyance as Addy flashed his lights a third time. “Why is he doing that?”
“I don't think he's here to eat. He probably just wants to talk.”
“Hasn't he ever heard of a cell phone?” Jo glared in Addy's direction. She looked just as happy as she would have if she had unexpectedly been sprayed by a skunk. “You did tell him that Friday night is our date night, right?”
“He knows.” Cal stood up and tugged his wallet out of his back pocket. “I'm going to go see what he wants before he blinds us.”
“Cal, remember that we already have plans,” Jo's voice had a warning tone to it.
“I haven't forgotten.” He flipped his debit card out and laid it on top of the ticket the waitress had left on the table. He heard Jo's voice echo out behind him as he headed out the front door.
“I take it this means we're done with dinner?”
Chapter 4
“You had better be taking me back to school.” Gracie was scared but she tried not to let it show as Brett screeched his expensive car through sharp turn after sharp turn.
“I'll take you wherever I want to take you.” The busy, well lit roads of town were rapidly being replaced by rural two lanes and dirt roads. The speedometer needle was bouncing back and forth between 85 and 90 miles per hour. The last speed limit sign Gracie had seen said they were in a 45 mph zone.
“Like hell you will.” Gracie yanked on the door handle again. It still didn't budge. “Stop this car and let me out.”
“You're a whiny little bitch. You know that?” Brett turned the car onto an even darker, less populated road. He showed no sign of the flirty charm he'd used to entice Gracie to go out with him in the first place.
“And you're a creep.” Gracie used her anger to hide the ever growing fear she felt. She wished that she'd never left Possum Creek to come to State University. Back home, Brett wouldn't have dared treat Gracie this way. No one treated any girl this way. Not if they wanted to live.
The last guy who had called Gracie a bitch had spent the next hour picking his teeth up out of the Gas 'N Go parking lot courtesy of her older brother's right hook.
“I bet this is the only date you've ever been on.” Brett was sweating despite the chilly night air that was blasting through his open window. “You're dressed like a whore but then you act like you think you're too fucking good for me.”
“A whore?” Gracie's head was filled with white hot fury. “ I guess you're just too stupid to understand the difference between looking sexy and dressing like a whore. to know the difference. I've been on plenty of dates. Believe me.”
“Going up to the interstate in Billy Bob's truck to eat at the Waffle House doesn't count as dating.” Brett pressed down even harder on the accelerator.
Gracie blinked and tried not to let it show how much that last barb stung. She'd been called a redneck and a hick more times than she could count since coming to State University. Kelsey teased Gracie mercilessly about how thick her Southern accent was, how her favorite outfit consisted of worn soft blue jeans and flip-flops, and that she could drink Jack Daniels straight from the bottle but nearly threw up a chocolate martini.
“We aren't going the right direction to get back to school.” Gracie forced herself to focus on the situation at hand as she blinked back unexpected tears.
“Will you shut up already?” Brett was staring straight ahead and clutching the steering wheel with both hands. “We're going the back way.”
“There is no back way,” Gracie snapped. She gestured out the window at the acres of trees they were passing. There were almost no houses to be seen on the rural country road they were flying down at record breaking speeds. “Main campus is in the dead center of town, and you're driving us straight into the middle of nowhere. I grew up in the middle of nowhere. I know what it looks like.”
“You're not getting scared are you?” Brett was clearly pleased with the slight tremble in her voice.
“No.” Gracie tried to hide the goosebumps that were cropping up on her exposed flesh. She was tempted to go for her phone, but she didn't have anyone to call for help who was within 200 miles of State University. For the first time in her life, Gracie Malone was on her own without anyone to run to when things went wrong. It wasn't a particularly comforting feeling. Especially as she watched the last house on the side of the road gradually fade into nothing but rows and rows of trees.
Gracie desperately wished someone would come save her. Correction, she wished Cal would come save her. Right this moment she would be willing to deal with Cal's absolute fury if it meant never seeing Brett again as long as she lived. She'd give anything to be curled up in the middle seat of Cal's truck with his arm around her, just driving through the woods. Or up to the Cracker Barrel by the interstate for dinner. Or anywhere. Just as long as she was back with him and far, far away from Brett Parker and the rest of the snobs at State University.
Gracie closed her eyes and fought the panic that was bubbling up into her throat. She dug her fingers into her purse and searched qu
ietly for her phone. If she had to call 911 in order to get out of this mess, then she would. She had just brushed her fingertips across the top of the cool plastic case when Brett unexpectedly hit the brakes and snatched the car sideways onto a small, dark narrow side road that Gracie had not even noticed them approaching.
She slid into the passenger's side door of the car with an oomph! The side of her head hit the glass in the window and the impact brought tears to her eyes.
Brett sped up as he straightened the front wheels on the pavement.
Chapter 5
“You just wrecked any chance I had of getting laid tonight.” Cal walked towards the parking space where Addison was leaning on the hood of his county-issued truck. He was wearing a stained, wrinkled game warden's uniform and smoking a Marlboro Red.
Cal held out his hand and gestured for the pack of cigarettes before Addy even opened his mouth. The box immediately landed in his palm. He pulled a lighter that was shaped like a naked woman's torso out of the cellophane wrapper and lit a forbidden cigarette. The burn of the smoke felt good as he pulled it into his lungs.
“Thought you were quitting,” Addison said with a smirk as Cal laid the rest of the pack of cigarettes on the hood of the gray truck.
“She's already got something to be mad about tonight. What's a cigarette gonna hurt?” Cal leaned back against the Ford, staring up at the first couple of stars to appear in the clear night sky.
“Date night, isn't it?” Addison didn't even try to look sorry as Cal nodded. “You ought to be thanking me. I did you a favor.” He gestured through the window. They watched as Jo Beth scooped up the check and Cal's debit card. She toted them to the register while keeping up a solid stream of conversation with the petite brunette waitress. The waitress glanced back through the window. She caught sight of Addison and grinned, waving cheerily when Jo wasn't looking. “You need to trade that one in on a less bitchy model.”
