Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town

by Diana Anderson

  “Tell him it might be evidence in Virgil Neal’s murder.”

  Justin repeated what she’d said into the receiver. He listened a moment and then hung up. He looked up at Raven and said, “Down the hall, first door on the right. You can go right in.” He eyed the duffle bag. “You need any help with that?” He pushed his chair out from his desk.

  She hoisted the duffle bag strap over her shoulder. “No thanks. I got it this far.” She walked across the lobby and down the hallway to the door he’d indicated. She took a deep breath, opened it, and stepped inside. He didn’t look up as he sat at his desk finger pecking at the keyboard on his computer.

  As she covered the distance, she took in her surroundings. The FBI’s Ten Most Wanted poster was on the wall across the room from his desk. His office was well organized with tan filing cabinets. His desk was neat with the exception of a stack of manila folders and a folded newspaper. A near empty coffee mug with a Marine logo and USMC written on it was within arms reach of him. Open window blinds covered a large window behind his desk.

  She slid the strap off of her shoulder and dropped it on top of his desk. Dust flew off the canvas bag and into the air.

  His fingers stopped, and he eyed the bag. “What’s that?” He looked up at her and then his face registered surprise. “Raven? Raven Sawyer?” His bewilderment was more than evident.

  “Yes.” She looked at her shoulder where the duffle bag strap had been and brushed the dirt off of her. “Not that we’ll ever see each other again after today, but at least while I’m here, please don’t call me Agnes.”

  “You’ve had your name changed?” he asked, still perplexed.

  “So that’s how you become sheriff.” She thinned her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Very perceptive. And all the while I’d thought that your daddy had gotten you elected.”

  “My father had nothing to do with me getting elected.”

  “As I remember, Angus had his hand in everything.”

  He ran fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “Did you come here to talk about the elections?” He eyed the duffle bag.

  “I found this buried under the backside of the trailer when I went to retrieve the dog.” She motioned toward the bag. “It’s all yours to do with what you want.” She turned, walked toward the door, and reached for the doorknob.

  “What’s in it?”

  “Besides a few earthworms and dirt—money, lots of money. I didn’t count it. Don’t know if it’s real or not, but that’s for you to decide. I’ve done my civic duty. Goodbye, Sheriff.” She yanked open the door, hurried down the hallway, and into the lobby.

  As she walked by the deputy’s desk, he asked, “Are you Raven Sawyer, the author?”

  22

  Raven had taken the dog to the veterinarian and managed to get there right before they had locked up for the day. Of the many questions asked, the one that puzzled her, “What’s the dog’s name?” As she had looked down at the dog’s inquisitive bright blue eyes and his white coat, she pondered the question a moment and then answered, “Gabriel.”

  After he had been examined, tested for parasites, and given his shots, she’d thought she was ready to pay the bill and be gone, but was informed that the dog needed preventative treatment for fleas, ticks, and heartworms. The bill wasn’t out of her budget, but more than she’d considered and had left her to realize the expense of a pet. Well worth it, but she still planned to find him a good home and had written information about the dog along with her cell number on a slip of paper and had tacked it to their bulletin board.

  On the drive home, her thoughts went over Deputy Ledet’s discovery of her identity. She hadn’t wanted it to be revealed, and if and when she did, she hadn’t a clue how to handle it with the media and her fans. She had always hoped to remain faceless and her past hidden. But she had told him that she was an author and under the circumstances of her visit, she wished to keep that knowledge quiet. He’d said that he understood and would keep her secret in exchange for her autograph for his wife. Raven’s first, which she should have been flattered, but at that moment she had realized, with pen in hand, she had never practiced her signature for an autograph before and it felt awkward. The thought of fame had disturbed her. She’d had several years to prepare but hadn’t considered the possibility.

  She hoped that Virgil’s and Wanda’s bodies were released soon. She wanted and needed to be home. She felt that she’d already stayed way to long. She and her mother would come to blows if she stayed much longer.

  As a child, Raven had been obedient. As a teenager, she’d kept her mouth shut. She’d never made many friends at school, because kids had wanted her to sleep over and expected the same from her in return. She hadn’t wanted anyone to visit her home, because Virgil and Callie cussed and yelled either at her or each other. She had been embarrassed enough without one of her friends there to hear it. Over the years she had learned to tune it out, so much so, that she seldom had any idea why they were fighting. Since she’d never explained her situation to any of her schoolmates, by the time high school rolled around, kids had avoided her and had considered her strange.

  She parked her car in the Wallaces’ driveway, got out, and let the dog out. He followed her lead as she headed for the front door.

  “Are you planning to stay long?” asked a voice from the shadows along the side of the house.

  Raven stopped. A low rumble came from Gabriel’s throat, and his hackles rose. She gripped the leash tighter.

  “Shhh,” she said to the dog. She looked into the darkness and saw movement coming toward her. The dark shadow formed into a man as he stepped out into the late evening sun.

  She recognized him as the gardener. She tugged on the leash and walked toward the front door again. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you,” he said. “If you get bored, I might be able to help.”

  She stopped, stood still for a moment, and then turned on her heel. “Save it, handyman. I’ll never get that bored.”

  A low rumble came from Gabriel’s throat again. She tugged the leash and led him into the house. She closed the front door behind them, went through the foyer, and on into the den.

  A voice called out from her left, “Well, hello there, you two.”

  Gabriel looked in that direction. His tail wagged along with his backside. The nails on his front feet sounded like a hundred tiny tap dancers on the tiled floor. She reached down and unhooked his leash. He darted into the den and slid to a stop in front of Ted. Ted knelt down and ruffled his hair below his ears.

  “Well, look at you. Aren’t you the handsome fellow now? And smell good too.”

  Raven smiled. “I couldn’t believe he was the same dog. He had gone into the bathtub looking one way and came out looking another.”

  Ted looked up at her. “What’d the vet say?”

  “Gabriel’s healthy.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “Yes, his white coat and blue eyes remind me of an angel, so I named him Gabriel. Well, if there were such a thing as dog angels, he’d look like one. He’s had all of his shots, and the vet said he was good to go. I just hope I can find a family for him before I leave.”

  “He’s a very well mannered, good looking dog. Someone will want him.” He patted Gabriel’s head and stood up. “Have you had supper?”

  She shook her head.

  “I bet you skipped lunch too.”

  She gave him a crooked smile.

  “Well, come on, you two. I’ll fix y’all some supper.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I know how to cook.”

  “Well, then you can help me.” He walked ahead of them into the kitchen.

  He went straight to the refrigerator and took out a plate covered in plastic wrap. He uncovered it and slid it into the microwave.

  He glanced at her and chuckled. “Maggie saved you a plate. Sit.” He nodded toward the breakfast nook table.

  She sat down at the table.
He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and went to the pantry. He pulled out a large bag of dog food and tore the top open. He scooped a bowlful out and set it down beside the cabinet. He looked at Gabriel and made a smooching sound. The dog trotted over, smelled the food, and began to eat. Ted grabbed another bowl, and filled it with water, and then set it down beside the food dish. The microwave dinged. She started to get up.

  “Sit. I’ve got it.”

  “You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “Maybe I want to wait on you. I doubt you’ve ever had that privilege.”

  She eyed him a long moment not sure what he’d meant by that. He set her plate and eating utensils down on the table in front of her and then sat down across from her.

  She bowed her head, and closed her eyes for a few moments, and then forked a bite of green beans. She felt his eyes on her. She looked up and smiled at him.

  “You don’t have your mother’s eyes. I never met your father, so I’m assuming they’re like his.”

  She shook her head and swallowed. “No, I guess I got my eyes from a grandparent, but I wouldn’t know. I never got to meet any of them on either side. They all passed on before I was born.

  “Your hair … would it be rude of me to ask if it’s your natural color?”

  She covered her mouth and chuckled. “It’s okay. Yes, this is my natural color.”

  “He looked down at the table a moment and then back at her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosey. I just want to get to know you better before you leave.”

  She stirred her fork in her mashed potatoes. “I assume my mother hasn’t had too much to say about me.”

  His right eyebrow rose. He gave her a crooked smile and shook his head.

  23

  Cal woke up before dawn with his thoughts on the Neals’ case. Something was missing. Whatever it was he’d overlooked it somehow. The duffle bag of money, for one, didn’t make a lick of sense. Where did Virgil get it, and why had it been buried under the trailer?

  He threw back the covers, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. After he had showered, shaved, and dressed, he radioed dispatch where he was headed.

  The early morning sun had yet to rise, but the moon was full and bright when he stepped outside of his house. He got into his squad car, backed out of his driveway, and headed toward Main Street. He took a left and headed out of town. Eight miles down the highway, he turned right onto a black top road. One mile further and he made a left onto a dirt road.

  The gravel pinged when it hit the undercarriage of his squad car as he drove down the dirt road that led to the Neals’ and the Gentrys’ properties. A dust cloud trailed behind his car. The slight breeze carried it off to the east across pastures dotted with white faced red heifers and fields planted in long rows of cotton and soybeans. Within a mile of their properties, the fields and the pastures gave way to the timberlands.

  He slowed, pulled into the driveway, and parked near the front porch. He grabbed his flashlight, got out, and flipped it on. He made his way around the trailer and went to the back where the dog had been chained up. He squatted and shined the beam of the flashlight under the trailer. He scanned the area but didn’t see anything unusual.

  He stood and headed back around the house. He made his way to the front porch. The yellow tape had been pulled away. He shook his head.

  I told Agnes … Raven, she shouldn’t go inside. What was she thinking?

  He walked up the creaky steps and raised the flashlight to shine in through the front door window but something caught his eye. He looked down at the place where the padlock used to be.

  Why would she leave it unlocked?

  He stepped forward to open the door and bumped something with the toe of his boot. He looked down at the porch. The padlock was on one of the worn, sun bleached, wooden planks. He reached down and picked it up. The shackle had been cut in two. He stood up, laid it on the porch rail, removed his weapon, and then eased the door open. He scanned the living room with the flashlight. The room was still trashed and tossed about as it had been the day the Neals’ bodies had been discovered.

  He made his way through the kitchen and down the hallway. He searched each room. Nobody was there. He felt that whoever had cut the lock had been there for the evidence that was locked away in a safe at the sheriff’s office.

  He wandered around from room to room and looked for some clue. He hoped that someone had slipped up and left something behind, but he didn’t find anything that he hadn’t seen the first day of the investigation.

  He walked out the door. The early morning sun peeked over the horizon. He scanned the area in thought and looked up over the tree line. Several buzzards circled over the wooded area not far from the trailer. It could be any number of things they were eyeing for their next meal. Animals that had been wounded, whether by a vehicle or a hunter’s weapon, often wandered into the woods and died.

  He walked down the steps and headed toward his car. After he’d given much thought over the past few days, he decided it was time to pay a visit to the Gentrys’ place.

  He took his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped in the speed dial number. A few rings later it was answered.

  “Justin, get a couple of the deputies out to the Neals’ place. The padlock’s been cut and someone’s been inside. I want it gone over again from one end to the other. Also have them take a look under the trailer where that dog was chained up.”

  24

  Angus had been up most of the night. He couldn’t sleep. The dirt covered duffle bag he’d seen Agnes tote into the sheriff’s office had been on his mind. There could have been a number of things in that bag, but the size, shape, and color of the bag resembled the one he’d had in his closet that had gone missing. The bag was more than big enough to accommodate the money that bitch had stolen from him.

  But what was Agnes doing with it?

  From the way the bag had looked, she’d dug it up from somewhere. He had to find out, but how?

  He heard someone downstairs. He had long been showered and dressed. He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mavis stood at the counter, preparing coffee.

  “‘Bout damn time,” he grumbled.

  “If I had known you needed your coffee before dawn, I’d have set the timer before I left yesterday.” She walked over to the refrigerator. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “No. Just coffee.”

  She took out the cream and then closed the refrigerator. She grabbed a cup and saucer from the cabinet and turned toward him. “Would you like your coffee in the kitchen or dining room?”

  “Just fill my cup. I’m taking it outside to the patio.”

  She did as she was told and then handed it to him. He went out the French doors and sat down at the patio table nearest to the kitchen doors. His eyes wandered. He looked at nothing in particular as he continued in thought. He took a sip of his coffee and burnt the end of his tongue. He cursed under his breath. He blew across the hot liquid and brought it to his lips again. He didn’t take a sip. He set the cup down and reached inside the front pocket of his dress slacks and pulled out his cell phone. He located the number from his contacts and made the call.

  When the call was answered by a woman, he asked, “Is this Agnes?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind, I need to speak with Callie … uh, Mrs. Wallace.”

  “Sir, she’s not available to take your call right now. I’ll be glad to take a message. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “I know she’s there. She never gets out of bed this early. Tell her it’s very important.”

  “Sir—”

  “Tell her it’s an old friend of the family.”

  “Sir, I can’t awaken her without telling her who’s calling and the importance of this call.”

  “Rayburn. Tell her it’s Rayburn. She’ll take the call.”

  He heard a sigh at the other end. “Very well, I’ll see if she’ll take your call.”

&nbs
p; After several minutes, the phone rattled in his ear.

  “Cal?” Callie said in a breathless voice.

  “It’s me, Angus.”

  There was a moment of silence before she asked, “Angus? What in the world are you calling me for? Especially at this time of the morning, or at all for that matter?”

  “I need to ask you something about Agnes.”

  “Agnes? What would you want to know about Agnes?”

  “Did she mention anything about a duffle bag?”

  “A … what?”

  “A duffle bag?” His patience wore thinner by the minute.

  “What … duffle bag?”

  “Any duffle bag!” He cursed under his breath.

  “Did you just curse at me?”

  “No, not at you. Look, Callie, I need to know if you’ve seen her with a duffle bag and if she said where she got it.”

  “No … and no.”

  He closed his eyes in frustration.

  “What’s all the questions about a duffle bag?” she asked.

  “Never mind. Just do me a favor, will you?”

  “Why should I do you any kind of favor?”

  “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” He opened his eyes and glanced toward the French doors. Suzanne was in the kitchen with Mavis.

  “Okay. What?”

  “Ask her about a duffle bag,” he said in a hurry.

  “Won’t she want to know why I’m inquiring about a duffle bag? What am I supposed to say then?”

  He thought a moment. “Tell her the sheriff had asked you about it.”

  “The sheriff? Cal knows about this duffle bag?”

  “Yes, my son knows. Now will you just find out for me?”

  “Sure, but what does the duffle bag look like?”

  “It’s just a freakin’ duffle bag. I don’t know … it’s green and was covered in dirt. Okay?”

  “She waited a beat and then asked, “Does Cal have this duffle bag?”

  “Yes. Now as soon as you find out anything let me know.” He hung up.