Almost Home

by Caroline Clemmons

  ALMOST HOME

  Link Dixon Mysteries, Book One

  By Caroline Clemmons

  Copyright 2014 by Caroline Clemmons

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Special thanks to my Hero husband for support, nurture, and love.

  Thanks to my late father, Pearson Madison Johnson, for teaching me to read and love reading.

  Thanks to the Raven Mavens critique group for their input and encouragement: Dee Stuart, Earl Staggs, Kevin Tipple, and Mark Troy.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  About Caroline Clemmons

  Foreword

  Since my first Nancy Drew book, I’ve been hooked on mysteries. I read every mystery the library bookmobile brought to our school. In fourth grade, I was lucky enough to have a really great teacher, Mrs. Huff, and she gave each child a Christmas present she’d picked especially for him or her. For me, she chose an Erle Stanley Gardner mystery. I was so excited to have a “real” book. My mother, who did not like reading until much later in her life, was scandalized that a teacher would give a child an adult book. Worse, she flipped through the pages and found the word damn. She was carrying on in the way she did when my dad smiled at her the way he always did and suggested he read the book first to see if it was appropriate. He loved reading, and especially enjoyed mysteries, so no surprise he thought the book was fine for me to read. From that day, I was totally hooked on mysteries!

  Fast forward more years than I’m willing to admit and here I am still reading mysteries, only now I’ve written a few. In fact, most of my romances are also mysteries. When I decided to write this particular mystery, I came up with a story set in a fictional county and a town very much like the one near which I live. Because Cartersville is fictional, it can include those businesses and historical sites I need. Plus, I like to poke fun at good ol’e boys and gals and wouldn’t want anyone thinking he or she was the butt of my humor. Believe me, there are enough people living in my head that I don’t have to use real ones!

  ALMOST HOME is about Link Dixon, a Dallas police detective who resigns to move back to his hometown after the death of his wife. Link has inherited his maternal grandmother’s Victorian home, a place he and his son love--but keeping up with repairs is an ordeal for Link. He hopes living among extended family will once more put a smile on his solemn 6-year-old son Jason’s face. That part seems to be working. But the only law enforcement job Link could find without leaving the county was deputy sheriff, and he was given the bottom man on the totem pole position of night patrol. To help his son, he’ll do anything, so he cowboys up and tolerates what he knows is the run around from his boss, and old classmate who peaked his senior year in high school and has been surviving on his football career ever since. ALMOST HOME has a supporting cast of quirky characters to add humor to the quest, but there are plenty of scenes where Link’s life is threatened, too.

  Chapter One

  The dispatcher’s voice interrupted Link Dixon’s thoughts. Aw, hell, he recognized the radioed address. Virgil Lee creating havoc again. “On my way. Five minutes ETA.”

  The dispatcher assured him, “Back up’s in route, but he’s twenty minutes away.”

  The hell of his new position in Spencer County Sheriff’s Department was that he’d grown up here. Stood to reason that sooner or later a call would involve old acquaintances or kin. But damn, why this one? And why his first night on the job?

  At least Virgil Lee wasn't close kin, maybe a third cousin.

  Close enough for discomfort.

  Link made a U-turn. With lights flashing but no siren, he sped toward the call. Three minutes later he pulled to a stop in front of the Patterson's doublewide. The front door stood open.

  Stifling heat blanketed Link when he slid from his patrol car. The kind of heat that sucked the energy out of a person and made short tempers shorter. He gave one last thought to the comfort of his air-conditioned patrol car, then headed for the mobile home.

  Through the screen door, he saw Nadine and Virgil Lee locked in struggle. Virgil Lee's hands gripped her throat and she gripped his wrists as if in a futile attempt to break her husband’s hold. Some things never changed.

  Unfortunately.

  Link figured he couldn’t wait for help and ran toward the disturbance.

  A dog’s frantic barking from somewhere behind the home didn’t drown out Virgil Lee’s shouting.

  "I'll teach you to dial 9-1-1 on me," his cousin screamed and shook Nadine.

  Her head snapped back and forth with neck-breaking force as if she were a rag doll.

  Anger fed the adrenaline that pumped through Link’s veins as he prepared for confrontation. Double damn. Virgil Lee was even bigger than Link remembered.

  "Cousin Virgil Lee?” he called through the screen door. “It's Link Dixon. I'm coming in."

  Virgil Lee looked up, then scowled at his wife. "See what you've done now?" He threw Nadine to the floor between himself and Link and kicked her hard before he fled through the house and out the back door.

  Nadine rubbed at her throat. “Go,” she croaked and motioned for Link to follow her husband.

  With a glance to ensure she was physically well enough to be left alone, Link raced out the back door and saw his worthless cousin disappear over the fence. Link dodged a barking Doberman and followed Virgil Lee around the side of the house to the front carport. With one motion, Virgil Lee slid onto the seat of his old truck and started the engine.

  No you don’t, you mangy coyote.

  Link yanked open the driver's side door
, his breath coming in fast gasps. He braced himself on the running board and clamped a hand on the doorframe before Virgil Lee got the truck in motion. Dust spewed into a cloud as Virgil Lee shot the classic Chevy out of the drive, but Link held on. A rock flew from the tire and dinged the door an inch from his foot.

  "Give it up, Virgil Lee,” Link ordered. “You'll only make more trouble for yourself by trying to get away. Besides, you smell like a brewery. You're too drunk to be driving anywhere."

  Virgil Lee glared over at him. "Yeah? Kin or not, you're not taking me to jail." Virgil Lee jabbed his elbow into Link's gut.

  Link clung onto his precarious perch.

  At the street, Virgil Lee jolted the truck to a stop. Gears grated as he worked to jam the Chevy from reverse into first.

  Link chopped a right across the man's arms to prevent the gear change, then clamped his left hand on the steering wheel.

  With a scream of outrage, Virgil Lee slammed his ham-sized fist into Link's chin.

  Pain radiated through Link’s brain and his ears buzzed. He blinked and tried to focus. Barely keeping his grip on the steering wheel, he grabbed the keys and switched off the ignition. The motor shuddered and died, and the truck jerked to a stop. Link tossed the keys behind him.

  Tightening his chokehold on Link’s neck, Virgil Lee swiveled on the seat and aimed a hard kick toward Link's groin.

  Link twisted his body and took the blow on his thigh. Another burst of pain raced through his body. Much more of this and his leg might snap in two. Or his windpipe. Throughout the assault, he kept his grip on the steering wheel.

  Then, with a tremendous jerk, he heaved Virgil Lee out of the truck. Dust still whirled around the vehicle. They struggled against the side of the pickup bed and fell to the ground.

  Link threw a hard punch to Virgil Lee's abdomen, and his attacker loosened his grasp of Link's throat. He inhaled, dust and all, to get breath through his mangled airway, and landed another blow to Virgil Lee's gut.

  They thrashed around, rolling on the ground, until Virgil Lee straddled Link. Virgil Lee was at least fifty pounds heavier—and ten times meaner. Link punched again, and this time Virgil Lee fell back against the road. Drunk or sober, the man was strong as an ox.

  With all his weight behind his fist, Link swung a few punches of his own. Satisfaction filled him as his cousin’s head jerked back and blood ran from his nose. Link followed with another to the abdomen. That one sent Virgil Lee down. With a last burst of strength, Link cuffed him.

  Thank you, God.

  Gremlins inside Link’s skull operated a jackhammer. He jerked his cousin to his feet and sent him toward the patrol car.

  “Dammit, Virgil Lee. Now I have to take you in.”

  Virgil Lee snarled, "Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it. Big Momma will have me out before you finish the paperwork."

  Knowledge that Virgil Lee spoke the truth only fueled Link’s disgust. He shoved his cousin into the back seat of the patrol car and slammed the door. And to think, he was related to this piece of shit. He wondered if stupid ran in Virgil Lee’s genes and hoped his cousin never had kids.

  Leaning against the side of the car a moment, Link wiped his mouth against the metallic taste of his own blood. He gasped to catch his breath. He only delayed the inevitable, so he reached for the radio and made the call to dispatch.

  “Cancel the back up. I have the suspect in custody. Send an ambulance for the wife.”

  This part of his job he hated, and right now he hated Virgil Lee for putting him in this awkward position. Link would have hours of paperwork to delay him. He figured it was a good thing he never bothered to work out what he made an hour—and with no pay for overtime.

  He should be chasing real criminals, not jerking around a ne'er do well relative who couldn't handle liquor. Link knew for certain Virgil Lee's harridan mother, known as "Big Momma" Patterson, would tell him that very thing the next time she saw him.

  Should make the next family reunion interesting.

  With Virgil Lee secured in the back seat, Link hurried back into the house. He found Nadine sitting on the sofa, crying. He pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her. "You okay, Nadine?"

  Taking the handkerchief, she shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. "My hip hurts so bad I can hardly walk." Her voice sounded raspy, most likely from the choking she'd endured.

  "What was it about this time?" He doubted she would press charges. From what he knew of family gossip, she had always refused to prosecute in the past. This time, though, Link had Virgil Lee on resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, and DUI. And he intended to see the bucket of shit spent some time in jail, in spite of Big Momma’s influence.

  "He came home drunk again. He's supposed to stay off the stuff so he can have a liver transplant." She wiped her eyes and nose.

  Link stepped into the kitchen and took a glass from the cupboard. He filled it with water and brought it back to Nadine. She took several swallows that appeared painful before she continued.

  "He has cirrhosis real bad. They won't let him have a new liver unless he stays sober for a year.” Her voice sounded a little more normal, but her red-rimmed eyes widened with fear. “He'll die without it." She broke into a new bout of sobs.

  "Nadine, how long have you and Virgil Lee been married?" Link tried to remember, and thought the much younger Nadine had dropped out of high school to wed Virgil Lee. Too young to know better than to marry a troublemaker.

  She sniffed. "Fourteen years. Why?"

  "In all that time, has he ever stayed sober any length of time?"

  She appeared to think over his question before she answered, "Once...about five years ago, he promised me he'd straighten up. He stayed sober almost three months."

  He pitied her, but doubted she would thank him for pointing out the reality of the situation. "Three months in fourteen years. Nadine, you see a pattern here?"

  A red blush crept across her pale face. "I know, I know. But usually, I stay out of his way when he's been drinking. If he isn't here by nine, I go to Big Momma's for the night. By then, I know he'll be mean drunk when he gets home."

  "So what happened tonight? Why didn't you leave?" Hell, why hadn’t she left her sorry excuse for a husband permanently years ago? This wasn’t love. Not that he was any expert given the acrimonious marriage he’d been in, but he saw plenty of happy couples. And he knew real love didn’t involve knocking anyone around.

  "My car's in the shop. I thought I'd be all right if I stayed in the back room and locked the door. I thought if I was real quiet he'd think I'd left."

  He glanced at the door at the end of the hall. Someone had put a fist through it. It didn't take a psychic to figure out the culprit.

  When he frowned, her jaw jutted out and she glared at him. "You're just like everyone else. You think I should leave him, don't you?"

  Defensive, the normal reaction to fear and regret. He’d seen it too many times and, in his opinion, people rarely changed.

  "Unless you enjoy being a punching bag?" he asked gently, trying to help her understand. He knew he was wasting his time, knew he wasn’t following procedure, but he felt duty-bound to give it a shot. After all, she was family—sort of.

  She studied him a moment as if trying to decide. Not, by his estimate, that it should have been a tough decision.

  "No, of course I don’t,” she said, still defensive. “But when he's not drinking, he's a good man and lots of fun."

  "Some fun." He nodded to the broken door and then touched her swelling eye.

  She sniffled, “I know.”

  "Why do you put up with this kind of treatment? Look at you—cuts and bruises all over, finger marks on your throat. Your head must be killing you from that shaking he gave you. And you said your hip is hurt."

  She looked at her hands and her voice trembled when she spoke. "He said he'd find me if I left him, like he did the two times I tried. Said he'd get me good next time. He’d do it, too, if he’d been drinking." Rais
ing her head to meet his gaze, she asked, "Besides, what would I do, where would I go?"

  “You know there’s a county shelter for battered women? They can put you in another county if you’re afraid he’ll find you, arrange counseling, and help you land a job. You don’t have to put up with this.”

  Nadine sniffed. "It's not as easy as you make it sound. The Pattersons have always been important in Doyle. Maybe he can't hold a job long, but his family is still respected around here. Without him, I'm nobody--just poor little Nadine Innis from nowhere. We’ve been together a long time and he needs me. Besides, you may not believe it, but I love him and...and I know he loves me."

  Damned if he could see how a woman could love a guy who used her as a punching bag at least three nights a week. In the distance, he heard the blare of an approaching siren and figured it was the ambulance.

  “First of all, we’ll get you taken care of,” Link said, “Then we’ll worry about the rest.”

  By the time he had taken Virgil Lee to jail, finished with Nadine's testimony at the hospital, and filled out the accompanying reports, Link had worked more than two hours of overtime. He knew it was wasted effort.

  Big Momma was related to the judge who was likely to set the bail, plus half the judges, justices of the peace, and lawyers in the area. In all probability, Virgil Lee would be back with his drinking buddies by the following night and charges would mysteriously disappear. Or, be written off to “time served” for the few hours in jail.

  Link had returned to Cartersville, Texas seeking all the word home implied—stability, security, slower pace, and extended family to comfort him and his son. Link left the office wondering if he could maybe open a web page business from his house.

  Nah. He'd miss law enforcement. Where else could he get this much abuse and still be underpaid?

  Chapter Two

  For the ten years he worked in the Dallas PD, Link dreamed of returning to his hometown west of Fort Worth. Planned for it. So why, now that he’d finally achieved his dream, did he feel like a visitor?