Bull Mountain(70)

“What is it, Cricket?”

“Is Choctaw caught up in this mess?”

“What mess? This?” Clayton held up the file.

“Yes, sir.”

Clayton was confused. “Why would he be?”

Now Cricket looked a little confused herself. “Because of his friend.” She pointed at the file. Clayton looked back down at the photo, and then again at Cricket.

“Do you know this man?”

“Sure, I’ve met him a few times when I was out with . . .” Her face flushed, and Clayton finally understood why.

“Listen, Cricket. I don’t care what you and Choctaw do in your free time.”

“But it says in the SOPs that county employees are not to fraternize.”

Clayton stared at her blankly. “Huh?” he said, even more confused.

“I really need this job, Sheriff. I don’t think I could go back to waitressing—”

Clayton shook his head and held his hands up to cut her off. “Cricket, I really don’t care about any of that, and I promise you no one is going to lose their job, but I need you to tell me right now how you know this man.”

“He’s James’s . . . Choctaw’s friend. His army buddy. You’ve met him, I think. I thought he was a pretty nice guy until that whole wrecking-the-patrol-car thing.”

Clayton sank into his chair. He held up the photo again and pictured the man in it with a full beard and longer hair. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Chester?”

“His name is Allen, but James calls him Chester because of the sex-offender thing that happened. I wasn’t supposed to tell you about any of that. Choctaw didn’t want you to disapprove.”

Clayton almost laughed. “Chester the molester,” he said to himself, as if he were answering a riddle.

“Yeah,” Cricket said. “Allen said he hated it, but if he let his buddies know, they would never stop calling him that. That’s how all those guys are. Always giving each other a hard time. I can’t believe he’s dead now. I just saw him two days ago.”

“Where was the last time you saw him?”

“Sunday night at James’s place. All the guys in his old army unit were coming into town for a get-together next weekend, and James asked me to help him plan it.”

“Was that the last time you saw Choctaw, too?”

“Yes, sir, and I haven’t seen him since. It’s not like him to break plans without telling me. That’s why I was so upset yesterday.”

“Was anyone else at Choc’s place Sunday?”

“Two of the guys from his unit had just come into town.”

“So Choc, Chester, and two other guys?”

“Yessir.”

“Cricket, listen to me. I need you to find Choctaw as fast as you can and have him call me immediately. Do you understand?”

“Do you think he has something to do with all this?” She looked on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know. I hope not. Just find him for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and scurried out the door. Clayton sat dazed for a minute, letting the information sink in, and then picked up the phone.

3.

“Holly.”

“Simon, it’s Clayton.”

“Well, how you feeling, Sheriff?”

“Like shit warmed over, but listen. I got information on your dead guy.”

“Do tell . . .”

“Allen Bankey is a guy I met once, going by the name of Chester. Turns out Chester was a nickname. That’s why I didn’t recognize the name you gave me. He’s an old army buddy of my deputy’s. I think he’s been bunking at his house.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Negative.”

“You got eyes on your deputy?”

“No. He’s MIA at the moment, but I’m tracking him down right now.”

“Do you think he’s involved?”

“I don’t know. I want to say he’s not capable of something like this, but either way, he’s my deputy, and my friend, so I want to find him first before you go higher up with anything.”

“Of course, Sheriff. Right now we’ll call him a person of interest and I’ll wait to hear from you before I call in the bloodhounds.”

“Simon. He’s my friend.”

“I understand that. You’re point on this. I’ll sit on it as long as I can.”

“Thank you.”

Holly hung up.

Clayton’s head was throbbing. Dehydration and information overload were ripping his head to pieces. He chewed two more aspirin and tried to suppress the voice booming in his head telling him to search the cabinets for a forgotten stash of whiskey. He almost listened, too, but Cricket’s frantic voice on the intercom drowned it out.

4.

“Sheriff?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we have a problem.”

“What now?”

Static.

“Cricket?”

Static.

Raised voices and a loud crash boomed from the lobby, followed by Cricket’s scream.

5.

Clayton nearly overturned his desk getting up and out the door. He prayed it wasn’t what he thought it was, but he knew what was happening on the other side of that door before he opened it. His brother, Halford, stood in front of the double glass doors leading out to the street, dangling Cricket by her hair like a fresh-caught fish on a line. The computer, phone, and picture frames from her desk were busted and scattered all over the floor from when Halford had pulled her up and over it. She was screaming and crying, scratching at Halford’s hand, but he only twisted it tighter in her hair. Clayton was horrified as he took in the scene, focused not on the petite, squirming young woman balancing on her tiptoes but on the double-barreled shotgun Halford had jammed up under her chin. Clayton drew his gun on instinct and trained it with both hands on his older brother.