When Ghosts Come Home(13)

They stopped at Glenn’s patrol car. “I’d like to keep this under our jurisdiction for as long as we can,” Winston said. He could’ve referenced the election and said, We’ve got a lot riding on it, but Glenn knew that, and he also could have said, We need to look like we’re in charge, but Glenn already knew that too. Winston took off his jacket and opened the driver’s-side door of Marie’s Buick and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat. “I’m going to step inside Hugh’s office and call Marie, and then I’ll ride out to Southport and see if I can talk to Bellamy’s wife. Now ain’t the time to ask her any questions, but I got to let her know. I’ll call Ed too. See if he can meet me there.”

“Good luck,” Glenn said.

“Yeah, well,” Winston said, “I appreciate that.”

Winston asked Glenn to call the morgue to come get Bellamy’s body, and then he told him to put a team together back at the office that would get busy checking on van rentals and storage facilities. He also wanted Polaroids of the tire tracks in the hopes they’d be able to match the tread to a vehicle or a trailer that had been rented. For now Winston had given up on finding any shell casings, and he sent Englehart out on patrol and assigned Kepler to guard the perimeter around Bellamy’s body and to keep an eye on the airplane. Dorsey and Sweetney had remained out on the runway, and from where Winston and Glenn stood, they could take in the whole scene: the tarp covering Bellamy’s body, Kepler positioned above it; Dorsey in his tan baggy suit and Sweetney in his polo and khakis standing out in the morning sun where the silvery body of the DC-3 sat, its tail collapsed on the ground just a few feet away.

Glenn turned and looked behind them. “Well, looky there,” he said.

Winston turned too and saw a van from Channel 9 pull into the parking lot. He was surprised it had taken them this long, and he knew more news crews from Wilmington would soon follow.

He left Glenn where he stood and walked toward the news van, meeting the on-air reporter as she tried to make her way out to the runway, microphone already in hand, the cord wrapped around her forearm. “I’m sorry,” Winston said, waving his hands in front of him to stop her from moving past him, “but this is a crime scene.” He looked up as a cameraman hoisted his gear from the back of the van. “Y’all can film from up here in the parking lot, but don’t go any farther. We’ll have a statement soon.”

Otherwise, Winston had no comment at this time. He wouldn’t speak a word to the press about the investigation until he’d sat down with Ed Bellamy and Rodney’s widow. From where the news crew was setting up, they could see the airplane resting sideways on the runway, its back wheel broken off, and they could also see that the sheriff’s office had something covered up out there on the grass. Any fool could surmise what had happened, but the questions were how and why, and Winston didn’t have answers for those just yet.

He stepped inside Sweetney’s empty office and picked up the telephone and called home. Marie answered on the first ring.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” Winston said. “You? Did you get some sleep?”

“I did,” Marie said. “But you weren’t back when I woke up. It scared me.”

“Well, you should’ve known that Glenn would come to the rescue, help an old man do his job.”

“You’re mad at me for worrying about you?”

“No, I’m mad at you for trying to do my job for me, Marie. I’m the sheriff, not Glenn. I don’t need some kid checking up on me in the middle of the—”

“He’s older than Colleen,” Marie said, “and if he’s some kid you shouldn’t have made him captain.”

“That ain’t the point,” Winston said, his voice louder than he’d meant for it to be. He looked up and checked the door to make sure no one had stepped into the office without him knowing. He turned back to the desk. “That ain’t the point,” he said again. “I’m up for reelection, Marie. My officers need to believe that I’m the best man for this job. They don’t need to spend a second thinking I can’t handle it.”

“Well, I’m not one of your officers,” Marie said. “I’m your wife.”

“So, you’re saying I can’t handle it? You want me just to give up and drop out?”

“I’m not saying that, Winston. You just need to understand that when you go out alone in the middle of the night—”

“When I go out alone in the middle of the night I go out as the damn sheriff of this county,” Winston said. “I plan to keep on being sheriff, and I’m asking you and Glenn and whoever else to let me keep this job as long as I’m elected to do it.”

“Okay,” Marie said. “I want you to keep the job.”

“Thank you,” Winston said.

The line grew quiet, and he regretted raising his voice and showing Marie how angry he’d been. Displays of anger had always embarrassed him, especially his own, but that didn’t mean he was ready to apologize.

“I heard there’s a body,” Marie finally said.

“Who’d you hear that from?”

“A little birdy.”

Winston wanted to be surprised that word had carried so quickly, but he wasn’t. The island was small; the telephone made it smaller still. Word about the identity of the body would spread soon.