by Gayle Wilson
That was all she managed before she slammed into something hard and very solid. Not something, she realized in nearly mindless terror, but someone. Someone whose hands closed over her upper arms, holding her powerless, despite her struggles to break free.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“WHAT THE HELL are you doing?”
Jeb’s voice. And Jeb’s hands. As soon as she had made the identification, her panic eased enough to allow her to gasp out the words that were unthinkable.
“I think it’s the sheriff. Under the truck.” She half turned, looking back over her shoulder at the garage. “The jack must have slipped. There’s blood coming out from under the front. A lot of it. I though it was oil at first, but…” She ran out of breath and story at the same time.
“Slow down. You think Adams is under a truck?”
She nodded. “I think it fell on him.”
Jeb had been holding her slightly away from him so that he could look down at her face. Now his eyes lifted to focus on the open garage doors behind her.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
Despite the fact that had obviously been a command, she wasn’t about to be left alone out here. Better the horror she knew…
She turned as he brushed past her, following him to the garage. He pulled open the heavy door and entered, leaving it ajar. She slipped through behind him.
Jeb had already reached the other side of the truck. He stooped as she entered, disappearing from sight for maybe thirty seconds. When he stood again, his face was grim.
“You have your cell?”
“In the car.”
“Come on.”
He walked around the front of the pickup, avoiding the pool of blood, to push open the other door. Instead of heading down the drive, however, he limped toward the back of the frame house. She followed, forcing herself not to take a final look into the darkness of the garage.
As Jeb obviously expected it to be, the screen door at the back of the house wasn’t locked. He entered, flipping all the switches inside the doorway, flooding both the yard and the utility room they’d entered with light.
“What are you going to do?”
Instead of answering, he continued through the kitchen and then toward the front of the small house. He turned left in the dining room. She trailed him through each room, finding him finally in what appeared to be a second bedroom that had at some time been converted into a home office. As she entered, Jeb picked the phone up off a battered desk, which had been set in front of the room’s double windows.
He punched in three numbers and then stood waiting for the dispatcher to answer. While he did, her eyes moved around the room, taking in the cheaply framed certificates, plaques and photographs. They all seemed to have been hung just as they had been received through the years, without any consideration of aesthetics.
“There’s been an accident,” Jeb said, bringing her eyes back to him. “I don’t have the address, but the victim is Sheriff Adams. It looks as if he was working under a truck he’s restoring. Somehow the jack slipped and pinned him.”
He listened, and then, his eyes meeting hers, he said, “I don’t think there’s any question that he’s dead.”
She had known that intellectually. To hear it stated so bluntly, despite the near dispassion of Jeb’s tone, made it more real than it had been before. She crossed her arms over her chest, but the cold she felt was an inward chill.
“Jeb Bedford. Ms. Chandler and I had come to talk to the sheriff and found the body.” He listened again, nodding an agreement the dispatcher couldn’t see. “We’ll be here.”
He hung up, his eyes holding hers. “They’re going to send the paramedics. And someone from the department, of course.”
“You don’t think there’s any chance…”
He shook his head, knowing immediately what she was asking. His certainty only confirmed her first impression. No one could lose that much blood and still be alive.
“I need to call Lorena. We’re probably going to be here a while.”
She nodded and only then remembered why she had come. “The lab faxed him the results from the DNA comparison they made.”
Jeb frowned. “The state lab? Why would they do that?”
“Because he’s the one who initiated the inquiry. It didn’t make any sense to me either, but I talked to the coroner in Randolph County and the lab. They both said that’s how they had to do it.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“They said he’d come home for the day. I thought maybe he’d brought the fax with him. That he was planning to call me from here or something. Or that he’d go back to the office with me.”
“You want to look for it?”
“Here?” She considered the cluttered desk.
“Why not?”
Jeb was right. No one would ever know. After all, the report should, by rights, have come to her. It was her DNA they had tested.
She walked over to the desk. As she did, Jeb moved to his left, giving her room to slip behind it. For a moment she was reluctant to touch the papers scattered over its surface. It seemed an invasion of privacy.
Except Adams was dead, and if she didn’t look for the report now, there was no way to know how long it might be before someone in the department would take time to go through his things and locate it for her. Judging by the attitude of the deputy this afternoon, there was no way to know whether the department would release it to her at all under the circumstances.
She started with the pile of papers neatly stacked on the right side of the desk. She picked them up, her eyes scanning each page quickly and then putting it back down as soon as she’d determined it wasn’t what she was looking for.
Most of them seemed to be articles that had been printed off the Internet or photocopied from some other source. New techniques concerning police work. How-to articles. There were even a couple of human-interest stories that involved police departments. Nothing that even remotely resembled a lab report.
When she finished with the first group, she began gathering up those that were spread over the blotter. In the distance she heard the wail of a siren. She turned her head, looking at Jeb for confirmation that she should continue. He nodded.
As she returned to her task, her gaze moved across a small, framed photograph sitting on the left side of the desk. It was the picture of a child, a little girl, her broad smile revealing a missing front tooth.
Her sweeping glance passed on and then, recognition kicking in, snapped back to the photo. Although the hairstyle and clothing were different, she knew that small, heart-shaped face.
And now, perhaps because of the deep blue of the dress she wore, the eyes that stared as directly into the camera as they had into hers that day on the playground appeared to be blue, too, rather than gray. Fingers trembling, Susan reached out and picked up the frame, questions ricocheting through her brain.
“What is it?”
“I know her,” she said softly.
Jeb leaned forward so he could see what she was staring at. “From here, you mean?”
She nodded. “I met her at the school. Her name’s Alexandra. And she’s in the third grade.”
“Third grade. That means—”
“That she’s eight years old. She told me that.”
The exact same age as Emma.
“What’s her picture doing on Adams’s desk?” Jeb asked.
“I don’t know, but…Even when he was warning me away from the playground, he never mentioned her. He never indicated he knew any of those children. Don’t you think that’s strange?” she asked, looking up at him. “Especially since he must have realized Emma would have been in the same grade as—”
“Mr. Bedford?”
The masculine voice came from the back of the house. Susan quickly set the picture back down on the desk, attempting to straighten the papers she’d been looking through.
“In here,” Jeb called, squeezing around behind her. As he did, his hand closed o
ver her shoulder, the gesture obviously intended to offer strength or comfort.
Before Jeb could reach the doorway, a deputy poked his head into the opening. He was deeply tanned and sported a dark, neatly trimmed mustache that was obviously intended to make him look older. It wasn’t effective, unless he really was sixteen.
“You the one who made the call about the sheriff?”
Since he’d called Jeb by name, it was obvious he knew the answer. Despite the ridiculousness of the question, Jeb nodded.
“You found the body?” the kid asked.
“Ms. Chandler did.”
The deputy’s eyes focused on her face. “You’re Ms. Chandler? I talked to you a little while ago. Something about a fax you were trying to locate.”
She nodded, but didn’t offer any other information.
“Ms. Chandler came out here to see the sheriff about her fax and discovered the body.”
“That right, ma’am?”
“That’s right.”
“And the sheriff was…like that when you arrived.”
She wasn’t sure about the legal implications of that question. Whatever he meant, she didn’t particularly like the sound of his phrasing.
“He was pinned under the truck. There was blood pooled in front of it, but at the time I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was oil. Then I heard something creak and walked around to the other side. That’s when I saw his body.”
“What kind of creak?”
“It sounded like metal moving against metal.”
The deputy’s brows rose as if that information were somehow surprising or important.
“The jack may have slipped farther, or the truck may have been settling,” Jeb supplied.
“That’s possible, I guess. You didn’t see the truck fall?”
“It was already at that angle when I opened the door.”
“Angle?”
“You haven’t seen it?” Jeb asked.
“I saw the lights and figured you folks must be inside. The paramedics were already out there when I arrived.”
“The front bumper of the pickup is almost touching the ground. There are no tires, so when it fell…” Jeb shrugged.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Okay,” the deputy said. “Well, you folks are still gonna need to come down to the department and fill out a report.”
Susan looked at Jeb, hoping he’d object. He was nodding instead.
“I need to make a call first, if that’s all right. My great-aunt is waiting supper for us at home. She’ll be worried if we don’t show up pretty soon.”
“I’ll wait on you all outside. Ma’am.”
The deputy nodded to her, touching the brim of his hat as he did. Then he took a step back toward the doorway.
“Did he have any children?”
Her question stopped him in midstride. “Ma’am?”
“Sheriff Adams. I was just wondering if he had a family.”
“Sheriff wasn’t married. Folks in the department always said he was married to the job. He’s gonna be missed in this town.”
It was obvious he had already slipped into deification mode. Whatever shortcomings Adams had would be lost, at least temporarily, in the tragedy of his death.
“Then…” Susan picked up the photograph from the desk and held it out to him. “I was wondering who this is.”
The deputy crossed the room, taking the frame from her. “That’s Alex,” he said, smiling. “She’s his niece. Sheriff’s sister and her husband have been divorced for years. Since before she moved back here, actually. Sheriff’s always been like a daddy to that little girl. She’s gonna miss him, too.”
“You said they moved back here? So…she had moved away for a time?”
“Diane? As I remember it, her husband wasn’t from around these parts. Maybe they lived where his family come from. I don’t know all the details, but Diane moved back when Alex was just a baby. Must be five or six years ago now. I think the sheriff was the only family she had, so naturally she come on home when her marriage fell apart. Most folks do. Nothing like family in hard times,” he said, handing her the photograph, his face arranged in an appropriate expression of grief.
“That reminds me,” he added. “Somebody’s gonna have to call Diane and give her the news. I don’t envy ’em that job. She’s gonna take it hard, especially the way it happened.”
“I assume whoever makes that call would be Sheriff Adams’s second in command,” Jeb said.
The deputy nodded. “Buck Jemison. I’ll need to get in touch with him.”
“When you do, mention that Ms. Chandler has a very important fax that was sent to the sheriff’s department. It’s information she needs immediate access to. I’m assuming that since the sheriff is dead, Jemison is the one who can authorize its release.”
For a moment the deputy looked as if he wanted to argue the point. Something about Jeb’s tone or that unthinking air of command made him think better of it.
“I’ll tell him. You go on and make your phone call, and I’ll see you outside.”
He nodded dismissal again with the same brief gesture toward the brim of his hat. This time his exit was successful.
Susan waited until she heard the screen door at the back of the house slam shut behind him. She turned to Jeb, her heart pounding with the information they’d just been given.
“The sheriff’s sister brought a baby to Linton six years ago. A little girl Adams failed to mention to me, despite his talk about my watching the children at the elementary school. Do you realize what that means?”
“Don’t,” Jeb advised.
“Don’t what? You have to see—”
“I admit it looks strange he didn’t mention his niece, but maybe he didn’t see a connection. It could have happened just as the deputy said. A nasty divorce. She moves back home, bringing her daughter with her.”
“Adams did everything in his power to discourage me from looking for Emma. Since the day I got into town. You know that.”
“I know that if you get your hopes up, and this proves to be nothing—”
“Then what?” she interrupted. “I’m back right where I was before—having no idea what happened to Emma. If I’m right…” Her heart ached with the thought of what that could mean. “She might be my little girl,” she said. “And I’ve seen her. I’ve even talked to her. She’s safe, and she’s right here—” Her voice broke with the enormity of that.
“Susan.”
“I know. But…it is possible. At least admit that much. It is possible. Don’t pretend I’m crazy. God, I had enough of that from him.”
“You’re not crazy. And it is possible. But until we know more, that’s all it is. I just want you to be careful what you’re thinking.”
Jeb was right. She had come too far and searched too long to get her hopes up before she knew the whole story. What he had said was just common sense.
However, the place in her heart that had once guarded the precious memories of a baby who’d reached her arms up to be held had already begun to thaw from the long freeze she had imposed on it. Alexandra was the right age. She was in the right place. And she had connections to someone who had thrown obstacles and objections into Susan’s path every step of the way.
Despite Jeb’s warning, the warmth of hope began to spread outward from that cold, long-dead center.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“LORENA WILL KNOW,” Susan said.
Jeb took his eyes off the road to glance over at her. Only her profile, backlit by moonlight, was visible in the dark interior of the car. “Know what?”
She’d been quiet since the deputy, whose name they’d learned was Byron Ahern, had told them about the sheriff’s niece. In spite of his warning to slow down, Jeb knew she was already thinking of that little girl as her Emma.
“Diane’s name. She may even know her address.”
“Diane Paul. I asked one of the officers.”
There was no way Susan
was going to let this go. He was surprised she hadn’t asked him to take her to the home of Adams’s sister as soon as they left the sheriff’s department.
They’d told their stories again, in separate rooms this time. Although Jeb had dragged his feet about leaving, waiting for Buck Jemison to show up, he hadn’t. When he finally asked Ahern, he’d been told Jemison was unavailable because he was heading up the investigation of Adams’s death.
When Jeb had expressed surprise at the term, he’d been told they considered the inquiry into any accidental death an investigation. What they would do in this case might be more thorough, given the victim’s relationship to the department, but in circumstances like this an investigation was routine.
“Did you ask him where she lived?”
“I thought that might seem a little inappropriate,” he said, “given what just happened to her brother. I didn’t want to create any suspicion in anyone’s mind.”
“I don’t care if they’re suspicious. You know there’s something strange about the fact that Adams didn’t mention his niece. That has to mean something. We can’t just let it go.”
“I keep thinking about his warning that if you push whoever this is, they’ll take Emma and disappear,” Jeb said. “I’m wondering if he said that because it’s already the plan.”
“He said that to discourage me from looking for her.”
“That doesn’t preclude the possibility that his sister really is planning to run. If we show up at her house tonight, without any authority to take Emma…”
“How do we get that ‘authority’?”
“First of all, we have to have some evidence that the little girl Diane Paul brought to Linton isn’t her daughter. And I mean something more substantial than the fact that Adams never mentioned his niece to you.”
He wondered if Susan had been thinking about just taking the little girl. He couldn’t blame her, but without proof, he couldn’t let her do that. This would have to be done legally because otherwise, if she were wrong, she’d be opening herself up to a charge of kidnapping.
“Do you think Adams had something to do with Richard’s death? I don’t see how he could have taken Emma if he didn’t.”