Atonement

by Michael Kerr

  “Dale Purvis,” he gasped as he clutched his stomach with his good hand. “Carl’s brother.”

  “And the other guy?”

  “A friend. Johnny Wheeler.”

  Logan went back to Carl. Searched him and took his cell out of a pocket of the sheepskin jacket he was wearing. Ran through the list of numbers in it, found Lyle’s home number and pressed call.

  “Lyle Bumgarner.”

  “It’s Logan, Sheriff.”

  “And?”

  “Carl, his brother Dale and Johnny Wheeler just stopped me on the highway midway between town and the Wagon Wheel. They had baseball bats and bad intentions. I’m with them now. Do you want me to hang around, or can I keep on walking back to the Pinetop?”

  “Fuck! Stay there, Logan. I’m on my way.”

  Lyle made a call and then set off. Less than five minutes later he was parked in front of the 4x4 and walking up to where Logan was sitting at the side of the road with his arms wrapped round his knees and keeping his eyes on the three injured men.

  Logan got to his feet and shrugged. “You’re going to have to do something about this boy, Sheriff. He’s beginning to get me pissed. Every time we meet up he attacks me.”

  Lyle saw the three baseball bats on the ground. “You got anything to say?” he said, addressing Carl.

  “He broke my arm and fingers,” Carl whined.

  “There’s a unit on the way,” Lyle said. “You’re suspended from duty, Carl. And I strongly advise you to keep your mouth shut for the time being, because if Logan decides to press charges, you’re in deep shit.”

  “I’m happy for you to deal with this, Sheriff,” Logan said. “And if you don’t mind, I’ve had enough excitement for one evening and would like to make my way back to the motel and get some shuteye.”

  Lyle watched as Logan strolled off up the road, angled into the darkness of the woods and vanished from sight. Carl had brought the department into disrepute, and at very least was now unemployed.

  Kate stopped at the side of the road a couple of hundred yards from the Pinetop Motel at ten a.m. on Saturday morning. She needed to discuss some fine points of the still open case with Clifton and Ray. She had decided that if the perpetrator was not apprehended, and soon, then the sheriff might reconsider his position and arrest Ray again.

  Kate was thorough, took her work very seriously, and did all humanly possible to ensure that she covered everything and anything appertaining to whatever case she was working on. She had graduated from the prestigious William and Mary College, worked summers for Cavendish and Palmer Associates, passed the bar exam and was offered a permanent post with the Chicago-based firm. That had been back in two-thousand, before events seven years later had caused her to adjust her priorities and move to the back of beyond and start up in practice south of Denver, in Carson Creek.

  The main reason she had taken the Marshall boy on as a client was because of her own personal experience. She opened the car window next to her, lit a cigarette and let her thoughts return to a breezy autumn evening on a sidewalk in the Windy City.

  Kate was just fifty feet from the steps leading up to the entrance door of her apartment building. She was looking forward to a shower, a bite to eat, and maybe a glass or two of white wine before hitting the sack. It had been a long and hectic week, and she was ready for a lazy weekend, with no definite plans to do anything in particular.

  The attack was fast and overwhelming. Three men appeared from the mouth of an alley. One struck her in the temple with his fist, and the others grasped her around the waist and the neck. Within five seconds she had been dragged into the darkness, taken with frightening ease from the street into a world of physical pain and psychological trauma.

  They were full of anger. Called her a ‘fucking whore’ and said she was going to die. And as they kicked her in the head and body, and took it in turn to rape her, she fully believed that her time had come.

  A dog walker heard the commotion and phoned the police as her dog barked. The rapists took flight, leaving Kate for dead, lying in bloody disarray at the side of a stinking overfull dumpster. But thanks to the intervention of the passing stranger, Kate had survived and regained consciousness thirty-six hours later. Her jaw had been broken, and she had also suffered concussion, a ruptured spleen, several fractured ribs and a mass of deep bruising. Her injuries healed, but her mental state remained fragile. The incident left emotional scars as indelible as tattoos. Fear, anger, and a mistrust of men took center stage in her mind. From being outgoing and embracing the hustle and bustle of city life, she became insular and found it all but impossible for several weeks to leave the confines of her apartment.

  Three months later she was offered a settlement from the firm on medical grounds, and a short time thereafter looked at a road atlas and decided that Colorado was as good a place as any to metaphorically reinvent herself and begin a new chapter in her life. She knew that she would never live in a large city again. They were in part dangerous warrens, peopled by many lowlifes’ that had no respect for any other person. They took what they wanted, be it life, sex or property, with no compunction.

  Dispelling the past, Kate closed the window; put the car in drive and seconds later was parking in front of the Marshall household.

  This case meant a lot to her. She fully believed that Ray was innocent, and that an as yet unidentified killer was walking free, and probably lived in town. Her attackers had never been found. She fervently hoped that this one would be.

  Clifton came out of the house to greet her. They went inside and had coffee in the kitchen.

  “Ray’s still in bed,” Clifton said to Kate. “He’s not eating, and spends a lot of time crying. He’s finding it hard to accept that Tanya’s…gone.”

  “I’m sorry, Clifton. I hope that time deadens the pain a little for him. He’s young, so I’m sure that he’ll find a way to get past it and move on. We have to accommodate the worst as well as the best life throws at us.”

  “You’re right, Kate. No one said it was easy. What can I do for you?”

  “I just needed to run through it again with Ray from A to Z. But I can come back if now is a bad time.”

  “I’m okay,” Ray said, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “I just want whoever did that to Tanya to be caught. I hate myself. If I’d not been so fucking stupid, she would still be alive.”

  “If is the biggest word I know, Ray,” Kate said. “If only and what if are the beginning of phrases I hear a lot. Bottom line is, shit happens, and all we can hope to do is clear it up. You can never go back and change a damn thing, so however hard it seems at this moment in time, you have to go forward. And to do that we need to be confidant that you have exactly what happened ingrained on your mind. If they catch the murderer, then from a legal point of view it will be settled. But if you should end up in court as a witness or charged with the crime, then you cannot afford to alter a word of what happened. Change one thing and you would lose all credibility.”

  Ray liked Kate’s no-nonsense take on it, although he knew that if he lived to be a hundred he would always feel totally responsible for what had happened to Tanya.

  It was as if Kate could read his mind. “And you are not to blame for someone else’s actions, Ray. Whoever took Tanya’s life is wholly guilty.”

  Kate ran through the events of that fateful evening again, and covered some of the finer points. It was midday when she left the house. Logan was outside his room, sitting on a chair and holding a mug that she knew would contain coffee. She walked across to him, and he stood up to greet her.

  “Hi, Logan,” Kate said.

  Logan smiled. “Hi back at ya, Kate. You on top of this case now?”

  “With the pull tab you found, it’s looking good for Ray. What worries me is that we may have a sex fiend in our midst.”

  “You have,” Logan said. “I need some more caffeine. You want some?”

  Kate hesitated.

  “It’s a coffee I’m offering
you, not a proposal of marriage,” Logan said.

  Kate chuckled and nodded her head. “Okay, Logan, a coffee would be good. And what exactly happened last night? I hear rumors that you got in a brawl with your new buddy, Carl Purvis.”

  Logan went for the coffee. Came back out and handed her the steaming mug. “He, his brother and another moron stopped me on the highway,” he said. “I got the feeling it wasn’t to discuss the weather, and I was right. I confiscated their baseball bats and called the sheriff.”

  “Two of them are in hospital over in Colorado Springs.”

  “I thought I’d let them live to fight another day.”

  “Who are you, Logan?”

  “Just a guy with rambling fever.”

  “Sounds an out of the ordinary way to live your life.”

  “Suits me,” Logan said. “I’ve spent too much of my life in one place. Now I go where I want, when I want. I’ve got a severe case of wanderlust.”

  “Like a rolling stone, eh?”

  Logan nodded, “Exactly.”

  “Where are you heading next, when you leave the Creek?”

  “Haven’t thought about it. Probably south to warmer climes. Maybe southern Arizona. And I’ll be heading out within the hour.”

  Kate’s expression hardened. “That would complicate this case,” she said. “You’re involved. You found evidence and will probably be required as a witness for the defense.”

  “Not my problem,” Logan said. “The sheriff has my statement. And seeing as how the perp hasn’t been apprehended, and may never be, then I could be kicking my heels here until I’m even older and grayer.”

  “Don’t you care that Ray still isn’t out of the woods over this?”

  “The sheriff knows that the boy is innocent. I’m a civilian, not a cop.”

  “You were a cop. And you could probably solve this. Lyle is a good man, but hasn’t a lot of experience of homicide. The biggest thing that’s happened since I came to town was a fatal hit and run, and the driver turned himself in the day after.”

  “So you think I should run down a killer on my own? I’m not the Lone Ranger, Tonto.”

  “You’ve obviously got nothing better to do, kemo sabe. And whoever killed Tanya Roberts may strike again. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Logan sighed. Perhaps if Kate had been a guy and not a beautiful woman that he was attracted to, he would have said, ‘No, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been involved with violent death for most of my adult life, and am a little hardened to it’. But instead he said, “There are thousands of bad things happening all over the world every minute of every day, Kate. It bothers me, but it’s a sad fact of life. There will always be predators and prey.”

  “You aren’t anywhere else in the world, Logan. You’re here, now, and you did involve yourself. Clifton and Ray still need your help.”

  Logan thought about it. It wasn’t in his nature to leave loose ends. His clothing and the money he had taken from a gangster’s hitman in West Virginia were already packed in his rucksack, ready to go, but he felt a little obliged to hang around after what Kate had said. “Okay, you win,” he said. “I’ll give it a few more days, but it’ll cost you.”

  “Cost me?” Kate said.

  “Yeah, a steak meal, when you’ve got a free evening.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Logan walked into the sheriff’s department and asked to see Lyle. Kate had dropped him off. Said she would call him later at the motel. He had told her that he would contact her if and when he had anything new.

  Lyle came out front and walked him back to his office. “You’re outstaying your welcome, Logan,” he said. “I think that now would be a good time to move on to pastures new.”

  “You mean before Carl is fit enough to get himself into more trouble?”

  “That’s one good reason. He’s lost his job, and maybe he really is stupid enough to want some payback.”

  “I can look after myself, Sheriff.”

  “I’ve noticed, but―”

  “When you find the girl’s killer I’ll be out of your hair. At the moment I don’t think you’re anywhere near.”

  “It’s not your problem, Logan.”

  “I’ve decided that it is my problem, because you’re not making any progress. It’s your town, and you need to be seen to be more proactive.”

  “I’ll let that go, seeing as how you’re an ex-cop, Logan. But don’t push me.”

  “If I don’t push you, who will?” You’re top dog here, and the townsfolk need to see you working this case.”

  “Goddamnit Logan, when I get a lead, I’ll follow it.”

  “Here’s one, free of charge. I not only believe that the killer is local; I’ve got a hunch that he was out at the Wagon Wheel that night. If he took the long route back to town after having too much to drink, he could have crossed paths with Tanya. The place will have a record of anyone that had reserved a table that evening. And if the CCTV cameras I saw outside of it work, then even if it was just a guy that called in for a few beers, he’ll be on tape.”

  “Where did that line of thought come from?”

  “From remaining open-minded and considering all possibilities. This wasn’t a planned attack, so the guy wasn’t a predator just hoping that he would get lucky. He was an opportunist, on his way home. He saw a chance to connect and it went belly-up.”

  Lyle wanted a result, and had the sense to realize that Logan was more than just a capable investigator. He was someone of value, to use as an aid. “So whatever I say, you’ll just keep on digging like some TV PI. Right?”

  “Right”

  “I’m a proud man, Logan, but not stupid. I expect you to give me anything else you come across. I want to find the perp as much as you do.”

  Logan nodded. “And what can you tell me about the barkeep at the Wagon Wheel?”

  “Ned Williams?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Promise me that you won’t put him in hospital.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Because he’s Carl’s uncle. And he doesn’t just tend bar, he owns the joint.”

  It fitted. Williams had phoned his nephew and told him that Logan was propping up the bar. That’s how the Three Stooges had known where to come looking with their baseball bats.

  “Family ties are always tight in hick towns, Sheriff. I suppose that’s the big difference between them and big cities. I’ll let it go with Williams, if he keeps off my radar.”

  “Is that it?” Lyle said.

  “For now,” Logan replied and left the building, unmindful of two deputies that gave him looks that would turn milk sour.

  Lyle drove out to the Wagon Wheel to have a word with Ned. Made small talk, accepted a cup of coffee and then got down to business.

  “You made a big mistake last night, Ned,” Lyle said.

  “How’d you figure that, Lyle?”

  “You knew that Carl was pissed at Logan. When Logan came in here for a meal, you made a call. I daresay you know what happened later.”

  “That’s speculative, Lyle.”

  “Doesn’t really worry me. Logan seems to be able to take care of himself, and he knows the connection.”

  Ned paled. Logan had been a very big, fit-looking guy. “So you’ve put me in his sights, Lyle?”

  “I happened to mention that you and Carl are related, Ned. You reap what you sow. But I’ve asked him to give you a break, seeing as how you’re going to help me out by handing over the tapes you probably have from the night of the Foster girl’s murder.”

  “I can’t help you with that, Lyle. They get reused. If nothing untoward happens I have no reason to use fresh ones.”

  That figured. “So let’s test your memory. I need the names of any guys from town that were in that evening. Take your time and write them down for me.”

  He went into town and listened to what had happened. There was only one subject on everyone’s lips, and for a change it wasn’t the weather or the stat
e of the nation in general. He didn’t have to ask anything. The Creek was like a bush telegraph. Anything that broke the day-to-day pattern was run through like a loop, over and over, to be picked as clean as road kill, and the murder was still unsolved and hot gossip.

  He knew that the sheriff would have been happy to charge Ray Marshall, ship him to Denver and let him take the fall. But a stranger in town had found evidence that all but cleared the boy. He recalled seeing him; a tall guy wearing cheap clothes. He could obviously handle himself, because Carl, his brother and Johnny Wheeler had gone up against him with baseball bats and come off a poor second. Word had it that his name was Logan, and that he was a drifter. The worrying news was that he was also an ex-cop, and that he was looking out for the Marshall kid’s interests. And Kate Donner was also in the picture and seemed to be tight with Logan.

  Adjusting his shades, he went into the Steamboat Diner. Sat at the counter on a stool and ordered coffee from Amy.

  “Hi, Larry,” Amy said. “Haven’t seen you for a few days. Have you been away?”

  “No, Amy,” he said. “Just takin’ time out to give this back of mine time to settle down a little. Reckon I’ll be needin’ surgery on it before long. Most I’ve been able to do of late is sit next to the lake with my fishin’ pole.”

  “You hear about the trouble?”

  “Yeah, it’s a tragedy over what happened to Wayne and Shirley’s daughter; and a shock to hear that Ray Marshall may be responsible for it.”

  “He looked to be guilty as hell, but a guy by the name of Logan found some evidence that puts him in the clear.”

  “You know this Logan?”

  “Wouldn’t say I know him as such. He eats in here regularly, but doesn’t have a lot to say for himself. What I know about the guy is secondhand. He just turned up out of the blue and has been staying at the Pinetop for a couple of weeks. Seems to be friendly with Kate Donner.”