‘You think she’s doing this?’ Anthony asked, his voice almost squeaking.
‘Seems likely,’ I said. ‘Although she’s not tall enough to leave that note.’ My gut was killing me. Mainly because I wasn’t screaming, cursing, or running out there and cuffing ‘Anna Alvarez.’
‘We gotta play this right, Milt,’ Emmett said. ‘We got no proof. We’ve got to get some before we show our hand—’
There was a knock on the door and Anna – or whoever the hell she was – stuck her head through the door. ‘Sheriff, I think I found something!’
She looked from one to the other of us as there was no quick response. ‘Something wrong?’ she asked.
‘No, nothing,’ I said, trying a smile that felt more like a grimace. ‘Whatja got?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I was doing what you’d asked me to do, going through the stuff Holly found and comparing it to Judge Norman’s cases, and I came across something.’
‘And what would that be?’ I asked, wondering what bullshit she was getting ready to spit out.
‘Ah, here, Anna, take my seat,’ Anthony said, standing up and going toward the doorway, I guess for a quick getaway if necessary. The coward.
Anna sat down. ‘There’s this one case that stood out. There was this guy that got blown up in a meth lab—’
‘Yeah. I remember that. But he died. No next of kin,’ I said.
‘Yes, sir, but the entire department was at that raid. And there was one other person there that night. The guy – his name was Earl Jessup – had his girlfriend there. Eden Brown. She got burned real bad so the judge only sentenced her to a couple of years, and those she spent in the burns ward at the Warrior Correctional Center in Taft. But I’m thinking maybe—’
Anthony said, ‘Dalton told me Jasper Thorne’s new partner has burns scars all over her face. He saw her when they took those ladies from the bridge club to the hospital.’
I looked at Emmett, then at Anthony. ‘How new is she?’ I asked.
‘Want me to check on the computer?’ Anna asked.
‘Yeah, quick,’ I said, almost forgetting I was fixing to cuff her.
She was back in less than five minutes. ‘The hospital’s employee records show she was employed three weeks ago.’
‘How’d you get in the hospital employee records?’ Emmett asked. ‘Aren’t those, you know, private?’
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘That’s not important. What’s important is finding out who she is. Anybody know her name?’
‘Sylvia Bradshaw,’ Anna said.
‘I take it you’re one of those hacker people, right, Anna, or whatever your name is? The jig’s up, but I need you so don’t move. Get into the women’s prison’s database and see if we can get a picture of that burn victim … Eden?’
‘Brown. Yes, sir. And I don’t know what you’re talking—’
‘Whatever,’ I said, dismissing her. ‘Just do your job while you still have it.’
Anthony was sitting at his desk, trying hard not to look at ‘Anna Alvarez.’ He couldn’t believe it. That she could cut his wife’s brake lines, shoot out Dalton’s tire … Then he remembered. That day at the shooting range. He and Anna and Dalton trying to requalify. Dalton did good, Anthony did OK and Anna did shitty. He and Dalton had agreed to fudge the results. Just a little. How could someone who was that bad a shot shoot a tire out? Not to mention shoot through a moving car’s window and almost kill the driver, like she had with Jasmine? Answer was she couldn’t. Unless she’d been pretending at the range. But why would she do that? A bad score could have lost her this job, which she seemed to need in order to perpetrate her evil plans. Besides, she’d been with him when Jasmine was shot off the road, and maybe when Dalton’s tire had been blown. They had no idea when Maryanne’s brake lines had been cut, or the judge’s, for that matter.
Anthony stood up to head to Milt’s office but Anna stopped him. ‘Would you give this to Milt? And tell Holly the rest of it’s there – all she has to do is look for it.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Anthony said, distracted by his own mission.
Once in Milt’s office, he handed him the paper Anna had given him. ‘What’s this?’ Milt asked. Anthony shrugged.
‘Eden Brown,’ Milt said. ‘She looked like that ambulance driver?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s gotta be her, not Anna,’ Anthony said. ‘I know you’re gonna be pissed off about this, Sheriff, but when me and Dalton were at the range a couple of weeks ago with Anna, she didn’t qualify. Me and Dalton sorta helped her score along a little bit.’
Milt stood up. ‘Why the hell’d you do that?’ he demanded.
‘Not the point, sir,’ Anthony said, and when Milt started to argue that statement, he interrupted. ‘The point is, Sheriff, if she’s such a bad shot she couldn’t qualify at the range without help, how the hell did she shoot out Dalton’s tire or Jasmine’s window? Both of those cars were moving at the time.’
Milt sat back down and looked at Emmett. Emmett looked at Anthony.
Milt stood up again and walked to the door of his office, the others following behind as he headed into the bullpen. Anna Alvarez was gone, along with all her belongings.
Sylvia Bradshaw drove the ambulance to a call out in the country. She was still itchy from the night before. That damned bartender. She’d just been sitting there at the bar of the pool hall, doing some tequila shots, minding her own business. Then she hears him, talking to some other douche bag, saying how maybe she – meaning Sylvia – should have stayed home. Why’d she want to come in a place like this? Think anybody would want to pick her up? Then he said he wouldn’t fuck her with a ten-foot dick. Who the hell was he to say that about her? Who did he think he was? Some no-good bartender! And she sat there, getting madder and madder, the heat building up, burning her face all over again. Goddamn man! That’s what they all were. But this one was the worst. This one … Who the hell did he think he was?
Sylvia always kept her rifle in the trunk of her car. She’d never been a Boy Scout but she believed in their motto: be prepared. Sylvia was always prepared for this particular eventuality. She sat in her car until the bar closed and she saw the waitress leave. And she waited some more. Then, seeing no one else around, she took her rifle and went inside the pool hall. He’d been standing there, leaning on the push broom, a beer bottle to his mouth. He’d seen her and turned.
‘We’re closed,’ was all he’d said.
‘That’s it?’ she’d asked. ‘You got nothing else to say to me?’
‘What?’ Joe had asked, frowning.
‘You had a lot to say a while ago. Talking about me.’
Light had seemed to dawn as he simultaneously heard her words and saw the rifle she held to her side.
‘Hey, lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. That other guy—’
‘Bullshit,’ she’d said. ‘You think you’re pretty awesome, don’t you?’
‘Look, you need to leave—’
‘Take down your pants.’
‘What the fuck? Honey, no way!’
She’d lifted the rifle and pointed it at him, shouting, ‘Take off your goddamn pants!’
Joe, who always went commando, had undone his belt and unfastened his jeans, letting them fall to his knees.
Sylvia had seen the ring in his penis and begun to laugh. ‘You’re real proud of that thing, aren’t you, boy?’
‘Look, lady—’
‘I don’t know whether to shoot you in the dick or in the face,’ Sylvia had said, quietly studying on the subject. ‘Which do you suggest?’ she’d asked him.
Joe had turned his body like he was going to run but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the woman with the gun.
‘OK, the face,’ she’d said and fired.
All that time in the burns unit had taught Sylvia Bradshaw a thing or two about first aid – enough to bluff her way into this job. This perfect job. It was all she’d thought about lying there, suffering through one op
eration after another – killing the bastards who’d ruined her life. Lots of time off to do what needed to be done but also keep her tuned into what was going on in the sheriff’s department. She was pretty pissed she hadn’t killed even one of them yet, but she still had time. Nobody knew or suspected.
Now, driving the ambulance out to the country, she kept looking at Jasper Thorne, the lying, cheating bastard. She was beginning to think it wasn’t enough to take out her vengeance on just the sheriff’s department. Hell, if the EMTs had been faster getting her to the hospital after the meth lab blew up, she might not have lost her baby. They’d all ruined her life. All of them. That stupid raid. If they hadn’t come in sirens blazing, guns drawn, Earl wouldn’t have goofed up so bad that he blew up the place. They made him nervous, with their sirens and all. And she’d crawled out of that hell hole on her belly, her face, her head, so much of her on fire. The pain was more than a person should have to bear. And this asshole, Jasper, with a wife and kids at home, inside the hospital making plans to screw some nurse. God, men! She thought. They’re such assholes. Earl was an asshole. Saying they could strike it rich with the meth. Hell, he hadn’t sold one batch before he blew himself up and ruined her for life. And killed their baby. Sylvia’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. If Earl wasn’t already dead, she’d make him so.
The radio squawked and Jasper picked it up. ‘Ambulance three,’ he said into the mic. The response came out garbled but even Sylvia had been around long enough to understand what the operator was saying. ‘Return to base. Ambulance one will take your call. Return to base immediately. Over.’
‘Will do,’ Jasper said into the mic, looked at Sylvia and shrugged. ‘Over and out,’ he said. To Sylvia, he said, ‘Wonder what that’s about?’
‘Don’t know,’ she said but she had an inkling of an idea. Maybe the jig was up. Maybe they knew.
Jasper reached for the siren switch and turned it to the off position. There was blessed silence. ‘Somebody’s ass is in a sling, I just hope it’s not mine,’ Jasper said.
‘You done anything bad lately?’ Sylvia asked him.
‘Me? Hell, I’m clean as the driven snow,’ Jasper said.
‘No, you’re not.’
He laughed. ‘What you talking about? I ain’t done nothing to get my ass in trouble.’
‘You were trying to screw that nurse.’
‘Huh? What nurse?’
‘Lolly, Lanie, whatever the hell her name is.’
‘Lotty? Girl, she’s my sister-in-law! We always tease. She’s not my type. Besides which, my woman’s got a short leash on this boy. I don’t stray. No sir-re-bob.’
‘Liar!’ Sylvia shouted.
Jasper looked at her, stunned. He said, ‘No, Sylvia, I ain’t lying. The girl’s my wife’s little sister. She’s got a boyfriend. A fireman in Tulsa. Hell, he’s so fit he’d make mincemeat outta me if I tried anything with Lotty. Your man messin’ around on you, girl? Is that where this is coming from?’
‘You’re all liars, every one of you!’ she screamed, her foot pressing down harder and harder on the accelerator. The ambulance was reaching its top speed and still she pressed harder.
‘Girl, you need to slow this bus down, you hear?’ Jasper said, holding on tight to his door and glad he had on his seat belt but wishing this old bus had air bags. ‘You gonna wreck this thing!’
‘And maybe you’ll die!’ she screamed. ‘Nobody else did! I tried and tried and all I got was two old ladies who weren’t anybody’s kin! Y’all killed my baby! Turnabout’s fair play, isn’t that what they say? Well, I’m turning about!’
With the ambulance at top speed, Sylvia Bradshaw, formerly Eden Brown, turned the steering wheel ninety degrees and slammed on the brakes. The ambulance began to roll.
FIFTEEN
I came to the art of policing late in life, after a stint in the Air Force and then more years than I care to remember as a used-car salesman for my ex-brother-in-law. I was in my mid-thirties when I decided I’d had enough of that and, with the encouragement of the long-time sheriff of Prophesy County, Elberry Blankenship, I went to the police academy and came back to town to become a fully-fledged deputy. Dalton Pettigrew and Jasmine (then) Bodine, both in their early twenties, were already on the job. I’m just saying all this because for the twenty-odd years I’ve been with the department, those two were always there. We’ve had others come and go but Dalton and Jasmine were fixtures. So it sorta came as not so much a surprise, not even a disappointment, but more a sweet sadness when Jasmine told me that after her medical leave was up she wouldn’t be coming back. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, a wife who cooked, room mother at Petal’s school, all those things she couldn’t do working full time and not knowing what her hours were going to be on a given day. I understood. The thought of being a stay-at-home dad was appealing to me.
So it was gonna be just me and Dalton, and Anthony, of course. But so many people were gone now. Sheriff Blankenship, who I replaced, old Mike Neeley, who moved off years ago to Dallas and Nita Skitteridge, Anthony’s cousin, who’d taken the road Jasmine was on last year. And, although Holly kept saying she was coming back after her maternity leave, who knew whether she really would. It’s hard to leave a newborn, even if it is with its grandma. And of course, we’d lost Anna.
Anna Alvarez had disappeared. We’d sent out ads to replace Nita Skitteridge as far away as Dallas and Houston – maybe she’d seen one. And where better to hide than in a small county like ours? Nobody could find her, though I must admit, after I got more info out of Laredo, I really didn’t try very hard. Seems the real Anna Alvarez did die in the line of duty down there on the border of Mexico. Happenstance being what it is, she happened to die the same week her twin sister, April Alvarez, was indicted for computer fraud, which is another way of saying she hacked into some places she wasn’t supposed to hack into. If Holly decided to stay home with her baby, I might put a little more juice into finding Anna – or April, or whatever. She’d have to change her name again but she was real good on the computer. Just saying.
Holly followed up on the trails Anna/April had left for her on the computer. Some interesting points were that Eden Brown was raised on a farm in west Texas, the oldest of three girls, and the one her daddy designated as the boy. She did all the grunt work, fixing farm equipment and such, and was her daddy’s partner on hunting and fishing trips, which sorta took care of the cut brake lines and the good shot part of the scenario. Holly was also able to find out enough on Eden Brown’s whereabouts for the crucial times to send her back to jail for a good long time. Brown pled guilty to keep the death penalty off the table, but she wouldn’t be seeing daylight – at least not in my lifetime.
I called Bob Huntley, Judge Norman’s bailiff, to let him know the outcome. ‘Eden Brown,’ he said. ‘I remember her. Real bad burns. Lost a baby. But Dave let her off easy – three years in a burns ward. A better burns ward than she’d have gotten on her own dime, that’s for damn sure!’
But Eden Brown had admitted that she came out of rehab intent on killing Judge Norman. He was the one who let the sheriff’s department off scot-free; the one who sent her to prison. But after she’d killed him, she knew it wasn’t enough.
The DNA swab had proved to be Eden Brown’s. When asked, she said she’d spilt some of the flour Miz Pettigrew had on the counter and used the broom to brush it up. Since she had very little feeling left in her hands and face due to the burns, she never even noticed she’d been pricked by a splinter.
‘Hey, Sheriff, I told your deputy to give me five minutes alone with whoever killed Dave, but seeing as how I’ve never hit a woman in my life, I don’t really want to start now.’
‘I hear you,’ I said. ‘She won’t be out for a long, long time.’
‘Guess that’s the best I can hope for.’
‘One other thing, Mr Huntley—’
‘Call me Bob.’
‘Milt. Anyway, you know John and Reba Connors?’
‘Yeah, I do,’ he said, his voice a real cautious monotone.
‘Could you look into it and see if they’re getting disability from the county? I mean, the man’s seriously brain damaged and Reba, well, Reba is pretty much a basket case.’
‘I’ll look into it, Milt. I guess I didn’t realize how serious it was.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty damned serious.’
‘I’ll get on that right away. Dave was real fond of Reba, as was I. She was a good woman.’
‘Sorry about your loss, Mr Huntley. Let me know if there’s anything the department can ever do for you,’ I said.
‘Does that include traffic tickets?’
Feeling it was just a joke, I laughed and hung up.
Jasper Thorne had two broken ribs and a broken wrist, all of which only kept him in the hospital overnight. He was home the next day with his wife taking good care of him and demanding of the hospital that his next partner be male. Why she thought a man would be less likely to want to kill Jasper was beyond me. Hell, just looking at him made me want to kill him half the time.
We found Nick Permeter and his pick-up truck close to my house, the pick-up half in the creek that flowed down Mountain Falls. He was drunk as a skunk and, try as he might, Anthony couldn’t find a weapon on him. Instead of putting his ass back in jail, I told Anthony just to take him home to his women. The least we could do.
The vacationers in Oklahoma City all came back, and I wouldn’t say that Miz Pettigrew was the happiest one to see her home. My wife said she thought about kissing our hardwood floors. And then she did something I’d been hoping she’d do for the last several months: she kicked my sister out of the kitchen. I knew Jean was gonna keep me on a diet but it was better than the one I’d been on with Jewel’s cooking – mainly not eating anything.
The only person who seemed reluctant to come home was my son. At first I thought it was because he was gonna have to go back to school. But when he asked me, ‘Daddy, when did you know you loved Mama?’ I changed my mind. I showed him a picture of Eden Brown, aka Sylvia Bradshaw, and asked him if this was who he’d seen at the window the night of the ice storm.
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