Billy tried to not feel like he was suddenly several years in the past, staring at the deceased Courtney Brooks in her car. But there he was, sitting in a conference room and feeling exactly as he had then.
Sad.
Guilty.
Angry.
If he had been alone, he would probably have thrown something. Instead, the best he could do was toss a few expletives in the direction of Deputy Dante Mills, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to take open frustration personally.
“They were at the abandoned drive-in theater out past the town limits,” Deputy Mills continued. “The owner of the gas station across the street saw their cars hadn’t moved in a while and decided to investigate with her husband. Neither had ID on them. As far as their status, it was unclear how bad the damage was, other than they needed medical attention ASAP.”
Billy had heard enough. He turned to Suzy, who rose at the same time.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he told her. Then to Matt, “And I want you to go to the theater grounds and look around. Talk to the gas station owner, too.” Billy turned to Dane Jones and a look of understanding passed between them. For his own personal reasons, Dane had taken himself out of the running for sheriff and, instead, applied for Captain of Investigative Bureau within the department after Rockwell had retired. He preferred fighting the good fight from behind a desk instead of out on the streets. Billy couldn’t blame him after what had happened to the man years before. Some cases just went south and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. That was a lesson Dane hadn’t let himself learn yet.
“I’ll finish up here and see what we can do to find this Beck person. See if we can’t connect some dots to Bernie Lutz, too,” Dane said. “I’ll even give Chief Hawser a call and see if he’s had anything come across his desk.”
Billy nodded. It was a good idea to go ahead and touch base with Carpenter’s police department. Although Billy was sheriff of Riker County, the town of Carpenter and the city of Kipsy had their own police departments and anything that happened within those municipalities was their jurisdiction. Bernie’s body and the overdoses had been found just outside the town limits, which meant Billy was running the show. But he didn’t have an ego too big to not have an open dialogue with the local PD. He happened to be a fan of Chief Hawser, too.
Billy finally looked at Mara. Her expression was pinched and worn at the same time. He assumed the news had put her on the line between the present and the past, just as it had him, anger and guilt both squarely on her shoulders. He wanted to go to her, even took a small step forward, but caught himself.
“The sketch artist should be here soon,” Billy said. “You can wait in my office if he takes too long.”
Mara’s jaw tightened.
“As long as you figure out who’s doing this,” she said.
“Believe me. I will.”
Suzy wordlessly followed him to the parking lot and into his Tahoe as the rest of the department went on with their tasks. She kept quiet as he pulled away from the department and got on the main road that would lead them to Carpenter’s hospital. However, no sooner had they passed the first intersection when Suzy asked the one question Billy knew she would.
“Is Alexa yours?”
Billy had already resigned himself to following whatever lead Mara wanted to take about telling the department who the father was. But she hadn’t expressed herself one way or the other.
“Yes,” he answered, surprising himself. “I just found out last night.”
He cast a look over at his friend. Suzy, a mother herself, didn’t seem to pass any judgment either way on the information. Instead, she kept her gaze focused out the windshield.
“She’s a cute kid,” she said, as if they were talking about the weather. “I’m glad she didn’t get your nose.”
Billy laughed. He somehow felt better.
* * *
THE SKETCH ARTIST’S name was Walden and he very much looked like what Mara suspected a Walden would look like. Slightly rounded in the gut, thick glasses, a crown of blond hair around a shiny spot of baldness and a patient, even temperament, the man took his time in sketching out Beck.
“Is this close?” he asked when he was finished. He slid his notebook over to her. Alexa, who had taken a snack break next to her mother, peeked over at the drawing.
“That’s perfect,” Mara said, quickly moving the notebook out of Alexa’s line of sight. As if the man could do her harm from it. “You’re very good at your job, Walden,” she added, thoroughly impressed. He’d even managed to add in the sneer that had pulled up the corner of Beck’s lips as he said goodbye.
“I’d always wanted to be an artist, though even I’m surprised that I wound up here.” Walden motioned around the conference room but she knew he meant the department as a whole.
“I can understand that,” she admitted. “I used to dream of running my own interior design business. Now I work at a flooring company trying to convince people redoing their floors is the first step to a happy home.” Mara gave him a wry smile. Walden shrugged.
“Hey, the floors are the foundation of a home. Not a bad place to start at all,” he pointed out. Mara laughed.
“You seem to be a very optimistic man. I suppose your glass is always half full?” Walden pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stood with his notebook.
“It’s better to have a half-full glass than an entirely empty bottle.” He gave her a nod. “I’m going to take this to the captain now. It was nice to meet you, Mara.”
It took her a moment to return the sentiment, as she was slightly stunned by the weight of his previous statement. She wasn’t the only one with pain in her life, and compared to most, hers wasn’t the worst. Her thoughts went to the teens in the hospital. She looked at Alexa, transfixed by her bag of cereal. At a time when families and loved ones were supposed to be coming together for holidays, Mara couldn’t imagine what she’d feel like if she were to get a call like the one the families of the teens were no doubt receiving.
“Knock, knock.” Mara shook herself out of such dark thoughts and focused on Cassie standing in the doorway. “Now that you’re finished, I’ve been told to tell you that you don’t have to hang around here any longer,” she said, all smiles. Her gaze went to Alexa. “I’m sure there are much more exciting places to be than a sheriff’s department.”
Although Cassie was no doubt being polite, Mara couldn’t help but wonder who’d told the woman that Mara should leave when finished. Had it been a polite suggestion to start off with or had the young woman changed the tone to stay nice? Mara mentally let out a long, loud sigh. Feelings of uncertainty, self-consciousness and guilt began to crop up within her again.
And she hadn’t even been in Riker County for a full twenty-four hours yet.
Instead of telling the truth—that she’d like to stay until Billy came back—Mara stood with an equally warm, if not entirely true, smile.
“There are a few places I’d like to visit,” she tried, attempting to wrangle her child’s toys and food back into their appropriate places within her bag. “Plus, it does seem to be a nice day outside.”
Cassie nodded, following Mara’s glance out of the conference room windows. Every Southerner had a love-hate relationship with winter. South Alabama had an annoying habit of being humid and hot when it should be chilly or cold. Christmastime was no exception. Mara had left her jacket in the car. She doubted she’d need it while in Carpenter, though she wouldn’t have minded being proven wrong. At least in North Alabama, where she lived with Alexa, the promise of being cold in time for the holidays was