“Not good. With the fall he took he’s probably paralyzed from a spinal injury. He’s in a coma and of course can’t talk. The paramedics on board Lifestar said the trauma team is waiting at the hospital. Did you talk to anyone at the Jacks Bluff?”
“Lola Ruth knows why the DPS chopper was here, but I only told her someone was lost and you all were looking for them.”
“She’s a talker for sure. She probably had you corralled for an hour just yakking. But that’s one woman I want to keep on my side. She can tell me more without me even asking questions than anybody I know,” Scott said.
“Has anyone told Rainey?”
“Yes. I went up to the main house and I got her. I assigned a deputy to her and got her here in time to ride in Lifestar to Amarillo. I received a report that they should be landing at the hospital any moment.”
Scott paused, probably trying to figure out how many more ways he could use the word I, then continued, “I thought you might go tell Sylvie. What about his mother? I know she’s afflicted with Alzheimer’s and is in no condition to understand what has happened. Why don’t I just leave the tellin’ to you, while I continue working the case?” Scott shook his head. “I’ve got a lot ahead of me. Since Deuce probably won’t be coming back any time soon...maybe never, I’ll have to take over, since I’m next in line. Of course, that’ll only be until the Commissioners Court names me sheriff permanently, in the worst scenario. Gonna go by the office and check on things. I’m not the only one who needs sleep.”
“You’re exhausted and I’m sure your wife wants to see you. I’ll be okay to watch over things. We’ll rotate people, so everyone can catch a few winks. This will give me some time to think things through.” Brody felt totally drained and knew the full magnitude of the situation hadn’t hit him yet.
“Get a few hours’ sleep, Scott. You deserve it.”
Brody’s legs shook as he got back in his vehicle. Silence grew tight with tension and apprehension all around him. His chest was about to burst open because his heart was beating so fast.
In his career he’d witnessed bodies lying in fields for days, even months, and child abuse that would make the best lawman in the world get light in the head and want to vomit.
There were some things in life that once they’ve been seen they cannot be unseen—or unsmelled—but the knowledge that someone had tried to kill his best friend and a fellow lawman made him sicker than anything he’d experienced in his career.
Deuce was too smart, not to mention familiar with the area around the ravine, to have accidentally fallen down the side. The two friends had hunted too many times on the land for the sheriff not to have realized the flow of the ravine, with or without daylight. Plus, he would have never left on foot without his flashlight.
Anxiety made Brody’s stomach churn, and he lifted his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. But the idea that Deuce could be laid up a while and Brody would have to work under Chief Deputy Scott was truly more undesirable than putting his life on the line every waking hour. He could tolerate Scott but didn’t always appreciate the way he went about doing things, and sometimes, actually most of the time, Scott’s ego was way too big for his britches
But still, there was something in the way Scott handled the investigation that bothered Brody big time. But he would not throw out accusations of another lawman until he had facts. There was no way in hell Scott, although he was a total a-hole, would harm the sheriff. If and when the time came that he was convinced Scott had something to do with Deuce’s injuries, he’d be the first one to step forward and lay out all the facts like any other case.
Brody needed to go by the office, so he headed that direction with thoughts of Deuce heavy on his mind. Brody had already committed to the sheriff that he’d move over to Kasota Springs, so he wouldn’t renege on the deal.
You don’t do that type of thing to your friends.
And friends they were. Actually, more brothers than friends.
He’d first met Deuce on the University of Texas football field. The first day of workouts in their freshman year. They enjoyed a great relationship on and off the field. He recalled how happy he was for his friend when the Steelers drafted Deuce and just as sad when they released him because of a broken femur. Together they rode the bubble of happiness until one day it burst. By that time, Brody had already gone into law enforcement and encouraged his friend to do the same.
Whether Deuce was incapacitated one day or the rest of his life, as Scott seemed to think, Brody owed it to Deuce to stay with Bonita County.
That’s what friends do. The thoughts continued to repeat as though there were a parrot in his head mocking him.
Driving back into town, the first thing he did was go by the antique store to talk to Sylvie. A note on the door read “Closed for the Day.” That told him she had already gotten the news about Deuce and had likely gone to the hospital to be with Rainey, who had no family in town.
Quickly stopping by the sheriff’s department, Brody had little explanation to do since the majority of the deputies had had enough of Danny Scott and had found reasons to get out of the office. The relief dispatcher, a woman he only knew as Thelma, told him Chief Deputy Scott had sent the regular deputy, Jessup, home for some rest, since as a volunteer, she could work a few more hours. She told Brody that she had everyone’s phone number to call in case they were needed. Thelma apologized for not having Brody’s personal phone, but she added it to the list and recited the phone number back to him.
Whether the relief dispatcher knew of Deuce’s and Brody’s agreement for him to work permanently out of Bonita County, he didn’t know. After a brief thought of mentioning it crossed his flooded mind, he immediately considered coming up with an excuse to leave but he had some work he needed to do first. Staying might open the door to more questions than he was willing to answer right now. Leaving well enough alone was good.
A wave and an If you need me, call, didn’t seem adequate, but Brody wasn’t up to any more discussions, except to ask Thelma for two envelopes.
Back in his office, he located a legal pad and wrote a To Whom It May Concern letter. Of course, to make a copy he had to face Thelma, who sipped on a cup of coffee but didn’t try to engage him into conversation.
Returning to his privacy, Brody placed the letters in the envelopes and addressed them, then pulled a worn-out stamp from his billfold and stuck it on one. He slid the envelope in his shirt pocket beneath his jacket.
He strolled to Scott’s desk and placed the second envelope in the middle drawer where it couldn’t be missed.
On his way out of the back entrance, he stopped by the small lunchroom and grabbed an individual package of cookies and a bottle of energy drink that Thelma used her coupon hobby to keep the department stocked with.
No one except Deuce and Brody knew he had agreed to work out of Bonita County permanently, thus giving up most of his undercover stings. He had no reason to believe his rank would change, so he’d continue being lieutenant detective assigned to special crimes. Same rank. Same offices, but working on different cases.
Realization hit him that he hadn’t slept in two days. Nor had he eaten much of anything except the cookies and energy drink. He wasn’t sure he could keep his vehicle on the road long enough to get all the way to Amarillo, so after stopping by the post office’s outside drop box and dropping in the envelope, he headed toward his ranch, just west of Deuce’s ranch.
Brody didn’t have any Lone Star beer at the WBarT, but knew of at least one fifth of Black Jack in the cupboard.
Within minutes, he unlocked the door to the rustic ranch house and reset the alarm. Quickly, he secured his service firearm and put his personal weapon in the drawer of the end table. After opening and slamming shut three cabinet doors, he found his favorite glass and poured in four fingers of Jack Daniel’s. Planting his feet wide apart, he took two swigs of the whiskey t
hen refilled it.
In the living room, Brody switched on the television and plopped down on the sofa. He swore the dust he stirred up was similar to the Dust Bowl days of the 1930s. Maybe even worse. But then what could he expect from a six-foot, four-inch man who weighed over two hundred pounds flopping down on the cushions like a wrecking ball causing an old building to implode.
He finished off the whiskey and refilled his glass with another two fingers then placed it on the dusty end table. He guessed if he planned to stay on the ranch much, he needed to hire a housekeeper. Or, at least, someone to organize everything where he could find it. He’d given his sister and brother-in-law permission to come out to the WBarT any time they wished. Apparently, they either had never taken him up on his offer or didn’t give a hoot about cleaning, which meant Winnie, the queen of clean, had not been there.
Brody looked up when Chief Deputy Scott’s voice coming over the television airwaves penetrated his thoughts. Scott was in the midst of an interview with an Amarillo TV anchor, telling the world about Deuce being in critical condition after an apparent attack. And, Chief Deputy Scott was hot on the trail of the person responsible for the sheriff’s near-fatal injuries, as if he was the only deputy working the case. Scott rambled on in an authoritative way, promising he wouldn’t stop until the perpetrator was brought to justice.
The last thing Brody heard before he clicked off the TV was how Scott would protect the citizens of Bonita County as chief deputy. There were more I’s than We’s, as expected.
Brody wouldn’t allow himself to lose control, although he was tempted to throw his glass and the bottle of Tennessee whiskey across the room. Instead, he let Scott’s comments roll off his back as if he’d thrown a bucket of water on Brody.
He directed his attention across the room to his football memorabilia in cabinets with sliding glass doors on either side and beneath the windows. He wanted to go over and examine each individual piece. He needed security, comfort, and his signed footballs, pictures and helms had always done the job. He could remember almost every birthday one of the items his mother and daddy had given him. Even an old girlfriend or two. Most were given to him by Deuce during his football days.
But as much as he wanted to spend time with his special assortment of souvenirs, his legs didn’t feel like they could make it across the room.
After he took another swig of whiskey, he balanced his thoughts between sleeping on the sofa, dust and all, and going to his bedroom. He was sure there were no sheets on the huge four-poster antique bed, plus the couch was closer.
It had been one hell of a day and the days to come were certain to be equally as bad, if not worse.
As exhausted, both mentally and physically, as he felt, Brody chose to go to the basement, where he had a full gym. After putting on hand wraps and boxing gloves, he took out his frustration on his punching bag. Although he did a relatively mild workout for him, he walked back upstairs guaranteed to sleep.
Tomorrow, he’d go to Amarillo and check on Deuce for himself. He needed to talk with Rainey and see if he could help handle Sylvie with the antique shop in the ol’ Rock Island Railroad Depot. And if he could lend a hand with Deuce’s mother at the nursing home.
Just as he closed his eyes, the face of a beautiful woman appeared. A sexy as hell lady, who he felt certain would relieve some of his frustration and heartache. Avery Scarlett O’Hara.
Brody was so exhausted he wasn’t sure his mind hadn’t played tricks on him and there was not even a woman at the festival dressed as Scarlett O’Hara. Maybe she was nothing more than a character in a dream. She was too perfect to be a living, breathing woman.
As the memories of the kisses returned one by one, there was no doubt in his mind that a Miss Avery with no last name existed and he could sure use her smile and a tender kiss right now.
Like a building collapsing, the realization of the day’s activities tumbled down around him. Tears were close to surfacing. There was only one other time he’d cried as a lawman. The day they buried Deuce’s father in Denton, a sheriff killed in the line of duty. No way could this happen to two people in the same family, but in reality he knew of more cases than he wished to talk about. He sent up a silent prayer for Deuce and those killed in the line of duty. He’d held back the emotions as long as he could.
He needed to go back downstairs and work out again. Harder than before, to release his anger and frustration, but instead hot tears welled in his eyes. He clinched his fist, and the urge to throw the glass returned.
Brody took another drink.
From the back of the sofa he drew the quilt his grandmother had made for him when he was in college. He shook off most of the dust, wrapped the old muslin around his body, and settled into the cushions of the sofa. The tighter he pulled the quilt around him, the tighter he held back the emotions. Like a pot of boiling water overflowing, hot tears rolled down his cheeks and landed on his arm.
His whole world had been turned upside-down.
Way in the back of his mind, memories lolled around, reminding him of his days in the police academy. The lectures about a lawman being just another human with emotions, but they weren’t allowed to show them except in private. And, privacy he had for the first time in months, along with a deep stabbing hurt in his heart.
If only he could go back. Even one day. Maybe he could have changed the world around him, especially for his best friend.
Brody did as he always found himself doing when he’d observed a murder victim or some unsavory bastard who beat his wife or shot up a house full of people. He wept aloud, pulling the quilt tighter and tighter, wishing he could go back and do yesterday all over again.
Sleep overtook him, but the nightmares remained.
What is seen can never be unseen….
Chapter 8
Avery Danielle Humphrey sat in the kitchen impatiently waiting for her cup of tea to brew. Weak arms propped on the table held up her head, but that was the only way she could stop her nagging headache. She’d taken niacin and aspirin, but so far there was no real relief.
Knowing a good run and fresh air would help, she went upstairs and showered. Hot, steamy water helped a lot to clear her head but did little to stop the thoughts of the sounds she’d heard during her restless night.
Although she’d not lived in Kasota Springs for many years, she recognized something serious, very serious, had gone on during the night. Not just the cop in her that felt the urgency, but the sirens, the DPS helicopter, and Lifestar. Each helicopter had a distinctive sound, plus she recognized the infrared beams, which meant a search of some type. Coupled with the other things she had seen when she was sitting in the square with Brody, trouble saturated the morning air.
And there was nothing she could do about it, not even assist in the hunt. With her expertise, she’d be a great resource, yet she’d have to tell Brody the truth, the reality about her job in Houston.
That would have definitely caused an unnecessary distraction, plus open a gate to allow one lie after another to escape. She couldn’t afford to tell the story that ate at her daily to a stranger...not yet.
This complication left the door unfastened for Avery to make another decision weighing heavy on her heart. And it wasn’t about Brody VanZant, either, especially since he worked with multi-units and she had no idea what agency or county he was employed by. Possibly Bonita County, possibly another one.
When Deuce got back in the office on Monday morning, she might, just might, approach him for a job. That was, if she decided to stick around. From what she’d learned about the sheriff, he was fair to a fault, honest to the core, and had scruples of a five-star general.
Since Deuce and Brody were best friends, she’d think he’d have those same qualities. Again, she had to remind herself the thoughts concerning staying in town had to do with her parents, not Brody.
At the moment, it was her feeling, d
epending on the advice of her parents, that she’d return to Kasota Springs and leave the big city behind. But there was a lot of thought that needed to be put into the issue.
After dressing in running clothes, she came downstairs and fixed another cup of tea. Realizing the water was hot, she got up, tossed the K-Cup in the trash, and took her drink back to the table. Thoughts scrambling inside her head only increased her headache. Oh, how she wanted to go to where the sounds of emergency vehicles seemingly had come from. Since Mesa had said she’d be working all morning with the ranch hands taking care of the rough stock from the rodeo, Dannie didn’t want to bother her. She’d see her later in the day and would find out.
Of course, she knew Brody, as well as Sheriff Cowan, was probably still at the accident scene. All depending on what the scenario had been. Probably an automobile accident, but then why call out all units unless it was a multi-vehicle scene?
And that still didn’t answer why the DPS helicopter was out using infrared imagery.
She blew on the hot liquid and ran her hand across her forehead. The other question that had kept her awake was the deal with the young man she had seen leaving from the back of the sheriff’s department offices who had walked off into the dark directly where the noise of emergency vehicles had come from.
Possibly the real reason she hadn’t been able to sleep were the thoughts of Brody VanZant and his kisses. Those feelings eventually ended up with her wondering how he was going to take the secret that she’d kept from him. Had he ever been in the same position? Many lawmen and women had been. All cops had been trained for her situation; however, most people in law enforcement had never experienced it for real. She wasn’t the only detective who had missed a shot, not taken one, or had their partner protect them by stepping between them and the shooter.
The thoughts caused too much ache in her heart. Avery turned her attention back to her tea and drained the cup. She needed to go over to the antique shop and return her costume from the festival. Mesa had said they’d be open Sunday as a convenience. Avery also needed to apologize to Rainey for messing up their evening.
Out of a Texas Night Page 8