Lethal Target

by Janice Cantore

  “I don’t know. I didn’t stay here last night. I was at the inn. He was here, like that, when I got home.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I called Steve to notify the sheriff’s department . . .” She turned as a vehicle pulled into the driveway. But it wasn’t Steve; it was a channel 10 news van.

  “Oh, man, who called them?” She’d not called 911, specifically wanting to avoid scanner-listening newspeople from getting the jump on the coroner.

  They were out of the van quickly. Tess stepped forward, but she was in jeans and a T-shirt. Bender was in uniform.

  “Chief!” The reporter hurried her way while the cameraman set up the shot. “We got a call that you shot a man on your porch. What happened?”

  “I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “But there’s a dead man on your porch!”

  “You’ll have to step back,” Gabe said, pointing back to their van. “This is a crime scene.”

  “It’s news!”

  Suddenly there was a channel 12 news van, and she and Gabe were in danger of losing control completely. It was only when two sheriff cars pulled up and four deputies stepped out that control was eventually regained, and even then, it was not without a fight.

  “Are you guys just going to cover this up? Cops protecting cops?” one of the newspeople called out. “We’ve heard a lot of allegations of misconduct in Rogue’s Hollow.”

  “There will be no cover-up.” A tall deputy Tess vaguely recognized spoke, holding up his hands. “But you all need to let us do our jobs.” Tess saw the stars on his collar and realized that he was the man selected as interim sheriff. Belcher was his name.

  Steve and another deputy moved the perimeter back, off Tess’s property, and forced the newspeople out of the driveway. Things began to calm down until another car screamed onto the scene.

  The blond head of Gaston Haywood was discernible as he came running up the drive, pushing past the deputy Steve had placed at the perimeter.

  “Is he dead?” He looked around at all the officers, gaze ultimately fixing on Tess. “She murdered him, didn’t she? He told me she would,” he howled, voice echoing in the warming late-morning sun. His pointed accusation cut Tess like sharp, cold shards of glass.

  35

  “She murdered him.”

  Everything tilted sideways in the next few minutes for Tess. The thorn in her side, the one person she’d contacted through work by whom she’d been personally damaged, a man she could say she hated, was the victim of a homicide on her porch.

  She watched as Logan, Bender, and Belcher dealt with Haywood. The surfer was hysterical. Tess wondered if he was high on something because his behavior was over-the-top. Even from a distance, she could see the news crews were eating it up. Suddenly Tess felt like no one was on her side. It was a jolt of fear, insecurity, self-doubt, reminiscent of what she felt after her shooting in Long Beach.

  But I didn’t shoot anyone today.

  Steve walked her way after they’d calmed Haywood down and sent him back to his car. Tess tried to relax. Steve wouldn’t think she was guilty, would he?

  “What happened here, Tess?” His brows were scrunched together, and his official tone tweaked her ever so much.

  She held her hands out. “I have no idea. I came home and found him here.”

  “Came home? Where were you?”

  “My friend Jeannie was here for the night; we stayed at the inn. My heat pump is dead. I’ve considered staying at the inn for a couple of days.”

  His thumbs hooked in his gun belt, he looked down, nodding as Tess spoke. Belcher was bent over, peering at the body of Hector Connor-Ruiz. He spoke to Bender as he did so, but Tess couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “This looks bad, Tess, real bad.”

  “Looks bad? You think I killed him?”

  He shook his head. “No, but other people will. You’ve made no secret of how you felt about the guy.”

  “Yeah, and everyone knew how he felt about me. But there’s no way I would kill him.”

  “Why was he here, on your property?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you had any contact with him recently?”

  Tess sighed in frustration. It was hard not to think about all the contact she’d had with the pest. “He was in the inn yesterday, when I was having lunch with Oliver.”

  “Was there a confrontation?”

  Something in his question made Tess cringe, like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard. “Is this an interrogation? Should I be read my rights?”

  “You know any competent investigator would ask that question.”

  “I’d think a friend would give me the benefit of the doubt.”

  He started to respond but stopped when Sheriff Belcher walked up.

  “Chief O’Rourke. Like I just told your officer, this is awkward.” The man was tall and pale and soft. He looked uncoordinated and uncomfortable in uniform.

  “Why would you say awkward?” Tess asked, feeling her confidence surge back with a healthy portion of anger and indignation. “Are you insinuating I had something to do with this?”

  Belcher shook his head, jowls jiggling as he did. “Chief, you would be the first to agree that an investigation needs to be impartial, that we, as law enforcement officers, need to follow the evidence where it leads us. You called us, after all. All I meant was that this scene looks bad. Officer Bender tells me this is the fellow I’ve heard scuttlebutt about. He and his relationship to you—”

  “I had no relationship with him. He had a sick obsession with me.”

  “Nonetheless, it compromises your ability to conduct an impartial investigation, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I agree it would be unseemly for me to investigate a crime that occurred on my property. But I won’t agree that I should be treated as a suspect. Like you said, I did call you in, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” Steve said, then turned to Belcher. “How about a compromise?” Belcher frowned but nodded for Steve to continue. He turned back to Tess. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here while we conduct our investigation.”

  As a cop, she could agree that he was right, but because of their prior relationship, his body language cut. He was treating her like a suspect, and Tess felt her face flush as a hot poker of betrayal sliced through her.

  36

  Oliver was technically off on Saturday, but seeing as how he lived on the church grounds, interruptions happened. Since Anna died, he was more amenable to stopping whatever he was doing and dealing with any and all interruptions. This Saturday he was out early to beat the heat, cutting back some bushes in front of the house when he heard footsteps. He turned to see Eva Harper walking his way.

  “Pastor Mac, I know I don’t have an appointment, but I needed to speak with you. Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course.” He set his clippers aside, gratified that she looked much better than she had the night of the city council meeting. That night she’d been in pieces, hurting for Tim and worried sick about her husband. It had been an emotional emergency. Oliver knew that losing a child often broke up a marriage, and he prayed he’d have the wisdom to help the Harpers and that they would survive.

  “I’m in a healthier place today.”

  “I can see that. Let’s sit on the porch.” He pointed to the two chairs on his porch, and they each took a seat.

  “I’m so worried about Drake. I can’t talk to him. He’s obsessed with finding Tim’s killer, and it’s eating him up.”

  “I heard about what he did at the council meeting.”

  “He’s furious with Chief O’Rourke. It’s been building with each day that passes. He thinks she passed judgment that first night and doesn’t care about Tim. I’m afraid . . .” Her voice broke.

  Oliver reached out and gripped her arm. “Take your time.”

  After a minute, she continued. “He can’t accept Tim’s death and move on. I barely can.”

  She paused and Oliver waited. When she spoke, her wo
rds came out in fits and spurts.

  “I fear he’ll do something crazy. But what this is doing to him hurts almost more than I can bear. It’s as if there is a thin line holding him together and any minute it will snap. I know that catching his killer will not bring my son back. I’ve lost Tim; I don’t want to lose my husband as well.” She looked at Oliver. “Can you talk to him, please?”

  “I’ll talk to him, sure, but he may not be ready to talk to me.”

  She blew her nose. “He’s on the edge. Maybe you can keep him from doing something stupid if he doesn’t realize that nothing, nothing at all, will ever bring our son back.” Her composure crumbled.

  Oliver held her hand while she cried softly. He understood their anguish and pain. Could even see himself exploding with anger like Drake. But Tess had caught Roger Marshall, Anna’s killer, right away. Did that defuse my anger? Oliver wondered for a moment.

  No, it wasn’t that. It was faith that God would deal with Marshall better and more thoroughly than I ever could. And he had years and years of his own messages to remind him to practice what he preached.

  Could he get that across to Drake?

  After Eva left, Oliver went inside and cleaned up. His plan was to go find Drake and see if he would talk. Everyone grieved differently; Oliver knew that well. Anger was perfectly normal, but in general, healthy people eventually moved to other stages, but always at their own pace. Drake might not be at a stage where he would want a conversation, but Oliver had to try.

  His phone rang as he was leaving. Surprised that the caller ID said Rogue’s Hollow Inn and Suites, he almost let it go to voice mail.

  But it could be an emergency.

  “Pastor Macpherson,” he announced after picking up the phone.

  “Oliver, we have a problem.” He recognized the voice of Addie Getz. That she’d wasted no time on pleasantries had him on edge immediately.

  “Addie, what’s up?”

  “There’s been a murder, and our chief of police is the prime suspect.”

  – – –

  Tess didn’t leave her property, but she got out of the way of the deputies and out of the view of the news cameras. There was a small decaying dock at the water’s edge on her property, and she’d dragged a camp chair down there. She sat, watching the water, the occasional drift boat, Tahiti, or raft, and simmered, wondering how long before the news guys thought to hop in a boat and catch a pic of her here.

  For some reason, she thought about her father’s courage card. She had it with her, something she couldn’t fathom. The words meant nothing to her, but it was something that her father had carried, held, and read often, and that gave her a modicum of comfort. But what in those words could help lift the cloud of suspicion that was dropping like an anvil on her head?

  Part of her wanted to rip the card up and throw it in the river. Trusting in God did nothing for her father; why should she expect that it would do anything for her? She pulled the card out, didn’t look at it, but turned it over and over in her hands as she stewed.

  Though she understood being excluded, it chafed, like shoes three sizes too small, that she was being kept on the wrong side of the tape. But the image of Hector dead on her steps was seared in her mind.

  Without touching the body, she’d done a cursory exam when she made the phone call to Bender and then to the sheriff. Hector had been shot in the head with a large-caliber bullet; the mess told her that. It looked as though he was coming off the porch when he was shot by someone coming toward him from the driveway. He wasn’t armed as far as she could see, but there was always a possibility he had a weapon under him. Or the shooter had removed it if one existed.

  Did he come looking for her, discover she wasn’t home, try to leave, and get shot?

  If so, who killed him, and why were they trying to frame her for it?

  37

  Oliver and Addie waded through a crowd of news reporters once they reached Tess’s home. He was astounded by the collection of news media. It was out of the ordinary for a town as small as Rogue’s Hollow.

  “Mayor Getz, did Rogue’s Hollow hire a rogue police chief?”

  “We heard that the dead man is the man who was accusing the chief of malfeasance—is that why she killed him?”

  Addie waved them all away, saying only, “No comment.”

  Oliver was thankful that Addie took her duties very seriously and was not inclined to pop off about anything until she had all the facts. In the back of his mind, he considered the contentious city council meeting he’d not been able to attend. He’d heard that people were calling for Tess’s badge. What will this incident do to those who’ve already lost confidence in her ability to lead?

  There were a few questions tossed Oliver’s way, but he barely heard them. His concern was only for Tess. What on earth had happened?

  The deputy who met them at the perimeter lifted the tape so they could duck under.

  Oliver saw Gabe Bender standing with two Jackson County sheriff’s deputies. He recognized one as Steve Logan, the other as the interim sheriff, Belcher. Tess had expressed confidence in him when he’d asked her about it; he prayed that her confidence was well-placed.

  Bender approached them. “Pastor Mac, Mayor Getz, glad you guys are here.”

  “What happened, Gabe?” Addie asked.

  He blew out a breath. “It’s a mess.” A faint outline of two black eyes was still visible on Gabe’s face.

  Oliver listened to him explain everything that he knew had happened up to that point.

  “Gaston Haywood claims to have a letter Hector wrote documenting when and where the chief threatened him. Sheriff Belcher sent a deputy to the Hang Ten to retrieve it.”

  “They can’t—you can’t—possibly believe Tess killed this man?” Oliver stared at Gabe, trying to read him. “She’s not capable of cold-blooded murder.”

  “Anyone, at any given time, is capable of anything.”

  They turned as Belcher walked up. Gabe made introductions.

  “Officer Bender explained to me that it is department policy you be notified, Mayor Getz, when shootings occur involving your officers.”

  “That’s correct.”

  Belcher glanced from Addie to Oliver and back. “I’m not sure what place a pastor has here.”

  “I trust Pastor Mac. I want him here.”

  Belcher pursed his lips. “As you wish. We have a dicey situation here. Chief O’Rourke claims to have found the body and to have had nothing to do with his death.”

  “I’m inclined to believe her,” Addie said, and Oliver wanted to hug her. He did not care for all the grim law enforcement faces surrounding him.

  “Well, be that as it may, we have to go where the evidence takes us. Right now, I’m hearing that Chief O’Rourke might have had a pretty strong motive to kill this man.”

  “If you think that, you’re wrong,” Oliver said. “I’ve known Tess as long as she’s been here, and I’m certain she couldn’t be a murderer.”

  “Pastor, I appreciate your observations, but as a law enforcement officer, I have to follow evidence.”

  “Are you placing her under arrest?” Addie asked.

  “No, not yet.”

  Oliver thought he heard a boom in the distance and realized it was the pounding of his heart. This man truly thought Tess was a killer.

  “I do think it’s best that we handle the investigation. It would shield us from accusations of a cover-up. And we have the resources to conduct a proper investigation.” His tone was condescending and it rubbed Oliver the wrong way. When Addie responded, he had to suppress a smile because the man had obviously irritated her as well.

  “I have no problem with you heading up the investigation, with Officer Bender’s help. I want him to keep me in the loop regarding all developments—is that understood?”

  “I have plenty of deputies—”

  “I wasn’t asking. This is my town. I want Officer Bender part of the investigation, period.”

  F
or a minute, they stared at one another.

  Belcher blinked. “Of course, that makes sense. However, I have a recommendation.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “For the time being, it might be wise if Chief O’Rourke were relieved of her duties.”

  “What?” Oliver couldn’t help himself.

  “In the interest of appearances, I think it would be best for now, until the investigation is concluded or she, at least, is cleared of all involvement.”

  “I’ll have to put that before the council.” Addie gave a wave of her hand. “Where is Tess now?”

  “Sitting down at the dock,” Steve Logan told them.

  Oliver looked at him. He’d been so quiet, Oliver wondered where he stood in all of this. He remembered asking Tess about the man yesterday. Logan had dated Tess for quite a while. Surely he didn’t believe Tess could murder anyone. But there was nothing he could read in the man’s face that gave him any comfort.

  – – –

  Oliver left Addie with Belcher so the sheriff could tell her about all they had observed so far. He wanted to talk to Tess, so he walked down to the dock where she sat. He thought about the claim Gaston Haywood had made. A letter Connor-Ruiz left, documenting threats Tess had made? Oliver knew in his heart that was impossible. Tess was not the type to threaten, and she was certainly not a killer. He reflected over the last year. He’d only seen evidence that she was a brave, compassionate, sometimes stubborn, maybe a little reckless, dedicated law enforcement professional.

  She turned as he approached, and he believed he saw relief cross her face before she tensed up and shut down.

  “How are you doing, Tess?” he asked.

  “I’m peachy.”

  Oliver knelt on one knee next to her, following her gaze to the river. “The truth will come out, Tess; it always does.”

  “I’m not exactly batting a thousand on discovering the truth lately. Half the town thinks I’m incompetent because I can’t solve Tim Harper’s murder, and now the other half will probably decide I’m a homicidal maniac because of this. Somebody sure wanted to make it look like I killed Hector.”