“Is that Jacob Boone out in the center of the lake?” Cal asked, pointing at the man.
“The one and only,” she said.
Cal and Kelly walked along the shoreline in an attempt to see where the boat that had since collected Boone out of the water was headed.
“It looks like it’s going to that dock over there,” Kelly said.
They hustled along the shore in order to meet the boat before it launched out into the lake again for more shenanigans.
As the boat neared the dock, Cal recognized Boone, who had taken over captaining while guzzling a cheap beer. Boone crushed the can with his hand and gave it to a bikini-clad woman. Her big smile indicated that she felt special just to be on board the boat with such a man.
“Think we’re going to get anything worthwhile out of Boone now?” Kelly asked.
Cal shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
He ambled along the dock with Kelly, stopping a few meters short of where Boone had his fellow boaters tie the vessel off.
“Mr. and Mrs. Murphy,” Boone said once he recognized the pair of visitors standing on the dock. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?”
“It’s a courtesy call,” Cal said.
“A courtesy call? What the heck are you talkin’ about? You know I don’t speak like you city folks.”
“I’m working on a story that I plan on running in the next few days, and I want to see if you care to comment on it before The Seattle Times publishes it.”
“What kind of story?” Boone asked.
Kelly flipped open her iPad and turned it around so Boone could see it.
“The kind of story that accompanies a photo like this,” she said.
Boone’s eyes widened. “And what kind of caption are you going to put with that? Hopefully not the kind that will get you sued, right?”
Cal pointed at the image. “If you won’t tell us what it’s all about, perhaps we’ll suggest some possibilities to readers. We’ve already got several sources on record telling us about a special arrangement you and Sheriff Sloan have. We’d just be reporting what these people said. We’d let the readers make up their own minds.”
“That’d be a big mistake then,” Boone said.
“Tell us what this is about then,” Cal said. “Set the record straight.”
“I did some body work for Sheriff Sloan on one of his cars. He always pays me at the race once I’ve finished getting his car in tip-top shape. It just so happened that he asked me to drive it this year too.”
“How convenient,” Kelly said.
“Look, if you don’t believe me, let’s go to my office. I’ll show you the receipt right now. But if you don’t want to see it, that’s your prerogative. But I’ll sue you into oblivion if you suggest that I’m doing anything illegal with the sheriff.”
“You mean like running moonshine for him?” Cal asked.
Boone chuckled. “Who told you that?”
Cal eyed Boone closely. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Are you running moonshine with the sheriff’s blessing?”
Boone shook his head. “This isn’t 1930 or 1950, even. There are far more sophisticated ways to run moonshine in the 21st Century … or so I’ve heard.”
“And this isn’t an activity you’ve been involved with, is it?” Cal said.
“Do you honestly think I’d tell you if I were involved?”
“That’s not a denial.”
“It’s not an admission either,” Boone said, throwing his hands in the air. “So, I like to drink and have fun at the lake. I’m a little wild sometimes. But I’m not involved in any illegal activity. That stopped a long time ago. A very long time ago.”
Cal continued to press Boone. “Did this illegal activity stop around the time of Susannah Sloan’s murder?”
Boone sighed. “Are you kiddin’ me?”
“Where were you when Susannah Sloan was killed?”
“I was at the Pirate’s Den, drinking with some of my former teammates off the Pickett County High football team. That’s it.”
“All night?”
“All night.”
Kelly leaned forward, hugging her iPad. “That’s not what we heard.”
Boone let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. You want to hear the truth? I’ll tell you the truth. Kill that story you’re about to write and meet me for dinner tonight at Curly’s around seven. I’ll tell you everything then.”
Cal and Kelly watched as Boone snatched a beer out of the cooler at the end of the dock before he jumped back into his boat.
“Let’s go, boys,” Boone said as he fired up the engine. “We’ve still got plenty of time to make some waves this afternoon.”
Boone whipped the boat around toward the center of the lake and pushed the throttle forward, sending the nose of the vessel into the air. A couple of the men on board let out wild yelps. Boone looked over his shoulder at Cal and Kelly, glaring at them.
“Glad we didn’t have any dinner plans,” Kelly said. “This ought to be interesting.”
CHAPTER 35
CAL AND KELLY DECIDED to stop by the Pickett County jail to see if they could chat with Drake. It was a long shot since visiting hours wouldn’t begin until Monday afternoon, but Cal was convinced they could talk their way into getting a few minutes with the city’s most famous native.
Sheriff Sloan was nowhere to be found, but one of his deputies, Mark Polson, stood watch on the late Sunday afternoon shift.
“Are you sure you can’t let us see him?” Kelly asked Deputy Polson.
Polson, who sat at a desk piled high with stacks of files, didn’t look up.
“No means no,” he muttered.
“Drake’s lawyer, Robert Sullivan, is on his way over here,” Cal said. “Wouldn’t you rather me run interference for you with that pompous jerk?”
Polson sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Just make sure you get me an autograph, will you?” he said, sliding Drake’s rookie card across the desk to Cal. “Sheriff Sloan would have my hide if he found out I asked Isaiah Drake for an autograph on anything but an official department form.”
“I’ll take care of that for you, Deputy,” Cal said, picking up the card from the desk.
“Thanks,” Polson said. “Follow me.” He led Cal and Kelly down a short corridor and then opened a door to an interrogation room. “Wait here while I go get him.”
A few minutes later, Polson reappeared with Drake in handcuffs.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Polson said before closing the door and exiting the room.
Drake slumped in a chair across the table from Cal and Kelly.
“What were you thinking?” Cal asked after some awkward silence.
Drake, who’d refused to look up, shook his head.
“I don’t know, man. I just knew that Sheriff Sloan was getting away with killing his daughter.”
“Do you still think that?” Kelly asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Sullivan is on his way over and should be here within the hour,” Cal said.
“On his way over? Where was he?”
“In Savannah,” Cal said.
“Playing golf with Hal Golden,” Kelly chimed in.
Drake looked up for the first time. “Hal Golden? The prosecutor for my trial?”
Cal nodded. “That’s the one.”
“I swear I’m gonna—”
“Just chill out,” Cal said. “Don’t take any physical action, but feel free to fire him. I think he may have been more of a detriment to your case than a help.”
Drake leaned forward in his chair. “How so?”
“Sullivan and Golden were buddies in law school.”
Drake cocked his head to one side. “Seriously?”
Cal nodded. “I wish it weren’t so, but I can’t help but feel like they struck some sort of deal on the side. And you got the brunt of it.”
“Man, I don’t even wanna know.”
“You should,” Kelly said, “because it’s the reason why you spent the last twelve years of your life on death row. It’s despicable, really.”
Cal flipped a page in his notebook and set his pen down.
“Okay, I need some real talk, right now,” he said.
“Shoot.”
“Who else can you think of who had a grudge against you and would wish harm on you … or want to frame you for murder?” Cal asked.
Drake sat still for a moment. It was as if he was unsure of what to say—or if he even had an answer. “I didn’t really have any enemies other than that lawyer from Jacksonville who was apparently trying to marry my fiancée right out from underneath my nose. But we never met.”
“What about Devontae Ray?” Kelly asked.
“The guy in the wheelchair?”
Cal nodded. “That’s the one.”
“You think he killed Susannah and tried to pin it on me? That’s hilarious, really.”
“I’m not ruling anything out at the moment,” Cal said. “I don’t care how absurd it might sound. We have to turn over every rock to get your name cleared.”
“Too late for that now after what I did to Sheriff Sloan.”
Cal sighed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I think most judges would have sympathy for you, especially if I testify on your behalf that you were sympathetic when I met with you.”
“That’d be mighty nice,” Drake said.
“I wouldn’t be doing it because it was mighty nice,” Cal said. “I’d be doing it because it was the truth, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t do the right thing.”
“I appreciate it, man.”
Kelly shifted in her seat. “Anyone else you can think of? Jacob Boone? Jordan Hayward? Tripp Sloan?”
Drake shook his head. “Why did you even bring up Devontae Ray?”
“Would he have something against you?” Cal asked.
“Maybe.”
“Such as . . . ?”
“Such as he hated Susannah for hitting him while he and his brother were riding on a motorcycle. Ray’s brother was driving, and he died on the scene. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, but I doubt it would’ve mattered. It was all an accident though.”
“Maybe that’s not how he saw it,” Kelly said.
“No, it was an accident. Susannah could’ve never done anything to stop it. Never.”
“But why try to pin the murder on you?” Cal asked.
“Because he didn’t want to go to prison himself.”
Cal shrugged. “That’s one explanation, but I think it’s a weak one. I think there’s more to this story.”
Drake rubbed his face with his hands.
“Maybe there is,” he said.
Cal scratched out a note on his pad. “Go on.”
“Devontae’s brother and I got busted for robbery when I was like fifteen. Devontae’s brother ended up going to prison for it. But I got away with a suspended sentence from Sheriff Sloan. I worked hard to make sure I never did anything like that again.”
“And that’d be enough for him to want to see you get locked up for the rest of your life or maybe even die?” Kelly asked.
Drake nodded. “It’s quite possible. It ended Devontae’s brother’s chances at attending Florida State on a football scholarship. It was the summer before classes started in the fall. I was going to be a rising sophomore that year, but not Devontae’s brother. He was going to be a senior, the kind who you listened to when he spoke.”
“But something happened?”
“Yeah, Drake’s brother went to prison while I escaped any semblance of a harsh sentence.”
Cal wrote furiously on his pad. “So, do you think there’s any possibility that Devontae Ray had anything to do with Susannah’s death that night … and your framing?”
Drake shook his head. “No way. The dude can’t even stand and walk on his own. He would’ve had to have hired someone to do this to me. And I don’t remember any group of people overwhelming me that night.”
Cal shrugged. “Maybe you were unconscious.”
“I only remember a single hit to the head but never saw anyone’s face.”
Cal and Kelly both nodded.
“I think we’re about to run out of time,” Cal said. “But if you think of anyone else, let me know now or forever hold your peace.”
“I’m drawing a blank,” Drake said. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to do that to me.”
Cal sighed. “The world has changed. It’s far more complex than it ever was from the good ole days. And right now, you’re in its cross hairs.”
CHAPTER 36
CAL AND KELLY SLIPPED into a booth at Curly’s Diner a few minutes before seven and waited for Jacob Boone. Curly brought them their sweet teas and told them he’d put in their usual orders. They both smiled and thanked him.
“Think he’s gonna show?” Kelly asked.
Cal sighed. “I hope so. We need answers and soon. If he doesn’t, I think he knows he’s going to be cast in a very bad light—and he’ll only have himself to blame for it.”
“Well, I can’t wait to get outta here and get back home,” Kelly said. “I miss Maddie.”
“You’re not the only one. Just one look at her face makes me forget about all the vile things in this world,” Cal said.
“Yeah, and I think it’s high time we start talking about a sister for her.”
Cal stared at Kelly. “A sister? Are you sure?”
Kelly nodded enthusiastically. “Come on, Cal. It’ll be fun.”
“We have vastly different definitions of fun. Functioning on a few hours of sleep each night between feedings and diaper changes is not my idea of fun.”
Kelly placed her hand on Cal’s. “But that stage doesn’t last forever. Besides, don’t you want another cute little bundle to hold and cuddle with?”
Cal shot her a look. He knew he was trapped. They’d discussed expanding their family in the past, but this time he felt like he was cornered with only one right answer. “I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about? You either want another little precious child or you don’t.”
“It’s not that easy, Kelly. You know that.”
“Maddie needs a sister. Maddie wants a sister.”
“Give me a few days. I can’t make a decision like this based solely on emotion, as enticing as it may sound.”
Kelly grinned. “I knew you’d come around.”
Cal scowled. “I’m thinking about it, not agreeing to anything.”
“You will,” she said.
Cal looked across the room and noticed Jacob Boone entering the diner.
“Look who’s here,” Cal said before muttering beneath his breath. “And not a minute too soon.”
Kelly playfully hit Cal on the arm. “I heard that.”
Cal motioned for Boone to join them, pointing toward the empty seat across from them in the booth.
Boone slid into his seat and interlocked his fingers on the table. “Before we begin, I want to apologize for how I acted earlier,” Boone said. “I wasn’t exactly myself.”
“No apologies necessary,” Cal said.
“Okay, fine. Let’s get to why we’re here.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Kelly chimed in.
Cal turned his digital recorder on and placed it in the center of the table. “This is all on the record, I trust.”
Boone nodded. “The truth is the truth. I’m not afraid of it.”
“So, let’s hear it. What happened on the night Susannah Sloan was murdered?”
“I wish I had more answers for you,” Boone began, “but I’ll tell you what I know and everything I saw. On that night, a bunch of us met down at The Pirate’s Den for some drinks. I thought it was just going to be a handful of us reliving the good ole days. But it turned into so much more.”
“How so?” Cal asked.
“We were all having fun, just talking about our
big upset over Ware County, which won the Class 4-A title that year, when all of a sudden the discussion abruptly ended.”
“What happened?” Kelly asked.
“Isaiah Drake got up from the table and stormed toward the front door.”
“Did you see anything that happened?” Cal asked.
“I saw some guy bump into Drake. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He looked at it for a few seconds before storming out of the bar.”
“Where did he go?”
Boone shrugged. “I wasn’t sure at first. But I got up and started to follow him out into the parking lot. When I got outside, I saw him getting into his car. Jordan Hayward ran after him. He got into his car and followed Drake.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I climbed into my truck—not my smartest decision of the evening—and went after both of them. I figured they might be going to Susannah Sloan’s house, so that’s where I drove.”
“Why did you think that?” Kelly inquired.
“I think I already mentioned this, but things seemed to be coming to a head with her. She had a full-fledged boyfriend lawyer in Jacksonville along with a couple of side guys.”
“Side guys?” Cal asked.
“You know, guys who she was hookin’ up with on the side.”
“And one of them was Jordan Hayward?” Cal asked.
Boone nodded. “That much was common knowledge, even as everyone in town hoped it wasn’t true. Everybody loved Susannah. She was the town sweetheart. But something happened at some point … either that, or there are a bunch of liars in town. Probably a little bit of both as it pertains to what was going on in Pickett.”
“What happened next?” Cal asked.
“I drove to Susannah’s house and parked a half a block away. I didn’t want to raise any suspicion that I was also one of her guys, not that anyone would think that after the way she destroyed my family in court, but more on that in a minute.”
“So you go inside and … ?”
“Yeah, I went inside and found Hayward and Drake in Susannah’s living room. I grabbed Hayward and told him it was time to leave.”
“Did Hayward leave?”
“Not at first, but I coaxed him into coming with me. It was clear from reading Drake’s body language that he wanted to be left alone and that Hayward was cramping his style.”
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