A Tommy Logan Story

by Darren D. Lee

  “Logan, Thomas Lee Logan.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re that war hero. Not many people from around here enlisted, but they say you did quite a bit over there.”

  “Yeah, I seen my share of scuffles, I guess. I’m just glad I made it back.” It wasn’t every day that someone knew my military service by name. Guess I was around home, after all. Real small, rural area minus the industrial complex outside of Grundy. I suppose if anybody did leave and do anything of importance, they became somewhat of a local celebrity. I pulled out another smoke and lit it. “Make sure that prick gets fined to death.”

  “Yeah, Richie has a clean record but he should be stuck with a few thousand in fines.”

  “Might want to consider getting a new parts guy. He’s a dick.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass the word along, Sir.”

  I looked back to the Lady who was staring at her car, heartbroken. “You alright?”

  “I am, but my car… My poor car.”

  “What about your cat?”

  The lady glanced to the window of her car to see the cat watching, slowly blinking its eyes at all of us. “Cheeto is fine. I should have let him claw that guy.”

  I laughed a bit at her remarks. This lady and her cat was clearly not anybody you wanted to screw around with. “I have to be going, now. Take care.”

  “You too,” she replied.

  “Be careful, Sir,” added McCoy.

  I nodded and returned to my car. Her rumbled echoed through the sleepy town as I crept back onto Old Route 460. I traveled from Tazewell County and into Buchanan. It was starting to sink in now. I was home. I was home to bury my sister. With a deep breath, I gritted my teeth. A mixture of anger and sorrow swelled within me. I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. I looked at the curvy road as I descended Shortt’s Gap. The road was starting to level out and it was abandoned. On the far side of a curve I was approaching, lay a straight stretch with a speed limit sign towards the end just before another curve. When I was young, I’d always floor it at sixty miles per hour when the curve opened up into the straight stretch and see what I could get by the time I passed the sign. Figured I’d do it one more time… For old time sake… Or some other nostalgic bullshit.

  I brought my baby to sixty, mashing the clutch and rev matching into third gear. The curve opened up and I floored it. I watched the speedometer climb rapidly. Seventy, Eighty, Ninety… I grabbed fourth gear and continue onward. One hundred, one-ten, then I passed the sign. I let off the accelerator and applied the brakes, entering the next curve. Sure enough, blue lights flashed. “Son of a bitch…” I grumbled. The one time I do something reckless, there had to be someone watching.

  I pulled over and waited for the patrol car to catch up. It pulled in behind me, and after a few moments, I heard the car door slam shut. I rolled the window down and waited for the ass chewing and traffic citation I was about to get. Nobody was hurt or put in danger other than myself during my antics, so they wouldn’t bother taking me in. Just fine the shit out of me… Maybe that was karma for lying on Richie. I always hated lying.

  “Logan,” said the familiar voice of the agent.

  I looked out the window to realize who it was. I knew the guy, went to school with him. At one point, I’d even say we were best friends. I had heard he joined the agency. A bit surprising, considering he enjoyed weed quite a bit back in our younger days. Never got caught, I’m guessing. Drug offenders were dealt with quickly and harshly. Convicted of distribution, executed. Caught using, fined and mandatory rehab for however long the judge decided necessary. Second offense using, bigger fine and rehab. Third offense… You’re out. Execution. I let out a bit of a laugh. “Agent Scott.”

  “Goddammit, Tommy,” he said, chuckling. “Only you’d be crazy enough to hit that curve at ninety miles per hour in an antique.”

  “Don’t make me get out and whoop your ass, Ronnie.”

  “You’ve been driving that damn thing since we got out of high school. I know you sure as shit ain’t poor, so why do you keep it?”

  “Sentimental, I guess.”

  “You don’t even sound like us anymore. Been up north with those Yankees for too long.”

  I laughed a bit. Ever now and then my southern drawl, twang, whatever you wanted to call it would slip out, but for the most part, I had left it behind. “Not my fault I’m not a hillbilly anymore.”

  Ronnie took a deep breath before leaning down to the window. “You know, I’m real sorry about Angel. I always liked her.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “I’m guessin’ that’s why you’re back. The boys down at the agency made quite a fuss about your transfer coming in almost immediately.”

  “Why a fuss?”

  “Probably afraid you’re goin’ to come in and take superiority, or Commander Robins’ position once he retires instead of one of us gettin’ it.”

  Robins wasn’t a common name around here. I thought he was probably just an ambitious agent who transferred from branch to branch until he finally got put in charge. Happened all the time, but those guys usually ended up being shit leaders. Didn’t know their areas or citizens well at all. “Robins? Where’s he from?”

  “Shit if I know, I don’t ask. Somewhere out west is the word. He’s like anybody else. Picks his favorites. Don’t matter to me though. I joined this outfit for the benefits. I’m up to three youngins now, and the salary keeps gettin’ better witch each one the ol’ lady pops out.”

  I burst out laughing. Ronnie hadn’t changed one bit. I’d find myself glad of that real soon. I looked up at him, a smirk on my face. “What about you? You afraid I’m going to steal some thunder?”

  “No, not really. I know why you’re here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I reckon you’re going to find whoever killed Angel and nail them to the wall.”

  “They’ll be lucky if anything is left for me to nail to the wall.”

  Ronnie let out a long exhale. He was troubled about something. “Now, Tommy. I’m going to tell you, Robins don’t seem too concerned with her being murdered. I mean yeah, they looked for evidence, and sent the body for examination… But ain’t nothing else been said about it.” Ronnie’s voice took a low and serious tone. “As big a deal murder is around here, you’d think they’d be real concerned or at least motivated to find some leads.”

  At the time, I didn’t know what to make of Ronnie’s words. The ASA was always very thorough and pursued violent criminals relentlessly until they were terminated. Dragging feet on a murder didn’t make sense. “I didn’t ask Shey any details. I figured it would be too much for her to talk about. Where did they find Angel?”

  “Her office parking lot. Twenty or thirty feet from her vehicle.”

  “How did she die?” I didn’t want to hear it. After he answered, I wished I had never asked, but I needed to know.

  “Gunshot to the back of the head. Almost like she was executed. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it was a hollow point round. There was an exit wound…”

  I cringed. My eyes shut tightly as I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. Angel executed. Not only did someone commit a murder but it sounded like it was a brutal execution. I knew right then I’d find who did this and make them pay… No matter the cost. “I’ll kill them… I’ll kill them all…” I grumbled.

  “Calm down, Tommy,” said Ronnie. “I know it’s a rough way to go all around for you and Shey… Especially Angel.”

  “Shut up,” I snapped.

  “Geeze, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Ronnie paused a moment. I didn’t mean to snap at him and I know he didn’t mean his words in a disrespectful way. I was on edge, after all he did to help… Pretty sure he understood that. “Now Tommy, I’m sure the Commander will have my ass over this… But you want me to take you to the scene? Get a look at it before anyone else screws around with it?”

  “Yes… Please.”

  “Well alright then. We�
�ll take the old access road up Little Prater. Dodge the agency and anyone on patrol most likely.”

  “Won’t there be any agents at the scene?”

  Ronnie took a deep breath before he let out a sigh. He must have known what he was going to say would irritate me. “Robins didn’t think it necessary… Just had the ones runnin’ night patrol to stop by a couple times.”

  “What?” I asked, irritated and confused. “Crime scenes, especially the site of a murder… Are supposed to be locked down with forty-eight-hour guard. That is ASA standard procedure and cannot be changed between agencies.”

  “I don’t like it either. Maybe when everything gets sorted, you can take it up with Robins.”

  “Damn right I will.”

  “I didn’t expect anything less from you.” Ronnie lightly smacked the roof of my car. “Follow me.”

  It only took Ronnie a few moments to pull back out on the highway, but for me, time stood still. I couldn’t comprehend what he had told me. Executed, brutally and the ASA seemingly not giving a rat’s ass. It was straight mind-boggling. We always dealt with crime indiscriminately. Minor offenses, you got fined. Felony grade offenses, you got executed… And no one escaped their punishment. Regardless, I knew I had to get to the scene. Detective work wasn’t my strong suit… I always found the criminal and put them down, never really had to unravel a web. Looking back, I had no idea just how thick of a web I was going to tear down.

  We traveled down 460 well above the speed limit. Around eighty miles per hour, if I recall correctly. I remember slowing for a sharp turn after crossing the bridge that ran past the coke ovens. When I was young, the glow of the fire rising from silos would light the sky. Now it was a relic of a bygone era, an industry that was mostly dead, at least in the states. We got most of our coal from abroad now, mostly Australia and China. Before you ask, it was terms of China’s surrender. Extremely cheap imports from them. Far cheaper than it was to mine and process coal for ourselves. They took a loss with each shipment of anything we received from them. That was the plan though, to cripple them economically for the foreseeable future so they would never cross the United States again.

  Ronnie led me into Vansant, a small town that lay just next to Grundy on the map… But for all of us that lived or had lived here, you couldn’t really tell where one ended and the other began. The bronze glow of the towering street lights lit everything along the road. We passed one of two gas stations that were open twenty-four-seven. A few vehicles sitting along the pumps, probably people heading out for the morning shift at one of the manufacturing plants. About a mile further down the road, we passed the empty parking lot of Food City. It was one of the only big grocery chains in the area and most everyone’s choice for shopping despite the small value store deeper into town and the Wal-Mart. We finally came to the Little Prater stop light. I looked over to the parking lot next to the highway while we came to a stop, awaiting the light to turn green. Me and all my buddies used to hang out in that parking lot back when I was young. LPPL we called it. We’d do a little bit of everything that we shouldn’t have. Drink some beer underage, plan where we were going to go party next… Jump at every vehicle that drove by in fear of the ASA. Things had changed a lot since then… Or at least I had changed a lot. The light turned green and we turned left, over the bridge that crossed the Levissa River. I slowed to a crawl, to get across the railroad tracks that lay on the other side. We crept at about thirty miles per hour up the sleepy hollow… Or “holler” as everyone around here would call it. I glanced around at the houses that lined each side of the road. Some were genuinely nice, some were cheaper mobile homes. You never could judge people on that, though. Some were in fact pretty well off, they just chose to live below their means. One thing that I always loved about this town, the people. They were genuinely happy people no matter where they were in life.

  The road narrowed as we began to ascend the mountain. It also got a bit rougher. State maintenance had all but abandoned it after a certain point. As we neared the top, you could see the glow lighting the sky. This area was once just a big clearing with a call center and a few houses that popped up while the coalfields expressway was under construction. It had all since been bought out. Now the area was a manufacturing hub with plants that covered the mountaintop. My sister’s office was in the building that the old call center occupied. The plant she kept the books for was built adjacent to it. I followed Ronnie into the parking lot. I could see the yellow tape closing off the small area. I didn’t like it. It looked as if they had just closed off the area where they found her body, not the surrounding area. That pissed me off. There could have been evidence all around the area. The more I thought, the more I hated what was going on. I pulled into a parking space next to Ronnie’s cruiser. We both got out about the same time. “Well, there it is,” he said.

  I pulled out another smoke and lit it, just before I glanced to Ronnie. He did the same and followed me towards the scene. I ran my hand along the yellow tape, just taking it all in. My sister’s final moments were spent here, in fear, helpless. I looked at the blood stain where she had been found face down. “Where’s the tape?”

  “Didn’t put none down. Said…” Ronnie paused for a moment. I guess he was trying to find a polite way to say it. There was no polite way. “Said the amount of matter would interfere with the tape.” He meant brain matter, I’m sure. You don’t take a hollow point to the back of the head without it getting very messy.

  “Bullshit!” I shouted. “That tape will stick on anything! The body should have been left until matter and other evidence had been collected! How in the fuck are they supposed determine angle? Where the shot came from without an accurate representation of where the body laid?” I let out a rage-fueled scream that echoed through the mountains. After taking a deep breath, I looked to Ronnie. “Did they at least photograph the crime scene before fucking everything up?”

  “Tommy, I don’t know. I was on duty… But I just couldn’t work the scene.”

  “Why not?” I growled.

  “You know damn well why not! I was close with Angel, I mean hell we both grew up around her! I just couldn’t stand seeing her like that, you gotta understand, Tommy.” I understood his point of view. Angel had taken us to the movies many times, along with trips to the Bristol Mall back when we were kids and teens.

  “I’m sorry… I’m just—”

  “I know, Tommy. You’re pissed off and you damn well have every reason to be. Ask Robins if he had the scene photographed. He should have.”

  “He should have done a lot of things…”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Ronnie was right to not like anything about this. I hated it. It was just too coincidental. First murder in so long and it was like they just tossed the ASA regulations out the window. I studied the scene, the splatter, and the outline. I could tell the shot was angled down and that Angel wasn’t standing when her life was taken. “She was on her knees.”

  “What?” asked Ronnie, stuttering.

  I pointed towards the angle of splatter. It didn’t travel far and was separate from the large puddle stain. Angel’s body had fallen on top of the splatter and somewhat protected it. The main pool was where her head would have fallen if she was on her knees. Her chest would have landed on the splatter. “The round entered the back of her head, close to the crown. Most likely the main body of the round exited from her mouth.” I turned to Ronnie, fire in my eyes and heart. He was right, she was executed. “Was there any fragments of the round removed from her?”

  “I don’t know… You’d have to ask James.”

  “James?”

  “He’s the coroner. He signed off yesterday evening to have her body transported to Keen Mountain for funeral preparations.”

  “What?” I shouted. “Already? No formal autopsy? That should have taken a few days at least!”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’.” I tossed my burnt cigarette to the ground and quickly lit another before I app
roached my car. “Tommy, where are you going?”

  “The funeral home.”

  “It ain’t even five yet. Ain’t nobody there.”

  “Call the director… If he doesn’t answer, go drag his ass out of bed and tell him he better be there before six.”

  “Alright, Tommy. But this is on you when Commander Robins throws a shit fit.”

  “Fuck Robins…” I wouldn’t entertain the commands of someone incompetent. I knew right then if I didn’t figure this out nobody else would. It was like nobody else cared.

  Ronnie followed me back out of Little Prater and to 460. I turned right, heading towards Keen Mountain Funeral Home where he turned left, heading towards Grundy. The funeral home was maybe twenty minutes up the road. Along the drive, I could see the dark skies beginning to lighten along the tree covered mountain tops. I traveled up the empty roads, passing Garden Creek where some of my friends had lived years ago. I had lost touch with them over the years, though. I looked at the repurposed Garden Elementary… Now a pharmacy college. It was good to see higher education in the community… Even if it did cause the cost of living in the immediate area to increase.

  I was almost there. The funeral home was on a hill just beside the highway. After pulling in, I parked under the canopy that hung over the front door. The area hadn’t changed much from when I had lived here. Still covered in trees and wildlife. I remember watching a deer poke its head out of the tree line and creep towards the funeral home. Peaceful and delicate while it grazed along the little bit of grass near the pavement.

  It was getting lighter out, the stars in the sky no longer visible. I pulled my phone out to check the time. It was almost six. I got out of my car and lit another cigarette, watching the empty highway for Ronnie, the funeral director, or anybody really. My phone vibrated. The light of the call screen shined brightly in the dim morning light, showing it was Sara. “Hey,” I answered.

  “Tommy, it’s good to hear your voice.”