“Gentlemen,” Wilkes said, extending his hand and smiling with white, perfect teeth.
Shelby accepted the sheriff’s hand and shook it. Wilkes engaged in a minor squeeze contest and tried to turn Shelby’s hand under his own, a classic power move. Shelby exerted his own considerable force and kept his wrist rigid and unyielding. Wilkes gave up and moved on to Mack.
“Kylie said you wanted to meet with me,” Wilkes said. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Can we speak privately?” Shelby said.
“I suppose so,” Wilkes said. “Why don’t you gentlemen come back to my office? Kylie, hold my calls, will you?”
Shelby exchanged a glance with Mack, who rolled his eyes. Who did this guy think he was, director of the CIA?
Once in his office, Wilkes settled behind his desk and regarded his visitors with a longsuffering eye.
“Won’t you have a seat, gentlemen?”
They sat. Shelby was developing a strong dislike for Wilkes. Granted, it could have something to do with everything he’d heard about the man—not the fairest way to judge someone’s character—but the sheriff’s attitude of accommodation was pissing him off. It was as if Wilkes was trying very hard to be polite while he made time for a couple of area peasants to state their grievances.
“What brings you in today? We don’t issue hunting permits here.”
“We’re not here for hunting permits,” Shelby said. “And my name is Alexander, by the way. Shelby Alexander. My friend is Jerry McIntyre. He’s a cop from downstate.”
“Alexander. I’ve heard of you.” Wilkes turned to Mack and his eyes brightened a little. “Law enforcement. Where are you located, Mr. McIntyre?”
“I’m retired. Spent most of my career in Detroit.”
“Rough town.”
“We made it work.”
“Of course. I spent some time there myself. Well, I’m always happy to help out a brother in arms. What can I do for you?”
“Are you aware of a new influx of meth in the area, Sheriff?”
“It isn’t new. The Ellis family has been distributing the stuff since long before I took over here. Everybody knows that. I haven’t been able to prove it or find out where they’re getting their supply. I will, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That isn’t what we’re worried about,” Shelby said. He reached into his coat and pulled out the bag of drugs he’d taken from the cabin. He tossed it onto the desk. “This didn’t come from the Ellises.”
“Meth?”
“You tell me.”
Wilkes looked it over, then used a letter opener to slit the bag. He pulled out a crystal, balanced it on the blade of the opener, and held it up to the light.
“It’s meth. Fairly high grade.”
“Higher than what we usually see around here, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose I would.” Wilkes slid the meth back into the bag and dropped the opener in his desk drawer. “But that doesn’t mean the Ellises aren’t behind it.”
“It’s highly unlikely.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“I didn’t find this at the Ellis place.”
“Maybe it was purchased from them. Where did you find it?”
“Little cabin off Highway 22. Stumbled on it while out birding.”
“Birding?”
“Yes, birding. You have a problem with birding?”
“No, I don’t have a problem with birding. You men don’t seem the type.”
Mack humphed. “And what sort of men go birding?”
“No offense, no offense. I’m wondering how you went about obtaining this bag of meth. That might make a difference in what I’m able to do with it.”
“We found it.”
“Just sitting there, was it?”
“You might say that. We got lost, you see, and stumbled on this cabin. We thought there might be a phone inside, so we tried the door. It was open and we went inside. I suppose we shouldn’t have, but we had no idea Highway 22 was so close by. We were looking for a phone when we saw this freezer full of bags like this one.”
“A freezer?”
“The top was propped open.”
Wilkes shook his head, a smug smile on his tanned face. Shelby thought his eyes had hardened a little. “You know, Alexander, I’m a little insulted you thought I would believe any of this. But I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to try to pin a breaking and entering charge on you, your friend Mr. McIntyre being in such good standing with law enforcement downstate. I have no bone to pick with them.”
“So you’re not going to do anything about this?”
“I’ll look into it. But I’m sure the Ellises are behind it, no matter where you say you found it. They’ve had control of the meth market in this area since before I came here.”
“This isn’t Ellis work, Wilkes.”
“That’s where we disagree. In any case, you have my word I’ll look into it. Until then, I must ask you leave investigation up to currently employed law enforcement.”
Shelby looked at Mack, knowing the remark was aimed at him. His friend’s face grew stormy.
“And what do you mean by that?” Mack asked.
Wilkes didn’t back down. “I’ve known men who were law enforcement all their lives who, once they moved on, forgot they were no longer protected by the badge. They’d seen so much and made the wrong friendships out of necessity that living as a private citizen no longer held much appeal. Gambling debts, prostitutes, drugs, corruption. It’s common among retired law enforcement of all kinds. You spend all your life rubbing shoulders with the other side and pretty soon you can’t tell one side from the other.”
“You’re pretty young to be giving a speech like that,” Mack said. “Your daddy tell you all this?”
Wilkes stood up. “I’m a busy man, gentlemen. I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me so I can get back to running my department.”
Mack looked at Shelby. “I think we’re being dismissed.”
“Looks that way,” Shelby said. They stood up and turned to go.
“Oh, and Mr. Alexander,” Wilkes said.
Shelby turned back.
“What I said about former law enforcement goes for you as well.”
“I was never in law enforcement.”
“No, but I’ve heard about your exploits. People seem to think you’re quite something. A fixer, they call you.”
“I can’t help what people say.”
“Just the same, watch yourself. I can’t control what you do elsewhere, but remember that around here, I do the fixing. And I don’t need your help.” Wilkes smiled coolly. “Good day, gentlemen.”
18
Leslie called the next day. Shelby answered, although he and Mack were in the middle of a hotly contested game of chess.
“Did you get the package I sent?”
“Yes, I got it.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it was very thoughtful.”
“Are you using it?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re old and stubborn. What’s your favorite flavor from the variety pack?”
“Columbian Sunrise.”
“Are you just saying that?”
“No. And why are you being so suspicious?”
“You answered very quickly. Like you had it prepared.”
“I did have it prepared, because I knew you’d ask. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Mack reached out and moved his bishop, putting Shelby’s king in check.
“Have you tried any of the others?”
“I’ve only been drinking the Colombian.”
“I’ll take your word for it. But you better keep using it. I’ve set up a subscription for you so you’ll keep the pods in stock. I’ll send more of the Colombian, but if you decide you like something else, let me know and I can make the changes.”
“You really don’t have to go to all t
his trouble and expense,” Shelby said. He was trying to talk and study the board at the same time. Mack had managed to keep his pieces on the run for the last hour and distraction was not something he needed at this critical juncture in the game.
“Have you spoken with Mom?”
“Spoken with her?”
“Yes, as in a conversation. As in, exchanged words and pleasantries.”
“No, I have not. I haven’t spoken with your mother in…I have no idea. I think it was back when you were convinced you were going to marry that hippie from Portland. We conspired together to break it up.”
“I could never figure out what you had against Lupo,” Leslie said. “He wanted to bring everyone together.”
“Well, he brought me and your mother together, if only briefly and over a single issue. Maybe if he’d been around sooner, we wouldn’t have gotten divorced.”
“Maybe I should look him up.”
“You do and I’ll shoot him myself.”
“Lupo was a free spirit.”
“Lupo was a freeloader.”
“He had urgent business on the European hostel circuit. It’s pure coincidence he disappeared right after he discovered I wasn’t the wealthy daughter of a boxing legend.”
“You’re a funny girl.”
Mack was motioning for Shelby to hurry his move. Shelby studied the board and moved his knight to block the bishop’s line of attack.
“So what’s this about your mother? What makes you think I would have talked to her?”
“Just wondering.”
“Bullshit. You’re up to something. What have you done?”
“Nothing! Jesus, talk about being suspicious.”
“Leslie?”
“I said you mentioned how much you missed hearing her voice and then suggested she call you, that’s all.”
“I said no such thing!”
“But I know it’s true.”
“It’s not true.”
“Oh, come on, Daddy. I know you miss her. Don’t deny it.”
Shelby’s temper cooled when she said “Daddy.” It took him back to when Leslie was a little girl and getting tucked into bed. “Tell me a story, Daddy.” He caught himself smiling and felt a burning behind his eyes. He blinked before Mack saw the tears.
“You’re a very manipulative person,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“I’m trying to help, that’s all.”
“Why do I feel as if there is something you’re not telling me?”
“What makes you say that?”
“We’ve had this discussion.”
“You’re right,” Leslie said. “I should probably let you get back to your day.”
Mack drained his beer, stood up, and walked toward the kitchen. Shelby watched him open the refrigerator and waved at him, trying to get his attention to request another beer of his own. But Mack wasn’t paying any attention. Instead, he seemed fixed on something outside.
“And now you’re in a sudden hurry to get off the phone.”
“You and Mom need to talk, that’s all,” Leslie said. “The stuff that separated you is all in the past now.”
“Hey, Shel?” Mack had walked to the window and stood looking out, his fresh beer unopened in his hand.
“Hold on, Leslie.” Shelby took the phone away from his mouth. “What’s up, Mack?”
“You might want to come look at this.”
“What is it?”
“Your barn. It’s on fire.”
19
Shelby stood at the window and watched his barn go up in flames. By the time Mack had noticed it, it was a lost cause. Flames licked through the windows and up through a hole in the roof.
“You want me to call it in?”
“No. I don’t want anyone snooping around here. It’s not insured. Unless it catches the trees, I’m not doing anything. Not much risk of forest fire this time of year.”
“You need anything out of there? We might be able to run in there and save a few things.”
“Nothing important. Let it go. Besides, it’s a sure thing the fire isn’t an accident, and there’s a decent chance they’re still out there, probably waiting to pick me off when I run outside to save my precious barn. Little do they know I don’t give a shit. The barn was on its last legs anyway. I should’ve had it torn down when I first bought the place.”
“You think it was the same men who have a freezer full of meth?”
“Could be. If it was, then they found out who I was.”
“Who else could it be?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
“Any ideas?”
“A couple.”
Mack took a peek around the curtains. “Looks like a car coming around your drive.”
Shelby followed his gaze. “Shit.”
“Someone you know?”
“It’s Carly.”
“Carly?”
“My thirty-year-old.”
“Oh, that Carly.” Mack straightened.
Shelby noticed Mack suck in his stomach and run a hand through his hair. Shelby wanted to make fun of him but had to admit he still did it himself. Men were vain, absurd creatures, constantly indulging in antics that fooled no one and served only to make themselves appear ridiculous.
As they watched, Carly parked the car and got out. She went around to the passenger side, opened the door, and bent over to retrieve something. Her tight jeans perfectly defined her shapely ass.
Shelby couldn’t help but glance at Mack to gauge his reaction. His friend stood mesmerized, the still-unopened beer clutched, forgotten, in his fist. Shelby reached over and snapped his fingers in Mack’s face.
“She’s taken.”
“Sweet mother, Shel. You are a rotten son of a bitch.”
“And don’t I know it.”
“What the hell does she see in you?”
“I couldn’t say. I guess I’m good in the sack.”
They were interrupted in their watch party as the window in the passenger side door of Carly’s car came alive with crawling spider web cracks. There was a shot. Carly screamed and disappeared behind the open car door.
“She’s been shot!” Shelby ran for the front door.
“Shel! Stop!”
Shelby ignored his friend and plunged outside. His pistol was still strapped to his side and he pulled it from its holster as he ran. With every step, he anticipated the dull impact of a rifle slug slamming into his body, but none came. He made it to the car and slid behind the car door, expecting to find Carly in a pool of blood. Instead, she was on her knees, braced against the car frame and surrounded by a brown, steaming pile.
“What the hell is that? Did you shit yourself?”
“Beef stew, you idiot,” Carly said. “Does it smell like shit? I was bringing you dinner. Who the hell is shooting at me?”
“I wish I knew. Are you hit?” Shelby gripped her arm.
Carly threw Shelby’s hand off of her arm. “No, I’m not hit. I’m pissed off.” She saw the gun. “What are you waiting for? Shoot the bastard!”
Shelby peered around the door and scanned the tree line. “I’d love to, but I don’t see—”
Another bullet punctured the side of the car, leaving a tidy hole in its wake.
“Shit. They’re still out there.”
Carly sniffed. “Is something on fire?”
“My barn.”
“I seem to have come at a bad time.”
“No, it’s always like this.”
Shelby risked a glance back and saw Mack waving at him through the kitchen window. His friend pointed at his own weapon, gestured toward the woods, and then waved them toward the house.
“Okay. I think Mack is going to lay down cover for us.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. As soon as you hear pistol fire from the house, make a run for the front door.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Silly girl.”
Mack opened u
p and they both rolled from the dubious safety of the car and ran for the house. The rifle barked once, twice. Bullets spat at the ground. They dove for the open door. Carly cried out and stumbled. Shelby grabbed her and almost threw her inside, moving past the doorframe ahead of another rifle shot that sent splinters showering around his head. He rolled to the side and then to his feet, slamming the door closed as he rose.
“Carly, are you hit?”
“No. I got a splinter or two in my ass, but I’m fine.”
Crouching low, Shelby moved into position at the nearest window.
“See anything?” he yelled to Mack.
“Not a damn thing. I have a general idea where the son of a bitch is, based on the trajectory of the shots, but I don’t have eyes on the shooter. Then again, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. I’ve been sending my shots down into that stand of scrub pine.”
Shelby saw what he was talking about. It was a group of ten to fifteen trees, closely grouped. It would be an ideal place for a shooter: dense, shadowed. He bent over to move below the windowsill and retrieved a pair of binoculars from their place on a shelf where they served as a bookend for his collection of Churchill’s history of the Second World War. Once back at the window, he trained the binoculars on the pines. He saw nothing at first, then stopped and took another look.
“Shit!” He dropped the binoculars and fell back as a bullet smashed through the window.
“You hit?” Mack called from the kitchen.
“No, but that was a close one,” Shelby said. “I was scanning the pines and found myself looking right down his rifle barrel. A second later and he would have drilled me. That’s where he’s holed up, all right.”
“Good. And me having reloaded.”
Mack sent a couple more rounds toward the target. Shelby took advantage of the distraction to reposition by the window. He smashed out the rest of the damaged window pane, aimed his pistol, and emptied the clip. When the gun clicked empty, he rolled away.
[Shelby Alexander 01.0] Serenity Page 8