A Field of Poppies

by Sharon Sala

  “Here are the socks, and when you need more there’s a whole drawer of them in Daddy’s dresser.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come with me this morning?” John asked.

  “I’m sure,” Poppy said, and kept on walking with the diary tucked under her arm.

  A short while later John left, but not before making her promise if she needed a ride anywhere to give him a call.

  Chapter Eleven

  John was still struggling with his conscience as he drove through the streets of Coal Town. There was no way he would have ignored Poppy’s plea to come home, but he couldn’t get past the feeling that he’d come back too late. One night he’d gone to bed and the next day half his family was dead. If it wasn’t for her, he would officially be an orphan - grown, but nevertheless, alone in the world.

  He was angry - sick in the deepest part of his soul angry – for not coming back, but the rage he had for the coward who killed his father was another kind of anger. The kind that could get a man into all kinds of trouble, and he couldn’t give in to that rage. His days of indulgent behavior had to be over. He’d walked out on his mother when she needed him most, but he couldn’t do the same thing to Poppy, so there would be no heroic gestures to try and avenge his father, or anything else that might get his ass thrown in jail.

  He was shocked as he drove past the park where he and Poppy used to play. It looked as derelict as the rest of Coal Town. Only one swing set left, but with all the seats broken and dangling, and a large capped pipe that was once the base for a teeter-totter. Calling it a park now was a joke. The only activity that went on here now was probably drug deals after dark.

  It was the thought of drug deals that led his thoughts straight to Aaron Coulter. It had barely been twenty-four hours since he had called him. He was anxious for Aaron to call back, and at the same time, reminding himself not to put too much hope in a man on the wrong side of the law.

  Someone honked as he stopped at a stop sign. He turned to look, recognizing the man in the passing car as a member of their church. He waved, and as he accelerated through the intersection, a warning light and a repetitive chime suddenly sounded inside his truck. He glanced down. The gas gauge was sitting on empty, which prompted him to turn right at the next corner. It took him straight to Millwood’s Gas and Grocery. As he was pulling up to a pump his cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Johnny. It’s Aaron. Where are you?”

  “Millwood’s getting gas.”

  “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

  John’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, and then the line went dead.

  He fueled up while waiting for Aaron to show, then pulled away from the pumps, parked on the north side of the station and rolled down the windows to wait.

  Less than five minutes later, a big white Hummer pulled into the station. The driver paused as if to get his bearings then headed straight for John’s truck.

  The passenger window rolled down. It was Aaron.

  “Get in,” he yelled.

  John locked up his truck and got in, pausing to eye the driver who was checking him out, as well. They gave each other the once-over, noting the changes life and time had done to their faces, and grinned.

  Aaron punched John on the shoulder. “Damn, man! Did you grow some more after we got out of school? You are one big son-of-a-bitch.”

  John rolled with the punch and then held up his hands in a gesture of defeat as he pointed to Aaron’s tats.

  “Barbed wire and skulls? Seriously, dude?”

  Aaron’s smiled widened. “Women love ‘em, man. You oughta check out a little ink for yourself.”

  “And mess up this perfect body? No way.”

  The bullshit broke the ice as they both laughed.

  “Got time for a little ride?” Aaron asked.

  And just like that, the fun was over. “Am I gonna like the destination?”

  “It’s not about the destination. It’s about the chit-chat on the way, man,” Aaron said.

  “Then hell yes, my friend. I’ve never ridden in a Hummer.”

  Aaron grinned. “A virgin! My favorite.”

  John laughed.

  And just like that, the years fell away. They didn’t talk about anything pertinent until Aaron passed the city limit sign.

  “Should I have packed a bag?” John asked.

  “We’re not going far. I just figured you didn’t need to ruin your reputation by being seen with me.”

  “I don’t roll like that,” John said.

  Aaron’s glance was quick but telling. “I know that, or I would have hung up on your ass when you called. So, I won’t keep you in suspense. I don’t have much to give you. For the most part, everyone, and I mean everyone is pretty shocked by what went down. Your old man was a straight arrow, Johnny. There was no hidden funny business.”

  It wasn’t until Aaron said it that John let go of the fear he’d been hiding - that the cops would discover his dad had been involved in something illegal that got him killed.

  “Thanks for that,” John said. “But I guess that means no one knows anything.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Aaron said. “Depending on who you want to believe, there might be a witness.”

  The news was a shock. “You’re serious? Who? Why haven’t they come forward?”

  Aaron pulled off onto a mountain overlook and parked.

  “Well, that’s just it. He’s been telling it all over Caulfield, but no one’s listening.”

  John frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Prophet Jones. Remember him?”

  “That crazy old homeless man?”

  “I don’t think he’s crazy, Johnny. He and God have just been having a difference of opinion.”

  “Don’t talk in riddles, Aaron. We’re talking about murder, here.”

  “Yeah, I know, but to understand where I’m coming from, you have to know Prophet’s story. Did you know he used to be a preacher who lived by the Word and did everything right? Then his wife and kids are in their car on the way to church one morning and get t-boned by a truck from Caulfield mines. They die and the cops ruled that the driver was not at fault and walked away without a scratch. Prophet lost it. He couldn’t believe God would let someone as pure as his wife and kids die, and let the man who killed them go unpunished. He began preaching in his church about the devil in the city. Everything connected to Caulfield Industries was ‘the devil’. You’ve heard him. He did it for so long that it got his ass tossed out of the church. That’s when he went postal. They took away his church and pulpit, so he took it to the streets.”

  John’s frown deepened. “Yeah, but you can’t believe anything he says. He’s crazy, Aaron.”

  “No, not crazy. He believes to this day that Adam Caulfield bought off the cops so Caulfield Industries wouldn’t have a wrongful death suit on their hands. So in his mind, anyone associated with the company is in cahoots with the devil.”

  “But what does that have to do with Dad’s murder?”

  “All of Prophet’s latest sermons have a single theme, which is that the Devil was on the bridge the night your daddy died. He says he saw him.”

  “I don’t get it,” John said.

  “You haven’t been paying close enough attention. The only devil in Prophet’s world is associated with the name Caulfield. And that’s not all. I was told that he has something from the crime scene. He calls them the Devil’s footprints.”

  “What the hell?”

  Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s got, but if it was me and this was my old man who’d been killed, I would follow up on any and everything I heard that might lead me to the killer.”

  John’s head was spinning. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “You don’t have to think, man. That’s all I got. Just take what I said to the cops and see what happens.”
<
br />   Aaron put the Hummer in gear, made a u-turn on the highway and headed back to the city. They were mostly silent on the drive back but when Aaron pulled up to Millwood’s and stopped by John’s truck, John extended his hand.

  “Thanks, Aaron. I owe you.”

  Aaron clasped it, felt the calluses and the strength and knew a moment of regret for the path he’d taken, but then it was gone.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Johnny. We were friends.”

  John frowned. “We still are, Aaron.”

  Aaron shook his head. “No, man. It’s not in your best interests to be friends with me, but I appreciate what you’re saying, okay?”

  John’s heart was heavy as he got out of the Hummer. By the time he got back in his truck, Aaron was gone.

  He didn’t know what to make of Aaron’s news, but he would tell the cops what he’d learned. It remained to be seen what they would do with it, but time was passing. It was already close to 10:00 a.m. and he had yet to figure out who he needed to see to get permission to view his father’s body. His best guess would be the Caulfield P.D., and since he intended to talk to them anyway, there was no time like the present.

  ****

  The precinct was in something of an uproar. Someone smelled gas in one of the offices, which prompted an evacuation of the entire building, and now the fire department and people from the gas company were on the scene. The parking lot was standing room only and spilling over onto the back lot of the local community center with employees from the building.

  Amblin and Duroy were on the other side of Caulfield, unaware of what was happening back at the department. They had been running down another lead on Prophet Jones that had gone nowhere and their frustration level was at an all-time high.

  “I don’t get it,” Kenny muttered, as Mike braked for a red light. “Prophet was always on the streets or in the park. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing him. The crazy bastard was all over the place and now he’s suddenly AWOL. What’s that all about?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said, and then heard a spate of frantic traffic on their radio. “Listen to that,” Mike said.

  “Something big is going down at the precinct.”

  The listened a few moments more, then Kenny slapped the dash in sudden disbelief.

  “Holy shit! They’re evacuating the building because of a gas leak! We better get back.”

  Mike ran hot all the way back, with flashing lights and siren screaming to find the building had already been barricaded and the parking lot and adjoining properties full of employees, waiting for the all clear sign.

  “That sucks,” Kenny said.

  “It’s still in one piece. It could be worse,” Mike said.

  They parked about a block away then walked back to find the lieutenant from homicide in street mode, directing traffic along with a couple of uniformed officers.

  “Look at that,” Kenny said. “He hasn’t lost his touch.”

  Mike was eyeing the building when he heard someone call his name.

  “Hey, Detective Amblin.”

  He turned toward the crowd as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out and walked toward him. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him.

  “Yes, I’m Amblin.”

  “I’m John Sadler, Jessup Sadler’s son.”

  Poppy’s brother. What surprised him was that he recognized him.

  “You were a couple of years behind me in school, right?”

  John nodded. “Poppy said you’re in charge of my dad’s case. Can we talk?”

  Mike looked around for his partner, but he was on the other side of the street.

  “Yeah, sure. Want to walk back down the street to my car so we’ll have a little privacy?”

  “My truck is right there. Will that do?” John said, pointing to a dark, late model truck only two cars down from where they were standing.

  “Absolutely,” Mike said.

  They walked without talking, waiting until they were inside the truck.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” Mike said.

  John nodded. “Poppy said you’ve been really kind to her. I want to thank you for that.”

  Mike flashed back on her collapse at the bridge. “No problem. She’s had a rough two days. It’s good you’re here now. How can I help you?”

  “I have something to ask you, and something to tell you,” John said.

  “Ask away.”

  “I want to see my father’s body.”

  John nodded. “That can be done. He’s still at the morgue, but I’ll take you there myself.”

  That was easier than expected, which left John with the story about Prophet Jones.

  “Now as to what I have to tell you. I have a friend here in Caulfield, a friend who knows the kind of people who don’t talk to cops, and I asked him if he’d heard any street talk about who killed my dad.”

  Mike’s interest shifted from Poppy’s brother to business. He’d take a lead, no matter where it came from.

  “And?”

  “He said there’s someone in Caulfield who’s been talking about the killing ever since it happened, but no one’s listening.”

  Mike frowned. That wasn’t possible or they would have heard it. “If someone is talking, they’re not talking to us. Who the hell is this witness supposed to be?”

  “Prophet Jones.”

  The skin crawled on the back of Mike’s neck. Once again, the old man’s name had come up regarding the murder, and from yet a different source. What if this actually backed up the two car thieves’ claim?

  “Who’s your source?” Mike asked.

  John shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who told me. It’s what he said that matters. Do you know Prophet Jones’ story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know how he got the way he is?”

  Mike frowned. “Yeah, he went crazy after his family died, right?”

  “The guy I talked to said Prophet isn’t crazy. He’s just on a mission to see justice done. As for his family, do you know how they died?” John asked.

  “A wreck I think. Why? What does all this have to do with your father’s murder?”

  “Let me lay it out for you, then you do what you will with the information, okay?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “So here’s what I know,” John said. “Prophet used to be a preacher. His family was killed by a man who drove a truck for Caulfield Industries. The man was never charged. Basically walked off a free man. Prophet believes Adam Caulfield bought off the cops at the time so that the company would not be sued for wrongful death.”

  “That’s not-“

  John held up his hands. “Look, this is all before our time. Just let me tell the story the way it was told to me.”

  Mike frowned. “I’m still listening. So Prophet blames Caulfield. Then what?”

  “Being a preacher, when the law let him down, he took his grievance to the pulpit, calling Caulfield and anyone associated with him, the Devil. That cost him his church and so he took to the streets, still preaching the same message. And, according to my source, Prophet Jones is saying he saw the Devil on the bridge the night Jessup Sadler died. He says the Devil killed him. Prophet took something from the crime scene that he calls the Devil’s footprints. I don’t know what that means, but it could be evidence. The old man could have seen it happen and took something afterward for proof.”

  Mike felt blindsided. He’d seen Prophet on the bridge during that rainstorm and even then the old man had been saying the Devil was on the bridge. He’d ignored the rant. But now-

  “Are you implying that Justin Caulfield murdered your father?”

  “I’m not implying anything, damn it. I’m just telling you what I heard. Besides, Adam Caulfield did not kill Prophet’s family, but he blames him for getting the killer off, so, I guess in his mind, anyone associated with the family could be the Devil.”

  “Okay, I see what you mean. We’ll d
efinitely check out what you’ve told us. As soon as we can locate the old man, we’ll bring him in for questioning.”

  John sighed. “Thanks.”

  “It’s our job,” Mike said. “Listen, let me go tell my partner where we’re going, and then I’ll take you to the morgue, okay?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll just follow you in my truck.”

  “Yeah, sure. Give me a sec.”

  John watched him get out and jog back across the street to talk to his partner, then head to the next block to get his car. A few minutes later he drove past and honked. John pulled out into traffic and followed the dark, unmarked car to the city morgue.

  ****

  As soon as John left the house Poppy got a fresh cup of coffee and settled into the living room in Jessup’s recliner. The chair had taken on the shape of Jessup’s body. It was as close to a hug as she would ever have from him again. After a sip of the hot, steamy brew, she opened the diary to the first page.

  This diary belongs to Sunny Roberts, age 17.

  It hurt Poppy’s heart to think of her mother at that age – how happy she must have been with her life stretching out before her. She wondered what that Sunny might have done differently if she’d known her life would be cut so short.

  She flipped through page after page of childish entries, most of which dealt with who she was mad at, and who was in trouble, and how stupid a certain teacher was, and why she would never go out with someone named Tommy if her life depended on it.

  The phrasing made Poppy smile. She could almost hear her mother’s voice just by the way she turned a phrase. There wasn’t anything in the diary entries which would have given Jessup a reason to hide the fact that he was reading it. She was beginning to believe that he’d hidden it simply because he was reading something that belonged to his wife without having asked her permission. He’d probably found it looking for articles of her clothing to take to the hospital, just as Poppy had found it while looking for socks for John.

  Still, Poppy wasn’t going to stop reading. This was like getting to know a completely different side of her mother and she intended to treasure it along with the memories she would keep. Poppy read some more, noting the passing of time by the dates of the entries. It was, after all, her senior year – a remarkable time in any girl’s life. Then just after school resumed from Christmas break, the tone of Sunny’s entries began to change.