“But Shady Cove is more spread out; there’s more space in their downtown, so to speak. That makes a difference,” Casey pointed out.
“True,” Tess said. “It would be close quarters here in the Hollow.”
“And maybe a whole new Pandora’s box of problems,” Oliver added.
20
Oliver waited for Tess after the meeting ended, still concerned for her because of the fight with Carr. Together, they walked slowly out of the council chambers toward the PD.
“What will the sheriff do with Carr refusing to be fingerprinted?” Oliver asked.
“They have him in a holding cell. Until he’s booked, there’s no phone call, no bail, nothing. He’ll come around eventually if he wants to be processed and be able to call someone.”
She looked tired and stressed. His heart went out to her. She was strong, he knew that, but the incident with Carr had shaken her.
“Do you think he killed Tim?” They paused at the front of the station. It was eight o’clock and light was fading.
“I honestly don’t know. He makes sense as a suspect. It’s everything else that makes no sense. And somehow I doubt he’ll confess to me or anyone else. Thanks for walking me out.” She reached out and touched his forearm. “I’m fine, Oliver, just fine.”
He put his hand over hers. “You can tell me not to worry, you can tell me not to pray—I’ll do both. You’re my friend.”
She smiled and the stress melted away from her features. Oliver decided that he liked making her smile.
“Let me know when you find out about Carr. And call me if you need to talk about anything, okay? I’m a good listener.”
“I appreciate that.”
He crossed the street to go home. Oliver thought about Don Cherry and wondered if he knew what was up with Carr. Oliver would certainly ask when he had the chance. He recalled the conversation he’d had with Cherry about what he’d begun calling the pot problem. Since that first strange evening when he’d shown up out of the blue on Oliver’s porch, Cherry had been back again a few times, unannounced, appearing out of the shadows. That first night, Oliver felt he was being tested, as if Cherry wanted to see if he’d flinch.
“I killed a man,” he said.
“Is that what sent you to prison?”
He tilted his head and did not give a direct answer. “It wasn’t on purpose. He picked a fight with me. Wanted to show off for his girlfriend. I only hit him once, and he died.” He paused, pensive. “Can’t say I cared. But I hated prison.”
“You joined a gang in prison.” Oliver pointed to the tattoos all over Cherry’s arms.
“Had to. You don’t belong to something in prison, you get eaten alive.”
“Even a guy your size?”
“Always someone trying to prove themselves. Last thing I wanted to do was fight my way through prison. That only adds time to your sentence. And it’s dangerous. My dad was killed in a prison fight a month before I was born.”
“That must have been rough for you, growing up without him.”
“Life is rough, padre,” he said easily, but Oliver thought the nonchalance was feigned.
Cherry told Oliver a little about the prison chaplain he’d met, a man he seemed to have a lot of respect for.
“He didn’t take any guff, told it like it was.”
“What did he tell you?”
Cherry chuckled, but coming from him, it did not sound mirthful. “He told me a lot of Bible stories, said I reminded him of Samson.” His chuckle became a belly laugh as if that were a tremendous joke. “Imagine that, padre. Me a Bible character?”
He settled down and went on. “‘Everyone needs a Savior, Cherry.’” He wagged a finger in the air. “Lots of other stuff.”
He then went quiet and Oliver got the impression that he didn’t want to specify, so Oliver changed the subject.
“What do you do at the Hang Ten?”
“Whatever needs doing.”
“Like threatening old ladies into changing their minds about recreational pot?” For a second, Oliver thought he’d stepped over some unknown line.
Cherry glared. But then he broke out in laughter. “Aw, I don’t want to scare anyone—I just do.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. Scare anyone, I mean. Rogue’s Hollow is my town, and I like it peaceful.”
“Pot is a peacemaker, padre. People who get high don’t fight; they get the munchies. Maybe you need to consider the other side of the fence. The Bible don’t say, ‘Thou shall not smoke pot,’ does it?”
“Not specifically, but no good comes out of a drug that alters your thought process. Good life decisions require clear thinking.”
Cherry considered this. “Fair enough, padre. A lot of people in prison sure made bad life decisions.”
On a subsequent visit, Cherry seemed to want Oliver to know that he didn’t ever want to go back to prison, so he would toe the line, obey laws and such. While he didn’t want to hear about God and religion, he didn’t mind stories about characters in the Bible.
“A good story is a good story. The rest is not real to me, padre. Let’s stay with what we can see.”
“That’s a cop-out. You’re talking to me; my business is the spiritual health of my congregation. My guess is that you have questions about spiritual things.”
“I got lots of questions, but let’s keep our feet on the ground.”
Oliver felt there was something underneath all the banter and small talk. One thing being a pastor for so many years had taught him was patience. He’d keep praying and hoping Cherry would open up with what was really on his mind.
For a second, Oliver sucked in a breath. This was something he would have loved to mull over and discuss with his wife, Anna. She would have seen through Cherry, known what game the man was playing. And she would have known how to bring peace back to the Hollow. Generally, though he still felt the loss viciously, he did feel stronger with the passing of time. But issues like this one brought everything home again and stirred up the pain anew.
The ache was back, like a throbbing tooth. He missed Anna.
Sighing, he started up his porch steps, peering into the shadows, but there was no Don Cherry. He opened his door, thinking perhaps he’d bring up Don to Tess. The chief was a clear thinker like Anna. She’d look at Cherry’s visit from a law enforcement perspective. Oliver realized why he so enjoyed talking to Tess. She was the law, a perspective so different from Anna, who was grace. Oliver considered himself to be walking the line between the two. He missed Anna’s pure grace, but Tess’s pure law helped him almost as much.
21
By the time Tess opened her office for the day Friday morning, there was still no news about Carr. Drake Harper knocked on her door before her coffee finished brewing, asking her about the incident.
“Is he the one who killed my son?”
“Mr. Harper, that’s not why I arrested him. I don’t have any evidence that he killed your son.”
“He’s a troublemaker—I’ve heard that from more than one person. And he was at the party.”
“I’ve talked to him, and he denies hurting Tim.”
“Of course he’ll deny. It just doesn’t seem like anything is happening. My son is in his grave, for heaven’s sake.” He paced like a caged animal. “I want justice for Tim.”
“I promise you I’m doing everything in my power to find your son’s murderer.”
“Maybe you need to ask the sheriff for help.”
Tess worked to keep her face neutral. This request stung. You’re not doing your job.
“If it gets to a point where I think I need their help, I will ask.”
He looked at her, and she could tell he didn’t like her answer. “Sooner rather than later, I hope.” He turned and left her office.
Tess sat at her desk, frustrated. She had faith in herself and patience, but she understood Drake Harper’s impatience. Tess knew that the person who killed her father received instant justice—he was sho
t and killed by her father’s partner. It would have been unbearable if the perpetrator had escaped justice.
The phone rang. It was Steve. She answered.
“Wow, Tess, you sure can pick ’em.”
“What do you mean?”
“Eddie Carr, aka Edward Carrington. He’s got a no-bail warrant out of California for explosives and a no-bail federal warrant for murder and attempted murder of a DEA agent. No wonder he didn’t want to be fingerprinted.”
Tess leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, tension and disappointment dissipating. When her gut was right on, it was right on.
“When did they finally print him?”
“About twenty minutes ago. He wanted a phone call, and the only way he was going to get one was after we processed him. Don’t know who he called. But now he’s quiet. I think the Feds are going to come get him. They might even want to visit the Hang Ten.”
“I’d like to get in there.”
“Do you think Carr killed Harper?”
“Everyone is asking me that, and I don’t know. He’s not the only questionable character at the Hang Ten. Don Cherry did time for manslaughter. And I still haven’t figured out who the older guy at the party is.”
“Was Cherry at the party?”
“No.”
“Need any help with this case?”
Hearing that question again irritated her. “If I do, I’ll ask.”
Gratified by being right about Carr, feeling as if it was one win in her column, she went back to her board, thinking about the fact that Cherry wasn’t at the party. Tess was beginning to believe that Tim’s murder had nothing to do with the party. His mother was certain she’d heard his voice, that he made it home alive from the party. And because it was hard to imagine someone killed him at the party and then brought his dead body home and put him to bed, she felt it was safe to conclude he wasn’t killed at the party, but in his bedroom. Where was his bike? His clothes? His phone? What was she missing?
Her phone rang and she didn’t recognize the number. When she answered, she was pleasantly surprised. It was Phillip Whitman’s girlfriend calling back. She verified the coach’s alibi, telling Tess that he had arrived around 3 a.m. Tess checked off a box—the only two open ones were for Dustin Pelter and the unidentified man. She and her people had looked everywhere for Dustin with no success.
As for the unidentified man, Tess tried to get ahold of the lieutenant in charge of MADGE but had to leave a message, asking about any progress in identifying the man suspected of selling opioids.
The drugs still had to be the key.
Tess spent the balance of her day up at the Spot and working on Harper’s case, reviewing everything, searching culverts and wooded areas for Tim’s bike. It was hot, tiring work. On her way back to the station, she got a call from DEA Agent Ledge.
“I owe you one, Chief. Carrington was on my most wanted list. He killed a good agent and seriously hurt a good friend of mine. I had no idea he was still in the country. I’m sending Hemmings up there to interview the guy he worked for. What else can you tell me about that place?”
“Well, it’s a legally licensed pot farm.” Tess filled Ledge in about the Hang Ten. “Haywood keeps up on all the state requirements for a licensed producer. He has the appropriate signage; his workers were likewise properly licensed. Carrington wasn’t a pot worker. He’d hired on as security, so he did not need any state license.”
“Our intelligence said he was in the Sinaloa area of Mexico. He’s changed his appearance, doesn’t look anything like his current wanted poster. Thankfully, he didn’t have the discipline or the sense to keep his nose clean. If he had, he’d still be free.”
“That’s the truth. I saw the wheels turning. I knew he was going to resist,” Tess said. “But he waited too long to act, and I had good backup. I’d like to visit the farm with Hemmings when he comes.”
“Not a problem. Send me all you have on the pot workers.”
After hanging up with Ledge, Tess thought about planning her weekend. She still had to cover for Bender, who was due back Monday or Tuesday. If they were fully staffed, she could use the weekend to poke around for Dustin. It was a loose end she wanted to tie up. She whistled softly to herself as she entered the station and headed for her office. The normal working day would end soon, but Sheila was still at her desk. Her officers worked twelve-hour shifts, seven to seven; Sheila was an eight-hour-a-day worker.
“Hi, Sheila.”
“Afternoon, Chief. I’ll be heading out in a few. Need anything?”
“Not that I can think of, but thanks.”
Tess sat at her desk, found the paperwork Ledge needed, and sent it off. She then shuffled through some papers, wanting to be certain she didn’t forget anything that needed to be done. The clock was ticking on Harper, but she had nowhere to go with it until she heard back from the lab on the fingerprints. And there was an outside chance something would come up when she visited the pot farm.
Del Jeffers was the officer on duty today, and listening to the scanner, she’d heard him go out to a dispute at the trailer park.
Unable to resist patting herself on the back for catching Carrington, Tess signed a few requests, noted the training schedule, and hummed to herself. But abruptly the quiet in her office was shattered by a commotion in the lobby. A raised voice, eerily familiar but she couldn’t place it.
“I want to see the chief.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I don’t need an appointment; we’re old pals.”
“I still need to check with her—sir, you can’t go back there.”
Tess heard Sheila’s chair scrape the floor and stood as a man burst into her office, Sheila on his heels.
“Plotting how to deprive people of their rights, Chief?” He spit the last word out like a curse.
Tess fought to keep her face neutral. This was the last person in the world she expected to see.
Hector Connor-Ruiz.
22
He was a bit thinner than she remembered, and he sported a few days’ growth of beard, so he looked older, somewhat haggard. But the disdain and anger in his dark eyes was the same. The hate was the same.
Tess held a hand up, indicating Sheila could relax and go home. “Mr. Connor-Ruiz, there’s no need to walk over my secretary.”
“She’s trying to keep a taxpaying citizen from the chief, who’s supposed to be a public servant.”
A sick feeling started to form in Tess’s stomach, and the only lame response she could come up with was “You pay taxes in California, not Rogue’s Hollow.”
He puffed out his chest and grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “As of yesterday, I reside in Rogue’s Hollow. I partnered with Gaston at the Hang Ten. I plan to get an Oregon driver’s license ASAP.” He pointed at her with his phone. “You’re on notice. I’ve heard you brutalized one of Gaston’s employees yesterday. That’s gonna stop. Maybe you could pull the wool over everyone’s eyes in Long Beach, but no more. I’m watching you and everything you do.” As if to prove his point, he raised his phone and snapped her picture.
With that, he turned on his heel and stomped out of the office.
– – –
“He ruined my whole day.”
“I can tell.” Casey had stopped by. She’d stepped into the station mere minutes after Connor-Ruiz made his dramatic exit.
Tess groaned and let her forehead bang down on her desk. “Why?” she said into the desk.
“Why what?”
“Why would he follow me here?”
“If that’s the guy I read about, he focused on you and got you run out of Long Beach. Maybe he thinks you’re his lucky charm. You can weather this storm, Tess. I know you can.”
She sat up. “Thanks. And I’m sorry . . . all worried about me. What can I do for you?”
“I have something fun to suggest. We’re starting a classic movie night at church. Tonight is the inaugural potluck. My hubby made his famous mac and chee
se. I thought maybe you’d like to take a break, eat some good food, enjoy some fellowship and an entertaining movie. You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.” Tess almost declined the offer outright, but what did she have planned? Dinner alone and something on television?
“Do you like classic movies?”
“I love them. But I don’t have anything to bring to the potluck.”
Casey shrugged. “There’s always plenty of food. You can bring something next time.”
“What’s the movie?”
“Laura with Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews. It’s a murder mystery.” She grinned.
Anything to get my mind off Hector, Tess thought as she stood. “Okay, I’m in. Give me a minute to change.”
In the restroom that served as her and Becky Jonkey’s locker room, Tess squeezed her eyes closed, wishing she could disappear Hector back to Long Beach. She wanted to enjoy this movie night with Casey, she wanted to enjoy her life, but Connor-Ruiz had done exactly what she bet he wanted to. He’d messed with her head, thrown her off-balance.
Opening her eyes, she vowed to her reflection that she’d ignore all of his attacks and let them roll off her back.
23
Tess loved the movie. It was the first time she’d been in the church fellowship hall. She’d been in the sanctuary for Anna’s funeral and then, of course, Tim’s. There were about twenty-five people in attendance to eat dinner and watch the movie. Some of them she knew. Besides Casey and John Reno, Addie and Klaus Getz were there and even Officer Bender and his wife. Oliver was there as well. He made popcorn.
Gabe’s eyes had gone from black and purple to faded yellow-green as they healed.
“Be back next week,” he assured her.
It was a relaxing couple of hours. Tess hadn’t realized how much she needed to relax. The pleasant glow from the evening lasted until she got home and was alone with her own thoughts and the specter of Hector Connor-Ruiz returned.
Lethal Target Page 11