“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Go finish your activity logs from yesterday and get them filed, and then we’ll work on these.”
The deputy’s eyes shot up. “I’m not patrolling today?”
“No. You definitely are not. You’re going to man the phones so Durst can get out there in a cruiser and do what you should be doing.” He hated to do that to Durst, but the seasoned deputy was eight weeks post-operative for his knee injury and he’d been cleared for full duty, so it was time for him to get back out there anyway.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry is a bad word to have to use in our profession, rookie. A lot of times when we have to say we’re sorry, somebody’s died. So let’s try to not have to use it again, shall we?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it, sir.”
“Good. I’ll get those scenarios out to you so you can start working on them.” Carter pointed to the door. “Back to work.”
“Yes, sir.” Edwards stood and made his way out of the office. Without being told, he closed the door behind him, and Carter sighed. Personnel issues―he hated ‘em.
The information on the annual sheriff’s conference had shown up, and Carter took some time to look it over. It was being held that summer in Jamestown at Lake Cumberland State Resort Park. He looked forward to the conferences, but he dreaded them too. A lot of the guys brought their wives, and he always felt left out. Maybe Sharla could come with him. It would be a nice trip for her. They usually planned things for the spouses, and she could meet some of the other sheriffs’ wives.
Would he like for her to be his wife? The question made him smile. In a lot of ways, that sounded good. Of course, there was the fear factor. Would she be able to handle his profession? She said she could, and he believed her. It was a little early for rings and wedding bells, but he didn’t mind fantasizing about it. Kissing her good morning every morning, coming home to her in the evenings, dinner at the table instead of on a tray in front of the TV … wouldn’t those things be nice? They sure would, he decided. Time would tell, and he’d definitely give it as much time as necessary.
Just as he was slipping the information back into the envelope, his phone buzzed and he hit the button. “Yeah?”
“Sir, it’s Detective Curry from Calloway County on line one for you.”
“Thanks, Edwards. I’ll take it.” He picked up the receiver on the office phone and hit the button. “Sam!”
“Hey, Carter! How’s it goin’?”
“Goin’ good! Cruz is coming in tomorrow.”
“So I heard! Would it bother you too much for me to pick him up?”
“Bother me? Hell no, not at all. I was wondering how I was going to get him here and be at that funeral at the same time.”
“You’re going to the funeral?”
Well, shit, here we go, Carter thought. “Yeah. The family’s requested that I be there.”
“Well, I have to say, my respect for you just skyrocketed. Most officers wouldn’t want any part of being at a funeral where they’d taken down the deceased. That’s going to be awkward for you, I’m sure, but I admire you for that.”
That was not what he’d thought Sam would say, and for that little slice of time, his heart was grateful for the understanding of the officer on the phone. “Thank you. I just want to do whatever they need me to do.”
“I get it. I do. So do you know Cruz’s plans?”
“No. He hasn’t told me yet.”
“I’ll give him a call and get all the particulars,” Sam offered.
“He’s probably flying into Nashville. Sure you don’t mind?” That wasn’t Sam’s responsibility, after all.
“Not at all. I’ll take Dahlia with me and we’ll grab something to eat on the way back, spend some time catching up. We didn’t even know about Mickie until recently, so it would be good to spend some time with him.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be at the funeral tomorrow afternoon, so if you need anything, just send me a text. And thanks, Sam. Thanks for everything.”
“You’re quite welcome. Always happy to help. And good luck tomorrow, Carter. My hat’s off to you.”
“Thank you.” They hung up and Carter sat there for a little while, contemplating everything. An FBI agent was coming to help him. To his knowledge, no one with KSP or KDCI knew that―yet. And he had no intention of telling them. Deep in thought, he barely heard the tap at the door. “Come in.”
“Sheriff?”
“Yes?”
“Sir, I have every intention of doing what you want me to do, but I pulled some of Durst and Watson’s tickets and, honestly, I can’t see what I’m doing wrong.”
Oh, for the love of god, Carter wanted to sigh out, but he couldn’t. Patience, he told himself. “Okay. Nothing looks different?”
“No, sir. If I’m doing something wrong, I don’t see it.”
“Here. Give me one of both and let me look at them.” Carter took them from Edwards’ hands and squinted at them. He followed down the page. Everything seemed to be there―the deputy’s name, date, time, location, name of citation recipient, license number, license plate number, KRS citing. The deputies had signed them at the bottom. What was missing? He couldn’t see it either. He was about to say exactly that when he caught it. “Oh my fucking god.”
“What, sir?”
“This little box down here. See it?” Carter pointed at the box just below the deputy’s signature. Edwards leaned in and squinted at it. “You didn’t check that.”
“What is that, sir?”
“It says,” Carter said, still squinting at the tiny print, “‘I hereby certify that I am a duly-sworn officer of the law and am within my full rights to issue this citation on behalf of the Trigg County Sheriff’s Department.’ You have got to be shitting me. That’s what Michaels was having such a fit over?” Carter could barely believe his eyes. “I just … Edwards, I’m sorry. I don’t know … Had you just never noticed that before?”
“No, sir. I don’t remember anybody ever mentioning it to me, and it’s so tiny I couldn’t even read it.”
“Me neither. I always just checked it because I was told to, but if you weren’t, hell, there’s no way you could’ve known. Need a damn magnifying glass to even see it. Tell you what. I’m going to tell old Judge Michaels that you’re going to the vision center and we’re going to forget this ever happened, okay? I can’t believe that old sumbitch … You’re doing a good job, young man. Don’t let this rattle you. And I’m sorry I came off so hard-assed earlier.”
“It’s okay, sheriff. Thanks for the help. I want to do everything right, I really do. And I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“I do. Thank you for being understanding. Now go get back to work. Go to the vision center at the superstore and look at a pair of frames so I won’t be lying when I tell him you visited there.”
Edwards gave Carter a lopsided grin. “Thanks, sheriff. I’ll do that.” Just as before, Edwards closed the door softly behind him when he left Carter’s office and the sheriff slid back into his chair and sighed. Dear god. With all he had going on, Michaels was on a rampage about that? He shook his head in frustration. That old man should have half my problems, Carter thought as he went through a stack of documents on his desk.
One more day. Cruz would be there and maybe they could start unraveling the puzzle that surrounded Tamara’s death. After a call to the county court clerk’s office, Carter headed over to their office to pick up a check from the department’s funds, then headed to the funeral home to deliver it. Tamara’s funeral was paid for. Her headstone was being paid for by a church there in the area. The grave digging and opening?
Carter paid for that himself. It was the very least he could do.
Chapter 6
It had been his habit over the years to pick up a random book, open it to a random page, and start reading. He didn’t look at the cover or the spine, nor did he look at the top of the page. He didn’t want to kno
w the name of the book; he wanted to read a bit in it and try to remember the title and author.
The book that evening had dropped open to page two hundred eighty-seven and he’d read three pages when he figured out it was a John Grisham novel. Time slipped by as he thought about it and decided it was The Client. He’d gotten through eight pages when his phone rang and he looked at the screen. I’ve got to assign her a ringtone, he thought as he answered it. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi. I think everybody’s down for the night.”
“They doing okay?”
“I gave them both a Benadryl before they went to bed. That’ll help them sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be hard. Did you have a good day?”
“Yes and no. By the way, everything’s taken care of. I dropped the department fund’s check off at the funeral home, and the excavation is paid for too. And according to the funeral director, Trinity Christian Church is going to pay for the headstone.” When she didn’t reply, Carter asked softly, “Honey, you okay?”
He could hear the sob in her voice as she answered. “I just … Thank you for taking care of all that. I don’t think I could. I’ve been a wreck all day. You can’t know how badly I’m dreading tomorrow, not just for me, but for Chelsea and Lionel. That poor boy … He feels like he’s lost everything. I’ve tried to be a good parent to him, done my best, but―”
“You’ve done a fine job, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how he feels, though. But at least he’s got you and Chelsea.”
“And you, Carter.”
“Yes. And me. Even though he doesn’t know it yet.” He had to smile just a little at the thought. It wasn’t just Chelsea he’d be taking on. Lionel would come with the package too. Yes, they were adults, but they were still Sharla’s children, and he’d still want a good relationship with them both. “So how do you want tomorrow to go down?”
“Can you sit with us?”
“I can, but I’d rather be up and keeping an eye out. There’s a possibility that if there’s something wrong going on with all this, somebody might turn up at the service or the cemetery. I want to be able to see what’s going on, and I can’t if I’m sitting in a pew. Will that be okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just knowing you’re there will make me feel better,” she answered, and he could hear the sorrow in her weak voice.
“But I’ll most definitely drive you to the funeral home, to the cemetery, and then back home. Oh, I meant to tell you, I got a call from one of the women in the alumni association at the school. They want to provide a meal for you guys after the service, if you’d like. Said they’d bring the food to the funeral home and you could pick it up afterward to take home. Nothing fancy, just some folks trying to do something nice for you.” All he heard from the other end of the phone was a sob. “Sharla, honey, it’s okay. Everybody wants to help you. Let them, okay?”
“I feel so bad for Trooper Palmer’s family!” she cried out. “Who’s helping them? Is anybody doing anything for them? It has to be awful!”
“Oh, yeah. The troopers have all rallied around them, and KSP takes care of everything. They’ve got everything they need. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine. Just worry about yourself, Chelsea, and Lionel. That’s your only responsibility right now. You’re not responsible for what Tamara did, babe. That’s not your fault.”
“I just feel so bad for them.”
“I know. We all do. And we all feel bad for you too. This isn’t something you would’ve ever chosen for your family.”
“It sure as hell isn’t.” She was silent for a few seconds before she said, “Oh, I almost forgot. The damn TV station out of Nashville called me today, wanting an interview. I told them to go fuck themselves.”
“Good move. Don’t talk to them―don’t talk to anybody. The investigation is ongoing, and it’s not appropriate. Plus you really don’t know anything to tell them, and anything personal about Tamara, well, they can dig around on their own. You shouldn’t help them.”
“That was my thinking too. Carter, I … I’m just so damn tired.”
“I know, honey. Let’s get through tomorrow and you can get some rest. And babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He could hear her start to cry again. “I love you too. I’m so sorry for all of this.”
“None of it is your fault, angel. Just go to bed and get some sleep. I’ll be there tomorrow at eleven forty-five to pick all of you up, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks. See you then.”
“You will. Bye, love.” He hit END and dropped back into the sofa’s softness. The next day would be hell on earth, and he hoped she could hang on.
It wasn’t something Carter had given much thought to before, but he found himself wishing the sheriff’s department had a “dress” uniform that Wednesday morning. Lewis served as his detective, and he and Carter both had polo shirts with the department’s crest embroidered on the breast pocket. Fortunately, that kept his regular uniform in the closet, clean, pressed, and ready, and he donned it and looked in the mirror. Plenty nice enough, he supposed, for a regular, everyday uniform.
His cruiser was more than large enough for all four of them, so he headed to Sharla’s to pick up her, Chelsea, and Lionel. It was about eleven forty when he pulled into the drive, and he decided to just go ahead and ring the doorbell.
A red-eyed, teary Chelsea answered the door. “Hi, Chelsea. You guys about ready?”
“Yeah. Mom’s just finishing up. Would you like to come in?”
She has no idea I’ve slept in her mother’s bed, his brain hummed. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Just have a seat. I’m sure she’ll be out in a minute. I’ve got to go help Lionel with his tie.” As Chelsea walked away, he heard her grumble, “Like I know anything about ties.”
A chance to be useful and help out. Better grab it. “I’d be glad to help him.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, maybe that would be better. Hey, Li, Sheriff Melton said he’d help you with your tie,” Chelsea called down the hallway.
The young man appeared in what had to be a brand new suit, his eyes puffy but dry. “Okay. I don’t tie these things so I don’t know anything about them.”
“It’s not hard if you know how. This’ll only take a second.” Carter adjusted the length of both ends of the tie, then began the process of knotting it. When it was finished, he stepped back and looked at it. “Looks nice.”
“Thanks.” That one word was the only thing Lionel said before he walked on past Carter and out the front door. What he was doing out there, Carter couldn’t imagine, and he couldn’t tell if the young man was overcome with emotion or pissed off that he was there. A sound caused Carter to turn.
Sharla stood there in a navy dress and low black pumps, her hair caught up in a smooth chignon he was sure Chelsea had helped her arrange. “Hi. Everybody ready to go?” she asked as she strode across the room toward him. The urge to grab her and kiss her was overwhelming, but he knew he couldn’t―not in front of Chelsea anyway. “Where’s Lionel?”
“Outside. I think he might be mad that I’m here,” Carter murmured under his breath.
Sharla shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s just trying hard not to show any emotion. Thinks crying is a sign of weakness.”
“Would you like for me to talk to him?”
“Only if it comes about organically. Don’t force it or make a point to do it, but if he’s close by and tries to interact with you, sure. Talk to him. He doesn’t have a man in his life except for one teacher at the school.”
Carter nodded. “Noted. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be for this, I suppose. Chels?”
“Yeah. I’m ready, Mom.”
“Then let’s get everybody in my car and head that direction.” Carter opened the door and waited for the two women to step out, then locked the knob and pulled it shut behind him. Chelsea and Lionel were already sliding into the back seat, so he opened the front passenger door for Sharla and wai
ted until she was buckled in to close it.
The ride to the funeral home was painful. Carter could tell no one really felt like talking. Several times he glanced over at Sharla, but she was staring out the window, not looking toward him, and he couldn’t catch her eye. Family visitation was at noon, and they made it there with three minutes to spare.
As soon as they pulled up in the parking lot, Carter turned to them. “I will be here partially because you all asked me to be and partially as a professional. I won’t be sitting with you; I’ll be standing in the back to one side, keeping an eye out. If there’s a problem, I want to catch it fast.”
Sharla’s eyes popped open wide. “You don’t really think there’ll be a problem, do you?”
All Carter could do was shrug. “There are nut jobs everywhere. If one of them decides to target the funeral, I want somebody to take them down fast. I know people are upset that a trooper has been killed, but I’m hoping everyone understands that this service is for you guys, not Tamara. I talked to Sheriff Dowd and he’s going to have a few guys around. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about, so pay attention.” When Chelsea and Lionel’s eyes found his, he continued. “If you see anything, and I mean anything, that doesn’t look right, anybody you think shouldn’t be there or anybody or anything that stands out in your mind, I need you to tell somebody. One of the officers. I mean it. Don’t hesitate.” Should I? Yep. I think it’s time, he told himself. “We think Tamara was intentionally drugged.”
“I knew it!” Lionel shouted.
“If that’s the case, the old saying that the perpetrator always comes back to the scene of the crime, well, it’s not always true, but it is a lot of times. It’s possible somebody might show up that would need to be talked to, and I don’t want them to slip away. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep an eye out,” Chelsea assured him.
Shelter for Sharla Page 10
