Dead Reckoning

by Dawn Lee McKenna

  Beckett parked beside him and shot him a broad grin. Evan rolled his window down and Beckett did the same.

  “Damn, Bigtime, you nailed that one.” Beckett said. “Took you long enough, though.”

  Evan nodded and said, “He’s just part of this. Probably not the biggest part.”

  “Well, I may be just a small-town cop, but even I could’a told you that,” Beckett said, still grinning. “Let’s go see what we can shake out of him.”

  Beckett led Evan through a police station that was compact but functional. At the rear of the building was a single holding cell just large enough to accommodate a cot and a commode. Evan guessed the cell had never held anyone more interesting than the town drunk. The officer who had driven Tommy to the station was in the process of collecting and cataloging his personal items as Evan and Beckett approached.

  “You got somewhere private we can talk to him?” Evan asked.

  Beckett nodded, then called over to the officer, “You can finish booking him in a minute, Chet. We need a word with him first.” He looked at Evan. “We don’t have much of an interview room, but it’ll do.”

  He and Evan walked Tommy down a short hall and to a room that was barely large enough to fit the three of them, a small square table, and two chairs. Beckett sat Tommy down in one of them, and indicated that Evan should take the other. He leaned up against the wall between them.

  “This is looking pretty dismal for you, Tommy,” Evan said. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped. “What I’ve got so far, you’re looking at spending the rest of your life behind bars. The people of this state have very little pity for a man who murders an officer of the law.”

  Tommy met Evan’s gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the floor.

  “Here’s the thing,” Evan continued. “I don’t think you acted alone. I think someone else put you up to this, planned it out for you. You tell me who you were working with, help me understand what led up to this, why you decided to murder the sheriff, and maybe we can do something to help you out.”

  “I didn’t murder nobody,” Tommy said.

  “Tommy,” Evan said, “we know you were there that night. We can place MacMac’s truck at the scene, and at the time, of the murder, and you were the only one with access to that truck. We can connect you to one of the burner phones used to set up the meet.”

  Tommy was shaking his head, still looking at the floor.

  “And we know it was you who pulled the trigger. When you shot Hutchens, the slide tore a chunk of skin off the back of your hand. That chunk of skin was still inside the gun when we recovered it. It’ll take about a week for us to get a DNA profile from that sample, but you and I already know whose DNA it is, don’t we?”

  Tommy looked up from the floor, just for a second, then looked back down. “I guess so,” he whispered.

  “Help us understand, Tommy,” Evan said. “Help us see the bigger picture. Hutchens wasn’t involved in your original arrest. He helped you get out of prison early. What was going on between you two? Why would you want to shoot him?”

  Tommy shook his head. “I didn’t.”

  “Didn’t shoot him or didn’t want to shoot him?”

  The door opened, and a young officer with shockingly red hair came in with three bottles of water. He looked at Beckett.

  “Give ‘em here, Pruitt.”

  The young officer handed Beckett the bottles, nodded at his boss, and left. Evan waited while Beckett took the cap off of one and held it out to Tommy. Tommy reached up with both hands and took it.

  “Oh, them’s ice cold,” Tommy said, sounding like a little kid with a popsicle. It made Evan sad. “Thanks, Chief.”

  Evan took a second bottle from Beckett, but didn’t open it. He set it down on the table and watched as Tommy drained half of his, a small stream of it cutting a track through the grime on Tommy’s chin. He waited until Tommy had put the bottle down before he continued.

  “Tommy, talk to me about that night. What made you decide to shoot Hutch?”

  Tommy just shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know…” he mumbled.

  “See, Tommy, I don’t believe that,” Evan said, gently. “You put Hutchins down on his knees and shot him in the back of the head. You don’t do something like that without a reason.”

  Tommy said nothing.

  “According to what Caldwell here got from the cell phone records, Hutch called you.” Beckett said. Evan was surprised by his voice. It was completely devoid of the flippant sarcasm Evan had come to expect from him. “Hutch asked you to meet him, right? Why? What was it he wanted to meet with you about?”

  “I…I can’t tell you that,” Tommy said to his water.

  “Son,” Beckett said, “it can’t get much worse for you than it already is. You understand that, right? No matter what you tell us now.”

  “I gave my word,” Tommy said.

  Evan and Beckett exchanged a look.

  “You don’t want to go back on a promise, but you’ve got no qualms about blowing half of Hutch’s face off?” Beckett asked. “Those are some squirrely scruples, kid. Did the other guy help you out any more than Hutch did?”

  Tommy grimaced, but said nothing.

  “Gave your word to who, Tommy?” Evan asked, but got no response.

  “I ain’t saying nothin’ else,” Tommy said.

  “When you left your place to meet Hutch,” Beckett asked, “were you already planning on killing him? Or did something happen at the meeting?”

  “I said, I ain’t saying nothin’ else,” Tommy growled. “Don’t ask me nothing else, cause I ain’t answering.”

  Evan sat up and sighed. Beckett was about to speak, but Evan gave a slight wave, stopping him. He let the silence settle, then said, “No more questions, Tommy. For now, anyway. But I’m going to say a few words, and I’d like you to think about what I’m going to say, because this will determine how you will spend the remaining years of your life.”

  Tommy spread his hands, still shaking his head and looking down. “Go ahead and say your words,” he said. “Don’t need my permission. Ain’t nothing I can do to stop you, anyway.”

  “We know you put Hutchins on his knees and executed him with a single shot to the back of the head. We can prove this in court. If you’re lucky, you’ll be sentenced to life in prison. If not, you’ll get the death penalty. This is Florida, Tommy. Florida executes. You know that, right?”

  Tommy looked up at Evan, his expression a mixture of fear and sadness. Evan felt like he should apologize for reminding the kid of how bad things really were.

  “Tommy, think this through with me. We know what you did. We also know you didn’t do it on your own. Somebody put you up to it, right? Somebody helped you plan this out. You say you gave your word not to tell. I get that, I do, but whoever it was that helped you plan this, I bet he gave you his word, too, didn’t he? Said that if you did everything just right you couldn’t get caught?”

  Tommy looked up quickly, and Evan knew he was right.

  “Well, he lied to you, didn’t he? Here you are, headed for Bradford County. I want you to think about that. Think about giving up the rest of your life to protect the person who had you kill a man that tried to help you.”

  “That ain’t who I’m protecting,” Tommy said. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Somebody put a fair amount of planning into killing Hutch,” Beckett said. “That same somebody conned you into pulling the trigger. And now that somebody’s just gonna let you pay the whole bill.”

  Tommy looked from Beckett to Evan, then stared at his water like he wanted another drink but didn’t think he deserved it.

  “It’s okay, let him think for now,” Evan said, standing. “But Tommy, you need to really think about what’s happening here. By refusing to talk to us, you’re not protecting anybody. Not really. We will figure this out eventually, one way or the other. But if you talk to us, if you lay it all out, maybe we can
help you. Maybe get you a lighter sentence, give you the chance to get out of there before you turn eighty.”

  Tommy looked up at him, and his look reminded Evan of half the kids he knew in foster care. The scared ones.

  “Have Beckett call me if you decide you want my help,” Evan said.

  Beckett called his officer in and instructed him to finish booking Tommy, then followed Evan out to the front of the station.

  Evan had a cigarette lit before he’d cleared the door. He stopped on the front steps and Beckett nodded at his smoke. “Get one of those from you, Big Time?”

  Evan held out the pack, and Beckett slid one out, used his own Bic to light it, then blew out a big plume of smoke.

  “That kid’s the sorriest thing,” Beckett said finally.

  “You think of anybody he thinks he owes more than he did the sheriff?”

  Beckett shook his head. “I don’t really know the kid that well. They’re from over around Crawfordville, Wakulla, someplace over there. Moved here after Tommy’s mother died. I think Tommy was around eight, something like that. The old man was a first class jerk. Nobody liked him, nobody mourned him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Drove his Tahoe into the rear end of a semi carrying a load of pigs,” Beckett said. “Pigs were uninjured.”

  “You think he’s thinking?” Evan asked.

  “Thinking’s not Tommy’s strong suit,” Beckett said, “And I’m saying that to be mean. He needs a lawyer that’ll get him evaluated, see if maybe he can get some leniency for him. Life sentence. Somebody played the kid.”

  “You’re sure you can keep him safe here, until we transfer him somewhere?”

  “Yeah, nobody’s gonna touch him,” Beckett said.

  “It’s not just for his sake,” Evan said. “He pulled the trigger. But I want the guy that pulled Tommy’s trigger.”

  Beckett dropped his butt and held out his hand. “Kid’s good here.”

  Evan shook it, thinking that sympathy for a cop killer was a strange thing for the two of them to bond over. If not bond, at least set aside their mutual dislike for a moment.

  He squashed out his cigarette, poked it into the ash can nobody seemed to use, and headed for his car.

  TWENTY-THREE

  WHEN EVAN WALKED BACK into the SO, he felt like a pimp that had just crashed a church picnic. Not one person spoke to him as he made his way down the hall toward Hutchins’ office, but everybody managed to give him one look or another, none of them friendly. When he turned into Vi’s office, she looked up at him over her beak and her bi-focals, and pursed her lips.

  “I’m impressed,” she said without humor.

  “Why’s that?” Evan asked wearily.

  “You made it all the way back here with all of your vertebra intact.”

  “I take it they’re upset that I didn’t let the SO make the arrest.”

  “Of course.”

  “You know, if the grid collapses and all of the cell towers go silent, none of you in this county will miss a thing.”

  “Your flippancy is not at all endearing, Lieutenant.”

  “Nothing about me is endearing, Vi.” Evan sighed as he slipped off his blazer. “Look, I don’t even want this job, and you know it better than anyone. But I can’t do it without at least one person in my corner.”

  Vi took her glasses from their perch and let them drop against her chest. “There are no corners in this room, Mr. Caldwell,” she said. “My office is round by necessity. I can’t do my job, either, if I can’t remain neutral. That is to say, I don’t need you to plead your case with me. Just do your job with integrity and try not to make everyone else hate you.”

  Evan nodded, too emotionally worn to do much else.

  “The warrants you requested are on your desk,” she added.

  “Which desk?”

  “The one where I’m supposed to put things for the sheriff’s perusal,” she snapped, and put her glasses back on.

  “Thank you,” Evan said as he headed for Hutchins’ office.

  “Please be advised,” she said to her computer monitor. “I don’t believe for one moment that Sheriff Hutchins ever laid a hand on his wife. Neither does anyone else.” Evan stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and she looked back at him. He was too far to be sure, but he swore her eyes were watering. “I would have been the first one to beat him senseless.”

  He nodded, then went inside the office he didn’t want to occupy.

  An hour later, Evan asked Vi to get Goff for him. After a few minutes, Goff opened the door and came in, carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

  “Are you speaking to me?” Evan asked him.

  “Well, I haven’t said anything yet,” the man answered, and sat down in the chair in front of Evan’s desk.

  “You know what I mean,” Evan said.

  “Look, I can see both sides,” Goff said. “A lot of them were real close to Hutch. They think they oughta been allowed to see this thing through.”

  “I understand that,” Evan said. “But their personal feelings could blow the whole case, get it thrown out before it has a chance.”

  “On account of Mac being banged up and all,” Goff said. Evan shrugged. “MacMac mouthed off to the wrong cell mate, tried to be a big man. It’s on the video from last night. Evan sighed. Goff threw him a triumphant half-grin. “Guess you stepped in somethin’, Caldwell. Got some bias on your shoe.”

  Evan nodded. “I guess it runs both ways.”

  “So, what’d you need from me?”

  “I’ve got trouble with these cell phone records,” Evan answered, poking at the stack of papers in front of him.

  “What kind of trouble?” Goff asked, before filtering some black coffee through his moustache.

  “I’ve been looking at these things for two days,” Evan said. “The thing that’s bothering me is I can’t find a connection to a third party. We’ve got two burner phones, one used by Hutchins, one used by Morrow. We know somebody else had to have put Tommy up to this, Tommy nearly admitted as much. But if there was a third person, he doesn’t show up on any of the cell records. The two burners only ever called each other, and I can’t find any calls to Morrow’s or Hutchins’ personal lines that could have been from a third burner.”

  “You know, back before phones, people still managed to conspire,” Goff said.

  “And I’m sure you still managed to catch them,” Evan said.

  One side of Goff’s mustache lifted. His eyes twinkled just a bit as he leaned back in his chair.

  “All I’m getting at is maybe they didn’t talk by phone.”

  “Let me ask you, Goff, if you had been the brains behind this, would you have the confidence in Morrow to send him out to kill Hutchins in the first place, and then to keep his mouth shut about it afterward?”

  “Well you know what they say about two men keeping a secret.”

  “Exactly,” Evan nodded. “So, why didn’t he kill Morrow after Morrow killed Hutchins?”

  “They must be close,” Goff said. “Family, maybe?”

  “Could be…” Evan considered, but it just didn’t sit right.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Before he could answer, James Quillen swung the door open and made his entrance into the sheriff’s office. Evan stood. A second later, Goff lowered the front two legs of his chair and got to his feet as well.

  “Commissioner,” Evan greeted him.

  “Sheriff,” Quillen said, showing all his pretty teeth. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “I was just leaving,” Goff said. Evan hadn’t noticed him moving, but Goff had slipped past Quillen and was almost out the door already.

  “Hold up, Goff,” Evan said. “I still need your help.”

  Goff looked underwhelmed, but leaned against the wall and took a sip of his coffee.

  “I hear you have a suspect in custody,” Quillen said. “Got a confession and everything, according to the gossip.”

 
; “A partial confession,” Evan admitted. “We’re still working to get the rest of it. I am not quite ready to announce anything publicly.”

  “Oh, no, of course not,” Quillen chuckled. “Still gotta tie up all those pesky lose ends and what-have-yous, eh?”

  “Something like that,” Evan said.

  “Well, I don’t mean to take up too much of your time. I just dropped by to congratulate you on bringing this case to a close so quickly. This has been a very tragic and traumatic loss to our community. I know your diligent efforts will help restore the county’s faith in its elected officials. I wanted to be the first to thank you, in person, for your dedication and professionalism.”

  “I appreciate that,” Evan said. He studied Quillen for a minute then said, “While you’re here, let me ask you a question. Something has been bothering me about this case.”

  “What’s on your mind?” Quillen asked.

  “Mac McMillian has been a key player in this case. In fact, he was our prime suspect for a few hours,” Evan said.

  Quillen continued to smile at Evan, but said nothing.

  “It turns out, he had been acting as a confidential informant for Hutchins.” Evan said. “Were you aware of this?”

  “Well, sure,” Quillen said. “As commissioner, I regularly receive briefings from the sheriff as to his doings. I believe McMillian’s name came up once or twice. Why do you ask?”

  “His file is missing,” Evan said. “The folder is still in the drawer, but all the contents are gone. I’m assuming Hutch took them out of the office, maybe in connection with the meeting the night he died. You don’t happen to have it, do you?”

  Quillen looked confused. “Why would I?”

  “Well, sir, I reviewed the surveillance video from the station’s cameras,” Evan said. “From the time Hutchins was killed until the time I discovered McMillian’s file missing, and aside from Vi, you are the only other person to be in this office alone. I thought maybe, since Hutch was reporting to you on it, that you might have needed the file.”