Читать книгу What We Remember - Michael Thomas Ford - Страница 19

1991

James pulled his car into the station parking lot and parked in a space at the far end. It was a habit from when his father had been sheriff; you left the spaces nearest the door for the officers. It surprised him that all these years later he still instinctively followed that unwritten rule.

The station itself had changed little. The cinderblock walls had been painted a light blue instead of the gray that James remembered, but otherwise it looked the same. He pushed open the front door and went inside. Again, it looked much as it had in his father’s day. A few new pictures had been added to the Wall of Honor, but the counter in the reception area was still worn yellow and the air smelled like a combination of lemon polish and leather. Or something like that. James had never been able to accurately describe the odor, but the moment it hit his nose he remembered it clearly.

He started to walk down the hall to where he knew Nate’s office was, but he was stopped by a young woman wearing a brown uniform. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You can’t go back there.”

“It’s okay, Gwen.” Nate emerged from his office and waved James toward him. “Come in,” he said.

As James had expected, the office was the one his father had occupied. It still held the same desk, and the same battered file cabinet stood in the corner beneath the window, with what very well could have been the same dead plant in a pot sitting on it. Nate took a seat behind the desk.

“This is weird,” James said.

“What?” Nate asked. Then he nodded. “I forgot. You haven’t been here since your dad died.”

“No,” said James. “I think Celeste was the one who cleaned out his stuff. Mom couldn’t do it, and Billy and I didn’t want to. We were kind of assholes about the whole thing.”

“It was hard for everyone,” Nate said.

“And now here you are,” said James. “Who would have thought?”

Nate grinned. “Not me,” he said. “I was all set to get the hell out of this shithole once I graduated. I had big plans. I was going to go to California and be a rock star.”

“So what happened?” James asked him. “Why’d you stay?”

“Well, your sister for one thing,” said Nate. “Other than that, I really can’t say.”

“I guess some places you just can’t get away from,” James remarked.

“You did, though,” said Nate.

James nodded. “So far,” he agreed. “But here it is, sucking me back in.”

“Sounds like you’re doing pretty well for yourself,” said Nate. “Celeste says you’re working for a senator now.”

“Just a state one,” James replied. “It’s not Washington, DC, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

“All that stuff is too complicated for a boy like me,” said Nate. “I leave that to you college guys.”

James didn’t respond. He had the feeling that Nate was mocking him, but he didn’t take the bait. For one thing, he’d promised Celeste that he wouldn’t. For another, it wouldn’t do him any good. He needed Nate.

“So what’s happening with Dad?” he asked. “Anything to go on?”

Nate shook his head. “Nothing firm yet,” he said. “But we’re working on it.”

“What are your thoughts about it?” James said, hoping to draw Nate into conversation.

“Don’t really have any as of yet,” his brother-in-law replied. “I was hoping you might have some.”

“Me?” James said. “No, I don’t. I mean I assume you’ve already run a list of the people Dad helped put away. But that’s got to be a couple hundred. I guess then you’d try to narrow it down by cross-referencing it with the threat file. I assume they still have that?”

Nate nodded. “It’s still around,” he said.

“Anything helpful in it?” asked James.

“Just the usual ‘you’d better watch your ass’ letters,” Nate answered. “We don’t get as many now that every scumbag on the planet has access to e-mail. But at least we can trace those more easily. Most of them have AOL addresses. I don’t know why.”

“Did any of the letters you do have give you anything?” said James.

“There were three that I pulled,” Nate told him. “Two were written by guys who were already back in prison at the time Dan disappeared. The third one wasn’t signed, so we don’t know who wrote it. So I guess that would be another big no.”

James leaned back in his chair. “That’s not much to go on,” he remarked.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Nate said.

James looked at him. “I’m not slamming you or your people,” he said. “I’m just saying it’s frustrating.”

Nate said nothing. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the desktop for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Finally he said, “Have you heard anything from Nancy?”

James, shocked, said, “Nancy? No. Not for years. I didn’t think anyone had.”

“We haven’t,” said Nate. “I just thought maybe she would have contacted you.”

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” James said. “I mean, you’re her brother. If she was going to contact anyone, I would think it would be you.”

“Half brother,” Nate reminded him.

“She hasn’t even contacted her father?” James asked.

“Not that I know of,” said Nate. “But she always was a weird one.”

James bristled at the comment. He wanted to contradict Nate and say that Nancy had been anything but weird. But Nate was sort of right. Nancy had begun to act strangely. Right around the time she broke up with me for good, he thought. It was something he had never understood, then or now. Apparently, Nate wasn’t able to tell him anything he didn’t already know.

“So what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m working on a few things,” said Nate. “Right now I’d like to keep them to myself, if you don’t mind. It’s nothing personal—I just don’t want anything to get out that might jeopardize the investigation.”

“Who would I tell?” James asked, incredulous. He couldn’t believe his brother-in-law would think he might reveal information to anyone.

“I’m not saying you would,” said Nate. “At least not on purpose. But you know how it is—someone accidentally mentions something to someone, who mentions it to someone else. It’s best just not to say anything for now.”

“Jesus Christ,” James muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m just doing my job,” said Nate. “Your dad would have done it the same way.”

No, James thought. My father would have had answers by now.

He told himself to calm down. There was nothing to gain by getting into something with Nate. It would just upset Celeste and make it more difficult to get information when Nate did have something. Still, he was reminded why the two of them had never gotten along particularly well. Nate had been stubborn back in high school. He simply hadn’t changed. Not that you have either, he reminded himself.

“Okay,” he said, standing up. “Well, let me know what I can do to help. I’ll be at the house.”

Nate stood as well. “Will do,” he said. “Thanks for coming in.”

James left the office. Nate didn’t follow. As he was walking down the corridor, James heard someone call his name. He turned to see a tall, rather heavy, balding man walking toward him.

“Frank!” he said, delighted to see the deputy.

Frank reached him and, without hesitating, gave James a bear hug. Laughing, James clapped Frank on the back. “It’s good to see you,” he said as Frank released him.

“You too,” said Frank. Then he looked solemn. “I’m really sorry about your dad,” he said.

“Me too,” said James. Frank Despirito had been his father’s right-hand man when he was sheriff. James had always liked him. “So,” he said, unable to resist. “How do you like the new boss?”

Frank grinned. “He’s not your dad,” he said.

James suppressed a laugh. Then a thought came to him. “Hey, you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Frank nodded. “Do cops like donuts?” he responded. It was a line Dan McCloud had coined to express agreement, and hearing it again made James feel at home in the station for the first time since he’d walked through the doors.

The two men left the building and walked the two blocks to the Over Easy, a diner popular with the town’s heavily blue-collar population. At a little after nine in the morning it was fairly empty, the regular customers having long since left to begin work. James and Frank settled into a booth near the front window.

“Morning, boys,” said the waitress.

“June,” James said. “You’re still here?”

“Where the hell else have I got to go?” the woman replied. Easily 70, she had gray hair cut short, and her blue eyes sparkled. Her mouth moved from side to side as she chewed on some gum, and the lipstick she wore was a garish shade of pink. “How are you, sweetie? It’s been a few years.”

“It has,” James agreed. He was amazed that June still looked the same as she had when he was a kid. She seemed never to age. His father had always joked that it was because inhaling all the grease from the kitchen had preserved her, like a mummy.

“Sorry about your dad,” June said, putting her hand on James’s shoulder. “He was a good guy.”

“How’d you hear about—” Frank started to ask.

“People talk,” June said, cutting him off as if she’d expected the question. “I hear things. What’ll you fellows have?”

“Just coffee,” James said.

“Two,” said Frank.

June left to get their coffees. Frank looked at James and shook his head. “Small town,” he said.

“Well, we knew word would get around,” said James. “I’m sure everyone working at Nicky’s cabin went right home and told their wives.”

June returned, carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee. Under her arm she had a folded-up newspaper. She set the mugs down and handed James the paper as she poured the coffee. “Front page,” she said.

James opened the paper and took in the headline: BODY OF LOCAL SHERIFF FOUND 8 YEARS AFTER ALLEGED SUICIDE. He scanned the article beneath it, then looked up at Frank, who was watching him. “‘The body of former Cold Falls sheriff Daniel McCloud was found earlier this week at the site of a construction project near Pollard Lake. McCloud disappeared in 1983, and a letter received by his wife, Ada McCloud, suggested that he had committed suicide following a diagnosis of terminal cancer. With the discovery of his body, which was reportedly found inside a locked trunk buried at the site, the disappearance has been reclassified as a murder by current town sheriff Nate Derry, who happens to be McCloud’s son-in-law.’”

James put the paper down. “So much for keeping it quiet,” he said. “How come he didn’t tell us this was going to hit the paper?”

Frank raised one eyebrow. “He doesn’t tell us much,” he said. “He likes to be the one in charge.”

“I noticed,” James said.

“How’s Ada handling it?” asked Frank.

“Pretty well, considering,” James answered. “She was kind of a mess at first. Didn’t want to believe it was him. I can’t blame her. We all thought this was behind us.”

Frank set his mug down. “You know, I never believed that he killed himself,” he said.

“Why?” James asked him.

“I don’t really know,” Frank answered. “Just a feeling.” He laughed. “I always hated it when Dan said shit like that. But it always turned out he was right.”

“Who do you think did it?” said James, asking the question that had been on his mind since he’d invited Frank to have coffee with him.

“Hell if I know,” the deputy said. “We dealt with so many creeps over the years, it could have been any of them.” He looked up at James. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t mean it to sound like this is some John Doe we’re talking about.”

“It’s all right,” James said. “I know.” He looked out the window as he drank his coffee. As he watched the sidewalk, Nate came around the corner, walking briskly toward the diner.

“Here comes the boss,” James informed Frank, who followed his gaze and groaned.

“I guess I should be going,” he said, standing up. “It’s good to see you, Jimmy. Give my best to your mom.”

“I will,” James told him. “Thanks, Frank.”

He watched Frank leave the diner. Outside, Frank waved to Nate, who stopped to talk to him. He seemed to be excited about something, and moved his hands around as he spoke. James saw Frank glance quickly toward the window, then look away.

What’s that about? he wondered. He was tempted to go and ask, but something in Frank’s expression seemed to warn him not to. Had Nate learned something new? If so, why didn’t he come in and tell James what it was? His reluctance to include James in the investigation was irritating, but there was nothing James could do about it.

When he looked out the window again, Frank and Nate were gone. They’d left in a hurry, so whatever Nate had wanted to tell Frank must have been important. James was tempted to stop in at the station again when he went for his car. But he knew that was a bad idea. I’ll find out soon enough anyway, he thought as he drained his cup.