Dead to Rights

by Jack Patterson

  “Is that the personal matter you went to talk to your daughter about? Your affair?”

  “That’s somethin’ that will stay between the two of us,” Sloan said before shoving Cal to the ground. “Tie him up, boys.”

  Three of the men with Sloan rushed to the ground and bound Cal’s hands together before also binding his feet.

  “Now the woman,” Sloan commanded.

  In less than a minute, Kelly was also tied up like Cal.

  “What are you gonna do with us?” Cal asked.

  Even in the twilight, Cal could see Sloan’s teeth glistening as he grinned.

  “I’m gonna introduce you to the Marsh Monster.”

  CHAPTER 38

  CAL MOANED AS SLOAN’S THUGS flung him into the back of a pickup truck. They had the decency to handle Kelly with a little more care, but not much more. His face rested on the bed of the truck as he looked over at her. In the pale moonlight, he could see a tear streaking down her face.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” he said. “Trust me.”

  She closed her eyes tight and exhaled, remaining silent. Cal was certain it was because she didn’t believe him. And he couldn’t really blame her either. The situation appeared dire. Death was almost certainly imminent.

  The truck roared to life and began to bump along the dirt road toward the main highway. Cal contemplated jumping out for a second but knew he couldn’t get far. It’d only hasten his demise. He could only pray—and hope.

  After a few minutes, the truck slowed down. Cal would’ve sworn that it was because they’d reached the main road. But then he saw the flashing lights.

  Cal struggled to sit up as he heard the hum of several engines toward the front of the truck. Then a voice over a bull horn.

  “Step out of the vehicle with your hands up,” boomed a voice.

  Cal listened as the doors to the truck flew open and shots were exchanged. He counted two men crying out in pain before bodies hit the ground. Then he heard an all-too familiar voice in Sheriff Sloan.

  “No need to shoot,” Sloan said. “I surrender.”

  Cal struggled to get to his knees so he could peer around the outside of the truck bed to see what was going on. Once he did, he realized that it was over for Sloan.

  “Sheriff Sloan, you’re under arrest,” one of the agents said.

  “What for?”

  “Possession of narcotics with intent to distribute, money laundering, and tax evasion, among other things.”

  Sloan sneered.

  “This’ll never stand up in court, and you know it,” he said.

  One of the agents began to read Sloan his Miranda Rights.

  “Check the far cabin,” Cal yelled. “And add kidnapping to the list.”

  A pair of agents rushed over and untied Cal and Kelly and began interviewing them. Meanwhile, an FBI vehicle kicked up a cloud of dust as it headed toward the Camp Manmaker facilities.

  “You better hope I don’t get convicted,” Sloan said as he looked at Cal. “I will find you.”

  An agent jerked Sloan toward one of the black SUVs blocking the way of Sloan’s truck. “Let’s go, Enforcer.”

  “Good thing I turned on the recorder on my phone,” Cal said. “Have a nice life.”

  An FBI agent interviewed Cal and Kelly while they waited for the other team of agents to return from inspecting the cabin. When the agents finally returned, more agents piled into the vehicle and headed back toward the cabin.

  “Sheriff Sloan is the Enforcer?” Cal asked, still shocked at the suggestion.

  The agent nodded. “Don’t worry. Sloan and the rest of these guys will never see the light of day again … unless it’s the inside of a prison yard. But there’s one more guy in this ring we’ve yet to identify who doesn’t appear to be here tonight.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “His handle in the group is Monster. Ever heard of him?”

  “Nope,” Cal said.

  He then turned and looked at Kelly, whose tear-stained cheeks had almost dried.

  “I told you it would be all right,” Cal said.

  “You got lucky,” she said.

  “Maybe, but I was still right.”

  She forced a smile. “But there’s just one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We still don’t know who killed Susannah Sloan?”

  Cal broke into a faint smile. “That’s my girl.”

  CHAPTER 39

  ON MONDAY, CAL AND KELLY checked out of the Okefenokee Inn. They had a direct flight out of Atlanta to Seattle on Tuesday morning, but Cal wanted to get an early jump and clean up a few loose ends before they returned home. He figured they’d overstayed their welcome in Pickett by a few days at least, long enough to see the long-time sheriff arrested by federal agents and a big drug ring busted. But it still didn’t answer the question Cal and Kelly had traveled to Pickett to get for the long feature on Isaiah Drake: Who killed Susannah Sloan?

  Cal and Kelly agreed that their first order of business would be to stop by the Pickett County Sheriff’s Department and see if they could speak with Drake one final time. When they arrived, Drake was in the lobby, signing some paperwork with his lawyer, Robert Sullivan.

  “Like that, I’m free?” Drake asked, somewhat bewildered.

  Deputy Blake Tillman, who was serving as the acting sheriff, nodded.

  “Apparently, there were no witnesses who were willing to testify against you, so I saw to it that you were released without any charges,” Tillman said. “I apologize for the inconvenience and any discomfort this may have caused you.”

  Drake turned around to recognize Cal and Kelly. Gone was Drake’s anger they’d witnessed at Sheriff Sloan’s house or the bitterness that consumed him in prison a week ago. And Drake’s drastically different demeanor startled Cal.

  “You look … at peace,” Cal said.

  Drake nodded. “I am, thanks to you and Kelly and The Innocence Alliance. I feel like I have a legitimate shot to clear my name. I’ll never get my NFL career back, but my name is more important anyway, right?”

  Cal and Kelly both nodded.

  “I’m glad we could help,” Kelly said.

  “What will you do now?” Cal asked.

  “I’m going to develop a plan for moving forward and come up with a strategy for winning the next trial.”

  “If there is one,” Tillman chimed in.

  Drake spun around. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re only going to be re-tried if another suspect isn’t found,” Tillman said.

  “And is there one?” Cal asked.

  Tillman shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, but you never know. Stranger things have happened, so good luck.”

  “I’m not going to count on luck,” Drake said. “It played a role in getting me out of prison, but only after twelve years. I’m not too excited about the prospect of relying on it to help me avoid returning there.”

  Cal asked Drake a few questions before shaking hands and waving goodbye. Drake grabbed Cal and hugged him, catching him off guard. When he looked into Drake’s watery eyes, Cal realized it was a sincere emotion.

  “You helped me get my life back,” Drake said. “Thank you.”

  Cal smiled. “It was my pleasure, though I’m not sure I did that much. Just try not to wave any more guns in the faces of any other sheriffs.” He winked at Tillman, who nodded back knowingly.

  “I promise I won’t,” Drake said.

  “And if you ever need anything, please call me at the paper,” Cal said. “I’ll be honored to help you in any way that I can.”

  Drake shook Cal’s and Kelly’s hands before exiting the office.

  Cal turned and looked at Tillman.

  “Why’d you do that?” Cal asked.

  “He’d already been through enough, not to mention that we just might learn that Sheriff Sloan was the one who deserved to be in jail all those years, not Isaiah Drake,” Tillman said.

  “You’re gon
na make a great sheriff,” Cal said.

  “Thanks. And if you ever need anything, please call me,” Tillman said as he handed his business card to Cal. It already had the word Sheriff printed beneath his name instead of Deputy.

  “Wow,” Cal said as he studied the card. “You work fast.”

  Tillman grinned. “I dream big, my friend.”

  Cal and Kelly exited the building only to be accosted by Crazy Corey Taylor within seconds.

  “So, did ya figure out who killed Susannah Sloan yet?” Taylor asked.

  Cal and Kelly both shook their heads.

  “Are you ready to find out?” he asked, flashing his toothy grin.

  Cal sighed and looked down at the ground before glancing up at Taylor.

  “Lay it on me,” Cal said. “What do I have to lose?”

  “I have a picture I want to show you,” Taylor said as he clutched a small photo tight against his chest. “I showed it to Sheriff Sloan during the investigation, but he didn’t wanna listen to me. But I think you will … and I think you’ll take me seriously, too.”

  “Let’s see it,” Cal said.

  Taylor slowly pulled the picture away from his chest and held it out for Cal and Kelly to see.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Cal asked.

  Taylor nodded. “Sure is.”

  “That can’t be him,” Kelly said, almost unable to utter the words.

  “Don’t question me,” Taylor said. “I’m just the messenger who took this picture.”

  “When did you take it?” Cal asked.

  “About twelve years ago. Not a soul in town believed me when I told them. Guess that’s what happens when they all think you’re on the crazy train.”

  Cal looked at Kelly. “I guess we have one more stop before we leave town. Wait right here.”

  Hustling back into the Pickett County Sheriff’s Department, Cal flagged down Tillman.

  “About getting your help if we ever needed anything,” Cal said. “I think we need your help now.”

  CHAPTER 40

  CAL AND KELLY KNOCKED and waited outside the door of Devontae Ray’s house. A stiff breeze whipped a few stray pieces of trash into the air, carrying them twenty or thirty meters a clip before briefly touching down and then repeating the dance all over again. A robin chirped peacefully in a nearby tree. Cal noted the ramp leading up over the house steps and onto the porch needed a fresh coat of paint as it had started to chip along the edges.

  Cal listened to see if Ray was home. After about a minute, he heard the heavy roll of a wheelchair making its way through the house. The rolling noise finally came to a stop and was followed by a soft bump against the door. A slit in the middle of the door opened up.

  “What do you want?” Ray asked.

  “Hi, Mr. Ray. My wife and I are about to head back to Seattle in about an hour, but we wanted to ask you a few questions first,” Cal said as he bent down to see Ray’s face through the slot in the door.

  “Why don’t I save you two an hour and let you get on your way?” Ray said. The slit closed.

  “I think I figured out that Jordan Hayward killed Susannah Sloan, and we wanted to ask you about it.”

  The slot re-opened.

  “Why do you think I’d know anything about it?” Ray asked.

  “I don’t, but I know you knew Jordan Hayward.”

  A few locks slid and turned before the door swung open. Ray sat hunched over in his wheelchair. He gestured for them to come inside.

  “I appreciate this,” Cal said as he and Kelly entered the house. “Is there a place where we can sit down and talk?”

  Ray glared at him. “I’m always sittin’ down, and I rarely have visitors, so I don’t really think about it much.” He sighed. “Let’s go to the kitchen. It’s not comfortable seating—from what I hear—but it’ll suffice.”

  Kelly fidgeted with a small packet in her hand.

  “Do you mind if I boil some water?” she asked. “I’ve got a medicine I need to take with this special tea.”

  Ray scowled. “What kind of medicine is that?”

  “It’s a homeopathic medicine?”

  “A homeo-what? Oh, forget it. Sure. There are pots down below, of course.”

  Kelly dug out a pot, filled it with water, and put it on the stove. She cranked the burner up to high and took a seat at the table.

  “I’m not sure I can really provide much for you,” Ray said. “But I guess I can try. I just don’t have long.”

  “Oh, this won’t take long,” Cal said. “Just a few questions about the night of May 7, 2004. Do you remember where you were?”

  “Is that the night Susannah Sloan was killed?” Ray asked.

  Cal nodded.

  “In that case, I was doin’ nothin’, just like every other night in my life since my accident.”

  Cal scribbled down a note. “I heard about your accident. What happened?”

  “Susannah wasn’t payin’ attention, and she plowed right into me and my brother on his motorcycle. The docs said I was lucky to be alive, but I’m not so sure I was the lucky one between me and my brother. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live like this, strapped into a wheelchair every single day? It’s tiresome, I tell you.”

  “I can only imagine,” Cal said.

  “How’d you feel about Ms. Sloan after that?” Kelly asked.

  Ray sneered. “I hated her guts for a long time, but eventually I got over it. I finally made peace with the fact that I’d never be able to walk or run again. It’s not the best hand you can get dealt in life, but it’s the only one I got, so I try to make the best of it. Over time, I eventually just forgot about Susannah and went on with my life.”

  “Until she died?” Cal asked.

  “Yeah, when she died, it brought back all those painful memories again—then I was glad she was dead. She only escaped because her daddy was the sheriff. Otherwise, she would’ve and should’ve gone to jail. But whatever, it’s over and done with.”

  “I heard you got in trouble with the law before that,” Cal said. “What kept you from entering a life of crime?”

  Ray flashed a faint smile. “Believe it or not, it was Sheriff Sloan himself. I went to Camp Manmaker one summer, and it helped keep me straight. That and my momma, God rest her soul.”

  “What happened to your mother?” Kelly asked.

  “She died of lung cancer. Couldn’t stop smokin’, even after they told her she was dyin’ from it. I know she’s in a better place now.”

  The pot started to boil. Kelly got up and walked over to the stove.

  “Where do you keep your mugs?” Kelly asked.

  “Down below with everything else,” Ray said. “Look in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

  Kelly knelt down and pulled out a coffee mug. She put it on the table and proceeded to fetch the water. She poured the hot water over the tea bag.

  “Smells good,” Ray said.

  “Yeah, but it needs to steep for a few minutes,” she said as she finished pouring. “Waiting is the worst part about making such delicious smelling tea.”

  Then Kelly, still carrying the pot of hot water, lurched toward Ray, sending the hot water flying toward him.

  “Look out,” Kelly cried.

  Ray leaped out of his wheelchair, jumping to the side as he watched the water splash onto the kitchen floor. Then he slowly looked up at Cal and Kelly.

  “Well, isn’t this interesting,” Cal said.

  Ray reached behind his back and pulled out a gun, training it on Cal and Kelly. He motioned for Kelly to move closer to Cal.

  “It most certainly is,” Ray said. “Looks like you’re gonna miss your flight.”

  “If you plan on killing us, please make it quick, but only after you tell me how you did it,” Cal said.

  Ray furrowed his brow. “Did what?”

  “How you murdered Susannah Sloan?”

  “I shot her at point blank range, just like I’m gonna do to you.”

  �
�Why? Were you still bitter about her running you over and never having to suffer any consequences?” Cal asked, pressing Ray.

  “Believe it or not, it was a simple hit.”

  “A hit? What are you talking about?”

  Ray shook his head. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I heard about your little stunt last night at Camp Manmaker. You know what goes on there.”

  Cal nodded. “So, what? She found out that her father was a big drug lord in South Georgia?”

  “Pretty much. Sheriff Sloan tried to convince her to leave it alone and help throw the feds off his trail. She told him she wouldn’t do that, so he told me to convince her by any means necessary. I don’t think he meant for me to kill her, but I did. In the end, what was he going to say. He would’ve gone to jail for life if he tried to turn on me—and he knew it.”

  “So he told you that night to take care of her?”

  “Naw, this had been in the works for a few days. He just stopped by her house to plead with her one more time and give her one more chance. When I heard that Isaiah Drake was going to be in town, I decided to pin it all on him. And he’d be dead and this case would’ve been long gone if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “You were the one who planted that picture in Drake’s pocket?”

  Ray smiled and stroked his chin.

  “That punk did exactly what I wanted him to. Drake made it so easy for me to pin the murder on him. I snuck up behind him, and he never knew what hit him. I gave him something that knocked him out for hours and planted everything on him before I shoved him out in that johnboat, right where that idiot deputy Tate Pellman went fishing every weekend.”

  Ray cocked his gun and pointed it at Cal’s head. “Any more questions before I end this little game?”

  “And the finger?” Kelly asked.

  “My special little touch.”

  “Just one more,” Cal said. “Why’d you fake it? Why stay in a wheelchair all these years?”

  “Because nobody would believe I could be capable of such things, especially being the Marsh Monster or just The Monster, depending on who you’re talkin’ to.”

  “But what about—?”