Days of Reckoning

by Chris Stout

  Just behind Miranda’s car came a small hatchback. “Who the hell is that?” Gutierrez asked.

  Sam studied the middle-aged woman who exited the hatchback. Her graying hair flew about her tear-streaked face in a tangled mass. “Wife. Who the fuck called her?” He looked at Gutierrez.

  “Shit. Sam, Henry’s divorced. I have no clue who that is.”

  “Girlfriend maybe. Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle her. You go get Miranda.”

  #

  Miranda already knew what the scene would look like before she arrived, but she had to give the impression of being there for the first time. She wondered how well she’d pull of the charade but didn’t have a chance to worry further when she saw the car that pulled in behind her. One look at the woman’s face was all she needed.

  “Shit. Wife.”

  She ignored Hector’s wave of greeting and hurried over to intercept the distraught woman before she could cause any harm.

  “Where happened to Henry?” the woman called out. “Where is he?”

  Miranda moved in front of her. “Ma’am? You have to come with me. I’ll take you to see him, but first you have to come with me.”

  The woman stopped abruptly. Her face registered confusion. “I don’t want to see him. Not if he’s dead. I just want to know what happened.”

  “Oh.” Miranda held out her hand. “Come with me. Please.”

  The woman took it. “Do you know who did this?”

  “I’m sure my partners have some good ideas. What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Gracie. Gracie Beaumont. Henry and I have been split up for about four years now. But it doesn’t mean he was a bad man. Why would anyone want to kill him?”

  “Gracie. My name’s Miranda. And I don’t know why anyone would want to kill Henry.” She looked around her shoulder. Sam and Hector stood still, watching her lead the widow obliquely away from the gun store. More importantly, they were out of earshot. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “But I think whoever killed your husband killed my brother too.”

  Gracie stopped in midstride. The confusion and grief on her face melted away and were replaced by a mix of shock and sympathy. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I can’t tell you right now. But I promise you, I’m working on finding them. And when I do, you’ll know it.”

  The coroner’s wagon pulled up to the store. Gracie shuddered. “Oh God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I can’t either. And I won’t lie to you. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. But finding the animals who did this will help. And to do that, I’ll need to ask you some questions. Alone. Away from the other officers.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t trust any of them.” Miranda stared directly at Sam and hoped that in his case at least, those last words wouldn’t prove to be true.

  #

  Back at the station, Sam sat leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk. He was dozing, dreaming of Tracy. She was telling him what a fool he was. All his detective skills and he couldn’t figure out that she was lonely, or that she needed a man to be there with her. And he was surprised she wanted someone new?

  “Feel like going back to school?” Wainwright asked with a half-smile from the doorway.

  Sam jumped a bit, the legs of his chair hitting the floor with a jarring smack. “Sorry, Chief. Must have drifted off there.”

  “Drifted my ass! Hell, you were snoring. You should go home and get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Just want to get some of this paperwork out of the way.”

  “Forget about it. I’ll take care of it, even if that is against the rules. Tomorrow, I want you to head down to the school and check out this Damon Shearer kid." Wainwright held up a folder that contained time cards and check stubs written out to Beaumont's employee. "No one’s been able to find him. I think he may be able to shed some light on the whole mystery.”

  “That’s what I planned on doing. And I think he’ll wrap the whole mystery up.”

  “Probably so,” Wainwright agreed. “Between his connection to the shop and the fact he can’t be found anywhere, I’d say he’s our best suspect. Any leads on where he might be?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll be going through Henry’s records, see if we can find an address on this guy. Not that he’ll probably be there. I think that looking for Damon Shearer at the school will be a waste of time. I think if he did this, he’s flown. But maybe I can find out where. His parents would be a good place to start.”

  “I’ll have Hector Gutierrez check his employment record, see if they’re listed as an emergency contact or anything. See if you can dig them up through the school. Miranda wants to come back for this case, so she’s going to go with you.”

  “You think she’s up for it?”

  “She did a good job with Beaumont’s wife today. And she’s got connections at the school. I think she’ll be useful. Keep an eye on her anyway, though. We’ll powwow together tomorrow afternoon and see what we’ve come up with.” Wainwright stretched and yawned. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here and get some rest.”

  Sam rose without argument. He hated leaving a case, especially a murder, to sit, but he knew he was exhausted. Exhausted people make mistakes, and that was one thing he did not want to do, especially given the fragile evidence they had in hand. He wanted to get this guy, but he wanted to do it right.

  Chapter 9

  For a change, Sam didn’t receive any phone calls from the Hamms. He was able to at least sit quietly, if not relax. He even managed to shave properly. His mind, however, was a whirlwind. He considered himself in the mirror. The face looking back at him was older than he remembered. Maybe that was the real reason Tracy has dumped him. It had been several years since his time in the Army. While he tried to keep fit, the rigors of police work were largely mental. He wasn’t fat, but the lean muscle that had encased him ten years ago had definitely softened a bit. Tracy had never been the deepest woman, but he still regretted that he was no longer as solidly built as he had been before.

  He took his mind off of Tracy for a moment and returned to the Beaumont case. He wondered why Miranda was so adamant about coming off of leave to get involved. He had mixed emotions about having her along, and not all of them related to the case. There was still that episode where he’d almost crossed the line. He’d have to watch himself. He smiled briefly. Tomorrow he would be out alone with her. Wouldn’t Tracy have a fit if she saw him with Miranda? It’d be nice to turn the tables.

  He sat down in his easy chair and began flipping through stations, deciding eventually on an old war movie. He drifted off to sleep, with the sounds of machine guns and bombs exploding periodically in his dreams.

  #

  The next day, Henry Beaumont’s murder was the lead story in the morning paper. Much was made of the fact that it took a full night before anyone found him, and that the crime scene was heavily tampered with before the police managed to arrive. The general feeling of the newspaper was that it had been a smash and grab robbery. No mention was made of the missing clerk. The paper reported that there were no suspects at this point. Sam knew that wouldn’t last forever. Word was bound to leak out about Damon Shearer. He hoped to have a better handle on where the young man was before the papers got involved.

  He and Miranda walked together on Sparta College’s campus. Sam noticed several young women smiling and casting glances his way. That worked wonders for his ego. Perhaps he had been a little harsh on himself the night before. They stopped by the admissions building and picked up a campus directory. Inside they found a listing for Damon in one of the residence halls.

  “Brown Hall, Room 302. Shall we go have a look?”

  Miranda nodded. She could have saved time by telling him about the unused room, but she wasn’t ready to reveal her own personal investigation just yet. “My Student I.D. can get us in if the doors are locked.”

&
nbsp; “That’ll be helpful. I’d hate to have to break them down.”

  Brown Hall was an all-male dormitory. Sam could tell that by the stench alone. Dirty laundry, rancid pizza and the smell of vomit emanating from the bathrooms combined to nearly make him gag. “That has got to be the worst thing I’ve ever smelled. Rotting bodies included,” Sam said. His stomach churned in protest.

  “Don’t remember what it was like living on campus?”

  “I never went,” Sam replied. “I did all of my work through classes in the Army. I admit our barracks weren’t wonderful, but at least we kept them clean.”

  “I see. Well, I should probably warn you that women’s dorms aren’t much better. I got stuck in one my first year, when I was still doing school full-time. God it was awful!”

  They reached the third level. Sam had his blazer opened and his right hand resting lightly on the grip of his Glock. “You should probably wait here, just in case,” he said.

  Miranda graced him with an innocent wide-eyed look. “Why, thank you gallant Sir Knight.” She briefly flashed him her own weapon. “I’ll watch your back, okay bud?” She waited by the stairwell while Sam went down the hall. Room 302 was the last door on the right.

  Sam sized it up. It was an old wooden door with a push button combination lock. If no one were home he would have trouble getting in. A search warrant was folded in his breast pocket, but the piece of paper would serve as a poor lock-pick. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He waited a few minutes, and then rapped again. Still nothing. He supposed that campus security would be able to get him in, but he was reluctant to advertise his presence too much.

  “Dude, can I help you?”

  Sam turned. A young man stood in a pair of sweat shorts and a muscle T-shirt. He looked to be an athlete, probably football or some other violent contact sport. Definitely not one to be taken lightly. Fortunately Miranda was standing behind the young man, smiling. He was there at her behest.

  “Yeah. Do you know the gentleman who lives here? Damon Shearer?”

  “Not really. The dude was here for orientation, a couple of times since, but I’ve never talked to him. Figure he had a girlfriend off-campus or something.” The young man scratched his head. “What you need him for?”

  Sam decided not to let out too much information. “A little disturbance a few nights ago. I’m with the Sparta Police Department, and I wanted to ask him a few questions.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure he ain’t here. I’m the Resident Assistant, so I try to keep an eye on where my people are. He hasn’t been in for weeks. If you need to check out his room, I can let you in.”

  Sam smiled. “That would be great.”

  “I have his combination on file. Just a second, I’ll be right back.” He went off to his own room.

  “Nice work,” Sam said.

  “I figured it’d be easier than breaking down the door. Those things are pretty solid, built back when people remembered that college kids are noisy.”

  “I don’t think people have forgotten that,” Sam replied. “They just decided it’s cheaper to call us instead.”

  The RA returned. “If it’s okay, I’ll punch it in for you. We’re really not supposed to give out combinations to anyone.”

  “Of course. If we need back in we’ll know where to come.”

  The RA used his body to cover the door while he punched in the access combination. Sam waited until he heard a click. “You’d better let me go first,” Sam said before the door was opened, “just in case.” He put a hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. When Miranda and the young man were clear of the door, he opened it wide.

  The room was painfully small. Sam looked around quickly. He’d seen closets with more space. Except for a cheap desk and chair and the standard college bed, there was nothing noteworthy. He pursed his lips in frustration. To his right was a closet. The doors were large enough that he supposed it would be possible for someone to hide inside. He pulled one of the doors opened and stepped away. No one was in there either. He sighed.

  The room was spotlessly clean. No cobwebs, dust or anything. “Does the university have a service that cleans these rooms?” he asked the RA. The student shook his head in reply. “Didn’t think so,” Sam said absently. He walked out of the room and closed the door, making sure the lock caught behind him. “Thanks for your help. Here’s my card. If Damon happens to show up, give me a call on my cell phone as soon as possible.”

  “Should I be worried about him or anything?”

  Sam weighed how much to tell the student. Damon’s name would be in the papers by morning anyway, so he said “I wouldn’t confront him if I were you. Call me from behind locked doors or something. But honestly, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about him showing up.”

  The RA didn’t seem convinced, but he took the card anyway. Miranda smiled at him sweetly, knowing that he had nothing to fear from Damon Shearer.

  Chapter 10

  Miranda and Sam sat across from each other at a small round table in a corner coffee shop just off campus. Miranda had some strange latte concoction; Sam’s coffee was plain and black. They each snacked on a glazed doughnut.

  Sam studied the young woman sitting across from him. Even though she had worked at the department for more than six months, he still didn’t know very much about her. It wasn’t that she was shy or withdrawn; she simply didn’t talk very much about herself. He always assumed that was due to her humble nature. She was smart and pretty, but didn’t flaunt it. Fairly simple, right? She sat with her elbows up on the table and her hands folded. Her cheek rested gently against her hands, and she gazed out the window of the coffee shop. She looked almost peaceful.

  “What are you thinking about?” Sam asked.

  Miranda smiled and turned her gaze on him. She showed no sign of being startled or interrupted from her reverie. “It’s a beautiful day out there. Perfect for hiking in the woods. And what’s running through your mind?”

  Sam was momentarily at a loss for words. “I was just wondering why somebody would go to the expense of paying to stay on campus and then never use the room.”

  “I guess he had better lodging elsewhere.”

  “Yeah, but he’s been there recently. Somebody cleaned that place up and down. When the campus police go in to take prints, I doubt they’ll find any but my own.”

  “I was wondering why you didn’t go through the drawers or anything.”

  Sam smiled. “Normally I would have. People are always leaving things behind in their homes. But I doubt there was ever much useful there. Everything’s gone. It’s a bare bed with no pillow, there’s no carpeting on the floor to pick up hairs, and if Damon was smart he probably never stored anything in the closet or any of the drawers.”

  “Sounds like he went to a lot of trouble then,” Miranda said. “I can’t imagine that the things he stole from the store were worth enough to justify spending money on a room he never used as well as another place to live.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have to pay for that other place. Maybe he didn’t have to pay for anything,” Sam countered.

  “If he wasn’t paying, then who was?” she asked.

  Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. Parents maybe. Or maybe he had an accomplice. Or a girlfriend might have put him up.”

  “If he has a girlfriend, maybe we should try to find her. She could either be hiding him, or be in very grave danger.”

  “For that matter, anyone who knows him could be in danger.”

  Miranda twirled her cup absently and nodded.

  “Maybe that was why Henry was shot. Just knowing Damon got him killed.”

  She fixed a narrow gaze on Sam. “I get the feeling you’re obliquely trying to make a point here.”

  Sam shrugged. “Maybe. More like I’m taking a few shots in the dark and hoping to hit something solid. He leaned forward. “Look, you’ve developed quite an interest in this case already, and you’re supposed to have taken a leave. And I know the days yo
u were off you didn’t sit at home doing nothing. If you’ve come up with anything at all that might be helpful, I’d really like to hear about it.”

  Miranda tilted her head from one side to the other, debating what would be enough to appease Sam without compromising her own position. “I think my brother knew Damon,” she admitted. “I went to my brother’s place and I could tell it’d been tossed over. So I tracked down the owner of his apartment. Wanna guess who that was?”

  Sam shook his head. “Tell me.”

  “Beaumont.”

  “Really.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So how does Damon factor in?”

  Miranda spread her hands. “I don't know.”

  “So, why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

  “I’m sorry Sam. Chief Wainwright essentially told me to back off and let things lie. So I’ve kind of been working under the table.”

  “Huh. He told me the same thing.” Sam rubbed his chin and stared into his coffee cup. “Think I may have to talk to him about that,” he said.

  Miranda stiffened. If Sam said anything to Wainwright about what she’d been doing, there was a good chance the Chief would realize that she was on to him. That could complicate things significantly. She wasn’t ready for that. There had to be some way to keep things quiet.

  Sam looked at his watch. “I’ve got an appointment to meet, and then I’ll be back at the station. Hector is trying to track down Damon through his work file. If you’re around later, maybe we can compare notes with him and see what kind of case we can present to the chief. I’d also say we’ve got good cause to be looking more closely at what happened to your brother.” He rose.