by Unknown
Winthrop backed up from the car. “Sheriff Daniels seldom left his office. When did you set this up?”
Taylor laughed. “A young sheriff is bound to bring in some modern ways. You can always revert back to the stone age after you win the election in January.” He smiled at the old deputy hoping to assure him that he was as naïve as they come.
Winthrop’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you’re not considerin’ stayin’ around here?”
“I’ve got no reason to. The people don’t trust me, you can’t get a decent drink, and there aren’t enough distractions around after work.” He cast a long glance towards Farrah. “Besides, I miss the ocean.” He watched Winthrop’s reaction to the way he looked at Farrah.
“That girl’s like a daughter to me.”
I was right. He wouldn’t hurt her. I doubt he’d let anyone hurt her or the boys. Taylor shook his head as if his mind had wandered. “What’s she doing?”
“It’s still hayin’ season. She’s been cutting grass all morning’. It’ll take a day or two for the grass to dry. Tomorrow, and probably the day after, she’ll go through it with a hay rake. Then she’ll gather it up with the round hay baler. I notice she’s cutting one field at a time. She’s probably plannin’ to cut another field tomorrow morning and so on. That way she get’s the afternoons to roll it and store it.”
Taylor inhaled the sweet scent of freshly cutgrass. “It smells nice.” He got out of his car and started heading toward Farrah.
“Where are you goin’, Sheriff?”
“The way I see it, I can either help out or get out, and since I’m all through with today’s paper work, I might as well help.”
He heard Winthrop laughing as Farrah handed him a pitchfork and directed him to clean out the stable.
It wasn’t long before Taylor got a message on his cell phone warning him that Deputy Jones was making a phone call. The GPS put him at the bridge and the phone he was calling was Farrah’s.
Taylor eased his way to the equipment shed. He heard Farrah saying, that as far as she knew, it was just some random break-in. There was no reason to ask her about the phone call. She’d be upset if she knew he was eavesdropping on her. But he would keep closer tabs on Jones and Edwards.
He ran up with Deputy Bowman. “Hey deputy, I’m a little out of my element here, and I was hoping you could help me.”
“Whatcha need?”
“Does anything seem off to you?”
“Are you referring to how Deputy Winthrop keeps looking for excuses to get me out of his hair?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Stuff like that. How long have you been with the Sheriff’s Department?”
“About two years, but they didn’t allow me out in the field until Flo showed up.” Bowman observed Farrah. “Why am I watching her? She doesn’t seem to need a babysitter.”
“Why did they make you wait two years before they let you patrol?”
“I assume it’s because my name is Carla and not Carl. Why did you order me to stay with her?”
Taylor started looking toward the house. “I didn’t.”
Bowman shifted her eyes from right to left. “That’s not what Winthrop told me.” Her mouth remained open from the last word she spoke.
Taylor took a deep breath. “This is Winthrop’s investigation, so I can’t override his orders. But I will say thanks for putting up with such an old school cop.
“Old school,” she huffed. “Nice way of saying he’s a jerk who thinks women should stay home and make babies, supper, and love.”
“I wouldn’t know, my mother was a teacher and could wield belt as well as my father.” Taylor thought about some of those whippings. “There’s nothing I can do here, and she doesn’t look like she’s ready to leave, so I’ll be back later.
Satisfied Bowman wasn’t involved in the drug ring, he drove back to town and headed to his office. “Flo, I would like to have a little talk please.”
“Same here.” She got up and followed him into his office. She shut the door hard enough to let him know she wasn’t happy with something. “Why is Farrah Mathews staying at your place?”
“What were two FDLE agents doing in a backwater like this?”
Flo stood directly in front of his desk. “You first.”
“Deputies Jones and Edwards ransacked her house last night. I don’t know if they found what they were looking for, but Deputy Winthrop asked for two days to complete his investigation. I’m the agent in charge of protecting her, so she’s staying in my spare room.”
Flo crossed her arms. “Why aren’t you watching her now?”
“Who says I’m not? I also have eyes on Jones and Edwards. Now it’s your turn. What were two FDLE agents doing here?”
“That’s strictly need-to-know,” she answered.
“Well, I need to know.”
“Once upon a time, the Suwannee River was a major trade route.” Flo sat down. “It starts out in the Okefenokee Swamp, near Largo, Georgia; flowing south-west, joining the Alapha and Withlacoochee rivers along the way.” She eased back in her chair. “A little further south, it joins with the Peacock and Santa Fe Rivers, before dumping into the Gulf of Mexico near a little town called Suwannee.”
“Yeah, but roads have been built since then,” Taylor said.
“And concentrated efforts on the part of various law enforcement agencies have been making it rather difficult for drug mules to move their product along those roads.
“However, who is going to question someone kayaking along a river and camping out in state parks?”
Flo inadvertently made Taylor realize, it’s not the people you watch who are always the bad guys. Sometimes, it’s the people you least suspect. He let her think he was just listening to her story.
“And Daniels was just smart enough to realize this.” Taylor smiled and shook his head. He looked Flo in the eyes. “And what spawned the FDLE’s initial investigation?”
“Daniels and his partners were using a relay-race system of transport. Along the river route are literally millions of places to hide small packages. Huge rocks, hollowed out trees, some small caves. The list goes on and on. One mule would drop a package off at a designated spot, and another would pick it up. They never used the same spot twice, and park rangers don’t pay attention to birdwatchers and hikers.”
Taylor leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk. “How did they get caught?”
“One of the mules slipped on some wet lime rock and broke his leg. He took a pretty hard fall and hit his head. He lost his memory for a few days,” Flo laughed. “The ranger called nine-one-one, and along with the medics came the Hamilton County Sheriff’s department.”
Taylor leaned back in his big leather chair. “Who naturally searched his back pack looking for emergency contacts and identification.”
“And found ten pounds of the purest coke you’ve ever seen.” Flo seemed close to smacking her lips. “The mule wasn’t from Hamilton County, so the case landed in our lap. We tried to roll him, but he only knew point A to point B. We sent in two undercover frat-boy types. We dressed them up real well too. Made sure everything about ‘em said we’ve got money, and we’re here to party.”
Taylor started clicking his ink pen with his thumb. “What went wrong?”
Flo bit the bottom of her lip and looked away. “The damn kids pushed too hard. Daniels got suspicious and ran their prints. Somebody was supposed to have their prints out of the system, but whoever it was, dropped the ball. The next thing we knew, they were gator bait.”
Taylor felt like a little kid listening to his grandfather’s adventure tales. He leaned forward to the point of standing. “Did they talk?”
Big black eyes looked into his face. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”
Taylor sat back down and stared at his desk. “And that’s the reason for all this need-to-know crap.”
“They were mine.” Tears swelled up in her eyes as her voice cracked. “I was supposed to be running interferenc
e in the office. But I was sick the day Daniels ran their prints. No one had any idea how smart and vicious the old bastard was.”
Taylor felt sick as he remembered the tape. She’d think it was strange if he didn’t keep pushing her. “And the Mathews saw what went down?”
“They were out there looking for a lost cow. Just two people minding their own business. The things they described-- The things you could hear on that tape--” She closed her eyes and cringed. Pain wretched her yellowish-brown face.
Taylor’s heart went out to her. “I swear to you, I will find those men and let you slap the cuffs on them yourself.”
“You just take care of that family. Those kids couldn’t endure half of what those agents went through.” Flo got up and headed to the door. “I better get back to my desk.”
Taylor followed her to the door. “Where’s the physical evidence?”
“Locked up in Tallahassee,” Flo answered.
“Get someone to overnight it here. I need to look at it.”
“What’s going on, Taylor?”
“Maybe nothing. But I need that evidence. I’ll sign whatever forms it takes just get it here by tomorrow.” He looked at the wall clock. “It’s late. I better get back to the farm.”
*
At his car, Taylor checked the phone surveillance on Edwards, Jones, and Winthrop. Winthrop called Jones twice that day. The conversations were a lot of talk about hunting and going on some kind of fishing expedition.
It seemed odd that three criminal masterminds would spend so much time talking about such trivial things. Unless hunting and fishing were euphemisms for something else.” Exhaustion muddled his mind. A hot shower and a soft bed would make things better. He hoped Farrah was ready to call it a day.
Taylor was starting to enjoy the scenic countryside. There wasn’t any of the pressure or fuss associated with driving in Miami. Nobody was blowing horns or dying from road rage. It was just a nice, little ride.
He pulled up next to Winthrop’s patrol car.
The deputy walked across the yard. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“Thought I’d drive around a bit. What was I supposed to do, sit out here and snooze all day long? Are you about done in there?”
“Tomorrow afternoon for sure. You getting tired of your little house guest already?”
“Well, I do have the next few days off, and she isn’t exactly conducive with a healthy social life.” Winthrop reminded him of an older, married version of Clancy. “You got any ideas where a man might look for a good time around here?”
Winthrop leaned against Taylor’s car. “There’s a place called Club Tropical. It’s a little past Hank’s Joint. If you dress right, you might do okay.”
Taylor studied the deputy. “How am I supposed to dress?”
Winthrop grinned. “Like you’re partying in Miami.”
“Thanks for the info. I’ll keep it in mind for another time.” Taylor got out of his car. “Let me see if my house guest is ready to leave.”
He found her in the barn replacing a broken board. He dismissed Deputy Bowman and walked over to Farrah. “Are you about ready to go?”
“It’ll be just a few more minutes.” She pressed her body against the two-by-four and attempted to hammer a nail into it. “Where did you go?”
The board slipped. She tacked a nail into the post to give the board something to rest on.
“I can help with that,” he said.
She placed the board on top of the nail. “I thought you didn’t like farm work.”
“I didn’t say that.” He looked at the slanting board. “It’s going to be crooked.”
She stood up, rubbing her back. “You got any suggestions, hot shot?”
“Yeah.” He held the board in place. “Accept help when it’s offered.”
Farrah nailed it to the post. “Thanks.”
“Are you ready to go now?”
“Just about. Mr. Winthrop was nice enough to allow me on my own back porch to retrieve a few packs of meat and put them in a cooler. “She went to a corner of the barn and picked up the cooler. “I thought we could grill out this afternoon.”
He took the cooler from her. “Isn’t grilling out more of a social event around here?”
“We’ll try not to have a good time, Sheriff Taylor.” She snatched the cooler back from him. “When are ya’ll going to realize, I’m not some little girl who needs to be looked after?”
They walked to his Bronco. “Can I open the hatch of my patrol car, or would that be considered offensive too?” Shit. He opened the trunk and grabbed his leather jacket which contained his FDLE identification.
“Nice jacket.” She heaved the cooler back of the SUV. “But isn’t it a little warm for that?”
“I don’t know.” He unlocked the passenger’s side and went to the driver’s side. “I thought I detected a slight chill, in the air when I offered my assistance to you.”
She slammed the tailgate and climbed in. “You know, for someone whose career depends on votes, you sure are rude.”
“Thankfully, my career doesn’t depend on votes. I’m just keeping the seat warm until the next election. Or have you forgotten?”
“More like, I don’t care.” She looked out the window. “Does your girlfriend find your behavior cute as you think it is?”
He smiled at her while she wasn’t looking. “You’re assuming I’m in a relationship.”
“So I take, it no one finds you as adorable as you think you are.” She cocked her head and raised her eyebrow. One corner of her mouth turned up.
He stared straight ahead weary of the comfortable way they interacted. Although they’d only formally met a few weeks ago, Taylor felt he’d known her his entire life. “Oh, I can be rather charming when the opportunity presents itself.”
Chapter 12
They entered the front half of Taylor’s home and Farrah set the cooler on the kitchen table. If it were possible, she thought the place looked more depressing than the day before.
Taylor unlocked the back door. “Shall I start the charcoal? Or will that upset your independent nature?”
“How old are you?” She proceeded to run cold water over the steaks.”
“Why?”
She hated the way her skin tingled when he looked at her.
“Are you developing a taste for good looking cops?” He grabbed a few potatoes, cut them up, and wrapped them in aluminum foil along with butter and salt and pepper.
Good looking didn’t begin to describe him. All day long she forced herself not to study the red highlights in his black hair when the sunlight hit his head. She wondered if his skin had been kissed by the sun, or did that color cover his entire body?
She noticed him when he first hit town. He was climbing out of a moving truck wearing cargo shorts and a yellow sleeveless shirt as she was coming out of the post office across the street. The shorts, although baggy around the legs, hugged his tight backside enough to keep her watching. She’d never let him know she thought like that. “I was just wondering when boys start growing up.”
“You tell me.” He opened the back door and grabbed the charcoal. “You’re the one dating a guy named Teddy Bear.”
She noticed the grill rack hanging from a nail on the wall. “Where’s your grill?”
“Back porch.” He opened the back door. “I’ll light it up.”
“I need a bowl and some meat seasoning.”
“Look for it. You’re Miss Independent.”
After a few minutes, she heard, “Swoosh”.
She came out with a few t-bone steaks. “I thought I was doing the grillin’.”
Taylor just huffed as he walked past her. “Have it your way.”
She watched him from the doorway.
He got out his blender and made some sort of frozen pineapple drink. She didn’t notice everything he stuck in the blender. Then he put a tossed salad together and set the table. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Ted was hopeless in the kitch
en.
He turned around sooner than she expected. “Enjoying the view, Miss Mathews?”
She growled and turned back to the grill. The steaks sizzled when they hit the hot grill.
Her mind wondered back to the previous night at Hank’s. They were having such a great time. Then the stupid band started playing a slow song. His hand felt hot against the small of her back. She wanted to keep that feeling. Why did I make him leave the dance floor?
*
Beautiful music filled the air. Farrah took the steaks off the grill and followed the beautiful sounds.
Taylor played a Spanish melody. Deft fingers caressed the steel strings bending them to his will. Forcing them to give into his every desire.
She watched as he seemed lost in his music. Expressions of pain and loneliness. Tears flowed from the notes. Her heart was aching from the pain, but she couldn’t stop listening. His eyes focused not across the room, but on something much further away. Another time, perhaps.
“Farrah.” He stopped playing and jumped as if coming back to the present. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.” Her face suddenly felt hot from the embarrassment of being caught spying on him. “Supper’s ready.”
He looked away. “Be right there.”
She sat down at the kitchen table and waited for him wondering if he was upset.
He approached her a little slower than normal.
“You’re pretty good on that thing.” She hoped he wouldn’t take it as anything but the compliment she meant it to be.
“Thanks.” He opened the refrigerator and retrieved the salad and punch. “And it’s not a thing, it’s my guitar.” He sat the salad on the table, then opened his cabinet and returned to the table with two glasses.
“No thanks. I don’t drink.”
“Suit yourself.” He poured the concoction into one of the tall glasses leaving the other one empty. “And for the record, I’m twenty-three. Not that it matters to you, since you’re completely in love with Teddy Bear.”