by Shannon Hill
“Knock it off.”
The words were cold, the tone vicious. And they came from Tom.
“Knock it off, Kim, we’re not buying the act,” he went on bitterly. “You can’t sell us twice. You know good and well your best hope is to throw John Emmitt to us to save your own ass, and frankly, I’m not too keen on letting you do it. I think maybe we ought just let you do his time for him.”
Skip Warner drew breath. Tom snapped a glare at him that froze him solid.
“You sat there, at your desk, sniffling and sobbing for poor Lil, and the whole time you knew who had her and why. You shook that man’s hand and said nice to meet you Mr. Clay, and you knew his name was John Emmitt. You let me and Punk and the whole damn police force of the whole damn Commonwealth of Virginia be made fools of.”
Kim trembled. “I didn’t think…”
“You thought enough to give Boris tuna treats. You thought enough to take them into Lil’s house.” Tom’s hand smacking the table sounded like a cell door slamming shut. “And you thought enough to get scared and run.” He smiled, but it was a nasty grimace, the kind Boris makes when he’s in a mood. “You think now. Where’s John Emmitt?”
She shook her head. She’d betray the plot, but not the man. Lord save me from idiots.
I caught Tom’s eye, shook my head slightly, and leaned down the table, getting a face full of Boris on the way. “Kim. Look at me.”
Kim refused. Like a kid not taking the spoon of medicine.
“Look at me.”
She did look. Fleeting, sideways. Enough to see my face and know I wasn’t going to put up with this another moment. Enough for me to see I was going to be breaking a lot of hearts in the next few minutes. Mine included. But I had the leverage. I had to use it.
“One thing’s been bugging me here, Kim,” I said softly. I pitched my voice low and lulling, the way I do for Boris when he’s not feeling well from a hairball. “You left the office before Chief Danes found Doug’s body. You ran when we were still just looking for Doug. Now that can mean one of two things. So you tell me which it is.” I pulled back enough to keep one eye on Boris’s tail. All the tension in the room had him nervy, but he wasn’t worked up enough for a good tail-lashing yet. I figured I could trust his lie detector. “First option is, you worried Doug Winston would tell us everything. Second option is, you already knew we’d find him dead.”
What with all the crying and stress, it was hard to know if she lied when she said, “I thought he’d tell on us.”
Except for Boris’s tail, twitch-twitching the truth.
I eased back into my seat, and blinked away a sting of tears. “Okay, Kim.” And I played the biggest wildest guess-card of my career. “It’s nice camping up by that cabin, isn’t it.”
Kim twitched. I cursed, but in my head, where only I had to hear it.
Tom’s voice held a lot of hurt. “Lil?”
I sighed, to myself. To the room, I explained, “Naomi kindly let us have a photograph from Kim’s album. Her and some college friends camping. Doug Winston was in that photo. So was Craig McElroy. And here’s the thing, Tom,” I said in my official bereavement-notification voice. “What’s the odds she didn’t know about that cabin? What’s the odds someone else could get Doug Winston up there?”
Harry put it together faster than anyone else. “John Emmitt is not from around here. You dated Doug Winston, who is cousin to Craig McElroy, whose great-grandfather moonshined at that cabin many years ago. They are, in fact, both of that family.”
Skip Warner half-rose. “That’s enough. That’s enough. My client’s told you all she can.”
She hadn’t, but she wouldn’t be telling us any more. Not until he’d worked out a plea agreement with Harry.
***^***
We sent the sketch of John Emmitt to New York, Key West, Pennsylvania, anywhere else we could think. Steven Clay dug up the company records on him, but they told us nothing new. Breeden sent the sketch to all the motels up and down the interstate that runs through the Valley of Virginia. We didn’t expect much.
Kim’s cell phone records showed she had been calling John Emmitt for quite a while. Hourly, for a few days before she’d fled. His personal cell phone records showed he’d paid a hefty three hundred bucks to cancel his contract early. His credit cards had not been used in weeks. No activity on his checking account, either. For all intents and purposes, John Emmitt had vanished three days before Kim had done her disappearing act.
With time on my hands, I went to see Bobbi. She was getting bigger by the minute, she said. She still wasn’t too happy to see me. I didn’t have the energy to play games, so I came right out and asked her, “What’s going on? You’ve been nervous around me for ages.”
She pinked. She poured Boris more half-and-half. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me what isn’t.”
She flinched a little. No sparkle to her. “It’s…Raj’s parents. They gave us this money. All this money. It’s for the baby, and we’re grateful, and it’s fine but…Lil, I can’t let you be godmother.”
The words cut me deeper than I’d expected. “Why not?”
Her face twisted up. “I’m sorry! It’s just…the money! It means we have to have Raj’s sister. And she’s nice, she is, but…”
I had had about all the ouch I could take. “Fine. Screw you, too.”
Her mouth rounded in horror. “Lil!”
“Hey, what’s another friend selling you out for cash?” I snapped. Yeah, I know. Royal bitch, that was me. “Kim was angling for two million, what’d you get?”
“Lil,” she repeated, mouth crumpling. “Lil, that’s not fair. It’s for the baby, not us. And it’s only a hundred grand.”
Only a hundred grand. I snorted.
“Lil, please. It’s a stupid formality, that’s all. Just a stupid formality!”
I could have told her my one chance at motherhood would be godmotherhood. That I’d been looking forward to being someone’s Aunt Marge, without the having to raise them part. But I wasn’t enough of a bitch to do more damage.
And she was right. Raj’s sister lived in Cleveland. I was right here. “You moving to Ohio?” I asked.
“God no,” she said instantly. “Have you been there? Way too flat. And way too close to his parents for Raj. Or me,” she added. She put out a hand, let it drop. “We okay?”
I wasn’t, but we were, as weird as that sounds. “Sure,” I said. “It’s good.”
“No, it’s not,” said Bobbi astutely, and hugged me as best she could with her belly in the way. “I’m sorry, Lil, I should’ve said something but what with… Well, there wasn’t a great time, y’know?”
I did know. I sat down and listened to her plan the baby’s room, because that is what friends do.
18.
Things got back to normal. Sort of. For a given definition of normal. As it applies in Crazy.
I hadn’t forgotten Punk kissed me. Kind of hard to forget the only kiss I’d gotten in more years than I am going to bother to count. We were still friends at work, didn’t say a word about it. Which put me in the awkward spot of wondering if he didn’t say anything out of regret, or if, like me, he just had no idea what to say.
There were a lot of reasons to pretend it didn’t happen. First off, and biggest of them all, I was his boss. Office romances are a no-no. When one of you can fire the other, it’s a guaranteed disaster.
Second, I’m a few years older. Not that much older, but I’m sensitive to that kind of thing.
Finally, I do not like feeling all fluttery and nervous. It’s annoying. And romance means flutter and nerves. Yuck.
On the other hand, I was already tied in knots. What was the worst that could happen?
I could talk to Bobbi and Aunt Marge. Which I did. At the same time. Proving I am darn near as stupid as they come. You’d have thought I’d shown them a diamond ring and a date on the calendar. Bobbi squealed and bounced and rattled off all the great double dates we could
go on with her and Raj and the baby. Aunt Marge smiled and gleamed and said nice things about Punk’s upstanding character. I sat there and wished I’d never opened my mouth. It was like high school, only worse. My skin crawled.
“Roger will be so pleased,” said Aunt Marge. “He thinks highly of Punk.”
Well, so did I, but I’m very good at not thinking highly of men in a certain way. Last time I started to think that way, the guy turned out to be married. Before that? He dumped me right before the wedding. My track record’s not the greatest.
One thing to be grateful for. We were past Valentine’s Day.
I worked up my nerve the day before Kim’s hearing. She’d made a deal, but Harry wasn’t going to tell me a thing. She’d be making a full allocution, Harry told me, and he felt I should hear it from her. That was Harry’s brand of mercy, I guess. To me, I mean, not to Kim. Nobody had much mercy left for her.
I cornered Punk as he came in that morning. He was taking over Kim’s job for a while. Picking up extra hours, he’d said.
So, like an idiot, I started with, “Y’know, there’s a full-time job here now Kim’s gone. If you don’t mind doing desk duty.”
Smooth, Lil. Smooth like a forest service road.
Punk looked somber. “I’ll think on it.”
“It’s not a demotion,” I said clumsily. “I mean, God knows we still need you, and you’ll be out on patrol plenty.”
Some people trip over their tongues. Mine tangles around my ankles.
“You okay?” he asked.
I counted to ten. Aunt Marge swears that helps.
“Um.”
Nope, doesn’t help.
“You know how I’m your boss and all, right?”
Not much of a riddle why I’m single.
Punk waited. Confused. Well, that made us even.
“Want to come over for supper?” I blurted. “I was thinking of trying this recipe Aunt Marge gave me for falafel.”
Punk’s face scrunched. “Lil, I don’t mean disrespect, but you’re not making a lot of sense.”
This was all Aunt Marge’s fault. If she hadn’t been such a determined spinster, I’d probably have some clue what to do in these situations.
I decided, in not so many words, to say to hell with it. I sat down in my chair with a thump. “I like hanging out with you.” I managed not to sound like a teenager. “No strings. I know I’m your boss and all that. It’s just…You know.”
I hoped he knew. I didn’t.
Punk grinned. It’s always a little surprising when he does. “Yeah. I mean. I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” He paused. “Boris’ll mind.”
“He’s susceptible to bribery. He prefers brand name tuna, packed in water, no albacore.”
Punk chuckled. I wasn’t sure, but he might have been a little pink. “What do you eat with falafel?”
I felt something in me unwind. “I was figuring on picking up some pita bread at the store.”
“I’ll bring the pita bread. What time?”
“Six,” I said. I had, in fact, made the falafel the night before, so I’d really be reheating it, but I didn’t mention that. “I’ll be out Turner Gap Road.”
I said a little prayer I was not making a huge mistake or mess out of my life, put on my Smokey-the-Bear hat, and left while I still had some dignity.
***^***
Kim’s allocution was well-attended. Tom came, Tanya Hartley holding his hand. Aunt Marge and Roger came, and sat with me. Punk had to stay in Crazy to man the sheriff’s department, but Harry had promised him a copy of the proceedings. Matt and Naomi Lincoln were there, white, strained, already visibly older and thinner than they’d been a month ago. Kurt Danes showed up. So did a few McElroys and Winstons. Will Preston from the Gazetteer. A reporter from Charlottesville.
Judge Harper called the court to order. He read off the details of the plea agreement. Kimberly Louise Lincoln pled guilty to one count of conspiracy, one count of accessory to a felony, obstruction, hindering, aiding and abetting. She’d be allocuting over in Kurt Danes’s county next week. She’d pled guilty there to manslaughter in the death of Douglas Winston. In light of the information she had provided the police and prosecution, and a lack of evidence demonstrating malicious intent, she would be sentenced to no less than five and no more than fifteen years.
The allocution held no surprises. She had done it out of misguided dreams of marital happiness with John Emmitt. She had intended no harm. She did not know why she had been so blind. Blah-blah-blah. I didn’t know why Harry’d insisted I come in person.
Then she turned, and apologized to me. “I’m sorry, Lil. For everything. I was being stupid. I was thinking about what I didn’t have, and I made some really bad decisions, and I betrayed you, and I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t bring Boris into the courtroom, so I have no idea if she meant it. But it was something, to have her apologize.
“And I only killed Doug because he was going to hurt me.”
Now that I knew was a lie. The old BS-o-meter zinged right into the red.
“I never meant you to get hurt, Lil. God’s own truth.”
After, when she’d been led away, demure and penitent, Harry told me, “She’s claiming self-defense on Winston, and we’ll have to let her. It’s our only chance to get Emmitt.”
I suddenly understood. “Skip made a very good deal.”
“Very good,” said Harry, but his mouth curled up in a wicked grin. “We don’t get Emmitt until she gets her itty-bitty sentence. I have to say, working against me has been good for Skip. He’s getting sharp. Five years ago, he’d never have thought to use leverage like that.”
“Does she really know where Emmitt is?”
“For all her protestations to the contrary, yes, she does. As for Winston…” Harry’s hand waved carelessly. “I strongly suspect he demanded more money for his silence. Or perhaps, given he died a few days at least after his cousin, he simply posed a threat. And a woman is never more fierce than in defense of her beloved.” He paused, reconsidered. “Unless, that is, she defends her child. I understand Miz Turner could teach the lioness and mother bear a thing or two.”
“She could,” I agreed. “I better go. Bobbi’s got Boris at the salon, God only knows how much trouble he’s caused.”
“One moment. You’ve heard the Ellers had to give back the money.”
I had heard. I’d smirked a long time about that.
“You may not have heard that they are now being denied K&R coverage. Ellers and Eller Enterprises both alike. No company will touch them.”
I grinned. Harry grinned. Then, with a wink and a jaunty wave, he was gone, and I headed back to Crazy.
***^***
Kim also had to allocute over in Danes’s county. I went out of curiosity. She’d told us that Doug Winston wouldn’t hurt a fly. I wanted to see how her account of self-defense matched up to that.
It didn’t.
According to her, she’d confronted Doug about the abduction going awry. This was after I was safely out of the hospital, a bit of timing I found interesting. They’d met at the old cabin, said Kim, because it was out of the way, and now that the police were done with it, it was probably the safest place on earth.
Not for Doug Winston.
They had argued. Doug accused Kim and her boyfriend John of shorting him his share. Kim denied it. As far as she knew, John had handed the money to Craig and if Craig had stiffed Doug, that was not her fault. Or John’s. He should go talk to Craig.
He couldn’t talk to Craig, Doug informed her, because Craig was nowhere to be found. Wasn’t answering his phone. Wasn’t at home.
Well, there he had it, said Kim. Craig took off with the money. She turned to leave. Doug grabbed her arm. She remembered that he was a desperate man. He had helped kidnap a sheriff. He had left that sheriff to die. Terrified, Kim had fought to escape Doug. She had no clear memory of how it happened. It was blurred. She only knew that suddenly she was free and Doug lay sti
ll on the floor.
The judge wasn’t quite as kindly as Judge Harper. He pressed her. “This agreement will not hold without a full allocution, young woman. What did you kill him with?”
I’d seen the preliminary autopsy report. Danes had faxed me a copy. Doug Winston had died of blunt force trauma to the head. It was somewhat suspicious that the part of his head to be bluntly forced was the back.
“I guess there was something to hand. A log or something.”
I thought back to the cabin. There’d been a lot of things lying around that could fit her description of “a log or something”. I wondered how she’d grabbed one if Doug had hold of her.
I know loose ends never get neatly tied up, but just once, it’d be nice.
“I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I ran back to my car and I just…I ran.” She started to cry. “After what they’d done to Sheriff Eller, I just didn’t want to stay and find out what he might do to me.”
I had a hard time sitting still and shutting up through that. Tall, better known as Doug Winston, had been the one to leave me those comforters. To give me what little chance I’d gotten. But Kim’s allocution was the best chance at getting her to cough up John Emmitt’s location. I had to sit there and take it.
Danes met me outside the courtroom. We shook hands, the way professionals do, and he said immediately, “If it wasn’t for getting that New York guy, I’d never have let this go through.”
“I hear you,” I commiserated. I hunched into my parka. It was March, and down on the flat, there’d be buds popping, but here in the mountains, it was still February cold and gray. “If he turns up alive. I’m starting to wonder.”
Danes subjected me to one of those shrewd drill instructor looks. “You never know someone,” he said, “till you’ve lived with them, and even then they’ll surprise you. Only God knows what people are thinking, and I’m not too sure He pays that much attention.” He huffed out a tired breath. “Well, I got a domestic to testify at. You drive careful, Sheriff.”
“Go easy,” I replied, and picked my way down the courthouse steps. They were old, stone, and slippery even when dry. I noticed the Lincolns getting into their car across the street. Matt had apologized to me about eighteen times for what Kim had done, but the life-spark had gone out of the man. Naomi looked no better. Two more casualties. For what? Money and a man.