I Gave You My Heart, but You Sold It Online

by Dixie Cash

  “Allison. I hope we didn’t wake you,” Dr. Sinclair said. “We were trying to be quiet.” He came to her and gave her a hug.

  “Allison, sweetheart, how are you?” Mrs. Sinclair asked. “Did you sleep all right? Was it too cold? There are extra blankets in the linen closet at the end of the hall.” Dot Sinclair’s instincts for Southern hospitality were impeccable.

  “I slept fine. Don’t worry about me.” Allison scanned the kitchen for sign of a clock.

  “It’s ten-thirty,” Dr. Sinclair said, interpreting her action.

  “Ten-thirty! Good heavens, I never sleep that late.”

  “There’s coffee,” Mrs. Sinclair said. “Help yourself. You know where the cups are.”

  “We didn’t see your car out front,” Dr. Sinclair said.

  As Allison poured a cup of coffee she related the catastrophe with her car and the fact that a friend had given her a ride into town.

  “Oh, bless your heart,” Mrs. Sinclair said. “Bob, give her some money.”

  “Heavens, no,” Allison said. “It isn’t your fault I hired a mechanic who should stick to repairing tractors and lawn mowers. I’m just grateful to have a place to stay.”

  “You can drive my car while you’re here.” The doctor pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and began to remove two. “Dot and I’ll share.”

  Allison did need transportation and renting a car was beyond her means. “Well, if you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble.” She took the keys.

  “If y’all will excuse me,” Mrs. Sinclair said, “I’m going to take a shower.” Stopping by Allison’s chair, she placed a weathered hand on her forearm. “The bereavement dinner is at six at the church. You’re planning on being there?”

  “Oh, yes.” She took a seat opposite Dr. Sinclair at the table. “I don’t know how to tell you—”

  “Excuse me just a minute, Allison.” Dr. Sinclair cocked his ear as if he were listening for noises from the bedroom. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the kitchen. He returned carrying a computer disc in a clear plastic case.

  “Sorry, Allison,” he said. “I wanted to make sure Dot was in the shower.” He offered the disc. “I want you to take this to Mike Jackson as quickly as you can. This morning. Don’t say anything to anyone about it. Dot doesn’t even know it exists.”

  Allison took the disc. She had never seen him so intent and serious about anything.

  “Of course, but what—”

  “A little over a year ago someone broke into the house we’re renting, er, or were renting to Monica. Mike said it was apparent the would-be thieves were looking for drugs. Everyone thinks doctors carry a pharmacy around with them.”

  “Yes, I remember when that happened, but—”

  Dr. Sinclair raised his palm. “Let me finish. My insurance agent advised me for my own safety and protection against litigation to install a video security system. You know, proof that someone actually broke in to steal the drugs instead of me selling them.”

  He shook his white head. “What a world we live in. Anyway, I bought a system and had it installed without telling Dot. I knew it would unnerve her. She thought the tree-mounted cameras were motion-detection lights. They take shots at quarterly intervals, front north and south, then rear north and south. Each disc stores a month of activity. I changed discs before Dot and I left on Thursday. It’s possible that on this disc is Monica’s…is the incident.”

  Allison felt a flutter in her heart at the realization of what she had in her hands. “Oh, my gosh. Then it’s possible—”

  She held her breath for a moment, then laid the plastic case on the table and folded her hands in her lap, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask her to view the tapes.

  “I want Mike Jackson to view it,” Dr. Sinclair said. “Would you please take it to him? I can’t—”

  “I’ll get dressed and do it right now.”

  The doctor opened his briefcase and removed a catalog-size mailing envelope. He picked up the disc, dropped it inside the envelope, and handed it to her. “Thanks,” he said. “Oh, and let me get your cell number.”

  She had never longed for a cell phone, but on this trip, every time she turned around, she needed one. She ducked her chin. “Gosh, I don’t have one.”

  “Then take mine. I’ll use Dot’s.” The doctor removed a cell phone from his briefcase and handed it to her. He also handed her a business card. “The number’s on this card.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Sinclair.”

  Allison carried the cell phone and the precious parcel into the bedroom, set it on the dresser, and stepped away, staring at it. She suddenly wished that Tag were here. She felt a desperate need for a stronger hand than hers to carry out this request.

  She dressed in a denim dress she had brought from Almost the Rage and was gone from the house before Mrs. Sinclair came out of the bathroom.

  It would be good to see Mike Jackson again, she thought as she drove to the sheriff’s office. They had always been friends and she hadn’t seen him since she left Haskell more than two years ago.

  The first thing she noticed when she pulled up to the courthouse parking lot was the empty parking place reserved for the sheriff’s car. Betting to herself that he just might still be there, she went in and was met by Lantana Tanner.

  Allison made a silent groan. The three-hundred-pound receptionist hadn’t changed. Lantana had had that job for more years than Allison had been alive. The woman knew everything that went on in the county, and what she didn’t know she made up. Allison would have to be very careful what she said to this human gossip disperser.

  Lantana let out a shriek as if one of her family members she hadn’t seen since birth had arrived. “My Lord, would you just look who’s here? Allison Barker. You back for the Hunter girl’s funeral tomorrow? Wasn’t that just the most horrible thing? You’ve put on a little weight, sugar, but you’re still just as pretty as a new baby calf. I’ve never thought weight was such a terrible thing for some women. You’re one of the lucky ones that can carry it well. Big-boned women are so fortunate.

  “How’s your mama and that poor little girl of yours? Did you ever figure out who her daddy is? Did he ever come back and offer to help you with her? It was so brave of you to stay here and have that child the way you did, what with everybody talking about you and all. I couldn’t have done it myself. But then, I’ve always placed too much emphasis on being proud.

  “I love that little dress you’ve got on, sugar. I swear, some people are just able to wear a feedsack and look just fine. What can I do you for?” She smiled like the Cheshire cat.

  Allison had forgotten about Lantana’s machine-gun delivery of insults. How she could say that much without taking a breath was baffling. Allison wasn’t quick enough to put her in her place, but then that was impossible because Lantana felt her “place” was wherever she stood.

  Choosing to ignore all the questions, Allison looked over Lantana’s head and around the room. “Is Mike in?”

  “No, sugar, he just left. Had to go up to Wichita Falls. He’ll be back about six. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Allison was thinking in triple time. What should she do? She wanted to be at the church by six o’clock. Yet she didn’t want to appear too evasive to Lantana. The gossipmonger would land on that like a horse on hay.

  “It’s really nothing,” she said, going for aloof. “I found this disc in some of my stuff that I never got around to unpacking and realized it belongs to Mike. It’s just some of the high-school football games from back in ’92. I had them put on a DVD disc. I figured he might like to have it back.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a DVD player here. We could watch it. I’d almost forgotten he played football. He was such a good-looking boy. Now he’s big as a buffalo and nearly as hairy. But then I guess he was already fat when you left Haskell, wasn’t he?”

  Allison leveled a glare at Lantana. “I’ll just put it on his desk.”

  “I’ll be h
appy to do that—”

  “No problem, Lantana. I’ll do it. I might not get to see him before I leave town and I want to write a note to him.”

  Stepping around the woman, Allison walked into the sheriff’s private office, wondering where she had found the nerve to defy Lantana Tanner. She grabbed a piece of paper from a little square leather box of blank notepaper and picked up the pen lying on the desk blotter. She wrote a note explaining what the disc was and its potential, then folded it, placed it in a legal-size envelope, sealed it, and wrote MIKE JACKSON across the front in bold letters, underlined for emphasis. She slid the smaller envelope inside the larger one Dr. Sinclair had given her, licked the flap, and sealed it. She placed the large envelope squarely in the middle of the desk blotter and walked back to the reception area. “I’ll call Mike this evening and ask if he got the disc and the sealed note I left.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear from you. He doesn’t get a lot of calls from women. You’d think he would, being divorced for all the years he has been.”

  Allison remembered when Mike Jackson and his wife divorced. Her leaving him for a Coca-Cola truck driver from Abilene had been one of Haskell’s scandals. “Yes, well—”

  “And him having such a good job and all, too,” Lantana went on. She shook her head and sighed. “He’s probably got money in the bank, too. Did I say he’s fat as a hog?”

  “Yes. Yes, you did. I’ll be sure to mention that to him, also.”

  Allison left. She would call Mike before she left for the church, but she wasn’t worried that the tape and note wouldn’t find their way into his hands. Lantana Tanner might act like a fool, but she wasn’t one.

  PEEKING BETWEEN THE venetian blind’s aluminum slats, Lantana watched Allison get in her car and drive away. When her car was out of sight, she went to the sheriff’s desk and examined the manila envelope.

  Darn, it was sealed. But it was still moist in places. She slid a letter opener along the edge of the envelope’s flap. Inside was a DVD and another envelope too tightly sealed to tamper with.

  She removed the disc and looked at it. It looked homemade all right. Hmm. She would love to watch it, but a movie of some old football games and some high-school memories wasn’t worth her job. The only other job in town that was frequently available was at the Dairy Queen. At her age she wasn’t about to start flipping burgers.

  The sheriff had already had a stern talk with her about prying and gossiping about what went on in his office. She was on her last leg with him. She decided to leave the disc alone, but good grief, the manila envelope had been opened and closed so many times the adhesive was gone and the flap was bent and wrinkled.

  She laid the tape and envelope containing the note in the middle of the desk blotter and crumpled the larger envelope into a ball. She would just pick up another manila envelope on her lunch hour. Thank goodness she had time.

  MERLE WAS HUNGRY and tired from patrolling the area all morning. His mom had put a sandwich in his backpack and some chips. He sure would like a Dr Pepper. There were cold drinks in the icebox in Sheriff Mike’s office and he had said they were for everybody.

  Merle had waited until he knew Miss Lantana would be gone to lunch. He didn’t like her. She teased him and asked him questions that made him nervous. She also laughed a lot and sometimes he thought she might be laughing at him. He tried his best to stay away from her.

  He stuck out his left arm to indicate a left turn. He was a good driver and always obeyed the highway safety rules. It didn’t matter that he didn’t drive a car. It was still important to let others know your intentions.

  He parked his pride and joy near the sheriff’s-office entrance, then took a chain out of the basket and threaded it through the spokes. Sheriff Mike had told him if he did that no one could take it again.

  Some mean person had stolen his bike before and left it on the train tracks to be run over. Sheriff Mike had bought him a brand-new one. He had even gone to the auto department in Wal-Mart and bought paint the same color as the county vehicles, and all by himself he had changed the bike to look like an official deputy’s car. Merle had completed the project by duct-taping a CB antenna to the rear fender. He had never been so proud in all his life. He knew he wasn’t a deputy. He wasn’t smart enough for that job, but he was the sheriff’s helper and he took great pride in that fact.

  He took his cold drink and sandwich to a chair close to Sheriff Mike’s big desk. He would never sit in the big chair with rollers on the legs. Only Sheriff Mike could sit in that chair.

  Before he had taken a bite of his sandwich, he saw a DVD and an envelope. Uh-oh, he was in trouble. Once before he had brought his portable TV with a DVD player to the sheriff’s office at night to watch some movies. He had only done it so he would be close at hand in case he was needed. When he told Sheriff Mike what he had done the sheriff told him he didn’t want him coming into the office at night again. If someone saw the lights they might stop and ask for Merle’s help and that would make it look like the sheriff wasn’t doing his job.

  Merle would never make Sheriff Mike look bad and he had never come in at night again, but apparently Sheriff Mike had left a movie behind and Miss Lantana was going to get him in trouble. She had written a note. He didn’t read well, but he could make out the sheriff’s name on the front and it was even underlined.

  Merle broke out in a cold sweat. He had to do the right thing. He would never let Sheriff Mike down. Not ever. He placed the DVD and the note in his backpack. He would return the movie to the video store after lunch.

  Miss Lantana might think she was smart, but he was smarter. Way smarter.

  twenty-six

  At a quarter to six, before leaving for the bereavement dinner at the church, Allison made a call to the sheriff’s office. Perhaps Mike had returned early. The recorded message instructing her to leave a number told her otherwise. She sighed. She couldn’t be comfortable until she knew Mike Jackson had the surveillance DVD in his possession.

  “Hi, Mike, this is Allison Barker. I’m staying at the Sinclairs’ house. Please call me to night. It’s extremely important.” She left her temporary cell number and disconnected.

  For all she knew, Mike was watching the DVD this very minute. Perhaps he was even on his way to apprehend the murderer. Or, in the worst-case scenario, the camera had missed the event altogether. Lord, she missed the dull, drab life she used to have.

  Coming to a stop in the Great Hope Baptist Church’s parking lot brought back a flood of childhood memories. Years of Sunday school, vacation Bible school, and singing in the choir. During her childhood, what the schools didn’t provide in entertainment, the church did. Times were so different now.

  Allison entered the church basement to an array of food laid out on folding tables. The ladies of the church auxiliary customarily prepared a meal for grieving families. She hadn’t eaten all day and was starved. There was a large platter of ham and several green-bean casseroles with broken bits of canned onion rings swimming in mushroom soup. A variety of Jell-O dishes in various stages of unjelling were overshadowed by a bounty of desserts.

  Guests were gathered in little knots discussing the events that had unfolded over the past few days. Low conversations came to a halt when Allison neared. She felt lonely and isolated. She was an outsider, no longer part of the town.

  She overheard a couple say that Quint Matthews had posted bail earlier in the day and had been released to await a trial date. He was later seen having coffee with two women and another cowboy in a local restaurant.

  Quint had to have been having coffee with Debbie Sue, Edwina, and Tag. She had to tell Debbie Sue and Edwina about the video. She reached for her cell phone as she looked for an exit from the church. Outside, she dialed Tag’s number.

  “Yo. Tag Freeman.”

  Allison gripped the phone and spoke. “Tag, this is Allison, I need to tell you something.”

  When she had finished the story about the surveillance DVD, Tag s
aid, “My God, Allison, we’ve got to make sure the sheriff gets that envelope tonight. Where are you now?”

  “I’m at the church, at the bereavement dinner. Do you know where the sheriff’s office is?”

  “Yeah, I was just there this morning.”

  “Meet me there in fifteen minutes.” Allison closed her phone. It started ringing immediately.

  Hoping that Tag had forgotten to tell her something endearing, she flipped open the phone and spoke softly. “This is Allison.”

  “Allison Barker,” Mike Jackson said. “What a surprise. How long has it been?”

  Allison smiled. “Too long, Mike. I wish I had called you under more pleasant circumstances, but I have to know something. Have you been to your office this afternoon?”

  “That’s where I am now.”

  “Great. Have you had a chance to look at the DVD I left for you?”

  Silence. Too long a silence for Allison’s blood pressure.

  “What DVD?” he asked.

  Allison felt she might faint. She told Sheriff Jackson the story, concluding with, “And when I left your office, it was on your desk.”

  The playful classroom buddy of old was gone and in his place was the voice of authority. “How far are you from here?”

  Allison told him she was at the church.

  “Great. Come to my office as quick as you can.”

  When Allison reached the court house, an entourage was waiting—Debbie Sue, Edwina, and Tag. She left Dr. Sinclair’s car and walked toward them.

  “Good God, sugar,” Edwina said, “you look like death chewing on a biscuit.”

  Allison couldn’t hold back tears. Between gulps she told the trio what had happened.

  “Well, standing out here isn’t getting anything done,” Debbie Sue said. “Let’s go see what the sheriff’s got.” She started for the sheriff’s office.

  Sheriff Jackson looked up when the three entered. “I’ve already called my receptionist, Lantana Tanner, and told her to get down here. She was here all afternoon. She’s got to know something about the envelope and the DVD. I could’ve asked her over the phone, but if I had, everyone in town would know about it before I hung up.”