The Deputy's Witness

by Tyler Anne Snell

  The sound of rain and thunder continued in chorus for several minutes. Alyssa kept her eyes off Missy, since the gunman seemed to be looking in her direction every few seconds, but she prayed the woman had made the call to the cops. After another few minutes, Alyssa came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

  But then Alyssa spied movement on the other side of the glass doors and several things happened all at once.

  The gunman had started to turn toward the doors when she found herself speaking up again.

  “He really needs a doctor soon,” she said, drawing his attention toward her.

  He opened his mouth to talk just as his partners came back into the lobby.

  “Cops,” the woman yelled.

  The gunman at the door didn’t hesitate. He whirled around.

  Then the gunfire and screaming started.

  All Alyssa had time to do was throw herself over Robbie and hope she’d live long enough to tell her sister that, for once, she’d had her cell phone right when she needed it.

  Chapter Two

  Caleb Foster cursed something awful.

  “How do you even function out here in this?”

  Deputy Dante Mills let out a laugh.

  “You get used to it,” he said. “Just one of those things.”

  Caleb, a man who’d spent the majority of his career—and life—in Portland, Oregon, might have been okay with the blanket heat that the small town of Carpenter, Alabama, was throwing at him, but its humidity was another problem altogether.

  It was one thing to be stuck in the heat. It was another to feel like you were drowning in it.

  “I don’t want to get used to this,” he said sourly. He didn’t care if Dante heard him. Ever since his transfer to the Riker County Sheriff’s Department had been approved one month ago, he hadn’t been making it a secret he was unhappy. Not that he’d had much of an alternative option, though. “I want some air that doesn’t make me feel like I’m swimming standing up.”

  Dante chuckled. “You city boys sure do complain a lot.”

  Caleb was about to ask what his partner’s definition of “city boy” was when they came to a stop in the parking lot. He decided he’d ask that question later. Right now he was concerned about why the sheriff had called him in minutes after their shift started. He might not have wanted the Alabama weather, but he did want his job.

  The Riker County Sheriff’s Department stood between the local television station and the county courthouse, all three in the very heart of the town. With two stories and faded brick and concrete, the department faced one of Carpenter’s main streets and was subsequently always busy. This was a familiar sight for Caleb, and while he wouldn’t admit it to any of the other deputies, the busyness made him a little less homesick.

  He followed Dante through the front doors and into the lobby. A pretty blonde dispatcher named Cassie, who was rumored to be as tough as nails when needed, was in the center of the room talking to another woman. Both had cups of coffee in their hands.

  “Hey, guys,” she greeted, cheer clear in her tone. “Happy Monday!”

  “There’s no such thing as happy Mondays, Cassie,” Dante pointed out, though he smiled as he made the little quip. It seemed the whole of the department functioned like that. One person saying something, only for another to add on something equally clever or nice. Most of the time it was inside jokes or references beyond Caleb’s knowledge. He tried not to let it bother him. He was the new guy, after all. Plus, once he was done with his time in Riker County, he’d go back home. So what if he wasn’t in sync with his colleagues now? He hoped it wouldn’t matter in a few months or, God forbid, a year.

  “I’m going to go see the sheriff,” Caleb said, nodding to the two women. “I’ll catch you after.”

  “Good luck,” Dante called after him.

  Caleb hoped he didn’t need it.

  He walked out of the lobby and down the hallway where the offices were located. The sheriff’s was smack in the middle, nameplate auspiciously brighter than the others. Caleb slowed, stilling himself. He knew he was more on the pricklier side of a good personality. Quiet too. So far he hadn’t met anyone in the department with the same disposition. Again, he didn’t mind if the rest of them didn’t like him. However, he did want the sheriff to find him at least agreeable. He tried on a smile that felt forced before knocking on the doorframe of the open door.

  “Come in.”

  The muscles in Caleb’s smile tightened as soon as he saw the man hunched over his desk.

  Billy Reed by no means should have been an intimidating man. From first glance he was too tall, too lean, and had dark hair that was too long. Maybe that was just Caleb’s opinion bleeding through, though, considering he was the opposite of the sheriff.

  At five-eleven, Caleb was a man who believed in the gym as much as he believed that anyone with a clipboard on the sidewalk ready to talk about political candidates or a chance to win a cruise was supposed to be ignored. With his solid shoulders, trim body and a hard jaw, the only thing that looked remotely playful about him—according to his sister—was his golden hair, cut close but still with enough curl to annoy him. He sported a goatee but had been playing with the idea of shaving it since he’d come to town, as it was just another thing that made him hot in an already hot-as-hell town. Luckily, he still looked his age of thirty without it. He knew the sheriff was on the young side too—especially for his position—but Caleb couldn’t read the man to guess an accurate age. Billy Reed was a mystery, while Caleb was the kind of man who looked like “what you see is what you get.”

  It was apparent that everyone in the department not only respected the sheriff, but liked him. And just as quickly when the man gave an order, it didn’t matter if anyone was his friend or not. Everyone listened without skipping a beat.

  So when he told Caleb to take a seat, Caleb took the seat without arguing.

  “I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Reed started. He threaded his hands on top of the desk. “I’m pulling you off patrol and putting you at the courthouse.”

  Caleb opened his mouth, ready to complain—respect and authority for the sheriff be damned—but Reed stopped him. He held his hand up for silence. “When Chief Thomas called me and asked if I had a spot for you, I was skeptical. But I’ve known Thomas a long time and he’s a good judge of character, so I looked past what happened and gave you a chance. But while you’ve done a good job so far, being new has its own set of demands.” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder to point back at the wall behind him. “That includes pulling courtroom deputy when I need you to.”

  Again, before Caleb could protest, the sheriff handed him a newspaper. A picture of a storefront with caution tape across it took up a spot above the fold.

  “Almost a year ago to the day, three armed suspects used a storm as a cover to try to rob a bank a few miles from here,” he started. “There were nine hostages, including bank employees and a security guard who was shot when they entered. A woman inside was able to get a call out to us, but when we arrived the suspects opened fire. In total, three people were killed, including one of the gunmen.”

  Caleb could tell by the way the sheriff’s expression turned to pain that the other two deaths had hurt. In a small town like Carpenter, he’d probably known the victims personally. Something Caleb was in no way used to. When he was a cop in Portland, he’d dealt with mostly strangers. Their indiscretions hadn’t affected him outside of his having to deal with them as his job.

  The sheriff seemed to collect himself. He pointed to the newspaper again.

  “The trial takes place next week and it’s going to draw a lot of attention,” he continued. “I’m adding you as backup, along with the current court deputy, Stanley King.”

  “Wait, so I’m not even lead court deputy?” Caleb had to interject. It was bad
enough he’d lost his reputation and his position in Portland. Never mind he had to be transferred to keep from being completely jobless. But now he was expected to go to the bottom of the totem pole to not even being on the totem pole?

  Sheriff Reed didn’t bat an eyelid.

  “I’ll be out of town during the beginning of the trial, as well as Chief Deputy Simmons and lead detective Matt Walker, or else I would be over there too. But as it stands, I’m looking to you,” Reed said. “This may not be your dream job, but it’s what you have and you can either complain about it or impress me. After what happened in Portland, any good marks on your résumé will help.”

  Caleb wanted to argue but knew he couldn’t.

  The sheriff seemed to realize he’d made a good point. He grinned. “And, hey, look on the bright side. Air-conditioning!”

  * * *

  ALYSSA WAS ANGRY. She was nervous too, but mostly angry.

  Standing outside the county courthouse, she was dressed in her best and ready to finally testify against what locals had dubbed the “Storm Chasers.”

  After the gunfire died down a year ago, she’d thought the terror was over. She’d focused on moving past that day and trying for a happier existence because of it. But then the nightmares had started. In them she’d seen the dark eyes of Dupree Slater, the taller gunman, hungry for violence, peering down at her. No regard for life. Especially not hers. Thinking of him and his only living partner left, Anna Kim, she still felt a flood of fear beating against her mental dam of calm. That dam didn’t always hold, despite the fact that both Dupree and Anna had been in custody for a year, but today she needed it to keep its place.

  She shook her head, trying to physically get rid of the way Dupree’s dark eyes seemed to try to eat her whole.

  But then, just as quickly, thinking of him led to the image of his partner, a man named Kevin Bates, lying dead on the floor a few feet from her. Farther away one of the bank tellers, Larissa Colt, and a local patron, Carl Redford, lying in their own pools of blood. Gunned down before the deputies could save them. They’d all been so afraid. The fear lingered to this day.

  And just like that, Alyssa’s familiar fear was replaced with anger.

  Alyssa hadn’t known Larissa well and she hadn’t met Carl officially, but she knew that they had been good people. Their deaths had been senseless and cruel. Both had rocked the community.

  Alyssa took a deep breath and righted the purse on her shoulder. She was here for them, for herself and for Carpenter as a whole. Justice needed to be had. And it was now or never.

  She walked through the double doors into the courthouse, knowing she was early but ready to get it over with. Her mind was tearing through a hundred different thoughts, trying to find a happy one to stave off her growing anxiety. So much so that she lost focus on what was right in front of her.

  “Hey,” a man said. The voice was deep and even and snapped her out of her own thoughts. She turned her attention to a man standing next to the set of metal detectors that visitors had to pass through to get into the courtroom. Alyssa did a double take.

  His Riker County Sheriff’s Department uniform and the belt lined with cuffs and a holster for his service weapon gave him away as a courtroom deputy. However, his job designation wasn’t what made her mentally hiccup.

  The first word that clawed itself out of her mind was hot. It was such a quick, unexpected thought that heat began to crawl up her neck.

  With a tan complexion that reminded her of caramel, green eyes rimmed with gold, golden hair that looked ripe for twisting with her finger and a jaw that had been chiseled straight from a statue, the deputy wasn’t what she’d expected to see in the courthouse. Or in Carpenter. Let alone addressing her directly.

  “Excuse me?” she said lamely, hoping he hadn’t somehow heard her thoughts.

  In turn the deputy didn’t seem to be distracted by her looks, to her slight disappointment, but was motioning to her purse with no real enthusiasm. She looked down at it, confused, until he explained.

  “I need to look inside it before you can go into the courtroom.”

  The heat crawling up her neck made its way into her cheeks. She was half-certain she could boil water if you put a pot of it against her skin. It had been a long time since she’d blushed with such intensity, as if she were some schoolgirl.

  “Oh yeah, sorry about that.” She handed him the purse, fumbling a little in the middle, and watched as he opened and inspected the inside of it.

  Alyssa averted her eyes to the doors a few feet from her. The deputy might have been unexpectedly attractive, but one look at those doors and that novelty was being replaced with nerves again.

  “Are there a lot of people in there yet?” she asked the lone deputy.

  He looked up from her purse, seemingly okay with it, and passed it back to her. He nodded. “More than I thought would show up this early. But I think a lot of them just came for the show.”

  There was distaste in his words and she agreed with it. Small towns equaled big reactions to anomalous events. Good, bad or otherwise. Plus, somehow the robbery felt intimate to her. An experience no one understood unless it had happened to them. She could understand the loved ones of those who had been inside the bank, but for the people who showed up for the basic need for gossip, she held no love.

  Alyssa took her purse back and inhaled a big breath. She started to walk forward but found her feet hesitating.

  “Dupree Slater isn’t in there yet, right?” she asked just to make sure. The deputy’s golden brows drew in together. “He was one of the gunmen.”

  The man who survived, she wanted to add.

  “No. He won’t be escorted in until the beginning of the trial.”

  Alyssa exhaled. At least she had a few more minutes to collect herself before she saw her own personal nightmare in person again.

  “Are you a family or friend of his?” the deputy asked. “Of Slater’s?”

  Alyssa felt her face draw in, eyes narrowing into angry slits, before the heat of anger began to burn beneath her breast. Without giving her mind permission, she thought again of what had happened in the bank. Like a movie scene left on repeat. The spot on her back began to burn in unison with fresh anger, as if it had been lit on fire and she was forced to bear the flames.

  No, she didn’t want to be associated with Dupree Slater ever. Not as his friend. Not as his family. And most certainly not as his victim. That thought alone put a little more bite into her response than she’d meant.

  “I am not a part of his family and certainly not his friend,” she almost hissed. “I’m here to testify against him.”

  She didn’t wait for the deputy to respond. In fact, she didn’t even look for his reaction. Instead she pitched her head up high and marched into the courtroom. Ready to get the Storm Chasers and the damage they’d done out of her life. She wanted to move on and leave that nightmare behind.

  No.

  She needed to.

  Chapter Three

  Caleb was perplexed. Not a word he often thought about but one that fit the bill as he watched the courtroom doors shut behind the woman. He’d been at the courthouse since it opened, and she had been, by far, the most interesting part of his Monday. And he doubted she even meant to be interesting.

  The analytical side of his brain, the skills in reading body language and social interactions that he liked to think he’d honed through his career, had locked on to her expression, trying to read her. To figure her out.

  She had run a gauntlet of emotions across her face in the span of less than a minute. Fear, concern, anger, defiance and something he hadn’t been able to pin down. A mystery element that snagged his attention. Then, as quickly as she’d shown up, she was gone. In her wake a taste of vulnerability that had intrigued him even more.

  Who was s
he?

  And why did he want to know?

  “Was that Alyssa?”

  Caleb spun around. He was surprised to see an older man dressed in a suit standing so close. Caleb hadn’t heard him walk up. Leave it to a beautiful woman to break his focus so quickly. Though, if he was being honest, that hadn’t happened in a long time.

  It was Caleb’s turn to say “Excuse me?”

  The man pointed to the doors. “The woman you were just talking to, was it Alyssa Garner?”

  “I didn’t catch a name,” Caleb admitted.

  “Oh, I thought you two knew each other. I saw you talking when I walked in.”

  Caleb wondered why the man cared but still explained. “I asked if she was a family or friend of Slater’s, one of the gunmen from the robbery.”

  It was like something was in the water in Carpenter, Alabama. As soon as the name left Caleb’s mouth, the man’s expression darkened. Unlike the woman, the man stayed on that emotion. If his skin had been lighter, Caleb would bet it would have been red from it. That was what rage did. Turned you raw. Caleb knew what that looked like—felt like too—and the man was suddenly waist-deep in it.

  “You know, she had the same reaction,” Caleb had to point out. Again the cop side of his brain was piqued. He wished he’d done more research into the robbery other than reading the newspaper article the sheriff had given him. Then again, it wasn’t a necessity for him to research a case he wasn’t a part of. Especially since he’d get a recap from the future proceedings.

  “You’ll find no love for that man in this town. Not after what they did. Not after what he did.” The man touched a spot on his chest. “You know, his partner, Anna Kim, shot me, and I still hate Dupree more.”

  Caleb couldn’t stop his eyebrow from rising.