“Listen guys!” Naomi said. “Please! We’ve got to do something!”
“All right,” Ahmed said. “I’ll go.”
“I don’t think so,” Isaac said. “I reckon this is not just about y’all. We all need ta go.”
Naomi nodded.
“Okay,” Ahmed replied.
***
Two Hours Later
“That was a waste of time!” Ahmed said. “He treated us like we were the criminals not those bastards who posted that sign. What the hell’s the matter with him?”
“He’s a ‘good ol’ boy’,” Isaac said.
“What’s that?” Naomi asked.
Isaac laughed, grasping her hand.
“Good ol’ boys are full-of-themselves rednecks. The worst ones have a little power. That deputy is a good example. Hey, he’s a new recruit... kinda proud of himself.”
“What do we do?” Naomi asked. She stepped closer to Isaac. “I’m even more frightened now. If we can’t count on the police, then what?”
“I don’t know about y’all,” Isaac said. “I’m gonna buy me a gun and then carry on just like before. We have work to do!”
“You’re stubborn,” Ahmed said. “Me too!” The defiant look in his eyes matched Isaac’s tone. “Carry on, I mean, but no weapons for me, thank you. This is one terrorist who’s gonna stay unarmed.”
“Don’t say that!” Naomi said. “Promise me you won’t ever use that word in public again. Promise?”
“All right, Naomi,” Ahmed said. He raised his arms in mock surrender. “All right. I promise.
***
Westland Place
“I’ll be back there next week,” Paul said over the speakerphone. “How’s everything going?”
“The plans are all done and finally approved,” Ahmed said. “We got the building permits last week, finally. The bureaucrats have been dragging their feet since you left and the politicians are pretty much useless. Both have been acting like they don’t want development here, at least not our development. The good news is we’re in our offices on site, as rustic as they are.”
“Hey, and the demolition crew is at work,” Isaac added. “Six guys... all local... started last Monday.”
Isaac, Ahmed, and Naomi were calling Paul from their new construction offices, the repurposed former office of the motel and restaurant.
“How long for the demolition?” Paul asked.
“Best guess is two weeks,” Isaac said. “Cleanup will take another week. It will be another week after that before we can get to work.”
“Why’s that?” Paul asked.
“Training,” Isaac replied. “All these fellas know how to swing a hammer. Where they grew up, their families couldn’t afford modern power tools. I want to keep the same guys from the demolition to work on construction. We’ll need twice that many once construction begins. When this job’s done, they’ll have experience that’ll make them employable.”
“Good thinking,” Paul said.
“Hope y’all won’t mind, Paul,” Isaac added. “I’ve given each of these fellas a set of their own tools... hand tools, as well as small power tools like cordless drills and saws, and secure tool boxes.”
“I’m fine with that,” Paul said. “I expect that having their own tools will improve their job prospects.”
“It’s great having Naomi here, too,” Ahmed said.
Isaac nodded with enthusiasm, winking at Naomi.
“I’m glad you’re there, Naomi,” Paul said. “And I’m pleased you’re fitting in with those two roughnecks!”
“Seriously,” Isaac said. “We had issues with the plans by an architect in Kingsport. Ahmed and I couldn’t resolve them, and the architect said he was too busy to do it right away. Naomi’s engineering skills sorted them out for us, and helped us deal with the bureaucrats to git the plans approved so the building permits could be issued.”
“Good for you, Naomi,” Paul said into the phone.
“Thanks, Paul,” she replied. “I hate to admit it, but it’s a joy working with these two scallywags!”
“Maybe we should put you on staff too,” Paul said.
“Already done,” Ahmed said. “Isaac is in charge of construction hiring.”
“Good,” Paul said, laughing. “Anything else?”
“I’m good,” Isaac said. “Very good, actually!” He looked fondly at Naomi. She smiled back.
“Nothing that can’t wait until you get here,” Ahmed said.
H-m-m-m, Paul thought. Something’s up.
“See the three of you soon,” he said.
“Cheers!” they replied.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Hale Springs Inn
Two Weeks Later
The phone rang in his suite. Paul was surprised for two reasons. It was almost six in the morning and few people knew he’d just got back from the UK the previous day.
“Hello.”
“Paul Winston?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Sheriff Jeff Mitchell of the Haines County Sheriff’s Department. We met a while back.”
“Yes of course, Sheriff,” Paul replied. “What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Winston.” Mitchell’s tone was somber. “I’m at your construction site on Highway 11 West. I need y’all to join me here, sir. Right away.”
“Certainly,” Paul said. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid there is, Mr. Winston,” Mitchell replied. “We’re investigating a homicide at this location.”
“A homicide?” Paul said. “Good Grief! I’ll be right there!”
“Mr. Winston?”
“Yes Sheriff.”
“Is a man named Isaac Dietrich with you?”
“He will be. I’m planning to meet him for breakfast,” Paul said.
“Please bring him along with you.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” Paul said.
Isaac was waiting when Paul arrived at McKinney’s Restaurant.
“There’s been a homicide at the work site,” Paul said as he sat down.
“What?” Isaac said. His hazel green eyes opened wide with surprise. “Someone’s been killed at the worksite? No one should be at work yet! I wonder if Ahmed knows.”
“Sheriff Mitchell didn’t say,” Paul replied. “He needs us there right away. You ready to go? We’ll grab a bite later.”
“I’m picking up Naomi at her room,” Isaac said. “Ahmed should be at the site soon if not by now. We’ll meet you there.”
***
Construction Site
Highway 11 West
As he drove up, despite the early morning darkness Paul could see Sheriff Mitchell waiting for him in the motel/restaurant parking lot.
Three Hawkins County Sheriff’s Department vehicles were on site, their headlights and flashing multi-color roof lights casting an ominous mood in the pre-dawn darkness.
“Is Mr. Dietrich not with y’all?” Mitchell said.
“They should be along shortly,” Paul replied as he stepped from his car, glancing around. “Isaac was going to pick up someone and head straight here.”
Paul described Isaac’s pickup. Both peered down the highway.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Paul asked.
“A homeless guy looking for empties found the body of a young man,” Mitchell said. “It was hanging from a beam where the old restaurant used to be. The door had been smashed.”
“My God!” Paul said. “Hanging? Do you know who it is?”
He looked around for Ahmed, normally the first at work every morning. There was no sign of him or his car.
“Somebody local?” he added.
“We recovered ID after my men lowered the body,” Mitchell said. “One of the pieces of identification is an international driver’s license issued to a young male, appears to be Middle Eastern, named Ahmed Mousavi.”
“What?” Paul said. He slumped back against his car. “Oh my God, no! Surely not Ahmed! Can I see him?”
“Yes,” Paul managed. “He’s a friend and the project planner for this development.”
“I see,” Mitchell said. “I’m sorry fer your loss, sir. If you feel up to it, I would appreciate it if y’all could confirm the identity before the medical examiner removes the body.”
“Yes... of course,” Paul said. His mind was refusing to accept the terrible information, silently hoping that somehow, some way, another person, anyone... had possession of Ahmed’s wallet. Logic told him otherwise.
Through the fog of his shock, Paul heard Mitchell tell a deputy in the parking lot to radio other units to be on the lookout for Isaac Dietrich. He relayed the vehicle description Paul had given him. Mitchell told his deputies to bring Isaac to the scene.
Paul felt the weight of impending doom as Mitchell led the way into the restaurant where renovations had begun.
Mitchell stopped and turned to Paul.
“I should forewarn y’all, Mr. Winston,” he said. “The victim is not a pretty sight. The medical examiner will have to determine whether he was dead before being hung.”
Paul shuddered.
Dear God! Surely it’s not Ahmed! Who would do such a thing? How could this happen?
They stopped beside a sheet covering a long shape on the floor.
Mitchell leaned over, grabbed a corner of the sheet and pulled it back.
Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He could hardly recognize the cut and battered face. It was Ahmed’s!
“Oh my God!” Paul said. He reeled back heavily against a wall.
Ahmed’s youthful face was covered in blood. His eyes were swollen shut, his nose was broken, and his jaw was at an unnatural angle.
Paul swayed unsteadily.
“Y’all okay, sir?” Mitchell asked.
Paul nodded uncertainly, steadying himself against the wall, unable to speak. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Lying at his feet was the lifeless body of the young man he was mentoring... who’d become his friend... a young man with enormous promise... huge potential... who had turned his life around... who he’d brought here.
Dear God! Paul thought. My friend. Who did this to you? Who would be so angry, so horribly barbaric? What a terrible, senseless waste of a life.
“How well did y’all know this man?” Mitchell asked.
“As I said, he is... he was a colleague. He was in charge of the planning for this construction,” Paul said. “Actually, he was something of a protégée. He was about to become a partner in the property. I represent the owner. Most of all, Ahmed was my friend.”
“Do y’all know if Mr. Mousavi had any enemies?” Mitchell asked. “Anyone who may have threatened him recently?”
“No, not here,” Paul said. “He’s visiting... Ahmed was visiting from England. He has dual citizenship, British and American. Born in San Diego. He had a few scrapes with people in London. Local thugs, really. That’s one reason I brought him here with me.”
“I see,” Mitchell said.
“Do you have any idea what happened... how this happened?” Paul asked.
“From the look of the victim’s injuries, I’d guess there were at least two, possibly three attackers,” Mitchell said.
Paul’s grief was making it difficult for him to focus on what the sheriff was saying.
“It appears the homicide took place in the early hours this morning. The medical examiner will determine the approximate time of death. Any idea why Mr. Mousavi would be on the premises at such a late hour?”
“No idea,” Paul replied. “Ahmed often worked late and so did Isaac, his partner on this project. Ahmed is... was also in the habit of starting early, before everyone else arrived... but not that late... or this early. What about the crew? Six or eight workers will be here shortly.”
“I instructed my deputies to send them home when they arrive but to remain available,” Mitchell said. “We will be interviewing all of them later. Am I correct that Mr. Mousavi was staying at the Hale Springs Inn?”
“Yes,” Paul said. “We had dinner together last evening. Why do you ask?”
“Judging from the lack of blood and other evidence at this location it’s possible the homicide took place elsewhere and the body was transported here,” Mitchell replied. “We’ll be checking his room.”
A thought struck Paul. He hadn’t seen Ahmed’s rental car in the parking lot.
“I don’t see his car,” Paul said.
“Pardon me?” Mitchell said.
“Ahmed’s car,” Paul said. He gave Mitchell a description.
“Thank you,” Mitchell said. “I’ll have a statewide alert issued for it.”
“Did you get all that,” he said to a deputy standing beside Ahmed’s body.
“Yes, Sheriff,” the officer said. “I’ll call that in right away.”
Mitchell’s cell phone rang.
“Mitchell,” he said. “Yes. I see. Was that necessary? I see. Where is he now? Okay. A passenger? Where is she? Okay. I’ll be there shortly. Mr. Winston’s with me. I’ll bring him along.”
Mitchell looked up at Paul.
“We have a man in custody,” he said.
“That was quick, Sheriff,” Paul said. “It won’t help poor Ahmed, but it’s good to hear. Do you know who it is?’
“Yes,” Mitchell said. “Isaac Dietrich was stopped by my officers a short while ago. He was shot while resisting arrest.”
“What?” Paul said. He struggled to keep from shouting his next words: “Is he all right? That can’t be! He wouldn’t do that!”
“He’s been transported to Hawkins County Memorial Hospital,” Mitchell said. “He’s under guard there. A young woman was with him. She’s identified as Naomi Hamilton, a British national. She was taken into custody.”
“On what charge?” Paul asked, reeling with shock. He willed himself to remain as calm as he could manage.
“Accomplice to murder,” Mitchell replied.
“Good Lord!” Paul said. “What’s going on here, Sheriff?”
“What d’y’all mean?”
“How could you possibly assume Isaac and Naomi had anything to do with this? You’ve hardly begun your investigation. What evidence do you have?”
“We believe there are reasonable grounds to support those charges,” Mitchell shot back. His now-brisk manner surprised and annoyed Paul. “I’m not at liberty to discuss this any further.”
“I want to see both of them,” Paul insisted.
“I’ll look into it,” Mitchell said.
“They’ll need an attorney,” Paul said looking at his watch and thinking out loud.
“I want y’all to meet me at my office,” Mitchell said. His voice maintained a brusk authoritative tone. “We’ll need a statement from y’all.”
“Of course, Sheriff,” Paul said. “I want to see Isaac first.”
“I believe the suspect is in surgery,” Mitchell replied. “It’ll be a few hours before you can see him.”
“Okay,” Paul said more calmly than he felt. “Let’s go see Naomi Hamilton.
“I guess I can arrange that,” Mitchell said reluctantly.
“I’ll meet you there,” Paul said.
***
Sheriff’s Department,
Rogersville, TN
Paul could see Naomi was verging on hysterics when he arrived at the holding cells. She stopped pacing and rushed over as he entered the cell.
“Can you get me outta here, Paul? I have to go see Isaac! The cops shot him for no reason! Is he all right? What’s going on?
“I just phoned the hospital,” Paul said. He held her gently. “They told me that Isaac is going to be okay. He’ll be out of surgery soon.”
Naomi stepped back.
“Can you do something... anything?” she asked. “Those charges are ridiculous. They’re bogus. You know that!”
“Of course they are,” Paul replied. “But the sherif
f made it clear he’s not about to drop the charges.”
“When can you get me out of here?” she repeated.
“Not right away, I’m afraid,” Paul replied. “You’ll have to go before a judge and apply for bail. I’ll find a lawyer for you right away. We’ll get you out just as soon as we can.”
Naomi looked up at Paul. Her tear-stained face was filled with fear, worry, and fatigue.
“Just as soon as I leave,” Paul said. “I’ll contact the nearest British consul and also get a lawyer working on your case. I’m going to do everything I can.”
“What’s going on, Paul?” she asked again. “Why did they do that to Isaac? It was horrible! The cops won’t tell me anything, just that I’m under arrest! They won’t even tell me why I’m being held. Do you know? Where’s Ahmed?”
“I’m aware of a few things,” Paul said. “Before we get into that, can you tell me what happened?”
“It was the strangest thing, Paul. There was a knock on my door really early this morning. I looked at the clock beside the bed. It was 2:36. Ahmed was at the door. He said one of the security guards at the construction site had called… said there’d been a break-in and could he come right away. I offered to go with him, but Ahmed said ‘no’, that I should go back to sleep... he’d take care of it. He said he wanted to be at the hardware store early anyway and this likely would take a few hours. He promised to call us in the morning from the site. Isaac has been driving me. We haven’t heard back from Ahmed. That’s all I know, Paul, except Isaac said that you told him a body had been found at the work site. On the way there, the cops stopped us on the highway... and when Isaac got out of the truck when they told him to, they shot him for no reason! I just can’t believe it! What the hell is going on, Paul? I’ve got to go see Isaac!”
“I have some terrible news,” Paul said. “I don’t know how to tell you this in a gentle way...”
“What, Paul?” Naomi said. “You said Isaac is going to be okay. Right?” Her red-rimmed eyes were full of fear. “Something’s wrong! Has something happened to Isaac? Or to Ahmed? Paul? Are they all right? Tell me the truth! What’s wrong?”
Secret Shepherd Page 21