Changes Coming Down

by Kaje Harper

  “On it.”

  “How long to the next station.”

  “Um… Forty-eight minutes.”

  Casey thought about that. Once clear of town, the train might get up to sixty or sixty-five. You could beat it in a car, but not by a lot. “Deeter, grab a marked patrol car. Hit the road, lights and sirens, beat the train. I want you in the next station with a camera ready when the train pulls in. We need proof of this guy getting off the train with the bag in hand and walking off with it, before we bust him. Anything else and he can claim he was just moving it, or mistaken.”

  “Got it.”

  “It’s close quarters in here. I may not be able to watch him take the bag without getting spotted. If I have to shut the bathroom door till the passengers get off, I’ll tell you if the bag’s gone from the rack. If it’s still there, we repeat at the next station.” Although the odds of the blackmailer being cool enough to stay put and wait, with all that money sitting on an open luggage rack, were slim. Casey was betting it would go down at the first stop.

  “Do we know yet which son-of-a-bitch it is?”

  “Not yet. Plus it’s possible our blackmailer might have someone else onboard to grab the bag for him. Take pictures of everyone getting off this car. If the bag gets shifted during the trip, I’ll let you know.” The cars all connected, so that would drastically increase the chance of missing someone. “If you spot the bag, follow it. If you recognize a suspect and he doesn’t have the bag in hand, let me know. You follow him and I’ll catch up to the bag man. We’ll nail him when they meet up.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Odds are good we’ll lose phone contact along the way.” Cell towers got sparse out here between towns. “Use your common sense. I’ll call when I get service back. Should be solid when we get close to the next station.”

  “Do you want me to alert the local cops there?”

  Casey took a moment to think, braced against the sway of the train in that little bathroom. Backup was good, and jurisdiction favored the local guys. On the other hand, this could be complicated to explain and he didn’t want their guy scared off by a bunch of uniforms. Plus the guy might not get off next stop. “No. Are you in uniform?”

  “No, sir. I was going for blending in, if need be.”

  “Well, hopefully it’ll be a quick, clean bust and no one’s feathers will get ruffled. Move now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Meanwhile I’ve got a fun half hour hiding next to the toilet.”

  Ransome chuckled dutifully. Deeter didn’t bother.

  He debated sneaking up the stairs and trying to get a look at the passengers. Too risky. If the suspect saw him, the guy could simply not pick up the money, and there’d be nothing Casey could do. He’d know who it was, but there’d be no proof. Better to hang out here with the door cracked open to keep an eye on the bag, and close it if he saw someone coming too close. With luck, the other bathroom would stay clean and usable, and no one would notice if he hogged this one.

  Then he waited, eyeing his phone as the bars dropped from three, to two, to one. The conference call dropped out. Service went, came back, went. Then he had two bars again, though who knew how long. He gave in to the impulse to call Scott.

  “Casey? What?”

  He kept his voice low and his words banal. “Just touching base. I have a bit of downtime, bad phone connections. You okay?”

  “You’re the one hunting dangerous criminals. We’re still in Boston. Flight got held up by weather, which sucks. What’s happening?”

  “I’m following along. Waiting, boring stuff.” The line went dead, and he saw there were no bars again. Well, he’d said enough for the moment. Hopefully it’d help Scott feel less isolated. He put the phone away.

  The next forty minutes dragged. Three times he saw feet coming down the stairs, turning his way, and he pulled the door shut and threw the latch until the person went into the other john. Each time, when he checked the bag afterward, it was safe on the rack, and there hadn’t been time for it to be opened and emptied.

  Then the train began slowing and the first early bird came down to wrestle their luggage out. He had to keep the door shut, listening to the muffled sounds. A young couple chatted as they stood in the hallway outside his door, voices muffled but audible. He texted to Deeter,

  ~Coming in to the station. Get ready.

  The train stopped with a hiss and a jerk. He heard the door opening, people getting out. Tugging the knit cap out of his pocket, he pulled it low over his eyes, added the green hood up over it, and hurried out of the washroom as soon as the footsteps died away. The train door stood open. Half the luggage was gone, including the duffel.

  He hoped like hell Deeter had gotten pictures and had his eye on someone. He stepped off the train, looking up and down the platform. No one in sight had a fat, blue duffel bag. No one was running. Surely the guy couldn’t have gotten out of range yet. He turned toward the station and took a few fast strides.

  A figure caught his eye. The man had a large wheeled canvas bag, pulling it behind him. It wasn’t blue, but something about the guy’s back looked familiar. He was almost to the station door. Casey sped up, moving quietly. He had closed most of the gap when a large man got in his way, bumping into him with a loud, “Hey! Watch it!”

  The familiar guy glanced back, and Peterson’s eyes met Casey’s. The realtor dropped the handle of his bag and bolted. Casey cursed, shoved the complainer guy out of the way, and plunged after his suspect. Peterson made it in through the double doors of the station, out of Casey’s sight, ducking around a group of women. But Casey heard a scuffle, and when he could see past the group, Peterson was caught, struggling against Deeter’s firm grip on his arm.

  Deeter gave Casey a grin. “Got him, sir.”

  Casey took a deep breath. “Good man. Pat him down and read him his rights.” An audience was gathering.

  Deeter got cuffs on their suspect in an easy motion despite his struggles, and gave Casey a glance. “I’ll take care of him if you go get that bag he had.”

  Luckily, no one had stolen it. He snapped a couple of phone pictures of where Peterson had dropped it, tugged his sleeve down over his hand, and grabbed the handle below the grip to tow it into the station. When he reached Deeter, Peterson was standing still, but breathing hard. Two local cops had converged and in the gathered crowd was… Will?

  Casey managed not to say, What the fuck are you doing here? Just barely. He did say, “Will?”

  “Hey, Casey.”

  Deeter said, “He was at the station and suggested I bring him along. He said he had the GPS app for your phone on his. I wanted another pair of hands for my phone anyway, in case you called while I was doing ninety on the country road, and I wasn’t sure if you’d told any other deputies, or… wanted to?” His tone went hesitant.

  “Everyone’s gonna know.” Casey said firmly. He was out, no going back, no matter how it made his gut twist to think about that. Later. “But thanks.”

  Deeter flushed. “And I told him to stay in the cruiser.”

  Casey gave Will a glare he hoped said, “Later for you.” Will just shrugged.

  Right now, he had to focus on his suspect. “Did you read Peterson his rights?”

  “Yes, sir. Searched and Mirandized.”

  “This is a mistake,” Peterson said loudly. “I was taking a simple train trip. We wouldn’t want people to get all excited.” He stared hard at Casey and added with heavy emphasis, “Would we, Sheriff?”

  Casey said to Deeter, “The camera?”

  “Here.” He slid the strap off his neck and passed it over.

  Casey took a picture of the bag unopened, then slid the zipper down without touching the tab, taking two more pictures. Eased the sides open, and… Yes, score! The blue duffel bag rested inside the bigger one. He took one more picture. “Theft is illegal though, Mr. Peterson. So’s blackmail.”

  “I don’t know how that got in there.”

  “Right. Tell
your lawyer.”

  Peterson jerked against Deeter’s grip on his arm. “You arrest me and it all comes out. I’ll tell everyone about you.”

  Casey grinned, the one he’d used to scare guys, back in the Marines. They ought to move the interrogation somewhere private but Peterson was mouthy now, and he wasn’t asking for a lawyer. “Is that a threat?”

  Peterson glanced over his shoulder at Deeter, then back at Casey. “Some things are private, right?”

  “So you’re asking what? For me not to charge you with theft, in exchange for what?”

  “Now, Sheriff, that’s a cold way to put it. I’m thinking we can let this all go, and no harm done.”

  “Let it go? What about the bag you stole and hid? Why’d you take that?”

  Peterson forced a laugh. “This is incitement. Entrapment. All that money lying around? Anyone might have an impulse to grab that. Anyway, maybe I was taking it in to the lost and found to turn in. Did you ever think of that?”

  “You’d just turn in a bag full of money?”

  “Sure. I’m an honest guy. Any of my clients will tell you. That’s a lot of cash. I figured it should be put somewhere safe.”

  Casey bent over the bag and took two more close-ups of the duffel inside. Then he straightened. “One more question. How did you know there was money in this bag?”

  “Well, um, I looked. When it seemed abandoned.” A sheen of sweat beaded on Peterson’s forehead.

  “You looked inside?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Even though the twist ties I used to keep it shut are still in the exact same configuration as when I fastened them?”

  Peterson paled. “Maybe I felt the shape of it in there.”

  “Through a duffel bag?”

  “I don’t know! Look, Sheriff, do you really want to keep doing this? Because you know what’s going to happen.”

  “No, tell me.”

  Peterson hesitated. “I’m not saying anything more. You’re going to lose your job and then I’ll be walking free and you’ll be in the gutter.”

  “Walking free?” Will’s voice cut through the crowd murmur, sharper than Casey had ever heard from him. “What about murder?”

  “Murder?” Peterson stared at him. “What the hell?”

  “The Slaters. You killed them.”

  “I didn’t touch them. It was a hit-and-run. I was nowhere near there.”

  Casey debated between silencing Will and letting this play out. He saw Will had his phone out, probably recording. Kansas was a one-party-consent state and this was a public location, so that’d hold up as evidence. He decided to keep quiet.

  Will said, “You arranged it. So you could get the commission on the ranch sale.”

  “The fuck I did! I made nothing on that sale. After all that work lining up buyers, not one fucking cent! Landon owed me, and he stiffed me.”

  “What did Landon owe you?” Will asked.

  Peterson opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s not what you said. What did you and Landon do?”

  Peterson looked back and forth between Will and Casey. “Nothing like what you two did. I’m giving you guys a chance, here. Tell your buddy to work with me.”

  The crowd was getting bigger, and a bunch of them were filming on their phones. Time to end this. Casey decided to cut the innuendo crap. Maybe pushing Peterson off balance would get some conclusive phrase out of him. He said, “Hey, Deputy Deeter, who am I sleeping with?”

  Deeter, bless him, answered calmly, “I assume your boyfriend, Will Rice, sir.”

  Will burst out with a peal of laughter, high and a little manic, but real.

  Peterson glared at Will. “Fuck you, and fuck your money and your ranch and him.” Peterson pointed his chin at Casey and raised his voice loudly. “That faggot sheriff guy that you’re sleeping with? Fuck him too.”

  Will gave him a smile that was all teeth and said, “I do.”

  They got Peterson over to the cruiser for the long ride home. Casey hefted the bag into the trunk and signed the chain of evidence tag. Peterson was still telling everyone within earshot that Will and Casey were fucking fags, and Deeter threatened to gag him if he didn’t shut up, muscling Peterson into the back with a roughness Casey didn’t quite have to curb.

  Casey realized he didn’t have his truck and they’d all have to share the damned car. Given the choice between sitting in back with Peterson, or making Will do so, crowded in the cruiser, Casey chose door number three. “I’m going to rent a car and drive Will and me back,” he told Deeter. “I’ll debrief here and see you at the station. Keep our suspect safe.”

  “Yessir.”

  When the patrol car had pulled away, Casey spent time with the local cops, bringing them up to speed. Finally he turned to Will. “Come on.” The car rental was a block down the road from the station. A short negotiation and Casey’s credit card got them a midsized car with enough legroom for Will. Casey kept the keys and made Will take shotgun.

  They rode in silence half the way home. Casey bit his tongue and waited, and waited, for Will to speak first. The dark countryside beyond the window seemed to be fascinating to him, but at last he said, “Peterson. I hadn’t expected it to be him. He seemed like such a wuss.”

  “Blackmail is a coward’s crime.”

  “Do you think he could actually be the one who had Graham and Annmarie killed? Or him and Landon?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have the Bangor PD do the photo lineup with the truck driver again. Tell him one of these men is about to turn on him, if he doesn’t agree to testify first. See if he makes an identification then.”

  “I have a hard time believing Landon could even think of doing that. I know he was jealous of me, and he resented stuff Graham and Annmarie did or didn’t do when he was growing up, but they were his grandparents.”

  “Maybe he didn’t do anything. Maybe what Landon owed Peterson wasn’t related to the murder.”

  “I hope not. For the Slaters’ sake, I sure as hell hope not.”

  There was another long, silent stretch of driving. Then Will said, “Graham knew I was gay for months and never said a word.”

  “I guess they both knew. Maybe even longer than that.”

  “I wish I’d realized. Or believed that telling him could be all right.”

  Casey remembered how guarded Will had been three years ago. How closed off. One of the first things he’d ever said to them, even before discussing who was doing what, was, “I’m not out. I’m never gonna be out, not with where I live. It’s not an option.”

  Which brought his own situation to mind. He muttered, “And now everyone knows. We could just keep driving. Head to Canada. Make Scott take us in.”

  “Is it going to be bad? At the department?”

  “I hope not. Deeter and Ransome were fine. Mostly.” Although there had been that first step back. “The arrest should be a good distraction.”

  “Except for where the bastard tells everyone in earshot that you’re gay.”

  “He was kind of obsessed. Makes me wonder if he’s protesting too much.”

  “Ugh. No, I hope not.”

  Casey chuckled. “You and me both. I just wish he’d spilled the beans about the Slaters. We’ll see what he says when the DA starts talking real prison time for blackmail. Maybe she can offer him a deal in exchange for whatever he knows.”

  “If he knows anything.”

  “True.” He should’ve felt good about the success of the bust, but it wasn’t enough.

  He handed Will his phone and had Will record his own statement as a witness to Peterson’s arrest as they drove— it saved them from having to talk more about personal stuff. When they hit cell service, he guided Will into uploading the statement and his phone recording to the department’s evidence site. He swung by the ranch, pulling up in front of the barn. Don came out with a fork in hand, gave them a nod and went back inside.

  He told Will, “I
’ll get your statement printed up for you to sign and bring it home. Don’t wait up. This could be a late night.”

  “Of course I’ll wait up. Do you want me to call Scott now, or wait?”

  “Go ahead and call him. Tell him we’re fine.”

  “Are we? Are you, now everyone at the station is gonna know about us?”

  The way news spread, he was sure they already did. “Hell, yeah. No worries.” He gave Will a thump on the knee. “Go have a beer for me. I’ll see you later.”

  He was driving back down the road before he realized he could have kissed Will. Could have hugged him or any damned thing. Could’ve got some actual benefit out of being out. Although Will hadn’t told the ranch hands yet, so maybe it was good he’d waited on the PDAs.

  He opened the door to the stationhouse and strode in. He knew immediately that he was out to the whole department. Alanis eyed him sideways from her chair by the computer. The two deputies chatting by the cooler shut up immediately, pointedly not looking his way. Casey said, “Did Deeter get back with the suspect yet?”

  No one answered for a minute, then the men looked up from the cooler. Victor said, “Yeah. I guess.” His tone was pointedly insolent, sneering.

  Casey had a moment of panic. His first impulse was to let it go, to walk down the hall to the holding area and do his real job and ignore the way Victor and Northman eyed him. He could just finish out the case and go home. But if he let this attitude slide in a way he never would’ve before, it would prove he was less, for being gay. It would set the pattern forever after. He said sharply, “You mean, ‘Yes, sir, he did.’”

  Victor didn’t reply. Northman snorted, looked away and muttered something.

  “Speak up.” Casey took the three steps he needed to be up in their faces. “You have something to say to me? Say it to my face.”

  Victor didn’t meet his gaze, but Northman said, “Peterson’s been telling everyone in earshot that you’re ass-fucking that cowboy at the Tri-Cross. Deeter’s not making him shut up.”

  “What the hell business is it of yours who I fuck?” He was not going to deny it. Not. He wasn’t ashamed of loving Will, and it was far, far too late to put the genie back in the bottle. “I don’t know who you fuck and I don’t care.”