Thirty-six
Sheila Davies had failed to show up for her scheduled
shift. By noon of the following day, she had called the substation with a
curt apology, just in time for Gene Packerson to feel a moment's relief
before the reports of one and then two missing deputies reached him. The
day's surveillance blind relief crew found Ben's car parked below the
Ridge. Jim Langton's car was found abandoned in Eagle Junction.
Gene went alone to the Ridge. Climbing the porch
steps to John Hartman's house, he unholstered his handgun and tapped on
the door with the butt of his revolver.
"It's open, Gene."
Gene pushed the door open. John Hartman sat in a
recliner centered in the living room with both hands placed on the
armrests. He rocked gently, his head laid back, dark eyes focused with a
strange intensity.
Gene brought the revolver to bear on John Hartman,
the tension on the trigger far greater than he had intended. "Ben and Jim
are both missing," he said. "Where are they, John?"
John ignored the question and the gun. "Do you
remember a man named Jake Matthews?"
"I asked you a question. Answer it."
"Jake assaulted the woman he was living with. He
crippled her. We had reason to believe he was hiding out in Sunset Grotto
State Park. Ben and Jim went after him. That was what, two or three
years ago?"
"Just make your point."
"Jake was never found. If the case is still open,
you'll find his body buried just behind the rock they call the Sentinel on
the south leg of the hiking trail. The grave is washing out. It won't be
hard to find."
Gene lowered the revolver. "What has that to do with
the disappearance of my deputies?"
"Jim Langton killed Jake. Ben covered for him. They
knew you didn't have enough evidence to convict him. They weren't about
to let him walk."
"How did you find out about that?"
"You've always suspected."
Gene pursed his lips. He had no way to defend
himself against the truth.
"You've had some new blood apply to the department in
recent weeks," John said. "You've been wishing there was room for them.
They're smart, young professionals. When you retire, you've been thinking
that you can't in good conscience leave the county to Langton's vigilante
mentality. You were hoping I'd be around to take over, but we both
know that's not going to happen now. It leaves you in a pickle, as
your wife would have put it."
Gene gazed at the dark figure rocking so peacefully
and wondered if Ben and Jim hadn't seen the employment application forms
on file. Maybe, but how had John known?
Still, it wasn’t relevant. It seemed more likely
there had been a confrontation. John had killed them both, and he had
killed them over matters far less trivial than Gene's personal hopes and
wishes.
"Ben and Jim have always been close friends," John
said. "Langton has always played by his own rules and Ben never had the
courage to defy him. They've both been on the take. They've run errands
for Orville Kahl and helped shake down the opposition to the factory being
built in the valley. They've committed too many errors of judgment,
Gene. We’ve got outsiders prying into our affairs. They would have been
nailed to a wall and you would have gone down with them."
"Are they dead, John?"
"They're gone. They won't be back."
"You know I can't accept that answer. This can't
continue."
"It's already ended."
"You know that for a fact?"
"It's intended as assurance, not as a confession,”
John said. “I had nothing to do with anyone's disappearance. I’ve harmed
no one. I had nothing to do with Jim and Ben’s disappearance."
Gene thought about it, but shook his head. "It won't
do. You still know more than you've told me. You've forced me to call in
outside help to resolve this mess. I can't hide the fact that you stand
in the middle. This is going to end my career on a bad note regardless of
how it goes down.”
"It's not going to go down the way you think. Ride
it out."
Gene absently holstered his revolver. "So, that's
it? You're telling me that it's over?"
"Soon. We still have
Kahl to deal with. And then it'll be as over as it's ever going to
be. There'll be unanswered questions. Nobody's going be to be
able to do anything about those.”
"I don't lightly point a gun at a man's head, John.
I'd use it if I thought I could save the life of an innocent victim of
this nightmare, even as a vigilante. If Jake had been Jim’s only crime, I
would have let it slide."
“I can accept that without
reservation."
“So, what happens now?”
"Most of what remains are consequences of events that
happened long before I met Marlene. You can’t help with those.”
"Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. You just sit
right where you’re at and stay out of trouble. This is where I want to
find you if I have to come looking for you again."
Gene backed from the house having resolved nothing,
but willing in his abject state of helplessness to see if John spoke the
truth, if Jake’s body was indeed waiting for him in a washed out grave in
Sunset Grotto State Park.
Young David Hartman came rushing up the sidewalk, his
attention focused on the point of a long green stick skipping across the
pavement ahead of him. When the ten-year-old discovered his way blocked,
he looked up with his big brown eyes growing wide with astonishment.
"Oh, hi, Gene!" David tossed the stick aside.
"You're not going to arrest me, are you?"
"Arrest you, David? I've never had cause to arrest a
ten-year-old before. What have you done to qualify, may I ask?"
"I beat up Tony and Steve this morning. They were
throwing rocks at my Mom's house."
The disclosure startled him. "That really was you?
I thought someone was pulling my leg."
David held up a fist with scuffed and reddened
knuckles. "See? I poked Tony a good one and pushed them both down. Did
you scold my dad?"
Gene was at a loss for words. "I'm surprised,
David. It's not like you."
"I'm not going to get busted?"
The boy's naiveté warmed some of the morning's
chill. "As long as it doesn't happen again anytime too soon."
"I don't think I could do it again! Mom tricked me!
I thought she was making them see things!"
Gene’s breath caught in his throat. David turned
ashen and opened his mouth to explain. Realizing the futility of an
explanation, he stood waiting fearfully for Gene's reaction.
Gene didn't know what to make of it. Not any of it.
He returned to his car and sat behind the wheel for a time. In the end, he decided to ignore events beyond his
control, attend to those that weren't, and pray that he could tell the
difference between the two. He started the car, turned it around, and
started back down to the highway to pay a long overdue visit to the
Sentinel.
