by ANDREA SMITH
“Agreed,” Dalton murmured.
“And even though I haven’t had the training you’ve had, I have lived in these parts long enough to know that none of this went down because of pot. This shit was up close and personal. I think you’re in a position to bring it to light, Dalton.
“I’m racking my brain Courtney. Kicking my own ass wondering what the hell I missed? I’m not at liberty to divulge anything I know, which at this point, isn’t much, but you do understand that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t even supposed to let on that I knew your cover. I was told to leave it alone and let the Big Boys handle it now that they’ve swarmed onto the scene. But that doesn’t give them any advantage over you in my opinion. I mean think about the months you’ve spent down here, the interactions you’ve had with folks, things you’ve learned that might’ve seemed inconsequential at the time.”
“Don’t you think I have been, Courtney?” he snapped. “It’s fucking all I can think about.”
Courtney sighed, “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll help anyway I can. But here’s the thing you have over me, Dalton, You’ve got the objectivity that the locals, including me, don’t have. Put on your thinking cap and watch others instead of having them watch you. I have faith in you. Fuck the white shirts. They don’t know how things roll here in Briar County. You do.”
Dalton gave her a smile. “Thanks, Courtney. I guess I needed that. And until I hear different, I’ll get my shit together and stay down here, doing what I’ve been doing. If I’m lucky, I’ll piece this twisted puzzle together and maybe, just maybe bring some justice to Briar County. In the meantime, can I crash on your sofa?”
“You’ve got it,” she replied with a smile. “Let me get you a pillow and blanket,” she said going to a closet and pulling them out. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep my killer kitty in my room for protection.”
Dalton chuckled as he sat on the edge of her couch and removed his boots and shirt. He stretched out on her sofa, punching the pillow until he’d gotten it just right and pulled the blanket up over his belly.
Courtney was right, he knew that. He was wearing his damn guilt that really wasn’t his to own. If he wanted to do right by Harlan’s family, he knew the answers were right here in this county.
Not Mexico.
Dalton thought some night fishing might be in order.
Chapter 22
It was three days of night fishing before Dalton managed to catch a break and find Billy Ray Jensen on the bank of the river, his pole in the water, in the darkness of the night.
Dalton had begun to wonder if Billy Ray was in hiding for some reason. His truck had been in his driveway each evening when Dalton had passed his house on the way to the river, and he knew he could’ve simply stopped at Billy’s house for a chat, but that would’ve been out of character for Dalton. And Billy Ray would’ve picked up on that.
Dalton knew if he was to get any information out of Billy, it had to be by means of a casual run in, as in the past when they were fishing.
“Hey Billy,” Dalton called out as he got closer to the bank. He didn’t want to startle the older man who appeared to be deep in thought. “Fish biting?” Dalton asked, dropping his gear to the ground beside Billy’s chair, and setting up his own.
“Huh? Oh . . . no not too much but I’ve only been here for about twenty minutes or so.”
“What kind of bait you recommend?” Dalton asked, trying to re-establish their fishing rapport. It’d been a while since they’d last talked.
“Crawdads,” Billy replied, but didn’t elaborate any further than that, which was unusual.
Dalton baited his hook with the earthworms he’d dug up earlier, and dropped his line into the river. They both sat there in silence for about ten minutes when Dalton finally broke the silence.
“You okay, Billy?” he asked. “Do you want me to move on down the river a piece? It seems like you’d prefer to fish alone this evening. I guess I shouldn’t have just presumed you wanted company.”
Billy turned and looked over at him. He had a tortured look on his face, and Dalton knew immediately that something indeed was sitting heavy on Billy’s mind or perhaps on his conscience.
“Naw, it’s not that, Dalton,” he replied, “I just . . . I just can’t process what happened to the Hatfields, is all. I mean they were my damn neighbors. How did I not see or hear anything that night? It feels weird talking about it to you,” he continued, “I mean you being the one who found them and all. I can’t imagine what that did to you.”
“It’s something that will never be erased from my mind, Billy,” Dalton said solemnly. “But there’s something that keeps sticking in my mind.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Billy Ray asked after a quiet pause.
Dalton felt a tug on his line and started reeling it in. “It’s just that I was surprised I didn’t see you at the wake for the Hatfields, Billy. Seems like everyone else in the county, and then some, were there. But didn’t see you.”
Dalton reeled the carp in, removed the hook from its mouth, and tossed the fish back into the river.
“You know,” Billy Ray commented, “Lots of folks around here consider carp good eatin’, Dalton. If you cut out the mud line just right, it fries up nicely.”
Dalton re-baited his line and tossed it back into the water. “Maybe so, Billy. Guess I’m a bit picky though, never did develop a taste for bottom feeders. Seems I heard you say that a while back when you hooked one. Have you had a change of heart?”
Billy Ray dropped his pole and turned to face Dalton. “Something you want to say to me Dalton? What is it? Do I owe you an explanation for not attending the funerals of my neighbors? What? You think I’m involved in it some way?”
Billy Ray’s voice had risen in anger, and Dalton knew he’d hit a nerve with that one, which was exactly what he’d intended to do. “Didn’t say that now did I?” Dalton replied, chewing on a toothpick he’d just pulled from his pocket.
Billy Ray reeled his line in, and started putting things back into his tackle box. “You know Dalton, seems to me that you were way more involved in whatever it was the Hatfields were doing than anyone else around these parts. Seems funny you getting all suspicious about me not being at their funeral. What does that prove? It’s been my experience that often times the guilty party is the first one to point fingers at others. And you did, after all, come up on that crime scene first now didn’t you?”
Dalton didn’t allow himself to react to Billy Ray’s thinly veiled accusation. He knew it was simply a tactic to put him on the defensive, and an obvious over-reaction on Billy Ray’s part for a question that was mostly benign.
“Whoa, hold up Billy,” Dalton said calmly, “I sure didn’t mean to imply anything, it just surprised me is all. No need to get your dander up. I’m sure you had your reasons, buddy. No judgment on my part, I’m sorry.”
Billy Ray visibly relaxed, and sat back down in his chair, burying his head in his hands, his fingers rubbing his forehead. He shook his head, and looked back up. “I didn’t mean to get all worked up about your question, Dalton. I guess maybe I do feel guilty. The truth is, I just couldn’t bring myself to go. It’s complicated as hell. It doesn’t help that the whole county has been nothing but a circus ever since then. I can hardly stand to even leave my place. If it’s not FBI field agent or BCI officials, or reporters getting in your way, it’s those damn nosy people coming to the county looking for bloodstains on the pavement. You know they’re planning on hauling all those mobile homes off the Hatfield property into some old deserted factory over in Scioto County, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dalton replied softly, “and no, I wasn’t aware that was going to happen. How’d you find out?”
Billy shrugged his shoulders and leaned over and searched for a different lure in his tackle box. “Heard Sheriff Richards tal
king about it to Ella Johnson earlier when I went in to get some fresh bait. They want to preserve the crime scene. Makes sense I guess. Leaving those mobile homes sitting out there on Hatfield land is just an invitation for thieving and break-ins. This is a high profile case. It’s national news.”
“You bet your ass it is,” Dalton replied, “but you haven’t said why you feel guilty about it, Billy. I don’t know you well, but I do know you’re ex-law enforcement and seem to be a law abiding and solid citizen.”
Billy sighed deeply. “The thing is, I only did what I thought was right - right for the community, you know?”
Now Dalton had Billy Ray where he wanted him. He’d been carrying around guilt because he’d gone to someone with his concerns and speculation. Dalton needed to know who exactly that someone was.
“Yeah, Billy, I get it. You’re a stand-up guy, who’s probably seen a lot of quid pro quo shit during your career. It’s hard to know who to trust sometimes, isn’t it?”
Billy nodded.
“Remember when you told me you’d raised your concerns about the Hatfields to somebody who you felt you could trust? Who was that, Billy?”
Dalton watched as Billy Ray’s face contorted into something that was akin to pain mixed with shame. He waited patiently for a response, hoping like hell Billy felt like getting it off his chest.
“Wasn’t anyone in law enforcement around here, Dalton. I don’t trust any of them in this county. I believe I did the right thing.”
“Was it authorities over in Scioto County?” Dalton pressed, hoping like hell for a name. He knew Billy was at his most vulnerable point; he didn’t want to appear overly aggressive in getting that name.
“I’m not saying anything more about it Dalton,” he said, now pulling in his line and preparing to gather his gear up to leave. “It’s not that I’ve got you pegged as being a bad person, it’s just that right now, anything I say carries risk. This county doesn’t need anyone else being put at risk. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Chapter 23
It had been over a month since the murders of eight members of the Hatfield family, and law enforcement was still crawling through the back roads, cornfields and woods looking for God knows what.
True to the word around town, all of the mobile homes and double-wides had been moved off the property and put into an empty warehouse in the next county.
Jack had only met with Dalton once at their usual meeting place in Augusta. It had been a week prior. Jack let Dalton know that the hydroponic poppy plants had not been located in any of the searches in the area.
“You’re officially no longer a person of interest in that,” Jack assured him.
“You know Jack, it’s pretty fucked up that I ever was if you want to know the truth. So what am I supposed to do now? There’s no more planes coming in, no sign of the hydroponic poppies, and eight dead people. What’s my next assignment? I’m spinning my wheels here. I’m supposed to keep my cover, but for what? I receive no intel briefings from you, no instructions of any kind. I appreciate the paychecks, but I’m thinking my services to the D.E.A. might be of better use on another assignment, don’t you?”
Jack cleared his throat seeming to be at a loss for words. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Edwards. You see, in the mind of the A.G. the murders were a direct result of that marijuana grow operation they had going. The Hatfields were stepping on the cartel’s business--maybe not in Briar County, but definitely in Appalachia where they’ve had a stronghold for decades and a supply chain carefully structured to remain beneath the radar. The Hatfields were interrupting that supply chain, and drawing too much attention to the area.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me, Jack. You know damn well that’s a bunch of horseshit and we’ve got proof of that!” Dalton hissed in anger.
Jack’s face contorted in anger, and his voice grew hoarse with his next words. “Pipe down and listen to me, dammit! We have nothing,” he spat. “Pictures of poppies, video of a Cessna landing and taking off? Unidentifiable people? That Cessna could’ve been carrying fucking fertilizer for all the proof we have. You blew it Dalton. I’m afraid this is the end of your tenure with the D.E.A. effective immediately.”
“Are you serious?” Dalton snapped. “So all of this--it’s what? Just going to be shoved under the rug so it looks as if a crime’s been solved with no arrests? What the fuck, Jack?”
Jack shook his head. “It wasn’t my decision. I’m just the messenger. Your credentials have been revoked. You’ll get eight weeks of severance pay, and your laptop has been wiped and disabled. I’ll need to take your phone and I.D. with me when we leave. I’m sorry. It was Munson’s decision. I guess he didn’t have the balls to communicate this to you directly.”
Dalton stood up, tossed his government issued cell on the table, and then grabbed his wallet and pulled his D.E.A. identification from underneath the leather flap where he’d kept it hidden. “There you go, Jack. Tell Munson to stick them both up his ass.”
And with that, Dalton walked out of Jerry’s Restaurant and headed back to Briarton, trying to figure out just what his next move would be in finding a career other than shoveling shit and feeding the exotic animals at the West Fork Ranch.
Chapter 24
“How about another beer, Courtney?” Dalton asked, sliding his empty mug over to the edge of the bar.
It was late afternoon; he’d just gotten off work at the West Fork Ranch and had pulled into The Peak for a cold beer or two. The place was practically deserted, but Dalton knew in a few hours, it would be buzzing with the regulars who came in on Friday nights to blow some of their paychecks.
“Another draft?” she asked, pulling a fresh frosted mug from the cooler.
“Let me try that dark IPA you got in,” Dalton replied, getting up to put a buck into the jukebox to play a couple of tunes.
“Sure you can afford it?” she asked with a smirk.
“Ha ha,” Dalton replied, choosing two Alan Jackson tunes and a Garth Brooks number. “No worries there, if I get low on money I’ll just move onto your couch.”
She laughed and poured the dark brew into the frosted mug. “Fat chance. My cat would run you out. But seriously Dalton, what are you going to do?”
He’d filled Courtney in on his termination last week after he’d returned from Augusta. She’d agreed it sucked, but said she wasn’t surprised.
“Oh really?” Dalton had challenged, “So you think I’m a loser and botched this whole bit?”
“Nope, didn’t say that,” she’d replied, “You were set up to fail Dalton, and anybody with half a brain would’ve done their due diligence before sending a not-quite-outta-the-rookie agent down here. What I’m saying is the asshats in Columbus and every other damn capitol city in this country as far as that goes are conveniently clueless while a good deal of them line their pockets from lobbyists and cartels to look the other way. And that goes for the D.C. bitches as well.”
“Wow,” Dalton had responded with a big wide grin, “Tell me how you really feel, Courtney.”
“Earth to Dalton,” Courtney said, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “What’s your plan, darlin’?”
“I’m in no hurry to leave. I know that may sound strange, but I’ve got my severance and I’m sticking around for a bit to nose around. I don’t want to leave feeling like a loser. I owe it to myself. And I owe it to the Hatfields.”
“You closing the bar tonight?” he asked as she wiped down the outside of the cooler.
“Naw, thank fuck, I’m off at eight, why?”
“Care if I stop by? Now that I’ve officially had that prison tattoo removed, I’d like to share notes with you. Might help getting some insight from you.”
She was thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. “As long as you know that it goes both ways.”
“Absolutely,” Dalton replied
, taking a swig of his beer. “Between the two of us, maybe we can bring some light to the darkness in Briar County.”
Chapter 25
Dalton was busy mixing feed for the horses in the main barn, his thoughts going back to the previous night when he’d both shared information and gleaned information with Courtney, when Duel came up behind him.
“How’s it going Dalton?” he asked, startling him. “Whoa,” he laughed, “you must be somewhere else boy. Didn’t mean to startle you like that.”
Dalton turned and ran a gloved hand through his hair. “Naw, it’s all good Duel. Was just singing a song in my head that’s all.”
“Hmm,” his boss responded, “Usually enjoy listening to those songs you belt out. Got a real good voice on you. Don’t keep it inside, we enjoy the entertainment around here. Especially now with all that’s happened,” he finished, shaking his head.
“Yeah, you got that right. Anything new with the authorities? I heard the Sheriff is under review or some shit like that.”
“Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?” Duel asked quizzically.
Dalton didn’t think it’d been a secret. Courtney had told him that the night before, and she’d heard it at the bar from one of the county deputies. “Heard it at the Peak the other evening,” Dalton replied nonchalantly, “Figured you probably already knew about it.”
“Nope, but it doesn’t surprise me either,” Duel replied, “That whole department needs to be dismantled and re-built. You know they’ve had more than one deputy who was on the take if you know what I mean.”
Dalton did in fact know what Duel meant. It had been one of the topics of discussion he’d had the night before with Courtney. In fact, Dalton had learned that the cop Vince Hatfield purportedly had in his pocket had left the force just days before the murders. Dalton wondered if Vince had even been aware of it. It might have explained that deputy reporting to the local news media that the department was preparing to serve search warrants at the Hatfield property on the same morning Dalton had found them slaughtered.