Anguished 3l1943

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The views and opinions expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not reflect the views or opinions of Gatekeeper Press. Gatekeeper Press is not to be held responsible for and expressly disclaims responsibility of the content herein.

Published by Gatekeeper Press 2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109 Columbus, OH 43123-2989 www.GatekeeperPress.com

Copyright @ 2021 George Encizo

All rights reserved worldwide, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021938386 ISBN (paperback): 9781662914102

eISBN: 9781662914119

Book cover design by Elizabeth Babski

“When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill, Rest! If you must—but never quit.”

Author Unknown

ALSO BY GEORGE ENCIZO

JD PICKENS

Murder Knows No Boundaries Murder on Grange Road Descent into Hell

JOHN PORTER

Baxter House Blocker’s Bluff

OTHER FICTION

Broken Trust The Farber Legacy

To Karen. With love.

CHAPTER 1

“NINE-ONE-ONE, WHAT’S YOUR emergency?” asked Joey Butler, the nighttime emergency dispatcher. “Oh, dear Lord...someone with a baseball bat just attacked a man!” said a female in a shrill voice. “I think I scared the guy off when I flashed my brights and honked the horn. He might have seen me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had on one of those hoodie things.” “What’s your location, ma’am?” asked Butler, keeping his eyes on the response monitor while typing the incident into the computer. “The convenience store on Park Avenue. I’m in the parking lot. Should I help the man?” Butler typed in the location, and the automatic response monitor lit up. “No, ma’am. Stay in your vehicle. I just received another call from your location. An ambulance and a deputy should be there shortly.” Butler exhaled. This wasn’t the first time he had been in a sticky situation like this. He was twenty-nine years old and still in grad school. He liked the night shift because he could work on his research papers and homework. He was on duty the night Sandy Parks and Adele Teeks attacked the sheriff’s office after they had ambushed deputies Zeke Jackson and Jason Conlon. Conlon had died from his wounds. Butler was frightened during the attack but had done his best to remain calm and finish his shift. “What’s your name, ma’am?” Butler could hear the woman breathing with difficultly like someone panicking. “It’s...Lexi. Are you sure I shouldn’t help the poor man? He’s down on the ground and could be seriously hurt. I want to do something.” Remaining calm, Butler typed, Victim on the ground and then said, “You’re doing something, Lexi. You called 9-1-1. Stay calm and in your vehicle. Please.” He heard her sigh. “Okay. Wait, the store clerk is helping the man. I should

him.” “No, don’t...Lexi.” Butler heard the sirens from the ambulance and a patrol car. “Thank goodness the ambulance is here and a deputy. Can I go now? I can do without gas for another day.” “No, stay. The deputy will want your statement and the assailant’s description. What’s your last name, Lexi?” “I’m sorry—I can’t wait. I’m going home.” “No, stay, Lexi, please.” But it was too late. Lexi had hung up. Butler typed, Caller disconnected, and added the time. The first responders notified Butler that they were on the scene and tending to the victim.

CHAPTER 2

NEW YEAR’S DAY was always meant for watching football games instead of celebrating the first day of a new year in the Russell and Jeanette Pickens household with their son JD and his family. But this year, Russell and Jeanette were by themselves. Jeanette kept her husband company while knitting a pair of baby booties. They were her contribution to her ladies’ group for donation to the hospital’s maternity ward. “Did you see that, Jeanette?” said Russell and pointed at the television. “JD would never call a dumbhead play like that.” “Yes, dear. But you’re watching a college game. JD coaches high school games.” “Makes no difference. It was still a dumbhead call.” “If you say so, dear. Would you like a cup of coffee and a piece of pie?” Russell grinned. “Yes, I’d love both.” Jeanette got up and went into the kitchen. Seconds later, she called out to Russell, “We’re out of coffee and creamer.” “How’d that happen?” “You went through three pots watching football. If you want coffee with pie and for breakfast, you’ll have to go to the store.” “Now? But it’s the third quarter of the Rose Bowl. Can’t you go?” “Seriously? You want me to go out in the dark?” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s up to you. If you want coffee, you’ll have to go to the store.” “Doggone it, woman.” “I heard that.”

Russell stood. “I’ll be right back. Pay attention to the game for me.” “Yes, dear.” Russell mumbled, “If only I had taught her how to drive.” “I can still hear you.” Jeanette sat and picked up her knitting. “Darn fool. He made me drop a stitch. Now I’ll have to rescue it.” The next sound she heard was the garage door opening. The nearest place to their home was the convenience store on Park Avenue. After parking his truck, Russell carefully walked toward the entrance. When he entered, the clerk greeted him. “Evening, Mr. Pickens. You’re out late.” Russell frowned. “Yeah, my son is on vacation, and Jeanette forgot to pick up coffee and cream for our morning coffee. She insisted I get them tonight, so I’m out shopping.” Russell shook his head. “I swear it was like when she was pregnant.” The clerk smiled. “Thank goodness at least she’s not.” “Yeah.” Russell moved through the aisles until he found what he wanted, then walked to the counter and paid. “Have a nice evening, Mr. Pickens.” Russell waved back. “You too,” he said, then stopped. “Say, I noticed you’ve got a few lights out in the parking lot. Better get them fixed before somebody gets hurt. Also, I had to be extra careful not to trip in a pothole. During the day I can see them, but with the recent downpour and the puddles filled with water, I couldn’t tell a pothole from a puddle.” Russell pointed an index finger. “Better get them fixed too.” “Someone was supposed to take care of them today. I guess I’ll have to leave a note for the daytime clerk. You be careful, Mr. Pickens.” Russell nodded, left, walked toward his truck, and was struck from behind twice.

CHAPTER 3

THE EMTs WORKED on Russell, put him on a gurney and loaded him into the ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. The deputy on scene, Lea Abrue, called Detective Sergeant Amy Tucker and advised her that the victim was Sheriff JD Pickens’s father. “Was he hurt bad, Abrue?” asked Amy. “The EMTs said it was a severe concussion. That’s all they told me, Amy.” Everyone addressed Detective Sergeant Tucker as Amy, as she wanted. She wore her dirty blonde hair under a ballcap. Her hair had more gray streaks lately, and it was a sign she was old enough to be the other deputies’ mother. Amy wasn’t comfortable standing on ceremony, especially with the sheriff. “Okay. If there were any witnesses, interview them and get their statements. I’m going to Mr. Pickens’s home to get his wife. I’ll bring her to the hospital.” After talking to Amy, Abrue approached the store clerk to take his statement. “Can you tell me what happened and give me a description of the assailant?” “Sorry, Deputy. I was in the store when it happened. I saw Russell...uh...Mr. Pickens get hit with a baseball bat from behind. Then the robber took off. He was wearing a hoodie.” The clerk shrugged his shoulders. “It could have been a female.” He shrugged again. “Sorry, that’s the best I can tell you.” He raised an index finger. “Wait. There was a vehicle near the gas pumps when I came to Mr. Pickens’s aid, but it took off. Whoever was in it musta been afraid to get involved.” “Maybe,” said Abrue. She looked at the darkened corner, then at a row of gas pumps. The lights were out above the pumps. Abrue guessed the assailant might have come from either the darkened corner or had been hiding by the gas pumps. “The driver who left might have seen the assailant. We’ll try to find out who it was.”

CHAPTER 4

“O H, GOD, NO! ” shouted JD Pickens and bolted upright in bed. Pickens was six-foot -three- inches tall and the sheriff of a small rural county in Central Florida. It had two cities and several small towns with a combined population of just over sixteen thousand. “No what?” asked his wife, Dr. Marge Davids, who was the county medical examiner. Marge had kept her maiden name for professional reasons. She had auburn shoulder-length hair and, at forty-six, was a year younger than Pickens. “My dad was mugged. I saw the whole thing.” “No, JD, you had a nightmare. I spoke with your dad’s doctor, ? She said your dad has been in a coma for several days. He should be awake soon. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for observation.” Marge pulled him against her shoulder. “Your mom’s been staying with him. We’ll visit them later.” Pickens breathed a sigh of relief. “Where’s my phone? I have to call Billy and find out if he got the security tapes and identified the mugger.” Corporal Billy Thompson is one of Pickens’s senior deputies and considered the office technology wizard. While on board the cruise ship, Pickens had gotten an urgent call from Detective Sergeant Amy Tucker advising him his father was in the hospital. The next day, the ship arrived in the port of Miami, and they disembarked. Pickens then drove straight to the hospital. While JD talked to his mother, Marge spoke to Mr. Pickens’s doctor. When JD was convinced there was nothing he could do, he drove Marge and Sarah home, then went to the sheriff’s office for an update. Deputy Abrue gave Pickens a copy of her incident report, which included the detailed statements from the convenience store clerk and two customers who had been in the store the same time as his father. Unfortunately, the only witness in the parking area had left the scene, according to the store clerk. Billy was waiting for the security tape from the convenience store owner and was trying to locate Lexi, the witness who’d called 911 and left the scene. Amy had started a

board. The only thing she had written was Mugging, the date 1/1/19, and Lexi. Satisfied Amy had the situation under control, Pickens went home.

* * *

“No, JD,” said Marge. “It’s four-thirty in the morning. You can call Billy after breakfast. For now, let’s try to get some sleep.” “Yeah, you’re right, and we both need sleep.” Pickens grinned. “Unless you want to pamper me.” “Didn’t I pamper you last night?” Pickens sniffled. “Oh, alright, but you have to pamper me first.” Pickens kissed her on her mouth. “Where do you want me to start?” Marge cast off the sheet covering her and removed her pajamas. “Smartass, you know where to start. First, turn off the light.” “Screw the light.” “I thought you wanted me to screw you.” Pickens turned the light off. After breakfast, Pickens called Billy and asked about the security tapes. Unfortunately, Billy hadn’t yet received them. “The manager is waiting for the owner to grant permission,” said Billy. “It might take a couple of days.” “Screw the owner. You tell the manager to give you those tapes or I’ll have him arrested for hindering an investigation.” Pickens exhaled. He was furious. “We’re talking about my dad, and I don’t care what we have to do.” “But—” “Don’t ‘but’ me, Billy. Get it done. If necessary, have Amy go to the convenience store and threaten the manager. If she won’t, I will. Get it done. You

hear me?” Billy was about to respond, but Pickens ended the call. “Don’t you think you were harsh with Billy?” asked Marge. Pickens took a deep breath. “I needed to be harsh. We’re talking about my dad, and I want to catch whoever mugged him. And I want it done now!” Pickens slammed his fist on the kitchen counter. Sarah, Pickens’s eleven-year-old daughter, who had auburn-colored hair and resembled Marge, clung to her mother, and Bailey growled. Bailey was at first Pickens’s dog when he’d gotten him as a puppy from the kennel a year after Sarah was born. But as Sarah grew, Bailey grew with her and became her dog. Sarah and Bailey had never seen Pickens get that angry. “JD!” shouted Marge. “You frightened Sarah and Bailey. Enough with your anger. Your dad’s okay, and your deputies are doing the best they can. Control your emotions or get out of the house. Now!” Pickens’s stomach knotted. He crumpled onto a chair and took several breaths. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to get upset. It’s not about you, it’s...” Sarah stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know, Daddy. You’re upset about Grandpa.” Bailey licked Pickens’s hand. “Bailey understands too.” Pickens grinned. “Thanks, sweetheart. You too, Bailey.” He looked at Marge. “I’m sorry, Marge.” Marge grinned. “We understand. Let’s get ready, and we’ll go see your dad.” After clearing the breakfast table, Pickens and Marge dropped Sarah off at school, then left for the hospital in Pickens’s SUV. Bailey stayed behind and guarded the house. Pickens parked, but before crossing the parking lot, he looked left, then right, to be sure no one was lurking to shoot him like when he and Amy went to see Deputy Conlon’s widow. Marge did the same. Assured there was no one, Pickens and Marge walked to the hospital’s entrance and then to Pickens’s father’s room.

Like JD, Russell Pickens was being treated like a celebrity and had been given one of the VIP rooms instead of the ICU. Pickens’s mother, Jeannette, was slumped over his father on one side of the bed. She was at her husband’s bedside just as Marge had been when JD was in the hospital. Russell’s eyes were closed. Dr. Smathers was on the opposite side checking his oxygen flow monitors. Pickens’s father, wearing a nasal mask attached to a ventilator, looked lifeless, and it caused an ache in the back of JD’s throat. He clutched his arms to his chest. Marge stood and was about to approach him when Dr. Smathers turned and acknowledged Pickens with a nod. Dr. Smathers pressed a finger to her lips and nodded toward Pickens’s mother, indicating she was asleep. Next, Dr. Smathers approached Pickens and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s been sleeping a while. Don’t disturb her. Your dad’s okay. You can go near him.” “Thanks,” said Pickens and approached the bedside. He had hoped his father had come out of the coma and he could talk to him. Jeanette woke when Pickens and Marge were near the bedside. Jeanette had graying hair, and like her husband, was in her early seventies. She saw the pained gaze of worry on her son’s face. “He’s still in a coma, JD, but his doctor said his condition is stable, and he’ll come out of it any day now. Maybe today. Let’s hope so.” Pickens placed a hand on his chest. “Yeah, let’s hope so. How are you doing, Mom?” Jeanette let out an uncontrollable sob. “Better now that I know your dad’s stable.” She looked heavenward. “I’m worried, JD.” Pickens stepped forward and put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “So am I, Mom. It won’t be long before Dad comes out of the coma.” “How are you doing, JD?” asked Jeanette. As always, Pickens’s mother was concerned about her loved ones more than herself. Pickens bit his lip, attempting to hold back tears. “I’m...I’m hanging in there.” He could hardly get the response out.

Jeanette put her arm on her son’s arm. “Good. With God’s help, we’ll get through this. I pray every day for your dad.” “I’m sure he’s listening, Mom. Marge and I are praying too. So is Sarah.” Jeanette’s eyes lit up at the mention of her granddaughter. “How is Sarah doing? Does she know her grandpa is in the hospital?” “Yes. She was with us when we stopped by to look in on Dad when we got back from our cruise.” He glanced at Marge. “If you think it would help, we’ll try and bring her to visit Dad.” Marge nodded. Jeanette smiled. “He may not know she’s here, but it might help. Just her being here would be a blessing for both of us.” “We’ll bring her by on the weekend when she’s not in school.” Dr. Smathers interrupted the conversation. “Sorry, folks, I think it best you talk outside the room. I don’t want to disturb Russell.” “But...” said Jeanette. “It’s okay, Mom. Dr. Smathers is right. I’ll come by later and again tomorrow. Do you need anything?” Jeanette frowned. Pickens knew she was disappointed. “No. But sooner or later, I’ll need a change of clothes.” “I’ll take care of it,” said Marge. Pickens hugged his mother then looked at his father. He had never seen his father as vulnerable as he was lying in the hospital bed. He’d always considered his father a man of steel with enormous faith, the faith that had brought him home to his wife from Vietnam, and the steel that had helped guide Pickens through his own life. Now here was Pickens without his father to guide him through this crisis and help his mother through it.

CHAPTER 5

WHILE PICKENS WAS at the hospital, Amy studied the board, and Billy fretted about the security tapes. The only thing on the board was the victim’s name, date, time, and location of the incident, and the witnesses’ names with little comment. Under Suspect, Amy had written Unidentified male or female wearing a hoodie. “It’s no use, Amy,” said Billy. “Without those tapes, there’s nothing to add, and I’m worried JD might fire me because I haven’t gotten them yet.” Amy stopped writing. “Don’t worry, Billy. He won’t fire you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” “But, Amy—” “Billy, I’m the acting sheriff until JD says I’m not and the detective in charge of the case.” Amy grinned and waved a hand. “Sure, he’ll get upset with me, but it won’t be the first time or the last. Trust me. I can handle him.” Billy shook his head. “I don’t know, Amy. He was really annoyed when he called this morning.” Amy ignored Billy’s worry and confidently approached him. “You worry too much, Billy.” Amy thrust her thumb to her chest. “I’ll handle JD.” Amy smiled. “See? No worry.” Billy shook his head. “I hope you’re right about this. I might take a break when JD comes in so I’m not here for the fireworks.” “Coward,” said Amy. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s take a ride. Better yet, we’ll take two cars. You go to the convenience store; I’m going to Marilyn Nudley’s office. Also, have whoever’s on duty meet you at the store.” Billy’s brows hiked. “You’re going to the county prosecutor’s office? What for?” “To get a subpoena for those tapes. When you and whoever else get to the store,

put your emergency lights on.” “Why?” “Intimidation, that’s why.” Billy checked with the dispatcher and had her the deputy on patrol. It was Ritchie Ortiz, and the dispatcher had him meet Billy at the convenience store where the muggings had taken place. Amy visited Nudley at the county prosecutor’s office. When she explained why she wanted the subpoena, Nudley granted it immediately. Amy then called the Code Enforcement Office and explained the nonworking security lights and how they had contributed to the muggings. An enforcement officer was dispatched to the convenience store to investigate. Armed with the subpoena and knowing a code enforcement officer was en route, Amy drove to the convenience store with her emergency lights on and parked. Billy had parked his patrol car so patrons couldn’t park in the parking lot, and Deputy Ritchie Ortiz had parked his patrol car so patrons couldn’t get to the gas pumps. When several potential customers saw the sheriff’s cars, they drove off to get gas or groceries elsewhere. Inside the store, the clerk watched, irritated. Jeremy Bertlesom, the code enforcement officer, parked his truck near the front entrance and checked the potholes. He made notes and placed cones over each one. Then he went inside and had the clerk turn the outside lights on. He went back out and noted the security lights that were out. He also noted that the lights at a gas pump were out. He wrapped the nozzles with yellow caution tape to prevent them from being used. Bertlesom went inside and issued citations for the unsafe conditions. “Until you get those problems rectified,” said Bertlesom, “you’re shut down.” “Are you serious?” said the clerk. “Do I look like I’m not?” replied Bertlesom. “Get them rectified.”

Amy stood by the door, enjoying the exchange. As Bertlesom walked past her, he smiled. “That what you wanted?” Bertlesom whispered. Amy winked, then approached the clerk and glanced at her nametag. “Brenda, I’ve got a subpoena for the security tapes.” Amy handed it to her. “I’m not leaving here without them, or you’re going with me to the sheriff’s office for failing to comply.” Amy grinned. “Any questions?” Brenda went rigid and bit her lip. “I have to call my manager and the owner.” “Call anyone you want, but if I don’t get those tapes, you’ll want to call an attorney.” Brenda’s face turned white. “Screw this job and the owner. It’s not worth it. You can have the tapes, but I don’t know how to do it.” “Wise decision, Brenda. I have someone who can help you.” Amy opened the door and shouted, “Billy, in here!” Billy entered. “Yes, Detective?” Amy grinned. “Show Brenda how to access the security tapes for as far back as Christmas.” “On it,” said Billy and walked behind the counter. Brenda showed Billy the location of the tapes. He first reviewed the feed starting with Christmas, then advanced it. He watched the attack on Russell Pickens, then advanced to that day. Billy paused the feed at five-thirty that morning. “Amy!” shouted Billy. “You gotta see this.” “See what?” “Come look at this morning’s feed.” Amy ed Billy. He showed her what he saw. “Damn,” said Amy. “Another mugging...or an attempted one.” “Yeah,” said Billy. “The mugger picked the wrong guy.”

When the mugger attempted to strike a blow to the customer’s head, he turned and landed a roundhouse kick to the mugger’s groin. “The guy must know karate,” said Billy. “Look at the mugger run.” Amy laughed. “Too bad we can’t see the assailant’s face or his attacker’s.” She pointed at the screen. “Can you get the customer’s license plate?” “I’ll try when we get back to the sheriff’s office. I have better software.” “Okay, do what you have to.” Billy copied the feed onto a flash drive and followed Amy. “Thanks, Brenda,” said Amy. Brenda sighed. “I guess you’re welcome.” “You’d still better call whoever you need to so you can keep the store operating.” “I’ll call my manager and tell him I quit; and he needs to get here pronto.” Brenda took a deep breath. “I’m not under arrest, then?” “No,” said Amy. “You’re free to go home if you want.” “I’ll go home after I make the call. Thank you, Detective.” Amy nodded; then she and Billy left the store. Outside, Amy waved to the code enforcement officer. “Satisfied, Billy? Now you don’t have to worry about JD.” Billy smiled. “Thanks, Amy, but will he be okay with what we did here?” “Didn’t he tell you to have me threaten the store manager?” Amy grinned. “Well, I did. Indirectly, of course. Stop worrying, Billy. Everything’s copacetic.” Billy shook his head. “Are you doing the word-a-day thing?”

Amy smiled. “No, it was an answer in this morning’s crossword puzzle.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” Amy grinned. “When we get back, try again to locate Lexi,” she said, then signaled to Deputy Ortiz they were leaving. Ortiz got in his patrol car, and all three left.

CHAPTER 6

THE NEXT MORNING, Amy and Billy were reviewing the security tapes from the convenience store. Billy started with the evening of the mugging of Pickens’s father. He froze the feed as the mugger came out of the dark and went behind Russell Pickens. “Did you see that, Amy?” “Yeah. Play it back and go forward slowly.” Billy reversed the feed and went forward slowly. He paused when the mugger was about to hit Russell from behind. “Shit,” said Amy. “Can you zoom in on his or her face?” Billy zoomed in on the mugger’s face, but they couldn’t see enough of it because the mugger wore a hoodie and blocked the view. “Sorry, Amy, that’s the best I can do. If the mugger had turned toward the camera or the area had been well lighted, I might have been able to get something.” Billy fast-forwarded and paused at five-thirty that morning. “Another one?” said Billy. “Or an attempted one.” “Could be the same assailant,” said Amy. “But again, a hoodie blocks the face. Zoom in on the karate guy.” Unfortunately, the guy’s back was to the camera, and all they could see was his ass and back. “Try the license plate when the karate guy drives away,” said Amy. “Dammit,” said Billy, “that’s the pump where the lights were out. Sorry,” Amy put her hands on the back of her head and rocked back and forth. “Shit,”

she said. “I’ll have to go back to the convenience store and see if he paid at the pump. Maybe I can get his credit card info.” “You’ll need another subpoena.” “Yeah,” said Amy, determined. “Trust me. I’ll get one.” Stacey Morgan, the dispatcher and 911 operator, was listening to the conversation. When Amy said, “Paid at the pump,” Stacey interrupted. “What if he prepaid with cash?” said Stacey. “If he did, there won’t be a credit card receipt.” Amy’s and Billy’s jaws dropped, and Amy’s forehead wrinkled. “Dammit,” said Amy. “What do we do now?” Billy gave her a knowing grin and said, “We backtrack the feed and see if the guy went into the store. Maybe we’ll get a look at his face.” Amy’s jaw tightened. “Do it, dammit.” Billy backed up the feed. They watched as the guy came from the store, but they couldn’t make out his face. When the guy was in the store, they couldn’t get a clear picture because he wore a ballcap that blocked his face. Billy paused the feed. “See that?” said Stacey. “He paid cash. Told you so.” Amy shook her head. “Yeah, you did. You should be a detective, Stacey.” Stacey held a hand up. “No way. And be like you guys? I like my job, and I get to go home to my family at night.” Amy smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. Billy, play with the feed and see if you can get anything on karate guy.” “I’ll try, but no promises.” “Just try. While you’re doing it, I’ll update the board. Any luck yet on locating Lexi?”

“Not yet. Maybe it’s not her real name, but I’ll keep trying.” Amy went to the board and wrote 1/4/19, attempted mugging at same convenience store. Since there hadn’t been a murder, she referred to the board as the incident board. “Amy,” said Billy, “shouldn’t we tell JD about this latest one?” Amy stopped writing and turned around. “No. I’m the acting sheriff until JD says I’m not and the detective in charge of the cases.” Amy grinned and waved a hand. “JD might get upset with me, but it won’t be the first time or the last. Trust me. I can handle him.” “But, Amy...” “Billy, JD has had enough to deal with, with his father in the hospital, and he just got back from vacation. Let’s not add more problems for him. Not yet.” Billy shook his head. “I don’t know, Amy. What about the dispatcher? He was supposed to call the sheriff.” Amy ignored Billy’s worry and confidently approached him. “You worry too much, Billy. Karate guy never made a 911 call, so there’s no record of one.” Amy thrust her thumb to her chest and smiled. “See? No worry.” Billy shook his head. “I hope you’re right about this, Amy. I might take a break when JD comes in so I’m not here for the fireworks.” “Coward,” said Amy. “Billy is a coward. Billy is a coward,” she taunted and then laughed. “Ha ha. So I am.” “You’re what, Billy?” asked Pickens as he entered the sheriff’s office. Billy and Amy froze. “JD,” said Amy. “What are you doing here? We didn’t expect you.” Pickens raised his eyebrows. “I’m the sheriff. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Pickens

pointed to Billy. “So, what are you, Billy, or is it some secret between you and Amy?” “Um...uh,” stuttered Billy. Billy had kept a secret from Pickens only once, and that had been at Marge’s request. He had discovered information about the Buxtons, the husband and wife serial killers, and Marge had wanted him to refrain from telling Pickens until she’d had a chance to update him about the nature of the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Buxton. Billy wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and Pickens knew he was nervous and worried. “Um, uh, what? Out with it, Billy.” “We, uh...” stuttered Billy. “We were discussing your father’s case and the security tapes we got from the convenience store,” said Amy. “How is your dad doing?” “He’s doing fine. Thanks for asking.” Pickens knew Amy was sincere in asking about his father and not avoiding his question. “Now, what do the security tapes have to do with what Billy is? Is there something you don’t want to tell me because it’s about my dad and I was at the hospital all morning?” Pickens placed his hands on his hips and scowled. “Or did you do something you don’t want me to know about, and you and Billy want to hide it from me? Not gonna happen.” Pickens glared at Billy. “Out with it, Billy, now!” Before Billy could respond, Amy interrupted. “JD, we need to talk. In your office. Now!” Amy could be just as hard as Pickens and knew she could get away with it because she not only worked for him but had been a good friend of Pickens and Marge. As a grief counselor, Amy had counseled both Pickens and Marge when Marge had had a miscarriage years ago before Sarah was born. Amy had also provided counseling to several of the deputies. It was also why she could call him JD and not Sheriff as the other deputies had to. Amy put her hands on her hips and glared at Pickens. He glared back but followed Amy to his office and shut the door.

“Don’t counsel me, Amy. Not now,” said Pickens. “Yes, now! First, take two breaths.” Pickens relented and did. “Good. You’re grieving about your dad, JD. I understand. But we’re doing the best we can. Consider yourself still on vacation, and I’m in charge.” Pickens opened his mouth to object, but Amy raised her hand. “Don’t argue with me, JD. It’s not the first time I had to be in charge and probably not the last. Let me do my job.” Pickens breathed deeply and raised both palms. “You’re right, Amy. The case is more personal this time. I’m sorry.” “It’s personal to Billy and me too. Why don’t you take more time off and spend time with your parents?” Pickens rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should. Just give me an update on whatever you have; then I’ll get out of your way.” “Okay. Let’s talk to Billy. And, JD, let’s talk to Billy, not shout.” Pickens grinned and nodded, and they left the office. “Billy, give JD a brief update.” Billy glanced at Pickens, then at Amy. “It’s okay, Billy.” “There was another mugging, Sheriff. Or at least an attempted one. At the same convenience store on...” Billy didn’t have to say when as Pickens saw the date on the board. Billy then told Pickens what the security tape revealed. Once again, the mugger had worn a hoodie, and an ID wasn’t possible. “The overhead lights at the pump were out,” said Amy, “so we weren’t able to get the guy’s license plate, and he paid cash, so we got—” “Shit,” said Pickens, frowning. “Yeah,” said Amy. “That’s about it, but we’re not giving up. We’ll find something.” Pickens breathed. “I know you will, and my being here doesn’t help, does it?” Billy looked at Amy. She shook her head. “Not right now it doesn’t, JD. But

eventually we’ll need you.” Pickens grinned, half-heartedly. Amy put a hand on his shoulder. “Go visit your dad. We’ll call if we get anything.” Pickens nodded. “Yeah,” he said, sighing. “Thanks, Amy.” He glanced at Billy. “See you, Billy.” Billy nodded and Pickens left. “He looks like a man defeated,” said Billy. Amy shook her head. “Yeah, he does. You’d be too if your father were in the hospital and we couldn’t locate his assailant.” She slammed her fist on the nearby desk. “Dammit, Billy, we’ve gotta ID the mugger before he escalates.”

CHAPTER 7

SATURDAY MORNING, PICKENS convinced Leroy Jones to go fishing. Leroy’s initial objection was that it would be cold on the river, plus he had to open his restaurant for lunch. To resolve Leroy’s problem, Pickens convinced him to go earlier than they usually would on Sundays. Leroy relented, and knowing Pickens wanted a respite, Leroy didn’t question him. He merely asked how Russell was doing and let it go. After Pickens dropped Leroy at home, he watched as Leroy’s wife, Liana, greeted him. Pickens recalled the scene when had he sat in the driveway and watched Leroy propose to her. Sunday morning at breakfast, Sarah begged Pickens and Marge to take her with them when they went to the hospital instead of leaving her with Liana. “Please, Daddy, please,” Sarah pleaded. “But, honey,” said Marge, “Grandpa might not be awake.” Without going into much detail, Pickens and Marge explained her grandfather’s status. “He will be,” said Sarah. “I know he will be. I’m his only grandchild.” Sarah wasn’t about to give in. “Please take me.” Marge looked at Pickens, hoping he had some wisdom. But she knew Pickens was putty in Sarah’s hands, just as he was with Marge when she wanted something. Pickens hunched his shoulders, and Marge knew she was right. “He might be,” said Pickens. “But, Sarah, only if Grandma says it’s okay. And no whining if she says no.” Pickens gave her his best stern look, which never worked on either Sarah or Marge. Marge’s stern face, on the other hand, was altogether different and always worked. Pickens raised his palm. “Promise?” Sarah smiled. “I promise. Can Bailey come too?” The dog’s tail wagged as he barked. “No,” said Marge. “He’s not allowed in the hospital.” The dog whimpered. Sarah hung her head. “Okay. Can we go now?”

“No, honey,” said Marge. “We have to finish breakfast, and Dad might want to call his office.” She narrowed her eyes at Pickens. “Hopefully, not.” Pickens got the message. “I’ll do it later. But I need more bacon and coffee. Bailey ate most of mine.” The dog barked. “No he didn’t,” said Sarah. “You’re just saying that.” “Got me,” said Pickens. “But more bacon would be nice, Mommy.” Marge got the message. “On it, Daddy.” All three laughed. After breakfast, Pickens and his family got into his white sheriff’s SUV. It was a delight to Sarah. When Pickens parked and opened the door, a motorcycle in the next row started up. Pickens instinctively reached for his weapon on his hip— which wasn’t there. He had left it in the safe at home. Marge noticed his reflex action and grabbed Sarah’s hand. She waited until Pickens was sure it was safe to cross the parking lot to the hospital entrance, then walked with him. Once inside the hospital, Sarah walked up to the receptionist and said, “We’re here to see my grandpa, Mr. Russell Pickens. What’s his room number?” The receptionist was about to object to a child entering the hospital, but Pickens flashed the sheriff’s badge he had on his belt. “Take the elevator to the second floor,” said the receptionist. “He’s in one of the VIP rooms.” Pickens nodded his head. Marge smiled at the receptionist and muttered, “She’s a precocious eleven-year-old going on twelve.” The receptionist smiled. Sarah went right to the elevator and pressed the up button. The door opened, and Pickens and Marge hurried to catch up with her. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Sarah exited and headed down the hallway, searching for her grandfather’s room. Sarah saw her grandmother sitting at her grandfather’s bedside and went right in and up to her grandmother. Pickens and Marge hurried to stop her but were too late.

“Hi, Gramma,” said Sarah. Jeanette was startled and was about to stop Sarah from approaching the bed, but it was futile. Sarah grabbed Russell’s hand. Jeanette reached out and touched Sarah’s arm. “Sweetheart, Grandpa’s still sleeping.” Jeanette didn’t want to say he was in a coma for fear Sarah wouldn’t understand. Jeanette rubbed her hand through Sarah’s hair. “We haven’t seen you since Christmas. Why don’t you tell us about your vacation?” Jeanette knew it might be helpful as it might be possible Russell could hear her. Sarah’s eyes glowed. “Okay,” she said. “Gramma, we got on this big ship.” Sarah spread her arms wide as JD did when describing to Sarah and Marge the big fish he caught but had to release it back into the water. “Then we...” Pickens and Marge stood just inside the room and listened to Sarah describe their cruise vacation to the Caribbean after the Christmas holiday. Marge had arranged the trip. It was the first real vacation they had taken since their honeymoon. Sheriff’s and medical examiner’s work always got in the way. “Children sure have a way of making things merry and bright, don’t they?” said Dr. Smathers, who stood in the doorway. Pickens turned. “Yes. But he’s still in the coma.” “Give him time, JD,” said Dr. Smathers. “He sustained a traumatic brain injury, and it takes time for patients to emerge from a coma. For now, let your mother enjoy her granddaughter’s company. Hopefully, your father can hear your daughter. It might help bring him out of the coma.” She brushed the back of her hand against Pickens’s arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to check on.” Pickens stepped aside. “Then, the three of us will have coffee in the lounge.” Pickens’s mouth opened. “Don’t worry, JD, your mother is in command, and your father and daughter are in good hands.” Dr. Smathers smiled. “That’s what mothers and wives do, JD. They take charge. Right, Marge?” Marge smiled and nodded. Dr. Smathers walked past Pickens and up to Russell’s bed. “What’s this?” she asked. “Is this a party, and no one invited me?” Jeanette’s brows hiked. “Dr. Smathers. Good morning. Meet Sarah, my granddaughter. She was telling us about the cruise she went on.”

“So I heard,” said Dr. Smathers and glanced at the monitor. Russell’s vitals were normal. “I bet it was great. It seems I’m interfering here, so I’ll take your grandfather’s temperature and leave.” She reached into her lab coat and took out the non- digital thermometer and pointed it at Russell’s forehead. “Normal.” “Did you just shoot my grandpa?” “No, honey,” said Jeanette. “She used a thermometer to take Grandpa’s temperature. It’s a new kind. I’ll buy one and keep it at home in case I need to take your temperature.” “Cool.” “All done,” said Dr. Smathers. “I’ll let you get back to telling your grandparents about your cruise.” She turned and walked toward Pickens and Marge. “Cafeteria now.” Pickens and Marge followed Dr. Smathers to the cafeteria. It was more like a snack bar with table seating. You could get coffee, juice, a soft drink, fresh baked goods from Lydia’s Bakery, and prepared sandwiches in plastic wrap. If you wanted something hot, you had to settle for a hot dog from the rotisserie. They ordered coffee, found an empty table, and sat. Marge took a sip of coffee, as did Dr. Smathers. “Before you say anything, Elaine,” said Pickens, “this is all my fault.” Marge narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about, JD?” Pickens breathed. “If I hadn’t agreed to go on that damn cruise, I would have been with my parents on New Year’s Day. And my dad wouldn’t be here.” Dr. Smathers watched with interest the banter between Pickens and Marge as though she were watching a tennis match. Marge took a deep breath. “No. What you’re saying is it’s my fault because I insisted we take the cruise.” “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s my fault, Marge.”

Dr. Smathers raised her hands. “Stop. Both of you,” she said, and the room suddenly became quiet as other visitors in the room stopped talking. “Listen to what you’re saying, JD. If you were home and had gone to the convenience store, then you’d be in bed with a concussion or still in a coma because you once got shot, ?” She pointed at Pickens’s head. “Maybe even worse.” Pickens’s brows hiked, and his jaw dropped. Marge dealt with death on a routine basis, so she didn’t panic as Pickens did. “It doesn’t help anyone,” said Dr. Smathers. “Especially your mother. It’s not your fault. It’s the person who attacked your father’s fault.” She slammed her hands on the table, nearly knocking over everyone’s coffee. “Get over yourself, JD.” Marge placed her hand on Pickens’s hand. “Elaine is right, JD. It’s neither of our faults.” Marge could have been as direct as Dr. Smathers was but wasn’t because she agreed with Dr. Smathers and felt it wasn’t necessary. Pickens’s lips pursed, and he covered Marge’s hand. “Yeah. You’re both right, but Elaine, how long before my dad comes out of the coma?” Dr. Smathers glanced around the room. Heads had dropped, and people pretended they weren’t listening. “Soon, JD,” she said, lowering her voice. “We don’t want to rush things. Give it time.” She patted Pickens’s hand. “I have a feeling it won’t be long.” “Elaine is right, JD,” said Marge. Pickens’s lips pursed again. “I know it’s difficult for you to be patient, but try.” Pickens breathed, something he had learned to do from Dr. Phyllis Wainwright to relieve stress. “You’re right, both of you.” “Of course, we are,” said Marge and Dr. Smathers together. Pickens nodded his head, then leaned closer to Dr. Smathers so that he could make visual with her hazel eyes. “You know?” he said. “You’re a good doctor and a good friend.” Dr. Smathers placed her elbows on the table, laced her fingers, placed her chin on them, gazed into Pickens’s brown eyes, and fluttered her eyelashes. “Is he

about to proposition me, Marge?” Marge did the same as Dr. Smathers, including fluttering her eyelashes and replied, “I don’t know. I think this was how he first propositioned me.” “You think this is how he propositions all his women?” said Dr. Smathers. Pickens’s head snapped back. “Hold on,” he said, then picked up his cup and took a sip. “Why, Dr. Smathers, I believe he’s blushing.” Pickens stood. “My...uh, coffee is cold,” he stuttered. “I’m, uh, gonna get a fresh cup.” He walked to the counter and asked the volunteer, “Can I get a fresh cup of coffee, please?” The volunteer put her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her laced fingers. “You sure can,” she said, then fluttered her eyelashes. “Would you like a little sugar with it, sweetie?” Pickens shook his head. “Not you too, Madeline? Just give me a damn cup of black coffee.” Madeline was also one of Pickens’s old girlfriends. “Sure thing, sweetie,” she said and poured Pickens a fresh cup of coffee. “Anything else, sweetie?” she said while fluttering her eyelashes. Pickens grabbed the coffee and went back to Marge and Dr. Smathers, who were whispering to each other. Pickens suspected they were trading old stories about him. When he returned to the table, the whispering stopped. After Pickens sat, Dr. Smathers checked her watch and said, “I’m afraid I have to leave. I have patients to see.” She winked at Marge. “Dr. Davids, it’s been a pleasure. JD, always a pleasure. what I said. Be patient. Let your mother and your daughter enjoy their time with your dad.” She placed her hand on Pickens’s shoulder. “He’ll awaken when he’s ready.” Pickens grinned. “Thanks, Elaine.” Dr. Smathers smiled and left. Pickens grabbed Marge’s hand. “Thanks, Marge, for being here for me.” Marge grinned. “I know you and Elaine were trying to take my mind off my dad, and I

appreciate it.” “You’re welcome, quarterback.” “Quarterback? You haven’t called me that in a while.” She covered his hands. “I know. We should get back to using nicknames again.” Pickens grinned. “On it, wide receiver.” Both laughed. “Maybe we should check on Sarah.” Pickens nodded. Both stood, and they left the cafeteria holding hands. When Marge and Pickens returned to his father’s room, Jeanette and Sarah were in animated conversation, with Sarah monopolizing the exchange. Sarah was still talking about the cruise. Pickens and Marge stood in the doorway and listened. “Where does she get the energy from, Marge? Some of the things she said I don’t happening.” Marge elbowed him. “That’s because we weren’t always with her. ?” She smiled. “We were. You know?” Pickens smiled. “Oh yeah. Now I .” “Sarah, darling, it’s almost time for Grandpa’s lunch.” Jeanette glanced at Pickens and Marge. “I think your parents might want to go to lunch.” Jeanette nodded at Pickens and Marge. “Sarah.” Sarah turned when she heard her mother’s voice. “Daddy and Mommy are hungry, and we need to let Gramma rest. Time for us to go home.” Sarah pursed her lips. “Okay, Mom. Gramma, I have to go home now. But I’ll be back soon. I’ve got lots more to tell you.” Jeanette smiled. “I’ll be here, Sarah. Kiss us.” Sarah kissed Jeanette then kissed Russell. “Bye, Gramma and Grandpa. Okay, I’m ready.” “See you, Mom. See you...” Pickens caught himself about to say goodbye to his

father. Jeanette waved. “JD, don’t look so disappointed,” Marge said and grabbed Pickens’s hand. “Give your dad time.” “Yeah.” Sarah ed them, and they walked down the hallway with Pickens holding his daughter’s hand. After they had left the hospital and crossed the parking lot, Pickens asked, “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day? I could go to the office and see what’s happening.” “No, Daddy, no office today. We’re going to lunch and then home.” Marge grinned. “Daddy’s taking us to lunch, sweetheart. Then we’re going to Grandma’s house.” Pickens’s eyebrows squished together. “Daddy’s just confused. We’re going to straighten up Grandma’s house for her since she hasn’t had a chance to. I thought it would be a nice idea.” Marge scowled at Pickens, daring him to object. “Good idea, Mommy. Don’t you agree, Daddy?” Pickens mouthed, “Thank you.” Marge smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s a great idea.” They piled into Pickens’s SUV and headed for lunch and then his parents’ house. After making the bed, and straightening up the living room, Pickens and his family went home. Pickens spent the afternoon puttering around the garage and in the backyard attempting to take his mind off his father.

CHAPTER 8

MONDAY MORNING, AMY and Billy were at Billy’s desk reviewing the convenience store security tapes. Billy played with the feed from January fourth when the mugger attempted to attack the karate guy. He was hoping to get an image of both the gas pump and karate guy’s vehicle. “It’s no use, Amy,” said Billy. “There’s not enough light.” Billy continued when he heard Stacey Morgan, the dispatcher and 911 operator, taking a call. After Stacey ended the call, Billy stood and yelled, “Stacey, what was that about!” “There was another mugging.” Amy looked at Billy and yelled, “When!” Billy yelled, “Where!” Stacey checked her log. “Murgdon’s Hardware and Farm Supplies.” This was Warfield’s version of a Home Depot and feed supply store. Customers could purchase anything from nuts and bolts up to and including small tractors. “I sent an ambulance and Corporal Jackson.” Corporal Zeke Jackson was one of three African American deputies hired by Sheriff Pickens, and he had been promoted to corporal before Pickens went on vacation. “I also alerted Detective Sergeant Dunne,” said Stacey, “since Murgdon’s is in Warfield.” Dunne was in charge of the Warfield sheriff’s office. “I didn’t think you wanted me to call Sheriff Pickens, Amy.” Amy waved her hand. “You did everything you were supposed to, Stacey. There’s no need to call Sheriff Pickens.” “What do we do, Amy?” asked Billy. “If this is the same mugger, then we need to go there. Stacey, will you be okay by yourself, or should I have a deputy come here?” “I’ll be fine, Amy,” replied Stacey. “I’ll lock the door after you leave. If anyone wants in, I’ll check the monitor, then tell them to come back. If a deputy wants

in, they can use the key code.” The remote locking system and key code entry were new additions after the attack on the sheriff’s office last year by Parks and Teeks. “Okay. But if you need us, call. We’ll have our radios with us so you can us. Let’s go, Billy.” Both strapped their radios to their belts and left. When Amy and Billy arrived at Murgdon’s, there were several vehicles with their flashers on, an ambulance, Corporal Zeke Jackson’s patrol car, and Detective Sergeant Mia Dunne’s patrol car. There was also a crime scene van. Amy and Billy eased out of the patrol car. As the acting sheriff, Amy could take control of the investigation. But as Pickens would have done, she decided that since the scene was in Warfield and Dunne’s area of responsibility, she’d let Dunne take control of the scene. Billy checked for security cameras and spotted them on a light pole. “Amy, I’m going inside to check the security feed.” He pointed to the camera. Amy looked up. “Good idea, Billy. I’ll let Detective Sergeant Dunne know.” Amy moseyed over to the crime scene. The victim was on the ground, and the EMTs were no longer istering aid. Dr. Tom Morgan and a criminalist were taking pictures. Dunne was observing. She looked up and saw Amy watching. “Morning, Detective.” Amy nodded. “Morning, Detective Sergeant Dunne.” Dunne was a former military police officer, and unlike Amy, Dunne was a stickler for ceremony. She required everyone to address her by her full title, including Pickens, and she did the same in return. “Seems like we have a third victim in less than two weeks,” said Amy. Dunne stiffened. “Third? Who were the first two?” “Sheriff Pickens’s father,” replied Amy. “And there was another several days after that one.” Amy looked at the victim on the ground. “Is...?” “Yes,” said Dunne. “But Sheriff Pickens said his father is in the hospital with a head injury. He never said it was from a mugging.”

Amy glanced at the small crowd milling around by a row of tractors and stacks of wooden fence material before answering. “You know how he is. He likes to keep things bottled up, especially family matters. Trust me, Detective, be glad he’s still on vacation.” Amy looked at Dr. Morgan. “I called Dr. Morgan since Corporal Jackson advised me before I got here that it was a murder. I was just about to have the EMTs take the victim to the coroner’s office.” Dr. Morgan stopped taking pictures. “Good morning, Detective Tucker. After Detective Sergeant Dunne releases the victim, I’ll do an autopsy when I return to the morgue.” “COD, Dr. Morgan,” said Dunne. “I suppose it’s blunt force trauma?” “Yes,” replied Morgan and handed Dunne the victim’s wallet. “No one his age could have survived such a blow. I’d guess he was hit with a baseball bat.” “Same as Sheriff Pickens’s father was,” said Amy. “But he survived.” “Marge said Mr. Pickens was in the hospital with a head injury, but she didn’t say it was from a mugging,” said Morgan. “Detective,” interrupted Dunne, “you said this is the third. What happened in the second instance?” “The assailant was hit by a karate kick and fled. We’re trying to ID the kicker. All we know about the assailant is he or she wore a hoodie.” Amy pointed to the camera. “Billy went inside to see if there is a security feed. If there is, do you want it, or do you want Billy to run with it, Detective?” Dunne screwed her face in thought. “Let Billy run with it. He’s got the equipment. I’d have to use Bobby Ellison’s assistant, and I don’t want to have to ask for a favor from Ellison.” Bobby Ellison was a retired homicide detective and private investigator whose office was in Warfield. Pickens had used Ellison on several cases in the past. Amy shook her head. “I hear you and don’t blame you, Detective. I wouldn’t either.”

“I hate to break up this meeting, detectives,” said Morgan, “but I need to get the body to the morgue.” “Sorry,” said Dunne. “The victim’s all yours. I want a copy of your report when it’s ready.” She looked at Amy. “And send a copy to Detective Sergeant Tucker.” Amy nodded her appreciation. Morgan addressed the EMTs. “Please transfer the victim to the morgue. Someone will be there to let you in. I’ll be there as soon as I finish here.” The EMTs loaded the body into the ambulance, closed the door, and left the scene. “Do you need the witnesses’ statements, Dr. Morgan?” asked Dunne. “I’d appreciate them. If they witnessed the attack, it would help with the autopsy as to method and angle of attack.” “Corporal Jackson,” said Dunne. “send a copy of the statement to Dr. Morgan.” “Will do, Detective Sergeant Dunne,” said Jackson. “Who were the witnesses, if I may ask?” said Amy. Dunne nodded at Jackson. “The wife,” said Jackson. “She was returning from putting the shopping cart away and saw her husband get attacked and screamed. She said the assailant then took off. She rushed to her husband, and they had words.” Jackson coughed. “Parting words, she said. She’s sitting in my patrol car.” Jackson checked his notes. “The other witness was walking to her vehicle when she saw what happened and called 911 but was too far away to ID the assailant. She’s also in my patrol car. I put her with the victim’s wife to comfort her as they’re both about the same age. Oh.” Jackson raised an index finger. “Both said the assailant wore a hoodie.” “Hmm,” said Amy. “May I, Detective Sergeant Dunne?” Dunne nodded. “Please do.” “How old was the victim?” asked Amy. “I’ve got that,” said Dunne and opened the victim’s wallet. “Sixty-seven according to his driver’s license. Why?”

“Just a guess, but that makes two senior citizens. I don’t know what age the second victim was.” Dunne narrowed her eyes and contemplated, “You think the assailants are targeting senior citizens?” “It goes to a possible motive...and could be the same assailant.” “But Warfield is thirty miles from where Sheriff Pickens’s parents live.” Dunne hesitated. “You think the assailant is branching out, and we have a serial assailant on our hands? Not again.” “Excuse me, detectives,” interrupted Jackson. Amy and Dunne eyed Jackson. “Maybe there are two, possibly three assailants, and they’re part of an attackand-run-gang, possibly teenagers” Jackson hunched his shoulders. “Just a theory.” “And an excellent theory, Corporal Jackson.” Jackson nodded. Normally he would have smiled at Dunne, but he knew better because he was under Dunne’s command. Amy raised her palm. “Maybe we should consider it.” “You’re the acting sheriff, Detective Sergeant Tucker. It’s your decision.” Just then, Billy ed the group. “Morning, Detective Sergeant Dunne.” Dunne nodded. Billy acknowledged Corporal Jackson’s presence with two fingers on his shirt sleeve. Jackson gave Billy a two-fingered salute. “Amy, I watched the security feed. It’s like the others, except I could barely make out the mugger’s face. I can’t tell if it’s a male or female, but I’d swear it doesn’t appear to be an adult. I sent a copy to myself, and when I get back to the sheriff’s office, I’ll try to get a clearer image.” Billy realized he was infringing on Dunne’s territory. “Sorry, Detective Sergeant Dunne. Do you want me to send it to your office?” “No. Detective Sergeant Tucker and I already discussed it. You handle it.” Billy looked at Amy. She nodded. “If I get a better image, I’ll copy you, Detective Sergeant Dunne.” Dunne nodded. “Excuse me, detective sergeants,” said Jackson. “If you don’t need the witnesses,

I’d like to let them go, especially the victim’s wife. She’s really distraught, and I’m sure she’d like to be with family.” “You can release them, Corporal Jackson,” said Dunne. “If the wife doesn’t want to drive her husband’s vehicle, feel free to take her wherever she wants as a courtesy of the sheriff’s office.” “On it, Detective Sergeant Dunne.” Jackson smiled since he was happy to be allowed to aid the victim’s wife. He saluted Dunne and Amy, and nodded to Billy, then left. “Billy,” said Amy. “You said you didn’t think the mugger was an adult. Does that mean you think it was a teenager? We don’t have teenagers in this county who would target adults, especially senior citizens.” “It may sound crazy, but it’s my opinion.” “I differ with you, Detective Sergeant Tucker,” said Dunne. “And if you asked Sheriff Pickens, he’d agree. It wasn’t long ago that he was shot by teenagers joyriding in Warfield.” Amy stiffened. “How could I forget that?” “A moment, Detective Sergeant Tucker,” said Dunne and tilted her head to the side. Amy understood and followed her. “Look, Amy,” said Dunne when they were out of hearing range. Amy slanted her brows. “Don’t look confused that I called you Amy. We’re on our own here and using titles is getting in the way. So, for now, let’s use just Detective or first names.” Dunne and Amy had bonded at the hospital when Pickens was shot and started calling each other by first names when alone. “Besides, we’ve got a big problem here, and if it is teenagers, then we need to call the sheriff.” “You sure, Mia? Because I’m tired of calling you Detective Sergeant Dunne. Just Detective works for me. Agreed?” “Agreed. But we may have to add our last name at times to avoid confusion. Let’s get back to Corporal Thompson and Dr. Morgan before they think we’re plotting something.” Both smiled, then ed the others. “Detective sergeants,” said Morgan.

“Detective is fine, Dr. Morgan,” said Dunne. Morgan knitted his eyebrows. “Okay then, detectives, I’m done here. We’re going to leave.” Just then, Amy’s, Dunne’s, and Billy’s radios squelched. “Amy and Detective Sergeant Dunne, a 911 call just came in about another mugging. It’s in Warfield.” “This is Detective Dunne responding. Where in Warfield?” “The convenience store on Prentiss Avenue,” replied the 911 operator. “I’ve dispatched an ambulance and sent Deputy Bosnik since Corporal Jackson is with you.” “Hold on, Dr. Morgan,” said Amy. “We may need you.” “Prentiss Avenue is about a mile from here,” said Dunne, “just off of Cumberland Highway.” Dunne noticed the small crowd had grown larger, and people were taking pictures with their cell phones. “I’m going there, Detective. You can handle things here.” She nodded toward the crowd. Amy glanced at the crowd. “I’m with you. Billy can wrap things up here.” Amy nodded toward the crowd. Billy glanced at it and narrowed his eyes. “You can handle things here, Billy. Take my car when you’re finished. I’ll go with you, Detective Dunne.” She handed Billy her keys. “Dr. Morgan, you might want to follow us.” Amy and Dunne got in Dunne’s patrol car and left. “Sorry, Billy,” said Morgan. “We’re going with the detectives.” Morgan and the criminalist got in the crime scene van and left. Billy glanced around the parking lot then at the spot where the victim had been. Minutes earlier, Amy, Dunne, Morgan, and the crime scene van had been there as well as the criminalist, Betty-Jean Carr, Billy’s girlfriend. “The hell with this. There’s nothing left to do here. I’m going to Prentiss Avenue.” He got in Amy’s patrol car and left, unaware that Jimmy Nosbey, the local newspaper reporter, was following him.

CHAPTER 9

DUNNE TURNED LEFT off Cumberland Highway and onto Prentiss Avenue, then went into the convenience store parking area. The ambulance arrived behind her and pulled to a stop where a handful of customers had gathered. Amy and Dunne were out of the patrol car just as the EMTs were rushing to the aid of the victim. Tom Morgan arrived just after Amy and Dunne. Deputy Carla Bosnik arrived and parked her patrol car. Seeing Amy and Dunne already on the scene, she attempted crowd control by extending her arms. “Please, folks, move back. Give the EMTs room to work.” “Excuse me, Deputy. My wife made the 9-1-1 call, and I chased the son of a bitch.” The man lifted a hand. “Sorry about that.” Bosnik ignored the comment and stepped back. “You chased the subject?” “Yeah. I chased him as far as I could run.” Bosnik raised her hand. “Hold on, sir. Let me get a detective.” The witness raised both palms and stepped back. Bosnik walked over to Dunne and coughed. “Excuse me, Detective Sergeant Dunne, but I have a witness who says he chased the subject.” Bosnik pointed her thumb over her shoulder. Dunne nodded at Amy, and both approached Bosnik. “I haven’t taken his statement yet. I thought you might want to question him, Detective Sergeant—” Dunne interrupted Bosnik. “It’s Detective, Deputy.” Bosnik did a double take. Dunne addressed the witness. “Excuse me, sir. You said you chased the assailant?” “Yes. My name is Avery Fonda.” Dunne held out her hand, and he shook it. “As I told the deputy, my wife made the 9-1-1 call, and I chased the son of a...” Fonda stopped short of repeating his off-color remark. “We were coming out of the store when we saw him strike the man in the head as he was putting air in his tires. I yelled, and he took off. I chased him as far as I could but lost him at the parking lot of the office building down the street.” Fonda pointed toward the office building. “If I were a few years younger, I would have caught him.” Fonda

took a moment to breathe. “I heard a motorcycle behind me and stopped running. I don’t know if the motorcycle caught him. How’s the guy doing?” “The EMTs are working on him,” replied Dunne. “You said someone on a motorcycle chased him. Did you see how far?” Fonda took another deep breath and raised his palms. “Sorry, I didn’t.” “You’re sure it was a male?” Fonda narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t see his face because he had a hoodie covering it. But I’m pretty sure it was a male because he ran like one.” “How so?” “The way he held the bat and pumped his arms. My daughter was a runner, and she didn’t run like he did. If I’m wrong, I apologize to my daughter for being sexist.” Fonda grinned. Dunne grinned. “Thank you, Mr. Fonda. Deputy Bosnik, did you get all that?” “Yes, Detective, and I’ll get his and his wife’s information. Sir, can you give me your info?” While Bosnik got the witnesses’ info, Dunne ed Amy. “How’s he doing? “It looks like he’ll survive,” said Amy. “His wife is pretty shaken. The EMTs had to pry her away from her husband. She’s going in the ambulance to the hospital. Dr. Morgan checked the man and said he had a concussion but left it for the doctors at the hospital to say how severe.” Amy glanced at Bosnik and the witnesses. “Were they helpful?” Dunne shook her head. “Not much. Same as the last one. The assailant wore a hoodie.” Dunne then told Amy about Fonda giving chase and the motorcycle. “He thinks the assailant was a male because of the way he ran and held the bat.” “Sexist, huh?” Amy shook her head. “Maybe the office building has cameras. I’ll send Billy to check.” Amy was about to radio for Billy when he arrived on the scene and parked.

“Speaking of Billy,” said Dunne, “there he is now.” Billy approached cautiously. He didn’t know how Amy would react to his presence. “Detectives,” said Billy. “I finished at the last scene and thought you might need me here.” Billy glanced at Betty-Jean Carr, the criminalist. She smiled, and Billy grinned. “Uh-huh,” said Amy. “Lucky for you, we need your services. There’s an office building up the street.” Dunne pointed in the direction of the building. Billy followed Dunne’s pointing. “The assailant was chased there. See if there are any cameras. If there are, maybe they got video of the assailant.” Dunne mouthed “motorcycle.” “Oh yeah, the witness who chased the assailant on foot said a motorcycle might also have chased the assailant. Maybe the motorcycle is also in the video.” “On it, Amy. I’ll drive down the street and take a look. Maybe other buildings might have cameras.” “Good idea,” said Amy. Billy saluted Dunne and left. As he did, he waved to Betty-Jean. “Damn,” said Dunne. “Guess who just arrived?” Dunne pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Nosey.” Amy wrinkled her nose, pondering Noseby’s arrival. “Maybe we can use him,” she said. Dunne wrinkled her brow. Amy pointed an index finger. “If these attacks are the work of a gang, and a gang of teenagers, maybe if we give Nosey something to write about...” “Like what?” “How about just a gang of teenagers.” Dunne narrowed her eyebrows. “Think about it. If it is teenagers, maybe others have heard about it and may know who they are. If so, they might be willing to give us information.” Dunne was pondering the situation. “But, Amy, exclusives are what the sheriff does, not us. Maybe we should talk to him first.” Amy slumped her head. “Yeah, maybe we should. But there’s nothing wrong with having Nosey come to the sheriff’s office in the morning. I can talk to JD

before giving Nosey the scoop he’d like.” Dunne nodded. “That’s a better idea. Let’s talk to him after we finish here.” “And after Billy returns...in case he learns something.”

CHAPTER 10

AS THE EMTs loaded the victim into the ambulance, Amy approached his wife. “Excuse me, ma’am, I have a few questions before you go,” said Amy. The woman glared at Amy. “Did you see what happened?” “No. I didn’t see anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go with my husband.” “Just one more—” Morgan put his arm between Amy and the woman, startling Amy. “That’s enough, Detective.” Morgan wasn’t intimidated by Amy. She glared at Morgan’s arm. He stepped in front of Amy as the woman got into the ambulance with her husband and an EMT. The other EMT closed the door, got in the ambulance, and drove away. “You can question her later, Amy, at the hospital if necessary.” Amy stepped back. She knew he was right and Morgan cared about the victim’s wife. Plus, he was on her side. “Yeah, I guess I can.” She was about to add another comment, but her phone chimed. She checked the caller ID. “Shit. Just what I need. It’s JD. I’ll let it go to voice mail.” Dunne’s phone chimed. She saw who was calling. “Amy, it’s the sheriff.” “Let it go to voice mail. He’ll think we’re in the restroom.” Dunne raised her eyebrows. “Both of us?” “Excuse me, detectives,” said Morgan. “One of you should take his call. He knows you’re here.” Amy and Dunne looked befuddled. “I told Marge about what occurred at both places, and I’m sure she told JD.” “Shit,” said Amy and Dunne simultaneously. “He’ll call Billy,” said Amy.

“Probably,” said Morgan. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a body to attend to. Let’s go, Billy-Jean.” The criminalist waved to Amy and Dunne, got in the van, and Morgan then drove away from the scene. “Speak of the devil,” said Dunne and pointed toward the street, “here comes Billy now.” Billy got out of the patrol car and strolled up to the two detectives. He had a dour look on his face. “Sorry, detectives, there was no sign of anyone or a motorcycle. But I did see a security camera on one of the three buildings.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it will be helpful as it was too far from the street. I copied the name of the leasing agent, and I’ll call and see if I can get the security feed.” Billy shrugged. “Sorry, it’s the best I could do. Oh, the road curved to the left, and I followed it. There were several warehouse businesses, and one was a repair shop for motorcycles.” Amy and Dunne nodded their heads, hoping the motorcycle was there. “It had a sign on the door,” said Billy, “that said it was closed until further notice.” Amy and Dunne shook their heads, signaling they were disappointed. “I followed the road until it ended at the highway. If there was a motorcycle, it might have turned onto it.” “It was a long shot, Billy,” said Amy. “Maybe you’ll get lucky with the leasing agent.” “I forgot,” said Billy. “The sheriff called.” Amy and Dunne pursed their lips and nodded their heads. “He asked why neither of you answered your phone. I told him you were probably questioning witnesses and didn’t want to be disturbed.” Billy grinned. “I told him about both instances and the victims. He should be here pretty soon.” Amy bit her lip. “Good going, Billy. Detective Dunne, do you have a plan? You’re the lead detective here.” Dunne’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks a lot,” she said and rubbed the back of her head. “Billy, you go into the convenience store and get the security feed. Amy and I will block off traffic from entering the parking area. We’ll tell the sheriff the store operator was giving you a hard time about the feed, and we’re keeping customers away until you get the feed. Amy, you turn my emergency lights on and have Deputy Bosnik turn hers on.” Dunne raised an index finger. “That’s my

plan, Detective Tucker.” Amy grinned. “Works for Billy and me. We used that tactic once before. Right, Billy?” “And it worked,” said Billy. “I’m going into the store now because here comes the sheriff.” Billy pointed to the street. Pickens SUV was entering the parking lot. “I’ve got this,” said Dunne and headed for the sheriff’s SUV. When she approached, Pickens rolled the window down. “Sheriff, turn your flashers on and angle across the lot.” Pickens squinted his eyes. Dunne then explained the situation and her plan, and Pickens followed her instructions. Pickens exited his SUV and glanced over at Noseby sitting in his vehicle. “What’s he doing here?” “He just showed up out of nowhere,” said Dunne. “Detective Tucker and I were thinking of using him.” Dunne then told Pickens of her and Amy’s plan. “But it’s up to you, Sheriff.” Pickens rubbed his chin. “You and Amy are obviously on top of the situation. I’ll defer to both of you. Let’s go see how your plan works.” Dunne breathed a sigh of relief. Amy waited as Pickens and Dunne approached. “So, Amy, Detective Dunne explained what happened. She says you two have a plan.” Amy nodded. Behind Pickens, Dunne grinned. “I’m okay with it, but next time both of you answer your phones. Am I clear?” Amy scrunched her eyes. She was confused and had expected a tirade from Pickens. Maybe because they were in public, perhaps because Dunne was there, or because of Pickens’s father in the hospital, he had mellowed. Whatever the reason, Amy accepted it. “Yes, sir,” said Amy and Dunne together. “Good,” said Pickens and nodded his head. “Let’s see what Billy got.”

As they approached the entrance to the convenience store, Billy came out. “Guess who the clerk is?” he said. Pickens gave him an incredulous stare. Amy did a double take. “It’s Brenda.” Billy held up a thumb drive. “She gave me access to the security feed, and I made a copy.” Pickens had no idea who Brenda was, but Amy knew her from the Park Avenue convenience store. “I checked the feed, and just as on the others, the assailant wore a hoodie. I’ll try and see if I can get a face off of something when I’m back at my desk.” Billy hunched his shoulders. “Sorry. It’s the best I can do.” “How many other feeds are there?” asked Pickens. “Four, possibly five,” said Billy. “With that many, you’d better get something we can use,” said Pickens. “If it’s the same assailant, it seems he or she has escalated to murder.” Pickens stared at Amy and Dunne. “With two detectives, you two had better have some idea of what’s happening...other than three crime scenes.” “We do,” said Amy. “Detective Dunne has one.” She tilted her head at Dunne. “Tell him, since the last two happened in Warfield.” “Actually,” said Dunne, “the idea came from Corporal Jackson. He suggested the assailants might be a hit-and-run gang of teenagers. It’s a good theory, and they may be targeting seniors since so far that’s who the victims have been.” Pickens rubbed his chin, mulling it over. “It’s better than nothing, and I like it. Is Nosey part of it too?” “Yes,” said Dunne. “Amy suggested we give him an exclusive that we think teenagers may be behind the attacks and let him run with it.” Dunne then explained Amy’s theory about other teenagers being aware and possibly coming forward with information. “Not a bad idea,” said Pickens. “You two handle it.” Amy and Dunne looked confused. “I’m going back to the hospital. I trust you both. If you need me, call.” Pickens raised an index finger. “But I suggest while you’re at it, check if the Brantley brothers were in school today and if they had access to a motorcycle.” Pickens stepped away from the scene, walked to his SUV, and left. Amy and Dunne narrowed their eyes. They were again confused by Pickens’s

actions. “I don’t understand what just happened,” said Dunne. “I don’t either,” said Amy. “I guess he’s not himself because of his father’s condition.” “You think maybe his father’s condition has worsened?” asked Dunne. “It’s not like him to walk away from a crime scene abruptly.” “I’d bet that’s what it is,” said Billy. “What’s with the Brantley brothers?” “They shot Pickens in Warfield as he came out of Ellison’s office,” said Dunne. “If he hadn’t been lenient, they both would be in jail. Instead, they got a light sentence, mostly supervised probation.” “I was surprised they didn’t get more,” said Amy. “The sheriff was pressured by his wife, Nudley, Ellison, and others for leniency. Trust me, he didn’t want to be lenient.” “I’m sure he didn’t,” said Amy. “I wouldn’t have been.” “Me neither,” said Billy. “What about you, Detective Dunne?” Dunne looked over where Noseby was. “Doesn’t matter now. Let’s go talk to Nosey.” They approached Noseby’s vehicle. “Hold on, detectives,” said Noseby. “I have a right to be here, and I’m not interfering.” “We didn’t say you were, Nosey,” said Amy. Nosey was the nickname ascribed to Noseby because he was always into someone else’s business. “How’d you know we’d be here?” “I’m a reporter, Amy, and I know things.” Amy pursed her lips and said, “Yeah, right. Out with it, Nosey.” “I was at Murgdon’s to pick up something when I saw the commotion. After you all left, I followed Billy here.” The reporter grinned. “You have a story for me,

Amy?” “We do. Step out of your vehicle, and Detective Dunne will give you a scoop.” The reporter got out of his vehicle and removed a pad from his jacket pocket and a pencil from his ear. The reporter’s modus operandi was to dress like Jimmy Olsen, the reporter in Superman comics. “Okay, I’m ready.” Dunne briefly explained the two incidents and their theory about possible teenagers. Noseby took copious notes. “The victim at Murgdon’s died,” said Dunne, “but the one here survived and is at the hospital. Don’t even think about going there. Sheriff Pickens is there, and he won’t be pleased if you do.” The reporter shook his head, “I won’t. I want this story.” “Good,” said Dunne. “Here’s what we want you to write. You can say two heinous crimes happened that resulted in one dead and one injured. You can also say we believe a gang of teenagers is behind the crimes, and we’d like anyone with information to call either Detective Tucker or me.” Dunne gave the reporter both their phone numbers. “We’re not giving you the victims’ names under Marsy’s Law.” Marsy’s Law, named for a murder victim, was adopted in Florida in 2018. It protects the rights of victims, especially from the accused. “I understand,” said the reporter. “You’ve got all you need, Nosey,” said Amy. “Now, go do what you do. We need your article to get us leads.” “I’ll do my best, Amy. Thanks, Detective Dunne.” Dunne nodded. After the reporter left, Dunne asked, “You think it will work, Amy?” “I hope so. We need something before JD gets on our asses.” Dunne grinned. “Since I’ve already started a board, why don’t I update it with today’s info? I’ll email you a picture.”

“Works for me. If Billy gets anything from those security feeds, let me know.” “Will do.”

CHAPTER 11

WHEN PICKENS ARRIVED at the hospital, his mother was slumped over one side of the bed. Dr. Smathers was on the opposite side checking the monitors. Marge was sitting in the back of the room. His father was still hooked to the ventilator and, looking lifeless, caused a burning in his stomach. Pickens clutched his arms to his stomach. Marge stood and was about to approach him when Dr. Smathers turned and acknowledged the sheriff with a nod. Dr. Smathers pressed a finger to her lips and nodded toward Pickens’s mother, indicating she was asleep. Next, she approached Pickens and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t disturb her, JD. Your father’s okay. You can go near him.” “Thanks.” He approached the bedside. Dr. Smathers nodded for Marge to follow her. Once outside the room, she said, “I’m concerned about JD, Marge.” “So am I.” “He’s not the confident quarterback I once knew, and he doesn’t seem like the guy who could always charm the ladies in high school, college, and after.” Dr. Smathers wasn’t smiling. “I think his father’s condition has knocked the spark out of him. Has he talked to anyone yet?” “You noticed too? I made an appointment for him with Phyllis Wainwright, but he hasn’t seen her yet.” “Is he back on the job?” “He was until his father’s condition changed.” Marge pursed her lips. “Maybe I shouldn’t have called him and had him come back here. I thought I was doing the right thing, b—” Dr. Smathers placed her hand on Marge’s shoulder. “You did,” she said. “If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have forgiven you. I’ll try to get him to get back on the job by assuring him his father’s condition is okay and he doesn’t have to be here. It’s

enough that his mother is.” “Thanks. You know, for an old girlfriend, you’re still a good friend.” Marge grinned. “I’m glad JD’s father is in your hands.” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Thanks, Marge. That’s the nicest thing any of JD’s old girlfriends has ever said to me.” Marge smiled. “You’re welcome, and I mean it. Want to hug?” Dr. Smathers shrugged. “What the hell.” Without waiting, Dr. Smathers hugged Marge. “Thanks,” said Marge. “I wish there was something I could do for JD.” Dr. Smathers raised an index finger. “I have an idea. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She reached for her phone and stepped away. Pickens stepped out of the room. He shook his head and looked forlorn. “I wish there were something I could do. I hate standing around like this.” Marge put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “You’re doing something, JD. You’re here for your dad. So is your mom.” “I know.” He looked into the room. “But look at my mom. She’s exhausted and has been here since the beginning.” “It’s what a loving wife does, JD.” Marge smiled. “I’d do the same for you.” Pickens smiled. “You already have, and we haven’t been married for over fifty years like my parents have been.” “Yes, but we will be someday. I promise you, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.” Pickens grabbed her hand. “Me too.” Dr. Smathers approached, smiling. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m glad you’re here, JD.” Pickens narrowed his eyes as if thinking, Of course I’m here. Dr. Smathers ignored his look of confusion and continued, “One of today’s victims is down

the hall. He...let’s just say he was the lucky one. But he has a fractured shoulder blade like your dad.” Pickens glanced at his father in bed with the same injury. “He’ll wear a sling as you did, but it will be almost two months before he can remove it. I’m keeping him in the hospital a week because I don’t trust him to rest at home.” Pickens was still looking at his father and ignoring Dr. Smathers. “I thought maybe you would want to interview him since you’re both here.” Pickens acted as if he hadn’t heard her and continued looking at his father. Marge slapped him on his back. His head jerked back. “Snap out of it, JD,” said Marge, “and start acting like a sheriff.” Pickens’s eyes bulged. “Go interview the man or I’ll call Amy and have her come here to do it.” Marge reached for her phone. Pickens glanced at his father, then Dr. Smathers, and then Marge. “I mean it, JD.” “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.” “Fine,” snapped Marge. “Fine,” said Pickens. “Don’t worry, JD,” said Dr. Smathers. “The nurse will alert me if there’s any change in your father’s condition. And Marge will be here.” Pickens looked bemused. “Follow me.” Pickens followed Dr. Smathers and looked over his shoulder at Marge. She gave him a stern look. He couldn’t believe what Marge had done. As Pickens and Dr. Smathers approached the latest victim’s room, Dr. Smathers said, “He may be a little groggy from the pain medication, but he’s lucid. His wife might be defensive and not want you interrogating him, so go slow, JD.” Pickens clenched his jaw. “I know how to talk to a witness, Elaine, and I know not to upset a patient in the hospital, especially an elderly one. Let me do my job.” Dr. Smathers recoiled and raised her palms. “Just letting you know. I’ll mind my own business. Now, if you’ll follow me, Sheriff Pickens, I’ll introduce you to my patient.” Pickens ignored her and followed her into the patient’s room. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Svenson. How is the patient?”

“Good afternoon, Dr. Smathers,” said Mrs. Svenson. “He’s resting but eager to go home.” “You would be too, honey, if you had to be stuck in bed...for how long, Doctor?” said Mr. Svenson. “Who’s this guy?” Mr. Svenson nodded at Pickens. Pickens was about to introduce himself, but Dr. Smathers stepped in front of him so he couldn’t. She wasn’t about to let Pickens interrogate her patient yet. “This is Sheriff Pickens, Mr. Svenson. He would like to ask you a few questions if you’re up to it. He won’t keep you long.” Behind her, Pickens steamed. “As long as it’s just a few. No more.” “I promise it won’t be more,” said Dr. Smathers and stepped aside. “Sheriff Pickens, please keep it brief.” Pickens breathed. “I will, Dr. Smathers.” She nodded her permission. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Svenson. I promise I have only a few questions. By any chance, did you see your assailant?” Mr. and Mrs. Svenson looked at each other. Mrs. Svenson nodded. “I only got a brief look at her,” said Mr. Svenson. “Her?” asked Pickens. “Yes. I’ve got a black belt in karate and can sense someone sneaking up on me. Guess it was a good thing I did. After the first blow hit me, I turned and protected my head with my arms just in time, or she would have crushed my skull.” Mr. Svenson breathed. “Take your time, Mr. Svenson,” said Dr. Smathers. “If it’s too much for you, the sheriff can come back another time.” She couldn’t see Pickens purse his lips out of frustration with her. “No, I can do this,” said Mr. Svenson. “I just want to get it over with. Like I said, Sheriff, as I turned and protected my head, I got a quick glimpse of her face under that thingamajig she was wearing. Sorry, that’s all I can tell you, Sheriff.” Pickens grinned and raised his palm. “Don’t apologize, Mr. Svenson. You’ve given me plenty. I won’t take any more of your time.” Pickens nodded at both

Mr. and Mrs. Svenson, then stepped around Dr. Smathers and left the room. After thanking the Svensons, Dr. Smathers ed Pickens in the hall and asked, “Was he helpful, Sheriff Pickens?” Pickens grinned. “Yes, Dr. Smathers, he was.” He raised both palms. “Okay, I apologize for snapping at you. Can we stop with the formality now?” “If you’d like, Sheriff Pickens.” “Come on, Elaine, I apologized. Isn’t that enough?” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Hmm, maybe I should make you kiss me.” She scrunched her face and shook her head. “No, maybe not. Marge wouldn’t like that.” She hunched her shoulders. “Okay, I accept your apology, JD.” Pickens nodded his head. “Thank you, Elaine.” He raised an index finger. “Now, tell me whose idea this little play-acting thing was, yours or Marge’s?” Dr. Smathers grinned. “Mine, and it worked, didn’t it?” “It worked, and it was a good idea. Thanks.” “Good,” she said. “Now, will you stop being an asshole and get back to being a sheriff?” Pickens brows hiked. “Okay, that was Marge’s idea, wasn’t it?” “I’ll never tell. What happens in the hospital stays in the hospital.” Pickens shook his head. Marge waited as they approached her. “How did the interrogation go, Sheriff Pickens?” Pickens pursed his lips. “Okay, knock it off. I got the message, Mrs. Pickens. I was an asshole, but now I’m the sheriff.” Pickens couldn’t see Dr. Smathers behind him as she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Good. And there’s no need for your presence here. Your mom is here, and I’ll stay here. If there is any change, I’ll call you. Go do your thing, JD.”

“But what about you? Don’t you have to be at the morgue for the autopsy of the victim who didn’t survive?” “Tom can handle it. If he needs me, he’ll call.” “What about Sarah? Who will get her?” “I’ll call Liana and ask her to get her. When you’re finished being the sheriff, you can get her and come get me.” “Pardon my interruption,” said Dr. Smathers. “Maybe a visit from your daughter would be good for your father, JD. It helped last time.” “Are you sure it’s okay?” asked Pickens. Dr. Smathers hunched her shoulders. “It’s worth a try.” “We’ve got a plan, JD,” said Marge. “Now let’s act on it.” Pickens saluted both women. “On it, doctors.” Before leaving, Pickens asked Dr. Smathers to text him a number for Mr. Svenson and his age.

CHAPTER 12

AFTER HE LEFT the hospital, Pickens drove to the sheriff’s office. He arrived just after Amy and Billy did. Amy was updating the board, and Billy was reviewing the security feeds from the last two incidents. Amy had written 1/7/2019 Murgdon’s H&FS and Prentiss Ave conv. store with 1 dead, 1 alive. Also, both victims’ names were listed as Unknown. Because of the murder, it was now a murder board. “You can add Svenson as the name of the convenience store victim,” said Pickens. Amy stiffened. Billy’s jaw dropped. “JD,” said Amy, “what are you doing here? I thought you’d still be at the hospital.” “There’s nothing I can do there. My dad’s still in a coma, and Marge is with my mom. If anything changes, she’ll call me.” Pickens pointed to the board. “I interviewed Mr. Svenson at the hospital.” He told them about his conversation with Svenson and that the victim had said it was a girl who’d attacked him. Amy wrote Victim Svenson and Suspect girl under the convenience store incident. “Maybe Svenson is our karate guy,” said Billy. “File that away for now, Billy,” said Pickens. “He would have told me when I interviewed him.” “But a girl?” said Amy. “That doesn’t agree with what a witness said. He said it was a guy based on how he ran and carried the baseball bat.” “Hold on,” said Billy, who was looking at his monitor. “It also doesn’t agree with what’s on the convenience store security feed.” He rotated the monitor so Pickens and Amy could see it. “That looks like a nightstick, not a baseball bat.” “It also doesn’t agree with what he said about how the guy carried it,” said Amy. “Like a guy, not a girl.”

“Both a girl and a guy would carry a baton the same way,” said Pickens, “especially if they were in a relay race, like on the high school track team.” Billy was pounding on his keyboard. “Got it,” he said. “I googled the high school sports site and got pictures of the track teams—boys and girls.” He printed copies of both. “Maybe Mr. Svenson might recognize one of the girls.” “I’ll ask him next time I’m at the hospital,” said Pickens. “But I won’t rush him. He needs to heal.” “If it was a girl,” said Amy, “that would go with our theory about teenagers committing the attacks. We gave Nosey that info.” She explained what she and Dunne told the reporter to write. “Maybe someone’s conscience will bother them, and they’ll come forward.” “Let’s hope so,” said Pickens. “Even a teenager who knows something and speaks up would help.” He scratched his chin, pondering something, then pointed an index finger. “I have an idea. I’ll ask the football coaches if they’ve heard anything and if they’ll talk to the track coaches. Anything is worth trying.” “Too bad we don’t know who Lexi, the 911 caller, is from the first incident,” said Billy. “She might be able to give a description...or at least if the assailant was male or female.” Pickens brow hiked. “What about her telephone number? Can’t you trace it?” Billy pursed his lips. “I tried calling the number, but it’s out of service.” He breathed a heavy sigh. “For some reason, she doesn’t want to be located.” Billy shook his head. “I guess as she said in her 911 call, she doesn’t want to get involved.” “At least she made the call,” said Amy. Pickens glanced at his father’s incident on the board and was glad someone had called 911. He felt a knot in his stomach, wondering what would have happened if no one had made the emergency call. “Yeah, thank goodness she did,” he said. “I’ll continue reviewing the security feeds. Maybe I’ll see something I missed.” While Pickens and Amy were going over the cases, Dunne did some

investigating of her own. She called her husband and asked him to call the high school to check on the Brantley brothers’ attendance. She also knew where they would be after school. As part of their sentence for shooting Pickens, they had to do mandatory supervised community service. Dunne drove to the elementary school to observe the Brantley brothers. If they weren’t there, they would be violating their sentence and subject to arrest. She had already checked to see if their parents or the brothers owned a motorcycle. Neither of the four did. As Dunne pulled into the school parking lot, her phoned chirped. It was her husband calling. “You have news for me, honey?” “I do, Mia. Both brothers were in school today. They should be at the elementary school painting the buildings.” “I’m in the parking lot, and I see them. Thanks for helping.” Satisfied the Brantley brothers weren’t today’s assailants, Dunne called Amy. At the sheriff’s office, Amy answered her phone. “Detective Dunne, what’s up?” “I’m at the elementary school. The Brantley brothers are painting the buildings, and both were in school today. I have it on good authority. They weren’t today’s assailants.” “Thanks. I’ll cross them off as possible suspects. Do they own a motorcycle?” “No,” replied Dunne and told Amy she had checked. After Dunne’s call, Amy briefed Pickens on Dunne’s findings. “That lets them off the hook for today,” said Pickens. “But I wouldn’t rule them out for good. Keep them as persons of interest for now.” Amy wrote POIs—Brantley bros. on the board.

CHAPTER 13

THE REST OF the week went by without an incident. Billy was still trying to identify the assailants off the security feeds, ID karate guy, and locate Lexi. Amy and Dunne were in a holding pattern until Billy discovered something. Pickens had a session with Phyllis Wainwright, who advised him to take some time for himself. She suggested he go fishing. Saturday morning, Pickens and family were having breakfast. He had wanted to go fishing with Leroy Jones, but Leroy said not until Sunday morning. Sarah had been pestering Pickens and Marge to take her to the hospital to visit her grandparents. Pickens gave in and agreed to take her after breakfast. “But just for a little while, Sarah,” said Marge. “And no tantrums when it’s time to leave.” Sarah’s eyes were wide and glowing. “Yippee!” she said. “Hear that, Bailey? I’m going to visit Gramma and Grandpa.” Bailey rose on his hindlegs and did a whirl around. “I wish you could come too.” “Another time,” said Pickens. “For now, let’s clean off the table and get ready to go. I’ll help.” Marge stood. “No, JD, I’ll take care of it. You’ve broken enough dishes.” Pickens pointed a finger at his chest. “Who me? You sure you have the right husband?” “Ha-ha. Very funny. Yes you. Both of you go wash up, and I’ll clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Then I’ll wash up, and we can go.” Pickens and Sarah left the kitchen and went to wash up. Marge later followed. Pickens and family piled into his SUV, and he drove to the hospital. After checking the parking lot, they went into the hospital. Sarah barged past the receptionist and went right to the elevator. Pickens was hot on her tail. Marge smiled and shrugged at the receptionist, who tsked and shook

her head. The elevator door opened, and Sarah rushed out with her arms flailing and went right to her grandfather’s room. Jeanette sat at Russell’s bedside, reading to him. Pickens placed his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Don’t disturb Grandma,” he said. Sarah waited as Marge ed them. Suddenly aware of their presence, Jeanette put the book down and stood. “Hi, Gramma,” said Sarah. “What were you reading?” Jeanette placed her hands on her cheeks and smiled. “Sarah, honey, come give me a hug.” Sarah wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “What were you reading?” “The Bible. Your grandfather often reads it. A volunteer gave it to me.” “Can I sit and listen to you read it?” “Yes, and your parents can listen too.” Jeanette pointed to the seats in the rear of the room. Pickens gave Sarah a chair then he and Marge sat. Jeanette began reading. Marge leaned over and whispered in Pickens’s ear. “It’s nice to see Sarah listen to your mother.” Pickens whispered back, “It reminds me of when I was a boy and my parents read the Bible on Sundays, and before I went to bed at night. I listened just like Sarah.” Pickens felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, saw Dr. Smathers, and was about to stand. She shook her head, gently held him in place, and leaned down. “Can you see the monitors from here?” she whispered. He focused his attention on the monitors. “What am I looking for?” Marge also focused on the monitors. Softly, Dr. Smathers said, “His blood pressure and heart rate are slightly spiking.”

“What’s that mean?” “It means your father is responding to stimuli.” Pickens looked puzzled. “I still don’t understand.” “JD,” whispered Marge, “it means your mom and Sarah are affecting your dad.” “Which means,” said Dr. Smathers, “he’s aware of their presence. It’s a sign he is starting to come out of the coma. Not immediately, but soon. We still have to be patient.” “Would it help if Sarah stayed with my mom most of the day? We can come back and get her. Or if it’s possible to stay overnight? What do you think, Marge?” “I’ll defer to Elaine, but either way is okay with me.” “I can arrange for a cot if you want her to stay overnight. But I can’t promise anything.” Pickens looked across the room at his mother and daughter then at Marge. “We can discuss it later,” said Marge. “But Sarah can stay the day.” “They look so peaceful,” said Dr. Smathers. “Why don’t we step out and discuss it over coffee?” Pickens glanced around uneasily. “What do you think, Marge?” “I could use a cup of coffee.” “Good,” said Dr. Smathers. “Let’s go to the cafeteria.” They ordered coffee, found an empty table, and sat. Marge took a sip of her coffee, as did Dr. Smathers. After Pickens sat, Marge said, “We need to discuss whether Sarah should stay for the day or overnight. What do you think, JD?” “If Elaine thinks it would help, I think we should let her stay overnight.”

“It can’t hurt,” said Dr. Smathers. “Say the word, and I’ll order a cot for her.” “Order the cot,” said Pickens. “We’ll come by tomorrow and get her.” “Done,” said Dr. Smathers and checked her watch. “I’m afraid I have to leave. I have patients to see.” She winked at Marge. “Dr. Davids, it’s been a pleasure. JD, always a pleasure. what I said: be patient.” She placed her hand on Pickens’s shoulder. “He’ll come out of the coma when he’s ready.” Pickens grinned. “Thanks, Elaine.” Dr. Smathers smiled and left. Pickens grabbed Marge’s hand. “Thanks, Marge, for being here for me.” Marge grinned. “Anytime.” Both stood and left the cafeteria, holding hands. When they entered Pickens’s father’s room, Sarah was seated next to his mother, who had an arm around her granddaughter. They were taking turns reading from the Bible. “I hate to disturb them,” said Pickens. “Just tell your mom we’re leaving and will come back for Sarah in the morning. I’m sure she’ll be happy.” “Mom,” said Pickens softly so as not to frighten her. Jeanette stopped reading. “Yes, JD?” “Marge and I are leaving. We have things to do. Is it okay if Sarah stays the night with you?” Both Jeanette and Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Thank you, JD.” She smiled, and Pickens’s heartbeat raced. It was like when he used to come home from school and his mother greeted him with her warm smile. “Thanks, Mom and Dad,” said Sarah. “Will you two be okay without me?” Pickens and Marge smiled. “I think we can manage for one night,” said Marge. “We’ll see you two in the morning.” Pickens and Marge blew his mother and their daughter kisses and left the room.

After leaving the hospital and crossing the parking lot, Pickens asked, “Now what do we do? I could go to the office and see what’s happening.” “No office. We’ll have lunch and then go to your parents’ house. We have things to do there.” She glared at him. Pickens face turned ashen from fear. “I know that look. You’re daring me to say no.” After lunch, Marge picked up dirty clothes, put them in the washing machine, and did a laundry load. Pickens put the dirty dishes from New Years’ Day in the dishwasher. Marge packed a cloth shopping bag with a change of clothes, underwear, and toothbrush for Jeanette and another shopping bag for dirty clothes. She also grabbed a bag off the floor of the living room and flung it over her shoulder. Pickens took Bailey for a long walk when they got home to take his mind off his father. Then he wrestled with the dog in the living room. It was something he had done with Bailey when the dog was a puppy. Pickens lay down on the couch, and Bailey ed him. They fell asleep together, and Marge covered them with a light blanket just as she had when Bailey was a puppy.

CHAPTER 14

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING, Pickens and Leroy were on the river in Pickens’s boat. The river was cold to the touch, and its surface was like a mirror. After they stowed their gear, both men grabbed their fishing poles, baited them, and cast the lines into the water. They sat back and waited for a nibble. “How’s your dad, JD?” Leroy had waited until they’d settled in the boat before inquiring. Pickens closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “He’s still in a coma.” “How are you and your mom dealing with it?” Leroy had known Pickens’s parents since he and Pickens were in high school and had often spent summer nights at their house. Pickens rocked back and forth. Leroy’s question made him feel overwhelmed. “Honestly, buddy,” Pickens muttered, “I’m having a hard time with it. I hate seeing my dad in that hospital bed. Mom’s been there every day at his bedside.” Pickens reeled in his line, then cast again. Leroy did the same. “I wish I could do something. And what if my dad...” As the minister of the Shady Grove AME church, Leroy occasionally had to counsel parishioners in their hour of grief. Leroy reeled in his line and checked it for bait. “Don’t go there, JD. You know he won’t. Look, you can’t do anything for your dad, but you can for your mom. Just being there for her is doing something. You have to be her rock now just as your dad was.” Leroy cast his line out again. Pickens took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m trying, Leroy, but it’s rough.” “I’m sure it is, but you can do it. Just be patient. Do you what your dad told you after you sustained your career-ending injury at FSU?” Pickens exhaled. “Yeah. He said, ‘get off your ass, JD, and get in the game.’ He also told me to find another career and pushed me to finish college and go to law

school.” Leroy grinned. “And he stood with you when you decided to give up being a lawyer and became a sheriff’s deputy. So, as your spiritual advisor, I’m telling you to quit whining and get back in the game.” Pickens looked baffled. “Spiritual advisor? Is that what you are now?” “Yes. What did you do when you were shot and in the hospital?” Pickens gave a tug on his line. “I had my two detectives work their cases with the help of two retired homicide detectives. Without telling Marge, I kept tabs on them through conference calls until I could get into the office. Then I coached them from the sideline.” Leroy nodded his head. “Why can’t you do that now?” “From this boat?” Leroy smiled. “Yes. Jump in the river and swim ashore. I’ll get the boat to the marina when I finish fishing.” Pickens brow furrowed. “Funny, but I get your message.” “Be the quarterback I once knew who defied the coach and called an audible, then threw the touchdown that won the game and a state championship.” “In other words, get off my ass and get back in the game.” “Exactly. Tell me how the case is going. I heard there had been several attacks.” “Four, to be exact. All on senior citizens. We suspect the assailants might be a gang of teenagers.” Leroy turned and faced Pickens, then narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Teenagers? Are you sure?” “Yeah. One of the victims said his assailant was a teenage girl. Any chance you could ask around at your youth groups?” “I’ll see what I can do.” Both their lines tightened as if they had caught

something. “We’ve got something, JD.” “Let’s reel them in and see who caught the bigger fish.” Both reeled in their catch, but neither was bigger than the other’s. It seems whenever they fished together, neither caught a bigger fish. They placed the fish in the cooler to keep them fresh. Leroy reached under his seat and pulled out a thermos of coffee. “Coffee, JD?” “Sure.” Leroy set his pole between his legs, reached under his seat again, brought out two cups, filled one for Pickens, and handed it to him, then filled the other and took a sip. “So your theory is the muggers are teenagers?” Pickens took a sip of coffee and replied, “I don’t have a theory. It’s Billy’s, and Amy and Dunne agree with it.” Pickens then explained Billy’s theory, including Mr. Svenson’s suggestion his assailant was a girl. Leroy cast his line out, and Pickens did the same. Both had set their coffee on the bottom of the boat before doing it, then reached for their cups and took a sip. Leroy scrunched his lips in thought. “I’m not sure if I can help you, JD. I’m at the youth center only one day a week. But I’ll ask around and have the counselors keep their ears open for anything that might be useful.” “Thanks, buddy. Anything would be helpful. How long should we stay on the river?” Leroy checked his watch. “It’s Sunday, and I have to be at church. How about one more fish? Whoever catches it buys the loser the next cup of coffee. But no longer than an hour.” “You’re on.” Thirty minutes later, Leroy caught a fish. He put it in the cooler and handed the

thermos to Pickens, who poured them each a cup of coffee. “ what I said, JD.” “I heard you. Get my ass in the game. Thanks, buddy.” Leroy nodded. After putting their poles in the boat, Pickens started the motor and headed for the marina. After he docked the boat, Pickens drove Leroy home; then he went home. After Pickens had showered and dressed, he and Marge ate a light lunch. “Are you ready to go to the hospital?” asked Pickens. “Yes, but first we have to stop at your parents’ house. You can unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away.” She glared at him. “And don’t break any.” “Who, me?” “Yes, you. I’ll unload the washing machine and fold the laundry. Then we can go straight to the hospital.” After finishing up at his parents’ house, Pickens and Marge headed for the hospital to see his parents and get Sarah. During the drive, Marge asked, “So how was your morning on the boat with Leroy?” Pickens smiled. “It was relaxing. We caught a few fish and...” She shook her head and said, “And...what?” Pickens exhaled. “Leroy offered some advice like my dad would have.” “He told you to get off your ass and get in the game, didn’t he?” Pickens took a deep breath. “Yeah...Sort of like what you told me.” “And what are you going to do with the advice? Sit on it or use it?” He took a long exhale. “Monday after my appointment with Dr. Weinstein, I’m going into the sheriff’s office and act like a sheriff. I’ll lead my team as I’m

supposed to, and together we’ll solve the cases.” He slapped the steering wheel. “That’s what I’m gonna do.” “Woo-hoo!” yelled Marge. “Now, that’s my quarterback. You go knock those assailants on their asses.” Pickens’s head snapped back. “Uh...where did that come from, wide receiver?” “Where it’s always been,” she said and gave him a naughty smile. “Damn. It’s a good thing we’re in the hospital parking lot or I’d lose control of the SUV. I’d better hurry up and park so we can get into the hospital before something happens.” She gave him a naughty grin. “Wait until tonight. Then it will.” Pickens parked, got out of the SUV, checked the parking lot, grabbed Marge’s hand, and they walked into the hospital. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Pickens,” said the receptionist. “I hope your dad is doing better, Sheriff.” Pickens nodded, and Marge said, “Thank you.” When they got to his father’s room, both stood in the doorway watching Jeanette and Sarah reading the Bible to Pickens’s father. Jeanette stopped and said, “You keep reading, Sarah. I’ll be right back.” She stood and beckoned Pickens to her. He approached, and she said softly, “Take my place, JD. Read with Sarah while I talk to Marge.” Pickens sat next to his daughter, put an arm around her, smiled, and began taking turns reading. “Would you go with me for coffee, Marge? I could use a break.” “I’d love to. Let me put these bags down.”. “What’s in them?” “A change of clothes and a new toothbrush. I thought you’d want them.” Marge glanced at Pickens.

Jeanette winked. “I could sure use a new toothbrush.” It was code for a fresh set of underwear. Marge set the bags on the small table. “I also brought your tote bag with your knitting supplies. I thought you might want them.” Jeanette placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, thank you. Now I have something else to do.” They left the room, and Jeanette asked, “If you don’t mind, I don’t want to go to the cafeteria. There’s coffee in the visitors’ lounge. Let’s go there.” Marge sensed a wariness in Jeanette and nodded. They headed to the visitors’ lounge, got coffee, and sat at an empty table. “How are you doing, Jeanette?” Jeanette stared down at her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were puffy. “Honestly?” Jeanette sniffled. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t made him go to the store, we’d both be home enjoying the new year.” Again she sniffled. “Instead of here watching Hallmark Christmas movies.” Marge put a hand on Jeanette’s. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s whoever did this to Russell, and JD will find the person who did it, and they’ll get justice.” Jeanette placed her hand over Marge’s. “I know he will, but God forgive me—” Marge felt Jeanette’s body tense—”I hope JD makes whoever it was pay dearly for hurting my Russell. no...matter what.” Marge knew it was unlike Jeanette to say something like that, but she understood how her mother-in-law felt. She had felt the same when Pickens got shot in the hospital parking lot and again in Warfield. But she had hidden her emotions, and no one knew how she really felt. Jeanette looked down to avoid Marge’s eyes, then placed a hand on her heart. “I didn’t mean that, Marge.” “I know you didn’t. JD will do what’s right.” “Yes, he always does. I’m glad you’re my daughter-in-law. You keep him grounded.”

“I try, and I’m glad you’re my mother-in-law.” Marge hoped she did try but knew sometimes it wasn’t easy. “Russell is lucky to have you to keep him grounded.” Jeanette giggled. “I try too, but it’s a difficult task. He’s so thickheaded.” “So is JD. Like father like son.” Both laughed. “Here you two are,” said Dr. Smathers, who had entered the lounge. “I went by Russell’s room, and I didn’t see either of you there.” “Maybe we should check on JD and Sarah,” said Jeanette. It was a subtle look, but Dr. Smathers caught it and knew Marge wanted to keep Jeanette in the lounge. “Oh, they’re okay. I checked. They’re reading the Bible.” Dr. Smathers gave Marge the same subtle look. Marge winked. “Let me get a cup of coffee and you. I could use a break.” Dr. Smathers got coffee, then sat. “I’ll freshen up our cups,” said Marge before Jeanette could object. Marge returned to the table, gave Jeanette her cup, and sat. “Isn’t this cozy?” said Dr. Smathers. “JD’s three favorite women.” She smiled. “His mother, his wife...” “His doctor and one of his old girlfriends,” said Jeanette. Dr. Smathers did a doubletake. “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Jeanette and swatted her hand. “I know all of JD’s old girlfriends, including Madeline, who works in the cafeteria.” All three women laughed. Marge was grateful her mother-in-law was getting relief from being a bedside nurse. It wasn’t much, but it was helpful. The three women engaged in lighthearted conversation about Pickens and his antics as a single man. Feeling less stressed, Jeanette jokingly said, “You know what would be good?” Marge’s and Dr. Smathers’s eyebrows hiked. “A shower in my own bathroom.” “JD won’t miss us if we go home and you take one,” said Marge. “Do you think so?”

“I’m sure he won’t,” said Dr. Smathers. “He and your granddaughter looked pleased to be reading to your husband.” “How would we get there?” asked Jeanette. “Do you have keys for his truck, Marge?” Dr. Smathers reached into her lab coat. “No need,” she said and placed a set of car keys on the table. “You can take my car.” “But—” said Jeanette. “No buts. Marge, take her home. As Russell’s doctor, I’m ordering a home shower for his wife.” “You can’t disobey the doctor’s orders,” said Marge and winked at Dr. Smathers. Jeanette glanced around the room as if looking for a second opinion. “Let’s go, Jeanette.” Jeanette smiled. “What the heck. Russell won’t miss me if I take a break. Let’s go before I change my mind.” “My car is in my designated parking space, Marge. If I’m with a patient when you return, leave the keys with the duty nurse.” “Thanks, Dr. Smathers,” said Marge. Dr. Smathers winked. “Let’s go, Jeanette.” Marge stood as did Jeanette, and both left the lounge as Dr. Smathers waved. When Marge and Jeanette returned to Russell’s room, Pickens and Sarah were sitting at the small table watching television. Russell’s condition hadn’t changed. “Uh-huh,” said Jeanette. “Just as I thought. You haven’t changed, JD. As soon as I leave you to yourself, you put the Bible down and turn the television on.” Pickens grimaced as he did when a kid. “What are you watching?” “A Florida State women’s basketball game,” said Sarah. “It’s really fun, Gramma.” “Uh-huh,” said Marge. “Who are they playing?” “Miami,” replied Pickens.

“That’s always a good rivalry game, isn’t it, JD?” asked Jeanette. “Not as big as in football. Sorry, Mom, we never took our eyes off Dad. You two were gone so long, we thought you wouldn’t mind if we watched TV.” Jeanette smiled. “It’s okay, JD, and thank you for cleaning my house and washing the dishes.” She pointed an index finger at him. “And you didn’t break any dishes.” She giggled. “That’s amazing.” “I helped too, Gramma,” said Sarah. “I know, and thank you, Sarah. Did you two have any lunch?” Before Pickens could make up a fib, Sarah blurted out, “We had hot dogs in the cafeteria.” “JD,” said Marge, “you didn’t!” Jeanette waved a hand. “It’s fine, Marge. I’m sure they weren’t there too long.” She glared at Pickens. “Right, JD?” “Uh, yeah. Just long enough to get the hot dogs.” “Uh-huh,” said Marge. “Okay, now,” said Jeanette, “why don’t you three go home and enjoy the rest of the day as a family? I can handle things here.” “But, Mom...” “No but.” Jeanette swatted a hand. “Go before I make you change your dad’s diaper.” Pickens and Marge’s eyes bulged. “Come on, Marge, let’s go. We’ve got things to do at home. You too, Sarah.” Sarah pursed her lips. “No pouting. Besides, you have homework to do.” Pickens raised a hand. “Don’t argue.” Pickens wrapped his arms around his mother. “Thanks. I love you, Mom.” “I love you too. Now, go before I put on the classic movie channel.” Sarah and Marge hugged Jeanette; then Pickens and family left. At home,

Pickens and Sarah watched the rest of the basketball game. Bailey sat at Pickens’s feet so he could catch popcorn when Pickens tossed it to him. Later after dinner, Pickens decided to call Amy and arrange a conference call in the morning with her, Dunne, and Billy. He’d be there after an appointment he had to attend. “Was that necessary?” asked Marge. “Yes. If I’m going to start acting like the sheriff, then I have to begin acting as Sheriff JD Pickens does.” He smiled. “And now it’s time you started something in the bedroom.”

CHAPTER 15

MONDAY MORNING, PICKENS kept his appointment with Dr. Weinstein before going to the sheriff’s office. Amy and Billy waited for him and occupied their time by playing solitaire on their computers. Pickens finally arrived, walked past them, and said, “ Detective Dunne. Have her call me, then both of you in my office.” “Good—” Amy was about to greet him, but he ignored her and didn’t even glance at the board. As soon as Pickens sat at his desk, his landline rang. Amy and Billy entered his office, and he motioned for them to sit. He pressed speaker, thinking it was Dunne calling. “Pickens, what the hell is going on?” demanded Connie Dupree. “I read in the newspaper that you have a gang of teenagers terrorizing elderly men. Do you know what that means?” Pickens shook his head and didn’t respond. “It means the crime rate in the county is up 400 percent, and it’s only mid-January.” Pickens turned off the speaker, picked up the headset, and slammed it back in its cradle. Amy’s and Billy’s jaws dropped. The landline rang again, and Pickens answered. It was Dunne. “Sorry you had to wait, Detective Dunne. I’m gonna put you on hold a minute.” Without waiting for a response, Pickens pressed the hold button, then, using his second line, called Stacey, the dispatcher/emergency operator. “Yes, Sheriff?” said Stacey. “If Connie Dupree from the county commissioners’ office calls, tell her I was called to an emergency and take a message. Tell her my cell phone is off, and I’ll call her the first chance I get.” “Got it, Sheriff.”

Pickens hung up, then pressed speaker for the other line. “Sorry, Detective Dunn, I had to take care of a nuisance.” Amy’s and Billy’s eyebrows hiked from shock. “Now, before anyone asks, my dad’s still in a coma, my mom is at his side twenty-four-seven, and I’m dealing with it. So no questions. Understood?” He didn’t wait for replies. “What’s the latest on the cases?” “Did you see yesterday’s newspaper?” asked Amy. “No,” said Pickens angrily. “You know I don’t read the newspaper or watch the news. What about it?” Amy ignored his anger. “Nosey’s article was in it.” She didn’t wait for a response and continued. “He did a good job. Everything we told him, he put in it.” “And added some of his own,” said Dunne. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a few calls today.” “I wouldn’t be surprised either,” said Pickens. “I’ve got an appointment with the track coaches this afternoon. I’ll ask if any team were absent the day of the attacks. If there were, I’ll have the coaches point them out in the team pictures.” “Maybe you could show the picture of the girls to Mr. Svenson,” said Dunne. “He’s no longer in the hospital,” said Pickens, “but I’ve got a phone number for him. If I get something, I’ll call him.” “Maybe she wasn’t trying to injure Mr. Svenson severely,” said Dunne. “I agree,” said Amy. “That’s why she didn’t kill him. She just wanted to hurt him.” “I differ with both of you, detectives,” said Billy. “I think she wanted to, but Svenson prevented it. She’s what you call a psycho...whatever, Amy.” “It’s psychopath, Billy,” said Amy. “I don’t think she is. My guess is she had last-minute remorse and only wanted to injure Svenson, and his defensive actions prevented her from severely injuring him.”

Pickens was enjoying his deputies’ interactions. It had been a while since he’d witnessed them. “You’re saying she had buyer’s remorse, got a conscience, and changed her mind about killing Svenson? Is that what you’re suggesting?” asked Pickens. “If she did,” said Dunne, “then maybe she had second thoughts about participating in gang mentality. If so, then she might be willing to confess to her actions.” “That’s a strong possibility, in my opinion,” said Amy. “I hope you’re both right,” said Pickens. “Billy, any word on Lexi?” “No, and I’m still trying to identify the assailants in the security feed. I’ve tried zooming in to see if there’d be a reflection in the victims’ vehicles. So far nothing. How come we’re not talking about Mr. Doyle?” “Who’s Mr. Doyle?” asked Pickens. “He’s the victim killed at Murgdon’s Hardware and Farm Supplies,” said Dunne. “I’m sorry,” said Billy angrily. “These aren’t kids acting up. They’re thugs without a conscience, and when we catch them, they should be sent away for a long time and not juvie like the Brantley brothers were.” He got up and stormed out. “Corporal Thompson!” shouted Amy. “You—” Pickens lifted his hand. “Let him go, Amy. He’s frustrated that he hasn’t had any luck with the security tapes and feels like he’s not contributing. I didn’t help when I yelled at him that morning after I returned from vacation.” “But I should talk—” said Amy. “No, I’ll talk to him. It’s my job. Now, speaking of the Brantley brothers, what’s with them?” “They were in school the day of the attacks,” said Dunne. “They were also at their community service project after school. I verified it.”

“Which means,” said Pickens, “all we’ve got is Nosey’s newspaper article and my talk with the track team coaches, especially the girls’ coach.” “It’s a start,” said Amy. “Who knows. Maybe someone will call Detective Dunne or me.” “I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Pickens and took a deep breath. “I guess we had a productive meeting even though we didn’t accomplish anything. Detective Dunne, stay safe and if, you learn anything, let me know.” “Will do, Sheriff.” “Amy, find Billy and send him in. And don’t give him any grief.” Amy stood. “Who, me?” “Yeah, you. Now, get out of my office.” Moments after Amy left Pickens’s office, Billy entered. “You wanted to see me, Sheriff?” “Yes,” said Pickens and motioned for Billy to sit. “Sheriff, I’m sorry for—” Pickens held his hand up. “No need to apologize for anything, Billy. I’m sure you’re frustrated with those security tapes, and you feel as though you’re not contributing.” Billy opened his mouth to interrupt Pickens, but Pickens held his hand up. “The thing is, Billy, you are, and you’re an integral part of the team. We couldn’t do without you.” Pickens grinned. “You do those things with your computer that none of us could. You used your drone and found those bodies in that field, and you provided air coverage for Conlon’s funeral.” Billy sat back in his chair and looked more confident. “Actually, sir, it was my drone club. I attended the service.” Pickens ignored his interruption and continued. “You discovered the Buxtons were brother and sister before anyone.” Billy sat up straight and was about to speak. “It’s okay, Billy. I know about the arrangement you made with Marge. She told me about it.”

“She’s quite persuasive.” Pickens smiled. “Tell me about it. I’m married to her. Billy, I don’t want you to feel like you’re not helping, because you are. How about you and I look at those tapes together? Maybe we’ll see something.” “Actually, I did see something,” said Billy. Pickens looked perplexed. “Everyone has been so focused on calling the assailants teenagers that I didn’t get a chance to mention it.” “Mention what?” Pickens was clearly interested, and Billy had his attention. “Your dad’s attacker wasn’t a teenager. I could tell from the feed.” Pickens sat up straight. “Are you sure? Can we look at the feed now? Here in my office?” “We can, or we can look at it at my desk where I can enlarge the picture.” “Let’s do it here, and don’t tell Amy yet. This is between you and me.” “But—” “No, Billy, it’s between you and me only. Got it?” “Got it, Sheriff,” Billy said and stood. “I’ll get my laptop and be right back.” Pickens anxiously awaited Billy’s return. Maybe we’ve finally got something, he thought. Billy returned with his laptop, set it on the desk, and opened the security feed to the night of Pickens’s father’s attack. “If you look closely, Sheriff. You’ll see the attacker is too big to be a teenager.” “Unless he’s a lineman on the football team.” “That’s a possibility, but I think he’s a man. And watch how he swings the bat.” Pickens paid close attention to the movement. “He was intentionally trying to hurt my dad.” Pickens’s nostrils flared. “Or possibly kill him.”

“He might have if not for the vehicle that lit him up with its brights. But why your dad?” Pickens took two long breaths to calm himself. “Maybe he thought it was me. If so, how could he have known I would be there at that exact time?” “He couldn’t have. You were on vacation.” “Maybe my dad was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Pickens scratched the back of his head. “If that’s the case, then who was he after, and why?” “Maybe I should look closer at the Doyle feed. His assailant could be the same person. Should we let Amy know about this development?” Before Pickens could reply, Amy stepped in. “Excuse me, but I thought you should know. I just got off the phone with Big Al Octavio.” Pickens and Billy looked bewildered. “It had better be important, Amy,” said Pickens. Amy smiled. “It is. Big Al Octavio is Alice Octavio. It turns out karate guy is karate girl. She’s a former Green Beret, owns a landscape company, and is a part-time martial arts instructor. I convinced her to come in and look at the security feed. Maybe she’ll see something we didn’t. She’ll be here at four-thirty this afternoon. You want to sit in on it, JD?” “No. You and Billy handle it. Billy also found something.” Amy narrowed her eyes and looked confused. “He’ll tell you about it. You can bring me up to date in the morning. After I visit with the track coaches, I’m going to visit my dad.” He glanced at Billy. “You okay with that, Billy?” “Absolutely. Let’s go, Amy.” Billy stood and left the office with an air of confidence in front of Amy. She looked at Pickens, and he tilted his head in Billy’s direction. “I’m coming, Corporal Thompson.” Pickens sat back in his chair and put his boots up on the desk. He felt satisfied he had taken control and was back in the game. He felt so confident, he decided to call the county commission chairwoman on his cell phone.

“Connie,” he said, “it’s JD. Sorry I wasn’t available for your call.” “You bastard, JD. You hung up on me. I know you’re smiling, but you’ve never done that to me. Why now?” He sensed sadness in her voice. The last time he’d heard it was when he’d called and broken up with her. “I’m sorry, Connie. I didn’t mean to, but you interrupted an important conference call about the attacks.” “I forgive you, JD. God only knows why. Did the call mean you’re making progress?” “Yes, but I can’t talk about it. It’s an ongoing investigation.” “Are you serious? JD, I’m the chairwoman of—” “I know who you are, Connie, but I just can’t. And in case you didn’t know, one of the victims was my dad. He’s in the hospital in a coma.” “Oh shit. I’m sorry, JD. I didn’t know. Is he going to be okay?” “We’re taking it day by day. My mom is with him twenty-four-seven. I’m going there later after an appointment I have to go to. Are we okay, Connie?” He couldn’t see her frown. “Yeah. But don’t hang up on me ever again. I can handle anyone else doing it but not you.” “I promise I won’t. You be good, Connie.” “Good? Not me, JD. Never.”

CHAPTER 16

PICKENS MET WITH the track coaches outside by the football field that was surrounded by the track. It was easier and more private than if he met with them in the school. The varsity football coach was also in attendance in case Pickens needed help. The sheriff presented his request for information and why he needed it. Both coaches were skeptical and reluctant to help. Pickens decided to play the sympathy card. “Look,” said Pickens, “I understand your reluctance, but one of the victims was my dad. He’s in a coma, and I’d like your help.” The coaches looked at each other. “Give us a moment, Sheriff,” said the girls’ track coach. Pickens nodded and watched as the two coaches stepped away to confide. “They’ll help, JD,” said the football coach. “I bet at least one will. Which one do you prefer?” “Both, but right now, I’d be satisfied with the girls’ coach.” The two track coaches finished their conversation and ed Pickens and the football coach. “I’ll help,” said the girls’ coach. “He’s still considering it.” “That’s fine with me,” said Pickens. The girls’ coach ed the guidance counselor and asked for the names of any track who were absent on the day of the attacks. He had to call her back. Minutes later, the guidance counselor called back with three names and sent them to her phone. “Three girls were absent that day, Sheriff,” said the coach. “Give me your phone, and I’ll send them to it. Do you need pictures?” “I’ve got a printout of the team picture. Could you point them out to me?” He handed her the photo.

“These three,” said the coach, pointing to their pictures. “This one was on the cross-country team but quit suddenly with no explanation. She might be your best suspect. But I sure hope none of the three is.” “I do too,” said the boys’ coach. “Are we done here?” “Yes,” said Pickens. “Thank you both.” He said it graciously in case he needed the boys’ coach later. Pickens thanked the football coach, left the high school and drove to the hospital.

* * *

At four-thirty, Al Octavio, aka karate girl, was buzzed in, then went through the security gate. Jenny Robinson, Pickens’s part-time istrative assistant and receptionist, greeted her, then itted her into the sheriff’s office. It was a new position and procedure since the attack on the sheriff’s office last year by Parks and Teeks. Amy didn’t know what Octavio would look like because of the brief description she was given. The woman who approached her wasn’t who Amy had expected. Octavio didn’t look like someone who had just come from mowing lawns. She was slender with brown hair in a ponytail and wore a skin-tight gym outfit. Billy turned his head so she couldn’t see his eyes bulge. “Detective Tucker?” said Octavio. “I’m Big Al Octavio.” The woman smiled. “Little Al is at home with her father. Call me Al. You asked me to come in and look at a video.” Amy had a hard time taking her eyes off of Octavio. “Uh, yes.” Amy extended her hand, and Octavio gave it a firm handshake. “Not what you expected, is it?” said Octavio. “I get that all the time. Pleased to meet you, and you too, Deputy.” Octavio smiled at Billy. He turned his head and blushed. “So, where’s this video?”

Amy turned her head and coughed to hide her blush. “I apologize, Al. Meet Corporal Billy Thompson.” Both Billy and Octavio nodded. “He has the video on his computer. Billy, show it to her.” Billy opened the file with the video from the morning of Octavio’s attack at the Park Avenue convenience store and turned his computer so Octavio could watch it. “Is this what you want me to look at?” said Octavio. “It wasn’t even an attack. The kid was scared shitless. He came at me with a broken broomstick handle and didn’t even surprise me. I kicked him in the groin, and damn if he didn’t start to cry. What a wimp.” “Are you sure he was a kid and it wasn’t a baseball bat?” asked Amy. “That’s what I said, Detective, and I couldn’t see his face because of the hoodie. You need anything else?” “No. You’ve been very helpful, Al. Thanks for coming in.” “My pleasure. You two be careful, and thanks for your service.” “You too, Al.” Both Amy and Billy watched as Octavio left. “Damn,” said Billy. “Careful, Billy. But yeah, damn. I’m going to put that info on the board. We’ve got a boy and a girl so far.” “And a man—the one who attacked Mr. Pickens.” “There’s that,” said Amy. “I’m not ruling out a coincidence. There may be more to it. Let’s review the Doyle incident again.”

* * *

When Pickens arrived at his father’s hospital room, Russell was no longer wearing the nasal mask, instead, he had a cannula in his nose attached to a flowmeter. His mother was stroking his father’s hand and talking to him. “Amazing isn’t it?” said Dr. Smathers, who had walked up next to him. “One minute your mother was by his side knitting. The next minute your father opened his eyes and regained consciousness. I would have called you, but I wanted to be sure it wasn’t momentary.” “Is he fully conscious?” “Let’s go to the cafeteria, and I’ll explain it to you. I don’t want to disturb your parents.” Pickens followed Dr. Smathers. They got cups of coffee and sat at a table. “Tell me what happened, Elaine.” She took a sip of coffee and waited while he did the same. “Your mom was remarkable, JD. She didn’t panic. She pressed the call light, and fortunately, I was at the nearby nurses’ station. I checked on your dad. He was awake but unaware of his surroundings.” “Did he panic?” “No, he was calm. I let your mom talk to him while I checked his vitals.” “Will I be able to talk to him?” Dr. Smathers pursed her lips. “Not yet, JD. He’s conscious but experiencing post-traumatic amnesia.” Pickens narrowed his eyes. “It sounds confusing, but it’s normal when a patient first awakens from a coma.” “How long will it last?” “It’s hard to tell and depends on the severity of his injury. I suspect it won’t take long. We’ll just have to be patient.” She placed her hand on Pickens’s hand. “I didn’t want him to panic and possibly lapse back into the coma, so I briefly explained he had an accident and was convalescing in the hospital.”

Pickens took a deep breath. “Did he accept your explanation of why he’s there?” “He was non-responsive and just kept watching your mom rub his hand. I think it was her being here since the beginning that helped him get through the coma. We’ll give him time before introducing you. Your mom has the situation under control. When she decides it’s best to introduce someone else, we’ll let her decide who.” Pickens raised his eyebrows. “I know you don’t like it, JD, but it’s best for your dad.” She took a sip of coffee and waited for his reply. Pickens rubbed his hand over his mouth, then took a sip of coffee and breathed. “If you think it’s best and my mom’s okay with it, I’ll wait.” He took another breath. “It’s tough, Elaine.” She covered his hand with hers. “I know, JD, but give it time.” Pickens glanced down at her hand. “Why are you here, Elaine? You could be the head of surgery in any large hospital in Florida or anywhere.” Dr. Smathers looked directly into his eyes and smiled. “Because you’re here, JD.”

CHAPTER 17

PICKENS HAD HAD a similar conversation with Marge when he’d first started dating her. He also had had the same discussion with Elaine Smathers after he had left the law firm in Tallahassee and returned to his home town to become a deputy sheriff. “Are you serious, Elaine?” said Pickens. Dr. Smathers grinned. “What if I am?” Pickens’s eyebrows hiked. “Easy, JD. Look, I’m a small-town girl. My father was a GP who practiced family medicine here, and my mother was his nurse. He taught me the value of helping others. I’m here because I love what I do.” She held a hand up. “Believe me, I’ve had lots of offers, some from large hospitals and some from private practices. But I love where I am like my parents loved being here.” She sat back in her chair. “Besides, I got to take care of my ex-boyfriend and now his father, whom I adore like I did my father. Let me ask you, JD, why are you here? You could have been a hotshot attorney somewhere in Florida.” “We had this conversation once before, Elaine, and as I told you then, I’m a small-town boy who likes huntin’, fishin’, drinkin’, and dancin’ with beautiful girls.” He grinned. “Although the last one is over since I’m now a happily married man, and Marge would kill me.” He lowered his voice and asked, “Why aren’t you married, Elaine? Some lucky guy should have grabbed you by now.” She winced and replied, “Because I let you get away, and I’m married to my job.” She grinned, and Pickens frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, JD. I’ve had my share of dates, especially when they fit my need.” Pickens’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t be alarmed. You know I’m not a virgin.” She smiled and continued. “We’re just a couple of small-town hicks, you and I.” She slid her cup in front of him. “Now, how about you buy your old girlfriend a cup of coffee?” Pickens smiled, grabbed her cup, and stood. Dr. Smathers’s pager beeped. “Hold off on that, JD. My pager beeped. I’ll take a raincheck.” She stood, and Pickens put his hand on her arm. “Thanks for being here, Elaine.”

“Same to you, JD.” She smiled and left. “Ah-choo!” came the sound from the volunteer behind the counter. Pickens turned his attention to the woman. “Can an old girlfriend buy the sheriff a cup of coffee? I’m glad you’re here too.” Pickens shook his head. “Same here too, Madeline, and I’ll take that cup of coffee.” While Pickens was at the hospital and Amy and Billy were reviewing the Doyle incident, Marge and Tom Morgan reviewed the Doyle autopsy report. Morgan wanted a second opinion. They were examining the X-ray images of Doyle’s skull. “What do you think caused the severity of those cranial wounds?” asked Morgan. Marge carefully focused on the wounds Morgan had referenced. “They had to have been caused by a heavy object and a powerful blow to the head.” Marge pointed to the fractures. “They weren’t caused by a baseball bat or a kid. We need to call Billy and have him review the security feed from the attack.” “I agree,” said Morgan and waited while Marge dialed Billy. When Billy’s phone rang, he showed it to Amy so she could see his caller ID. “Answer it, Billy. See what she wants.” Billy answered the call. “Dr. Davids, how can I help you?” Marge skipped the pleasantries and went directly to why she was calling. “Do you still have the security feed from the Doyle incident?” “Uh...” He looked at Amy. Amy mouthed, “Answer her.” “Uh...yes. Why?” “Pull it up, Billy. I want you to check something for me.”

Amy said, “Put it on speaker.” “Dr. Davids, Amy is with me. I’m going to put the phone on speaker.” “I don’t care. Just do it.” “Yes, ma’am,” said Billy and pressed speaker then brought up the feed from the Doyle incident. “I have it, Dr. Davids. What am I looking for?” “Can you tell if the assailant was a man or a kid?” “Hold on while I zoom in.” He did so until the image was out of focus, then zoomed out until he had a clearer picture. “I’m not sure, but if it’s a kid, he’s extremely big.” Billy thought about Pickens’s father’s attacker. “What about the weapon? Can you tell if it’s a baseball bat or something else?” Amy crouched over Billy’s shoulder so she could get a better look. “Dr. Davids,” said Amy, “it’s definitely not a baseball bat. Why?” “The killer would have had to have been standing next to Mr. Doyle and swung for a home run. A baseball bat doesn’t match the wounds, and a kid couldn’t have inflicted the damage to Mr. Doyle’s skull. You’re looking for a man.” “Same as we are in Mr. Pickens’s case,” said Billy. “The sheriff and I reviewed that tape and came to the same conclusion, but we didn’t focus on the weapon.” “I am on this one,” said Amy. “It looks like a heavy metal object. Maybe a plumber’s wrench or something similar.” “That would cause the fractures to Mr. Doyle’s skull,” said Morgan, “and a man could deliver a powerful enough blow.” “Tell JD to consider this wasn’t a random attack. It was deliberate,” said Marge. “We’ve already considered JD’s father’s attack being deliberate,” said Amy. “Thanks, Marge.” “Hold off telling JD, Amy. He’s at the hospital visiting his dad. It would be best if you didn’t disturb him. I’ll give him our findings tonight when I see him. You

can discuss it with him in the morning.” “Got it, Marge,” said Amy and ended the call. “Think it’s the same guy, Amy?” “Could be, Billy. Let’s look at the first feed and see what the weapon was.” Billy pulled up the feed from the Pickens’s incident and zoomed in on the assailant. “Shit,” said Billy. “That’s not a baseball bat. That’s something worse.” “Yeah. I’ll bet it’s a hard metal object. Either Mr. Doyle was the original intended target, or he too was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Amy shook her head. “I’m not buying it was a coincidence.” She walked over to the board and wrote Suspect—Adult male under the Pickens and Doyle incidents. Then she wrote Suspect—Male teenager under Karate girl and Suspect—Female teenager under Svenson. “And dig into Mr. Doyle’s background, including his wife.”

CHAPTER 18

PICKENS HAD CONSIDERED calling Marge before he left the hospital to tell her the good news but decided to wait until he got home to tell her and Sarah in person. Marge was at home when Pickens arrived. He went right to the master bedroom, locked his gun in the safe, and then went to the kitchen. He could smell dinner in the oven, but Marge, Sarah, and Bailey weren’t there. He called out, “Hey, I’m home! Where are you guys?” Just then, the front door opened, and Marge called out, “We’re here. We went for a walk. We waved, but you drove past us.” Sarah and Bailey rushed up to him. Sarah hugged him, and Bailey brushed up against his leg. “What’s for dinner? It smells good,” said Pickens. “Pot roast. I put it in this morning. Did you visit your dad?” Pickens smiled. “I did, and he’s awake.” “Does that mean I can visit Grandpa?” asked Sarah. “You’ve got school, honey,” said Marge. “Maybe this weekend if Grandma says it’s okay.” “I’ll ask Grandma and Grandpa’s doctor tomorrow when I visit him,” said Pickens. Marge looked at him, confused. “Go wash your hands. There’s something I have to tell Mama.” “Come on, Bailey. We’re not wanted here.” Sarah and the dog walked off. “I’ve got something to tell you, JD. But it can wait until later.” Pickens rubbed his chin. “Mine can wait until later too. Let’s have dinner because that pot roast is calling me.” Both smiled.

Later, after dinner, Pickens told Marge about his dad’s amnesia. Marge explained what she and Morgan discovered in the Doyle autopsy about the weapon that had killed him. She told him Billy had determined it was possibly the same man and weapon used to attack his dad. “That’s good detective work, Dr. Davids.” “Why, thank you, Sheriff Pickens.” “I’ll discuss it with Amy and Billy tomorrow after I visit my dad. I’ll ask Elaine about Sarah visiting him. I’m not sure I want to ask Mom.” “It’s probably better if you do. If Elaine thinks it’s okay, she can ask your mom.” “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He smiled and winked. “You ready for some football, wide receiver?” “Anytime, quarterback.”

* * *

Pickens caught up with Dr. Elaine Smathers in the hallway on her way to his father’s room. “Elaine, wait. Can I ask you something?” She turned and smiled. “Your dad’s condition hasn’t changed, JD. It’s the same as yesterday.” “I was gonna ask you that, but since you answered, I have another question.” She nodded her head. “Sarah wants to visit her grandfather. Would it be okay, and would you ask my mom?” Dr. Smathers grinned. “Are you afraid of your mom, JD?” Pickens shook his head. “No. It’s just...that...hell, Elaine, I don’t want to ask my mom if it’s not okay with you. And I don’t want to upset her.” Pickens glanced

into his father’s room and saw his mother by his side knitting; then she stopped and rubbed his father’s hand. “They look so peaceful.” Dr. Smathers glanced into the room. “They are, JD. She’s been reading the Bible off and on, then knitting while talking to him. I think he may be starting to recognize her. Every so often, he talks back to her as if he knows who she is. It’s okay with me if Sarah visits, but wait a few days. I don’t want him to get upset if he doesn’t recognize her, and I don’t want Sarah to rush things.” “We can wait until the weekend if my mom says it’s okay.” Dr. Smathers put her hand on his arm. “I’m sure she’ll say yes, but I’ll ask her after I check your father’s vitals. Do you want to say hello? I’ll ask your mom to step into the hallway.” “No. I’ll stop by this afternoon after you ask her. I’ve got a murder and some teenagers to catch.” She elbowed him. “Go get ’em, Sheriff.” Before leaving the hospital, Pickens did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He visited the chapel and said a prayer thanking God for bringing his father out of the coma.

* * *

Pickens left the hospital and drove to the sheriff’s office. Billy was on his computer. Amy hovered over him. Pickens smiled and saluted Deputy Abrue as she was leaving the sheriff’s office. Abrue did a double-take and returned his salute. He smiled at Stacey, and she smiled back. Pickens strolled toward Billy’s desk. He was amazed at how efficient the office functioned without him. Amy was the first to notice him, and then Billy did. “You look to be in a good mood, JD,” said Amy.

“I am. My dad came out of the coma, but he has amnesia.” “Post-traumatic amnesia,” said Amy. “I have a patient who experienced it after he was within range of a mortar explosion. It’s temporary.” “That’s what his doctor said. How long did your patient experience it?” “Um, not long.” Amy didn’t want to say six months and dampen Pickens’s spirits. “I’m sure your dad will be over it soon.” “I’m sure too,” said Pickens and glanced at the board. “I see you’ve updated the board. I’ve got three possible suspects, but the girls’ track coach said this one is the best choice.” He showed Amy the team picture with the girl whom he had circled. “She’s a sophomore and probably no more than fifteen.” “Lydia DaMothe,” said Amy. “She looks like a sweet, innocent girl, but what do I know?” Amy wrote the name as a suspect under Svenson. “I take it karate girl wasn’t much help except to the suspect was a boy,” said Pickens. “Do we have any good news?” “Billy was just researching Doyle and his wife in case there was something in their background that caused him to be a target.” “So far I haven’t found anything,” said Billy. “They’re both retired. She was a librarian, and he owned a home improvement company. They moved here from Jamaica, New York, three years ago. Their records are clean, not even a parking ticket.” “How far back did you search?” asked Pickens. “Ten years,” said Billy. “That’s as far back as their records go.” “In New York too?” asked Amy. “Something’s not right there.” Billy hunched his shoulders. “I searched every database available to me and some not available to you. Sorry, Amy, it’s the best I could do.” Pickens turned and glanced at the board. “Okay,” he said. “What do Doyle and my dad have in common?”

“Sir, you can’t...” said Stacey to a man wearing disheveled tros, a bomber jacket, and a Boston Scally cap who barged past her and headed toward Pickens. “I believe I can answer that, Sheriff Pickens,” said the man. He reached into his bomber jacket, pulled out a set of credentials, and held them up. “Special Agent Patrick Burgess of the FBI’s Criminal Investigative Division. John Doyle was my father.” Burgess handed Pickens his credentials but didn’t offer a hand, so Pickens didn’t. Pickens checked the credentials, showed them to Amy, then gave them to Billy. Billy started a search on Burgess, then gave Pickens Burgess’s credentials. He handed them back to Burgess. “Sorry for your loss.” Burgess held up a hand. “I was going to send Detective Tucker to talk with your mother.” Amy looked confused but nodded even though she had no idea what Pickens meant. “No need to,” said Burgess. “She’s not there. As a precaution, I moved her to an undisclosed location.” Both Pickens and Amy raised their eyebrows. “But I could use your help. My mom requested to have my dad’s body cremated and the ashes taken to her by me. I’ll need a security detail.” Pickens thought about Marge and her staff. “I’m not sure why you need it, but I’d be happy to provide one. My wife is the medical examiner, so as an added precaution, I’ll post someone inside the coroner’s office.” “Thank you, Sheriff.” “You’re welcome, but would you mind telling me why someone targeted my dad and your father?” “I could say because we’re both in law enforcement or because it’s a case of mistaken identity, but that would be misleading. Unfortunately, your father was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My dad frequently gets gas at that convenience store, but on New Year’s Day, he wasn’t feeling well, so my mom went to get gas and something for his stomach.” Amy stiffened. “What’s your mother’s name?” she asked. Burgess looked confused. “Alexis, but my dad called her Lexi. Why?” “Billy,” said Amy, “pull up the recording of the 911 call for January 1.”

“Hold on while I close what I was working on,” Billy said and let Pickens see the monitor. “It’s okay, Billy,” said Pickens. “I saw it.” Billy closed his search on Burgess and pulled up the 911 recording, then pressed play. Everyone listened to the call from Lexi. “That’s my mother’s voice,” said Burgess. “She did the right thing by not getting involved and putting her in the spotlight. Why is this important?” “Because,” said Amy, “your mother may have saved Sheriff Pickens’s father’s life when she did what she did.” “Detective Tucker is right,” said Pickens. “My dad was lucky.” “And mine wasn’t. I’m glad your father survived. But there’s still a killer out there, and I can’t rest until I catch him.” Pickens was about to respond when his phone chirped. He considered ignoring it but decided he needed a breather. The caller could provide what he needed, and Pickens pressed answer. “Pickens, it’s Mitch Hubbard. What the heck is going on? Donna and I returned from vacation, and we read in the newspaper that you have a clusterfuck on your hands. Now we learn one of the victims was your father.” Pickens stepped away so he had privacy. “Calm down, Mitch. I’ve got it under control.” He scratched his chin. “But, Mitch, I could use your help.” “You got it. What do you want me to do shoot somebody?” “No, but it may come to that. Listen, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back? I’ll explain then.” “Okay, but make it quick.” Pickens ended the call, then ed his deputies and Burgess. “That was a friend of mine, Detective Burgess. He’s a retired homicide detective, and he’s helped me in the past.”

“So what’s he got to do with this?” asked Burgess. Pickens raised an index finger. “Hear me out. I have an idea how you can get your father’s ashes to your mom.” “I’m listening, but it had better be good.” “I’m listening too, JD,” said Amy. Pickens ignored them both and continued. “Once your father is cremated and his ashes are ready for transport, Instead of you doing it, which would be risky, I’ll have Mitch Hubbard and his wife, Donna, claim the ashes and take them to their house. You can arrange for a time and place to retrieve them, or Mitch can deliver them to your mother. But you’ll have to trust him with your mother’s location...unless you have a better idea.” Burgess mulled it over in his head. “It’s a good plan. Maybe I could have someone I trust get them from this guy Hubbard and get the ashes to me or take them to my mom.” “That’s a good plan too,” said Pickens. “So should I call Hubbard and explain the plan?” “Will he go for it?” Pickens hunched his shoulders. “If I ask him politely, he will. But first I need to know which plan.” “Have him take the ashes to his house. I’ll see if my guy is available; then we’ll go from there.” Pickens dialed Hubbard. “Okay, Pickens, what do you want from me? And it had better be important.” “Are you sitting down, Mitch? If not, then sit.” “I’m having coffee with Donna, and I’m sitting. Let’s have it.” Pickens couldn’t see Hubbard’s frown. Pickens explained all three versions of the plan, emphasizing Hubbard and

Donna getting the ashes and taking them home. “What do you think, Mitch? Mitch, are you still there?” “I’m here. I’m thinking, and I have to talk to Donna. Can I call you back, and are you in a hurry?” “I can wait thirty minutes.” “Thirty minutes? Really? You know how Donna is. She can take forever. Ouch...She just punched me. Okay, but no promises.” “Thanks, Mitch.” Pickens ended the call. “It’s up to his wife. If she says yes, we’re a go.” Burgess shrugged. “Hey, I can’t ask for more. Thanks, Sheriff Pickens.” Pickens grinned. “Just Pickens will be fine, and while we wait for Mitch to call, you can explain why someone targeted your father. What you told me doesn’t amount to shit.” Burgess grinned and offered his hand. “You got a deal, Pickens.”

CHAPTER 19

DEPUTY CARLA BOSNIK was about to leave to lunch before reporting to Warfield Elementary School as the school resource officer when a teenage girl approached her. “Like uh...are you in charge?” asked the girl. “I want to confess to murdering someone.” Bosnik softened her voice and said, “You want to confess to a murder?” “Yeah...Like...that’s what I said.” Bosnik raised her palm. “Hold on. I’m not the person in charge. Detective Sergeant Dunne is.” She pointed to a nearby desk. “Have a seat, and I’ll get her. What’s your name?” The girl turned and eyed the exit, then decided to have a seat and wait for Dunne. “Lydia DaMothe.” Bosnik tapped on the doorjamb of Dunne’s makeshift office. It had initially been a supply room, but with Dunne’s husband’s and Deputy Zeke Jackson’s help, they had converted it into an office. They were also in the process of walling in a conference room with a table, and six chairs for temporary use. Dunne was reviewing her deputies’ reports and looked up. “Yes, Deputy?” “Ma’am,” said Bosnik, who always addressed Dunne as “ma’am” out of respect for her position, unlike the other deputies who addressed her as “Detective.” “There’s a girl who wants to confess to a murder.” Bosnik tilted her head to the left. “Her name is Lydia DaMothe. She’s sitting at that desk. What should I do about her?” Dunne wrote the girl’s name down and stood. “Did she say who and where?” “No. I thought you’d want to ask her. She doesn’t look more than sixteen, maybe less.”

“Keep her there while I make a call.” Bosnik nodded, then went back to the girl and sat at the desk, making small talk. Dunne looked up the name DaMothe, got a home phone number for a Phyllis DaMothe, and dialed it. She got voice mail and decided not to leave a message in case it was the wrong DaMothe. Next she called the principal of the high school and asked if she had a Lydia DaMothe as a student, and if so, if she had a phone number for a parent as it was an emergency. The principal had both a home number and a work number for Phyllis DaMothe. Dunne thanked the principal and then called DaMothe’s work number. “Phyllis DaMothe. How may I help you?” Dunne felt an anxious tightness in her chest. She had never had to make a call like this to a parent. “Ms. DaMothe, I’m Detective Sergeant Mia Dunne of the sheriff’s office. I have your daughter here.” “The sheriff’s office?” asked DaMothe, worried. “My daughter is in school. You must be mistaken.” “I wish I were. The girl who’s here said her name is Lydia DaMothe. Is that your daughter’s name?” “Yes it is. What did she do now?” Dunne hesitated, then decided not to tell her over the phone. “I think it best if you came to my office in Warfield. It’s something serious, and you might want to bring an attorney.” “Seriously?” said DaMothe. “I’ll be right there, but I don’t have an attorney.” “As long as you’re here because we can’t question her without a parent or an attorney.” “Don’t do anything until I get there,” said DaMothe, and she ended the call. Dunne stood, left her office, and approached the girl. “Young lady, I’m Detective Dunne. I called your mother. She’s on her way here.”

The girl stood. “You called my mom? Why?” “Because you need a parent or an attorney for us to talk to you about what you think you did.” “You had no right to call her. She has nothing to do with this. I know what I did, but now I’m out of here.” The girl turned and started for the exit, but six-footthree, two-hundred-thirty-five-pound Corporal Zeke Jackson blocked it with his arms crossed and looked like Mr. Clean in a uniform. Jackson had just entered and heard the conversation. He pointed an index finger, and the girl sat. Corporal Jackson had children of his own and was sure none of them would take someone’s life. He wondered if the girl was the kid who had killed Doyle. He ed what it was like for Doyle’s wife when he took her to the morgue to identify her husband’s body. If she was the perpetrator, Jackson hoped the girl would get her due punishment. “Fine,” Lydia said adamantly, then crossed her arms in front of her and put one leg over the other. “Thanks a lot. I just wanted to do what was right.” She pursed her lips. “I take back what I said, and I’m not talking without a lawyer.” Dunne noticed tears on the girl’s cheek and felt she was a typical rebellious teenager: tough outside but, as soft as a little girl. “I’m sure you did want to do what was right,” said Dunne, “and we appreciate it.” The girl eyed Dunne cautiously. “While you’re waiting, would you care for a soft drink? I’m sure we have iced tea in the machine.” Dunne said “soft drink” instead of “soda” to make the girl feel more like an adult. “No! And don’t try and sweet-talk me. I ain’t changing my mind and keep your damn iced tea. I don’t drink it anyway. Just leave me alone.” “Suit yourself,” said Dunne. She started to walk to her office, then stopped. “But it’s my understanding a guilty conscience can lead to a parched mouth, and a parched mouth leads to dehydration, which can cause unconsciousness.” “All right already!” yelled the girl. “I’ll have a damn soda if it will make you shut up.” “Corporal Jackson, would you get the young lady a soft drink, please? I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Jackson grinned and nodded and went to the machine

to get the girl a soda. Dunne called Amy on her cell phone and told her about Lydia DaMothe, her tentative confession, and her request for an attorney. “Lydia DaMothe is the name of the girl who the girls’ track coach told JD was the best suspect. But she didn’t kill Doyle. A man killed him.” Amy told Dunne about Doyle’s son and Pickens’s idea. “Maybe you should call Marilyn Nudley, the county prosecutor.” “Hold on, Amy.” Dunne heard shouting outside her office. “Amy, I can’t call her now. I have to deal with a shouting match.” “Go handle it. I’ll call Nudley.” “Thanks.” Dunne punched off and stepped out of her office. A woman and Lydia DaMothe were shouting at each other. Corporal Jackson was between them, absorbing their insults at each other. “Stop!” shouted Dunne. The woman and the girl froze. “Good. Now, calm down and talk like human beings, ladies.” “Who the hell are you?” said the woman. “I’m Detective Sergeant Dunne. You must be Mrs. DaMothe.” “It’s Ms. DaMothe,” said the woman sarcastically and wiggled her left hand, revealing no rings. “I’m divorced and glad I got rid of the bastard.” “See?” said the girl. “Now you know why I didn’t want her here.” “You shut up, Lydia!” yelled the woman. “Enough!” shouted Dunne. “Ms. DaMothe, I’m the one who called you. Both of you, please sit.” Jackson got a chair for Ms. DaMothe, and she sat as did the girl. “What’s this all about?” asked Ms. DaMothe. Dunne took a moment to compose herself. “Your daughter has said something I must take seriously. I can’t talk to her without your permission, and she asked

for an attorney.” “I’ll take it from here, Detective,” said Marilyn Nudley. Dunne said, “Ms. DaMothe, this is Marilyn Nudley the county—” “The county attorney,” interrupted Nudley. She didn’t want to say county prosecutor and scare the girl and her mother. “Your daughter told Detective Dunne something that requires your permission before the detective speaks to her, and your daughter has asked for an attorney.” “What attorney?” said Ms. DaMothe. “Like I told Detective Dunne, I don’t have one.” “You can always get one, or one can be appointed. That won’t be necessary now. I’m here to advise you should you want me to. But considering what your daughter told Detective Dunne, she must consider your daughter a suspect in a crime and might have to arrest her at a later date.” “A suspect?” said Ms. DaMothe. “A crime and might be arrested? Lydia, what the hell did you do?” “I didn’t mean to hurt the guy.” “Young lady,” said Nudley, “don’t say anything more without your mother’s permission and your attorney—” Nudley paused to let her next comment sink in. “Whatever your daughter decides to do, it’s entirely up to her.” “I don’t know what to do,” said the girl. “You don’t have to decide now, young lady,” said Nudley. “But whatever you decide, your mother has to agree to it, and you will still be a suspect. Take your time to think about it.” “You made a mess of it this time, didn’t you, Lydia?” “Ms. DaMothe,” said Nudley, “you’re not helping your daughter. Don’t you think it’s time to have a little understanding about what she’s going through?” “She did come here to confess,” said Dunne. “That shows her taking

responsibility for her actions. If she were my daughter, I’d be a little more comionate.” “Well, she’s not your daughter,” snapped DaMothe. “See?” said the girl, “She doesn’t give a damn about me and never did.” “That’s not true. Why the hell do you think I’m here? If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have come.” Corporal Jackson got between the mother and daughter. “Would you like to use my office for privacy?” asked Dunne. “No,” said the girl. “I don’t care what she thinks. I just want to get it over with. Like...now.” “Ms. DaMothe,” said Nudley, “she still needs your permission. Does she have it?” Everyone waited for her reply. “Ms. DaMothe, yes or no?” “What choice do I have? Yes, she does. Go ahead, Lydia. Get it off your chest if that’s what you want.” “You don’t have to talk to us now,” said Nudley. “You’re free to go home and think about it. As I said, the decision is entirely up to you.” “I want to,” said the girl. “That way, the big guy doesn’t have to get between my mom and me again.” Corporal Jackson smiled. “I mean like...I killed someone. And, like...I want to confess to doing it.” “You what!” said her mother. “You heard me. I killed someone. It was supposed to be a prank. It went wrong, and I’m sorry it happened. I didn’t mean—” “Lydia,” said Dunne, “where did it happen?” Dunne wanted to be sure there wasn’t another incident she wasn’t aware of. The girl looked first at her mother, then Nudley, and then Dunne. “At the convenience store on Prentiss Avenue.”

“Hold on, Lydia,” said Dunne. “I want to talk to Ms. Nudley. Corporal Jackson, put them in the conference room.” The girl looked confused but kept silent. Dunne and Nudley stepped away, and Jackson led the girl and her mother to the makeshift conference room. “Okay, Detective, you’ve sparked my curiosity,” said Nudley. “The man she attacked isn’t dead.” Nudley’s eyes narrowed. “I’m confused. Did the girl murder someone?” “No. But she did attack a man, and he ended up in the hospital. He’s at home convalescing.” “So she’s guilty of assault and battery instead of murder?” “Yes,” said Dunne. “Should I arrest her?” “First, let me explain the circumstances to her and her mother.” Dunne and Nudley entered the makeshift conference room and sat across from the girl and her mother. “Ms. DaMothe and Lydia,” said Nudley, “I’ve been advised you didn’t kill anyone, but you did commit assault and battery on a senior citizen.” The girl placed her hands over her heart and breathed a sigh of relief. “Will I still have to go to jail?” “That’s up to the court to decide, but most likely you’ll spend time in juvie.” “Is there anything you can do for her, Ms. Nudley?” asked DaMothe. With the prospect of her daughter being incarcerated even though it was only juvie, the mother suddenly became concerned for her. “With your permission and if your daughter waives her right to an attorney, if she signs a confession, I’ll recommend leniency...provided the sheriff and the victim agree with it. Since I’m not her attorney and only offering advice, I suggest you both think about it.” Nudley paused to let her next comment sink in. “But we still have to treat her as a suspect. We can release her into your custody.” Nudley addressed the girl. “Young lady, it’s up to you.” The girl had tears in her eyes and was sobbing. “I want to get it over with.”

Nudley opened her briefcase, took out a sheet of paper and pen, and handed them to the girl. The girl wrote her statement, then signed it and gave it to Nudley. “Is that everything, Detective?” asked Nudley and handed Dunne the girl’s statement. Dunne looked it over. “What about the motorcycle?” The girl’s mouth fell open. “What motorcycle?” “The witness who chased you said he heard a motorcycle behind him and stopped chasing you. He thought whoever was on the motorcycle would. Did you see the motorcycle?” Dunne searched the girl’s eyes to determine if her response would be truthful or evasive. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I was on foot and ran down the highway to the Burger Palace, where, I like...met up with some kids who were having lunch and skipping classes. One of them had a car, and later we went for a ride and then parked and...” The girl avoided eye with her mother. Dunne suspected they had found a place to park and make out or smoke marijuana. “Add that to your statement,” said Dunne. “Fine,” snapped the girl, then wrote what she had told Dunne. “Happy now?” “Yes, thank you,” replied Dunne. “What happens now?’ asked her mother. “Take your daughter home and love her,” said Nudley. “We’ll be in touch with you.” “Thank you,” said DaMothe. The girl looked at Jackson and said, “Thank you, Deputy, for being patient with me.” Jackson grinned and nodded. The girl then looked at her mother and tilted her head at Jackson. “Mom.”

“Oh, right. Thank you, Deputy, and I’m sorry you had to get between us.” Jackson again grinned and nodded. “And thank you, Detective Dunne,” said the girl, “for putting up with me. I’m sorry if I, like...uh, was rude to you.” Dunne nodded and grinned. “And, Lydia,” said Nudley, “any trouble and you’ll wait in juvie until your time in front of a judge. And Ms. DaMothe, if she does, it’s on you, and the judge won’t be happy about it.” The girl raised both palms and said, “I’ll stay clear of trouble. Trust me.” “If she knows what’s good for her, she will,” said the mother. The girl shook her head; then both mother and daughter left. “That went well, Detective,” said Nudley. “Do you believe her?” “As for her statement, I’m not sure. The part about the motorcycle doesn’t sit right.” Nudley shrugged. “That’s for you and the sheriff to figure out. Just be sure and let me know.” “I will. I didn’t expect you to come here and so soon,” said Dunne. “The sheriff has me at yours’ and Amy’s beck and call. Who’s going to tell him what happened?” Dunne nodded her head. “I guess that falls under my purview. Thank you, Ms. Nudley.” “Please call me Marilyn or Counselor. Good luck telling the sheriff.” She tapped Jackson on the chest. “Good job, Deputy.” Jackson was caught off guard and didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded.

CHAPTER 20

BURGESS WAS ABOUT to tell Pickens why his own father had been attacked when Pickens’s phoned chirped. He thought it was Hubbard calling, but it was Dunne. “Detective Dunne, I’m in the middle of something. Can it wait until later?” “No,” said Dunne. Then without hesitation she said, “I had a situation here and had to have the county attorney help me.” She proceeded to tell Pickens what had happened. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to...” Pickens ignored Dunne’s insubordination, which was rare for her. “You did the right thing, Detective. Send me a copy of the girl’s statement. I’ll talk to Amy about it.” Dunne didn’t finish her sentence because Pickens hung up on her, something he had never done. Pickens sat on a desk, folded his hands over his stomach, and studied Burgess’s face. “Okay, Burgess, let’s hear it.” “I was undercover in a sex and drug trafficking and murder-for-hire gang for two years. After I gathered enough evidence to arrest and convict the gang’s leader, I came out from undercover. The trial is scheduled for next month, and I’m the star witness.” “What’s that have to do with my dad?” “There’s a contract out on me. And my family and my parents are pawns to stop me from testifying. My wife and family are safe. My parents were supposed to be too. We had surveillance on them, but my dad was stubborn and wasn’t satisfied staying cooped up in the house.” Burgess took a deep breath before continuing. “He was only supposed to go to that convenience store for gas, and my parents were allowed to go grocery shopping.” Burgess breathed deeply, then continued. “He wasn’t supposed to go to that hardware place, but he wanted to build my mom a birdhouse and mount it on a pole. We thought we had him

protected, but somehow we made a mistake.” Pickens shook his head. “That’s some mistake.” “Tell me about it. That’s why I need your help. Actually, you already have helped.” Pickens narrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?” “Your deputy brought my mother to the morgue to identify my dad’s body. After she did, she was whisked away to an undisclosed location. Your deputy had no idea it happened.” “What about the medical examiner and his team? They must have known.” “They did, but Dr....” “Morgan,” said Pickens. “He’s the assistant ME, and he would have told my wife.” “If he didn’t, it was because we asked him and his team to keep it a secret to protect my mother. Your wife has a very loyal team and should be proud of them.” “She is,” said Pickens. “But what about my deputy? Did he know?” “No. A female member of my team disguised as my mother acted as if she were crying and covered her face with a handkerchief so your deputy couldn’t see it. Then he took her home and waited until she was safely in the house. Your deputies were kind enough to return my dad’s truck to my parents’ house. That was nice of them.” “Deputy Jackson is one of my best deputies, and I’d expect it of him.” Pickens stood. “Okay, Burgess, now I understand why someone targeted our fathers. But now I’ve got a killer on the loose in my county aiming for your mother. You see the deputies I have here. They’re half of my force. The other half is in Warfield thirty-five miles south of here. There’s no way to look for a killer, surveil your parents’ house, find the teenagers attacking senior citizens, and provide services to the community. It’s just not possible.”

Burgess raised both palms. “You don’t have to. I’ve got the surveillance under control, and my team and I will help find the killer.” Burgess grinned. “We’ve got your back, Sheriff Pickens.” “Like you had my dad’s back and yours?” Burgess winced. “What about if Mitch agrees to get your father’s ashes? What surveillance will he get?” “I’m not sure he’ll need it. No one knows he’s getting the ashes, and no one knows him. Just in case, you got any suggestions?” “How about my drone club?” said Billy. “They can provide surveillance.” “Not a bad idea, Billy,” said Pickens. Burgess did a doubletake. “A drone club—are you kidding me, Pickens?” “No, he’s not,” snapped Billy. “For your information, we provided aerial surveillance for a deputy’s funeral, we found buried remains in a remote location, and we surveilled a suspect. That’s not kidding. That’s real police work.” “Easy, Billy,” said Pickens. “He got your message.” “I’m not so sure he did.” Billy stood and pounded his hands on the desk. “You’re an asshole, Burgess,” said Billy and walked away. “I’ll go after him,” said Amy. She glared at Burgess and went after Billy. “That’s a couple of testy deputies you got there, Pickens.” “You’re an asshole, Burgess. When they come back—and they will—you apologize to them, especially Billy, or you can march your ass out of here and handle your own problem.” Burgess’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” Pickens folded his arms across his chest, and his face turned red. “Do I look like I’m not serious? We may not be as sophisticated as where you come from, but we’re technologically advanced in many ways. And Corporal Billy Thompson is our technological genius. Without him, we’re just another Podunk law

enforcement agency.” Pickens drew a deep breath and glared at Burgess. “Yes, I’m serious.” Burgess retreated several steps and raised both hands. “I get it, Pickens, and I’m sorry.” “Don’t tell me; tell them.” Amy and Billy walked toward Pickens and Burgess. Billy sat at his desk but didn’t look at them. Amy stood by a nearby desk with her arms crossed. Pickens tilted his head toward Billy. “Corporal Thompson, I apologize for what I said. I didn’t mean to sound demeaning.” Billy ignored him but said, “Apology accepted, but you’re still an asshole, and you owe Detective Amy Tucker one too.” Amy turned her head and stifled a laugh. Burgess turned and addressed Amy. “My apologies, Detective.” Amy nodded her head. “Apology accepted.” “That wasn’t too difficult, was it, Burgess?” said Pickens. His phone chirped. “It’s Hubbard.” Pickens put it on speaker. “Hey, Mitch, what’s your decision?” Pickens raised two crossed fingers. “Your plan sucks, Pickens,” said Hubbard. “Suppose whoever is after those ashes is waiting at the funeral home, and when Donna and I get out of the car, they open fire and we’re in the middle of a hailstorm of bullets? Not gonna happen. Call me back when you have a plan that doesn’t include Donna.” “Well,” said Pickens, “that didn’t go well. Anyone have another idea?” “I do,” said Amy. Pickens raised his palm. “Let’s hear it.” “It involves Billy and his drone club.” Billy turned in his seat. She had his attention. “I got it, Amy. We don’t need the Hubbards. We’ll use a drone that can carry packages. If none of my has

one, I can get one.” “I’m not following you, Corporal,” said Burgess. “I am,” said Pickens. “Keep going, Billy.” “The funeral home is surrounded by the cemetery. All I need is enough clearance to land the drone, pick up the ashes, and take them to a drop-off point. I’ll also need to know how much the ashes weigh. Once the drone delivers the ashes to the drop off point, either Mr. Hubbard or whoever you want to get them can retrieve the ashes.” “Excellent suggestion, Corporal,” said Burgess. “And I like it.” “As do I,” said Pickens. Billy beamed with pride. “Set it up, Billy. I’ll call Hubbard. If he agrees, I’ll call the funeral home.” “And I’ll call my associate and let her know what the plan is,” said Burgess. “Another female, Burgess?” said Amy. “Guess you don’t have faith in males.” “Right on point, Detective,” replied Burgess. Pickens dialed Hubbard. “So what’s your plan now, Pickens?” said Hubbard. “It had better be good.” “It is, Mitch, and it doesn’t involve Donna. Maybe you, but definitely not Donna.” “I’m listening, Pickens.” Pickens explained about the use of Billy’s drone club and the pick-up and delivery system. “What do you think?” Pickens waited for an answer. “Mitch, are you still there?” “I’m here. Your plan works for me. When does it go into action?” “As soon as we set it up.” “Hold on, JD,” said Amy. “I have another idea.”

“We’re listening,” said Pickens. “What if we draw the killer out and expose him?” “Good idea, Detective,” said Hubbard. “And how do we do that?” asked Burgess. “Mr. Hubbard and someone disguised as the wife of the departed go to the funeral home to pick up the ashes,” said Amy. “I get it,” said Pickens. “If the killer is watching the funeral home, then he will —” “Will start shooting as soon as we’re out of the car,” said Hubbard. “We’ll need back up to prevent you and the supposed wife from getting shot,” added Pickens. “I have a better idea,” said Burgess. “How about I go to my parents’ house, pick up my associate, and we go to the funeral home? That way it doesn’t involve Mr. Hubbard.” “You’ll still need back up,” said Hubbard, “and I can provide it. I’ll call Bobby Ellison. We’ll be at the funeral home disguised as groundskeepers. Bobby can do an early reconnaissance to determine if anyone is watching the funeral home.” “I can do the same,” said Billy, “with a drone. In fact, I’ll get one out there now.” “Now, that’s a plan, JD,” said Hubbard. “Call me when it’s a go.” Billy made the call and arranged for the drone. Pickens called the funeral home and got the weight of the ashes, approximately nine pounds, including the square wooden urn. Burgess called his and the woman in his parents’ house. Amy retrieved the fax from Dunne and called her. Dunne repeated what she previously had told Amy about the girl walking into the sheriff’s office and confessing, then about the arguments between the girl and her mother. She also told Amy that with Nudley’s intervention, they had been able to get a signed confession. Amy told Dunne, without elaborating, that they had a plan to catch

Doyle’s killer. Both agreed the Doyle case took precedence, and Amy would talk to Pickens in the morning. “Besides us four,” said Pickens, “and your s, no one else knows about the plan. Let’s keep it that way.” “What about the of my detail?” asked Burgess. “I should at least alert the one in my parents’ driveway.” “Can he or she be trusted?” asked Pickens. “With my life,” replied Burgess. “And how did that work out for your father?” said Amy. “Point taken,” replied Burgess. “But I have to tell them something, especially the one in the driveway. She camps out in my dad’s truck and uses the house for toilet breaks. She knows the woman in the house isn’t my mother.” “Tell them you’re picking up your mother and taking her to the funeral home. Amy and I will be in the back seat of your vehicle. They can look after you until you leave the immediate vicinity then one of my deputies will follow you to the funeral home. We’ll provide your security.” Burgess mulled it over, then said, “That will work.” “Good,” said Pickens. “Let’s set this plan in motion. We’ll need at least two days. What are you driving?” “A red convertible.” “Could you be any more conspicuous?” “Hey, it’s a rental. It’s all they had available.” Pickens shook his head. “Where are you staying? You look like you could use a shave.” Burgess smiled. “I’d tell you, Sheriff, but I don’t know if I can trust you.”

CHAPTER 21

AFTER HE HAD exchanged phone numbers with Burgess, Pickens left to go to the hospital to check on his father. He caught up with Dr. Smathers in the hallway. “Any progress, Elaine?” said Pickens. “And good afternoon to you, Sheriff Pickens,” said Dr. Smathers. Pickens raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, Elaine. Good morning. It’s been a long day. I’m up to my ass in a murder case.” Dr. Smathers grabbed hold of Pickens’s elbow and guided him against the wall. “Is it the same teenagers who attacked your father? Is he safe, JD?” Pickens gently removed her hand from his elbow. “It’s not a teenager. It’s a contract murderer. And yes, my dad is safe.” “Thank goodness. Yes to your question, JD. There’s a little progress. I think your father is starting to recognize your mother.” Pickens felt a fluttering of hope in his belly. “How can you tell?” “Actually, your mother noticed. She’s been reading to him every day and talking to him while she knits. When she reads him the Bible, he occasionally recites ages with her. She calls him Russell, and he seems to acknowledge the name. Your mother said he sometimes comments about her knitting. She said it was something he did before...” Dr. Smathers hesitated to say before the attack. Instead, she said, “Before the coma. She also said a few times, he told your mother she had bright-eyes.” Pickens smiled. “Dad’s nickname for Mom.” “You should say hello to them, JD.” “Will he recognize me?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But don’t get your hopes up too high. He will when he’s ready.” “Thanks. I don’t know what we’d do without you, Elaine.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Aw, that’s sweet of you.” Pickens’s face turned pink, and he removed his hand from hers. “I’m, uh, gonna see my parents.” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Toodle-oo, JD.” Pickens shook his head and entered his father’s room. “Hey, Mom.” Jeanette looked up and had a huge smile. “JD, come say hello. Russell, this is the nice young man I told you about.” Pickens searched his father’s face for recognition, but it was blank, and Pickens hoped his face masked his disappointment. He had also hoped his mother would have said, “my son.” His father acknowledged Pickens with only a slight grin and raising of his fingers. Pickens’s heart felt as if it were shrinking as he approached the bed and said, “Hello...” He swallowed hard, then said, “Russell. It’s nice to meet you.” Pickens felt awkward greeting his father as Russell instead of Dad. He felt a knot in his belly. “I can’t stay long, Mom. I just wanted to stop by and say hello.” “That’s nice of you, JD. Isn’t that nice of him, Russell?” Pickens hoped his father would have said, “That’s nice of you, JD.” But the man lying in bed, gave him a blank stare.

* * *

Pickens smelled the aroma of fried chicken coming from the kitchen when he

opened his house’s front door. Marge and Sarah were in the kitchen, but Bailey was nowhere in sight. “Hey, I’m home,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. I stopped by the hospital.” Marge tossed a kitchen towel over her shoulder. “How’s your dad?” “He’s fine. I’ll tell you after I put my weapon away.” Pickens went to the master bedroom closet, locked his weapon in the safe, then washed his face and hands. Then he ed Marge and Sarah. Sarah was setting the table. “Where’s Bailey?” asked Pickens. “He’s outside,” said Sarah. “I’ll go let him in.” “Not until you give me a hug and kiss, young lady.” Sarah leaped into his arms and kissed him on the cheek. “Now go get Bailey.” She scampered off to the screened-in porch and opened the door. The dog came charging at Pickens and leaped on his leg. “That’s my boy. Good to see you, Bailey.” The dog barked and wagged his tail. “How’s your dad, JD?” asked Marge. “Elaine said according to Mom, he’s starting to recognize her. Little things.” He told Marge what Dr. Smathers had told him. He swallowed hard and said, “But he didn’t recognize me.” Marge put her hand on his arm. “He will, JD...when he’s ready.” “Yeah, that’s what Elaine said. How was your day?” “Nothing exciting...except, Mr. Doyle’s remains went to the funeral home for cremation. How was your day?” Pickens searched his wife’s face to see if she would mention Doyle’s wife’s switch at the morgue and that Tom Morgan was aware of it. He saw nothing and decided not to tell her about Burgess and the plan to capture Doyle’s killer and his father’s attacker. “Nothing exciting either. We’re diligently trying to identify Doyle’s killer. Oh,

we got a confession from a teenage girl that she was the assailant at the Prentiss Avenue convenience store. One down, three to go.” “Progress is progress, JD. You’ll solve the other cases.” “Do you have anything you want to tell me, Marge?” “I do,” she said. Pickens expected she would tell him about what Morgan had done. “Have a seat, and I’ll put dinner on the table.” That’s it? Pickens said to himself. Have a seat and you’ll put dinner on the table? I can’t believe it. Pickens went to sleep that night wondering why his wife was keeping a secret from him. But he knew his wife and felt she wasn’t. She might not have known what Tom Morgan had done.

CHAPTER 22

WEDNESDAY MORNING, WHEN Amy and Billy arrived at the sheriff’s office, they were surprised to see Pickens in his office. Amy grabbed a cup of coffee and approached the door to Pickens’s office. Pickens was munching on a doughnut and gulping coffee. He threw the remainder of a doughnut at the wall and said, “Son of a bitch. Why couldn’t she tell me?” Amy took a step back. “Tell you what? What do you think I did that I couldn’t tell you?” Pickens turned and was startled. “Not you,” he said. “Marge.” “And Marge what...?” “Why couldn’t she tell me.” “Tell you what?” “Tell me she knew about Burgess’s mother.” “And,” said Amy, “what about his mother?” Pickens’s face turned pink, and he slammed his fist on the desk. “She knew about the switch at the coroner’s office, and Morgan knew.” “Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe...Morgan didn’t tell her. Did you consider that?” “No. Close the damn door and leave me alone. I’ve got some hard thinking to do.” Amy backed away and closed the door. “What’s buggin him?” asked Billy.

Amy sat at her desk, took a sip of coffee, and said, “Poor communications on the home front.” Billy scratched the back of his head and asked, “Is he gonna stay in there all day? We’ve got things to do, and I got a report from yesterday’s drone surveillance.” “Hold on to it. He’ll be out soon. He’s probably calling Marge.” They heard shouting from Pickens’s office. “That doesn’t sound good,” said Billy. “No. Which means we’re in for a long day.” The door to Pickens’s office opened. “Make like you’re busy, Billy.” Amy picked up the desk phone and feigned conversation. Billy pulled up the Google app and typed letters and numbers as though he were searching for something. Pickens emerged from his office and was about to say something when Marge barged through the front entrance. “Damn you, Joshua Daniel Pickens!” she yelled. “Don’t you ever dare accuse me of something I didn’t and wouldn’t do!” Pickens took a step back and froze. Amy and Billy froze in their seats. “Tom Morgan told me about what happened with Mrs. Doyle, and he was keeping it a secret to protect me.” Pickens’s face showed a pained gaze. “If you had the balls, you would have asked me before accusing me, or at least have asked Tom.” Pickens had no words to respond, and Marge continued her rant. “The Pickens I know would have. If you ever do it again, I’ll...” She turned toward Amy. “Give me your gun, Amy.” Amy opened her desk drawer and locked her weapon in it. “Give me yours, Billy.” He did the same. Marge looked around for something to throw at Pickens. “Hold on, Marge,” Pickens said and would have raised his hands, but he held a cup of coffee in one and a box of doughnuts in the other. “You’re right. I apologize and won’t do it again. I should have trusted you and asked you. I’m an asshole.” “You’re damn right you are, and a son of a—” Pickens grinned. “Language, Marge. The children can hear you.” He thrust the box of doughnuts at her. “Have a doughnut, and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t mock me, Pickens, or I swear...” She pointed her finger at him, and he retreated a step. “Or so help me, you’ll regret it.” “I’m not mocking you. I’m serious about the coffee and doughnut.” His comment soothed her, and she grinned. “You’re such a jerk, JD. I’ll take that cup of coffee.” She grabbed the box of doughnuts and handed it to Billy. “Here, share them with Amy.” Billy grabbed the box, took out a doughnut, and gave the box to Amy. “We good, Marge?” asked Pickens. “Yeah, we’re good. Just if you ever—” “Trust me. I won’t. Let’s get some coffee, and you can give me a makeup kiss.” She punched him in his arm. “A makeup kiss—are you serious? The children are watching.” “Who cares? They’re old enough.” He put his arm around her, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Whew,” said Marge. “Okay, I need coffee now.” Pickens grabbed her hand, led her to the break room, and poured her a cup of coffee. After she finished her coffee, she kissed him on his lips. “I have to go back to the office and chew out Tom for keeping the secret from me.” “Don’t be too hard on him, Marge. He was only doing what he thought was right. I’ll explain after I finish investigating the Doyle murder.” He didn’t want to tell her about the plan with Burgess, and Amy and him hiding in the backseat of Burgess’s car. He didn’t want to alarm her. “Trust me, please.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Like you trusted me?” “Ouch. Okay, I deserved that, but you need to trust me.” “Just to show you I’m the bigger person, I will. Now I have to go.” She kissed him one more time, then walked into the bullpen, smiled, and said, “Good day, Amy.”

Amy smiled. “You too, Marge.” “You have a good day too, Billy.” Billy smiled. “Thank you. You too, Mrs. Pickens.” Pickens emerged from the break room and said, “Okay, the crisis is over, and yes, I’m an asshole.” “But you’re our asshole,” said Amy. “She was really pissed, JD.” Pickens nodded his head. “Tell me about it. She hasn’t called me by my Christian name since before we were married, and we almost broke up. Okay, I deserved that. Now, let’s get down to business. You first, Billy.” “The report from the drone surveillance yesterday revealed something interesting.” He pulled up the surveillance video. “You have to look closely or you’ll miss it.” Pickens leaned over behind Billy, and Amy ed him. Billy zoomed in on the video and pointed. “See there in those bushes off the side of the road? That’s a black van. It was there several times after several flybys. Also on the road that leads to the funeral home. And when we did a flyover of the Doyle residence, we spotted another vehicle not far from the house.” “That could be one of Burgess’s people,” said Amy. “Maybe,” said Pickens. “We’ll have to ask him as a precaution.” “What about the van, JD?” asked Amy. “Should we ask Burgess about it too?” “I don’t think it belongs to Burgess’s detail,” said Billy. “He would have told us about it yesterday.” “I agree,” said Pickens. “Looks like we’re in for an old-fashioned shootout at the funeral home. I’ll have to alert Hubbard and Ellison. We’ll need your drone club to continue to provide surveillance at the funeral home and to keep an eye on that van...also that vehicle near Burgess’s parents’ house. Good work, Billy.” Billy beamed with pride and said, “It was all by my drone club, but thanks anyway, Sheriff.”

“Now you, Amy.” Amy reached for the fax from Dunne and gave it to Pickens. She waited while he read it. “Looks good to me,” said Pickens. “What do you, Dunne, and Nudley think about it?” “Dunne isn’t sure about the motorcycle. She thinks the girl is hiding something.” “Maybe whoever was on the motorcycle picked up the girl, and they rode off into the sunset,” said Pickens. “You and Billy were there. What do you two think?” “I rode through the neighborhood,” said Billy, “and I didn’t see a motorcycle or a girl. You could be right, Sheriff.” “Maybe there’s a camera at the burger t or nearby,” said Amy. “I’ll ask Dunne to check. If there is, maybe the girl and the motorcycle are on camera.” “Good idea, Amy. And , it’s Detective Dunne.” “I know. Don’t you trust me?” “Ha-ha. Not funny. You call Detective Dunne while I call Hubbard.” Pickens punched in Hubbard’s number on his cell phone. “JD,” said Hubbard, “I was about to call you. I’m in a golf cart with Ellison, and we’re dressed as groundskeepers. We’re taking a ride through the cemetery to pretend to do maintenance on a few gravesites. I saw a suspicious van as I approached the entrance to the funeral home. We’re going to check it out. Bobby has binoculars. I’ll call you back when we know something.” “Okay,” said Pickens. “I was calling you about that van. Billy’s drone spotted it.” “Can he have the drone do a flyover in case we can’t get close enough?” “You got it, and be careful.” “Always,” said Hubbard and punched off. “Billy, can you get that drone to do a flyover and get pictures of the van and

Hubbard and Ellison? They’re in a golf cart.” “Done,” said Billy. “I’ll have the operator call me as soon as the drone is in the air.” “Good. I’m going to call Burgess.” Billy pointed his thumb and said, “He’s already here.” Burgess strolled up to Pickens and said, “Thought I’d drop in and check on things. The funeral home said the ashes would be ready tomorrow afternoon.” “Uh, Sheriff,” said Billy. “I know, Billy. The drone needs the cover of darkness,” said Pickens. “Burgess, I was about to call you.” Pickens checked Burgess up and down. “I see you changed your shirt but not those disheveled tros, and what’s with the John Deere ball cap? “You like it? It’s my new disguise.” Burgess smiled. “I’m a good old boy.” Pickens shook his head. “Good old boys don’t drive red convertibles.” Burgess waved his hands. “I got rid of it and got a silver pickup truck with an extended cab.” He smiled. “Now you and Detective Amy won’t have to get cozy in the back seat. There’s plenty of room for both of you. Besides, who’d expect to see an FBI agent driving around in a silver pickup truck? And it’s more inconspicuous.” “Not in this county. You’re learning, Burgess. Okay, so here’s what we’ve got so far.” Pickens then launched into a summary of what the drone surveillance had revealed. “That’s amazing,” said Burgess. “Can you show me the video of the car?” Without waiting to be told, Billy pulled up the surveillance video and zoomed in on the vehicle in question. Burgess leaned in for a closer look. “That car’s not part of my detail,” said Burgess. “Could be someone waiting for me to pick up my mom and then ambush us. What do you think, Pickens?”

Pickens rubbed his chin. “I didn’t think it was part of your detail. You may be right about the potential ambush. We’ll have to prepare for it.” “I’ve got to tell you, Pickens, for a small law enforcement office, you’ve got one hell of a sophisticated technical capability. Almost...as good as the FBI.” Pickens grinned. “Welcome to our sophisticated technical command post, courtesy of Corporal Billy Thompson.” Billy’s desk had several computer monitors and keyboards on it. “Without whom, we’d be just another Podunk law enforcement office. Take a bow, Billy.” Billy remained in his chair, but his face was pink. “Oh well,” said Pickens, “Billy’s modest. Anyway, with that vehicle and the van, we need to formulate a new plan. After Hubbard calls with his and Ellison’s reconnaissance, we’ll work on it.” “I agree,” said Burgess. “I don’t relish putting anyone in the crosshairs of an ambush.” Just then, Pickens’s phone chirped. “It’s Hubbard.” Pickens punched answer. “What’s up, Mitch?” “Shit,” said Hubbard, “that’s what. There’s at least two in the van, the enger and a driver. Can’t tell who else is in it, but it looked like the enger could have talked to someone behind him. Bobby couldn’t make out if there was anyone else.” Pickens heard Hubbard draw a deep breath. “Bobby and me don’t like this, Pickens. If the van has more than two people in it, then we could be in for a massive ambush. You’d better come up with a plan for that.” “I hear ya, Mitch. Burgess is here, and together we’ll work on it. We’re not doing anything until Friday. I want us to have a fail-safe plan in place, and we need time to come up with one.” “I agree. So does Bobby. Call me when you have one.” Hubbard punched off. “Pickens, if we’re not moving until Friday, I have to alert my detail, especially the agent acting as my mother and the agent hiding in my dad’s truck in the driveway.” “Do what you gotta do, Burgess; then let’s formulate a fail-safe plan.” “I can help with that,” said Billy. “I’ll have the drone club continue active aerial

surveillance on the van and the other vehicle. If either of them moves, I’ll have the operators report to me, day or night.” “And I have a suggestion,” said Amy. “With the surveillance, if the car follows Burgess’s truck after we leave his parent’s house, Billy can have several patrol cars surround it and take the occupants into custody...hopefully before it can alert the van.” “I like both your suggestions,” said Burgess. “Damn, Pickens, why don’t we leave the whole plan up to Detective Amy and Corporal Billy?” Amy shook her head, as did Billy. “I would, but they both have roles to play...important ones, I might add. Like getting your father’s ashes from the funeral home. Where do we stand on that, Billy?” “I secured a drone that’s similar to the ones experimented on by Amazon and other retailers.” Billy raised his hand. “Don’t ask how I got it.” Pickens never asked Billy where his resources came from but knew Billy had access to things he didn’t. “It will be delivered to the funeral home tomorrow and received by the funeral director’s daughter. She’s a member of my drone club and will operate it. A Speedy Computer Delivery van will deliver it.” Billy again raised his hand and said, “Don’t ask. I need a delivery location.” “How about Bo Tatum’s place?” said Amy. “It’s remote and isolated.” “Good idea,” said Pickens. “I’ll him, and I’m sure he won’t mind.” “That will work,” said Billy. “But I’ll need a landing site.” “How about the bed of a pickup truck?” said Burgess. “No,” replied Pickens. “You’re not suggesting...?” “You got a better idea, Pickens?” “Actually I do,” said Billy. “Betty-Jean has access to a pickup truck—” “Who’s Betty-Jean?” asked Burgess.

“Betty-Jean Carr is a criminalist who works for my wife,” said Pickens. “She was at the scene of your father’s attack with Dr. Morgan.” “And she’s a member of my drone club.” Burgess eyed Billy suspiciously. Neither Pickens nor Billy mentioned Betty-Jean was Billy’s girlfriend. “We’ll take the pickup truck to Tatum’s place and guide the drone onto its bed, then retrieve the package with the ashes. Once we hand off the ashes to your , Burgess, Betty-Jean, and I will take the drone back to where I got it. Then we’ll call the funeral home, send the drone operator home, and we’ll go home.” “How does my find this Tatum’s place?” asked Burgess. “I’ll text you the coordinates, and you can text them to your ,” replied Billy. “I’ll hang a lantern on the gatepost. When she gets there, have her flash her brights. We’ll flash ours, and she can carefully follow her way to us.” “Works for me. Anything else I need to do between now and Friday, Pickens?” “No. Do whatever you want to do but stay out of the public eye. We don’t want you giving it away that you’re in town. Amy and I will see you here Friday morning at eight-thirty. We’ll finalize our plans and then go to your parents’ house.” “Good enough. When this is over, Pickens, my agents and I would like to buy you, Detective Amy, and Billy dinner. Is there a good barbeque t in town? I’d like to feast on a stack of ribs.” Pickens smiled. “Leroy’s Barbeque Pit is the best t, and the owner is my friend. He’ll take good care of you and your agents.” Burgess turned up his palms. “Great. I’ll see you Friday morning,” he said and left. “Okay, Amy, while I call Hubbard, you call Dunne. If she hasn’t checked on the motorcycle, tell her to do it tomorrow. I need her and her deputies available for Friday morning.” Pickens called Hubbard and updated him on the new plan. Amy called Dunne and advised her of Pickens’s request. “All set with Dunne, Amy?”

“She’s ready to go as soon as you give her the word, JD.” Pickens checked the time. It was almost four o’clock. “That took longer than I expected. I’m going to the hospital. Anything changes, call me.” After visiting his father and talking to his mother, Pickens learned his father’s status hadn’t changed, so he went home. He briefed Marge on his plan without going into detail.

CHAPTER 23

“NINE-ONE-ONE, WHAT’S YOUR emergency?” asked Joey Butler, the nighttime emergency dispatcher. “There’s a robbery happening,” said a enger in a moving vehicle. “Oh my God, the man was shot.” “Ma’am, what’s your location?” “We’re in front of the barbeque restaurant. My boyfriend honked the horn and is turning into the parking lot.” “Ma’am, don’t approach the robber.” Butler relayed the call to Emergency Medical Services, and an ambulance was immediately dispatched. Butler then sent the deputy on patrol, Dwayne Lansing, to the scene. Lansing was one of the three African American deputies. “We won’t, but he took off running. We’ll try to help the man.” “No, don’t,” said a worried Butler. “The robber might come back. A deputy is on his way and an ambulance too. What’s your name?” He heard car doors close. “Ma’am, what’s your name?” Concerned, Butler alerted Deputy Lea Abrue, who was at the sheriff’s office on break when the call came in. Abrue left immediately to Deputy Lansing at the crime scene. Knowing Sheriff Pickens would want to be alerted about the shooting because everyone knew that the restaurant owner, Leroy Jones, was Pickens’s best friend, he called the sheriff. Pickens had on several occasions chided Leroy for making nighttime deposits without the aid of a deputy. But Leroy, being over six-feet tall and a former NFL fullback, ignored Pickens. Leroy felt he could handle any situation that might arise since his Wednesday night receipts were barely $1,000. Unfortunately, Leroy was wrong and had gotten shot from behind. Pickens and Marge had just gotten into bed when his phone chirped. He glanced at the phone and saw it was the emergency operator calling.

“Son of a bitch,” said Pickens. “Not another mugging or he wouldn’t call me.” “Language, JD. Sarah might be awake,” said Marge. Pickens breathed. “Sorry,” he said and answered the phone. “Sheriff Pickens. What’s up, Butler?” Pickens waited for Butler to speak. “Out with it, Butler.” “Uh,” said Butler nervously, “there’s been a shooting at Leroy’s Bar-B-Que Pit.” Pickens bolted off the bed. “Is Leroy okay?” Butler swallowed before answering. “No, Sheriff, he’s the victim. I sent an ambulance and Deputies Lansing and Abrue.” Before Butler could say more, Pickens disengaged and started dressing. “JD, what happened to Leroy?” Leroy was Pickens’s best friend, but also his wife, Liana, was Marge’s best friend, and Sarah was Liana’s daughter Annie’s best friend. “He was shot. I gotta go, Marge. Maybe you should call Liana.” “I will after I wake Tom and have him get a team to the restaurant.” “Thanks, but you stay home and be with Sarah. You can get involved tomorrow.” Pickens kissed Marge and left. Marge called Tom Morgan, her assistant, and had him gather a team to handle the crime scene. Deputy Lea Abrue arrived at the crime scene and ed Deputy Lansing. The EMTs had already treated Leroy, and he was in the ambulance. Deputy Lansing was interviewing the witnesses. Abrue approached the EMTs. “Was it serious?” she asked. “He’ll survive,” said the male EMT. “If you want to question him, it will have to wait. He lost a lot of blood, and we need to get him to the hospital.” “Can I at least say something to him?”

“No. We’ve got to go.” A female EMT closed the ambulance doors then walked around to the front of the ambulance, climbed in, and sped off with the emergency lights flashing. Abrue rubbed the back of her head then ed Lansing. Pickens arrived shortly after and approached Abrue. He looked at the ground and saw the blood but no dead body, no chalk outline of one, and felt relieved. “How bad was it, Abrue?” said Pickens. “He lost a lot of blood and was rushed to the hospital. You just missed the ambulance, Sheriff.” Abrue took a deep breath. “I tried to speak to Leroy, but the EMTs wouldn’t let me.” Pickens looked in the direction where he suspected the ambulance had gone, then at Lansing. “You and Lansing have the situation under control?” Abrue glanced at Lansing. “Yes, Sheriff. Why don’t you check on Leroy? I’ll be there after we wrap up here. I’ll also have the witnesses’ statements for you.” Pickens considered staying and interviewing the witnesses himself, but he needed to be at the hospital for his friend. He knew Liana would be there. “I’ll notify Amy and have her come here. She might want to talk to you and Lansing.” Just then, the crime scene van arrived, and Tom Morgan got out, as did BettyJean Carr and Andy Doring, the criminalists. Morgan had no trouble getting them to him as they too knew Leroy was Pickens and Marge’s friend. Pickens tilted his head in the direction of Abrue. “It’s all yours, Tom,” said Pickens. “Deputy Abrue can answer any questions you might have. I’m going to the hospital. Thank goodness there’s no DB.” “Yeah, thank goodness. We’ll process the scene and get you a report ASAP.” Pickens raised a palm and left. Morgan and the criminalists approached Abrue. “Can you pinpoint the location of the shooting, Deputy?” Abrue pointed. “Approximately where the keys are and the drops of blood,”

answered Abrue. “Deputy Lansing was first on the scene and put the markers out to show where the victim was on the ground.” “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.” Abrue nodded, then ed Lansing. “I’ve finished with the witnesses,” said Lansing. “Should I let them go?” “Hold on a second.” Lansing narrowed his eyes as he wondered what Abrue meant. Abrue addressed the witnesses, a female and a male. “You saw the shooting?” she asked. “Not exactly,” said the female. “We saw the man with his hands up and suspected there might be a robbery going down. I heard a gunshot.” “Then I turned into the parking lot and honked the horn to scare the robber,” said the male. “Then I called 9-1-1,” said the female, “and the robber bolted. We waited for the ambulance and a sheriff’s patrol car. We didn’t want to touch the victim.” “Could you tell if it was a male or female, tall, short, any description?” “No,” said the female. “Like I told Deputy Lansing, it happened so quickly.” She looked Abrue up and down. “Best I could say was about your height and wore a hoodie.” Abrue looked at Lansing and said, “So not as tall as Deputy Lansing?” “That’s what I told him.” “What about you?” Abrue asked the male. “Can you give a description?” “Like I told the deputy, I was focusing on my driving as I turned into the parking lot. But I could tell the person was wearing a hoodie.” “Why were you in the neighborhood?” asked Abrue. “We were hoping the restaurant was still open and could get takeout,” said the female.

“Okay, thanks,” said Abrue. “You two plan on leaving the area anytime soon?” “No ma’am,” said the male. “Good. We may need to ask you more questions.” Abrue turned to Lansing. “You got their info, Deputy?” “Yes, Deputy,” he replied with his eyes narrowed as if annoyed. “And their statements,” he said curtly. Abrue ignored Lansing. “You can go now,” said Abrue. The witnesses got in their vehicle and left. Abrue made a mental note of the license plate number. “Did I do something wrong, Abrue? I asked all those questions and wrote their answers on my pad.” Abrue raised her palm. “No, you did the right thing.” Abrue took out her phone and wrote the license plate in her memo app. “Write this number down.” She gave him the number, and Lansing wrote it on his pad. “I like to hear for myself what witnesses say and observe their manner of speech and body language. The sheriff and Amy will ask if we did and question the responses, especially in this case. It’s not , Lansing. It’s about Leroy. He’s the sheriff’s best friend and means a lot to his wife, his daughter, Amy and Billy.” Abrue took a deep breath. “Trust me. This case will be a high priority. Everyone will have questions, including the CSU.” Morgan approached the two deputies. “We didn’t find any casings, so I suspect the weapon was most likely a small-caliber revolver.” “There was only one gunshot according to the witnesses,” said Lansing before Abrue could respond. “That’s helpful,” said Morgan. “The slug might be in Leroy, or if it was a through and through”—Morgan glanced at the area where Leroy’s truck was parked—”it’s over there somewhere. We’ll mark the area with crime scene tape and come back tomorrow with a metal detector.” Morgan held up the set of keys. “Besides these, was there a wallet?” Abrue looked at Lansing. “No sir,” said Lansing. “Just the keys.”

“Hmm. Maybe the EMTs took it.” Lansing shook his head. “They didn’t. I’m positive because I arrived before them, and all I saw was the set of keys on the ground. After the EMTs left, I put those markers out.” Lansing pointed to the markers on the ground. “Each one indicates the position of the victim. The one on the left is where the keys were.” “Interesting,” said Morgan. “My guess is it was a robbery gone wrong, and I’ll put that in my report.” Morgan looked at the spot of blood on the ground. “Which way was the—” Morgan paused; he didn’t want to say the body— “was the victim facing on the ground?” “Why is that important?” asked Amy, who had just arrived on the scene. Abrue and Lansing stiffened. They hadn’t expected Amy to be on the scene so quickly, especially Abrue. Both acknowledged her presence with a raised hand. Amy returned their acknowledgment. “Evening, Amy,” said Morgan. “It helps us determine what actually happened, especially since I believe this was a robbery gone wrong based on what little evidence we have. And if they find a slug in Leroy, let me know so I don’t waste my time looking for it over there.” Morgan pointed to where Leroy’s truck was. Amy looked in that direction, then around the parking lot. She’d never been in the lot except Friday nights when customers’ vehicles packed it. Now it reminded her of a shuttered business that had fallen on hard times. “It will save us a lot of time to work the case,” said Morgan and noticed Amy glancing around the parking lot. “You see something we might have missed, Amy?” Amy shook her head. “No. It’s just...I’ve never seen the parking lot so deserted, especially since Leroy’s is such a popular restaurant.” “Yeah, it sure is,” said Morgan. “So, Deputies, which way was the victim facing on the ground?” “His head was here,” said Lansing pointing to one of the markers nearest him. “And his feet were pointing—” Lansing pointed toward the restaurant—“that way.”

Morgan rubbed his chin. “Are you sure?” “I’m positive. Why?” “Because,” said Betty-Jean Carr who had outlined a body using the markers to indicate the position of the victim. “It suggests—” “Leroy might have seen the shooter,” said Morgan. “I don’t understand,” said Amy. “How can you tell?” Morgan dropped the keys on the ground next to the marker Lansing had pointed to and the right side of the outline Betty-Jean had made. “If the keys were here and Leroy’s head was facing—” Morgan pointed toward the street— “that way, and if he got shot in the back, then he managed to turn around and face the shooter.” “I still don’t see it,” said Amy. “Come over here.” Morgan walked over to where the outline and Lansing’s marker indicated Leroy’s feet. Amy ed him. “For the keys to be on this side, Leroy had to have been facing toward the street when he dropped the keys because I’m certain Leroy is right-handed. That’s how.” Amy scratched her chin. “Okay, now I see it. You’re right. Leroy is right-handed. If he saw the shooter, he might be able to identify him or her.” Abrue and Lansing both glanced at each other. “I said ‘him or her’ because it could have been either one. Put that in your report, Dr. Morgan.” “I will. I’ll put everything we talked about in my report. We’re done here for now. We’re leaving and will be back tomorrow to look for a slug.” “Go ahead. We’ve got it,” said Amy. Morgan signaled for the criminalists to get in the van; then they left. Amy approached the two deputies. “Were there any witnesses?” “Two,” said Lansing before Abrue could respond. “I’ve got their statements in my pad.”

“I interviewed them too,” interrupted Abrue and told Amy why and what she had learned. “Do you have any opinion about them, Abrue?” “Just a gut feeling. Something didn’t seem right. I had Lansing copy down their license plate in case you wanted it.” “I want it.” Amy turned to Lansing. “Send it to Billy with a copy of your report. You too, Abrue.” Amy looked at the spot where there was blood, then stood a few feet from it. “Could the witnesses tell how far from Leroy the shooter was?” “No,” said Abrue. “As I said, both were in their vehicle. The driver honked his horn, and the shooter bolted.” “That’s not going to help us. We’ll have to make do with your reports. Good job, both of you. I’m going to the hospital. I’ll see you in the morning.” “Both of us?” asked Lansing. “Yes, Deputy, both of you.” Amy nodded her head, then left. “Told you this case would be a high priority,” said Abrue. “Is that why you interrupted me?” Abrue grinned. “Yes. Get over yourself, Lansing. It won’t be the first time someone interrupts you. I’m leaving. See you in the morning.” Lansing’s expression was slack-jawed, which reflected his confusion.

CHAPTER 24

PICKENS WENT RIGHT to the emergency room as soon as he entered the hospital. Liana, Leroy’s wife, was waiting. The last time Pickens had come to the hospital to meet with a shooting victim’s spouse was when he met Deputy Jason Conlon’s pregnant wife. The outcome of that shooting resulted in Conlon’s death and his wife going into labor and giving birth to a daughter. Pickens hoped this time it would be different. Pickens thought about when he and Leroy were fishing and got the call that they had better get to the hospital, and quick. That was when Marge gave birth to Sarah, and Liana gave birth to Annie. He wished Marge was here now as she’d know how to react to Liana. To his surprise, next to Liana sat Marge, Sarah, and Annie. Marge stood. “No word yet, JD.” Pickens was relieved Marge hadn’t said, Leroy didn’t make it. Pickens breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s still in surgery.” “I didn’t expect to see you, but thank goodness you’re here.” Marge smiled. “I wasn’t about to stay home and let Liana handle this by herself. Sarah insisted we come.” Sarah smiled. Pickens acknowledged it with his smile. Pickens approached Liana, who sat with her face in her hands and trembled. Pickens heard the soft sound of her sobbing. It was similar to when Deputy Conlon had gotten shot. Liana looked up and had tears in her eyes. She stood and clung to Pickens. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m worried, JD,” Liana said amid painful sobs and worried circles under her eyes. Pickens stroked Liana’s back and bit his lip. “I am too, but Leroy is tough as nails, and he’ll get through this.” Pickens then said to himself, Please, God, help Leroy get through this. He’s a good man and one of your shepherds. Pickens meant that literally as Leroy was the AME church pastor and worked with teenagers, especially troubled ones.

Liana stepped back. “Who would do this to him, JD? Leroy has never hurt anyone, and he’s a good man.” Pickens inhaled, attempting to control his emotions. “I don’t know, but my deputies and I will find out and punish whoever did this.” Just then, a doctor approached. “Mrs. Jones, I’m Dr. Smathers.” She acknowledged Pickens and Marge with a nod. “I’m the one who operated on your husband,” said Dr. Smathers as she approached Liana with confident ease. “Is he okay?” asked Liana as her eyebrows drew together in worry. “Yes. He’s still under the effects of the anesthesia, but you can see him once he’s in his room.” Liana clutched Pickens’s hand. “He should be there shortly. JD knows which room. It’s the same one he was in.” “Were there any complications, Elaine?” asked Marge. “Fortunately, no. The bullet entered his lower back and exited below his rib cage. It missed his vital organs.” She turned to Liana. “Mrs. Jones, your husband is one lucky man. He’ll have to stay in the hospital at least two weeks and wear a bandage to avoid any infections. A nurse will change the bandage every few days.” “Thank you, Dr. Smathers. Can my daughter go with me to my husband’s room?” “Absolutely, but maybe JD and Marge should wait until in the morning. We don’t want JD asking questions.” “He won’t,” said Marge. “Liana, we’ll come back in the morning.” Pickens was about to object, but Marge tugged on his arm. “Let’s go, JD. Sarah has school in the morning.” Sarah was also about to object, but Marge narrowed her eyes, and Sarah relented. “Thanks, Marge,” said Liana. “JD, I’ll tell Leroy you’ll see him in the morning. Come on, Annie, let’s go see Daddy.” Pickens nodded, then he, Marge, and Sarah started to leave.

“I’ll walk with you, JD,” said Dr. Smathers. As they walked toward the entrance, Pickens asked, “Is there something on your mind, Elaine?” “Yes. First your father, then two older men, and now Leroy. What’s happening, JD?” Pickens shrugged. “Leroy wasn’t part of that, and my deputies will find out. I wish I had an answer.” “You’ll find one, Daddy,” said Sarah. “You always do. Can we visit Grandpa?” “No,” said Marge. “It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.” Sarah bowed her head and pouted. “Your daughter has more confidence in you than you have in yourself, JD,” said Dr. Smathers. “I also believe you’ll find an answer.” Pickens smiled. “With that much confidence in me, I’d better find an answer. Thanks, Elaine.” Dr. Smathers nodded. “You’re welcome.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat. “Here’s a souvenir for you.” She held up a slug. “We took it out of Leroy.” Marge snatched it out Dr. Smathers’s fingers. “I’ll take that. It looks like it’s from a .22 caliber pistol and it’s evidence. We’ll run ballistics on it.” Pickens shrugged. “She’s the boss when it comes to ballistics.” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Okay, now take your family home. I’ve got patients to attend to,” she said and walked away. Before crossing the parking lot, Pickens stopped and looked both ways. He wasn’t taking any chances on someone lurking in the shadows and attacking him and his family. “Elaine sure has a great bedside manner, doesn’t she, Marge? Just not with me.” “Can you blame her? Look what she had to deal with. No doctor would have a

great bedside manner with a patient like you. I’m surprised she had patience with you.” “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you two at home, and drive safely.” “Bye, Daddy,” said Sarah. “Bye, sweetheart.” Pickens winked at Marge. “I’ll see you at home.” As Pickens was getting into his SUV, Amy caught up with him. “How’s he doing?” she asked. “He’s out of surgery, and his wife and daughter are with him. He’ll recover. I’ll come by in the morning.” “That’s good. When you talk to Leroy, ask him if he saw the shooter. Tom Morgan thinks he did; based on the forensics at the scene and the angle at which Leroy was on the ground.” Amy didn’t want to say the body. “Thanks, I will. Go home now. I’ll see you after I talk to Leroy.” “Does this change our plans for Friday?” Pickens winced at the thought of having to delay their plans. “I’ll decide after I talk to Leroy. Goodnight, Amy.”

* * *

Thursday morning, Pickens went directly to the hospital from home to see Leroy. Before going to Leroy’s room, he stopped at his father’s room to say hello to his mother. “Hey, Mom, how are you?” Jeanette stood and smiled. “I’m fine, JD, and glad you stopped by.” She nodded toward Russell. “Your dad’s condition hasn’t changed. I’d wake him, but it’s better he slept. I kept him up most of the night. Well...he just listened to me.”

“That’s great, Mom. I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s someone I need to talk to.” Pickens didn’t want to alarm his mother by saying it was Leroy. She had known Leroy since Pickens and Leroy were boys in high school. Jeanette grinned. “Okay, I know you’re busy. Stop by again as soon as you can.” “Maybe later this afternoon,” he said and left reluctantly. Down the hall was Leroy’s room, and that’s where Pickens headed. Leroy lay in bed, which was raised so he could watch television. He had a cannula in his nose and an IV in his right arm. Pickens approached the bedside. “Hey, buddy, how ya doing?” “JD. Good to see you,” Leroy said and shook his head. “How am I doing? I feel like a whole defensive line ran me over, and it’s worse than a linebacker blindsiding me.” Leroy glanced at his arm. “What do they have you on for pain? Morphine?” “Morphine? Heck no. Liana wouldn’t let them give me morphine. They got me on something else, but I can’t what it is.” “It’s not important, Leroy, but I want to ask you a few questions. It’s important if I’m going to catch the guy who shot you.” “You want to know if I saw the guy, don’t you?” “Yeah. Did you? Tom Morgan thinks you did; based on the forensics at the scene.” Leroy’s face went vacant. “You did, didn’t you? Help me out here, old buddy.” “It wasn’t a guy. It was a...a kid.” “A kid? Like a teenager?” “Not just any teenager, JD. I think the kid was in our youth program. “Tell me how you saw him and know this.” “He came up from behind, and I heard him say, ‘Don’t turnaround.’ I could tell

he was scared. Then he said. ‘Give me the night drop bag, and I’ll be on my way.’” Leroy drew a deep breath then continued. “I was sure the kid was from my youth center, and I could reason with him, so I started to turn around. I got a quick glimpse of him, and then I felt the searing pain in my back. It was bad. Did Morgan recover the night bag?” “What night bag?” “I had it in my left hand and my keys in my right. I must have dropped both when my knees buckled.” Leroy frowned. “Sorry, JD, that’s the last I until I woke up here.” Pickens scratched his chin. “I’ll ask Morgan and my deputies about the night bag. But, Leroy, how many times have I told you about making night deposits by yourself?” Leroy grinned. “More times than I care to . You gonna chide me again when I’m in my hospital bed?” “No. Just making a comment, you son of a gun. What are you going to do about the restaurant?” “Liana can handle it. My assistant chef can handle the kitchen, and Liana can handle the restaurant side, but she’ll need help with Annie, getting her home from school.” “I’ll have Marge take care of it, and I’ll help out Friday and Saturday nights like I used to do during football season. That way I’ll be there when Liana closes.” “Thanks, partner. I’ll make it up to you when we go fishing.” Leroy grinned. “I’ll let you catch more fish than me.” Pickens rolled his eyes. “You’ll let me catch more fish? That’ll be the day. I catch more than you when I’m blindfolded.” “In your dreams, Pickens.” “In yours. I’ve got to go be a sheriff. Is there anything I can do before I leave?” “Yeah, you can do me a big favor. Hold off on finding the kid. I have a good

feeling he was so scared that when he comes to his senses, he’ll regret what he did and turn himself in. Please, JD, wait a few days. Do it for me.” Pickens breathed a heavy sigh. “Leroy, you know I have a duty to investigate and catch the kid.” “I know, but do it for me. Please, JD?” Pickens rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head. “I’m gonna regret this, Leroy, but I will. If the kid doesn’t turn himself in by the end of the week, my deputies and I are going to question every kid at your youth center. That you have my word on.” “I hear ya. Thanks, Sheriff Pickens.” Pickens bit his lip, shook his head, said goodbye, and left. The thought of doing nothing to catch the kid who shot his best friend left Pickens’s mind in agony.

CHAPTER 25

AMY WAS THE first to see Pickens walk into the sheriff’s office. She was eager to find out what Pickens had learned and what he planned to do about the attack on Leroy. Before Amy could ask, Pickens raised his palm. “We’re not changing anything. What happened to Leroy is a priority, but he asked we hold off a day or so. I promised him I’d wait.” “But, JD,” said Amy, “the quicker we do something, the better chance we have of catching the guy. We can’t stand around and do nothing.” Pickens took a deep breath to control his temper. “We’re not doing nothing. We’re being patient. Leroy thinks it was a kid who shot him.” Pickens then explained what Leroy told him in the hospital and Leroy’s request. “I’d rather we do something to catch the kid, but I promised Leroy.” “What ing Nosey?” asked Billy. “He could write an article about Leroy getting shot. Maybe the shooter will see it and decide to confess like the DaMothe girl did.” Billy shrugged. “It can’t hurt.” “It’s not breaking your promise, JD,” said Amy. Pickens rubbed his chin. “I guess so. Call him, Amy, but don’t give him too much. Get me the reports from last night. I want to review them.” “Both deputies typed them up this morning,” said Amy, then reached for the folder on her desk and handed it to Pickens. “They’re in here. Anything special you’re looking for?” “Yeah. Leroy said he had a night drop bag in his left hand. I want to know what happened to it.” “I can save you the time,” said Amy. “I read both reports, and there’s nothing about a night drop bag, just his keys.”

Pickens narrowed his eyes. “How’s that possible? Leroy said there was cash in it. Check with Abrue and Lansing. Find out if they know what happened to it.” “You don’t think—” said Billy. “I’m not thinking anything. If Leroy said he had a bag with cash in it, I believe him.” Pickens’s nostrils flared. “Do what I said and ask Abrue and Lansing. And do it now.” “JD?” said Amy. “What?” “We’ve got company,” she said and tilted her head toward the entrance. Standing there was Noseby, the reporter, with a shit-eating grin and a royal wave. “Shit. You deal with him. I’ll be in my office, and don’t disturb me.” Pickens walked away, went into his office, and slammed the door. Amy waved Noseby over. “What do you want, Nosey? We’re busy here.” “It’s...oh, forget it. My sources tell me there was a shooting at Leroy’s restaurant last night, and the victim is in the hospital.” Noseby grinned. “Care to comment?” Amy sat at her desk. “Yeah, I do.” The reporter took out his pad and a pen. “There was a shooting there, and the victim is in the hospital in critical condition.” Noseby rapidly made notes. “You know the drill. I can’t say who the victim was, but he is well known.” Amy decided to let the reporter use his discretion. “We have several leads and expect to apprehend someone soon. That’s all I can tell you because it’s an ongoing investigation.” The reporter stopped writing and gave her an incredulous stare. “Come on, Amy, that’s what you say when you want to keep me in the dark. You gotta give me something more.” Amy grinned. “Nope. That’s all I’ve got to say. You can use it or not. It’s up to you.” She smiled. “Have a nice day, Nosey. I’m busy now—” She waved him off — “be a good boy and be on your way.” The reporter opened his mouth to object, but Amy cut him off. “Get going before I place you under arrest for

tresing.” “You wouldn’t...” Amy glared at him. “Okay...I’m leaving.” He turned and left. “Nice job, Amy,” said Billy. “Think it will work?” “I hope so. It worked last time with DaMothe. We’ll have to wait and see.” Pickens emerged from his office and said, “Is he gone?” Amy nodded. “Think it will work?” “Oh yeah,” replied Amy. “Good. Now let’s work on the plan. Billy, are things set for tonight?” “Yes, sir. Everything will go off just after dusk.” “Good. Amy, you ready for tomorrow morning?” She took her weapon out of her desk drawer and held it up. “Locked and loaded.” Pickens shook his head. “Any problems, Billy, let me know. I’m gonna Hubbard and make sure he and Ellison are ready. Then I’ll call Burgess and set up the time for him to pick us up.” Pickens made the calls. Hubbard and Ellison were ready and would be at the cemetery before the funeral home opened, dressed as maintenance workers. Burgess would pick up Pickens and Amy at nine o’clock. As a precaution, Pickens had Deputy Abrue dress in civvies, use her personal vehicle, and report to the funeral home in the morning as an employee. Friday morning, Billy would be in charge of logistics and the drone reconnaissance. Shortly after dusk, the drone was successfully launched as scheduled from the funeral home and delivered the ashes to Billy and Betty-Jean at Tatum’s place. Burgess’s received the ashes, texted Mission accomplished to Burgess, and was on her way to get the cremains to his mother. Billy and Betty-Jean returned the drone to its origin and then went home.

CHAPTER 26

FRIDAY MORNING, PICKENS and Amy prepared to meet Burgess at the curb outside the sheriff’s office. Both had their sidearms on and radios, and as an extra precaution, each had a shotgun. Pickens received a text from Burgess that said, Outside waiting. As they were leaving, Billy pointed at them and said, “Stay safe and get it done.” Pickens and Amy pointed back and said, “Will do, and we’ve got it.” Burgess’s truck was idling as he waited for Pickens and Amy. Pickens let Amy get in the rear seat first, then entered after her. They put their shotguns between them. “Good morning, Burgess,” said Amy. Burgess turned his head. “Good morning, Detective, and you too, Pickens.” “You ready to do this, Burgess?” said Pickens. Burgess lifted an AK-47 rifle and said, “Si, amigo.” He then pulled away from the curb and headed for his parents’ house. Pickens rolled his eyes, then radioed Billy. “We’re moving.” Billy lit up the monitor that revealed the locations of the drones. He then radioed the operators. “The package is on the move.” Four drones lifted off. One headed for the funeral home and the cemetery to recon the van hidden in the bushes off the roadway. Another headed for Burgess’s parents’ house to scour the neighborhood for suspicious vehicles. Another headed to the location where the vehicle that didn’t belong to Burgess’s detail had been spotted to keep eyes on it. The fourth drone followed Burgess’s truck as it left the sheriff’s office. When Burgess entered the little community where his parents lived, Pickens noticed all the homes were similar and all the lawns manicured. Pickens wondered if John Doyle mowed his or hired someone to do it as most retirees in

Florida did. It looked like a typical Florida community of retirees and working adults with no children. The Doyle residence looked like all the other homes. In the driveway was a dark green pickup truck. Pickens figured it was probably the one Burgess’s father drove. Burgess pulled into the driveway and parked beside the truck. “I’ll be right out,” said Burgess, then got out of his truck and entered the house through the back door. “I don’t see the agent Burgess said was in that truck,” said Amy. “With all the dark window tint, I wouldn’t expect to, but I bet she’s in there.” Minutes later, Burgess and a woman dressed in black with a scarf covering her face exited the house. Burgess opened the enger side door, let the woman enter, and then entered on the driver’s side. “Sheriff Pickens and Detective Amy, meet my mother, Agent Gina Sardonia.” The woman nodded, didn’t reply, and didn’t remove her scarf nor offer her hand. Pickens said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Amy said the same. The woman acknowledged their greeting with the wave of a black-gloved hand. Burgess backed out of the driveway and drove down the street. He had gone less than a mile when Billy radioed Pickens. “Sheriff, you’ve picked up a tail. “Okay. Are Dunne and the deputies in place?” “Yes, but...” Billy was about to say something else when Agent Sardonia got a call. Pickens and Amy tried in vain to hear what she was saying. Burgess slapped the steering wheel with the butt of his palm. “Shit. Which one?” he said. “Douglas,” replied Sardonia. Pickens turned his attention from Burgess and Sardonia back to Billy. Then he

yelled at Burgess. “What the hell’s happening, Burgess? We just picked up another tail.” “I’ve got a dirty agent, Pickens. Alert your deputies that the pickup and another sedan are mine and are chasing him.” Pickens relayed the information to Billy. Amy put her hand on her sidearm. Pickens got another call from Billy and said, “At the next intersection, Burgess, don’t stop. Go through it and hit the gas pedal.” Burgess complied, and once they were through the intersection, two patrol cars driven by Deputies Ortiz and Lansing blocked the vehicle. Then two unmarked cars driven by Dunne and Jackson blocked its rear. The four deputies were immediately out of their vehicles, surrounded it, and apprehended the two occupants without resistance. Next, Dunne and Jackson took a shooting stance and pointed to the approaching car with the dirty FBI agent in it. Pickens radioed Dunne. “Detective, stop that vehicle. Use lethal force if necessary.” Burgess yelled, “Pickens, what the hell are you doing?” “My job. I hate dirty cops, and I hate dirty FBI agents even more. Keep driving, Burgess.” The approaching vehicle slowed to a stop. The FBI agents stopped behind it and got out with their guns pointed. The driver’s side window of the stopped vehicle rolled down, and two arms extended from the vehicle. In one hand was a government-issued M1911 pistol with the barrel pointing down. Jackson and the female agent approached carefully. Jackson grabbed the weapon, then handed it to the agent. He looked through the window to see if there was anyone else inside. Seeing no one, he instructed the driver to get out and face the side of the vehicle. Jackson shoved the guy against the car and cuffed him. Dunne radioed Pickens. “Mission accomplished without incident.” Pickens said to Burgess, “Yours’ or ours?”

Burgess hesitated, but Agent Sardonia said, “Burgess, he’s still one of ours.” “I need an answer, Burgess.” Burgess slapped the steering wheel. “Give the son of a bitch to my agents.” Pickens radioed the information to Dunne, then had her and Jackson proceed to the funeral home but keeping at least a half a mile back. “Okay, Burgess,” said Pickens, “let’s get out of this residential area. Make a right at the next stop sign. It’s a direct route to the highway, and then make a left.” Pickens received another radio transmission from Billy. “Sheriff, do we have anyone else tracking the van?” “Not that I’m aware of. Why?” “There’s a vehicle approaching the van about a mile back.” “Burgess, you have any more agents in the area?” “Nope. It’s just Sardonia and me.” Pickens looked at Amy. She was just as concerned as he was. Pickens knew that all his deputies except one were part of the convoy. “Detective Dunne, where is Bosnik?” “She’s covering the Warfield office. Why?” Pickens didn’t want to panic and asked Dunne, “Is she on this frequency?” “No. You told me to keep her off it. She’s on our normal frequency.” Pickens could hear the concern in Dunne’s voice. “Sheriff,” said Billy, “I can switch frequencies and call her.” “Do it.” “Pickens,” said Burgess, “you got a dirty cop on your hands?” “Shut up, Burgess.” Pickens waited anxiously for Billy’s call.

“Sheriff,” said Billy, “Bosnik is there. I had her switch to this frequency.” Pickens relaxed. “Good thinking. Bosnik, you listening?” “Yes, Sheriff.” “We may not need you, but be alert in case we do.” “Ten-four, Sheriff.” “Sheriff, we’ve got a big problem,” said Billy. “That vehicle is pulling alongside the van. It looks like there’s a conversation between the occupants.” “Shit. I’ll call Hubbard and see if he can tell how many we’re up against.” Pickens made the call. “Pickens,” said Hubbard, “are we still on plan?” “Mitch, we’ve got a problem. Can you see the van?” “Hold on. I’ll have Bobby use his binoculars. Bobby, see if you can see the van from here.” “Can we handle more than four, JD?” asked Amy. “We’re four. Hubbard, Ellison, and Abrue make seven, and Dunne and Jackson make nine. Bosnik makes ten if we need her. I hope it’s all we need.” “Yeah. I do too,” said Burgess. Pickens and Amy rolled their eyes. “Pickens,” said Hubbard, “Bobby couldn’t see it, but there’s another vehicle next to it.” “I know, Mitch. I need to know how many occupants there are.” “Bobby said he couldn’t tell. But there are at least three between the two vehicles.” “Shit. Mitch, you and Bobby get ready for an all-out war. I’ll alert my deputy in the funeral home.”

“Gonna be like old times for Bobby and me, Pickens. We’ve been through it before, and we’re still alive. We’ll be ready. Just make sure you are.” “We’re ready, Mitch. There’s nine, maybe ten of us.” “Good planning, Pickens. See you on the back end.” Pickens looked at Amy. She grinned and said, “Does he mean as cops or as in the military?” “Who knows with those two, and who cares? I’m glad they’re on our side.” “Me too,” said Burgess. “Detective Dunne, were you listening?” “Yes, Sheriff.” “You and Jackson stay behind us and keep a safe distance. I want a surprise attack.” “Good thinking, Pickens,” said Burgess. “Sheriff,” said Dunne, “a pickup truck just got behind us.” “That’s my agent, Pickens. Sardonia texted her to us.” “It’s okay, Detective Dunne. It’s part of our convoy.” Burgess hung a right at the next stop sign, proceeded to the highway, and made a left. What Pickens called a highway was only two lanes but wide enough for a car to another, with shoulders on each side. They were no longer in a residential area. “You call this a highway, Pickens?” said Burgess. “It’s a roadway.” “Just drive, Burgess. The county calls it a highway, so I do.” They were approaching the cemetery and the funeral home. On their right, they could see gravesites and a sign that read Heavenly Hills Cemetery. The cemetery wrapped around the funeral home, and they shared the same entrance.

“Slow down, Burgess,” said Pickens. “The entrance is on your right. Also, I want to know if the van and that car start moving.” Pickens radioed Billy. “Any movement, Billy?” “They must have spotted you, Sheriff, because they’re moving toward the entrance.” “Okay. Let me know when they get closer. Bosnik, you listening?” “Yes, Sheriff.” “Stay back until Billy says they’re almost at the entrance. Then move into position behind them.” “Ten-Four, Sheriff.” “Amy, call Hubbard and alert him.” Amy followed his order. “Detective Dunne, you and Jackson move into position behind us. Be ready to come out with your guns ready to fire.” “Will do,” said Dunne. “Is Hubbard ready, Amy?” “He said they were locked and loaded.” Pickens grinned. “Burgess, are you and Sardonia ready?” Sardonia raised her Glock 17 9mm handgun, and Burgess said, “Locked and loaded.” Pickens and Amy rolled their eyes. Then Pickens said to everyone except Hubbard and Ellison, who couldn’t hear, “Let’s do this.” Burgess rolled up to the entrance and turned right at the sign that read, Lordens’ Funeral Home and Mortuary. “Sheriff, the vehicles are moving,” said Billy. “Approaching the entrance. Wait, the van stopped. Six people exited and are armed. They’re moving across the cemetery grounds toward you. The car is almost at the entrance.”

“Bosnik,” said Pickens, “move into position behind the car. Abrue, get ready. Detective Dunne, it’s going down. You and Jackson, be ready.” Amy had already called Hubbard and alerted him there were six bogies headed their way on foot. Burgess entered the funeral home’s parking lot with the convoy behind him. It looked like a funeral possession with Burgess leading it. Jackson and the FBI agent stayed behind and blocked the entrance to the parking lot. The car slowed behind them, and Bosnik bumped into its rear end, rattling the occupants. Jackson, the FBI agent, and Bosnik immediately surrounded the vehicle with their weapons readied. They had done it so quickly the occupants hadn’t had a chance to make a move for their guns. Jackson breached the driver’s side window with the butt of his gun, then shoved it in the driver’s face. The FBI agent did the same at the enger side window. Bosnik stood next to her and breached the rear enger window. The four occupants were surprised, tossed their weapons out the windows, then got out and were handcuffed. “Four down, Sheriff,” said Jackson.” “Be sure they’re down for good, Jackson.” Jackson looked at the FBI agent and Bosnik. He wasn’t sure what Pickens meant. Should they shoot the four or something else? “I think he means they can’t get loose and the fight, Deputy,” said the FBI agent. “Here, use these zip ties.” She tossed several to Jackson and Bosnik. “I never leave home without them.” Jackson and Bosnik shoved the captives onto the ground, to their stomachs, then zip-tied their wrists and ankles. “Maybe we should roll my truck over them,” said the agent. “No, don’t!” shouted one of the captives. “We’re not going anywhere!” “Damn straight you’re not,” said the agent. “Bosnik,” said Jackson, “position yourself here and keep an eye on these guys. The agent and I will position ourselves behind her truck and aid in the fight. But if you’re needed, be ready.”

For Jackson, the scene brought back memories of the night he’d gotten behind the hood of his patrol car to return fire after Jason Conlon was fatally shot during the ambush by Parks and Teeks. He would learn later that Parks and Teeks were targeting all law enforcement, not just them. The agent tossed her weapon into the cab of her truck, took out an AK-47, and aimed toward the cemetery. “Sheriff,” said Billy, “they’re getting close.” “I see them. Thanks.” The scene reminded Pickens of a movie he’d watched with his father as a kid about the D-Day invasion of Normandy...except GIs weren’t crossing the beaches—the enemy was—and they were crossing a cemetery as the good guys lay in wait. The enemy trampled the hallowed ground, practically knocking over headstones. They had no respect for the dead and must not have served in the military as they were bunched up instead of spread out. Pickens and Amy got behind Burgess’s truck with their shotguns ready. Burgess aimed his AK- 47. Dunne was behind her car, and Hubbard and Ellison took a position behind a crypt. Their position was on the enemy’s right flank. As they got closer, Pickens called out, “Don’t fire until I give the order!” Saying the whites of their eyes would have proved to be too late in this circumstance. Considering the operation was at the behest of Burgess, Pickens hoped Burgess wouldn’t do something to muck things up and the enemy would surrender without bloodshed. When the lead assailant pointed his weapon, Pickens yelled, “Burgess, hold—!” But Burgess fired and hit the lead assailant center mass. The female agent dropped another. Hubbard and Ellison instinctively fired, killing two more. The remaining two dropped their weapons and raised their hands. Before Pickens could say anything, Burgess raced toward the two men. Hubbard and Ellison did the same. When Burgess reached them, he shouted, “Which one of you killed my father”

They looked at each other, and then one of them, with beads of sweat on his forehead, said, “The first one you killed.” Burgess walked over to the body and aimed his weapon. Hubbard grabbed his arm. “It’s over, Agent. Don’t waste a bullet or you’ll live to regret it.” Burgess drew a deep breath and lowered his weapon. “Maybe for him but not for the son-of-a bitch who ordered him to kill my dad. Somehow I’ll get justice for it.” Pickens, Amy, and Dunne fell in with the group. Pickens knew he had a clusterfuck on his hands but also knew how Burgess felt. He might have done the same thing if his father had died. “You okay, Burgess?” said Pickens. “No, but at least I know for now my mother and my family are safe.” He bit his lip. “Now I have to make sure they stay that way.” “Anything I can do, just ask.” “Thanks, but it’s my fight now. First, I have to plug a leak, and I know where to start. What are you going to do about the bodies, Pickens?” Pickens looked around at the carnage. “Technically I think they belong to the FBI.” “Technically yes, but they’re in your jurisdiction.” Burgess glanced at his truck and managed a grin. “We could pile them in the pickup trucks if you’d like.” “Not a good idea.” Pickens glanced at the funeral home. “Maybe we should put them in the funeral home. They can handle dead bodies and maybe keep them on ice until we decide who they belong to.” Burgess smiled. “Or they could cremate them and dispose of the ashes. I think that’s a better idea.” “Burgess, get serious. Okay, I’ve got another idea. I’ll call the ME and have her send the coroner’s van to gather the bodies and take them to the morgue until the FBI takes possession. Your case, your bodies. We’ve spent too much time here

trampling on the dead. End of discussion.” Pickens pointed to the two prisoners and said, “What about those two and the other four?” “Hmm,” said Burgess. “I could load them into the pickup trucks and take them off your hands. But what would I do with them? Can you hold them in jail for something until I talk to my boss?” Pickens scratched his chin. “I could hold them on illegal tresing armed with weapons. Maybe the other four for concealed weapons without a permit. But not for long. How’s that work?” “I like how you think, Pickens. I’ll have the bodies, both dead and alive, gone by Wednesday at the latest as soon as the FBI can come up with a reason to take them off your hands.” “Works for me, but the sooner the better.” “Pickens, about dinner this evening...I’m afraid I have to beg off. My agents and I have to get out of Dodge. I spoke to my superiors last night, and I’ve been ordered back to headquarters. They don’t want me going Rambo and chasing after bad guys and spoiling their case. Damn, I was looking forward to a pile of ribs.” Pickens was glad Burgess had lightened up. “No problem. I have to work at the restaurant tonight anyway and couldn’t have ed you.” Burgess gasped. “I’m doing a favor for the owner. He’s my best friend.” “Good for you. I guess this is goodbye, then. Thanks for helping. I guess you can relax now.” Pickens rubbed the back of his neck. “Wish I could. I have a shooting to solve, as well as an attempted mugging and an attack on one of our senior citizens.” “Damn, Pickens, you’ve been busy. That’s more cases than I’ve had to work the past year.” “Burgess,” said Pickens, “you were undercover, .” Burgess smiled. “Oh yeah. Well, it’s still more than I work in any given year. You riding with me?”

“I think Amy and I will ride with my deputies.” Pickens raised his hand. “Take care, Burgess, and I won’t say it’s been a pleasure—because it wasn’t.” Burgess grinned. “Take care, Pickens.” Burgess signaled for his agents; then he and Sardonia got in his truck, the other agent got in her truck, and they were gone. “Pickens,” said Hubbard, “what are you gonna do with the bodies, the prisoners, and the blood?” Pickens explained to Hubbard what he and Burgess had decided. “Got a suggestion about the blood?” Hubbard glanced at the carnage. “Since Bobby and me are supposed to be maintenance workers, why don’t we cover it over with dirt? We’ll make sure no one can see it.” Pickens exhaled. “I don’t have a better idea, so you take care of it. But wait until the bodies and prisoners are gone.” Hubbard grinned. “On it, Sheriff.” Pickens rolled his eyes just as Amy approached. “What was that all about, JD?” Pickens told her about his conversation with Hubbard and the one with Burgess. “Burgess is gone, but we won’t forget him anytime soon. Right, JD?” “If you say so. Detective Dunne and Jackson are each taking two prisoners. Bosnik is taking the other two. I’m riding with Abrue. You can ride with the prisoners, Hubbard, or me. Your choice.” Amy considered her options. “I’ll ride with you.” “I’ve got a shotgun, so you get to ride in the back. Saddle up and let’s get going.” Amy rolled her eyes and followed Pickens to Abrue’s vehicle. The ME arranged for a coroner’s van. Then the prisoners were put in the respective vehicles, and Pickens and his deputies left the cemetery, Pickens to the sheriff’s office, the others to the county jail.

CHAPTER 27

THAT NIGHT, PICKENS worked at the barbeque restaurant and hung around until Liana had closed, then walked her to her car and watched as she went home. Saturday morning, Pickens was out on his boat and let his fishing line remain in the water. He wasn’t there to catch fish; he was there to clear his mind of the massacre that had taken place the day before. He knew he had to put everything in a report, as did Burgess. But what would be in those reports? The temperature on the water was cool, and Pickens had on a windbreaker and his favorite Tilley fishing hat. He looked out across the blue water and up at the clear blue sky. He saw a flock of birds flying in a perfect V formation, unlike the men who had come across the cemetery trampling on hallowed ground. He’d wished the outcome had been different but understood what Burgess had done. The solitude on the river and on his boat eventually helped Pickens come to grips with what had happened. He was also trying to ease the agony of his father lying in the hospital, unable to recognize his son, and that of his best friend, Leroy Jones, recovering from a gunshot wound that could have taken his life. Finally at peace with all that had happened, Pickens reeled in his line, started the motor, headed for shore, then docked the boat and went home. He used the remainder of the day to enjoy his family and his dog; then he had to work at the restaurant that night and would do the same as he had Friday night. Sunday after breakfast, Pickens, Marge, and Sarah went to the hospital to visit his father. Overnight, the temperature had plunged into the mid-forties, and now it was in the mid-fifties, so they wore light jackets. They were met in the hallway by Dr. Smathers. “Good morning, Pickens family,” she said. “How are you all?” “Good morning, Elaine,” said Marge. “How is the patient today?” Dr. Smathers grinned. “Which one? I have two you folks are interested in.” “How’s Leroy doing?” asked Pickens. He chose Leroy before his father because he knew, unlike his father, Leroy would recognize him.

“Leroy is...” Dr. Smathers stopped because she thought Sarah was there, but when she looked, Sarah had wandered down the hall to her grandfather’s room. “Leroy is like you, JD. A pain in the butt.” Pickens and Marge grinned. “He wanted to go home Friday and yesterday. He said he could run up and down the hallways without breaking a sweat. I felt like tying him in the bed to keep him in it.” “Can he do it, Elaine?” asked Pickens. “Seriously, JD? He’s lucky his wound wasn’t worse than it is.” Dr. Smathers lifted her eyebrows. “How is your other patient?” asked Marge. “I think I’ll let JD’s mother answer that. I want to chat, but I have other patients to see. Nice talking to you, Pickens family.” She walked down the hallway and pointed to Pickens’s father’s room. “I wonder what she means,” said Pickens. “Let’s go find out. But don’t expect miracles, JD.” Marge grabbed his hand, and they walked toward his father’s room. When they stepped into the room, Sarah was with his mother at the bedside of Pickens’s father. She was feverishly chatting away about their cruise vacation. When Pickens’s mother saw him and Marge, she smiled, stood, and said, “Sarah, honey, you keep talking to Grandpa. I’ll be right back.” She approached Pickens and Marge. “Good morning, son.” Pickens put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead. “Good morning, Mom. How’s he doing?” Jeanette smiled. “Much better. Your dad recognized me. Dr. Smathers said it was a good sign his memory was returning.” She glanced at the bed. “I think he recognizes Sarah, or maybe it’s just because she hasn’t stopped talking since she came into the room. Whatever...it doesn’t make a difference.” “Think he’ll me?” asked Pickens. Marge put her arm around his as in case he needed it.

“I’m not sure, but Dr. Smathers said we should be patient, and soon he’ll get more memory back. Then he’ll recognize you and Marge.” Pickens reached into his jacket pocket. “I brought something to help him.” He pulled out a five-by-six-inch framed picture of him and his parents his dad kept on his workbench in the garage. Marge didn’t know JD had stopped at his parents’ house to get it. He gave it to his mother. Jeanette brushed her hand over the picture and said, “This was taken after you moved back here from Tallahassee.” And before I met you, said Marge to herself. “I’ll put it on his tray table. Say hello regardless of whether or not he recognizes you, JD. Just you being here helps.” Marge grabbed her husband’s hand, and they approached the bed. “Sarah, honey, why don’t you let Grand...I mean Russell, rest?” Sarah stopped talking and stepped away from the bedside. “Hi, Mom and Dad.” Pickens and Marge gave a slight wave to her. “Russell,” said Jeanette, “you have visitors. I want you to meet JD and Marge. JD is the sheriff, and Marge is his wife and the county medical examiner.” Russell focused his eyes on Marge and said, “The medical examiner? Are you going to examine me? I already have a doctor.” “No sir, I’m not. I’m here to visit you.” Russell turned his gaze to Pickens. “I think I know you. Have we met before?” Pickens tensed, and Marge squeezed his hand. “We may have. I think it was at a Christmas celebration.” Pickens didn’t want to say dinner as he didn’t want to confuse his father. Russell kept his focus on Pickens and said, “Maybe. My memory’s not like it used to be. I have trouble ing things.” Russell was suddenly agitated. “Jeanette, I’d like to rest. Do you mind?” Jeanette smiled. “No, you go ahead. I’ll entertain your visitors.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, then rubbed his cheek. Russell closed his eyes, and Jeanette nodded toward the doorway. Pickens, Marge, and Sarah stepped away. She put her hand on Pickens’s cheek. “Try to be patient, JD. ,

he thought he’d met you. That’s a good sign.” Pickens covered her hand with his. “It is, and I’m trying. But you know patience isn’t my strong suit.” Jeanette grinned. “Don’t I know it. You’re just like your father. It isn’t his either.” Pickens and Marge smiled. “Later, when he’s awake, I’ll show him the picture and see what happens. Now you three go home and do what you do as a family. We’ll be okay here.” “You sure?” said Pickens. “Can we get you anything from home?” Jeanette looked at Marge. “Yes. Marge, could you bring another change of clothes and a new toothbrush?” Marge winked. “Certainly. I’ll go by your house and bring them to you.” “Thank you. Now skedaddle, all of you.” Pickens and family left the room and then the hospital and went home. Marge drove to Pickens’s parents’ house and got Jeanette a change of clothes and several pairs of clean underwear and bras. She brought them to the hospital and exchanged them for dirty ones. “Thank you, Marge. I appreciate it, and I appreciate you being patient with JD.” “I’m just being his wife. You’re the one being patient with everything you have to deal with.” “It’s not easy, but I’m doing the best I can. Will you sit and talk with me awhile?” Marge put her hand on Jeanette’s arm and replied, “Absolutely. JD and Sarah can fend for themselves.” Jeanette smiled, and they sat at the small table in the rear of the room.

CHAPTER 28

WHEN PICKENS STROLLED into the sheriff’s office Monday morning, he spotted Amy and Billy at their desks with newspapers in front of them like an old married couple at breakfast with nary a word spoken except “More coffee?” and “Uh-huh.” Pickens could see the front-page headline.

ATTEMPTED MURDER OF LOCAL ICON

Pickens put his finger on the top of the page, pulled it down, and said, “Is that Nosey’s article, Amy?” “Uh-huh. Nosey came through as we hoped. Some front page, huh?” “What does the article say?” “It doesn’t mention Leroy’s name, but it says he is in the hospital in critical condition. That, along with the headline, should generate something. Oh, and Nosey has another article. You got it, Billy?” “Uh-huh.” Pickens rolled his eyes. Billy turned the pages then stopped and said, “The gist of it says an unnamed source revealed that federal and local law enforcement thwarted an attempted attack on a federal agent and his mother as they tried to retrieve the ashes of his recently murdered father. The source said this is what happens when Federal and local law enforcement cooperate. “That sounds like something you would say, JD,” said Amy. Pickens grinned. “Or something Burgess would say. Not to change the subject, but where are we on the DaMothe case?” “I haven’t talked to Detective Dunne yet,” replied Amy. “Anything you want me to tell her?”

Pickens rubbed the back of his neck and replied, “Yeah. I have a suspicion whoever was riding the motorcycle was the kid who attempted to mug...what’s her name? Judo lady?” Amy rolled her eyes. “It’s Karate girl, JD.” “Whatever. Call Dunne and have her get the girl in and sweat her. We may be able to solve another case.” “Sweat her? JD, she’s just a kid.” “Just a kid? That’s what you said the Brantley brothers were, and look at what they did to me. Have you forgotten, or are you suddenly a bleeding-heart liberal? That kid, as you call her, could have killed Mr. Svenson.” “I’m not, but—” “No buts.” Pickens got in her face and said, “Do your job, Detective, or I’ll do it for you. Call Dunne...now!” Amy stepped back. “Yes sir, Sheriff.” She didn’t like his harshness, so she spoke harshly too. Pickens glared at her, turned, went to his office, and slammed the door. “What’s bugging him?” said Billy. “How the heck do I know? I’d better call Detective Dunne before he has a shit fit.” Unbeknownst to Amy, Pickens called Nudley and told her what he wanted Amy and Dunne to do with DaMothe and that she should be there. “Are you sure, JD? She’s only a kid.” “Don’t give me that kid crap, Marilyn. You did that with the Brantley brothers. It’s not going to happen this time. Lucky for her, you’re not trying her for murder. Trust me, that so-called kid is going to serve for a very long time, and I’m not talking about supervised community service.”

“Whatever you say, Sheriff.” Nudley knew not to argue with Pickens when he was on a tirade. “That’s right,” said Pickens. “I’m the sheriff and...” He was talking to a dead phone as Nudley had hung up. He sat back in his chair, took deep breaths, then put two fingers to his neck and felt his rapid pulse. He continued taking deep breaths to slow his pulse and lower his blood pressure. He called Dr. Phyllis Wainwright to see if she could fit him in. He needed to talk to someone who could look at things objectively. Wainwright said she could squeeze him at noon, which meant she was giving up her lunch hour. Pickens checked his watch. He had a little over an hour before his appointment. Since Wainwright’s office was within a half-hour’s walking distance, Pickens grabbed his sheriff’s cap and emerged from his office. As he walked toward the entrance, Amy said, “Sheriff, I called...” Pickens ignored her and walked past her, then out the door. Amy scrunched her eyebrows, turned, and looked at Billy. He just shrugged. Outside the sheriff’s office, the temperature was in the sixties, and the sun felt warm. Pickens took off his cap, hung it over his weapon to conceal it, and strolled into town, glancing in all the storefronts. When he came to Lydia’s Bakery, the aroma of fresh-baked goods tantalized him, so he went inside and ordered one of the day’s specials—a blueberry scone—then went back outside and continued his walk. A woman pushing a stroller with a child in it stopped to say hello. Pickens leaned down and made funny faces, making the child laugh, then continued walking. He hadn’t done something like that since he was on the campaign trail the first time he’d run for election to the sheriff’s office. Pickens arrived at Wainwright’s office fifteen minutes early and was fortunate she could see him. They discussed his latest outbursts and frustration over his father being in the hospital and finally out of his coma but unable to recognize him, as well as, his best friend, Leroy Jones, having been near- fatally shot. Wainwright concluded Pickens was experiencing a form of survivor’s guilt, and with continued counseling, he would be able to manage it. They agreed to go back to weekly visits at nine in the morning on Wednesdays. Wainwright suggested he find an outlet for his emotions and recommended he a gym. She belonged to one two blocks from her office and was there four days a week after office hours.

When his hour was over, Pickens returned to his stroll through town. He decided to take Wainwright’s recommendation, visited the gym, and purchased a monthly hip. While waiting for his access key to be attached to his key ring, he heard a female voice behind him say, “Sheriff Pickens, what brings you here?” Pickens turned and saw Connie Dupree, the county commission chairwoman, dressed in a tight-fitting gym outfit with bared shoulders that revealed all her creases and curves...the same ones he had seen without a gym outfit many years before he was married. “I...uh...just ed,” Pickens stammered. “And you’re blushing,” said Dupree with a huge grin. “My husband and I are and workout during our lunch hours. Maybe we’ll see you some time.” She leaned in and whispered, “You may want to put your eyes back in their sockets, JD.” Then she winked, turned, and slowly glided away, leaving Pickens dumbfounded. Pickens turned around and took his key ring from the smiling manager and said, “Uh...twenty-four seven access. Right.” Then he scrambled for the entrance. Once outside, he drew a deep breath and said to himself, Thank God I’m married to Marge. He continued his stroll through town and decided instead of going back to the sheriff’s office, he’d visit Leroy at the hospital and look in on his father. If anyone asked of his whereabouts that afternoon, he’d say he’d had a personal matter to tend to and he’d visited the two victims in the hospital. If necessary, he’d add he had a meeting with the chairwoman of the county commission. While Pickens was taking his walkabout around town, Amy had called Dunne and told her about Pickens’s order. Dunne responded with, “We could, but I did some investigation on my own and visited the Burger Palace. The manager was helpful. They have a sophisticated security system with surveillance cameras on all four corners of the building. He ed the day DaMothe said she was there with other kids during the lunch hour.” Amy interrupted her. “Did he let you look at the security tapes?” Amy glanced at

Billy to see if he was listening. Billy appeared to be busy on his computer. “He did more than let me look at the tapes. As I said, it’s a sophisticated system, and he was able to print pictures for me. One shows two people on a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. Another shows them with helmets in one hand and holding hands. The girl is definitely DaMothe. She didn’t lie about meeting up with other kids. Both of them did, but Lydia didn’t leave in a car. The two left on a motorcycle. That’s the third picture.” “Did you get a license plate number?” When Billy heard license plate number, he pulled up the DMV website and entered Search, then waved at Amy to get her attention. “Yes. I’ll recite it to you, and you can have Billy check it out.” “He’s already waiting to do it. Let’s have it.” Dunne recited the tag number, and Amy repeated it to Billy. Less than two minutes later, Billy threw up his hands and shouted, “Got it! The tag belongs to Jeremy Arnott. It’s a motorbike, not a motorcycle. Got an address too.” “Did you hear that, Detective? The owner is Jeremy Arnott.” “I heard it. Billy sure gets excited. Text me the info. I’ll see if there’s a listing for an Arnott in the phone book. I’ll also call my at the school to get a parent’s name and if both teenagers are in school. Then I’ll call Nudley and...Hold on Detective, Nudley is calling me.” Dunne put Amy on hold and answered Nudley’s call. After speaking with Nudley, Dunne returned to her conversation with Amy. “Nudley got a mouthful from the sheriff. I explained about the surveillance feed, and she said we don’t need a warrant for the girl since she’s already signed a confession, but we still need her mother. As to the boy, she suggested we skip a warrant for now and bring him in for questioning as a person of interest for helping Lydia and for the alleged assault on Park Avenue. We’ll need one of his parents.” “That should appease the sheriff. How do you want to handle it?” “We’ll each take our patrol cars, and I’ll have Corporal Jackson take his. He intimidates the girl. We’ll meet at the school and catch them when they exit. I’ll call you back when I know if they’re in school. Then I’ll alert Nudley, and she

can meet us here.” “Sounds like a plan, Detective.” While Amy waited for Dunne’s call, she briefed Billy on the situation in case Pickens returned, so that he could brief him. Dunne called back and said both teenagers were in school. She got Arnott’s parents’ names, and gave them to Nudley. “I’ll meet you at the school,” said Amy.

CHAPTER 29

THE COUNTY HIGH school sat on fifty-three acres, surrounded on three sides by woods. The school bordered a divided four-lane highway stretching from city to city. The entryway was marked by a large sign that included the school’s name and the name of the school mascot. Amy, Dunne, and Jackson pulled into the parking lot and up to the curb at the school’s front entrance, then parked their patrol cars shortly before the school day ended. They leaned against the sides of their vehicles so when Lydia and Jeremy came out through the entry door, they were sure to see them. When the bell rang, the doors flew open, and students started pouring out. Lydia and Jeremy walked out, smiling, holding hands, with helmets in their other hands. Seeing the boy in person was an eye-opener. He was small in stature and shorter than the girl. He could easily have been mistaken for her younger brother. Lydia was the first to spot the deputies. Jackson was waving a finger at her, beckoning her to them. The girl stomped her foot and said, “Shit.” Several students stared at her. The boy froze and swiveled his head right, then left, wondering which way he should bolt. Jackson wagged his index finger left and right, and the boy decided to stay put. The two teenagers approached the deputies, and Dunne said, “What, no homework today? You lied to me, Lydia.” “I can explain,” said the girl. “Oh, you will, but at the sheriff’s office. I read you your rights last time, but I’m reading them again. Hands behind your back.” Dunne cuffed the girl and read her her rights. “What did I do?” asked Jeremy. “You’re a suspect in the aiding and abetting her escape from a crime scene,” said Amy. “I’m not going to arrest you and cuff you, yet, but I am going to read you

your rights.” Amy read the boy his rights. Then she and Dunne escorted the two to their patrol cars. “Smile for the cameras,” said Dunne. Then she and Amy opened the rear doors of their patrol cars, and the teenagers got in the back seat, the girl with Dunne and the boy with Amy. Jackson followed them to the Warfield sheriff’s office. When they all entered, they ed Nudley in the makeshift conference room with the teenagers’ parents. Deputy Bosnik was also there. “What the hell are you doing with my boy?” shouted Mr. Arnott. “Sit down, Mr. Arnott, and I’ll explain,” said Nudley. “Don’t tell me to sit down, bitch.” Arnott raised his hand, but Jackson grabbed it. Arnott looked Jackson up and down and decided he’d better obey as Jackson towered over him. “What the hell is going on, Detective Dunne?” asked Ms. DaMothe. “Why is Lydia in handcuffs?” “Follow me, Ms. DaMothe,” said Dunne. “I’ll explain later.” Dunne escorted the girl and her mother to her office. “Wait here. I’ll be right back. Deputy Bosnik, keep them company.” Dunne closed the door and ed Amy. “Okay,” said Mr. Arnott, “what the hell did the little bastard do now?” “Screw you,” said the boy. Arnott stood, raised his hand, and shouted, “You little son of a bitch I’ll—” Jackson grabbed the man’s arm. “Go ahead. Hit me like you always do,” said Jeremy. “If I get sent to juvie, it will be better than spending another day with you.” “You’re no better than that bitch of a mother you have. You goddamn bastard, wait until I get home. I’ll teach her to baby you.” “You gonna beat her too, like you always do when you don’t get your way?”

“That’s enough!” shouted Nudley. “One more word, Mr. Arnott, and I’ll have Corporal Jackson gag and cuff you.” Nudley pointed an index finger at the man. “Do you hear me?” Arnott gave her the finger. “Try it, bitch, and I’ll make sure you regret it.” “Did you just threaten an officer of the court, Mr. Arnott?” The man spat at Nudley. “That’s it. Corporal Jackson, cuff him.” Jackson lifted the man and cuffed him. “You are under arrest, Mr. Arnott, for threatening an officer of the court. You have the right...” Nudley proceeded to read Arnott his rights. “Corporal Jackson, take him to the county jail. Maybe a night or two there will bring you to your senses, Mr. Arnott.” “Fuck you, bitch. You’ll get yours.” “Goodbye, Mr. Arnott,” said Nudley. Jackson escorted Arnott out of the sheriff’s office. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Jeremy.” The boy’s expression was distant. “That’s okay. It’s not like he’s my birth father. I call him Dad because he makes me and my mom wants me to.” He wiped tears with the back of his hand. “Would you like to call your mom, Jeremy?” asked Nudley. The boy sniffled and said, “Can I? I need to talk to her.” The boy had beads of sweat on his forehead. “Yes. Do you have a cell phone? If not, you can use the phone in Detective Dunne’s office. Ask your mom to come here.” “She can’t. She doesn’t have a car and is not allowed to drive. That’s why I got the motorbike. He doesn’t know I have it, and I hide it in a neighbor’s yard. I help my mom when she needs something.” The boy looked forlorn. “I bought it with the money I saved from doing errands for the neighbor ladies and chores for their husbands. The neighbors kept my secret. They don’t like my dad, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” “Call your mom, Jeremy,” said Nudley. “If she wants to come here, Detective Dunne will send a deputy to get her. Call her from Detective Dunne’s office. I’ll talk to you after I finish with Lydia.”

“She won’t come. She’s afraid to leave the house.” “Call her anyway.” The boy stood, and Dunne escorted him to her office. She held him back to keep him and the girl from making eye ; then she opened the door. “Ms. DaMothe, you and Lydia come with me.” “Is Jeremy okay? We heard yelling,” said Lydia. “He’s fine. Worry about yourself. Let’s go.” Lydia and her mother came out of the office, and Dunne let the boy enter. “Deputy Bosnik, keep him company. He’s going to call his mom. I may need you to run an errand.” Bosnik nodded. Dunne didn’t want to alert the girl and her mother that they might bring the boy’s mother to the sheriff’s office. Dunne led Lydia and her mother to the makeshift office and had them sit across from Nudley. “Why are we here?” asked Ms. DaMothe. “Does it have to do with that boy?” “No, it’s about Lydia,” said Nudley. “Lydia, you lied to us about running to the Burger Palace.” “She what?” said Ms. DaMothe. “What’s she talking about, Lydia?” “I’ll explain,” said Nudley and laid out the pictures on the table that she had in a folder. “This picture is of you and Jeremy nice and cozy on his motorbike the same day you attacked that man.” “That could be anyone,” said Ms. DaMothe. “And this one is of you holding Jeremy’s hand with a helmet in your other. You told us you left in a car with some other teenagers, but this one shows you and Jeremy leaving on his motorbike. You’ll notice they’re all dated and timestamped.” “I can explain,” said Lydia. “I’m sure you can make something up, Lydia, but it won’t change the fact that

you lied. And because you did, you’re going to juvie at least until I can find a judge to appoint a public defender. Then we’ll see what the judge decides.” Nudley held up her hand. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. Ms. DaMothe, say goodbye to your daughter. Detective Dunne, she’s all yours.” “Amy, would you get Deputy Bosnik for me.” Amy went to Dunne’s office and came back with Bosnik. “Deputy Bosnik, please escort Lydia DaMothe to juvie and book her in. Stand up, Lydia.” The girl stood, and Bosnik escorted her out of the sheriff’s office. “What happens now?” asked Ms. DaMothe. “You can make arrangements to visit your daughter. Now I have to deal with another situation. Goodbye, Ms. DaMothe.” The woman stood and stomped out of the sheriff’s office. “What happens to the boy?” asked Amy. “I haven’t decided yet. I need to talk to his mother...that’s if he can convince her to come here. One of you should call Pickens and bring him up to date. I’m going to keep the boy company.” “We’ll both call him,” said Amy. Nudley left, and Amy dialed Pickens. “Not now, Amy,” said Pickens. “I’m busy.” Pickens was visiting Leroy in his hospital room. Before Pickens could hang up, Amy said, “I’ve got you on speaker. Detective Dunne is with me.” She then launched into a spiel about the events that had taken place, including the boy’s father being arrested and the girl being taken to juvie. “It sounds like someone has to get the kid and his mother out of that house. I have someone who could help, but it will have to be tomorrow at the earliest.” “That’s if she agrees to leave the house, JD. She has to leave voluntarily. We can’t force her.” “Yeah, there’s that. I guess Nudley has the situation under control. Good work,

detectives.” “What?” said Amy. “He hung up on us.” “At least he didn’t yell at us. And he paid us a compliment.” “Yeah. That deserves a high five.” “Sounds like you got a domestic abuse issue, JD,” said Leroy. “Anything I can do to help?” Pickens rubbed his chin. “Yeah. It involves a mother and her sixteen-year-old son. The father is in jail as of today, and I can’t let them stay in their house and have to...You know what happens.” “I’ll make a call and see what I can do. On such short notice, it might not be until tomorrow that someone can help. A sixteen-year-old boy is unusual, but I’ll try. Should I call Amy or you when I have an answer?” “Call me. I don’t want anyone else besides me to know what you do. Even I wish I didn’t know.” “I hear ya,” said Leroy. “I’m gonna go visit my dad. If you need me, you know where I’ll be, and you have my number.” “Hang on, JD. I forgot to tell you about the changes Liana made. Starting today, the restaurant stops serving at five thirty except Saturday and Sunday. From five until six thirty, customers can get curbside service if they call ahead. Just until I’m back on my feet.” Leroy raised an index finger and added, “And, she’s added lights on all four corners of the building, and we’ll be getting a surveillance system by Wednesday. It’ll be high tech. All Liana’s idea. How’s that?” Pickens’s head snapped back. “Wow. You should let Liana run the restaurant for good.” “Yeah, right.” Leroy waved as Pickens left the room.

CHAPTER 30

AFTER PICKENS LEFT Leroy, he strolled down the hall and was almost to his father’s room when his phone chirped. “Marilyn, I heard you had quite an eventful day.” “And it’s about to get more eventful. I’m with the boy. He tried to convince his mother to leave the house, but she refused. He even begged her.” Nudley exhaled. “We’re going to his home and try again. Hopefully, she will. Then I have to find a safe place for her and her son.” “You’re in luck, Marilyn. I’m working on doing the same thing. It’s not going to be easy, especially with the boy being sixteen, but I have someone working diligently on it. Hopefully, I’ll know tomorrow morning. Maybe we’ll both get lucky.” “JD, get serious.” “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. You know what I mean.” “Call me, JD.” Nudley had hung up, and Pickens then stuck his head in his father’s room and said softly, “Hey, Mom.” His mother turned her head when she heard him and smiled. She set her knitting aside and went to greet him. “Morning, JD. I’m glad you’re here.” Pickens glanced at his father, who was watching television, then kissed his mother. “How’s he doing?” She gently squeezed his arm. “Making progress. Come see.” Pickens followed her then stopped at the foot of the bed. “Russell, dear, the boy I was telling you about? The one in the picture? He’s here.”

Pickens’s father muted the television, then glanced at him. Then he glanced at the framed picture on the tray table, then back at Pickens and said, “You look much younger in the picture.” “Yes sir, I was.” Pickens’s heart fluttered as the words made him feel as though his father had made a correlation between him and the younger version of Pickens. “You hiding something under that hat?” “Russell, dear, he’s the sheriff. Of course, he is.” “Hmm,” said Russell. “You go to college?” “Yes sir. Florida State.” “I’m not familiar with that school. You play football?” Pickens grinned. “Yes sir, both high school and college.” “You sure do a lot of yes-sir-ing.” Pickens smiled. “You married? Got any kids?” “Uh, yes to both. Got a daughter named Sarah.” “Sarah? Jeanette, isn’t that the name of the girl who read the Bible to me?” “Yes, dear.” Pickens ed the day he and Marge had left Sarah with his parents so Sarah could read his father the Bible. He also ed how he’d felt seeing her at her grandfather’s bedside on Sunday morning. “What’s your name, boy?” “It’s JD.” “JD? What kinda name is that?” “It’s my nickname.” Pickens’s mother smiled and put her hand over her heart. She was enjoying the

banter between her husband and his son. “What’s your full name? Not your nickname.” Pickens hesitated. He didn’t like to mention his full name. “Joshua Daniel.” “Joshua Daniel? If I had a name like that, I’d use a nickname too. You play cards?” “Some.” “Some? That’s no answer.” Russell glanced at the picture. “Got time to stay for dinner?” Pickens reached for his phone. “Never mind. You’re busy. Maybe another time.” “No. I was going to call my wife and tell her I won’t be home for dinner.” “Don’t do that. Family is important, and you should be with your family for dinner. There’s always a next time.” Pickens felt overjoyed his father had said, There’s always a next time. “Now, you go on home. You hear me? Jeanette, send this boy home to his family.” Russell unmuted the television and went back to watching it. Pickens’s mother took him by the arm and led him away from the bed. “Did I make him angry, Mom?” “No, son, you didn’t. That’s the progress I wanted you to see. Next time you visit, I’m sure he’ll your nickname.” “You think so?” “Yes. Now, go home and do as your father said and be with your family.” “I love you, Mom.” Pickens wrapped her in his arms and gently kissed her. “I love you too. Now, get.” Pickens smiled and left the room. He was strolling toward the elevator when he bumped into Dr. Smathers. “Whoa, there, cowboy,” said Dr. Smathers. “Slow down, JD, and watch where

you’re going.” “Sorry, Elaine. I’m so excited, I could kiss you.” Without warning, Pickens hugged her and kissed her softly on the lips. Dr. Smathers stepped back. “Whew. That was some kiss. You’d better stop before we get in trouble.” Pickens’s face turned red. “Sorry. I’m excited that my dad and I had a conversation, and my mom said next time I visit, she’s sure he’ll my nickname.” “I’m sure he will too. He’s making progress, JD.” “That’s what Mom said. I have to go home and tell Marge. See ya, Elaine.” “See ya, JD. Maybe next time we can kiss again.” Pickens heard her chuckle as she walked away.

* * *

When Pickens got home, he rushed into the house and shouted, “Marge, guess what?” When he didn’t get an answer, he became concerned. Then he saw the note on the counter and read it. Took Sarah to her friend’s birthday party. Be home around seven. Love, Marge. Bailey sauntered up to him and brushed against his leg. “At least you’re here to hear my great news, Bailey.” The dog sat and barked. “Good dog. Dad and I had an actual conversation today.” Pickens didn’t bother to elaborate as he was talking to a dog, but when he finished, the dog barked several times. “I knew you would appreciate it. Oh well, let’s go for a walk. Maybe a neighbor will be out and listen to me.” The dog wheeled about as if chasing its tail. Pickens leashed him, and they went for a walk. As he and the dog walked around the neighborhood, Pickens met several neighbors. They asked about his father, and Pickens mentioned the conversation

but didn’t elaborate as he wanted the special moment to be shared only with Marge and Sarah. When he and Bailey returned home, Pickens decided to make himself dinner and feed Bailey. Marge hadn’t prepared something for him, so he decided to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. There was some leftover apple pie, so he ate that in the living room while watching television. Pickens didn’t hear Marge’s car when it pulled into the garage and was surprised when she entered the house and shouted, “We’re home!” Then Marge yelled, “Pickens, did you have a PB&J sandwich and a beer with it!” “Yeah, I did!” yelled Pickens. “But I could use another!” “Get in here, Pickens! Now!” He got up off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Sarah ed him and said, “You’re in big trouble, young man.” Pickens rolled his eyes, then entered the kitchen. Marge stood by the kitchen counter with her hands on her hips and scowling. It reminded him of high school when his mother had walked in on him and Leroy watching television and eating sandwiches...but with a soft drink, not a beer. “Well,” said Marge, “what’s this mess?” Pickens looked at the open loaf of bread, the jar of peanut butter, the jar of jelly, and the beer bottle cap on the counter. “I was hungry, and you weren’t home.” Marge shook her head. “I was at the hospital and had a conversation with my dad. Actually, he asked questions, and I answered them.” Marge gasped. “And I was so excited, I kissed Elaine.” “You what?” “I, uh...” Pickens grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and smothered her mouth with a kiss. “So, what do you think?” Marge exhaled and said, “Whew. You mean the kiss? Which one?” “No, my conversation with my dad.” “You really did have a conversation with your dad?”

“Yes. And when I mentioned you and Sarah, he ed she was the girl who sat by his side and read the Bible. Oh, and I ed a gym.” Marge was gobsmacked. “You ed a gym? Seriously?” “Yes. It was Phyllis Wainwright’s suggestion, and I have a standing appointment with her every Wednesday morning at nine.” “So, it was Phyllis Wainwright’s suggestion, huh? Did you kiss her too?” “No. Come on, Marge, you know you’re the only one I love.” “But not the only one you kiss, though.” “Hey. I apologized. Give me a break...Wait...Now you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” Marge smiled. “It’s hard not to. You’re like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and is struggling to apologize.” “Now you’re mocking me. I demand an apology.” Marge’s smile widened. “You’ll have to kiss me if you want one.” Pickens grabbed her, wrapped her in his arms, and smothered her mouth with a lingering kiss. “Hey! There are children out here!” yelled Sarah. Pickens and Marge burst out laughing.

CHAPTER 31

PICKENS WAS ABOUT to back down the driveway Tuesday morning when his phone chirped. “Pickens, can you hear me?” said Leroy. “Yeah. What’s up?” “You’re in luck. I got a safe place for the woman and her kid. It’s one of the outbuildings on the campus of my church. Let me know if you need it. And, Pickens, only you can bring them. No one else. You hear me?” “I hear you. Thanks, Leroy. I’ll call you back after I call Nudley. And...Dammit, he hung up on me.” Pickens then called Nudley. When Nudley answered, he heard her say to someone, “No, the bottom cabinet. Yes, that’s the one.” Then she said, “Sorry, JD, it’s a little hectic here with three people and a dog. What’s up?” Pickens wondered if Nudley’s guests were women or men she sometimes went out drinking with. He had hoped it might be Mrs. Arnott and her son. “Who are your guests, Marilyn? Tell me you weren’t out drinking last night.” “Are you serious? On a Monday night? What kinda girl do you think I am?” Pickens didn’t want to answer as he knew he’d say the wrong thing. “No, it’s the kid and his mother. They spent the night here. Now I have to find a safer place for them. I’m taking the day off to make some calls.” “I’ve got you covered on that. I have a place, but only I can take them there. It’s for everyone’s safety.” “That’s not going to work, JD. I promised the woman if I got her a safe place, I’d take them both to it. She trusts me, JD, and won’t leave without me. The only reason she left the house was because of her son. You would have been proud of him. Even I couldn’t help crying.”

“What did he say to convince her?” Pickens heard her sigh. “He told her if he went to juvie, he couldn’t promise when she would ever see him again. And if his father gets out of jail—and he will—his father would take it out on her and kill her or she’d kill him. Then neither of them would ever see the other.” Pickens let out a deep breath and said, “Wow. The kid’s amazing. I don’t think I could have said something like that if I were in his spot.” “I felt the same way. The woman was still reluctant. But when I promised I’d get her to a safe place, she agreed to leave. JD, I can’t go back on my word.” “Shit. I’m sorry, Marilyn, but that’s not how it works.” “I don’t care how it works. If you can’t help me, fine. I’ll handle it on my own.” Pickens was caught between doing what was right and what was necessary. “Let me call you back. Maybe I can work something out.” “Thanks, JD. If you can’t, I’ll understand.” Pickens then called Leroy. “You ready to do this, JD?” “No. I’ve got a problem. The woman won’t leave without Nudley being with me.” “You know that’s not how it works.” “Dammit, I don’t know how anything works anymore. I’m up to my ass with my dad’s situation. I sent a girl to juvie. I’ve got to find out who shot you, and now I’m involved in a domestic abuse case. You tell me how anything works.” Pickens heard silence then said, “Shit, Leroy, did you hang up on me again?” “No...I was thinking.” “I hope while you’re thinking, you’re deciding in the woman’s favor.” “Okay, here’s the deal. Will Nudley take an oath?” “An oath? I guess so. Is that it?”

“No. They have to wear blindfolds. It’s for everyone’s safety. If Nudley agrees to those , she can come with you. Call me back when you know if you’re coming so I can have someone there to meet you.” “Thanks, Leroy.” “Wait. Is anyone listening?” “Listening? I’m in my SUV and parked in my driveway. The only one listening is a damn fly that somehow got in. Does that answer your question?” “Yes. And, JD, we never had this conversation.” “Okay...shit. He hung up again.” Pickens then called Nudley. “What’s the verdict, JD?” “You can come on two conditions. Will you take an oath?” “An oath? JD, I’m an officer of the court. I’ve taken countless oaths. What’s the other condition?” “You all have to wear blindfolds. It’s not negotiable.” “No problem. When do we leave.? “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Be ready to go.” “Fifteen minutes? Are you serious? We have to finish breakfast and take showers. I can’t leave without first taking a shower.” “Marilyn, we’re not going on a date. I’ll be there in twenty, and don’t make me wait.” “Twenty...Dammit. That’s the second time he hung up on me.” Pickens called Leroy. “We’ll be there in an hour, and Nudley, the woman, and the kid will wear blindfolds. And she took an oath.” “Good luck, JD. It’s a good thing you’re doing.”

“Yeah...Dammit, he did it again.” Pickens drove to Nudley’s house, parked in the driveway, and honked the horn twice. When no one came out, he honked the horn twice more, and the door opened. The woman came out carrying a small suitcase with her son behind her. Nudley came out and locked the door. When all three were in Pickens’s SUV, the woman said, “Why is he here?” “He’s the sheriff, Mom. He’s helping us.” The woman settled in her seat, then Pickens said, “Here, put these on, and I need your phones. We’re not going anywhere unless you do.” “Wait...Why?” said the woman. “It’s for everyone’s protection,” said Nudley. “Please do it.” Nudley put her blindfold on, put her phone in the bag Pickens gave her, then gave the bag to the woman, and both she and her son put their phones in it. They put their blindfolds on and returned the bag to Nudley, who set it on the console. Pickens backed out of Nudley’s driveway and drove to Leroy’s church. Along the way, Nudley tried to use her sense of smell to discern where they were, but it was a waste of time as Pickens had the windows up and the air conditioner on. She tried her hearing, but it too was useless as Pickens had tuned the radio to a country music station. She finally gave up, sat back, and enjoyed the ride. Pickens turned off the highway and onto the dirt road that went past Leroy’s church and onto its campus. He pulled up to the outbuilding where a black woman with gray hair wearing a print skirt and sneakers waited. Pickens parked and said, “Okay, folks, we’re here. You can remove your blindfolds.” Nudley removed hers and said, “Is this—?” “Yes,” replied Pickens and glared at her. “It’s the safe house. Everyone out. You too, Marilyn, and no more questions.” Nudley got out and ed the woman and the boy.

“Good morning,” said the woman waiting for them. “My name is Grace.” “Good morning,” said Nudley. “I’m Ms.—” Grace held up her hand. “No last names. We use only first names. It’s for everyone’s protection.” Nudley extended her hand. “I’m Marilyn. And this is...” “Penny,” said the mother. “And this is my son Jeremy.” The boy nodded. “The thing is, I’m not sure I can do this.” “You’re anxious and worried,” said Grace in a gentle voice. “I understand. I was the same when I walked away. I thought it was my fault what happened to me, but I learned just in time it wasn’t. That was over twenty years ago. But to this day, I’m sure had I not, I probably would be dead, or he would. Now I’m safe and helping other women and their families. You’ll feel the same too in time.” “See, Mom. If Grace could do it, you can.” “Yes,” said the mother. “We both can. Thank you, Grace. I’m ready now.” Pickens and Nudley turned their backs so they could wipe tears. Nudley glanced around at the expanse of the location and thought it looked vaguely familiar. She saw two other outbuildings. One had a car parked next to it. The other a covered patio. Beyond that, she couldn’t see anything. Pickens nudged her, and they turned around. Grace unlocked the door and entered, and the others followed. “Wow!” said Jeremy. “This is huge.” “Yes,” said Penny. “It’s so open and comfy looking.” “You have your own bedroom with a bath, Penny,” said Grace. “And you have your own bedroom too, Jeremy. But you have to share a bathroom with the other bedroom. And you both have closets with clothes in them.” “I have my own room with a closet?” asked Jeremy. “Yes,” said Grace. “And there are new clothes in them for you both. If they need altering, let me know, and I’ll alter them or get you new ones.”

“Hear that, Mom? We get new clothes. I can’t when I last got new clothes that I didn’t have to buy for myself.” His mother grinned, but Pickens noticed a tear on her cheek. “The refrigerator and the freezer are fully stocked,” said Grace. “I hope you’re not vegans because there’s lots of meat. You also have a dishwasher, a washing machine, and a clothes dryer. If you need anything else, let me know, and I’ll get it for you.” “I don’t know what to say,” said Penny. “I’ve never had a dishwasher or a clothes dryer. I hung the clothes on a line out back. Thank you, Grace.” Grace smiled and nodded. “If you all don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower and freshen up.” “Go ahead,” said Nudley. “Grace and I will have some coffee. Hopefully, there’s a coffee maker.” “Yes,” said Grace, “and a television too.” “Jeremy,” said Pickens, “I see a ball and two gloves over there by the door. Want to go outside and play catch?” The boy’s eyes lit up. “Can we? I mean, Dad never played catch with me.” The boy sighed. “He never did anything with me except yell and hit me.” Pickens rustled the boy’s head. “I’m not going to do anything like that, except maybe make you miss the ball. Let’s go.” The boy smiled; then he and Pickens picked up the gloves and ball and went outside. His mother grinned and went to her bedroom. Grace started a fresh pot of coffee. Nudley sat at the kitchen island and said, “You enjoy what you do, don’t you, Grace?” Grace’s smile was intoxicating. “I do. Do you enjoy doing this too?” “I enjoyed this one, but it’s not what I normally do. I have a regular job.” “Are you and the sheriff...you know?” “No, no. He’s married. We’ve been friends since high school. I needed help, and

he stepped up. And, thank goodness he did.” “Whoops. Coffee’s ready.” Grace poured them each a cup, and they looked out the window, watching Pickens and Jeremy play catch. “He sure has a way with boys, doesn’t he?” “Yes he does. He’s a high school football coach.” “Ah,” said Grace. “No wonder.” Penny came from the bedroom and said, “How do I look?” “You look—” said Grace. “Fabulous,” said Nudley. “Is the dress too tight, too small?” asked Penny. “What about the color?” “No, it’s perfect,” answered Nudley. “The color matches your pretty blue eyes.” Penny blushed. “Maybe I should change into something else. I’ll have to make lunch and supper later. Or maybe I could use the phone and call for a delivery.” “No, don’t,” said Grace. “That phone is only for emergencies. If you pick up the receiver, someone will answer, and you’ll get whatever help you need. If I’m available, I’ll respond. Rest assured, no man will ever knock on your door. Only I or another woman will. I have a key, so I can always let myself in if necessary.” “What if I need to call my husband?” “Penny,” said Nudley, “that’s not going to happen. You’re starting a new life now without him. You have to think of yourself and Jeremy. That old life is over.” The woman sighed. “You’re right; it is. Thanks for reminding me.” Pickens and Jeremy entered the house just in time before things got too emotional. The boy shouted, “Mom, it was awesome!” His mother smiled. “Can you come again sometime and play catch with me, Sheriff?”

Pickens bit his lip and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jeremy, I’m not allowed. But your mother can play catch with you. Right, Penny?” “Yes. If he promises to be patient with me.” “Shucks. It’s not the same. You can keep the glove, Sheriff. Thanks anyway.” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Pickens, and Pickens put his arms around the boy. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.” The boy sniffled and walked away. “He’ll get over it, Sheriff,” said Penny. “He’s not used to a man showing affection toward him. He’s used to disappointment. Thank you, Sheriff. He’ll you.” “I’ll him too.” Pickens glanced at Nudley then at Grace. “Grace, we have to go now. Thank you for everything.” He reached out and hugged her.” “You’re welcome,” she said and winked. Pickens winked back. “Ready, Marilyn?” “Yes. Penny, I’m glad we got to spend some time together. Take care of that boy of yours.” “Thank you, Marilyn. I’ll never forget you.” The woman reached out and hugged Nudley. Then she hugged Pickens. “I’ll never forget you either, Sheriff.” Pickens smiled and nodded. “Grace, thank you for taking us under your wing. You helped change my life.” She then hugged Grace. “I’ll always be here for you, child, and your son. You can count on me.” Pickens nodded at Nudley, and they slipped out of the house, so Nudley could have a moment of privacy to shed tears. He let Nudley have her moment, then climbed into the SUV. Nudley entered and rubbed the heels of her palms over her damp cheeks. “You did good today, Counselor.” Nudley grinned. “We both did good today, Sheriff. Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.” “Have you ever done this before, JD?” “Nope. It’s my first and hopefully my last.” “My first too, and definitely my last. Both of them got to me. You were pretty calm in there, JD.” “Maybe on the outside, but inside, I was hurting. You sure the kid was sixteen? He didn’t look like he was, and his mother didn’t seem much older or taller than him. She could be mistaken for his older sister.” Pickens bit his lip. “The kid got to me...I wish I could do more for him.” “I feel the same about both. I hope wherever they end up, it’s far from the husband so he can’t ever hurt them again.” “I heard about what he said to you. I can’t provide round-the-clock protection, Marilyn, but I can make a call to someone who can.” Pickens held up his hand. “Don’t argue, Counselor. It’s for your protection and my peace of mind.” “If it will satisfy you, I won’t object.” She grinned. “Do I have to put the blindfold on? I’m pretty sure I could find this place again if I had to. But I swear I’ll go to my grave before I give up the location.” “Is that an oath you just made?” “It’s whatever you want it to be, JD. And I swear I never want to have to do this again.” “In that case, you can forget the blindfold, and don’t say never, Marilyn. You never know when something can come up.” She rolled her eyes. “Can I have my phone too?” “It’s in the bag, but I thought you might have done that sleight-of-hand trick you do and kept it.” “And have Penny and Jeremy catch me and not give up theirs? I couldn’t chance it.” She grabbed the bag, removed her phone, and put it in her purse. “I’m ready.

Let’s go.” Pickens started the engine, put the gear in drive, and pulled away from the house. When he pulled into Nudley’s driveway and parked, he said, “You gonna be okay, Marilyn?” Nudley opened the door and grabbed her purse. “Yeah. I’m going to take a shower then cuddle up with my dog. I might even call my parents. They moved to North Carolina to escape the heat, and I haven’t talked to them since Christmas. Thanks, JD.” She stepped out and closed the door. Pickens watched as she slowly walked to her door with her head down and waited until she unlocked it and went into her house. Pickens called Leroy and said, “Mission accomplished.” Instead of going to the sheriff’s office, he decided to go home, pack a bag, and go to the gym. He felt a sweaty workout would help work off the stress from the day’s events. After the gym, Pickens decided to take the rest of the day off and go home and relax. That night after he and Marge were in bed, Pickens briefly mentioned the morning he’d had but didn’t elaborate, except that it had had a profound effect on him. “You should mention it to Phyllis Wainwright,” said Marge, “when you see her in the morning.” Pickens sighed. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

CHAPTER 32

PICKENS ARRIVED EARLY for his Wednesday morning appointment with Phyllis Wainwright at nine. After pleasantries, Wainwright took a seat across from Pickens. He told her about the conversation with his father and how he was confident his father would regain full memory and recognize him. “I had to handle a domestic abuse case yesterday, and it really affected me...especially when the woman first agreed to leave her house, then changed her mind and changed it again, eventually leaving her home.” Pickens took a deep breath and continued. “The woman again considered going home, but had it not been for the words from her son and a special lady, she might have.” “It happens that way with victims of domestic abuse,” said Wainwright. “They blame themselves for their situation and think they can change their ab. But it rarely, if ever, happens. The lucky ones get away from it. Others don’t and end up in the hospital, dead, or in prison.” “How do you know so much about it?” “My mother was one of the lucky ones.” Wainwright checked her watch. “Our time is up, JD. I’ll see you at the same time next week.” “I’ll be here. And, Doc, I feel much better after talking to you.” Pickens felt like hugging her but checked his emotions. “I’m glad I was helpful. Give my regards to Marge.” Wainwright closed the door to her office after Pickens left. When he stepped outside, the air smelled fresher, and the day was brighter. He considered going to the gym since it was nearby but decided not to because he didn’t have gym clothes. He climbed into his SUV and drove to the sheriff’s office, feeling calm. As soon as Pickens entered the sheriff’s office, the part-time receptionist—a recent hire—said, “Sheriff, there’s a call for you. The man said he has information about a shooting.”

Pickens’s gut told him the call was about Leroy’s shooting. “Let me have it.” The receptionist handed him the receiver. “Sheriff Pickens. How can I help you?” “Sheriff,” said the caller, “I’m at the youth center. I have a teenager here who said he wanted to turn himself in for shooting someone. I called Leroy, and he said to call you.” “I’m glad you did. Can you keep the kid there?” “Yes. He’s not going anywhere. Anything I should do?” “Make sure he doesn’t leave. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” “We’ll be here.” Pickens handed the receiver back to the receptionist. He spotted Deputy Abrue about to enter the sheriff’s office and stopped her at the door. “Abrue. With me, now.” That startled Amy and Billy, and they shot looks at Pickens. Abrue approached. “Where to, Sheriff?” “Don’t ask. Just follow me.” “Don’t you want Amy?” “No. We’re going to the youth center. I’ll explain when we get there.” Abrue knew why he wanted her. It was because she was black, and the youth center consisted mostly of blacks. “Keep your finger trigger off your weapon,” said Pickens, “and don’t do anything foolish. Do you have your Taser gun?” Abrue patted her holster where the gun was. “Good. Just be careful how and when you use it. I don’t want anyone getting hurt if we can avoid it.” Abrue followed Pickens and climbed into his SUV. Pickens put his emergency lights on and sped to the youth center. After parking, Pickens said, “, use caution and follow my lead.”

“Are you expecting trouble, Sheriff?” “I don’t know what I’m expecting. Just be careful.” “Got it, Sheriff,” said Abrue and she followed Pickens. The youth center was in an old abandoned factory building. The exterior was red brick, but the trim and doorway were painted white. The landscaping was mostly shrubs and was maintained by volunteers from Leroy’s church and youth from the center. Pickens entered with Abrue behind him. He was met immediately by a tall black man who looked like a bald Zeke Jackson. “Sheriff Pickens, I’m Malik Dixon. I’m the one who called you.” Dixon extended his hand and eyed Deputy Abrue. Pickens shook Dixon’s hand. “This is Deputy Abrue. She’s assisting me.” Abrue extended her hand. “Please to meet you, Mr. Dixon.” “Please call me Malik.” He grinned at Abrue. “Where’s the kid?” said Pickens. “He’s inside in the director’s office,” answered Malik. “Where’s the director?” “I’m afraid that duty falls on me today. There’s only four of us here this morning —the maintenance worker and two female volunteers. The women run our preschool and day care center. I had the teachers lock the doors and keep the children in the rooms as a precaution. I didn’t know what to expect when you got here.” Pickens narrowed his eye. “Did you think we were going to arrive with guns blazing? That’s not how we operate. Take us to him.” “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the gym.” Pickens and Abrue followed Malik through double doors that opened into the

gymnasium. The floors were pristine like a professional basketball arena, and all the balls were stacked on racks. “He’s over there,” said Malik and pointed to the large picture window, where Pickens and Abrue saw a black teenager pacing in front of the director’s desk. “Does he have a weapon?” asked Pickens. “I asked, but he didn’t say yes or no, and I didn’t think I had to check. I just assumed he doesn’t. I know the kid, and he’s just a scared sixteen-year-old from a broken home.” Pickens’s face reddened. “You didn’t think to check? The kid may have shot Leroy in the back and robbed him. Leroy has a wife and family, and had it not been for Leroy, this youth center wouldn’t exist. And you’d be out of a job. Then what?” “Simmer down, Sheriff. For your information, I’m a volunteer and not on salary. Leroy and I knew each other in college. I’m a paramedic and today’s my day off. Leroy asked if I would help run the center. And I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Pickens clenched his jaw. “What’s the kid’s name?” “Melvin Dinkens.” Pickens looked at Dinkens as he paced behind the office window. “We’ll take it from here, Malik. Abrue, what I told you. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Abrue nodded. “Wait,” said someone behind them. Pickens turned around, turned up his palms, and said, “Leroy, what the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the hospital.” “I was,” said Leroy, “but I’m here now. I left the hospital against medical advice. Let me talk to the kid, JD.” “You went AMA? Are you stupid or something?” Pickens held up a hand. “Get out of here, Leroy. I’ve got this.”

“Not with your mindset you don’t.” Leroy’s gaze darted to the kid behind the window. “You’re angry. I get it, but let me handle this. Please, JD.” Pickens’s expression was pensive as he considered Leroy’s request. “What if the kid is armed and doesn’t want to talk? Especially if he’s the one who shot and robbed you?” Pickens exhaled. “What am I supposed to do if he points a gun at you? Do nothing and watch him reshoot you? You know I can’t do that, Leroy. Please let me and my deputy handle it...Please.” Leroy crossed his arms and winced as he felt a shooting pain in his back. “And you know I can’t do that either, JD. Please...I’m the victim...Let me handle it...I know I can talk him into surrendering without any trouble. He already surrendered himself to Malik. If he has a weapon, I’ll be able to disarm him. I know his family situation works against him. But please, JD.” Pickens rubbed the back of his head. “Dammit, Leroy, if this goes south, what do I tell Liana...and Annie? That I let you do my job and got shot again? And you didn’t make it? I can’t handle that, Leroy.” “Leroy,” said Malik, “you’re bleeding.” “Shit,” said Pickens. “This isn’t gonna get any better if your wound is worse. You need to back off, Leroy.” Leroy waved him off. “I’m fine, JD. I can handle this. I promise I won’t get shot again, and I’ll go back to the hospital after this is over.” As Pickens and Leroy argued, Abrue headed for the office. When Pickens noticed, he yelled, “Abrue, what do you think you’re doing! Get back here! That’s an order!” “I’ve got this, Sheriff,” said Abrue. She touched the Taser gun on her hip. “I can talk him down if necessary. Besides, I’ve dealt with teenagers ever since high school.” “She may be able to,” said Malik. “He’ll talk to a woman. He listens to his momma. I think she can.” “I do too,” said Leroy. “It’s worth a try, and I won’t be in harm’s way.”

Pickens’s brow wrinkled as he considered sending his deputy possibly into harm’s way. “Okay, Abrue, but if he pulls a gun out, use the Taser gun. And don’t think about it. Just do it. You understand me?” “Ten-four, Sheriff.” Abrue drew a deep breath and continued toward the office. The teenager watched as she did. Leroy put his hand on Pickens’s shoulder and said, “She’ll be okay, JD. She can handle it.” “Yeah, but you need to sit before I call an ambulance.” “You’ll get no argument from me.” Leroy grabbed a chair and sat. There was an eerie silence as the three men watched Abrue approach the office, knock on the door, and announce herself. They saw the kid back up against the far wall out of view. Abrue opened the door, stepped in, and also went out of sight.

CHAPTER 33

PICKENS’S GUT WRENCHED, Leroy twitched in his chair, and Malik ran a trembling hand over his baldpate when Abrue came into view. She had her arms extended and her palms down. Pickens felt relieved she was ready to use her Taser gun if necessary. The kid came into view. He had one arm extended and the other with his hand in his pocket. Pickens put his hand to his weapon and prepared to fire through the glass window in the event Abrue froze. In his mind, he hoped Abrue had had enough training in the academy to handle this type of situation and had had enough tactical experience as a deputy to accomplish it. Abrue’s right hand lowered to her side. With her left hand, she pointed at the window. The kid looked where she was pointing and slowly took his hand out of his pocket. Pickens readied himself to shoot, and Leroy said, “Wait, JD.” The kid had a weapon in his hand, and Abrue motioned to the counselor’s desk. The kid slowly placed the weapon on it and turned around with his hands up. Abrue grabbed the weapon and stuffed it in her belt. The kid lowered his hands behind him, and Abrue cuffed him. She turned and nodded so Pickens could tell she had defused the situation. Pickens removed his hand from his weapon. “Told you she could do it,” said Leroy. “Yeah,” said Pickens. “But if it had gone south, believe me, I would have shot the kid. I wouldn’t have had any other choice.” “Thank God you didn’t,” said Malik. “I knew she could do it.” “You had more faith in my deputy than I did, Malik, and I’m glad you did.” Pickens surprised himself with the comment but was glad he made it. Abrue and the kid came out of the office. “I read him his rights, Sheriff.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones,” said the kid. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I panicked when that car honked its horn and lit me up.” Leroy stood. “I forgive you, Melvin, but you need to make peace with yourself, and you’ll have to do penance...whatever the sheriff decides.” Leroy looked to Pickens for guidance. Pickens watched Abrue as she emptied the kid’s gun and put the bullets in her shirt pocket. Then she took a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, meticulously put the gun’s muzzle in one and the butt in the other, then wrapped the weapon in a neat package. She noticed Pickens watching and mouthed, Jason taught me. Pickens extended his palm, and Abrue gave him her handiwork. She tapped her shoulder, indicating her body camera was still recording. “That will be up to the county prosecutor and a judge,” said Pickens. “But you will do time.” “How much?” asked the kid. Before Pickens could answer, Malik said, “What did you do with the money you stole from Leroy?” “What money? I didn’t steal any money. I’ll cop to the shooting, but I ain’t going down for something I didn’t do.” “The money that was in the night bag,” said Leroy. “That’s it,” said Pickens. “No more questions. Abrue, get him out of here.” Abrue put her hand on the kid’s shoulder and guided him toward the entrance. As she did, the kid yelled, “I didn’t take the bag, Mr. Jones! I swear it! You had it in your hand when I bolted!” “If he didn’t take the night bag, JD, then who did?” asked Leroy. “The last thing I it was in my hand.” Pickens ran a shaky hand through his hair and said, “Beats me, but I’ll find out. I’m sure my deputies didn’t, and I doubt the EMTs did. If you’d had those cameras installed sooner, we’d know.”

“What happens to the kid now?” asked Malik. “We take him in for questioning, but first we need to have a parent or attorney there with him. Can you his parents?” “His father is in prison, and his mother...well...she’s not the most reliable,” said Malik. “I’ll call her if you want me to.” “I can’t question the kid without a parent or an attorney, so you’ll need to get one or the other.” “Will I do?” said Malik. “Do you have guardianship?” asked Pickens. “No, but—” “Then, the answer is no. If you can’t get the mother, I’ll ask the county prosecutor to get him a court-appointed lawyer. We’ll keep him in lockup until she does.” Pickens shrugged. “Sorry, it’s the best I can do. Leroy, how did you get here from the hospital?” “I took a cab. I’ll have Malik call one for me.” “I’ll take you,” said Malik. “I’ll tell the ladies I’ll be gone for a little while.” Leroy opened his mouth to protest, but Malik cut him off. “The ladies can handle things while I’m gone, and it’s not as though any kids will be arriving before school’s out.” “You two work it out,” said Pickens. “I have to go.” Pickens grinned and walked away, but not before taking one last glance at the window and the room where his young deputy and the teenager had faced off. If things had gone differently, one or both of them would have gotten shot, the kid with Abrue’s Taser gun or Abrue with the kid’s weapon Pickens now held in his hand. Abrue had placed the kid in the backseat and was waiting in the front. Pickens got in and said, “There should be an evidence bag in the glove compartment. Get it and put this and the bullets in it.” She got the evidence bag and put the weapon and the bullets in it. “We’ll talk about the arrest later in my office, Abrue.”

“I’m—” said Abrue. “I said later in my office, Deputy.” Pickens grabbed his vehicle’s radio microphone and said, “This is Sheriff Pickens. I’m 10-76. ETA thirty minutes.” Abrue sat back and pondered what her punishment would be for disobeying a direct order. When Pickens and Abrue arrived at the sheriff’s office, Abrue took the kid and put him in one of the two holding cells. As Pickens walked toward his office, Amy intercepted him. “What’s that all about?” she asked. “Leroy’s shooter, and this is the gun he used. Get Abrue to sign the bag; then get it to ballistics. Take Abrue’s statement and her body cam; then send her to my office. I’ll write my report in there.” He gave Amy the bag with the weapon in it, then headed for his office and left Amy dumbfounded. Pickens started to write up his report, then decided to call Marilyn Nudley. Nudley answered immediately. “JD, what’s up?” Pickens rubbed his chin. “Got a sixteen-year-old in a cell. We arrested him this morning. “Another Arnott situation?” “Not quite. The kid shot and robbed Leroy Jones. He’s had his rights read to him and confessed in front of four witnesses, including Leroy and me. We also have him on my deputy’s body camera. I haven’t questioned him yet. But Leroy and Malik Dixon, the youth center director, did. I also have the weapon.” “Hmm,” said Nudley. “Does Leroy want to press charges?” Pickens let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t ask, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he declined. The kid has only one parent, and Dixon said she wasn’t reliable. The father is in prison. I told Dixon if he can’t get the mother, I’ll have you get a court-appointed attorney for the kid.” “Are there any other relatives? Like a grandmother, aunt, or uncle?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Dixon or Leroy. So, what’s the verdict, Marilyn?” “Don’t ask Leroy yet since he’s the victim, and we don’t want to taint his decision. Ask Dixon. First, let’s see if we can get the mother. If not, we’ll go from there.” “I don’t want to keep the kid in a cell for more than a day or two.” “If you want, I can ask Judge Blumgarten for an emergency hearing to appoint a public defender. I can call social services and ask them to investigate the home environment. Does that help?” “Do you think it’s necessary to call social services?” “They could find out if there’s another adult in the kid’s life. It’s up to you. What’s the kid’s name?” “It’s Melvin Dinkens. Why?” “Hold on.” Pickens ran his hand through his hair as he waited for Nudley’s reply. “I’ve got a Melvin Dinkens who’s been in and out of juvie several times. You could send him to juvie while I work on the judge. He knows what to expect, and that way he’s off your hands.” “Let me think about it.” “Call me when you decide. And, JD, do you have any easy cases for me?” “Hey, I sent you the Doyle case, and all you had to do was convince a judge to accept the FBI’s extradition order. Wasn’t that easy enough?” “Bye, JD.”

* * *

Deputy Abrue knocked on Pickens’s door, and he said, “Enter.” Abrue entered, and Pickens gestured for her to take a seat.

She sat and said, “Sheriff, before you punish me, we should talk to Deputy Lansing about the money bag.” Pickens’s jaw dropped. “Are you accusing Lansing of stealing it?” Abrue shook her head. “No, sir. Lansing was the first on the scene, along with the EMTs, and he interviewed the witnesses. I asked them more questions as I had a gut feeling about them. Their answers are in Lansing’s report.” Pickens narrowed his eyes. “Do you suspect the witnesses took the bag? Is that what you’re implying?” “Yes,” said Abrue with a tense voice. “I think we should pursue it. And, Sheriff, if you’re going to suspend me for disobeying your order, I’ll understand. I know I put myself in harm’s way, but I don’t regret it. It’s what I’m paid to do, and I’d do it again. Pickens leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips. “Do you think I should suspend you, Abrue?” Abrue sniffled. “I would...if...I was you.” “Dammit, Abrue, are you going to cry?” “No...Yes...No...I guess so. Are you going to suspend me, Sheriff?” Pickens grabbed the box of tissues off his credenza and gave it to her. “Well, you’re not me. And no, I’m not going to suspend you, although I should. Your actions were dumb, but that was damn fine police work.” Pickens glared at her. “But the next time you disobey a direct order, I will fire you. Now, get out of my office and send Amy in.” Abrue stood. “Thank you...” “Out, Abrue. Now!” “Yes sir.” Abrue hurried out of his office and told Amy the sheriff wanted to see her. “You wanted to see me, JD?” said Amy.

“Yes, have a seat.” Pickens gestured toward a chair. “Did Abrue fill you in on her arrest?” “She did. She said the kid confessed to shooting Leroy and surrendered his weapon after he saw Leroy with you. Abrue also said she was worried you were going to suspend her. Did you?” “No, but I told her next time she disobeys a direct order, I’d fire her, and I will. Abrue won’t it it, but I think she needs to speak to a counselor. I want you to arrange it.” Amy nodded. “I wanted to talk to you because Abrue said we should talk to Lansing about the night Leroy got shot. She implied the witnesses might have taken Leroy’s night bag. You were there. What’s your take on it?” “I arrived later while Morgan was finishing processing the scene. The witnesses were already gone. Morgan thought Leroy might have seen the shooter. Based on the position of the body, Lansing’s statement that there were only keys on the ground when he arrived, and that Leroy is right-handed, Morgan believes Leroy turned after being shot.” To demonstrate, Amy twisted her body to the left. “And Leroy saw the shooter. It’s in his report. You arrived later.” “I did. Leroy had a night bag with money in it, and the kid swears he didn’t take it. He said it was in Leroy’s hand when he panicked and bolted.” Amy’s eyebrows furrowed. “So who took the night bag? The witnesses?” Pickens tilted his head. “If the kid’s telling the truth, we have to explore the possibility they did.” “Which means,” said Amy, “Good Samaritans became Bad Samaritans, and we have another case to solve. Dammit.” “Get Lansing’s and Morgan’s reports and review them. It’s your case for now. I’m going to the hospital to talk to Leroy. He has some explaining to do.” “When did Leroy get released from the hospital?” “He didn’t. He went AMA, and he had better be back in the hospital in good condition. Otherwise, this could be a murder case.” Pickens raised his hand. “One more thing. After I talk to Leroy, I’m going to visit my dad, and won’t return here. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

“Got it. How long do you plan on keeping the kid in lockup?” “No more than a day or two. It depends on whether Leroy’s youth director can locate a relative of the kid, or Nudley gets a lawyer appointed for him. She’s waiting for my call.” “Say hello to your mom for me.” Amy left the office; then Pickens called Nudley. “JD, have you made a decision yet?” “No. I have to talk to Leroy first. Also, the kid may not have robbed Leroy. We’re working on that. I’ll call you after I talk to Leroy and then Dixon.” “I’ll be here, JD.” Pickens got up and left the office, waved to everyone, and headed to the hospital.

CHAPTER 34

PICKENS WASN’T SURE what he’d ask Leroy, but he wanted an answer as to why Leroy hadn’t told him he knew the name of the kid who shot him. When Pickens arrived at the hospital, the first thing he had to do was to find out if Leroy had checked himself back into the hospital and his room number. As Pickens approached the reception desk, Dr. Smathers met him. “JD, can you arrest Leroy and cuff him to his bed so he doesn’t go AMA again?” Pickens had the answer to the first question; now, he needed Leroy’s room number. “I’d like to. Believe me, I would. How’s he doing, Elaine?” “He tore the stitches and needed them replaced as well as new bandages. Luckily, he got back here in time. He could have caused the wound to infect, and then he would have had a serious problem.” Dr. Smathers drew a deep breath. “Honestly, JD, that man is impossible.” “Tell me about it. I’ve known him since high school, and he hasn’t changed. What room is he in?” “The same one. After you visit him, stop and see your dad. He’s made more improvement since you were last here.” “I plan on it. I’ll see what I can do about Leroy, even if it means calling Liana and ratting him out.” Dr. Smathers grinned. “That’s what I should have done when he went AMA.” She grabbed his wrist and with a pained gaze said, “Are you okay, JD? You look troubled.” Pickens pursed his lips. “I’m fine. I had a bad morning.” But he wasn’t fine. He was overwhelmed by almost losing a deputy and Leroy not being totally honest with him. “Bad mornings sometimes weigh heavily on me.” Dr. Smathers pursed her lips. “I’ve had those mornings too. Unfortunately, I can’t allow them to get to me.” She smiled. “Chin up, JD, and have a good rest

of the day.” “Yeah. Thanks.” Dr. Smathers left Pickens and went on about her business. Pickens took the elevator to the second floor then walked to Leroy’s room. When he reached the entrance to the room, he saw Liana by Leroy’s bedside. Pickens made a detour and headed for the chapel. He hoped to find some guidance there. Except for an elderly black woman, the chapel was deserted. The woman had her head bowed and was in silent prayer. Pickens sat two rows behind the woman so he wouldn’t to disturb her. Pickens wasn’t sure what he should do, so he did what the woman did and lowered his head. He needed to decide what to do about Leroy. Should he treat him as a hostile witness who withheld information and hindered an investigation? Or, should he treat Leroy as his best friend since high school, an honest and religious man who heard the kid confess to shooting, then gave him forgiveness? As the sheriff, it wasn’t in Pickens’s purview to forgive the kid; it was up to a judge and jury. Pickens felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. The woman stood next to him. “Young man,” she said, “forgive me for intruding, but you look like your mind is in turmoil. Would you like someone to talk to?” Pickens wondered if it was apparent how he felt, and yes, he did need someone to talk to, but a stranger? Maybe a stranger was whom he should speak with about his dilemma. “If you don’t mind, but I don’t want to disturb your prayers.” The woman smiled. To Pickens, her smile reminded him of Leroy’s mother. “You’re not disturbing them. I’ve finished saying what I needed to. May I sit with you?” Pickens scooted over so she could sit. She noticed Pickens’s weapon and said, “Are you a police officer?” “No, ma’am, I’m the sheriff. Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?” “Yes. Would you like to tell me what’s bothering you? I’m a good listener.” Pickens hesitated and wondered if he should. Then, without thinking, he told the

woman of his dilemma with Leroy. “He’s been my friend since high school, and I’m conflicted.” The woman placed her hand on Pickens’s hand. “Sometimes the difficult decisions in life are the ones that are easier if you do what’s in your heart. What’s in your heart?” “Maybe I should trust my friend and hear what he has to say.” The woman smiled. “I’m sure that’s what the Lord would want you to do.” Pickens had wanted guidance when he entered the chapel and might have gotten it from the woman, but he wondered why she was here. “Thank you. May I ask why you’re here?” Her features softened, implying she had a sense of calmness about her. “I came to pray for my husband. He’s been ill.” Pickens took a deep breath and said softly, “I hope your prayers helped and he is doing better.” The woman stood. “He is, thank you. He’s with the Lord now. I hope you find solace in your decision. Good day, young man.” Pickens stood, hoping to comfort her, but she had disappeared. Feeling overwhelmed, he stared down at his empty palms, looked up, then left the chapel and headed for Leroy’s room. When he got there, Liana had left, and Leroy was watching television. Pickens hesitated before entering. He wanted to gather his thoughts so he wouldn’t say something he’d later regret. “Are you gonna stand out there all day, JD, or are you coming in?” said Leroy. “I’m not coming in. I’m waiting for a taxi.” “You’ll be waiting a long time because the last taxi left this morning. I know because I got it. Come on, JD. You’re not mad at me, are you? I did what I had to.” Pickens had already decided Leroy had done what he felt he had to, and Pickens had decided what he was going to do and entered the room. “And I did what I

had to. I’m not mad at you; I’m disappointed. I should call Liana and rat you out.” Leroy smiled. “Too late. I ratted myself out. Liana already knows what I did. I called her from the youth center and had her come and get me.” Leroy pursed his lips and shook his head. “That woman sure can chew a guy out when she’s mad. You just missed her.” Pickens looked up as though thanking God for Liana doing what he might have done. “Serves you right for what you did.” Pickens clenched his jaw. “You weren’t honest with me, Leroy. You—” Leroy raised his palm. “You’re gonna say...that I should have told you I knew the kid who shot me. You’re right. I should have.” Pickens’s stomach relaxed. The pressure was off as Leroy had saved him from a confrontation. “Yes, you should have. Why didn’t you?” “Because I knew the kid would do the right thing and turn himself in. That’s why I asked you to wait.” Pickens gritted his teeth. “But you put my deputy in harm’s way. Friends don’t do that, Leroy.” “I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” “Damn right it won’t. Did Malik have any luck with the mother, a relative, or someone? I’ve got the county prosecutor waiting for my call to see if she should get a court-appointed attorney.” “No. The kid’s mother is usually strung out on drugs. She’s been that way ever since her husband went to prison.” Leroy pursed his lips. “Have her get a courtappointed lawyer.” “Okay. I’ll call her after I leave you. Then I’m going to visit my dad.” “Say hello for me, JD.” “Yeah.” Pickens left the room, and once in the hallway, he called Nudley and told her to get the kid a court-appointed lawyer. “I don’t want to keep the kid in

lockup more than a day or two, Marilyn, so make it happen.” “I’ll do my best, JD.”

* * *

Pickens walked down the hallway to his father’s room. His stomach quivered from anxiety as to what awaited him as he approached the doorway. Pickens stepped into the room and watched as his mother and father were in an animated conversation. His mother noticed him and said, “Russell, dear, we have company.” Pickens approached, and his father looked at the framed picture, then at Pickens, and said, “JD, right? I you from last time.” Pickens’s heart raced. “I see you’re still packing.” Pickens’s eyes narrowed. Then he realized his father was talking about the weapon on his side. “Come on in and us. Would you like a cup of coffee?” “Sure, I could use one.” “Jeanette, get JD a cup of coffee.” Pickens’s mother was about to stand, but Pickens held out his hand. “That’s okay, Mom. I can get it.” Russell’s eyebrows squished together. “Mom? Jeanette, did he just call you Mom?” “Yes, dear. He’s my son.” Russell’s eyes narrowed. “Your son? Then that makes him...” “Your son, Dad,” said Pickens. Russell glanced once again at the framed picture. “Yes. Now I . You’re JD, my son. Sorry, son, my memory hasn’t been the same lately. Get that coffee

and sit with us. I want to hear what you’ve been up to lately.” Jeanette crossed her hands over her heart and smiled at Pickens. “Is that a tear on your cheek, JD?” asked his dad. “Are you crying?” “No, Dad, it’s a happy tear. Let me get my coffee.” Russell looked at Jeanette. “Are you crying, Jeanette?” “No, dear, they’re happy tears. I’m going to get a cup of coffee. I’ll be right back.” Jeanette stood and ed Pickens at the coffee pot and put her hand on his shoulder. “Happy, son?” Pickens smiled. “Absolutely. This is the best of the best.” He poured his mother a cup of coffee and one for himself. Then they went back and sat next to the bed, each on one side. “Okay, JD, let’s hear it,” said Russell. Pickens didn’t want to mention the cases he’d been working on, so he talked about sports, specifically the New Years’ Day bowl games, college football championship, and the Super Bowl. “We took a cruise vacation, but I’ll let Sarah tell you about it.” “Sarah?” said Russell. “Is she going to visit me?” “She has school, dear,” said Jeanette. “I can maybe bring her in the evening,” said Pickens. “Or on Saturday when she doesn’t have school. That way, she can stay longer, and Marge can come too.” “Yes, Saturday would be better. I can’t wait to see her and Marge.” Pickens was overwhelmed with joy at his father ing both his wife and daughter. “Then Saturday it is. Dad, I’d like to stay longer, but I have to get back to the office.” Russell pointed a finger. “Right, the sheriff’s office. You’re the sheriff.” Russell grinned. “Go get ’em, Sheriff. Before you go, let’s...Jeanette, what’s that thing they do on the television programs we watch?”

“It’s called a high five, dear, but you should bump fists with JD.” “Yeah, much better. Okay, JD, bump fists.” Russell raised a fist, and Pickens bumped it. “See ya, son.” Pickens smiled. “See ya, Dad. See ya, Mom.” Jeanette smiled then Pickens left the room. He walked down the hallway to the elevator, and Dr. Smathers met up with him. “So?” she said. “Did you see your dad?” Pickens smiled. “Yes, and it was amazing how much his memory has improved. He knew who I was. I had coffee with him and my mom, and we had an actual conversation. Saturday I’m bringing Marge and Sarah to visit him. Damn, I’m so happy I could—” Dr. Smathers stepped back. “Oh no you don’t, JD. You’re not going to kiss me like last time. Go home and kiss Marge.” “Yeah, you’re right, but you’re no fun. See ya, Elaine.” “See ya, JD.”

CHAPTER 35

MARILYN NUDLEY HAD just walked out of the building where her office was when a man brandishing a weapon approached her. “What are you doing here, Mr. Arnott?” “You took my family from me, you bitch” said Arnott. “Now you’re gonna pay for it.” Arnott raised his weapon. “Sheriff’s office!” shouted Deputy Jackson. “Drop the weapon, Mr. Arnott. Do it now!” For a brief second, Jackson’s mind drifted back to the night he and Deputy Conly had been ambushed, and Jackson wasn’t able to get a shot off before Conlon was killed. He wasn’t going to let that happen this time. “Fuck you!” yelled Arnott, then pointed his weapon at Nudley, who had placed her briefcase in front of her as a shield. Arnott fired his gun at Nudley then aimed at Jackson. “Drop it, Mr. Arnott!” yelled Jackson. “Fuck you!” said Arnott. Arnott was about to fire his weapon, but Jackson shot Arnott in the chest, killing the man. Jackson then holstered his weapon and said, “Are you okay, Ms. Nudley?” Nudley ran her hand across her chest. “I...I think I am,” said Nudley. She glanced down at Arnott’s body. “Is he dead?” “Yes,” replied Jackson; then grabbed Nudley before she fell to the ground. Jackson scooped her up in his arms a set her down on a nearby bench. Nudley breathed a sigh. “Thank you, Deputy Jackson. I just need a moment.” “You’ll have to wait until Detective Dunne gets here to take your statement. I’m going to radio her.” He was about to radio Dunne when Dunne approached.

Dunne checked on Nudley, then Jackson; and then the body on the ground. “I’ll get Ms. Nudley’s statement, Corporal Jackson. You write up yours; then I’ll need your weapon and body cam.” “Ms. Nudley’s briefcase has the slug that Arnott shot at her,” said Jackson. “I’ll get it. Did Arnott give you a choice?” “No, ma’am. He had already fired at Ms. Nudley and was about to shoot me.” “Okay. Good job, Corporal Jackson,” said Dunne, then talked to Nudley and got her statement. Next, she called Pickens.

* * *

When Pickens walked out of the hospital, his phone chirped. “Detective Dunne, what can I do for you?” “Good afternoon, Sheriff. Mr. Arnott got out of jail and is dead. He came here looking for his wife and son. He was angry. When I told him I had no idea where they were, he said he was going after the bitch who locked him up and then return and finish the job with me. I believe he meant the county prosecutor.” Pickens felt a tightness in his stomach. He was sure if Arnott went after Nudley, he would do her harm—possibly kill her, especially if Nudley refused to tell him what happened to his wife and son. “As a precaution,” said Dunne, “I had Jackson follow him.” “Did anything happen?” “Yes. Arnott went to her office and threatened her with a gun. Jackson had arrived, approached, and announced who he was.” Dunne then told Pickens about the incident as Jackson had described it to her. “Is Nudley okay?”

“Yes, but her briefcase isn’t. I have Jackson’s weapon and body camera, and I have Arnott’s weapon as well as the slug from Nudley’s briefcase. I put him on istrative leave until he’s cleared.” “Did Nudley give you a written statement ing Arnott’s intentions?” “Yes, and I filed my statement. Jackson filed his for the shooting and as a witness to Arnott’s threatening me. Do you need anything else?” Another incident in which Pickens’s deputies were put in harm’s way and Nudley too, all on the same day as they were doing their jobs. Thankfully, the only injury was to Arnott and Nudley’s briefcase. “Bring the statements, Arnott’s weapon, the slug, and Jackson’s body camera to my office. and we’ll review them with Amy and Billy. Good job, Detective. Tell Jackson I said the same for him. Set up an appointment with the counselor you used last time. After she clears Jackson for duty, he can return. I’m grateful no one on our side was hurt.” After Pickens’s call with Dunne ended, his phone chirped again. He answered as soon as he saw who was calling. “Marilyn, I just got off the phone with Detective Dunne. Are you okay?” Pickens waited for what felt like an hour until Nudley finally answered. “I’m not hurt, JD, but I’m definitely not okay. Arnott scared the shit out of me. Thank goodness Deputy Jackson was there, or I’d be dead. I wish you were here so that you could hold me.” Pickens could hear her sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that, JD. I’m sorry, but I’ve never been so scared.” “It’s okay. If I were there, I’d hold you. Is there anyone you can call? Marilyn...Marilyn...are you okay? Is there anyone you can call?” “I’m okay. I just needed a moment. I’ll call my dad. He always says the right thing...especially when I need him to. Thanks, JD.” Nudley ended the call. “Shit!” said Pickens, then went to his SUV and drove to the sheriff’s office. When Pickens arrived at the sheriff’s office, Dunne was already there. She, Amy, and Billy were reviewing the video feed from Jackson’s body camera. Pickens ed them.

“There’s no mistaking it,” said Amy. “Jackson did the right thing.” Billy reran the feed for Pickens. “I agree,” he said. “Get Arnott’s weapon and the slug to ballistics. I’ll review the statements in my office, then issue a press statement. They can spin it any way they want. As far as this office is concerned, it’s an ongoing investigation.” Dunne left with the evidence and took it the ME’s office for ballistics. Pickens went to his office, reviewed the witness statements and issued his press statement. When Pickens came out of his office, Amy approached him. “I reviewed Lansing’s statement from the night of Leroy’s shooting and Morgan’s statement. I agree with Abrue. I think the Good Samaritans weren’t so good. I have Billy running their license plate. Once we locate them, we’ll bring them in for questioning.” “Good. Let me know when you do. I may want to sit in on it.” “How’s your father, JD?” Pickens’s face lit up with glee. “He’s doing great. He recognized me, and we had an actual conversation.” “That’s great. Do you think he’ll be going home anytime soon?” Pickens’s glee changed to melancholy. “I don’t know, but I hope it’s soon. I’ll call Nudley in the morning about Dinkens. I’ll see you in the morning. Hopefully we’ll have something on those Samaritans.” Feeling down, Pickens decided to go home.

CHAPTER 36

AFTER PICKENS AND his family had sat down for dinner, he told Marge and Sarah about his conversation with his father, and that they would visit him on Saturday. “Can I tell Grandpa about our vacation, Daddy?” “You sure can. I told Grandpa you would. He can’t wait to hear about it.” Later, after Sarah was in bed, Marge got them each a cup of coffee and sat down next to Pickens. “You don’t look as happy as you did telling Sarah about your dad, JD. What’s bothering you?” Pickens took a sip of coffee, set the cup down, and breathed a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure he wanted to burden her with the other events of the day, but she was always there for him and listened to his problems. But the issues he was keeping inside him sometimes made him feel like quitting law enforcement and going back to practicing law. “Marilyn Nudley got shot today,” Pickens blurted out. “She what?” “She got shot, but she’s okay. At least that’s what she said, but I’m not so sure.” “What happened?” Pickens told her about Arnott shooting Nudley, then Jackson shooting and killing Arnott. “It was a good shooting, and I’m going to clear Jackson after I talk to Connie Dupree.” “Does Marilyn have anyone to talk to besides you?” “She said she was going to call her dad. He’d know what to say. Don’t get angry, but she said she wished I was there to hug her.”

“Why would I get mad? She’s not only the county prosecutor but also your friend, and yes, an old girlfriend. But at times like these, a friend needs a friend.” Pickens felt a warmth in his heart. “Yeah, and a husband needs a caring wife. But there’s more. I almost lost a deputy.” He told her about Abrue’s confrontation with Dinkens. “I thought about firing her, but I couldn’t. She got the kid’s confession on her body camera. I also considered arresting Leroy to keep him in the hospital.” “But you didn’t do either, and you did the right thing in both cases. What are you going to do about the kid?” “I don’t know. I asked Nudley to get a public defender for him, but I don’t want to rush her after getting shot. She needs time to heal like I did when I got shot. I’ll call her tomorrow and ask how’s she’s doing. You okay with that?” Marge reached out and placed her hand on his thigh. “Of course, I am. You can visit her if you think it’s necessary. Just don’t...” “I won’t. I’ll just call her.” Marge smiled. “Anything else you want to get off your chest, or are you ready for bed and...?” Pickens smiled. “Bed and...”

* * *

After coffee with Marge Thursday morning, Pickens grabbed his gym bag and headed to the gym. After a strenuous workout and a shower, although reluctant, he called Nudley, but the call went to voice mail, and he didn’t leave a message. He’d try again later. Next, he stopped at Lydia’s Bakery and bought a dozen donuts for the office and a scone to munch on during his drive to the sheriff’s office. Before leaving the parking space he was in, he called Connie Dupree, the county commission’s chairwoman.

“JD,” said Dupree, “I talked to Marilyn about what happened yesterday.” Pickens was surprised she had. “She’s okay physically but not mentally. Getting shot scared the hell out of her. I let her lean on me. She talked to her dad, and her parents plan on visiting her this weekend. I have some business I have to attend to, and then I’m going to spend the rest of the day with her. She won’t be at her office today.” Pickens was grateful for Dupree’s attention to Nudley, but he wondered if he’d get the chance to get a word in. “Is that why you’re calling me?” “No, but thanks for helping Marilyn. I wanted to update you on the other events from yesterday.” He told her about Jackson’s shooting, Abrue’s actions, and Dinkens’s confession and arrest. “I gave a statement to the press for what it’s worth. You know how the press is.” “Don’t I. Thanks, JD. I’ll give my report to the county commissioners. Anything else?” “Nope, that about does it.” He didn’t want to mention his need for Nudley to get Dinkens an attorney. That could wait. Before entering the sheriff’s office, he tried Nudley. His call went to voice mail, and again he didn’t leave a message. Pickens greeted the part-time receptionist and Stacey, the dispatcher/emergency operator, then headed for his office. Amy blocked his path and said, “Billy hasn’t got the name of the Samaritan yet from DMV. When he does, we plan on interviewing him.” Pickens held up his hand. “Hold off on that. Send a couple of deputies to the restaurant parking lot; then have them canvass a two-mile area on foot. They’ll need to walk one side of the road only. My gut tells me that if the Samaritan took the bag, it’s possible the enger emptied it and then threw it out the window. If I’m right, we might find the bag empty but get fingerprints. Then you can interview both Samaritans.” “I like that idea. I’ll send Lansing and—” “Send Abrue too. She and Lansing did the interviews. Did you arrange for a counselor for Abrue?” “Yes. She has an appointment tomorrow afternoon. She resisted, but I told her it was mandatory. Have you heard from Nudley?”

“No. I’ve tried but keep getting voice mail. I’ll try again. I talked to Connie Dupree about Jackson’s shooting. She’ll talk to the commissioners so that’s taken care of. I’ll be in my office. I’m gonna try Nudley again.” Pickens walked to his office and called Nudley but once again got voice mail and didn’t leave a message. He thought it was too impersonal, considering the situation. Jimmy Noseby, the reporter, called Pickens about the Nudley shooting, but Pickens refused to comment, saying it was an active investigation. Pickens said he had a suspect in the local icon’s shooting but declined to name the suspect or the victim, citing Marsy’s Law. Noseby had to rely on the word of someone who claimed to be at the scene of Nudley’s shooting. His unnamed source at the hospital could only that an L. Jones was a patient who’d had back surgery. Pickens deputies also declined comment stating, they didn’t talk about active investigations.

CHAPTER 37

NUDLEY HAD PREPARED the papers to have a public defender appointed for Melvin Dinkens before the shooting. Knowing Pickens wanted it done sooner rather than later, she called her assistant to have her file the papers with the court. Judge Emanuel Blumgarten, aware of Nudley’s situation, appointed Theodore “Ted” Symington, the attorney next up on the list of those due for public defender duty. Friday morning, Symington arrived at the sheriff’s office, announced himself, and asked for Pickens. Since Burgess’s grand entry, Pickens had had a wall installed between his office and the receptionist’s area with a shatterproof glass entrance. A key card allowed age through the door, and once inside, it was necessary to go through a -through metal detector. “Do you have an appointment with the sheriff?” asked the receptionist. Symington pursed his lips. “No. I’m here to see him about Melvin Dinkens. I’m his public defender. Open the damn door. Now!” “One moment, please.” The receptionist dialed Pickens. “Sir, there’s a Ted Symington here to see you. He said he’s Melvin Dinkens’s public defender.” “I’ll come to you and then you can buzz him in.” “Sir,” said the receptionist, “the sheriff will be with you in a minute. Then I’ll buzz you in.” Symington checked his watch. “I’m on a tight schedule, so he’d better hurry.” The receptionist ignored him and waited for Pickens to give her the okay. When he did, she said, “Sir, I’ll buzz you in. You’ll have to go through a through metal detector once you enter.” “Are you serious?” “Yes, sir.” She pressed the buzzer, and the attorney entered, then ed through

the metal detector. Pickens was waiting for him. “Is this necessary? I’m an attorney, for God’s sake.” Pickens grinned. “Everyone goes through the gate. Even God does. Follow me. What’s your name again?” “It’s Ted Symington, but you can call me Mr. Symington or Counselor.” “Right,” said Pickens. “Follow me, Ted.” “Um, it’s—” “Hey, you coming or not?” The attorney shook his head and followed Pickens. “Amy, get the Dinkens kid and put him in the conference room.” “On it, Sheriff.” Amy went to get the prisoner. “Conference room?” said the attorney. “Don’t you have an interview room or an interrogation room?” “Conference room, interview room, or interrogation room,” said Pickens, “they’re all the same. Are there any questions you have for me?” “Yes. What’s my client charged with?” Pickens rubbed his chin. “Well, let’s see. For starters, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, fleeing the scene of a crime, and robbery. The last one we’re still investigating. We have his confession on tape in front of four witnesses, one of which was the victim. We have the weapon the kid used, and ballistics matched it with the slug from the victim. Is that enough for you?” “How long have you been holding him here?” “Two days. We’ve been waiting for you. After you talk to your client, he goes to juvie.” “Juvie?” said the attorney. “Why can’t he go to the juvenile detention center?”

Pickens smiled. “Juvie is the juvenile detention center, Counselor.” “Right. I knew that.” “Uh-huh,” said Pickens. Billy turned his head and stifled a laugh. “Here comes your client now.” “Does he have to be in handcuffs, Sheriff?” “Yes. It’s for everyone’s protection.” Amy escorted the kid to the conference room. “For your information, Counselor, there are no cameras, recorders, or oneway mirrors. You and your client have complete privacy. When you’re done, open the door and shout.” The attorney and the kid entered the conference room; then Pickens closed the door. “Whew,” said Amy. “The attorney looks like he just got out of law school and ed the bar, and this is his first case.” “Yeah,” said Pickens. “Nudley is gonna eat him up in court.” “Speaking of Nudley, have you heard from her?” Pickens rubbed the back of his head. “No. She doesn’t answer my calls. I’ll keep trying.” Forty-five minutes later, the conference room door opened, and the attorney said, “We’re ready, Sheriff.” “Billy,” said Pickens, “I need a deputy to escort the suspect to juvie.” “I can do it, Sheriff,” said Amy. “No. I need you here, Detective.” “I can get Abrue or Lansing,” said Billy. “No,” said Pickens. “Neither of them. You do it.” Billy shrugged and took the arm of the kid. “Here, take my car,” said Amy and tossed him the keys.

Billy caught the keys mid-air and escorted the kid out of the sheriff’s office. “You may want to follow them, Counselor,” said Pickens, “so, you don’t get lost.” “I knew that,” said the attorney. “I won’t get lost. I’ll use my car’s GPS.” “Right,” said Pickens and watched the attorney hurry to catch up with Billy and his client. “JD,” said Amy, “Abrue and Lansing called. They found what appears to be the money bag on the side of the road. They’re bringing it in.” “Good. Let me know when they get here. I’ll be in my office. I’m going to try Nudley again.” When Billy returned from taking the Dinkens kid to juvie, he went right back to his search on the witnesses’ vehicle. “Uh, Sheriff!” shouted Billy. “We’ve got a problem!” Pickens stepped out from his office and said, “What’s that mean?” “The tag that’s in Lansing’s report is expired, and it belonged to Joanna Tillotson of Howie-in-the-Hills. She has a new tag, and it’s for a 2019 Acura MDX. Plus, the Good Samaritans’ info is bogus.” “Which means our Good Samaritans are not who they said they are,” said Amy. “There was no description of them in Lansing’s report. Hopefully, there’ll be fingerprints on the bag.” “Yeah, hopefully,” said Pickens. “Let me know when Abrue and Lansing get here.” Pickens went back to his office and tried Nudley again. He got the same response and started to wonder if she was ignoring him. He left his office and strolled into the bullpen just as Abrue and Lansing entered the sheriff’s office. Abrue held up a green bag. “We found it...or rather a woman walking her dog found it,” said Abrue. “She was going to take it to the restaurant.”

“What’s in the green bag?” asked Amy. “It looks like a poop bag.” “It is,” said Abrue. “The money bag was in the gutter about a mile from the restaurant,” said Lansing, not to be outdone by Abrue. “The woman’s dog spotted it and sniffed it. She picked up the money bag with the poop bag and put it in the bag. We had gone about a mile and a half and were on our way back to the parking lot when she stopped us.” Finally, thought Pickens, they had a break, and they’d be able to wrap up the shooting of Leroy. “Get it to the lab so they can check for prints,” said Pickens. “Tell them to rush it and send the results to Billy.” “We’re on it, Sheriff,” said Abrue. “Not you, Abrue,” said Amy. “You have an appointment. Get going and don’t be late.” Abrue feigned a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” Then she and Lansing left. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for,” said Amy. “Let’s hope so.” “Any luck with Nudley?” “No. I’m starting to worry. I may go to her house if I don’t hear from her soon.” “Want me to go with you? It might help if she sees a woman with you.” Pickens mulled it over. He wasn’t sure if having Amy with him would help as Connie Dupree had visited Nudley, and she’d had no luck with the county prosecutor. “I’ll let you know.” Pickens’s phone chirped. “Finally,” he said. Amy sat on the edge of her desk, eager to hear what Nudley had to say. But when Pickens glanced at the caller ID, he shook his head at Amy and answered the call. “Connie, what’s up?” “Listen, JD, I know you’re still trying to reach Marilyn, but she doesn’t want to

talk to you yet. Her parents are in town, and she told me to tell you she’ll call you Monday. So, please, stop calling.” “Okay, but is she okay?” “She’s coping. It’s not every day that she gets shot at and a briefcase saves her life. Just give her some space.” “Okay. Thanks, Connie.” Pickens looked at his phone and saw it was dark. Dupree had hung up. “So?” asked Amy. “Connie said Nudley’s coping. Her parents are with her, and she’ll call me on Monday.” “That’s it?” Pickens shrugged. “That’s it.” “What do we do now?” Pickens pursed his lips. “We wait for the results from the money bag. If it takes too long, I’m going to go home early. You and Billy should do the same.” “I’ll wait for the results,” said Billy. “It might not be that long.” “I’ll wait too,” said Amy. Pickens shrugged. “Then we’ll all wait.” He smiled. “If we had a fireplace, we could roast marshmallows while we wait.” “Better yet,” said Amy, “why don’t you get us donuts?” “I can do that. I’ll be right back.” Pickens left for the bakery. “He’s such an easy mark,” said Amy. Both she and Billy laughed. When Pickens returned with the donuts, Amy grabbed the box from him, and she and Billy each grabbed a couple.

Billy had finished one donut and was about to start on another when he got a call from the ME’s office. He listened and repeatedly said, “Uh-huh,” and made some notes. When he finished the call, he said, “Got the results from the money bag. There were five sets of prints. Two belonged to Leroy and Liana. One on the money bag and poop bag belonged to the woman who found the money bag.” Billy paused to catch his breath. “The other two are being sent to me to do a database check. They should be in my e-mail now.” He opened his e-mail and the message from the ME’s office. “Got them.” “Then get to it,” said Pickens. “We don’t have all day.” “On it,” said Billy. He entered the results into the state’s database and ran a search. While he waited, Billy munched on his second donut. “Got one.” “Which one?” said Amy. “The female. She has a rap-sheet and is currently a person of interest in a string of burglaries in Miami. She goes by several names. The last one was Ivy Pendelson.” “Sounds like a bogus name to me,” said Pickens. “Got the male,” said Billy. “He uses several aliases and is also a person of interest in Miami. There’s a warrant out for his arrest in Chamblee, Georgia for car theft.” “We’re not gonna catch those two, JD,” said Amy. “We can put out a BOLO for the car, but they’ve probably ditched it or stolen another one.” “Yeah,” said Pickens. “Add the theft of Leroy’s money to their list of crimes.” “Done,” said Billy. “I’ll call the kid’s attorney and tell him we’re dropping the robbery charge. They’ll both be happy.” Pickens started to dial then hesitated. “Better yet, I’ll wait until Monday when I talk to Nudley, and she can make the call.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s been a long week. You two go home. I’ll see you Monday.”

* * *

During dinner at home, Pickens seemed distraught, and Marge noticed. She waited until dinner was over, and Sarah had left the dining room. Pickens helped clear the table and prepared the dishes for the dishwasher. As he put the last plate in the machine, Marge chose that moment to question him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Something you want to talk about, JD? I’ll listen if you want me to.” Pickens smiled. “I’d like to. This thing with Marilyn Nudley is bothering me. She won’t answer my calls. Connie Dupree talked to her, and Marilyn told her to tell me to stop calling her, that she’ll talk to me Monday. I don’t know if that means she’ll be back to work or call me from home. And I need her to resolve Leroy’s robbery.” Marge grabbed his arm. “Marilyn is a big girl, JD. When she’s ready, she’ll call you, as Connie said.” “But she wasn’t supposed to get shot. I’m the one who took that man’s family away from him, not her. She didn’t sign up for this.” “Marilyn was doing her job, just as you and your deputies do every day. They do it because they’re the ones who protect those who live in this county from criminal elements. I’m the one who worries every day that you won’t come home to Sarah and me. Marilyn also works to keep the criminal elements off the streets just as you do.” Pickens drew a deep breath. “Yeah, there’s that. And I forgot that it’s you who keeps me grounded.” Pickens wrapped her in his arms. “I love you, wide receiver. Thanks for being here for me.” “I love you too, quarterback, and I’ll always be here for you.” Marge glanced into the living room where Sarah and Bailey were watching television. “I think it’s safe to kiss me.” Pickens pulled her close and smothered her mouth. “Whew, that was some kiss. Do it again.” Pickens did it again. Then they ed Sarah and Bailey.

“You two should get a room,” said Sarah. Pickens and Marge laughed.

CHAPTER 38

ON SATURDAY, PICKENS, Marge, and Sarah arrived at the hospital and followed Sarah to her grandfather’s room. Both Russell and Jeanette were happy to see their granddaughter. Sarah strolled up to the side of the bed, and Jeanette rubbed her hand through Sarah’s hair. “Sarah, honey, it’s good to see you. Isn’t it, Russell?” Russell smiled. “You bet it is. I’ve been waiting for you to tell us about your vacation.” Sarah’s eyes glowed. Just then, Dr. Smathers entered the room. She walked past Pickens and up to Russell’s bed. “What’s this?” she said. “Is this another party, and I didn’t get an invite?” Russell’s brows hiked. “Good morning, Dr. Smathers. Meet Sarah, my granddaughter.” Jeanette placed her hand over her heart. She was ecstatic that Russell still recognized Dr. Smathers. “Good to see you, Sarah,” said Dr. Smathers and glanced at the monitor. Russell’s vitals were normal. “How are you feeling this morning?” “As great as the apple pie Jeanette made me on New Year’s Day,” replied Russell. Jeanette’s eyes lit up, surprised that he ed the pie. “I bet it was great,” said Dr. Smathers. “It seems I’m interfering. I’ll just take your temperature and leave.” She reached into her lab coat, took out a non digital thermometer, and pointed it at Russell’s forehead. “Normal,” she said. “Russell, I’m taking the rest of the weekend off, but on Monday, I’m going to order some tests. If the results are as I expect them to be, I’m having a physical therapist get you out of bed and walking. Then we’ll remove your bandages so the therapist can get your arms moving, and you can use a walker. Then your twenty-four-hour nurse can sleep in her own bed at night. If you can manage on your own, you might get to go home soon. How does that sound?”

Russell ignored her. “What’s the matter, Russell? You don’t seem enthused.” “Dad, did you hear her? She said you might get to go home.” Russell ignored Pickens. “Russell, are you listening?” said Jeanette. “It’s just...” said Russell. “I was...I was...just getting used to hospital food.” He smiled. “Gotcha.” “You old fool, you,” said Jeanette. “You had us worried.” “Worried? Why? Why wouldn’t I be glad to go home? I’m sick of this bed and hospital food.” Dr. Smathers shook her head. “Okay. It’s time for me to leave. A moment please, JD?” Pickens narrowed his eyes and followed Dr. Smathers into the hallway. “I heard about Marilyn Nudley, JD. Is she okay?” Pickens shrugged. “I don’t know. She won’t answer my calls. Connie Dupree talked to her.” He told Dr. Smathers about his conversation with Dupree. “Hmm. Maybe I should call Marilyn just to let her know she has another friend who cares about her.” “It might help. Thanks. Would you let me know on Monday?” “Absolutely. It might help if Marilyn saw the therapist you’re seeing.” “Maybe. Thanks for being a good friend, Elaine.” “Anytime.” Dr. Smathers winked and walked down the hallway. When Pickens returned to his father’s room, Jeanette, Russell, and Sarah were in animated conversation, with Sarah monopolizing the exchange. Sarah was still talking about the cruise. Marge ed Pickens in the doorway, and both listened. “Where does she get the energy from, Marge? Some of the things she said I don’t happening.”

Marge elbowed him. “That’s because we weren’t always with her. ?” She grinned. “We were...you know?” Pickens smiled. “Oh yeah. Now I .” “Sarah, darling, your Grandpa needs to rest, and it’s almost time for his lunch.” Jeanette glanced at Pickens and Marge. “I think your parents might want to go to lunch too.” Jeanette nodded at Pickens and Marge. “Sarah.” Sarah turned when she heard her mother’s voice. “Daddy and Mommy are hungry, and we need to let Grandma and Grandpa rest. Time for us to go home.” Sarah pursed her lips. “Okay. Grandpa, I have to go home now. But I’ll be back again.” Russell smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’ve got lots more to tell you,” added Sarah. “I’ll be here. Won’t I, Gramma?” “Yes, dear.” Jeanette smiled. “I’ll be here too. Sarah, give us both kisses.” Sarah kissed Jeanette then Russell. “Bye, Gramma and Grandpa. Okay, I’m ready.” “Is there anything you need from home, Mom?” asked Pickens. “Yes. Marge, could you bring me a change of clothes and a new toothbrush?” Marge winked at Jeanette. “I’ll have JD take me home, and then I’ll go to your house and get them.” Marge paused. “How about instead I come get you and take you home so that you can pack a bag?” “That sounds better, Jeanette,” said Russell. “You can decide what clothes you want and what toothbrush you want.” “Are you sure it’s no bother, Marge?” “Of course not. I’ll see you in less than an hour.” “See you, Mom. See you, Dad.” Jeanette and Russell waved.

When they were in the hallway, Pickens said, “That’s great news about Dad.” “Yes,” said Marge. “What did Elaine want?” “She asked about Marilyn Nudley. I told her what I knew. Elaine is going to call Marilyn. She also suggested Marilyn would benefit by talking to Dr. Wainwright.” “I agree. I think Marilyn could.” Marge returned to the hospital in less than an hour to pick up Jeanette and take her home. Jeanette took a much-needed shower, packed a bag with clean clothes and a new toothbrush. Marge then drove Jeanette back to the hospital and said goodbye.

CHAPTER 39

SINCE NO SERIOUS crimes had been committed over the weekend, and Pickens had nothing on his plate except the Dinkens case’s resolution, he decided Monday morning that he and Marge would take Sarah to school together. Pickens pulled up to the drop-off area at Sarah’s school. When Sarah saw her friend, Annie, she bolted from the vehicle, turned, and quickly waved to her parents. “That wasn’t much of a goodbye,” said Pickens. “What happened to ‘Bye, Momma’ and kisses?” Marge rolled her eyes. “Get used to it, JD. Pretty soon she’ll be in high school, and you know what that means.” “Don’t tell me that. I’m not ready for boys.” Pickens flashed the badge on his belt. “I’ll flash this at any boy who tries to date my little girl.” “No you won’t. If you do, I’ll hurt you.” She elbowed him. “Let’s go.” Pickens flinched. Then, after a few honking horns, he pulled out of the drop-off lane and left for Marge’s office. He parked in Marge’s designated spot, leaned over, and kissed her. “I’ll pick up Sarah and Annie,” said Pickens. “Then we’ll drop Annie off before going home. Have a nice day, wide receiver.” Marge smiled. “You too, quarterback.” Pickens left the parking lot and headed for the sheriff’s office. Since it was a gorgeous day with clear skies and a comfortable temperature, his spirits were high, especially after dropping off his two best girls. Pickens decided he would treat his deputies to bagels and donuts from Lydia’s Bakery. When he entered the bakery, the doorbell jangled, and Lydia greeted him. “Good morning, Sheriff. A dozen bagels and a dozen donuts?”

Pickens grinned. “You know me too well, Lydia. Yes.” “I should. You’ve been ordering the same thing ever since you became sheriff. I’ll get them.” Lydia bagged a dozen bagels, boxed a dozen donuts, and handed both to Pickens. He knew what the bill was and gave her his credit card. After Lydia rang up the sale, she gave him back his credit card. “Thanks, Lydia.” “You’re welcome, Sheriff.” Pickens left the bakery and smiled when he heard the doorbell jangle. He entered the sheriff’s office, and Stacey buzzed him in. She turned off the security gate so he could through it without setting the alarm off. Pickens said hello to Stacey and offered a choice of bagel or donut. She chose a donut. Next, Pickens strolled into the bullpen. When Amy saw him carrying the bag of bagels and box of donuts, she tried to grab them, but Pickens stopped her and said, “Oh no. Boss first.” Amy snapped her fingers and said, “Shucks.” “I’ll put them in the break room. Then you can have all you want,” said Pickens and went into the breakroom, poured a cup of coffee, grabbed two donuts, and went to his office. “Amy, when are you gonna learn that he comes first?” said Billy. He stood and yelled, “Stacey, bagels, and donuts in the breakroom!” Stacey stood and waved her donut. “How come she got hers before us?” said Amy. “Because she’s prettier than us. That’s why.” “Speak for yourself. Let’s get some before the deputies arrive.” Pickens sat at his desk and was about to munch on a donut when his phone chirped. He pressed answer, but before he could speak, the caller said, “JD, it’s Marilyn. I know you’ve been trying to reach me. I’m sorry I never answered. I just needed some time.”

Pickens wanted to interrupt her and ask how she was doing, but the seriousness in her voice said not to, so he listened as Nudley continued. “I’m in my office today, and before you ask, I’m fine.” She answered the question he and others, he was sure, wanted to ask. “I talked with Ted Symington, Dinkens’s attorney. He asked if I’d consider releasing Dinkens to the custody of his mother.” “Whoa, Marilyn. I hope you said no because I’m against it.” “Of course, I said no. I got shot, but the bullet hit my briefcase, not my brain. Give me some credit for doing the right thing.” Under different circumstances, Pickens would have laughed, but it wasn’t the right time. He was grateful that Nudley was able to shrug off her shooting with lighthearted humor. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight. Of course, you’d do the right thing. So what did you tell Symington?” “I told him I’d see him in court, and he could plead the kid but not to expect a light sentence if he pleads for leniency. Dinkens could have killed Leroy. He’s lucky I’m not asking for an attempted murder charge. Are you okay with a plea deal if it comes to one?” “Depends on the sentence and, of course, what Leroy wants.” “Why? You think he’s going to want us to drop the charges?” “Maybe, but I hope not. If Leroy wants us to, can we ignore his request and charge the kid anyway?” “Of course, we can. Leroy will have his say, but we decide the kid’s punishment. The judge can reduce the sentence, but I’ll argue the kid doesn’t deserve to get away with attempted murder. Whatever you do, JD, don’t go all soft on me.” “I don’t intend to. With the Brantley brothers, you convinced me to go soft. But not this time. I want the kid to serve time, and not just a few months.” “I agree, and I won’t as I did the last time with the Brantley brothers. Trust me.”

“I do, Marilyn. What about Lydia DaMothe?” “She has a lawyer too. I’ll try to schedule both court appearances on the same day and let you know. “Thanks. You’re the best.” Pickens couldn’t see her smile. “Thanks, JD. I appreciate that,” she said and hung up. “You’re—” Pickens glanced at his phone and knew she had hung up. He was about to bite into a donut again when his phone chirped. “Mom, what’s up?” “JD, your dad had his tests, and we’re waiting for the results. Dr. Smathers is also waiting for the results. I’ll call you when we get them.” Pickens smiled a hopeful smile and said, “That’s great, Mom. I’ll be in my office.” After talking with his mother, Pickens finally got to eat a donut. He put his boots up on his desk, grabbed his cup of coffee, and bit into a donut. While waiting to hear from his mother, Pickens thought about the year so far. My father was attacked and ended up in a coma but was finally recovering. My father’s attacker was shot and killed by an FBI agent who thwarted a cemetery massacre. Pickens’s best friend, Leroy, was shot by a teenager and was in the hospital, and a young deputy put her life on the line to arrest Leroy’s shooter. A teenage girl almost killed a senior citizen and was in juvie awaiting a trial, as was Leroy’s shooter. Pickens shifted in his chair. Another teenager and his mother were somewhere safely away from his abusive father, who got shot by one of Pickens’s deputies. The man had attempted to kill Marylin Nudley but shot her briefcase. It was the worst two-month period of Pickens’s tenure as the sheriff. Pickens took another bite of his donut and a sip of coffee. I sure hope the rest of this year is nothing like the past couple of months. At least I can look forward to spring football and hopefully less drama.

As he rubbed the back of his head, Pickens’s phone chirped. He crossed his fingers when he saw it was his mother calling. “Hey, Mom. Good news, I hope.” Pickens couldn’t see the huge smile on his mother’s face. “Yes,” she said. “Dr. Smathers just left the room. Dad’s tests were good. He starts physical therapy Wednesday.” “That’s great. Do you know the therapist’s name?” “Only that it’s John.” “He’ll like John. He was my therapist. Dad will be in good hands. Do you need anything, Mom?” “Yes. Can you stop by the house and pack a bag for your dad? He has tros and shoes here, but he needs clean underwear, socks, and pajamas when the therapist gets him up and walking. I don’t want him walking the halls with his bottom exposed.” Pickens laughed. “I’ll stop by the house on my way home and bring the bag by in the morning. Does that work?” “Yes. He’ll be glad to see you. Have a nice day, JD.” “You too, Mom.” After he had hung up, Pickens sat up straight and enjoyed another donut. He checked his watch and saw it was almost lunchtime, so he stood and strolled into the bullpen. “Anything happening out there?” Amy shook her head. Billy did too and said, “All’s quiet here.” “I spoke with Nudley. She’s fine. She talked to Dinkens’s lawyer.” Pickens then told them about his conversation with Nudley regarding the two teenagers. “You think Leroy will want her to go soft on the kid?” asked Amy. Pickens shrugged. “Doesn’t make a difference. Nudley won’t go soft.” Pickens glanced at his watch. “It’s lunchtime. Who’s turn is it to buy?” Amy put her hands in her pockets. Billy turned and tapped on his keyboard.

Pickens rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m buying. But I’m not picking up and delivering. One of you do it.” “I’ll take a panini,” said Amy. “Same here,” said Billy. “Bread pudding for us ladies,” said Stacey. “Fine. Now who’s getting lunch?” said Pickens. “I’ll go,” said Amy. “How do I pay?” Pickens took out his wallet and checked his cash. “Here’s sixty. That should do it, and it leaves me with five.” Amy snatched the cash out of Pickens’s hand and left. She returned later with a bag from Lydia’s Bakery and gave everyone their lunch, including a panini for Pickens, who ed Amy and Billy in the bullpen. “JD,” said Amy, “how’s your dad?” Pickens smiled. “Great. He starts physical therapy Wednesday. If all goes well, he should be home in maybe two weeks.” “That’s good. I’ll bet your mom will be happy.” “So will I. Since nothing is happening, I’m going to leave early and stop at the gym for a workout. Then I’m going to my parents to get some things and go home. See you tomorrow.” “Have a good workout, and thanks for lunch,” said Amy. “You’re welcome, but next time one of you buys.” Pickens grinned and left.

CHAPTER 40

AFTER HIS WORKOUT at the gym, Pickens drove to his parents’ house and packed a shopping bag with the items his mother requested, then went to the hospital. He deliberately avoided Leroy’s room as he wanted to see his parents before any likelihood of a confrontation with Leroy. As Pickens was about to enter his father’s room, Dr. Smathers caught up with him. “JD,” she said, “I’m glad I caught you before you saw your dad. I wanted to discuss his test results with you.” Pickens smiled. “Mom called me and said they were good, and he’s starting PT on Wednesday. Is there something wrong?” “No, but I wanted to be sure you understand what he’ll be going through. The therapist will first determine his muscle ability by getting him to move his arms and legs. Once he determines your dad’s ability to move, your dad will get out of the bed and attempt to stand on his own. Next, if he’s able to, your dad will use the bathroom either by himself or with the therapist or your mom.” “I’m sure Dad will be thrilled to use the bathroom. How long before he can walk?” “It’s up to him and the therapist. But I expect within a few days.” “And go home?” Dr. Smathers put her hand on Pickens’s arm. “One day at a time, JD, but it won’t be long. He has a good therapist, as you well know.” “I do. Thanks, Elaine. I’ve got some clothes for him to wear when he is up and around. Mom doesn’t want him to walk the hall bare ass.” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Neither would I. Take care, JD.” “You too.” He watched her walk down the hall, then entered his father’s room.

When Russell saw Pickens, he smiled. “JD, what brings you here?” Pickens held up the bag. “Mom had me pack a bag of clothes for you. I hear you’re starting PT on Wednesday. You’ll need them.” “I am, but what kind of clothes?” “Russell,” said Jeanette, “if your therapist gets you out of bed, you’ll need more than that hospital gown, especially if he gets you walking in the hall.” “Right. Now I understand. Thanks, JD. Are you staying awhile? We don’t have coffee, but I have water in this here pitcher. You’re welcome to have some.” Pickens grinned. “Thanks, Dad. I’m fine. I can stay a little while. Then I have to visit Leroy. He and I have some things we need to talk about.” Pickens didn’t want to say what and possibly upset his parents as they had known Leroy since he and Pickens were in high school. “Nothing serious.” “How’s Leroy doing?” asked Jeanette. “He’s getting better every day, but his injuries were different from Dad’s. If you don’t mind, I’m going to stop by Leroy’s room and say hello.” Russell waved him off. “Go ahead, and say hello for us, JD.” “Will do.” Pickens kissed his mother, bumped fists with his father, and left. He approached Leroy’s room and took a moment to think about what he’d say but decided to get it over with and entered the room. “Hey, JD, good to see you. I’ve got great news. Dr. Smathers is discharging me Wednesday.” It wasn’t how Pickens expected the meeting to start, but it was better than having to confront Leroy. “That’s great, Leroy. I bet Liana’s not going to be happy having you around all day.” “Maybe, but she’ll be happy to have me at night.” Leroy winked. “Know what I mean?” “Yeah, but that also means you’ll have to do housework while Liana’s at work.”

Leroy waved him off. “Nah. My mother does the housework.” “But she won’t let you lie around all day. I bet she makes you help.” Pickens let out a deep breath. “Speaking of help, I need yours, Leroy. Marilyn Nudley is preparing to take Melvin Dinkens to court.” “Hey, I heard Marilyn got shot. Is she okay?” “Yeah. Fortunately, it was her briefcase that got shot, and Marilyn survived.” “Like when your phone saved you.” “Yeah. Leroy, we need to know if you’re going to go soft on the Dinkens kid because we’re not. He almost killed you and deserves punishment. Marilyn could have charged the kid with murder if you hadn’t survived. And I plan on seeing the kid spends a long time behind bars.” “You mean like in prison?” “Prison, jail, juvie, whichever, but he’s not getting away with community service, regardless of what you say. Am I clear?” “You’re serious, aren’t you?” “Absolutely. So am I clear?” “Can I think about it?” Pickens shook his head. “Are you serious? The kid almost killed you and left you for dead. I bet Liana wouldn’t like it if you excused the kid.” Pickens waved a hand. “Anyway, I said what I had to, and no matter what you decide, we’re going for jail time.” Pickens raised both hands. “There, I said what I had to say. Take care, Leroy.” Pickens turned and left the room. In the hall, he took several deep breaths, left the hospital, and went home. After parking his SUV in the driveway, Pickens entered the house and went straight to the kitchen looking for Marge. He found her at the stove, starting dinner. “Hey, wide receiver, what’s for dinner?”

Marge turned and said, “Hamburgers. Is that okay with you?” Pickens noticed her puffy eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She set aside the makings of dinner and went up against him. Pickens wrapped his arms around her. “I had a bad day. I had to do autopsies on an older man and a woman. I knew them both. You and I delivered Christmas presents to them last year. I’ve done a lot of autopsies but not many on people I know. Those two bothered me.” Pickens stroked her back. “Was it because they reminded you of my dad and Burgess’s father?” “Maybe. Thanks for caring about me with everything you’re dealing with at the office. “Hey, it’s my pleasure. You know you always come first.” Marge put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Thank you. I may need some wild monkey sex tonight.” She smiled. “Can you handle that?” “Hmm. I think I can, but I hope I can wait.” “You’ll have to because we can’t do it until Sarah is asleep.” She stepped back. “Okay, now I have to finish making dinner. How was your day?” Pickens smiled. “It was great. Dad starts PT Wednesday. I had to pack a bag of clothes for him. Mom doesn’t want him walking around bare ass. I talked with Leroy.” Pickens stopped short of explaining what he and Leroy had discussed. “He’s going home Wednesday. And Marilyn Nudley is back on the job. That’s enough about work. How about I take Sarah and Bailey for a walk before dinner?” “They’d both love a walk with Daddy. Go to it, quarterback,” Marge said with a wink. Pickens found Sarah and Bailey in the living room watching television and convinced them to go for a walk. Marge had dinner ready when they returned, and the Pickens family sat and enjoyed burgers and fries.

Later in their bedroom, after Sarah was asleep and the door closed, Marge disrobed. Pickens fidgeted as he watched. Knowing he enjoyed watching, Marge took her time removing her bra and panties. Pickens had seen his wife naked before, but for some reason, tonight was different. He couldn’t take his eyes off her nakedness and wanted her badly. Marge teased him as she took her time getting into bed and beside him. Pickens wrapped his arms around her and planted kisses on her mouth, slipping his tongue inside. Next, he cupped a breast then nibbled on it. His hand spread her legs, and he put two fingers inside her and toyed with her. Marge placed her hand behind his head and pulled his mouth to hers. Her body wriggled as his fingers played with her sex. “Oh God,” she moaned. “JD, I’m so ready.” “Not yet. I want you to wait until I’m ready.” He was ready but wanted to keep toying with her, so when he took her, she’d go wild. Pickens continued teasing her. Then she said, “Now, JD.” “Not yet.” Marge wriggled and waggled from the pleasure of his fingers. “Dammit, JD, now, please.” He removed his fingers, then straddled her. Marge felt his hardness as it gently entered her. Then she wrapped her legs around him, and he penetrated her, giving her all he had to offer until they both could give no more. Pickens rolled off her and lay beside her. “Catch your breath, wide receiver, because I’m not done with you.” Marge rolled over on top of him and said, “I’m not done with you.” She reached down and stroked him until he was hard, then slowly took him deep inside her. “Yes, yes,” she moaned. “More.” Pickens placed his hands on her hips and drove his hardness further inside her. When they both were spent, she got off him and lay beside him. “That was—” “Awesome,” he said. “Think we could do it again?”

“I’m game if you are.” Pickens mounted her, and they repeated their lovemaking. After he was sure he had satisfied her, Pickens lay beside her and asked, “Was that wild enough for you, wide receiver?” Marge exhaled. “Oh, yes, quarterback.” She turned on her side and kissed him. “Thank you. I really needed that.” Pickens kissed her. “I guess I really needed it too. Shower or lights out?” “You already knocked my lights out. I’ll shower in the morning.”

CHAPTER 41

WEDNESDAY, PICKENS MADE a trip to the hospital to see how his father’s first day of PT had gone. He stopped by Leroy’s room and saw it was empty, so he went to his dad’s room. His mother and father were in an animated conversation. He didn’t want to disturb them, so he watched from the doorway and thought about when he was a kid and his parents often did the same thing. Russell noticed Pickens and waved him into the room. “Hey, JD, don’t just stand there. Come in and say a proper hello.” Pickens smiled. “I didn’t want to disturb you and Mom, Dad. I just stopped by to see how your physical therapy session went.” It was great, and no more bandages.” When he first arrived, Pickens hadn’t noticed that Dr. Smathers had removed both his father’s arm and head bandages. “Now I can high-five you or bump fists. Get your butt over here.” “Russell, that’s not nice.” Jeanette giggled. “Yeah, get your butt in here, JD.” Pickens approached his father’s bedside, kissed his mother, and high-fived his father. “So, Dad, what did your therapist have you do?” “First he had me move my arms and legs. Oh man, my muscles were tight from lying in bed so long. Next he got me up and out of bed and had me do a little walking.” Russell tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom. “A little.” He pointed his thumb at the bathroom door. “I walked into the bathroom, and you know what I did?” Russell winked. “Russell, JD is a man. He knows you went to the bathroom and did your business.” “Yeah, that’s what I did. Now I don’t have to use the bedpan anymore.” Russell grinned. “And your mom’s going to help me put my pajama bottoms on so I can walk the hall when John lets me. Ain’t that great?”

“Isn’t that great, Russell. Use proper English.” “Right. Whatever you say, dear.” Pickens enjoyed his parents’ banter and was pleased the therapist would soon have his father walking around independently. “That’s great, Dad. I have to get back to the office. I’ll stop back Saturday with Marge and Sarah.” “Okay, but don’t forget. See you, son.” “See you, Dad. See you, Mom.” Pickens left the room before the tears he had held back started to flow. When Pickens had arrived at the hospital, the sun was shining, but now the sky was overcast, and he wondered if it was a harbinger of gloom. Once he was in his SUV, his phone chirped. The caller ID read Unknown Number. He considered ignoring the call but, out of curiosity, answered. “Sheriff Pickens.” A prolonged silence, then, “Sheriff Pickens. It’s Jeremy. Is my father really dead?” Pickens never thought he’d hear the boy’s name again, and yet here he was calling. “Yes, Jeremy, he is.” “Good. Now he can never hurt my mom again. Is Miss Nudley okay?” Pickens wondered how the kid knew about the shootings. “Yes, Jeremy, she is.” “Great. I’m sorry I called you, Sheriff. I know I wasn’t supposed to.” “That’s okay. How’s...Jeremy, how is your...Jeremy, are you there?” Pickens guessed the boy had hung up. “Shit.” Pickens immediately dialed Marilyn Nudley. “JD, what’s up?” Pickens exhaled. “I just got a call from Jeremy Arnott. Did he call you?” “No. How did Jeremy get your phone number?” “I don’t know, and I’m sure he used a burner phone.” Pickens then told Nudley

about the call. “How did he know about the shootings?” “Beats me. He could have read about them in a newspaper. Or—” “He’s in with someone here? Should we notify Leroy?” Pickens had to decide whether to notify Leroy and get the boy and his mother removed from protection or to forget the call had happened. “No. If he calls again or calls you, then we’ll decide. For now, forget I called you.” “Bye, Connie. We’ll have coffee one day.” Pickens was glad Nudley understood and had hung up.

* * *

Friday, Pickens received a call from Nudley. “JD, we have an appearance before Judge Blumgarten scheduled for Tuesday morning at ten o’clock. Can you be there?” “I’ll put it on my calendar and be there. What’s it about?” “DaMothe and Dinkens. Both attorneys will be there. DaMothe goes first. I’m sure the attorneys will argue for leniency because of their clients’ ages. They can argue all they want, but with the mountain of evidence I have and your testimony, they don’t stand a chance. Trust me, JD.” “I trust you, Marilyn, and we will prevail.” “You bet your ass we will. See you Tuesday.”

* * *

Saturday morning, Pickens, Marge, and Sarah headed for the hospital. After parking, Sarah jumped out of Pickens’s truck, but Marge got out in time to stop her from dashing across the parking lot to the entrance. “Sarah honey, that’s a no-no. You walk with us or Dad takes you home.” Sarah was disappointed and lowered her head. “Okay, but can’t you guys hurry? I want to see Gramma and Grandpa.” “We’ll get there. Grandma and Grandpa aren’t going anywhere. Now, hold my hand.” “No. I’m too old for that. I’ll walk by your side.” Marge rolled her eyes. Pickens grinned. “Okay, but don’t you dare step away from me.” The Pickens family crossed the parking lot together but not before Pickens looked both ways. He still checked for shooters lurking behind vehicles. Sarah went right to the elevator and waited for her parents before pressing the up button. When all three were in the elevator, she pushed two. As soon as the doors opened on the second floor, Sarah headed straight for her grandfather’s room and didn’t wait for her parents before entering. “Hi, Gramma. Hi, Grandpa. I’m here.” Jeanette beamed, as did Russell. “You come over and give your grandpa a hug and a kiss.” Sarah hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was okay to do so. “Go ahead, sweetheart. It’s okay,” said Jeanette. Sarah strolled up to the bedside and leaned over so Russell could wrap his arms around her and she could kiss him. “See?” said Russell. “No bandages. Ain’t that great?” “Isn’t, not ain’t, Grandpa.”

“Right.” Russell smiled when he saw Pickens and Marge. “JD, come hug me. Then it’s your turn, Marge.” Sarah stepped aside. Pickens stood at the bedside and bent over so his father could hug and kiss him. Next, he stepped aside so Marge could do the same. “I can’t believe it’s been such a long time since I could hug and kiss without bandages.” “Tell them what your therapist has you doing, Russell.” “I’m walking a bit in the hall. And—” “No, Russell. Don’t tell them that.” Russell grinned. “Right. Sarah, we going to read something together?” “You bet, Grandpa. What book?” Jeanette handed her the book she and Russell had started. “Am I old enough to read this, Gramma?” “Yes. Turn to the page with the bookmark and start there. While you and your grandfather are reading, I’m going to have coffee with your parents.” Jeanette walked over to Pickens and Marge, and they followed her into the hall, then to the cafeteria. After they got their coffees and sat at a table, Pickens said, “So Dad’s doing good with his PT, Mom?” “Yes, and the pajamas were a blessing.” Pickens smiled. “Now I’m not ashamed to let him walk the hall. John said he’ll take your dad to the physical therapy room Tuesday. It won’t be long before he can go home.” “That’s great, Mom. I bet you’ll be glad to sleep in your own bed.” “Absolutely.” They continued to talk for another twenty minutes, then went back to Russell’s room. Jeanette took her place beside her husband while Sarah sat on the bed. Dr. Smathers came up behind Pickens and Marge. “It looks like the Pickens family is having another one of their meetings.” “Yes,” said Pickens. Marge acknowledged Dr. Smathers with a head nod. “Mom

says that Dad is going to the physical therapy room next week and thinks he may go home soon. Is she right?” Dr. Smathers smiled. “Yes. He is doing great and getting stronger. I don’t see why he can’t go home once John says your father is strong enough and can get around on his own.” “Marge and I are grateful for what you’ve done for him. Thanks, Elaine.” Dr. Smathers smiled and left. “JD,” said Marge, “can we go to my parents’ house later? We could stay overnight and come home tomorrow. It’s been awhile since we saw them.” Marge expected he would want to discuss it, but instead he said, “Absolutely. You deserve a trip to your parents’ house. We’ll go home, pack, then take your car, but I’m driving.” Marge nestled against him. “Thanks, JD.” After an hour and a half of visiting with his parents, Pickens took his family home. Marge packed an overnight bag and put it in the trunk. Sarah and Bailey got in the backseat. Pickens and Marge donned sunglasses to shield their eyes from the bright sun. Then Pickens drove to Lake Grove to Marge’s parents’ house. Pickens answered questions from Marge’s mother about his father’s condition. He endured her questions about why his father was in the hospital in the first place because of Sarah. The family had dinner, spent the night, and then on Sunday after lunch, Pickens drove his family back home.

CHAPTER 42

TUESDAY, PICKENS WAS promptly at the courthouse before Nudley and waited on the courthouse steps, soaking up the sun and fresh air. “Sheriff Pickens,” said Nudley, “why are you standing out here?” Pickens looked up and spread his arms. “For this. Isn’t it wonderful? Good morning, Counselor.” He looked down at her right hand. “Did you get a new briefcase?” Nudley glanced at her briefcase. “It’s a gift from my parents. Let’s go inside. Judge Blumgarten is a stickler for promptness.” He followed Nudley into the courthouse. Pickens took off his belt and handed it to the security guard, then went through the gate. Nudley reached under her jacket, took out a small pistol, and set it on the conveyor along with her purse and briefcase, and went through the gate. “When did you get a weapon, Counselor?” asked Pickens. “I’ve had it for a long time but only recently started carrying it. And here’s my carry permit.” She reached into her jacket pocket, took out her permit, and flashed it at Pickens and the guard. “I guess you’ve had the permit a long time too, Counselor,” said Pickens. “You’re welcome to that I have, Sheriff.” Pickens waved her off. “Nope. I trust you.” “Good. Now, let’s go into the courtroom.” Nudley stopped. “And, Sheriff, you can sit at the prosecutor’s table with me.” Pickens wondered why she was being formal but decided to ignore it and do the same. “Thank you, Counselor.” Nudley nodded.

Pickens and Nudley took their seats at the prosecutor’s table. DaMothe’s attorney and her mother entered. Lydia was escorted in and sat with her attorney. Her mother sat in the row behind them. Everyone stood when Judge Blumgarten entered. He told them to be seated. “We’ll dispense with the usual proceedings since there is no jury. Miss Nudley, I read your brief. It’s comprehensive. Does defense counsel have anything to add?” “Yes, Your Honor. My client doesn’t dispute the evidence, but we ask that you consider her age.” Nudley stood. “Your Honor, the defendant’s age doesn’t matter. She viciously attacked an elder adult and is lucky he didn’t die. But he did end up in the hospital. Had the victim died this would be a murder case...and would leave the victim’s wife to spend the rest of her life without her loving husband. I ask that you ignore her age.” “Miss Nudley is right, Counselor. Although her age deserves consideration, it doesn’t excuse her crime. Will the defendant please rise?” Lydia stood. “Young lady, are you aware of what you did?” “Yes, Your Honor,” she murmured. “Young lady. I can’t hear you. And look at me.” Lydia raised her head and her voice. “Yes, Your Honor.” “Can you tell me why you committed the crime?” “I...I didn’t mean to hurt the man. It was supposed to be a prank.” “A prank? In all my years on the bench, I’ve never had anyone call a vicious attack a prank.” The judge exhaled. “I hope you learn a lesson today, young lady, because you’ll have time to think about it. As a result of your actions, you’ll spend the rest of your teenage years in a juvenile facility. You’re lucky you’re not going to prison.” Lydia’s mother screamed, “No!”

The judge banged his gavel and said, “Next case.” Lydia was escorted out and taken back to juvie. Her attorney and her mother left but not before Ms. DaMothe glared at Nudley. Next to enter was Melvin Dinkens’s attorney. Then Melvin was escorted in and sat with his attorney. “Miss Nudley, I read your brief. It’s very compelling.” “Thank you, Your Honor.” “I object,” said Dinkens’s attorney. “Sit down, Counselor. There is nothing to object to.” “But, Your Honor—” “Sit, Counselor. Don’t try my patience. You’ll get your chance. I was about to add—” The judge was interrupted when the door to the courtroom opened, and in walked Leroy Jones. He went over to the defense side and sat behind Melvin Dinkens. The judge scowled at the interruption then continued. “I was about to add—” Again, the judge was interrupted. This time, Liana, Leroy’s wife, entered and took a seat behind Pickens, who gently elbowed Nudley. Nudley turned and whispered, “Not now, Sheriff.” Pickens tilted his head toward Liana, then at Leroy. “Oh. Now I understand.” “Is there something I should hear, Miss Nudley?” said the judge. Nudley stood. “Yes, Your Honor. Sidebar, please?” Judge Blumgarten crossed his arms. “Approach.” Both attorneys approached the bench. Then Nudley said, “Your Honor, the people who entered the courtroom are—”

“I know who they are, Miss Nudley. I’ve eaten in their restaurant. What’s the problem?” “Your Honor, if defense counsel intends to have Mr. Jones speak on behalf of his client, then I’m sure Mrs. Jones will oppose his comments because Mr. Jones is the victim. And as his wife, that would lead to—” “The end of marital bliss and uproar in my courtroom.” Nudley nodded. “I won’t have that in my courtroom.” The judge addressed defense counsel. “Mr. Symington, do you have a suggestion?” Symington played with his necktie. “Uh...Actually, Your Honor...this is my first case...and I’m not prepared to offer a suggestion.” The judge shook his head. “Your Honor,” said Nudley, “may I?” “Go ahead, Miss Nudley.” “We can save everyone’s time if defense counsel will accept my brief and have his client it to his crime. He approached the victim from behind, shot him in the back, and left him on the ground, bleeding. Had the victim died, this would be a murder case, and Mrs. Jones and her children would be alone without their loved one.” “So what are you suggesting?” asked the judge “I talked with Sheriff Pickens, and he agreed to a minimum of three years at a juvenile facility...or longer if the court so decides. But the defendant must explain why he shot Mr. Jones.” “Any objection, Mr. Symington?” Nudley stared at Symington and shook her head just a little so he would understand not to object. “No, Your Honor.” “Good. Now, talk to your client. Both of you, go.” Symington whispered into Melvin’s ear, and the kid shook his head. Both the

attorney and Dinkens stood. “Your Honor, my client is willing to accept whatever sentence you impose on him.” “Very well. Young man, do you understand the horrible act you committed? Young man, did you hear me?” Dinkens raised his head. “Yes, Your Honor, I do.” “Please help me understand why you shot Mr. Jones.” “I didn’t mean to shoot Mr. Jones, Your Honor. I just wanted his money, but I panicked, and the gun went off. It was a mistake.” “Some mistake. For your so-called mistake, you’ll spend the remainder of your teenage years in a juvenile facility. Hopefully, you’ll learn that mistakes have consequences.” The judge pointed at Dinkens with his gavel. “Trust me, one mistake, and I’ll have you transferred to an adult facility.” The judge banged his gavel. “Court’s dismissed.” Everyone stood as the judge left the room. Dinkens was escorted out and taken back to juvie. Liana glared at Leroy and left. Dinkens’s attorney left, then Leroy approached Pickens. “You made the wrong decision, pal,” said Pickens. “Yeah. Liana’s really pissed. It’s gonna take a while for her to simmer down. You did the best you could, Marilyn, just like you always did in high school.” “You didn’t do so good today, Leroy, but we’re still friends, just like in high school.” “I’ll call you, JD. Maybe we can go fishing.” “I’d like that, old buddy.” After Leroy left, Pickens said, “I guess I should thank you for whatever you did to prevent Leroy and Liana from getting into fisticuffs.” “Not necessary. I was doing my job, Sheriff.” “Come on, Marilyn, drop the formality. What did I do to deserve it?”

Nudley pursed her lips. “Nothing. It’s just...the shooting had a dramatic effect on me. The hearings gotten me over it. I’m fine now, JD. Forgive me?” “Of course. You were just feeling anguished...like I have since my dad was attacked.” He spread his arms. “Forgive hug?” She didn’t answer but just let him wrap his arms around her. “Lunch on me?” “Yes, but not at Leroy’s restaurant.” “How about hot dogs at a food truck?” Nudley narrowed her eyes. “Just kidding.” “Lydia’s Bakery. She has great paninis.” “What’s with everyone wanting Lydia’s paninis?” “Once you’ve had one, you’ll understand. Let’s get going before I change my mind.” When they stepped out of the courthouse, Jimmy Noseby, the reporter, ambushed them. “Care to comment on whatever happened in court, Sheriff?” “Justice happened.” Noseby shook his head. “How about you, Miss Nudley? Was there anything about Leroy Jones’s shooting and what happened at the convenience store on Prentiss Avenue?” “No comment.” “Come on, guys, give me something.” “Okay,” said Pickens. He spread his arms and lifted his head. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” “Thanks a lot.” Dejected, the reporter slumped his head and walked away. “Really? It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, JD? That’s the best you could come up with?” “Hey, I gave him something, didn’t I?” Nudley rolled her eyes.

Later that night after dinner, Pickens told Marge about the court cases and lunch with Nudley. And, yes, the hug. “Is Marilyn getting counseling?” “Yes. During lunch, Marilyn said Connie Dupree suggested it, and Marilyn eventually agreed.” “Don’t forget you have an appointment with Dr. Weinstein in the morning.” “I won’t. I have a lot to tell her. I also have a lot to tell you later.” Pickens winked. “Can’t wait to hear it.” She winked back. Pickens and his family visited the hospital on Saturday to check on his father’s progress. Dr. Smathers met them and told Pickens that his father was improving each day. If it continued, his father could go home in less than two weeks. Two weeks later, Pickens was at the hospital to take his father home. “Ready to go, Dad?” When Russell saw the orderly with a wheelchair, he looked confused. “What’s that for?” “It’s required, Russell,” said Jeanette. “You can’t leave the hospital if you’re not in it.” Russell rolled his eyes. “Oh, for goodness sakes. Can’t I walk out on my own?” “No, Dad, you can’t. Don’t be ornery and get in the chair. If it makes you happy, I’ll wheel you out.” Russell relented and let Pickens push the wheelchair. When they ed by the nurses’ station, the nurses and Dr. Smathers applauded, and Russell waved. “I could have walked across the parking lot, JD. You didn’t have to do valet parking.” Pickens had parked at the curb to make it easier for his father. “I didn’t. As the

sheriff, I have privileges. Besides, I did it for mom.” “Just get in the car, Russell, and stop being difficult.” “Me difficult?” said Russell. “Yes, you,” said Pickens and his mother. Russell got in the car, and Pickens drove his parents home and stayed for coffee. After visiting, Pickens went to the sheriff’s office.

CHAPTER 43

OVER THREE MONTHS had ed since Russell first sustained his injuries. He had regained ninety-five percent of his memory and would recover the remainder over time. Russell had to promise Dr. Smathers that he would rest while at home and refrain from any stressful activity, except for walking, for at least three months. As a treat for her husband, Jeanette cooked a special Sunday dinner. She invited Pickens and his family and Amy and Billy because they had played an active role in catching the man who’d put her husband in a coma. Marge offered to cook, but Jeanette insisted she’d do the cooking but Marge could help. Sarah was entertaining Russell in the living room as he sat in his favorite chair trying to watch the Masters Tournament. Billy teased Bailey with his chew toy as Amy watched with amusement. Pickens was enjoying the action when his phone chirped. “Excuse me,” Pickens said. “I have to take this.” He stepped away and pressed answer. “Burgess, what’s up?” “Pickens, do you read the Tampa or Orlando newspaper?” “No. I don’t read any newspapers, and I’m not sure we get those papers in the county. Why?” “You may want to read yesterday’s paper. You can get it online.” Pickens raised his eyebrows as he was curious. “There’s an article you’ll find interesting. Check it out.” After Burgess ended the call, Pickens said to Billy, “Do you have your laptop with you?” “It’s in my car. Why?” “Get it. I want you to look up something for me, and I don’t want to use Marge’s computer.”

Hearing the conversation, Amy ed them and asked, “Something up, JD?” “Burgess called. He wants me to check out an article in the Tampa or Orlando newspaper.” Billy returned with his laptop and said, “What am I looking for?” “See if you can get the online version of yesterday’s Tampa or Orlando newspaper.” “Anything in particular I’m looking for?” “I have no idea. Burgess said there’s an article I might be interested in reading.” Billy pulled up the online version of the Tampa Bay Times and scrolled through it. “I don’t see anything you’d be interested in, Sheriff.” “Stop,” said Pickens. “Go back a little.” Billy slowly scrolled back until Pickens said, “There. Blow it up.” Billy zoomed in, and they read the gist of the article. “The FBI’s leading suspect in a sex and drug trafficking gang and murder for hire was viciously attacked in prison while awaiting his trial. He suffered multiple stab wounds and bled out before emergency personnel could get to him. With his death and the arrest of many of the gang’s lieutenants, the FBI has destroyed a major criminal gang. In a related case, six of the same gang were indicted for the attempted murder of an FBI agent and his mother.” “You think Burgess got revenge for his father’s killing?” asked Amy. “Maybe, and my dad’s coma,” said Pickens. No one claimed the body of Frank Arnott, the man who had attempted to assassinate Nudley. The ME’s office sought court approval to have his body cremated and his ashes buried in a pauper’s grave. Jeremy didn’t call again, and he and his mother have remained in hiding.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THE EVENTS THAT occurred in this book weren’t part of any actual criminal cases. They were derived from my imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. I’m grateful to the of law enforcement who provided assistance and wished to remain anonymous. I thank them for their service and dedication to the public. I’m incredibly thankful for my editors who helped make this book better and to Elizabeth Babski for her cover design. As always, Elizabeth knows what I want before I do. And thanks to the internet, which made my research more effortless and safer. And to my loyal readers, thank you for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed it and will recommend it to family and friends. If you feel like it, I’d appreciate a review on Amazon. For more about my books and me, visit my website www.georgeencizo.com.