Uncertain Calm (Uncertain Suspense Series Book 1)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  It dawned on me that she might not see well, but was too vain to get glasses. That may explain her heavily applied cosmetics.

  “You don’t seem too upset about his death.”

  “I barely knew him. I mean, if my mailman died, I’d feel bad, but I wouldn’t cry. Danny was the neighbor boy, not my friend. He came over to fix things and we talked sometimes. That’s it.”

  “According to his aunt, he came over a lot. And sometimes he was here for a long time.”

  Tina shook her head. “Not when I was home. That aunt of his is feeding you a line of bullshit.”

  I thought maybe Danny might be coming over to Tina’s when she wasn’t home. As her neighbor, he knew her schedule, if he was nosy enough. He’d know when she was gone. And maybe he’d known how to get in and out of the house.

  “Do you mind if I come in and take a look around?” I asked.

  At this, Tina opened her front door wide, and stepped back into her house. “Not without a warrant. Besides, I have to get back to work.”

  When she opened the door, I saw stuff. Piles of stuff. Not like the houses you see on Hoarders, but a pretty good start. An odor wafted that I hadn’t smelled earlier. I tried to place it. Maybe a cross between mildew, air freshener, and spoiled milk? Maybe it was better I didn’t go in.

  “I may be back. I’m going to check in with Eric. Don’t be surprised to see me with a warrant, Tina. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” I turned to go.

  In her little girl voice, she said, “I hope you find Danny’s killer. He was a good boy.”

  That was just it. He was a man, and still a boy. It was time to meet up with Wyatt, and see what he’d learned.

  CHAPTER 12

  I called in a Code 7, and met Wyatt at the dog park. I hadn’t seen Wally in ages, and Wyatt said he needed a good romp with the neighborhood dogs.

  For such a small town, Uncertain had three dog parks. We were a dog friendly city. I liked that, even though I didn’t have a dog. It was difficult enough to take care of horses, having a dog would be too much for me to handle. With the horses, I could turn them out in the pasture once we got some rain, and there actually was enough grass to have a real pasture. Or I could feed them a large round bale that would last a week or more. I had installed automatic waterers a couple of years ago, so even though they wouldn’t be getting their daily ration of grain and supplements, they’d be well fed and watered if something came up, and I needed to be away more than a day. Dogs were more difficult.

  Watching Wally, a red merle Australian Shepherd I’d given Wyatt, run and play made me smile. Almost like riding horses, it made me forget life’s troubles for a few minutes. I could see it in Wyatt’s eyes, too. There was a sparkle I rarely saw. We’d seen the worst of people in the years we’d been on the force.

  People don’t understand the job. I’d wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. I always talked about it. I was going to be a cop, and maybe work my way to detective someday. I sort of was a detective now, even though I was still in uniform, but I had a long way to go. I wanted to be one of the good guys. I had no idea how much I’d be dealing with the scum of the earth. I spend the better part of my time dealing with liars, druggies, and thieves. They’d just as soon lie as tell the truth, and would snitch out their parent, child or spouse to save their own ass. I’d learned to trust no one, and be wary of most.

  When I’m in uniform, it’s “yes, ma’am,” “no, ma’am,” and they wave with a smile. When I’m not in uniform, they don’t even acknowledge me. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t recognize me, or they don’t feel the need to be quite so polite when I’m off duty. Not that I give a shit.

  I think I married Wyatt because he was the only person I trusted implicitly. Do I trust him that way now? Not so much, but I still loved him. And I trusted him enough to work my cases with him. I also trusted his opinions, and his police work.

  I’d made myself a bologna and butter lettuce sandwich on pumpernickel bread, with Miracle Whip and Dijon mustard. I had two in my bag, and offered one to Wyatt. He declined, which secretly made me happy, because I was starving and wanted to eat both.

  We watched Wally romp and play without a care in the world. Between bites of sandwich, I asked Wyatt, “So, did you get anywhere?”

  “I’m still waiting on a call back from Geary.” He whistled, and Wally came running back to him.

  Wyatt threw a tennis ball, and Wally ran and jumped like a rabbit as he bounded after it, making sure to get to it before any other dog could intercept his toy.

  Special Agent Chris Geary had come into our lives when our former Chief Donovan had left. The DEA and FBI had been investigating our department, and had a man on the inside. Wyatt was on duty and happened to find the cop known as Sousa dead in his own home. Sousa had been planted by the feds. Geary had stayed in touch off and on, so Wyatt had called him in regard to the shooting. If I was the target the previous day, Geary might know something about what was going down.

  “Did you talk to him at all?” I was antsy. I needed to know which lead we needed to chase harder.

  “I did. He didn’t think anything big was going on here. Nothing bigger than the five and dime shit that’s always going down. The run of the mill drug hustles. As far as he knew, there weren’t any undercover deals in the area. He’s checking a few of his cartel connections to see if there’s been word on the streets. Something we’d never see coming.” Wyatt continued to toss the ball, and Wally continued to return with it. And each time it had more slobber.

  “This is good. At least I’m not responsible for the death of an innocent kid. As far as we know anyway.” I sucked in air and held it before blowing it out in a loud whoosh.

  Wyatt looked at me, finally taking his attention off the dog. “You okay?”

  I told him about Tina, her ex-husband, TBA Almond Growers, and how I had a better look at Danny’s life, but still no clue as to who might have killed him.

  “You aren’t going to talk to this Eric guy alone. Call him right now. We’ll go together.”

  I pulled the card out and keyed in the number.

  “What?” A gravely, irritated voice answered.

  “Eric Yaunt?”

  “Take my number off your calling list, asshole. This is a cell phone and I don’t appreciate your sales calls.”

  “Eric, this is Officer Harper Leigh, with the Uncertain Police Department.”

  A pause, then, “What the hell?”

  “Eric, I just wanted to know if you had time for me and my partner to stop by and chat with you for a bit.” I plastered a smile on my face, so hopefully it would come through in my voice.

  I’m not sure why I’d call in advance, and given him a heads up that we were coming, but I needed to know he was even around. If he ran, that would indicate guilt. In my book, anyway. If not for the murder of Danny Cabrera, for something. If he stuck around, then maybe he had nothing to hide.

  “Stop by where?” He chuckled. “I’m in Klamath Falls, Oregon, at the moment.”

  Holy mother of…

  I pressed the mute button. “He’s in Klamath Falls, Oregon.”

  “Well, shit,” Wyatt said. “Guess we won’t be having a talk with him today.”

  I pressed the mute button again. “Eric, how long have you been there?”

  “What’s it to you?” Defiance. “Did my ex-wife put you up to this?”

  Yes, and no. “She gave me your phone number, but I could have gotten it anyway. Can you tell me how long you’ve been in Oregon?”

  “Since last night,” he said slowly. “What the hell is going on?”

  Either Eric Yaunt was a good actor, or he truly had nothing to do with Danny’s death.

  “When will you be home?”

  “I have a load to pick up. If they don’t keep me waiting much longer, maybe by tomorrow morning. What is this all about? You’re starting to piss me off. I ain’t done nothing for the cops to be calling me.” The anger came through the line
as he raised his voice.

  I didn’t think it was a good idea to question him over the phone, but maybe I could get an idea of whether I was chasing my tail. “Do you know a Danny Cabrera?”

  “Who? Danny who?”

  “Danny Cabrera.”

  “Sounds like a wetback. I don’t know no wetbacks. But my wife lives in a neighborhood full of ‘em.” Nice guy, not racist at all.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Never heard of the guy.”

  “Were you visiting your wife yesterday morning, Eric?”

  The line went dead.

  “He hung up on me,” I said to Wyatt.

  “What was your general feeling about him?” Wyatt snapped the leash on Wally and we headed back to our cars.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “Other than that,” Wyatt rolled his eyes at me. He had his aviator sunglasses on, but I knew he did it, because I knew the look.

  “He seemed clueless. But when I asked him where he was yesterday morning, he hung up on me.” I thought for a second. “Do we have enough to get a warrant for his phone records?”

  “We can’t even put him in the same state yesterday morning.”

  We stood outside the fence of the dog park, enjoying the sun before the fog rolled back in. Wally sniffed around on the ground, hoping for something dirty to eat or roll in before getting in Wyatt’s car.

  “I’m stuck. I don’t even know where to go from here. The owner of the almond farm is going to bring Danny’s personnel record by the station later, and I’m going to go back and see if they’ve hacked Danny’s phone. Maybe we’ll get something from that.” I walked to my car.

  Wyatt yelled to me. “Dinner?”

  I shook my head and kept walking.

  I no sooner sat in my car, when I got a call on the radio, “Dispatch to 129, over.”

  “129,” I responded.

  “129, 10-19, 10-39”

  She needed me to return to the station. I had a package delivered.

  A smile spread across my face. Thomas. I responded back, “10-4”

  I wanted to ask if Thomas was still there, but it would seem unprofessional, and Wyatt would hear the radio call. I didn’t know if he’d hear the anticipation in my voice. I could only hope that if I hurried, I’d catch him before he got out of the parking lot.

  I couldn’t help myself. Thomas was handsome. Out of my league, and handsome. No wonder he made my toes curl and my head spin.

  “So out of your league,” Ochoa agreed.

  Damn him.

  On the way to the station, Wyatt called.

  “I checked Eric’s record. He’s got one hell of a temper. If you go to see him, don’t go alone. Assault, aggravated assault, domestic violence. He’s on parole. Did you run his record?”

  “Yep.” I had the phone on hands-free and listened through the car speakers. “I wasn’t going to go see him alone. I know protocol.”

  “I’m telling you, I’m going with you if you do. This guy beat another man with a tire iron. He spent seven years in prison, and is out on parole for the offense. I can’t believe he’s allowed to leave the state.”

  “Maybe he has a deal worked out with his parole officer for work. He did say his truck was being loaded.” I wasn’t sure what kind of deals were worked out with felons. Each one was a different case, depending on the offense.

  “This makes me think he’s not our guy,” Wyatt sounded disappointed.

  “I was thinking the same thing. He’s hands on. He wouldn’t shoot from a distance. He’d beat Danny to death with his own two hands.” I gripped the steering wheel tight, pissed off that my lead had just disintegrated.

  “I’ll wait to hear back from Geary, and you keep looking into Danny’s phone. There has to be something. I don’t imagine this was an accident. One of you two was the target. Gotta go.” He clicked off.

  That made me feel exactly the same as I’d felt since Danny had been shot. Like shit.

  On the bright side, there was a very shiny gold Range Rover in the parking lot of the police station when I arrived. But my heart sank, when I saw the reverse lights kick on.

  Luckily, I’m a patrol officer, and I could block him in with my vehicle, which I did. I parked behind his Range Rover, and got out. I walked up to the driver’s side and said, “License and registration, please.”

  Thank goodness Thomas had a sense of humor, and laughed. “I waited a while, but when you didn’t show up, I thought I’d better leave, or I’d look like a stalker.”

  He waited. Maybe he thought I was cute, too.

  “Are you? A stalker, I mean?” I blushed. I couldn’t believe I was flirting. When was the last time I’d flirted with a man?

  “Do you want me to be?” His grin could burn through pea soup and thick fog.

  “Maybe we could discuss it over dinner?” Where the hell did that come from? I was getting bold in my old age. But there it was, and I wasn’t taking it back.

  “I don’t know. Some people aren’t comfortable dating almond growers. We are sucking up all of the state’s water, you know.” He tapped the steering wheel with his long fingers.

  “If you can chance being seen with a cop, I’ll chance being seen with an almond grower.” I was so nervous, I sounded like a stupid schoolgirl.

  “How late are you working tonight?”

  “That’s a good question. I’m supposed to be off at seven, but I’m not sure that will happen. We work our own cases. It’s a small department, and we all wear lots of hats. I have a ton of paperwork to do, and I have Danny’s case.”

  “Is that an excuse?”

  I stammered, “Oh, no, gosh, no. I mean, I just…”

  “I’m kidding. I understand. I’ll be ready by eight. We can have dinner at my place, if that’s okay with you. Bring your gun, just in case.”

  “I’d planned to, no matter where we went,” I said. If that didn’t scare him, nothing would.

  “Good. Now give me your phone, and I’ll put my home address and cell phone in your contacts.”

  I bounced a little on the ball of my right foot as he entered the information. As much from nerves, as from having to pee like a racehorse.

  He handed back my phone, and said, “Red or white?”

  I assumed he was talking about wine, so I said, “Either.”

  I didn’t wait any longer. I turned and swiftly walked toward the station house. I was on the sidewalk, about fifteen feet away when I remembered I’d blocked his car in.

  CHAPTER 13

  The mortification of looking like an idiot, and being so excited about our encounter that I forgot I’d parked my car behind him was almost enough for me to send him a text and cancel our date. But I needed a life, and he was my first step. Or so I’d hoped.

  I picked up Danny’s personnel file at the front desk, and my cheeks must have been glowing. I think Thomas had me all giddy.

  We had nothing in common from what I’d seen so far, but that was okay, because I didn’t plan on him becoming my next husband, just my next lay. And I really needed to get laid. But not on the first date, I reminded myself. That would look really bad. Unless, I didn’t care if there was a second date.

  I remember my first serious boyfriend telling me, “Never have sex with a guy on the first date, he’ll never respect you.” Then he turned around and married a chick he met and screwed in the back seat of her Volkswagen on the first night. Whatever. I laughed every time I saw that woman, because I’m sure there are things she doesn’t know about her husband and me. And I’m talking about things that happened after they started dating.

  I looked through Danny’s file as I walked down the hallway. The electricity in the air sizzled with excitement. I looked up, thinking I’d missed something. The few people in uniform that were in the station, headed toward the main workstations, which was where I was going as soon as I grabbed a snack.

  By the time I got back to the main hub, the excitement had died down, but a dozen officers still gather
ed around the television in the corner of the room.

  Metty Legault’s attorney stood in front of the podium, with his arm around her. Metty wore the same trench coat she’d been wearing in our building only days before. She told the press she’d been to the morgue to claim her son’s body, and she wanted the world to know her son was not the bad guy, and neither were the police. I held my breath as I listened to what she had to say.

  “Bernie was not in his right mind, but it was by choice. He’d been off his medication for weeks. He’d been hiding his pills from me, and swearing he’d been taking them. Only after speaking to the police did I think to search his bedroom. Bernie didn’t even bother to flush the medication down the toilet. He put the pills in a fish bowl in his closet.”

  She looked to her attorney, then to the cameras. “So, you see, Bernie provoked the officers. No, they didn’t have to shoot and kill my only son, but they did. And they can’t take back what they did. I don’t fault Officers Ort—”

  “Mrs. Legault will not be taking any questions at this time. Suffice it to say, we expect the Uncertain Police Department will conduct a full investigation of this incident, and make their investigation, and its findings, available to us. At that time, we’ll make a decision as to how to proceed. We are not going to comment on an open investigation. But we’d appreciate it if you’d let the police do their work, and not further hinder their ability to do so. Thank you.” The attorney steered Metty away from the reporters, and back into the building which housed their office.

  “Holy crap, Ortega dodged that bullet,” Lieutenant Milton said, then added. “No pun intended.”

  No one laughed.

  I was counting my blessings she didn’t get far enough to mention my name, too. Sorry, that was selfish.

  The general chatter leaned toward unbelievability that an attorney would side with the police. I listened to a few comments, but decided it was a waste of time and energy, and Ortega was his own worst enemy at this point. I had work to do. I knew who killed Legault; what I needed to know was who killed Cabrera.