Wounded Badge Vista

by Kieran York

  As she walked down the hall, she looked back at the photo. Nick couldn’t make a positive ID on him. But he had selected Buckley Eisner. Buck for short. His AKAs were: Bronco, Hulk, and Bucky. Royce wondered what criminal vanity made so many felons use derivations of their names for their aliases. Why would someone named Buckley Eisner not change his name to Skip Allen?

  ***

  Royce stopped by the Crystal Sheriff’s Department Substation. Sam took the information about Buck Eisner. AKAs. His description and photo. The acting undersheriff then sent out the communiqué. Not for public consumption. In-House Communication only.

  “I’m guessing Nick very nearly identified him.”

  “Right. Is Terry flying home this evening or in the morning?” Royce inquired.

  “This evening. Depending on the flight, she should be arriving at three A.M. I was going pick her up, but one of the graveyard deputies offered.” Sam grinned, “See, it isn’t all bad. At least we still have helpful, kind deputies.”

  “Sam, he may be buttering you up to see if he can get some time off,” Royce kidded.

  “We’ve been over-staffing for these weeks, and no one’s complained. All they want to do is find the shooter.”

  “I’m not sure how I became so fortunate to have an entire team of perfect deputies.” Royce smiled. “Cops get such a bad name. Bad cops. Bent cops. All names that are ugly and accusing, and these men and women keep their cool. They journey on trying to keep peace, and doing the best they can. The problem is that there are a few that lose it, or that are dishonest, or maybe bullies. Some are frightened when they see a kid pull out a silver phone. It takes such a small, exacting slice of time to be on the ground thinking you’re going to bleed out, and seeing images of your loved ones.”

  “There are many sides to it,” Sam became serious. “A couple decades ago, I heard there were some bad cops up here.”

  “Yes,” Royce agreed. “I had to deal with a couple. Years ago, bad cops would get kicked out of the city, and small communities were always short of help. Then when we began to get terrific reputations, enforcers were standing in line to join us. But the first couple years I was here, it was discouraging.”

  “Do you ever think you’ve had enough? The danger. The names. The disrespect.”

  Royce swallowed. “Often, I do consider those things. Do you?”

  “Not more than a dozen times a day.” Sam inspected the computer screen.

  “And then?” Royce questioned.

  “Then I get a yearning for donuts and coffee.”

  Royce chuckled. “Sunshine, you are such a cheerleader.”

  ***

  It had been an extraordinarily long day, yet it seemed to move way too quickly for Royce to get her workload finished. At home, she felt the ease of some relaxation. Nadine had dropped off a few vegetables from her First-of-Summer crop. Antero and Vannie cleaned the veggies. Royce cut them. Hertha had allowed two of her tech assistances to take off early, so Hertha didn’t finish until after eight. Royce and the children ate earlier, and were planning on warming up dinner for Hertha.

  Royce didn’t want to interrupt the kids doing their homework. She greeted Hertha. “Hon, they wanted to serve you some of the veggies, but they’re working.”

  “And I’m so bushed, I’m not sure I’m even hungry.”

  Royce lowered her voice as she spoke, “Are you thinking about what we talked about. With your father?”

  “Royce,” her voice was irritated, she snapped, “I’ve told you not to call him that. He raped my mother, and he is not my parent. A sperm donator. Just a rapist. Don’t you get that?” When Hertha was upset, the shine in her eyes seemed to dull.

  “I do. What should I call him, a biological procreator? A person who beget you?”

  “I’m sorry, Royce. I know you’re going through a lot right now.”

  “Day after tomorrow I’ll be going to Denver to make arrangements to get Nick into the physical rehabilitation center. I told Bev that I’d check out the place where she’ll be staying. Then when the doctor releases Nick to the center, everything will be taken care of. They’ll take him and Bev by ambulance, and I’ll take his parents to Denver.”

  “I’m so glad he’ll be getting wonderful care.”

  Royce reached over took Hertha’s hand. “It’s the least we can do.” She paused. “Hon, I was wondering if the day after tomorrow, you would like me to call on…”

  “His name is Greg Corby and his daughter’s named Diane.”

  “I can pull up any information tomorrow have some background on him.”

  “All I know is that he is at the same residence as his daughter.”

  “I’ll find out what I can. And tomorrow I’ll get the information for Mike. You’re certain, that you want to see him charged?”

  “Yes.” Her jaw seemed to lock in anger. “I’ll tell you exactly what my mother told me about the three men. I don’t know which he is, because I don’t know the identity of the other two men. My mother was walking on the road from the library. A remote area. She was going home. She was only fourteen. She told me that they chased her with a car, and then jumped out of the car and took her down. There was a tall, very young one. He’d been injured and he limped. He was being browbeaten by the oldest of the threesome. They were inebriated, and the younger boy was following instructions – holding her down. Then the older ones insisted he rape her, too. The older ones said that he must do it. That way they’d be able to trust him not to squeal on them. They threatened the one who limped. My mother said he was not vicious like the other two older ones.” Hertha’s sobs became louder. She tried to hide them, so the children wouldn’t see her cry. “When my mother told me, I had hoped that it was the lesser despicable one who impregnated her. She called him the young man who cannot run.”

  Royce moved nearer, and held Hertha to her. “It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Royce, can you make him tell you the names of the other men, so we can get their DNA?”

  “I’ll try. Hertha, I just don’t want all this to hurt you. You’re sure you want to charge them?”

  “Yes. They need to be brought to justice. After my mother died, I vowed I would charge them. How would you feel if it were Molly? If your mother was violently raped by three men?”

  “I’d feel exactly the way you feel.” Royce held her tightly. Her warmth nearly scalded Royce. It was anger, it was the pain Hertha felt, and it was a retribution for all women. “I’d feel as you feel.”

  Chapter 15

  Although Hertha had suggested that Royce not begin the case against the rapists of Hertha’s mother until after the homicide case was closed, the sheriff was insistent. Royce felt that it would be therapeutic to spend scraps of time on the rape case, in between the current murder case. The murder case was certainly not stale, but enforcers had taken the investigation to its limit. They were now looking for a slippery couple, eluding them at every turn. The time-consuming inquiries were drawing to an end.

  Royce enjoyed staying busy. Yet productive. The search into the life of Gregory Corby allowed her to feel useful. She was making headway on the mission. She would be going to Denver, and it would be an excellent time to confront Corby.

  Gathering every astonishing portion of the puzzle that was available, Royce had some concept of how the life of Corby was lived. She’d check records, data bases, and media. Corby was in his late fifties. He lived in Lakewood, Colorado. His thirty-five-year old daughter, Diane McGill, was divorced and had lived with her father in the house he’d owned for twenty-five years. She’d lived there for the past two years, since Corby’s wife died. He’d worked for the county highway department for nearly four decades. Corby had no legal problems, and not a single infraction for what looked like his entire adulthood.

  Royce noticed that he had just turned eighteen-years of age when the rape of Hertha’s mother was committed. At that time, he was living with his family in
North Denver. Royce checked his high school records. It was almost as if he was little more than a name. No extra-curricular interests, no sports, nothing. A nearly blank student page. One picture each year in the student yearbooks. With a somber thin face, light-colored eyes, poorly trimmed blond straight hair and nondescript features that seemed ordinary. Everyday. He could have had hundreds of look-alike twins. Even the space for a nickname was empty.

  Surmising that he was the timid kid no one in school remembered, Royce wondered about his two friends that were with him. The three of them committed a felony together. Royce shut the file. She would meet with Greg Corby tomorrow, and perhaps hate him then. But for now, she would attempt to reserve impartiality.

  “Come on, Chance,” she called. “Let’s go talk with Mike.”

  Chance rushed ahead of her. She loved visiting the D.A.’s Office. Nearly everyone was well-stocked with dog treats.

  ***

  Royce walked into the office of D.A. Mike Parker just as he finished up his phone call.

  “Royce, you said you had some legal questions.” Mike cleared his desk slightly. They both sat, nearly at the same time. Looking across the semi-cluttered desk, Royce said, “I just need to get some legal direction on a rape case.”

  “Rape case?” he leaned forward.

  It seemed to be difficult for Royce to talk about it. “What I need to confide with you must be in completely confidential. It’s a sensitive subject.”

  Mike’s frown deepened. “Certainly. Whatever I can help you with.”

  “I need to know the legal remedy for…rape.”

  Squinting, his face became serious, as he questioned. “You know we prosecute rape with vigor.”

  “This was a rape forty years ago.”

  “Proving a case that old could be dicey.”

  “Mike, the DNA is a match.”

  “That takes care of proof positive of parentage, but not consent.”

  “The girl was fourteen. The rapist was probably over eighteen. She had not met the father or the other two men with him. Consent wasn’t given. However, I doubt that being raped by three strangers is consensual. What is the statute of limitations?”

  Inhaling deeply, Mike sat back. “No statute of limitation exists for filing a sexual assault case when there’s DNA evidence available. If a child is born of that rape, DNA evidence is a given. And as for younger, involuntary victims, no statute of limitation applies to charges.” He hesitated, “You don’t want me to know details?”

  “I know I can trust you, Mike. And certainly, if charges are brought, you’ll need to know about it. Maybe help guide us through.” Royce looked away, dreading the talk. “Hertha’s mother was raped when she was a young teenager. Fourteen. Walking home to the reservation where she lived. Men in a car chased her. Raped her.”

  “Was an incident report made of the sexual assault?”

  “Hertha said she thought so. Her mother told her that the Ute Reservation Chief knew. Authorities were called. What happened from there, all that time ago, who knows.”

  “There would probably have been someone aware of it. Some witness about the authorities knowing. Some files kept. Do you want me to check it out?”

  “Let’s wait until I talk with one of the perpetrators.” Royce stood. “Thanks, Mike. Hertha doesn’t want anyone knowing. Including Mom and Gran.”

  “Of course, not a word. After the baby is born of rape, they are sometimes called ex post facto. It remains an open case.” He paused, looking perplexed. “I was aware that Hertha wasn’t full-blooded Ute, but I never imagined this side of it. She so quiet, and regal.”

  Royce smiled, “Regal is a good word for her. She’s a lovely woman.”

  ***

  On the way back to her office, she saw Lyle and Courtney Dillard walking toward the D.A.’s Office. “Sheriff Madison,” Lyle said, offering his hand. “I was going to try to catch you and the D.A. We wanted to thank you for the work that was done on behalf of our son, and ourselves.”

  Courtney gave Royce a friendly hug, surprising the sheriff. “It’s been so difficult. I know everyone worked tirelessly to find Kirk. And now to find Kirk’s killer.”

  “The ending wasn’t what we’d hoped for, but we’re trying to find who did this to him. We want the murderer brought to justice.”

  Lyle asked, “You don’t think it was anyone he knew?”

  “We’re pretty sure he was selected for the truck, and the use of his identification. Someone wanted to lure a sheriff to the remote area.”

  “I’m glad to know it wasn’t an enemy of his, or of mine,” Lyle said. “And I’ve got enemies. But the killer wanted to kill Nick. And you?”

  “Yes. It’s still difficult for me to understand. Nick was trying to help a young man who called to do a ride-around. Hired killers often set up their victims. They want to be in control. They thrive on that.”

  “You be careful,” Lyle warned. “And I hope you find the killer soon.”

  “I want that, too. I’m just so sorry that Kirk was murdered, and Nick was shot.”

  “Is the undersheriff doing better?” Courtney asked.

  “He is. It will take a while to rehabilitate, but Nick’s tough,” Royce answered.

  Lyle’s eyes began to tear. “We’ve sent a contribution to the fund the town is taking up for him. If there’s anything else we can do, let us know. I can’t go back and be a better father, but maybe I can be a better citizen. I’ve decided to build a recreation center on the property, instead of the gambling project that the city opposed. I think it would have made Kirk happy.”

  “I’m sure it would have,” Royce squeezed his arm slightly. “It would be an excellent tribute to your son.”

  The couple walked toward the D.A.’s Office. Royce and Chance went back to her office. A sadness overwhelmed her. Both parents loved their son. They realized it more after his death. The sheriff examined her own feeling as a parent. She needed to make more time for her children. She vowed to do that.

  ***

  The sheriff had wanted to drop by to tell Gwen and Nadine about Lyle’s decision to back away from the gambling litigation against the city. That would make Gwen, the mayor of Timber City, very happy. Gwen preferred that no gambling be in Timber or Crystal. And was determined to continue fighting it.

  After a minor celebration of iced tea, Royce realized how long it had been since the three women had chatted. And how she missed sharing the moments of relaxation with them. But she had only been there ten minutes when the phone rang.

  Chris Wyatt’s call was put through immediately to Royce.

  “This is Wyatt,” the part time prospector’s voice sounded breathless. “You said to call if I ever saw a dark blue Dodge Challenger with a good-looking woman in it. Well, one just passed.”

  “On the highway?”

  “No, it turned and headed up the hill, past my cabin. Went toward the other cabins, but followed the road up to the hoity-toity area beyond that.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Royce hung up. “Wyatt called about a sighting of the woman.”

  “Where’s your backup?” Nadine asked.

  “I’m just going up the road.”

  “I’m going with you. Or telling your office on you.” Gwen grabbed her Western hat.

  Royce rushed to the door. “Come on, if I wait for my partner to find me, the woman will be in Kansas.”

  The two women, and Chance dashed to Royce’s vehicle. Royce drove rapidly to Wyatt’s property. “Royce, someone wants you dead. I’m danged glad I’m with you.” She huffed. “Just don’t stand too near me, in case the culprit shoots an errant bullet or two.”

  Royce grinned. “I thought you brought the arsenal.”

  “I’m in fine shape for being over sixty. And don’t you change subjects. I’m serious, I’m telling your mother.”

  Shaking her head, the sheriff exited her Interceptor. “Come on, Crusher.”

  Gwen grumbled as she followed Royce toward where Wyatt was s
luicing.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Wyatt said as he waved at her.

  “You said the car the woman was driving was a blue Dodge?”

  “Yep, and the woman looked right at me. But she was way too young, I think. I mean she had a head full of red-brown hair. But her face was definitely young. Kinda like a kid wearing makeup and sunglasses. But I swear she wasn’t much older than sixteen.”

  “Wyatt, can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I use your old truck for a few minutes to survey the area?” Royce explained, “If it is the woman we’re looking for, I don’t want to spook her and the guy.”

  Wyatt tossed his keys to Royce. Royce and Gwen got into the truck cab. “Hell’s bells, this truck is older than I am.”

  “Wyatt hauls his sluicing platform around in it. Okay, let’s check out the cabins and houses. See if we can locate the Dodge, or anything suspicious.” Both women surveyed the area thoroughly, and there was no trace of anything out of order. Nor was there a trace of the Dodge.

  “I see nothing at all out of place,” Gwen growled.

  “I’ll have a couple of deputies in unmarked car do a few swing throughs. Overnight they can also swing through.” Royce felt a huge disappointment. “Same MO. A disguise. But where did she disappear to?”

  Returning, Gwen complained about a waste of time. “Not a thing. Maybe Wyatt is having strange visions,” Gwen muttered. “Wasting police time.”

  “It wasn’t a waste of time, Gwen.”

  Royce stopped the old truck near her SUV.

  Royce gave the car keys back to Wyatt. “Thanks.”

  “Any sign of her?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m going to have the area patrolled for a couple days.” Royce got back in her vehicle. “Thanks for contacting us, Wyatt. And thank your buddy, Chuck - the terrific contractor, for checking in with Gran for me. Gran always makes him a list,” Royce stated as she grinned. “She won’t have anyone but Chuck for fixing her cabin.”