And There He Kept Her (Ben Packard #1)(37)

He let her go with a warning. “Let’s get one thing clear. You don’t ever want to get caught in this town with prescription drugs on your person or in your car that you don’t have a script for. I will make things extra hard on you because you’ve had this warning. Do you understand me?”

For a second, Virginia sat petrified, looking like she might start crying again. “Get out of here,” he said before she broke down again. She grabbed her books and practically ran out of the room.

After Virginia left, Principal Overby came back to the conference room and made a show of adjusting the scarf draped around her shoulders and straightening the bracelets bangled up her wrist. She was unhappy, but Packard didn’t care. He had what he’d come for. Chances were very good that the unidentified cell number that texted Jesse the night before he disappeared belonged to Sam Gherlick.

“I’m going to throw a first name out to you that belongs to a known associate of Jesse, probably taught him everything he knows about selling drugs, might even be supplying him. Your job is to throw out the last name. First thing that comes to mind. Ready?”

Overby nodded and twiddled the pen in her hand.

“Sam,” Packard said.

“Gherlick?” Overby asked, then immediately put a hand over her mouth, trying too late to stop what had already been said.

“That’s it.”

“My God.” Overby craned her neck so she was staring at the ceiling. “I know it came right out, but I don’t want to believe it.”

“Why not? You said it. You must have had some suspicion.”

“He graduated last year near the top of his class. He was such a good student, but there was something about his smile and his earnestness that always made me think of a politician or an insurance salesman. Sincere but phony at the same time, you know?”

“I don’t know him that well,” Packard admitted. “I’ve been to a couple of family functions with the sheriff where his kids and grandkids have been present. Fourth of July picnic, his birthday, stuff like that. I talked to Sam about his car once. He’s got a ’65 Mustang that he’s restoring himself. I remember him saying that’s what he wanted to do—fix up and restore old cars.”

Overby nodded knowingly. “He graduated last year. He had acceptances from several schools, a few scholarships, too, if I remember correctly. I seem to recall there being some drama over his desire to take a year off. His parents were up here to talk to Mr. Wilson, our guidance counselor. I think they calmed down after he helped Sam get things deferred for a year.”

“So he was dealing to the high school kids for two, three years, and put Jesse in his place after he graduated.”

“I’m so disappointed,” Overby said. “Even the good ones are up to something. You can’t turn your back on these kids for a minute.”

Packard stood and pushed in his chair. “You’re a high school principal. I imagine you figured that out years ago.”

***

Back in the parking lot he called the sheriff’s wife. “Marilyn, it’s Ben. I’m wondering if I can come by and talk to the old man.”

“Oh, Ben. I know he’d love to see you again, but he’s wiped out from the chemo. He’s been nauseous and asleep all day. He usually rebounds on the third day. Call again tomorrow and make sure.”

Packard thanked her and hung up. If drugs connected Sam to Jesse, then Packard had to follow the lead, but he wanted the sheriff to hear about it from him first. It wasn’t true that Packard was without loyalties or debts, as Stan Shaw had told the county board when nominating Packard for the job of acting sheriff. Packard was indebted to Stan for hiring him when he needed a job and for trusting him with the responsibility of the county’s top law-enforcement job. The least he could do was give Stan a warning about where things were heading. How he would react was the question. All bets were off when family was involved. The worst thing that could happen was he and Stan ending up on opposite sides of the investigation, both dug in on behalf of family.

He got a call from Kelly before he could decide what to do next.

“We’ve got an all-hands situation,” she said. “There’s an overturned logging truck on the ramp from Highway 8 onto Highway 2 westbound. It tipped over onto a car. There’s at least one person inside the car who isn’t responding. The truck driver is injured and can’t be moved. It sounds really bad.”

“Who’s on the scene?”

“No one yet. Everyone’s in route. All the info so far is what came from a motorist who called 911.”

Packard rubbed a hand across his face. This was the last thing he needed right now. Sam Gherlick was the priority, but a priority was only a priority until something bigger came along to knock it down.

“I’m on my way. Get the emergency management team on standby. Sounds like we might have a major mess on our hands.”





Chapter Twelve


The girl was singing.

Emmett sat in his rocker and tried to remember the last time there was music in his house that wasn’t the theme song to a television show or the background to a dirty movie. The closest thing was probably Myra humming like a belt sander.

The door to the pink room was open and so was the basement door. Fresh air warmed by the afternoon sun lingered at the threshold. Emmett lit a cigarette and cracked a beer and listened to the girl sing. She had a nice voice. She’d been singing since earlier that morning when he brought her breakfast. Thinking of songs and trying to remember the words helped distract her from the pain, she’d said.