Shotgun Moon

by K. C. McRae

  Lauri really wasn’t her problem.

  She opened the door and her boots touched asphalt. She walked with slow steps toward the two-story brick building. As her fingers curled around the old wrought-iron stair railing, she looked up at the ancient bars over the windows that had once been part of the original jail. Their Old West grimness now screened wide-open, double-paned inserts that allowed light and air into the main station. The jail proper was now in the basement.

  A shriek from inside lacerated the air and she was up the short stairway and through the door.

  The sudden dimness slowed her steps, and the clammy, air-conditioned atmosphere smelled of scorched coffee and Pine Sol. Shirlene’s angry voice and then another, shorter cry of frustration and fright drew her past the unmanned reception counter and four cluttered desks to an open doorway.

  A long wooden table surrounded by chairs dominated a glorified conference room. Lauri sat sideways at the table, black streaks of mascara dribbling down to her jaw line. She didn’t look much older than when Merry had last seen her so much as … harder. Harsher. She wore too much makeup, heat and tears melting and mingling it like a box of crayons left too close to a radiator. In her teens, Lauri’s long brown hair had glinted with streaks of gold, but now the chunky layers around her face were dyed a flat, whitish yellow.

  Shirlene glowered at the man who stood on the other side of the table. He matched her glare for glare. His pendulous gut hung over the tightly cinched belt of his uniform, and his large flat face radiated a dangerous crimson. He clenched and unclenched his spatulate fingers into meaty fists by his sides.

  At one end of the table a skinny woman with large breasts and wide eyes held a pen poised over her notebook. A tape recorder rested on the table in front of her.

  “What’s going on here?” Merry asked from the doorway.

  The beefy man’s head jerked around. She became aware of what she must look like: holes in her jeans, dried mud on her battered boots, dark hair a tangle of uncombed curls, no makeup.

  “I heard a scream.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Really.”

  “Merry?” Lauri sounded like a little girl. “Make him stop?”

  She met her cousin’s eyes and saw fear and vulnerability beneath the dregs of makeup. When she looked back at the policeman, his eyes narrowed in recognition.

  “Merry McCoy.” He grated out her name.

  She felt the blood drain from her face, then return in a sudden flash. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around the doorjamb at her aunt.

  “What happened?”

  Shirlene spluttered. “He badgered her. He threatened her!”

  “Sarge?”

  Merry jumped at the word, the speaker so close behind her that his breath moved against her neck. Her lips parted in surprise as she turned her head, though in that split second she’d already recognized the voice: Jamie Gutierrez. The muscles across her back eased a fraction, and she found herself able to take a deep breath.

  “The girl’s hysterical. The mother’s not helping, either.” The fat guy, who Merry assumed was Sergeant Hawkins, shot a surly look

  at Shirlene. “She’s gotta go so I can finish questioning the daughter.”

  Jaime took a step to stand next to Merry. He smelled like sage and leather. She took a deep breath as the sudden image of the last time they’d been together flashed across her mental movie screen. “Mind if I sit in?” he asked, giving her arm a surreptitious squeeze.

  “Yeah, I mind,” Hawkins said. “How ’bout you make yourself useful and get your friend out of here instead.” He jutted his chin toward Merry.

  Jamie’s face reddened. Merry looked at the floor and swallowed the retort that rose to her lips.

  “Sergeant Hawkins, if I could speak with you for a moment?” The voice came from somewhere behind them, beyond the cluster of desks.

  Merry looked over her shoulder, saw a tall figure standing silhouetted in an office doorway. The voice and bearing suggested power.

  Hawkins scowled. He lumbered out of the conference room, hitching up his pants and pooching his lips. Merry moved aside to allow his passage, trying not to wince at his sour breath.

  She turned to Jamie in the doorway. “Lauri needs a lawyer.”

  “She’s just a witness.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Merry …”

  “Don’t ‘Merry’ me. She doesn’t have to tell you anything.”

  Jamie’s look held so much sympathy she wanted to smack it off his face. Either that or cry. She set her jaw.

  “Officer Gutierrez?” The same voice that had summoned the sergeant.

  Jamie turned and walked to the other side of the room. She had to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing his arm as he left, his presence a comfort in this unfortunately familiar and unpleasant environment of law enforcement. In the conference room, Lauri snuffled.

  Shirlene hushed her in a maternal tone, raising her eyes to meet Merry’s.

  Merry leaned in. “You guys okay?”

  Mother and daughter both nodded. Lauri’s lip quivered, and she snuffled again. Merry looked at the female officer at the end of the table, and she nodded, too, her eyes showing a lot of white.

  “Who’s the bossy one?” Merry gestured toward the men with her chin.

  “That’s the chief,” the policewoman whispered.

  Hawkins raised his voice and Merry looked back at them. He jabbed a stubby forefinger in her direction several times, punctuating what was no doubt a delightful tale about her past. Then he pointed at Jamie, who responded with a threatening step forward. The police chief shook his head and said something to both of them.

  Hawkins stomped off. Jamie threaded his way through the gray metal desks, stopping in front of her.

  “I’ll handle this. But you have to go.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Merry. Stop it. You need to leave.”

  Across the room she saw the tall man watching their exchange. His unapologetic stare never wavered.

  “Trust me,” Jamie said in a low voice. “Please.”

  Well, shit. When he put it like that …

  Sergeant Hawkins reappeared. He didn’t smile so much as bare his teeth at her. “Checked in with your parole officer yet?”

  She looked at Shirlene, whose face was creased with worry. With the slightest movement, her aunt shook her head. Merry shoved her shaking hands in her pockets and walked to the door.

  Hawkins’s voice followed her. “I’ll be checking in with you, McCoy. Count on it.”

  She exited the station without looking back at him.

  And continued around to the side of the brick building until she was just under the open window of the conference room.

  The rough wall scratched the back of her bare arms as she flattened against it, but at least she was out of the hot midday sun. And from the street, no one could see her listening.

  Jamie’s clear voice came through the screen above Merry’s head.

  “Don’t be frightened, Lauri. I know you’ve had a shock. But we really need your help. Do you think you could help us?”

  Silence.

  “If you could just tell us about this morning, then we can get on with doing our job, and your mom can take you home. How does that sound?”

  Merry thought she heard Lauri hiccup.

  “Can’t I do it later? I want to go home now. Please don’t make me think about …” A soft sob.

  “I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I understand how you feel, but we have to know what happened. The faster you tell us, the faster you can get out of here.”

  “Just tell him, hon.” Shirlene’s voice echoed Jamie’s firm tone.

  “Okay. Jeez.” A pause. “I wasn’t due at work until one. So I went over to Clay’s this morning to talk to hi
m …”

  “What time?” Jamie asked.

  “About ten. Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Go on.”

  Lauri sighed. “No one answered. So I got the key and opened the door.”

  “You have a key to his place?”

  “I said I ‘got the key.’ Why would I say that if I already had one? I knew he kept an extra key under a rock by the side of the house. I got it and went in.”

  “Okay, you went in. What then?”

  “I didn’t see anyone. So I went back to Clay’s bedroom …”

  “You went straight to his room?”

  “Well …”

  “Yes?” he said.

  “I might have gone into the kitchen.”

  “How about the living room. Did you stay there very long?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m trying to determine how long you were there. And I want to know where to expect your fingerprints in the house.”

  Shirlene said, “Come on, Lauri. Just tell him. What did you do, shake the place down?”

  Lauri hesitated. “Well, no. I might have looked around a little bit. But I didn’t take anything, if that’s what you mean.”

  “What? Lauri—”

  Jamie interrupted. “Please, Mrs. Danner. If you’re going to be in here, you need to be quiet and let your daughter tell her story.” Then apparently to Lauri: “So you looked around a bit.”

  A sniffle. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe opened a drawer or two, looked in a closet …”

  “Um. Yeah.”

  Merry closed her eyes and shook her head. Not good.

  “Nadine? Would it be easier to transcribe from tape?” Jaime asked.

  Merry heard the policewoman say, “It sure would. I’m having a hard time keeping up.”

  “You don’t mind, do you, Lauri? Make life a little easier for Nadine? You were saying you looked around Clay’s place once you let yourself in …”

  “Yeah.”

  “Please continue.” His voice became formal, and Merry guessed the tape recorder had been turned on.

  “I … I looked around in the kitchen, opened some cupboards, and looked to see what was in the refrigerator. Just beer and some leftover spaghetti. He really needs …” A long pause. “… needed … someone to take care of him. She sure didn’t do a very good job.”

  “She?”

  “That woman he hooked up with. Barbie Barnes. Anyway, I checked out the living room. I, um, opened the desk drawer, or maybe more than one. I was looking for a pen and paper so I could leave a note.” Lauri sounded defiant despite the tears in her voice. “That’s why I looked in the entertainment center, too. Just in case that’s where he kept them. I had to go to the bathroom, so I went in there. And I opened the other bedroom door.”

  “The other bedroom door?”

  “Yeah. His roommate’s, I guess.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I went into Clay’s bedroom.” A long pause. “At first I thought he was asleep.”

  “He was on the bed?”

  “Yeah. I thought it was kind of weird that it was so late and he had all his clothes on. It was like he’d passed out or something.”

  “Did Clay drink much?”

  “He didn’t drink at all.”

  “Drugs?”

  “He hated all that stuff. Something to do with how his mom died.”

  “Okay, what did you do then?”

  “I turned on the light. To wake him up.” Lauri’s voice quavered.

  Everyone waited. Merry picked at a cuticle and watched a beetle circumvent the edge of a puddle near her foot, tensing for what was coming next.

  “He was all bloody. There was blood all over the bed. It was so dark! His eyes were open, and …” Lauri’s voice faded as she spoke. The last few words came out little more than a whisper. “It was awful.”

  Merry’s hand crept to her throat as she tried to pushed away the memory of Zeke’s blood when she’d pushed him off of her—dark, yes, but also weirdly bright as it soaked into her clothing and smeared across her skin.

  “I know this is hard,” Jamie said. “There’s only a little further to go. Let’s just get through it so you can go home.”

  Lauri took a deep breath. “So I called Mom. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I know to call 911, but for some reason I didn’t think of it. I just thought that since Mom volunteers at the clinic and everything she would know what to do about Clay. She told me to stay put and …” The rest disappeared into choking sobs.

  A click. Probably the tape recorder being switched off.

  Jamie said, “That’s fine. I think we’ve got what we need. Nadine, will you take Lauri to the restroom so she can recover a little? Then I’d like you to take her fingerprints before she goes.”

  Shirlene said something Merry couldn’t hear.

  Jamie said in a gentle tone, “It’s standard procedure, Mrs. Danner. Oh, and Lauri? Thanks for your help.”

  She responded with a fresh bout of weeping. The sound receded, then a door clicked shut and cut it off altogether.

  “I need to hurry, Jamie,” Shirlene said. “She’s a mess, and I want to get her home.”

  “Just a few questions. When did she call you?”

  “At ten fifteen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I had my eye on the clock because I was watching for the UPS man. I’m out of solvent and couldn’t get started on the dry cleaning until it came.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Like Lauri said. I told her to go outside and wait for the police. Then I called 911. I shut down the machinery and closed the shop, which takes about ten minutes, and headed over there. The paramedics had already arrived when I got there. Then that dickhead sergeant showed up and told us to follow him here.”

  “What happened when you got to the station?”

  “He put us in here. We waited for a while. I went out front and called Merry. Then he came in and started asking Lauri where she was last night, and what she and Clay had fought about.”

  Merry swore under her breath. Hawkins obviously disliked her, but that didn’t make him a bad cop. Still, she didn’t trust him one iota.

  “He didn’t even give her a chance to answer before he was asking her something else, or yelling at her,” Shirlene said. “What the hell is his problem?”

  Jamie sighed. “It’s just the way he operates. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, thank God you took over. You need anything else from me?”

  “No. As soon as we have her prints, you can take her home. We’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

  Merry heard them leave the room, but stayed where she was on the off chance she’d overhear Jamie or Hawkins say something about Lauri. All she heard were indistinct voices. Tilting her head, she strained to discern the words. She tried standing on tiptoe and closing her eyes.

  “Don’t let Rory Hawkins catch you out here.”

  She whirled at Jamie’s words. He stood two feet away from her.

  three

  Jamie gave her a lopsided grin.

  “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?” Merry said, trying to ignore the spurt of adrenaline whipping through her vitals. And more than adrenaline. The tiny kernel of desire shocked her. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like it that she almost didn’t recognize the feeling. “How’d you know I was here?” she asked.

  “Where else would you be?”

  She began to retort, but he held his finger to his lips and led her toward the back of the building. His usual bouncy step was uncharacteristically devoid of bounce. He paused next to a mud-brown dumpster in the alley.

  “Eavesdrop
ping can go both ways,” he said.

  The hot odor of decomposition boiled out of the garbage bin. They moved farther down the alley and stopped behind the Rexall Drugstore.

  Merry finally allowed herself to smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes first, then exposed his straight white teeth, bright against summer-dark skin.

  “You look great, Mer.”

  Just in time, she stopped her hand from moving up to her hair, an instinct she’d thought long forgotten.

  Jamie’s grin dropped away, and he let out an exasperated whoosh of air. “Rory Hawkins could be a real problem.”

  “Why’s he got such an issue with me? I’ve never even met him before.”

  “He’s a friend of Rand’s.”

  “Oh.”

  She felt an odd weakness in her legs, and locked her knees so they wouldn’t buckle.

  “Oh,” she said again. “I thought Rand left town.”

  “He did. He’s in Wyoming from what I hear.”

  She nodded slowly in relief. “Still conning landowners for his father.”

  Her ex-husband worked for his family’s oil company, convincing ranchers and farmers to part with their mineral rights so Daddy could come in and pump out the crude.

  “But Hawkins and he got to be pretty good buddies before he left,” Jamie said. “So naturally, Rand’s side of Zeke’s death is the only one he knows.”

  “Sergeant Hawkins is a misogynistic prick. Rand’s side’s the only one he could understand.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Believe me,” Merry said. “I know the type.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just be careful, okay?” The platinum band on his left hand flashed in the sunlight. A sudden arrow of jealousy surprised her.

  “Yeah. Okay.” She tore her gaze from his wedding ring. Reaching out, she touched his forearm with her fingertips. His skin was hot from the sun. “What kind of trouble is Lauri really in?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Her behavior is suspect—letting herself in, searching the place like that.”