Dead to Rights

by Jack Patterson

“Okay, go ahead.”

  Ray rocked back and forth slightly in his chair. “I was drivin’ by Susannah’s house when I saw Drake jump out of his car.”

  “You’re sure it was his?”

  “Ain’t nobody in Pickett drivin’ a Rolls-Royce Phantom but Drake.”

  “Okay, so then what?”

  “He stormed up the steps and into her house. He was actin’ kinda crazy, so I thought I’d stick around and watch and see what happened next. I made the block and parked off to the side of the road, well outta sight. But as soon as I got parked, I saw both of them come out onto the back porch, which I could see from where I was. He had a hoodie on and was shaking a gun at her. She lunged at him and then the gun went off, which seemed to surprise him a little bit by how he was actin’. He glanced around, knelt down next to her body for a bit, and then went back inside the house. I stayed there for a few minutes, watchin’.”

  “You didn’t try to help her?” Kelly asked.

  “I ain’t no fool. Drake’s got a gun. I ain’t got nothin’. Think I’m just gonna wheel myself over there and help her out? Nah. That ain’t happenin’.”

  “What did you do next?” Cal asked.

  “I was waitin’ for Drake to leave. Crazy fool with a gun. Who knows what he was gonna do. Once he left the house, he ran down the street and jumped in another car before he took off.”

  “Who’s car was it?”

  “Jordan Hayward’s.”

  “So, Jordan Hayward was there?”

  “Yeah. The two of ‘em ran out together.”

  Cal’s eyes widened. “So, Jordan Hayward was in the house?”

  Ray nodded. “They came runnin’ out together.”

  “But you never saw Hayward go in?”

  “Nope. Best I can figure it, Hayward went inside while I was makin’ the block.”

  “Why didn’t the prosecution ever call you?”

  “They said it’s because I was smokin’ some weed, but I ain’t stupid. Jordan Hayward being there presented some problems for them that they didn’t want to explain.”

  “And the defense? They could’ve called you as well, but they didn’t.”

  “I was told to keep my mouth shut about Hayward’s presence.”

  Cal’s eyes widened. “Even when you testified in court?”

  “Especially in court.”

  “Now are you sure it was Drake who pulled the trigger?”

  “Pretty sure. I guess it could’ve been Hayward—and maybe that’s why the state didn’t want me on the stand. Maybe they thought I would’ve created reasonable doubt.”

  Kelly took a long gulp of her sweet tea.

  “What do you think after all these years? Was it Drake?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I think so, but Hayward has a lot to gain if Drake dies.”

  “Oh?” Kelly asked.

  Drake nodded confidently. “Yeah, Hayward was the beneficiary for Drake, something I learned while overhearing them talk one night at the Pirate’s Den.”

  CHAPTER 13

  CAL WALKED TWO BLOCKS to Memorial Park, just off the Pickett square in downtown. With still plenty of people to interview, he decided to send Kelly on her own assignment while he confronted Jordan Hayward again. She discouraged Cal from doing so, but he insisted and used the assignment for The Innocence Alliance as his excuse to trump her concerns.

  “We need to find out if there’s enough reasonable doubt to at least get Drake a new trial,” he pleaded.

  Reluctantly, she had agreed with him and drove off toward her intended destination.

  When Cal reached the park around 10:30 a.m., Hayward was engaged in a pickup basketball game with a few friends.

  Cal watched intently. Hayward called a timeout, grabbed the basketball, and jogged toward Cal as soon as he saw him.

  “This is a far better activity than vaping weed,” Cal said.

  Hayward waved dismissively at Cal.

  “If you think my life is all about my next high, you don’t know me at all.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know you, but I’m trying to get a better picture of who you are.”

  Hayward laughed. “How? By talkin’ to other people? There are a lot of jealous haters in the world.”

  “I heard you were inside Susannah Sloan’s house the night she was murdered. But that’s not what you told me.”

  “I’m not under oath.”

  Cal’s eyebrows shot upward. “So you were at her house?”

  Hayward didn’t flinch. “Where’s that pretty lady friend of yours?”

  “You mean my wife?”

  “Whatever, man. It’s the twenty-first century.”

  “Well, she is my wife, not my lady friend.”

  “Whatever floats your boat. Just tell her it’s not a good idea for her to be prowlin’ around Pickett on her own, if you know what I mean.”

  “Why? Are you going to do something to her?”

  “I’m just sayin’ you better be careful. It’s not a good idea for a lady to be cruisin’ around unescorted.”

  Cal narrowed his eyes. “Why? Because you might do to her what you did to Susannah Sloan?”

  Hayward’s mocking expression turned serious. “What are you tryin’ to say, huh?” he said before shoving the basketball at Cal.

  Cal caught it and nonchalantly spun it on his index finger. “I guess maybe you weren’t shootin’ with Drake earlier either, were you?”

  “What are you—?”

  “Stop with the lies, Jordan,” Cal said before squaring up to the nearest basket and hitting his shot. “I’m on to you.”

  “There’s a snitch on every corner, even in Pickett. And they’re all trying to get their thirty minutes of fame.”

  “I believe it’s fifteen minutes,” Cal said.

  “Around here, it’s thirty.”

  “Whatever. All I know is that you’re lying to me. This story you’ve concocted feels very contrived, so much so that I refuse to believe it.”

  Hayward put his hands behind his head. “Well, you better start because I ain’t lyin’. But just you watch: Somebody will try and kill me before the week is over.”

  Cal laughed. “If they do, I’ll know it’s you faking it.”

  Hayward proceeded to double down on his story. “I never shot with Drake, and I was never at Susannah’s house the night she was murdered,” he said. “If I was, prove it. Find evidence that I was there and produce it. The truth is I wasn’t anywhere near him on that night. That much you can count on.”

  Cal shook his head. “You know, Hayward, I almost believe you. You’re doing a great job of selling this. But something doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “It ain’t Stumpy’s barbecue, that’s for sure.”

  “No, it’s not. But it is your attitude and your evasive responses,” Cal said. “In short, I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying through your teeth . . . I just haven’t figured out why yet.”

  “You’re gonna waste a lot of time doing that, Mr. Murphy. I already told you the truth; you just have to believe it now.”

  “I can smell your BS coming from miles away,” Cal said. “And it stinks.”

  “Oh, really,” Hayward said.

  Hayward stared at the ball for a moment before passing it hard at Cal’s chest. Like the last time, Cal was ready. He caught the ball and smiled at Hayward.

  “Don’t think you’re going to intimidate me,” Cal said. “You haven’t given me much reason to put any faith in you—and I’m going to keep digging through my investigation until I find the information to put you away if you’re guilty.”

  Hayward started laughing and then formed a gun with his hand, pointing it at Cal and gesturing as if he pulled the trigger.

  “Watch yo back, Mr. Murphy . . . if you know what’s good for you. Might I suggest a speedy exit out of Pickett?”

  CHAPTER 14

  WHEN CAL WALKED into Curly’s Diner for lunch, Kelly was already waiting for him, seated at a booth in the back of the
restaurant. She stared intently at her camera, unaware that her husband had even taken a seat across from her.

  “Find anything interesting?” Cal asked.

  Startled, Kelly nearly dropped her camera, fumbling it for a second before grasping control again. “Don’t do that to me, Cal,” she said. “You know I don’t like it when you sneak up on me like that.”

  “You need to add a few more tracks to that one-track mind of yours. You’re going to miss quite a bit if you keep your head buried.”

  “This was just too interesting to ignore,” she said.

  “What did you find at Susannah’s old house?”

  “Lots of things. For starters, nobody lives there.”

  Louise, Burt’s lunchtime waitress, took their orders and scurried back to the kitchen.

  “Really? I thought she built that house.”

  Kelly nodded. “She did, but apparently nobody around here wants anything to do with it. There was a maintenance guy there cutting the yard, but the house looked really run down.”

  “And it wasn’t for sale?”

  She shook her head. “I checked the records online. The last time it was listed as being sold was when she bought it.”

  “So, it’s just been sitting there collecting dust?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Did you get a peek inside?”

  “Oh, yeah, and I’ve got a few pictures. Check these out.” Kelly scrolled through several photos on her camera’s display screen for Cal. “As you can see, it’s a tight space.”

  “These will go great with the story, especially when we compare them side-by-side with the original images used during the trial. I really can’t believe nobody ever moved into that house again.”

  Kelly shot him a look. “Would you want to live in a house where a crazy murder occurred? Especially if you lived in a small town? All the neighbors would want to talk about when they came over to visit was where was she killed, and is there still any blood left over. It’d never stop. Would you want to live with that?”

  “Good point.”

  Cal leaned closer to the screen as Kelly continued to sift through some of the pictures she’d taken. However, she stopped abruptly and looked up when the front door banged shut.

  Cal looked at Kelly and then in the direction of her gaze.

  “Good afternoon, Jacob,” Burt said as he wiped the counter. “I saved you a seat here at the bar.”

  The man glared at Burt but continued walking toward Cal and Kelly’s table.

  Louise emerged from the kitchen, carrying a couple of plates. She was headed for Cal and Kelly’s table but was halted by the man.

  “I’ll take those for you,” he growled, snatching the tray away from Louise.

  “What are you doing?” she said, taken aback by his demeanor.

  He ignored her and continued his march toward Cal and Kelly.

  Once he reached their table, he dropped the tray, sending some of the fries scattering across the table. “Your order’s up . . . and so’s your time in Pickett,” he said. “It’s high time you skedaddle from here and crawl back under whatever rock you came from. Do I make myself clear?”

  Cal remained composed, unintimidated by the man’s threats. “You must be Jacob Boone,” Cal said as he offered his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you and have been wanting to meet you ever since you ran us off the road.”

  Boone cocked his head to one side and eyed Cal. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

  Cal shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I’m not. I even had your plates run at the sheriff’s office. Not that they needed to run your plates. Apparently, you’ve got quite the reputation for running people out of town . . . and off the road.”

  “If I’d run you off the road, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

  “Well, whatever the case may be, we’re not interested in your threats or your little mind games. We have a job to do—and we’re not leaving until we’re finished. Do I make myself clear?”

  Boone grabbed Cal’s glass of sweet tea and drained it before slamming it back down on the table. Putting his knuckles down on the table, Boone leaned forward and loomed over Cal.

  “It’s best you leave well enough alone. There won’t be another warning,” Boone bellowed.

  Cal didn’t flinch as Boone walked away.

  “Louise,” Cal called, “I’m gonna need a new glass of sweet tea.”

  CHAPTER 15

  CAL AND KELLY ENTERED the Pickett County Sheriff’s Office with a sense of purpose. While Cal liked small town life, he detested the corruption and power trips that often accompanied the people holding the most influential positions. His early assessment of the Susannah Sloan murder investigation was that it was amateurish, refusing to delve into the multiple possibilities. For that reason alone, Cal thought Drake deserved another trial. Drake certainly appeared guilty, but the sheriff’s office could have chased down more potential killers to eliminate all doubt. As it stood, the sheriff’s ham-fisted approach satisfied the burden of proof for the jury of Drake’s peers in Pickett County, and Cal found that difficult to fathom.

  “Betty,” Cal said, “I need to talk with Sheriff Sloan.”

  Studying a clipboard in front of her, Betty didn’t move. “He’s not available, Mr. Murphy,” she said. “He’s in a meeting until—”

  “I’ll handle this,” Sloan snapped as he entered the reception area, interrupting Betty’s rehearsed spiel. He eyed Cal. “What do you two want again?”

  “I want to talk with you about this murder investigation, maybe get a few questions answered,” Cal said.

  “Haven’t we already been over this? This case was solved more than a decade ago. We don’t need to rehash it when a group of Isaiah Drake’s peers heard all the evidence and found him guilty. And I certainly don’t care for you to waltz into my town and start slinging around accusations, soiling my daughter’s good name. You people are sick.”

  “Please, Sheriff Sloan,” Kelly began. “We’re not here to stir up trouble for you. But we do care about a man who could possibly be innocent but will be dead very soon if we don’t do something about it. Now, as a man who cares about justice, I think you can understand and relate to that, right?”

  Sloan dug into his left shirt pocket and fished out a toothpick before jamming it into his mouth. He exhaled and looked her in the eye.

  “I know y’all mean well and are tryin’ real hard, but I’m not interested in bein’ part of your little witch hunt. We got the right man and he’s behind bars, scheduled to be executed soon. And the sooner it happens, the easier it’ll be for this community to move on. We’re tired of the endless stream of reporters entering our town and tryin’ to find answers that have already been rehashed dozens of times. If you think you’re the first reporters to visit Pickett and put forth some new theories about who murdered Susannah, you’re sorely mistaken. We’ve heard them all countless times, and we’re tired of ‘em.”

  Cal put his hands up. “Sheriff, Sheriff. Nobody here is trying to cast you in a poor light. Quite frankly, if it was my daughter, I don’t know if I could do what you did and refrain from exacting justice. But I just can’t help but wonder if there are other possibilities, possibilities that you didn’t consider for whatever reason.”

  “We did our job, Mr. Murphy. And we did it so well, we even got a conviction—and it’s the kind people around here appreciated.”

  “All I’m saying is that maybe, intentional or not, you buried the truth . . . and now you’re going to bury an innocent man. Have you ever considered that possibility?”

  Sloan narrowed his eyes and fixated his gaze on Cal.

  “You big city newspaper reporters come down here to our little town and think that solving a murder is as easy as goin’ for a jog in the mornin’. As easy as pickin’ up one foot and puttin’ the other one down. Well, let me tell you one thing, Mr. Murphy, when there’s a murder like this, especially a high-profile one, you�
��re tryin’ your darndest to solve a crime while everyone else is breathin’ fire down your neck. The DA wants updates. The media wants update. Hell, the governor called me for updates. Everybody wants it to go away as quickly as possible so they can get on with their lives. And in this case, I was right there with ‘em.”

  Cal caught a glint of a tear in Sloan’s eye.

  Sloan continued. “I wanted it all to go away. My little girl was gone, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be left alone so I could grieve. All your questionin’ does is rip scabs off wounds that I thought were healed a long time ago.”

  “I understand, Sheriff. I’m simply trying to answer all the questions I know my editor will ask as well as our curious readers. This piece has to be as comprehensive as it is conclusive.”

  Cal exhaled and restrained himself from asking Sloan why he signed out of the office between the coroner’s estimated time of death that night that Susannah was murdered. This wasn’t the time to press Sloan again on his questionable actions. Cal watched Sloan cast a nervous glance at Betty.

  “Look, Sheriff, if you didn’t get a conviction on Isaiah Drake, who would you have gone after next? In your mind, who was the next likely suspect?”

  Sloan slid the toothpick between his lips forward and took a deep breath. “Ain’t no doubt in my mind who I would’ve gone after next.”

  Cal refused to wait for Sloan to give him a long and drawn out explanation. “Who would you go after then? Who’d be your next prime suspect?”

  Sloan sighed and shook his head. “I would’ve gone after Jordan Hayward.”

  CHAPTER 16

  ON THEIR WAY TO PICKETT COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL, Cal and Kelly spent a few minutes reflecting on what they’d learned so far. And Cal figured he was no closer to drawing any conclusions than he was after the day they started interviewing people.

  “If we think that Isaiah Drake is innocent, something we need to determine not only for the paper but also for The Innocence Alliance, then we need to have an alternative theory. And right now, I don’t know who that might be or how you could even begin to unravel a case like this. Drake just looks so guilty.”