Hugh's Chase

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  She opened her mouth, but a loud male voice from down the hall made her slam her mouth shut and roll her eyes.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Joe Peterson is here with his wife and you know how he is,” she said in a lowered voice. “She should lock him up in the cellar because he’s completely out of control, although I half expect she drove him to act like a caveman.”

  “Same problem?” Peterson was known for his love of a bottle.

  Maggie nodded. “He’s down the east hallway.” She pointed.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, Hugh?” He looked back at her and she smiled. “All work and no play makes the Sheriff a dull boy. I know the perfect remedy. Give that some thought.” She winked.

  He nodded and continued down the corridor, following the belligerent sound of Peterson still going off about something.

  “This is bull shit! She needs pain meds and it’s your job to prescribe something. Who are you to say she isn’t in pain? Do your jobs, folks.” The man with a bright red face pointed his finger at the doctor who was looking at him with an agitated stare. She’d seen this a time or two, maybe even more, from Peterson. “What kind of doctor are you that you won’t give a patient something when they’re in need? Aren’t you under some ethical code?”

  “Mr. Peterson, as we’ve told you several times now, and in the past, we track the use of narcotics through a statewide database and records show your wife has filled two opiate prescriptions in the last month.”

  “Are you accusing my wife of something, doc?” Peterson slurred.

  “I’m suggesting she use an OTC for pain. The X-rays came back negative for broken bones.”

  “Fuck this. Your machines can’t pick up her pain.”

  “I won’t lose my license to give you narcotics.” The doctor stared right into his eyes.

  Sandra Peterson, Joe’s wife of over fifteen years, stood behind him, shoulders slumped even lower than they were the last time Hugh saw her. If looks could talk, she was pleading with the floor to open and swallow her. She kept her gaze on her dirty sandals, her hands clasped at her waist and knuckles white. Hugh felt a kick in his chest. He’d gone to school with her and she always wore a smile back then, always spread her kindness to others, and had been named the most likely to succeed in the yearbook. Now, she wore dark circles and a frown that told a story of sadness. He had his suspicions of abuse, but she never called to make a complaint, at least not to his knowledge—at least nothing was on record.

  “How dare you accuse me—” Peterson gritted his teeth.

  “We’re not accusing anyone of anything, Mr. Peterson. I’m only telling you what the law states and we can’t keep giving your wife prescriptions. If she has a problem—”

  “The only problem she has is dealing with people like you,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Then consider not coming back,” the doctor said and turned her back to him.

  “You’re all a bunch of half-rate medical workers that are on the strings of insurance companies.” Joe laughed.

  Again, this was a situation Hugh had to take care of with the professionalism of a lawman and not a citizen. So, he unclenched his hands and, because it wasn’t easy, he stuck his thumbs into his front pockets.

  Peterson grabbed his wife’s hand and took a step back. Sandy lifted her chin, her eyes pleading. “Joe, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

  “You and this place are full of shit! We won’t be back here.”

  Sandra shifted and it was then that Hugh noticed the bruising around her eye and another fading one along her jaw. His breath came out in a hiss. Calm down.

  The couple started for the exit. Peterson was dragging Sandra along behind him as he charged for the rotating door, a little wobbly on his feet.

  Hugh took off after the duo, catching them just outside of the door. Better that Hugh speak to them in private rather than make a bigger scene than they already had. “You two, wait up.”

  Sandra lifted her chin, her green eyes no longer twinkling, but dull and lifeless. One corner of her mouth dipped. “Hugh—I mean, Sheriff Jericho, I didn’t see you there.” There was a significant quiver to her voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Her husband’s expression and restless shifting reminded Hugh of an angry bull contained in the chute. He was ready to unleash with a vengeance. One thing Hugh hoped the other man understood, his bullying ways might scare many of the people in Colton, but Hugh wasn’t one of them.

  “Well, well, Hugh Jericho. Look at that shiny badge.” Peterson grinned, but it felt dirty and raw. “You gave up the saddle for that?”

  No doubt the man was goading Hugh, but he had the patience of a martyr, at least most days. “It doesn’t hurt when a man does something bigger than himself, Peterson. You still out of work?” Back in school, Peterson was a jock who spent much of his time running a football or lifting iron. Now, while Sandra worked two jobs to make ends meet, one at the laundromat and another at the local nursing home, her husband was seen holding down a stool at the bar and hanging out with a questionable crowd. Hugh never meddled in a couple’s personal business. They should live how they want and if Sandra didn’t reach out, there wasn’t much he could do to help her. However, he wanted to make it clear that if she needed him, he’d be there to listen, or take Peterson down to the station for a vacation.

  He scowled. “I hope it works out for you. As for me, we’re doing just fine. Aren’t we, sweetheart?” He tugged Sandra closer and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  She didn’t answer.

  Once upon a time, the red-faced man with the whiskered jaw and thinning hair had been charming and that’s why Sandra, the pretty beauty queen, must have fallen for him. Hugh wasn’t sure if it was the bottle, or something worse, that had changed Peterson into the man he was today. His eyes were beady and blood-shot. He still had the remains of broad shoulders, but was offset by the beer belly that hung over the waist of his grease-stained jeans. His hands trembled.

  “Seems like there was a problem here.” Hugh looked to Sandra who had her gaze lowered again

  “No problem at all, Sheriff. Damn people here are worthless.” Peterson snorted. “They don’t want to help with the sick. They’re in the pockets of the insurance companies and they all have money signs for irises.”

  “Were you seen today, Sandra?” She gave a shy nod. “You okay? Looks like you have some bruising.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Peterson took a short step blocking Hugh’s view of her. “Fell down the stairs again. That’s why we’re here.” He shifted in his ragged, dusty work boots. “I thought she’d broken a few bones, but she’s tough. Aren’t you, baby?” He gave her a smile, which she didn’t return.

  Hugh didn’t take his eyes off Sandra. “Looks like there’s old bruising around your neck. Get clotheslined?” he asked in a soft voice, but on the inside, he was seething.

  “Hell, she’s just clumsy, Sheriff.” Peterson scoffed.

  “She has a voice. Let her use it.” Hugh gave the other man a sharp eye.

  “I-I haven’t been myself lately. My allergies have been acting up, making my vision blurred and I had the flu. Finally getting back to normal. You know how things happen.” Her attempt to drive home her words with a smile fizzled.

  Hugh’s skin crawled. The hair on his arms lifted. A part of him wanted to shake Sandra’s shoulders and ask what the hell she was doing with a bastard like her husband. She could do so much better—deserved much better. But he didn’t. He took a step back, numbed his personal emotions and stayed unbiased. “What about the narcotics? Why is such a strong med needed for bruising?”

  Sandra didn’t even try to answer.

  “You a doctor now, Jericho?” One bushy brow came up over Peterson’s beady eyes.

  “This isn’t a medical question. This is a law question. Dealing a controlled substance is a crime and it’s my job to check out suspicious activity.”

  “Are we be
ing arrested?” Peterson slithered an arm around his wife’s shoulders and dragged her close, either protectively or possessively, and Hugh would bet his life on the latter.

  “No. I’m not arresting you.”

  “Well, then, Sheriff. If you don’t have reason to keep us any longer, I’d like to get my wife home so she can rest.”

  Sandra turned her cheek toward her husband as if in defeat. “Are we free to go?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you’re free to go.” Hugh hooked his thumbs in his belt.

  “Thank you, Hugh.” Sandra offered him a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “If you need anything, let me know.”

  Joe growled, grabbed her hand and together they took off across the parking lot and got into an old, beat-up truck.

  “Glad you got that under control.”

  At the sound of the voice, he turned on heels and found Maggie standing by the smoking vestibule, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, handsome. I’m an open book if you’d like me to be.” She gave a small shrug when he didn’t say anything. “Old habits die hard. I’ll quit again tomorrow which will make my seventh time in the last year. I’m not as self-disciplined as my therapist tells me I need to be.” She gave a weak smile and for the first time he saw vulnerability in her. After snuffing the cigarette out in the container, she stepped onto the sidewalk and tilted a hip. All signs of weakness gone. “You’ll probably find yourself taking on a bad habit too, Sheriff. Dealing with people like Joe Peterson daily can make a person crazy—even someone as strong as you. Why does Sandra stay? Do you ever ask yourself that question?”

  He glanced across the parking lot and caught the tail end of the Peterson truck as it turned the corner. “Many times. I guess everyone has their demons.”

  Maggie’s chuckle sounded cold. Bringing his gaze back on her, he saw her narrowed expression. “I guess you’re right. I better get back inside.”

  “See you soon, Maggie.”

  “Hey, what about seeing the doctor for your shoulder?”

  He shrugged. “The shoulder’s better.”

  Chapter 2

  “What’s wrong, Nancy?”

  “Sheriff Jericho, thank you for coming. I’m beside myself with worry.” The fifty-something woman pressed her palm against her heavy bosom. The wrinkles around her eyes were deep. “Won’t you come in and I’ll explain.” She opened the screen door and stepped back for him to enter.

  “Sure.” He slid off his hat and strolled into the neat and tidy house, glancing at the row of framed pictures hanging on the wall. “I can’t believe your daughter graduated this year. Where has time gone?”

  “Deandra is the reason I asked you to stop by.” Nancy closed the door. “My daughter…she’s changed, Sheriff. I blinked and she morphed. She first lost her job, then her apartment and she had to move back in here with me. I didn’t mind her being here, but I knew things weren’t right. Call it a mother’s intuition if you will.”

  “What do you mean?” He held his hat against his chest.

  She stared at the graduation picture of Deandra, tears misting the mother’s eyes. “I realize she’s an adult and I have no control over who she sees or where she goes. My girl used to be so happy. I can still see her with pigtails and missing front teeth playing in the backyard. It used to be chocolate candy she’d hide, but today it’s something far worse. I wasn’t snooping like she accused me of doing. I was only cleaning her room and happened across the needle.”

  “A syringe?”

  Nancy turned, a look of fear making the creases around her eyes more prominent. “I asked why she had it, but she didn’t answer. I’m not a fool. I watch those investigative programs on ID every night. Kids getting into drugs. Dangerous people lurking at every corner. I pushed Deandra to give me an explanation, but she only became angrier and lost her temper. She threw a vase at me, then packed her bags and told me she wasn’t coming back because I can’t respect her privacy.” She pulled out a crumpled tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “This new crowd she’s hanging out with…I don’t trust them.”

  “Have a seat, Nancy.” He led her to the couch, then took a seat on the chair. “So, you think Deandra has been using drugs?”

  “Ever since…”

  “What, Nancy? Anything you tell me stays between us if I can help it.”

  “Hugh, this probably isn’t something you know. I adopted Deandra when she was still in diapers. That was a few years before my husband died. I worked two jobs to make ends meet. There were times I wasn’t here to tuck her in at night. How do you explain to a child that a mom must work to put food on the table and clothes on her back? Kids don’t understand things like that.”

  “We all do what we must to survive.” He patted her hand.

  “There’s something else. Recently, Deandra’s biological mother tried to reach out to her. I never told my daughter that she was given to me. I guess I never saw the point and certainly didn’t think she’d be broken hearted. She was hurt, angry. Different. I tried telling her that I couldn’t love her any more if she came from my womb, but she could only focus on the fact that I had lied.”

  “Is this when you suspected that she started using?”

  “Six months ago, sure as the nose on the center of my face. I came home from church and she was pacing the floor like she was about to jump out of her skin. After that, it became more often.”

  “And you have no clue where she went? Could she be with her biological mother?”

  “No. I called her and she hasn’t seen her. I’m hoping you’ll find her. At least keep your eyes open and let me know if you see her. I’m worried sick. She doesn’t understand I’m not the same without her here. We’re all each other’s got in this world.”

  “I’ll do my best, Nancy. Colton is only so big.”

  “I know I can count on you. I was so happy when you were elected Sheriff, son. This town needs someone like you leading. You and your brothers have always been good boys.”

  “Thank you, Nancy. If you hear from Deandra make sure you give me a call. Okay?”

  “I will, Sheriff. How about I grab you some homemade cookies for the road?”

  “If you and others keep giving me food I’m going to have to order new uniforms.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  When Hugh climbed into his truck, he placed the small box of cookies on the passenger seat, then rubbed his forehead in frustration. Turning on the engine, before he sped away from the street, he picked up his phone. Deputy LaGatta answered. “Carol, I just left Nancy Newman’s. Her daughter, Deandra, is missing. Let’s keep our eye out for her. Pass the word on to Ben.”

  “You bet, Sheriff. Are you coming back to the office?”

  “I’m heading home for a few hours. Let me know if you need me.” He clicked off and dropped the phone into the console.

  Anger rolled through him. If it was the last thing he did, he’d find the bastard who was supplying Colton with drugs.

  ~~~~~

  “Thanks for the interview Mr. Reed. You caught me just in time. Johnny and I were wrapping up today and ready to head out.” Adira stood up from the luxurious leather chair across from the large mahogany desk where Marshall sat sliding his fingers along an unlit cigar. His eyes were on her, penetrating her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

  “Come now, Miss Miles. Call me Marshall. May I call you Adira? That’s such a pretty name.” He stood and rounded his desk. “I’ve never heard it before. Were you named after someone?”

  “It’s Hebrew and it means strong. My parents wanted me to have a unique, sturdy name.”

  “Ah, excellent choice.”

  She took a step toward the door. It wasn’t every day she met a man who made her skin crawl, but he was one of those people. Not since she’d left Preston two years ago had her instincts been more on
alert. Her ex had been charming, almost sickly sweet at times, but he had a mean streak and she’d been on the receiving end a few times. He’d never raised a hand to her, but his cold, brutal words were a verbal beating that eventually caused her to pack her bags and leave their condominium in Chicago. Soon after, she’d hired Johnny and together they traveled making films, mostly investigative material.

  Since Preston, she had spread her wings, met many new people. He’d called a few times, using the excuse that he was “catching up”, but Adira had kept those conversations vague and to the point. When he asked where she was, she always brushed off the question. She couldn’t believe that at one time she’d thought about marrying the successful banker.

  “I better get going. Johnny is waiting outside for me.” Another step toward her exit.

  “I have an idea. Why don’t you stay and have lunch? I promise I’m an open book. You can ask me anything.” His smile reminded her of a Cheshire cat.

  “That’s very gracious of you, Mr.—I mean, Marshall, but you gave us a very thorough interview. I’m sorry that you’ve had your problems with the Jericho clan. Sometimes small towns can be that way when there’s a limited amount of land and jobs. Again, thank you for your time, but I really should be—”

  He stepped between her and the door, still wearing the grin that made her stomach roll. “What can I do to convince you?”

  Her patience thinned. She didn’t like it one bit when a man couldn’t take no for an answer. “As I told you, we’re leaving Colton today and I need to go back to the bed and breakfast to finish packing up.”

  Some of Marshall’s grin faded. He took a short step closer. He was a tall, broad man who could easily intimidate someone, and she at five two, he was a giant compared to her, but she held her ground. She was no longer the meek, naïve girl that suffered Preston’s brutality. “I think you’ve misunderstood my intentions, Mr. Reed.”

  “Let’s not beat around the bush, girly. I’ve been thinking about you.” He slowly lowered his gaze over her, lingering on her breasts before bringing his grey eyes to meet hers again. He scrubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “I’m sure a pretty woman like you wouldn’t mind sticking around long enough for us to get to know each other better.”