by A. E. Howe
“That’s sure the hell what it sounded like. I better hear from them soon.”
“Is that odd?”
“I’ve never called them in to investigate an internal matter. Usually, if you hear about them getting into a department’s business, it’s with a very heavy hand. But they’ve probably been involved for a while before it goes public.” I could tell that he was no more satisfied by the agents’ reactions than I was.
“We’ll give them a couple of days. If they haven’t gotten back to me by then…” He let the sentence trail off ominously.
On Wednesday I went about business as usual, trying to avoid Matt at all costs. Pete and I worked on a routine caseload of burglaries, robberies and assaults. Once I started digging, most of them were less exciting than the charges made them sound.
Dad called late in the afternoon. “I just heard from Maxwell. FDLE asked to be copied on all their reports pertaining to Nichols’s death.”
“So they’re doing something.”
“Exactly. They’re doing something. But mostly what they’re doing is leaving us hanging with a dangerous officer on duty,” he said. I could tell he was frustrated at having given up control of the situation. “If I don’t hear from them this afternoon, I’ll call them in the morning. I’ve got Johnson giving Matt the lowest priority cases.”
Pete and I were at lunch at Winston’s on Thursday when Dad called again.
“They told me to sit on it through the weekend. They’re reviewing all aspects of the case and will update me then, blah, blah, blah. Maybe I’m getting too old for this job. I should have brought Matt in myself and let the chips fall where they may. Whatever happened, at least he wouldn’t be a deputy in our county anymore.” This was the most depressed I’d heard Dad sound since my mother died.
“You know that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. You took the harder path, but it’s also the right path,” I said, trying to believe my own words. Pete looked up curiously from his cheeseburger. I shook my head, trying to indicate that this was nothing serious.
“I hear you. Monday. I’ll give them until Monday, but I’m not letting Matt carry around our star any longer than that.” We’d reached bedrock. After Monday, there’d be no talking Dad out of taking action.
“What time do I need to be at your place on Saturday?” I just wanted to change the subject.
“We have to be lined up for the parade by nine-thirty. I told Bob to have everyone there at nine. If you get to my place by seven-thirty, that’ll give us enough time to brush the horses down and get them in the trailer. Have you cleaned all your gear?” He was quick to slip into parent mode. I didn’t mind it today.
“Yes, father. I have my gear all cleaned and laid out.”
“Be on time,” he said and disconnected.
“Parade?” Pete asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m working the line,” Pete said, looking grim. He never liked squeezing into his uniform. But for one of the largest parades of the year, every deputy on duty would be working the streets. I realized Matt would also to be working in uniform that morning. The thought made me lose my appetite and I pushed my half-eaten chicken breast sandwich to the edge of the table.
I spent Thursday evening watching a movie at Cara’s. I don’t remember what it was. My mind kept dwelling on Matt, Nichols, Ayers, Conway and the rapes. And, yes, I told her that’s why I seemed preoccupied, and she was good with that. At least I was doing better with the relationship stuff.
Isaac Nichols’s funeral was on Friday. Dad wore his uniform, but not his dress uniform. Otherwise, he did his duty and managed to give a decent eulogy. The flag was presented to Nichols’s wife and children. Everyone was grim-faced, though some of us for reasons other than grief.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I was out the door Saturday morning by seven, thinking: It is way too damn cold for this. When I got to his house, Dad already had the horses in the crossties.
“You’re lucky. I washed them yesterday afternoon. All we need to do is brush ’em and wipe them down,” Dad told me as he headed for the tack room. “I hooked the trailer up last night and put everything in it.” I was pretty sure he was telling me all this so that I’d feel properly guilty for not thinking that I needed to come over last night and help him get ready. He really knew how to dish it out.
Mac looked as excited to be awake as I was. Dad tossed me a brush and I started grooming. Just as we were finishing, a car pulled into the driveway.
“Who’s that?”
“Jamie. I told you, he’s going to walk Mauser with the Sheriff’s Explorers,” Dad said.
I didn’t contradict him, but he’d never mentioned that Jamie and Mauser were going to be in the parade too. I would have warned the Explorers that they didn’t want to share the stage with Mauser. The big ham would get all the attention.
When I saw the lanky blond-haired kid, I remembered him from the Explorers. I thought if he let his hair grow out, he’d look just like Shaggy. Throw a little brown paint on Mauser and they’d be ready to ride in the Mystery Machine.
He greeted me with a wave and turned his attention to Dad. “I’m going to take Mauser for a short walk and then head out with him, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, he’s been out for his morning constitutional already and had breakfast. I had to drag his ass out of bed.”
Jamie nodded, turned and half jogged toward the house.
“Nice kid. Parents are a damn mess,” Dad said and untied Finn, who was his usual snorty self, always on alert. “We’ll load Finn on first and Mac will follow.”
I hated it when Dad acted like I’d never done something I’d done a dozen times before. Keeping my thoughts to myself, I untied Mac and loaded him up. Once the horses were in the trailer, we put on our dress uniforms and headed for town.
When we pulled up to the staging area in the shopping center parking lot, Bob Muller was already there with some of the posse. He told Dad that he expected about a dozen riders.
We took the horses out of the trailer and tied them up to the side.
“What are you looking at?” Dad asked. I realized I’d been staring at a spot in the parking lot.
“That’s where Ayers’s car was parked.”
“I remember.”
“I know now why it wasn’t parked,” I said, as much to myself as to Dad.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“That night I noticed that it wasn’t pulled into a parking space, even though the lines are very clear.”
“There wasn’t anyone else here. It was nighttime and the parking lot was empty.”
“Yes, but people usually park in the spaces even if there aren’t any other cars around. It’s a habit.”
“But he didn’t.”
“That’s right. You know the one time you don’t bother about how you park in a parking lot?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “When a deputy pulls you over. A driver just wants to stop the car and find out what he’s being stopped for.”
“You think Nichols pulled Ayers over.”
“Exactly. Nichols pulled him over and got him to get into his patrol car with some excuse, or by drawing his gun on him, and then he drove him around to the back of store.”
“Shame we’ll never get to prosecute Nichols,” he said sadly.
As I walked back to the truck to get my gun belt, my phone rang. I looked at the phone; it was Eddie. I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“What?” I asked brusquely.
“Bad, really bad. Right now.” He wasn’t making sense.
“Eddie, I don’t have time for this. I’ll call—”
“No! You have to listen to me!” he shouted.
“Okay, make it quick.”
“The parade. Something bad is going down. I don’t know everything, but it’s that bad cop.”
“What do you mean, it’s the bad cop?” I was trying to shout and whisper at the same time. I reall
y didn’t want to screw with Dad’s head this morning, especially since Eddie hadn’t contacted me in almost two weeks. Plus, he might just have been high. But what if he did know something?
“I heard them talking. Someone is going down at the parade.”
“You had better not be screwing around.”
“I’m clean, I’m sober. It might be your dad. Seriously. I’m scared.” He sounded scared. He also sounded sober.
“How do you know that it involves their deputy?”
“They said it. They said their guy had taken out their other guy and was going to get a big payoff for finishing the job this morning.”
I started to ask how and where he’d heard this, but decided that it didn’t matter. He’d never flat-out lied to me.
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“I told you I’d come through.”
“We’ll see, Eddie. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll get back to you.”
I hung up and looked over at Dad, who was talking to Bob. What should I tell him? I wondered. Nothing. It’s my informant and my problem to deal with. If I did it on my own, Dad could disavow all knowledge and toss me to the media wolves.
“Dad, I’ve got to run back to the office,” I told him as he put his saddle on Finn.
“You want me to unhook the trailer?”
“No, I’ll just borrow one of the other officers’ cars.” He gave me an odd look and opened his mouth to ask a question.
“Cara needs me to run an errand,” I said and he shut his mouth. Men are always willing to believe that women will make unreasonable demands.
“Well, hurry back,” he said grumpily.
I stepped into the back of the horse trailer for a minute where no one could see me and removed the small handgun, a subcompact 1911, from my ankle holster. I made sure the safety was on and slipped it into my pocket where it would be more accessible.
When I’d looked at a list of parade assignments, I’d made a point to see where Matt was going to be stationed along the parade route. At the time I thought I was just obsessing on him. Now I was glad I’d made a note of it. He was at a barricade on a cross street about two blocks from the shopping center.
I walked as fast as I could while trying not to look like I was in a hurry. A block away, I saw Matt standing near Deputy Edwards. I greeted both of them as I walked up. Edwards smiled broadly and said, “Howdy.” I got a subtle glower from Matt.
“Matt, is that your car?” I asked, pointing to the Toyota that I knew was his.
“Yeah.”
“The sheriff needs me to get his belt from the station. He was cleaning it yesterday and left it there. Would you drive me so I can go pick it up?”
Matt looked from me to Edwards. I could tell that he wanted to tell Edwards to do it, but couldn’t quite work out a good enough excuse.
“Let’s hurry,” he said, turning toward his car.
We didn’t talk on the way to the station.
“Go ahead and park it,” I told him when he pulled into the lot.
“How long are you going to be?”
“Dad wanted me to get some other things. I’ll need your help,” I told him, trying to give it just the right tone. Friendly, but not too friendly.
He parked, got out and was halfway to the front door before I caught up with him. Neither of us said anything to Sergeant Dill Kirby, who was working the front desk.
“He left the stuff in here,” I told Matt as I opened the interrogation room door. Apparently he smelled a rat and stopped short of the door.
“What—” He stopped when he saw the gun in my hand.
“Matt Greene, I’m holding you for questioning regarding the murder of Isaac Nichols.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I reached out and took his gun out of his holster while holding mine close and tight into him. If he’d moved, I would have shot him. “Get in the room.”
We stared at each other for a couple of moments. He looked around, but the office was deserted. With few other options, he went in the room.
Once in the room I handcuffed his arm to the desk and searched him for additional weapons.
“Let me make a phone call,” Matt said through clenched teeth.
“Not right now.” Who would he call? The Thompsons?
“You can’t arrest me. You have no evidence.”
“I’m holding you as a material witness. I’ll see about charges when I get back from the parade.”
I took all of his belongings and put them in an evidence bag and sealed it.
“Give me my phone, damn it!” he yelled, dramatically rattling his shackles.
“You’ll get you phone call when I get back from the parade,” I said, leaving the room.
I found the desk sergeant standing in the hall where he could watch the door to the interrogation room and the front door. I greeted him.
“What’s going on, Larry?” Kirby asked. He was the longest serving member of the Adams County Sheriff’s Office. Forty years and counting. Semi-retired now, he came in and worked the desk on his good days, particularly when we were strapped for manpower. His back was a bit bent and his balance not as good as it used to be, but his grip was still like a steel vice. He still had the power of the stare too. I’d seen punks wet themselves under pressure from his stare.
“I’m holding Matt Greene.”
“Holding him? For what? How long?” Kirby asked, not without a gleam in those powerful eyes.
“For the next couple of hours. With a little luck, I’ll be arresting him later. Right now, I’m going to move him to one of the holding cells. I don’t want you to let him near a phone. I’ll be back here as soon as the parade is over.”
This was a little tricky because Kirby technically outranked me, so he could overrule me if he thought I was making a mistake. But, as a rule, patrol followed the instructions of an investigator.
“If this goes south I don’t want you to get in trouble, so I’m putting this in writing.” And I did just that, making it a point that I was instructing Kirby that he could damage my investigation if he allowed Greene to have access to anyone from the outside until I returned.
“My pleasure. I never did like the stuck-up prick,” Kirby said.
I handed him the evidence bag with Matt’s belongings, then placed Matt in a holding cell.
“You’re an idiot. You and your father are going to regret this. Give me my damn phone and I’ll settle this right now.”
I made sure the door of his cell was locked and left him kicking the bars and cursing me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I made it back to the staging area as Dad finished saddling Mac.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, not giving me a chance to answer before he went to mount the excited Finn.
I had only a few qualms about not telling him what I’d done. I put on Mac’s bridle, telling myself I was protecting Dad from any fallout from the premature arrest.
Once mounted, I had a chance to look around. I saw Mauser and Jamie with the rest of the Sheriff’s Explorers. They were surrounded by the usual Mauser fan club. Jamie had his hands full controlling the monster dog while answering a million questions about how much Mauser weighed, what he ate and where he slept.
Dad rode up alongside me. “We’ll be up front with the departmental flags. Let’s ride with the flagbearers for a bit, get the horses used to the flapping noise.”
I tried to look over the crowd as we moved to the front of the posse. If you have to scout a crowd, there’s no better place to do it than from the back of a horse. Everything looked normal. Unfortunately, with the cool weather, everyone was wearing a coat, which made it impossible to tell if they were concealing a weapon. I realized that taking Matt out of the equation hadn’t eliminated all the threats. The Thompsons could get someone else if they noticed that Matt wasn’t here. I had to warn Dad. Or at least give him a heads-up.
“I got a warning from my CI that someone mi
ght try something during the parade.”
“Was it that vague?”
“Yes. There was a little more to it, but I took care of it.”
He shrugged, too distracted by the parade formation to press for details. “There’s always a risk of someone doing something stupid when you get a crowd of people together. Your CI was probably just stringing you along. I wouldn’t worry about, but thanks for the warning.”
Once the parade was lined up, I was pleased to see that we weren’t behind or in front of the fire engines. Two years ago I thought I’d permanently lost half my hearing from them blaring their horns every two minutes as the parade moved along. This year we had the high school band in front of us and the Sheriff’s Explorers behind. If I looked back past our riders, I could see Mauser weaving from right to left, making sure that everyone got a good look at him.
I heard the Grand Marshal’s starter gun go off and the front of the parade began to move. The wind was blowing enough to make all the flags flutter in high style as each group stepped off in turn.
The route was intelligently designed as a giant circle so that we’d end up where we started. There’d been a couple years where we would finish a mile-long parade only to have to walk back a mile to our cars and trailers.
Along the route we were shouted at by friends, and Dad received some encouragement in his reelection, as well as some catcalls from people who still thought he’d let a rapist loose. I waved to a grumpy-looking Pete, who was trying to keep a large group of kids from running into the street. A block later, I heard a shout and turned to see Cara waving at us.
We’d finished most of the route and were coming to the intersection where I’d picked up Matt. I looked ahead but couldn’t see Deputy Edwards. He was probably wondering where Matt had disappeared to. How am I going to handle Matt? How am I going to break the news to Dad? I couldn’t think of any good options.
Mac’s head jerked up, alerting me to the oddest thing. A tall woman was stumbling out of the crowd, shouting something I couldn’t quite make out.
“Wrong… Look… Run!” was all I could make out. She started waving her purse and coat in the air, causing Mac to shy away from her. We bumped into the other horses, who were equally spooked. Then a rifle shot cracked the air. The sheriff’s department flag fell down on Mac’s head, causing him to throw his neck around and dance erratically. I struggled to control him while looking for the shooter.