by Joyce Lavene
“Jack, huh?” Hunter asked. “Have you actually been charged with anything?”
“No. I guess it might be like a person of interest thing. The sheriff gave me this information, but he still has my gun.”
“Probably checking ballistics. Do you want me to come back up? I can be there in a few hours. I don’t like that you’re there alone.”
“I thought about going home for the weekend,” Sarah admitted. “But I can’t get involved with anything there until I can clear this up. I guess I’ll just stay here until Monday.”
“What about this man who’s hanging around your farm? You said the sheriff didn’t question him about Mr. Burris’s death.”
“Not as far as I know,” Sarah said. “Jack was right there with me when the first shot was fired. I don’t think he was responsible for it, even though he’s incredibly annoying. But I don’t know for sure. It could be some elaborate set up.”
“You could probably get a no-trespassing warrant against him,” Hunter told her. “If he’s squatting out there, I’m sure the sheriff would get him off if you pressed it.”
Sarah looked at her freckles in the hotel room mirror. “I know. But I feel sorry for him. I don’t know what happened to him, but he thinks he’s protecting the property for my grandparents. He thinks they’re coming back.”
“That sounds like a problem. And the sheriff doesn’t think Jack had anything to do with your grandparents disappearing either?”
“No. He’s just good old Jack. It’s a weird situation. My mother should’ve kept up with what was going on out there all these years—or sold the place. This is so unlike her. She doesn’t usually ignore problems or have butter fingers. You might be right about how she really feels.”
“I’d be careful out there anyway. This guy might seem harmless, but you don’t know that he didn’t kill your grandparents in his search for the gold and then take out Mr. Burris because he knew about it.”
“I’m probably not going out there again until Monday. I’ll get a new phone and catch up on some work with my laptop here at the hotel. It’s lucky that I can work from anywhere.”
“Just watch your back,” Hunter said. “The whole thing sounds kind of scary.”
“Thanks. I will.” Sarah wanted to tell her friend about the teenage Jack that she remembered, and that first awkward kiss. But she didn’t mention it. She didn’t want her friend to give up her weekend to come to her rescue.
There was a coffee shop close to the hotel. Sarah was ready to get out of the room for a while.
She ran a comb through her hair. It didn’t seem to like the time she’d spent outdoors or the dip in the river. It was standing up all over. She twisted it into place and secured it on the back of her head.
Her skin was pink from the extra sun, and she swore she had a few more freckles than she’d started out with. She wanted to go home and leave all of this for Dusty or her mother. It was turning out to be a lot more than she’d thought it would.
But she had to see it through. It had to be done right this time.
She was going to get a replacement for her wet phone first, she decided. Then she could sit at the coffee shop and take a look at it. She thought about what Jack had suggested about putting the phone in rice. If the idea had come from anyone else, she might try it. At that moment, she wanted to put Jack in rice.
It was a strange, naked feeling not having her phone with her. She felt out of touch and frequently stuck her hand in her pocket or handbag to check it, only to find it wasn’t there. Funny how people had grown so dependent on them. She couldn’t wait to get hers back.
The surprisingly friendly clerk moved her information from her data card to another phone. Sarah was glad she frequently backed up her pictures and other important items. New phone in hand, she went to the coffee shop only to find a dozen messages from various people. Her mother had left several messages, and so had Clare. Sheriff Morgan had left the most recent message.
Sarah got a mocha latte from a good-looking barista who flirted with her by licking whipped cream from his finger as he gazed into her eyes. She was smiling on her way to the table as she returned the sheriff’s call.
“Looks like we’re not gonna luck out and find the rifle that was used to kill George. We got a tip that it was hidden in some brambles on your property, but there was nothing but some shell casings and candy wrappers. We got a few smudged prints off that stuff. I was wondering if you might consider coming out here and giving us a few fresh prints.”
“My fingerprints? Seriously?” Her voice got loud in her frustration, and people at a nearby table stared at her. She lowered her tone. “So I’m actually a suspect?”
“It’s mostly just to rule out your prints from the ones we found, create a baseline of people we know were there. We’re having some difficulty getting a copy of your prints from Senator Rosemond’s office in Richmond. They should be on file, but we’re getting stonewalled. I can’t make you do this, Ms. Tucker, but it could help us out. We both want the same thing, right?”
“My prints aren’t on any candy wrappers or shell casings you found on the property, Sheriff Morgan.” She took a deep breath to get a handle on her irritation. “But I’ll be glad to come out and be printed if that will help.”
“That would be a big help,” he replied. “We’re going to dust for prints in the house too. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the same prints in there that are on the shell-casings.”
Remembering the weapon Jack had described from the sound the shot had made, Sarah asked, “Do you have a ballistics report yet, Sheriff?”
“I do,” he agreed. “The weapon that killed George was a Ruger 77/357. It’s a specialty rifle.”
“It has a loud report,” she returned. “Jack said that’s what it sounded like.”
“Guess he’d know. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Sarah got in her car after finishing her coffee and sat at the wheel for a few minutes before starting it. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. The situation was beginning to scare her. How had Jack known what rifle Mr. Burris was shot with? She’d told the sheriff what he said, why didn’t he think of him as a potentially dangerous suspect?
She didn’t know what to do. What if Jack came after her next because she still planned to sell the land?
Calm down. Take a deep breath.
As far as she knew, Jack didn’t drive. If she couldn’t convince the sheriff to question him about Mr. Burris’s death, she could at least stay away from him. Maybe she could find another way to come at this problem with Jack and Sheriff Morgan being buddies. There were always other law enforcement agencies to consult with, right? With a new perspective on the matter, Sarah started the car and drove toward the sheriff’s office, following the directions from her GPS.
The building was red brick with a flat, tarred roof. There were dozens of brown sheriff’s cars parked around it with dozens more civilian cars. She grabbed her bag and looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t have to be nervous about going in there.”
But the words didn’t comfort her. She still had butterflies in her stomach. She forced herself out of the car and into the office. People were waiting in the dozen or so straight-back, wood chairs in front of a big counter. Behind the counter were desks and county sheriff personnel.
Before she could take a seat, Sheriff Morgan saw her and personally escorted her to the other side of the counter. He showed her to a seat in a small interrogation room and offered to get her some coffee. Sarah stared at a pair of handcuffs that were on the table next to her.
They aren’t for you.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Tucker.” He returned with another woman in uniform. “Dee Dee will take your prints, and then we’ll talk, okay?”
He was still just as friendly as he had been before he was looking for her fingerprints. Maybe he really was just ruling her out as a suspect. Maybe he didn’t thin
k she was guilty of anything.
Dee Dee was nice too. She was very gentle as she carefully put each finger on the ink pad and then rolled them on a piece of paper with Sarah’s name and social security number printed on the top.
“This is to clean your hands.” Dee Dee gave her a wipe to get the ink off. “That’s all there is to it. Just relax, and the sheriff will be right with you.”
Sarah’s hands were cold as she cleaned the ink. What was it about being here that made her so nervous? She’d had to go to police stations in Richmond all the time for various reasons. This was no different.
Jack should be down here too.
Sheriff Morgan returned. “Sorry about that, Ms. Tucker. I had to make sure everything was done that could be done. I don’t like having a killer out there laughing at me. It doesn’t give the people faith in their sheriff.”
“I assume that means my fingerprints weren’t on the casings or candy bar wrappers?” She held her breath. Of course they weren’t there.
“No, ma’am. I didn’t expect to find them, but like I said, just being thorough.” He shrugged and sat opposite her at the table.
“I know I keep saying this—but what about Jack? Have you checked his fingerprints? He knew what kind of gun was fired at George. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“As a matter of fact, it does. We know the two of you were there from your statements. I can’t think of any reason you or Jack would kill George Burris, but sometimes people do strange things.”
“So you had someone bring Jack down here and checked his fingerprints too?” She just wanted to make sure he understood what she was asking and it wasn’t just a ‘feeling’ of his that Jack wasn’t guilty.
“I get your point.” He smiled. “But I didn’t have to bring Jack in to check his prints. There was some chicken stealing going on a few years back, and people thought it might be him. The computer found his fingerprints in the military database. He wasn’t the one stealing chickens, by the way. And I don’t think he had anything to do with your grandparents’ disappearance. He was in school that day, living with his father in the next county over.”
“Oh.”
“I know Jack and his prints. He didn’t kill George Burris, but he does know his weaponry.”
Apparently there were actual reasons why the sheriff trusted Jack. She’d thought it was more a blind trust the way he’d said it, but it seemed to be something else. What was it about him that everyone liked and trusted him so much? She couldn’t see it.
“Let me ask you a thing or two. Did you notice anything when George was killed? I know you heard a shot that was loud. Jack said the two of you hit the dirt at that point. Then there was another shot.”
She nodded. “And the glass broke. Jack had my gun and left me there to see what was going on. He told me not to get up. It was too dark to see anything except for the light in the living room. When he came back, we went into the house and found Mr. Burris on the floor with the file beside him.”
Sheriff Morgan nodded as he doodled on some paper, not looking up at her. “Which was the file you gave me that held all the information about treasure hunting on your property—is that right?”
“As far as I know.”
“Yeah. Jack has a thing about people coming out there wanting to dig holes on the land. I’ve found more than one trespasser tied to a tree. It’s been a long time. I thought maybe that was all over. But I guess a legend about a trunk full of gold never goes away.”
“Why is he staying there like some human guard dog? No one is that faithful to a promise.”
“I think you should ask him yourself.” Sheriff Morgan got to his feet. “You’re free to go, but like I said, leave your contact information in case we have any other questions.”
“You already have it, and I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone was surly.
He chuckled. “Thanks for coming in, Ms. Tucker.”
Sarah left quickly, glad to be finished with that business. She didn’t know what to make of Jack. He was either a crazy man or someone very dedicated to her grandparents. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t see him again.
She checked her messages and found a text from her mother. MEET YOU AT THE FARM TONIGHT. NINE-THIRTY. DON’T BE LATE.
Why was she coming down from Richmond? Did she want to take over the sale of the property because she thought Sarah wasn’t doing a good job?
Not looking forward to a visit from her mother, she stopped for gas at the Quik-Chek in Misty River. If the cashier knew everything that was going on, maybe she had information about Mr. Burris’s death too.
Sarah was pumping gas when a rusted brown pickup pulled next to her.
A woman with sun-kissed brown hair stuck her head out the window. “Is that you, Sarah?”
“Yes.” What now?
“It’s me, Kathy Rankin. Remember? First time either of us went swimming naked in the river.”
She couldn’t have said anything else that would have made as much of an impact.
“Kathy!” Sarah called back. “I didn’t know you were still living here.”
“We can’t all be big shot lawyers and move to Richmond.” Kathy jumped out of the pickup and hugged her old friend. “I heard you were here and went over to the house a few times, but Jack said I just missed you each time. How are you? You look great!”
They had been best buddies when Sarah had come to visit as a child. Kathy’s parents owned the large farm on the other side of her grandparents’ property.
Swimming naked wasn’t the only time they’d bent the rules. Sometimes they got caught and Kathy would be grounded from seeing Sarah for a while. Her parents thought Kathy was a bad influence too. But Sarah knew that most of the bad things they did together came from a combination of each other’s imaginations.
“I’m fine. I suppose you know I’m selling the property.”
“Of course I know. I wanted to buy it, but Mace said it was out of my league. He said Leland Drake was offering a fortune for it. I didn’t bother going any further.”
“I haven’t signed the papers yet.”
“I know. You forgot to have your grandparents declared legally dead.” Kathy laughed. “What’s up with that?”
“My mother thought she’d taken care of it.” Sarah winced. “What about you? Still living on the farm with your parents?”
“Not exactly.” Kathy sobered. “My mom died about five years ago. My dad last year. I inherited the farm since Mark doesn’t like being outside, like Dusty never liked it. Is he still afraid of bees?”
Sarah laughed. Dusty had once encountered some bees in Kathy’s yard—her family kept bees—and had run screaming all the way back to their grandparents’ house.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he’s ever outside except for the walk between the car and the apartment or his office. What about Mark?”
Mark was Kathy’s younger brother. It was amazing how much the two boys were alike.
“He lives in Williamsburg. He does something with stocks and bonds. He’s got one of those big fancy houses next to a country club. I don’t see him much now that Dad is dead.”
The gas pump had finished filling before they’d stopped talking. Sarah put the handle back on the pump and closed the gas cap on her car.
“Hey, let’s have lunch,” Kathy said. “Where are you staying?”
“In Suffolk, but that sounds great.”
“We have to go to Burger Shack. Remember? It was always the last place we ate together before you had to leave. Let’s go.”
“Sounds good. Are the burgers and fries as greasy as ever?” Sarah laughed.
“You know it. Do you have to go inside?”
“I’m hoping to get some information from Grace, who seems to know everything around here. Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”
“She won’t tell you anything. You’re a stranger. Just a minute. I’ll go in with you.”
Kathy grabbed her handbag and left the pickup parked in the mi
ddle of the lot, blocking two lanes of traffic to the gas pumps.
Sarah laughed. Same old Kathy, but with a bigger toy than the go-cart they used to drive around as kids.
“You look great.” Kathy’s brown eyes flashed over Sarah. “No kids, huh? You look too skinny to have kids.”
“No kids. You?”
“Nope. Not yet.” Kathy grinned. “But I keep hoping.”
“You look good too,” Sarah complimented. “Are you still keeping horses? I remember when I was a kid thinking that every woman who rode horses was thin.”
“You might be right.” Kathy patted her flat stomach. “I heard once that a horse knows its weight limit and will throw you off if you’re over it. I don’t want that to happen.”
They went inside the small convenience store. Grace was there bagging beer and cigarettes for a trucker. Her brown bouffant hair style was rigid with hairspray. She grinned and joked with the young truck driver.
“Let me do the talking.” Kathy stepped in front of Sarah.
Sarah had never met Grace, but the woman was wearing a huge sparkly name tag that she couldn’t miss on her red Quik-Chek shirt. She didn’t mind Kathy stepping up to talk to her. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say in the first place.
“Hey, Grace.” Kathy flashed her a smile. “Can I have some of that Laffy-Taffy over there? The banana kind. Thanks.”
“Hey, sugar. How’s that bean crop doing? I heard you lost most of it to those worms.”
Sarah raised her brows. This woman really did know everything.
“You can’t believe what you hear all the time,” Kathy said. “But my friend, Sarah Tucker, was wondering what you’ve heard about old George Burris biting it at her house.”
Grace stared at Sarah. “So you’re the new girl, huh?”
“I suppose. But I’m not new. I’ve just been gone a while.”
“That’s right—the missing grandparents.” Grace nodded sagely.
“Have you heard anything about that?” Kathy asked.
“Nope. Only what Jack has to say about it. But that’s been a while.”
“What about George Burris getting shot out there?” Kathy paid for her candy.
