Drift

by L T Ryan

  “Didn’t mean to.”

  The female deputy eyed Hatch carefully. She seemed nervous, looking beyond Hatch in the direction she’d just come from. Maybe word about last night’s bar incident had already snaked its way to the ear of the Sheriff. She watched the deputy’s hands. They moved toward her patrol belt and she tucked her thumbs in beneath the front buckle.

  Was the deputy here to arrest her? she wondered. Hard to tell from the woman’s posture.

  “I’m Deputy Sinclair with the Sheriff’s office. You must be Rachel Hatch?”

  “People just call me Hatch.” She stopped a few feet from the woman and looked around. Sinclair was alone. Not a typical tactic if one was planning on making an arrest. But Hawk’s Landing was a small department, and it was possible they didn’t have the manpower to follow traditional protocols. “What can I do for you, Deputy?”

  “Becky is fine.”

  “Okay, Becky, what can I do for you? I seriously doubt you came out here to admire the view.”

  She cleared her throat. “The Sheriff would like to see you?”

  “Is this some informal Hawk’s Landing way of saying I’m under arrest?”

  Sinclair looked uncomfortable at the question, and she began to nervously drum her fingers on the plastic of the buckle. “No. At least I don’t think so. I mean, Sheriff Savage knows about last night—what happened with Bill Chisolm and all. Hell, everybody knows.”

  Great, thought Hatch. The small-town speed of gossip had always been fast, but the flow of information was probably made faster by things like Facebook and Twitter. The social media craze hadn’t really taken hold when she lived here fifteen years ago.

  “Not sure I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Hatch said, not comfortable with self-incrimination.

  “I’m not here to arrest you. This isn’t some tricky way of getting you to tell me what went down last night. And for what it’s worth—that asshole had it coming for a long time now. I, for one, am glad it came at the hand of a woman.”

  It seemed like the deputy was on her side in the matter, but Hatch didn’t let her guard down. She’d used this tactic numerous times during her time as an interrogator, working to build trust by showing support. The idea was to lower a person’s guard until they let something slip.

  “How’d you find me?”

  Sinclair was caught off guard by the question, hesitating briefly before answering. “Um—well—I followed you.”

  Hatch bit the inside of her lip, punishing herself for being careless. She’d been well trained to remain vigilant of her surroundings but allowed tunnel vision to get the best of her. It wouldn’t happen again. “Followed me?”

  Sinclair sighed, shrinking slightly. “After you went onto old Jed Russell’s place, the Sheriff was concerned you weren’t going to heed his warning to steer clear of the case. So, he assigned me to keep an eye on you.” Her thin lips curled up into a smile, looking at her truck and then back toward the lake. “Looks like he was right.”

  Hatch shrugged, stuffing her hands into her pocket. It was a test of sorts. If Sinclair was intent on arresting her, she would address the hands in her pocket. If this was a casual conversation, it wouldn’t worry her. Sinclair didn’t react to the movement. “I was just out for a morning hike.”

  “Just a coincidence then that this happens to be the same area where your sister was found?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Listen, Hatch, we want to figure this thing out as much as you do.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “I knew her, too. Olivia was a good person. We weren’t close, but I saw her around town all the time. In fact, I’d bump into her almost every morning at Tomlin’s Bakery. Your sister always ordered the same thing, a blueberry scone and vanilla latte. She usually got it to go, but every once in a while, we’d sit and chat.”

  “You see my sister around town and think you’re on equal footing with me about the need to solve this thing?”

  Sinclair cowered at Hatch’s retort. “All I’m saying is we’re on the same team here.”

  “We’ll see about that after I speak with Savage.”

  Curiosity got the best of Sinclair. “Did you find anything down there?”

  “No. Looks like you all got everything during the initial investigation.”

  Hatch wasn’t sure about Sinclair, or the sheriff’s office for that matter, and decided now wasn’t the time to talk about the dump site she’d located and the tire tracks leading away from it.

  “So, I’ll let him know you’ll be on your way?”

  “Aren’t you going to follow me?”

  “Not sure I’ll be able to. You drive like a crazy person. I actually lost you for a bit this morning. Took me a while to find your truck after you turned onto the lake road.”

  “Never been much for speed limits. See them more as a caution sign for inept drivers.”

  “I can see that.”

  Hatch got into her F150 and pulled out onto the roadway, quickly losing sight of the deputy and her SUV behind a curve in the road. She had other places to visit this morning and hoped the unexpected detour to meet with Savage wouldn’t interfere.

  11

  “I’ve seen more of you this week than my own granddaughter, who I might add is just about your age.” The woman seated behind the glass smiled. “I failed to introduce myself the other day. Things were a bit crazy around here. I’m Barbara Wright.”

  Hatch inhaled Barbara’s perfume, which lingered just beyond the counter. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wright—officially, I mean.”

  “Please, just call me Barbara. The missus stuff makes me sound old.” She gave a friendly wink.

  Hatch gave a rare smile. “I think Sheriff Savage is expecting me.”

  “I am.”

  Dalton Savage stood in the doorway. He wore a pair of well-worn jeans and a brown button-up long-sleeved shirt, the silver star pinned above the pocket. He had a ruggedness to his features, well-suited for this town’s landscape. If he’d been wearing a Stetson, the ensemble would’ve been complete. The Marlboro Man would be jealous.

  “Sheriff, you wanted to see me?”

  He stepped aside, opening the door wide and ushering her in.

  Hatch felt as though she was back in grade school and had been sent to the principal’s office. A feeling she had multiple experiences from which to draw comparison. She moved past Savage, and he fell in behind her.

  The hallway was narrow but quickly opened up into an office space with a cluster of desks in the center. Deputy Littleton was typing at a computer, using the painfully slow hunt and peck method. Didn’t every Millennial grow up with a computer in hand these days? He’d probably quadruple his output had he been able to use his phone and text the report.

  Littleton, seeing her enter, perked up and waved. The young deputy reminded her of a puppy dog, eager but relatively clueless. Hatch nodded, acknowledging him.

  She turned and faced Savage. “Where are we doing this?”

  “In my office.”

  He took the lead, stepping around her as he moved to the open office door on the far side of the room. As he passed, Hatch smelled black licorice again. With no formaldehyde to overtake the scent this time, it was more pronounced.

  Hatch stood as Savage took his seat behind the cluttered desk. There were partially filled boxes scattered about the floor. She couldn’t tell if it was old stuff to be discarded or his things left in mid-stages of unpacking.

  “Don’t mind the mess. I’m not normally this disorganized.”

  “I don’t judge. I’ve basically lived out of an Army duffle most of my adult life. If I couldn’t fit it in, then it never made my next move. Traveling light has always worked for me.”

  “Maybe that’s a better way to live.”

  “The jury’s still out on that.”

  Savage pushed aside a stack of papers. “Have a seat. Grab you a cup of coffee? Some water?”

  “No offense, but I don’t plan on spe
nding much time here.”

  “In town or in my office.”

  “Neither if I can help it.”

  “Let’s slow things down a bit.” Savage eyed the chair near where Hatch was standing. “Please, have a seat. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Hatch heard the change in the man’s tone; a slight firmness filtered into his otherwise laid-back demeanor. It was clear enough for her to notice, so she decided to pick her battles.

  “Okay.”

  Pulling the chair toward the desk, Hatch sat with eyes firmly fixed on the Sheriff’s. She wouldn’t play coy. And she definitely wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her current surroundings. She’d sat across from terrorist leaders who had wanted her dead. This was pleasant in comparison.

  “I did a little digging into your background.”

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “Not really. Not to say you’re not interesting. I’m just saying there isn’t much out there about you. Your military record is pretty light for somebody who served the better part of fifteen years.”

  “Not for nothing, but how’d you get access to my military record?”

  “Like I said before, I wasn’t always local. I networked and built up some solid connections in a wide variety of arenas during my time in Denver. Been assigned to a few federal task forces, including the FBI’s Counter Terrorism Unit. There were military attaches in supporting roles.”

  “And so you reached out to an old Army buddy and had him poke around?”

  “I did.”

  “You know that’s illegal. There are reasons why obtaining military records outside of proper channels isn’t allowed. Some things aren’t privy to the general population.”

  Savage glanced down at a pile of papers to his right. “In the end, it didn’t really matter anyway because there’s not much to it. Most of your service history was redacted.”

  “Or beyond the means and abilities of your contact.”

  Savage raised an eyebrow. “Kind of hard to believe if you knew who my point of contact is. He’s a pretty powerful player within the Department of Defense.”

  Hatch said nothing. She knew why they couldn’t access her records, but there was no need explaining it to the Sheriff of Hawk’s Landing. Whoever his contact was, high ranking official or not, there were only a few who had access to her and the members of her old unit.

  “You did rack up an impressive list of awards. Whatever you did, classified or otherwise, it appears you served admirably. That being said, I’ve got to ask—why did you get out after fifteen years of service? Five years, and you’d be on a full retirement.”

  “Medical.” Usually this was enough to shut down most follow-up questions, but she could see from Savage’s face, he was already prepared with another.

  “Is that what the Purple Heart was for?”

  Hatch nodded but didn’t want to go into the details. It was a story she shared with few and one she wasn’t ready to discuss with a man she hardly knew. “I hope you didn’t call me in for this. Going over my military history seems like a gigantic waste of time. Why worry about me and my past when you’ve got a real case to work going on in the here and now.”

  “Because you’ve made it a point of looking into your sister’s case. And I’m thorough in what I do. I can’t have you poking around this case on your own.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’re getting in the way of my investigation.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve got one of my three deputies assigned to keep an eye on you.”

  “Doesn’t seem like the most effective use of your limited manpower.”

  “It isn’t, but I heard about the assault last night.”

  “What assault?”

  “C’mon, Hatch, do we really need to do this? Are you going to fight me every step of the way? I’d like to think we’re on the same team here.” Frustration was layered thick in his plea as Savage methodically rubbed at his temples.

  “So, that’s the real reason you brought me here—to talk about last night?” Hatch shifted back in her chair, expanding her peripheral vision to include the door to Savage’s office. She didn’t want one of his deputies to pop in to make the arrest. Her mind was still not fully convinced this wasn’t a slow country way of doing business.

  An uneasiness shrouded her. She couldn’t let them arrest her. Hatch was already operating at a disadvantage in working the case, arriving several days after Olivia’s body had been discovered. Leads in homicide investigations dried up quickly with the passage of time. Every hour mattered in a death investigation.

  Hatch committed her mind; nobody was going to be putting handcuffs on her today. The odds against her were daunting with two deputies and the Sheriff inside the station, but she’d faced worse and come out on top. And those were trained men. This ragtag group would be at a disadvantage should she try to escape. The downside, if it came to that, would be she would be on the run while trying to solve a murder.

  Decisions like this were simple at their core—act before reacting, commit fully and adapt to the variables. These were lessons taught by her father at an early age and honed under the crucible of her Army training.

  Savage watched her and must’ve sensed her unease. “I’m not going to arrest you. I heard about Chisolm getting his ass handed to him. I also heard he was seconds away from caving in a girl’s face. Plus, a big guy like him would never make a formal statement of being beaten up by a woman. They’d pull his man card.”

  “Then what? Why am I here?”

  The Sheriff leaned forward and his voice hushed to a whisper. “I’d like to ask for your assistance.”

  “My assistance? How so?”

  Savage reached into his drawer and pulled out a silver starred badge, resting it on the desk. “I know you’ve got the investigative experience. One of the members of my Homicide Unit in Denver was former Army CID. He had a depth of knowledge that proved very useful on the cases we worked together. He’d told me about some of his cases.”

  “Let me get this straight, I beat a guy up in a bar while sticking my nose in your investigation and you think offering me a job is the best course of action?”

  “I trust my gut and I need another real investigator on this. You’re already doing the work anyway, might as well put it to good use.”

  “I don’t plan on sticking around here when this is over. Don’t really need a job.”

  “It’s temporary. When this is done, you can cut and run.”

  Hatch sat quietly, processing the sheriff’s train of thought.

  “Ever heard of posse comitatus?” Savage didn’t wait for Hatch to answer. “It’s an old law that never came off the books here in Colorado. Basically, it allows a sheriff to deputize a citizen for a specific task. It was used back in the day with more regularity but has been utilized in recent years in places like Hinsdale County when the local sheriff was murdered. It was used in Larimer County in response to a devastating flood. And I’m invoking it now with you, here in Hawk’s Landing.”

  “And you want me to work for you?”

  “It’s better than working against me. What’s that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Plus, I could use your eye on this case.” Savage shot a glance toward the outer office. Littleton was trying to work the copier with great difficulty. “My department is limited in experience. And this case is proving to be well above their skill level. I really could use an extra hand around here. Somebody who knows their way around a crime scene and can see things others can’t.”

  “How do you know I’m capable?”

  “You quickly picked up some oddities during the autopsy. And you were digging around the initial crime scene this morning. For starters, it tells me you’ve got good instincts. It’s what I would’ve done if the roles were reversed.”

  “I can probably get more accomplished without being tied down by the procedural rules and regulations.”

  Savage
pushed the badge closer. “It will give you an all access pass into the investigation, so you don’t have to be such a continual pain in my ass.”

  “Who says wearing that thing will change that?” Hatch picked up the tin badge and rolled it between her fingers.

  “Well, for starters you’d know a small needle mark was found in her right foot near her big toe.”

  “Not sure what you’re implying, but my sister wasn’t an addict.”

  “I didn’t say she was. But it’s something we’re looking into. I’m still waiting to hear back on the bloodwork. Things move a little slower on that end around here. I miss the ability I had to expedite things back in the big city. Working on getting the lab to move this to the front burner is like pushing a boulder uphill.”

  “I’m telling you I know my sister. You’re looking in the wrong direction. Drugs were never her thing. Even out here in rural Colorado, she never once smoked marijuana when all her friends were doing it back in high school.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time. Things can change. People change.” Savage softened. “I’ve seen it before—people using in secret. They shoot up in their foot because the marks are less noticeable. Hell, we almost missed it during the autopsy. The doc didn’t catch it until after we left, and he was about to put her back into the locker.”

  Hatch wanted to scream and grab the man by the collar. Her sister didn’t do drugs. But something stopped her from saying anything. The anger she felt was directed more at herself and not the man seated before her. She’d been out of her sister’s life for years. Maybe things had gotten so bad Olivia had sought escape in a needle. Hard to swallow. But Hatch had seen some tough operators follow a similar path when trying to run from the invisible scars of war.

  “I will add that I don’t think this was the case with your sister. There were no other signs of abuse and no other track marks to indicate any prior use. But if I’m going to do justice by your sister, then I need to explore all the angles. And if you’re going to help out, you should, too.”