Tina shifted in her seat, angling toward him. “Carl’s a nice man. He’s about our age, originally from Florida. He works at Franklin’s Garage. Lives alone. He’s quiet and a little detached. It’s common with trauma survivors. Tender hearts hurt deeply, and we live in a world where growing tough skin is practically a survival requirement.”
“Could he have gotten himself into trouble? Maybe ticked off a homicidal maniac?”
Tina’s head was shaking before West stopped talking. “No. Carl’s a people-pleaser, but he’d avoid intimidating individuals.”
“Not every shooter is an intimidating individual. Look at school shooters and others who’ve committed similar crimes. They’re a lot of things, but dangerous-looking isn’t one of them.”
She glanced his way, then back at the road.
“Given that you are well aware of the profile for someone who’d pull a stunt like this, can you tell me unequivocally that neither Carl Morgan or Tucker Bixby fit the mold?”
“No, but I can tell you there isn’t a mold, and that the number of patients in therapy is far smaller than the number of folks who need it but aren’t getting it. There are probably a hundred people in Cade County who psychologically fit the bill that we don’t know about. So you have no hard evidence to support your theory that the shooter is connected to my group.”
West gripped the wheel tighter, unable to argue and unwilling to upset her further by playing devil’s advocate. The truth was, he had no idea what was going on in his county today. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Carl before we get there?”
“No. Just that he’s doing phenomenally in group, so please don’t upset him if you can help it. News of the shooting will be tough enough—badgering him could set his progress back, and I don’t want that.”
The country road rose and fell before them under a covering of gray clouds. Green reflections of little eyes blinked along the roadside, considering a test of their fate.
It was late in October and nearing lunchtime already. Barely six hours of sunlight remaining. West had enjoyed autumn as a kid, but he’d learned to see it as a hindrance after joining local law enforcement. Shorter days meant fewer hours to look for clues and missing people. It also gave criminals more time to hide under the cover of night.
Tina fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. “Where do you think the shooter is now? Do people like that just go home and have dinner? Do they kill themselves? Leave the state?”
“Depends.” West slowed the cruiser to a crawl at the end of a narrow dirt road. Peeling numbers on the battered mailbox suggested that they’d arrived. “This it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been here.”
West spun his wheel, navigating a sharp right into the unknown. No Trespassing signs were nailed to posts on either side of the road. A trailer stood fifty feet back, bookended by trees and a picnic table. An aged blue car sat in a bed of gravel out front.
“That’s his car,” Tina said, unbuckling her belt.
“Wait.” West stretched a hand across her middle like a guard gate. “It’s dark under all these clouds and trees. I want you to stay put until I give you a signal.”
“Why?” She dropped her voice to a low, ragged whisper. “Do you think the killer’s here?”
He gave the dark trailer another long inspection. “Not necessarily. There’s only one vehicle, and it’s not a pickup, but I’d rather be safe, so wait here until I give you an all clear. Understand?”
“Okay.”
He popped his door open and flashed her a warning look when the interior light came on. “I mean it this time.”
She made a show of fixing her hands on her lap.
West flipped his bright lights on and locked her in the car. The cruiser’s headlights illuminated a path to the trailer. West scanned the ground for signs of a struggle as he moved. Nothing unusual, no fallen items, drag marks or drops of blood. He stepped with care onto the makeshift wooden deck outside the front door, and a motion light snapped on.
West’s heart rate sprang into overdrive. He reseated his sidearm, unleashed on instinct at the unexpected flick of the light, and rapped on the trailer door. Surprisingly, the shock hadn’t increased his headache. The aspirin must’ve finally taken effect. He braced his free palm against the butt of his gun. “Cade County Sheriff, Mr. Morgan,” he boomed.
The trailer rocked slightly. Interior lights flashed on one by one from the back to the front. West moved away as the silver door swung open.
A heavy-lidded man in worn jeans and a faded blue T-shirt squinted at the cruiser’s lights. “Hello?”
“Over here, Mr. Morgan,” West said. “Do you know why I’m here?” He examined Carl slowly for signs of a weapon.
Carl blinked long and slow, scrubbing calloused hands over his thick brown hair. “Was there an accident on the road?”
“No, sir.” West took a more relaxed stance, but kept the distance. “You want to tell me why you aren’t at work?”
“I had a migraine.” He pressed a palm to one side of his head in evidence. “I’ve been in bed.”
“You get migraines often?”
“Sometimes.” Carl’s gaze drifted back to the cruiser. “Is someone else in there?” He shielded his eyes with one hand.
West ignored the question. “You’ve been home all morning?”
Carl dipped his chin, still preoccupied with the cruiser’s lights.
“Any visitors?”
“Not until you. Why? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“You missed your group session. Don’t you usually call ahead if you’re not coming?”
“I—I’ve never missed. I d-didn’t know I had to call.”
The stutter gave West pause. Tina’s words came back to mind. Much as he’d like to continue questioning Carl alone, he didn’t want to be the reason the man relapsed or whatever Tina had just warned might happen. He lifted a hand without taking his eyes off Carl and opened and shut his palm, beckoning Tina from her place of safety. He changed positions as she approached, putting the trailer’s wall at his back and everything else within his line of vision, peripheral or otherwise.
The passenger door opened, and Carl took a step backward, arm extended toward the trailer door.
“Stop,” West ordered, and both people froze. He motioned to Tina again, attention fixed on Carl. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Mr. Morgan.”
He didn’t have to guess when Tina came into focus for Carl. The man’s eyebrows stretched into his hairline, and his mouth dropped open. It was the reaction he expected most men had when they first saw her. Having been the onetime recipient of her rejection, West might’ve felt bad for the guy if there wasn’t a shooter in town with his sick mind set on Tina. As far as West was concerned, all men were suspects until proven otherwise.
Chapter Four
“Hi, Carl.” Tina spoke carefully as she climbed onto the wooden platform outside the trailer. Water dripped from the ragged awning stretched overhead, remnant drops from the recent storm. “I missed you at group today.”
Carl’s eyes darted between her, the headlights and the brooding sheriff at his side. “I—I’m a little surprised you felt the offense required an intervention by l-law enf-f-forcement.” His expression softened with the joke.
Tina smiled, thankful to see Carl at ease. She flicked West a meaningful look. “Maybe we can cut the spotlight.”
West leveled Carl with a no-nonsense expression before finally stepping away.
Carl moved closer to Tina the instant West abandoned his position as watchdog. “This isn’t really about me. Is it?”
“Not at all.” Tina shook her head, hoping to look less on edge than she felt.
“Are you okay?” Carl asked. “Did something happen to you? To Lily? Is there anything I can do? If you need a place to stay, I—
I have plenty of room.”
“No. Nothing like that, exactly. Something happened after group today, and we wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”
His mouth curved into a small smile. “You were worried about m-me?”
“Yeah.” Memories of the moments outside her office flashed back to mind, stinging her eyes and drying her mouth.
The blinding headlights extinguished, and Tina blinked several times to readjust her vision. “There was a shooting.”
West returned to them slowly, watching with careful cop eyes, one hand resting on the butt of his gun. Tina doubted that he missed much as town sheriff. He’d missed very little as a teen. She could only imagine his power of perception had grown keener with training and maturity.
Carl’s gaze traveled quizzically over Tina. “You weren’t hurt.”
“No. Not me.”
West shifted his weight, drawing Carl’s attention. “Another member of your group was murdered today. Steven Masters. How well did you know him?”
Tina narrowed her eyes on West. He could’ve been a little tactful about announcing a person’s death.
Something in his expression said he’d been intentionally harsh. Too much tightness in his jaw and rigidity in his stance. West didn’t trust Carl. Why?
Carl pointedly ignored him. “I only kn-kn-knew Steven from gr-gr-group.”
“You don’t seem too choked up,” West said.
“I guess I’m stun-stun-stunned.”
Cold wind whipped through the trees and rattled the tattered awning over their heads. West was right. Carl didn’t seem to care at all. She fell back a half step. Did it truly not matter to him that a man he knew was murdered, or hadn’t the shock registered yet?
Carl stepped closer, erasing the bit of distance she’d created. “Are you cold? Do you need a c-coat?”
“No. I’m fine. We’re here to check on you.”
“Yeah, but this must b-be awful for you.” He angled his back to West. “You and Steven were getting p-p-pretty close.”
“How so?” West asked, moving into the space at Tina’s side and blatantly hovering over her patient.
Carl stiffened. “They spent extra time together before and after sessions. She does that with new members.” He touched Tina’s sleeve gently. “If you n-need someone to talk to...”
Tina wrapped shaky arms around her center and attempted to stifle her recoil. How well did she know the members of her group? Could one of them truly be a killer? Could Carl? “Thank you. I’m sure this is something we’ll be talking about for months to come at our sessions.”
His eyebrows tented and he shoved both hands deep into his pockets. A flicker of something dark flashed in his eyes, and Carl’s suddenly heated expression fell on West. “I’m still not sure why you’re here. I wasn’t at group today, s-so I can’t give a statement.”
“Carl,” Tina started softly, “can you think of anyone who’d want to hurt Steven? The shooter only took one shot. I’ve seen the two of you talking before. Did he tell you about anyone who was upset or holding a grudge against him?”
“No.”
West sucked his teeth and continued to eyeball Carl. “Can anyone verify your whereabouts between seven and nine this morning?”
“No.” Carl grinned. “I’ve been here all day.” He opened his arms, as if to showcase the trees and silence around them.
“Is that right?” West asked. “My deputies tried calling. You didn’t answer.”
“I had a m-migraine. The ringer was off.”
Tina’s phone buzzed with Mary’s signature tone. She peeked at the incoming message. A photo of Lily wearing a fancy hat with feathers and the caption Playing dress up.
Her eyes teared at the sight of her daughter’s bright, toothless smile. The day had been too dark. She needed to cuddle Lily against her chest, inhale her sweet scent and feel her strong little heart beating against her own. Tina had told West that she wanted to visit both Carl and Tucker, but now she just wanted to be with her baby girl.
West pulled a buzzing phone from his pocket and barked a few monosyllables into the receiver, startling her from her thoughts.
“Carl—” Tina shot him a pleading look “—can you think of anything that might help us find the person who did this?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She nodded her acceptance. “I’ll arrange a new location for next week’s meeting while we all work through this loss. We’ll talk more then.”
West stretched his hand out to Carl, a business card stuck between his fingertips, cell phone put away. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Morgan.” He caught Tina’s hand in his. “If you think of anything that might be useful, give me a call.”
Carl fixed his attention on West’s hand over Tina’s. “Will d-do.”
Tina turned for the cruiser, thankful for the escape. She wasn’t cut out for questioning people as if they were criminals. And Carl’s response to her news wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It left her feeling confused and uneasy. She could only hope his apparent indifference was a result of shock and not something far more gruesome.
* * *
WEST KEPT HIS eyes on Carl as he closed the passenger door for Tina, shutting her safely inside. The fragile and uncertain man she’d described wasn’t the one who stood outside the trailer. His smooth transition between hostility toward West and concern for Tina set off all West’s internal alarms. Not to mention how precisely his behavior had mimicked the day’s crimes. A cold-blooded murder outside the medical complex, and a thoughtfully planned meal at Tina’s home.
West folded himself behind the wheel and radioed their position to Dispatch.
He reversed down the gravel drive and pulled onto the country road, making plans to run a thorough background check on Mr. Morgan.
“Was that phone call back at the trailer more bad news?” Tina asked. “Did something else happen?”
“No. That was one of my deputies. Mary and Lily are doing fine. He’s patrolling the neighborhood until you can get there, making a circuit and keeping watch on the streets around her home. If you don’t see him when you arrive to pick Lily up, wait for him. He’ll be back on his next loop, then he can follow you to your place and wait while you get Ducky.”
Tina nodded slowly. “Will the deputy stay with me until I decide where to go? How much time do I have to decide?”
“I asked him to process your home while he’s there, so you can take a minute to breathe, but limit the number of things you touch. I’m hoping he can get a good print from that dinner setup in the kitchen. My other men are finishing up at the medical complex, then following leads on the shooter and faded red pickup seen leaving the scene. Tucker Bixby wasn’t home when Cole got there, so Cole’s looking into his whereabouts. I imagine you’d like to get to your daughter now.”
Tina blew out a long, labored breath. “Yes. Very much.”
“I’ll take you back to your car now,” West said. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it her way.
She accepted the offering and pressed it to the corner of each eye. She twisted the thin white fabric in her hands. “I can’t believe you still carry this.”
“Grandpa’s handkerchief? We all do. I’m a little surprised you remember it.”
Tina rolled wide eyes in his direction. “I remember that funeral like it was my own grandfather’s. I remember each of your brothers with these hankies in their jacket pockets. Four brokenhearted pallbearers.” She balled the fabric in one hand. “Hundreds of people came that day and filled every moment with love and kindness.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “It was beautiful. He would’ve been so proud.”
“I’m sure he was.” West turned his face to the road. “Grandpa told us regularly how important it was to build relationships. He touched a lot of lives.” Next to his father, West’s grandfa
ther was the best man he’d ever known. His brothers and uncles came in a tight cluster for third. Love, pride and honor were always on tap at the Garrett house. “You okay?”
“I will be.”
He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I hate to push this, but I still need a formal statement. You promised to write it while we were en route, and we’re nearly back to your car.”
Tina pulled the notepad and pen from her purse and began to write. Tears fell in fat drops onto the page as she worked.
West kept his mouth shut as long as possible, but he hated seeing her cry. “How did you feel that interview with Carl went?” he asked. “Is he always so...” What was the word? She surely wouldn’t approve of creepy.
She wiped the wet paper with his hanky. “I don’t know.”
“Based on your description before we got there, I’d expected a television-grade nerd or a little harmless guy afraid to make eye contact.” Not the lean and borderline hostile man who’d answered the door.
“Whose fault is that?”
He ignored the question. West had heard it from her before, and the answer was always West’s. Making assumptions might not have been his best attribute, but as a sheriff the practice had proven indispensable more times than he could count. “Do you think he had a problem with you spending extra time with Steven?”
“No. That’s standard practice. Carl’s been with the group long enough to know that.”
“Do all the members have the same problems?”
Tina shot him a knowing look. She’d already made it clear she wouldn’t divulge her patients’ personal information. “They’re all dealing with PTSD and severe emotional trauma for various reasons. Some members are former military. Some are abuse survivors.”
“How did you spend the extra time you had with Steven?”
Tina sighed. “Occasionally I’d use the time to educate and encourage. Other times, he’d tell me things he wasn’t ready to share with the group. It was all very up-and-up.”
The Sheriff's Secret Page 4