Not long after she’d showered and dressed, Benton arrived at her front door. Although he’d shown up uninvited, Sydney let him inside. He grinned as his eyes strayed to the white bra draped casually over the back of the sofa. She rolled her eyes and tucked it out of sight between the cushions, after which they sat and talked for a while.
Isaac Solomon was under observation in hospital, Benton told her, having been diagnosed with concussion. His nose had also been reset for the third time in his life, and a minor fracture of his jaw was causing some discomfort but would heal in time. His prognosis was good, and Sydney was relieved that her plan to entrap Hank Stevensen had not cost the deputy more dearly. Benton joked about Isaac’s pride being more dented than his face, though the former would not result in any mass bruising or swelling.
He was happy with the progress being made on the case, and the internal investigation into Hank’s death was looking as if it would clear Sydney without action being taken against her. She relayed her own thoughts on the matter, told him about the many messages she had received and how she had ignored them all other than Muller’s.
‘He never uttered a word of spite or malice towards me,’ Benton told her in a voice full of wonder. ‘Just wore the look of a man surprised it had taken the rest of us so long to realise what he’d known all along. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he looked happy today, but he sure did look at peace. And a decade or so younger as a result.’
Sydney smiled and breathed out a gentle sigh. ‘I’m so glad. I was thinking about the school shooting before you showed up. Today, for the first time, I thought about it as fifteen murders. Fifteen coffins, as Dexter so often reminded me. It seems to me that, in itself, is some kind of progress?’
‘I’m with you all the way on that one. And we’re making inroads elsewhere, too. Confessions and allegations against others alone will make life tough for prosecutions down the line, but I’m sure we’ll gather hard evidence as we proceed. Let’s face facts, it’ll be a year or more before this sees the inside of a courtroom. By then we’ll have everything we need.’
‘You’re right. We maybe didn’t get it all here, Ben. But I reckon we got enough. For now.’
‘You did. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you, Syd. You were asked by Dexter Muller to clear his son’s name, and you did that, throwing in the real shooter for good measure. You also wanted to find out what really happened to your father, and you cracked that one as well. I’d say you did pretty good, all things considered.’
Nodding, Sydney smiled and said, ‘Yeah, that’s one way of looking at it.’
‘By the way, I came to ask how you were doing.’ Benton’s voice lowered, his sharp eyes glued to hers.
‘You mean with everything collectively, or taking a life specifically?’
He shrugged. ‘Either. Both.’
Sydney ran a hand through her hair and rolled her neck muscles. Reflexively, she tugged at the hem of her T-shirt and crossed one leg over the other, uncertainty filling her head. ‘Not great, if I’m being honest. But I’ll come to terms with it. I’ll never forgive Hank for what he did, and if I still had the choice I’d rather see him in prison than in the dirt. He drew my fire, Ben. He had no intention of killing me, but he wanted me to think he might.’
Benton nodded. ‘Yeah. His gun was empty. We found a full mag in his jacket pocket.’
‘I guessed as much. And to tell the truth, I don’t really know how to react to it. I can’t be grateful to him, but I have to wonder how he found it in himself to murder my father but not me.’
‘My guess is, killing your father got beneath his skin. Haunted him, maybe. I think he came to the conclusion that he couldn’t face doing the same thing to you, especially not up close and personal.’
‘I wish he’d put a bullet in his own head like he said he would.’
Benton let out a long and heavy sigh. ‘Is all that happened going to cost you everything?’ he asked.
‘You mean my job?’ She took a beat before responding. ‘My guess is I’ll be suspended pending an investigation. I won’t come out of that too well, but with the result we got here they’ll find it hard to ask me for my badge and gun. I think the most likely outcome is a one-way ticket to South Dakota or some such place.’
‘You still thinking of quitting before they pull the trigger on that?’
‘I am. I spoke to Jordan, but I managed to steer clear of my job. He’s flying up on Saturday morning and by then there will be one or two things I’ll need to prepare him for. I have an awful lot of thinking to do, because this thing isn’t over. And I’m not sure I can leave until it is.’
Benton Lowe winked at Sydney and stood to leave. As he turned away, he paused, looked back down at her, head tilted slightly to one side. ‘You did well here,’ he said. ‘In fact, you did great. Your father would have been very proud of you.’
She nodded, feeling a presence watching over her that she was unable to explain. As she rose to her feet, Sydney said, ‘I think so, too. I think he is. But then, he always was, whether I deserved it or not.’
‘Well, you sure earned it this time, Syd. And I’ll tell you something else for nothing. This house never did feel quite the same without you in it. Come to think of it, neither did Moon Falls.’
‘Thank you for that,’ Sydney said. They hugged, and when they broke away, she smiled and affectionately rubbed his upper arm. ‘Who knows, Doc? Perhaps this town and this house will have to get used to me being in it all over again.’
Acknowledgements
There are a number of names I have to mention, because without their efforts this book may never have been published. Equally, the eagle-eyed whose beta, editing and proofreading skills helped make this a better book, also deserve a mention. My deep and warm gratitude, therefore, goes out to: Rony Campbell, Kath Middleton, Liz Mistry, Maggie James, Karen Cole, and Jane Moffett for their early and continued enthusiasm for the book. Also, Lynda Checkley, Donna Morfett, Livia Sbarbaro, Dee Groocock, Nicki Murphy, Dorothy Laney, and Maureen Dickinson for their keen minds and sharp eyes.
In addition, my thanks go out to the usual team of people responsible for getting the final product out there, promoted, and publicised. Of course, I cannot write an acknowledgement without thanking my ‘Forder and Friends’ support group and other ARC readers.
Book bloggers have been kind to me since my first publication, and I have to say that were it not for their support and generosity, I don’t believe I would have had the success I’ve enjoyed so far.
As for the book, well, its storyline presented a real challenge. At no point did I ever intend to exploit the terrible tragedies that have sadly become commonplace in the United States. Nor did I set out to tackle the politics of it all. Fifteen Coffins is not a book about school shootings – it’s about one specific fictional shooting and the story behind it.
Thank you for reading it.
If you enjoyed this and would like to know more about my work, you can find out more here:
https://www.tonyjforder.com
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tony-J-Forder/e/B01N4BPT65
https://www.fantasticfiction.com/f/tony-j-forder/
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