When Ghosts Come Home(20)
“I’d like to run point with the media on this,” Winston said. “And I’d like to keep a deputy out here twenty-four hours a day until the plane’s gone.” Winston’s office was already stretched thin, and keeping somebody out here on the runway around the clock to guard an airplane that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon was only going to stretch them thinner. But he’d already suggested it, and it was too late to take it back.
“I’m fine with that,” Rollins said. “It’s better you than me when it comes to reporters. And I appreciate the offer to keep eyes on the aircraft.”
“It’d better not be the same officers who were supposed to be looking for shell casings,” Rountree said.
Rollins sighed as if he wished that Rountree hadn’t said what he’d just said. He looked at Winston. “That’s fine with me,” Rollins said. “It would help us out until we can get this thing moved. I’ll give you a shout as soon as we know something about how that’s going to happen.”
Winston nodded at Rollins. “Let me speak to these reporters so they’ll leave,” he said.
He left the agents on the runway and headed back toward the parking lot. Winston stopped where Kepler stood and asked him to follow.
“Just stand beside me and look smart when I start talking,” Winston said.
Kepler shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”
As the two men walked, an ambulance from Dosher Memorial drove through the parking lot. The gathered members of the press parted for a moment, and the ambulance passed through the open gate and rolled onto the runway. It slowed when the driver spotted Winston and Kepler in their uniforms, but Winston gestured for it to continue on and pointed toward the spot where the agents still stood by Bellamy’s body at the end of the runway. He watched the ambulance for a moment, neither he nor Kepler saying a word, and then he turned back toward the parking lot, where the reporters—microphones, tape recorders, and cameras at the ready—were waiting for him.
He felt something familiar, something he had felt more often over the past couple of years; it was the knowledge that he could walk away from this job right now and go on about his life. After the shock of the decision, no one would begrudge him leaving the job, retiring, especially with Marie trying to recover and everything that had happened to Colleen. Winston knew it would be easy—perhaps practical—to give in to that urge. He felt like he was holding his breath instead of breathing, and he wondered why he was doing something he didn’t want to do. But what would happen if he walked away? If he literally walked away from the reporters and the investigation and Kepler and simply climbed into Marie’s car and drove home? They wouldn’t have insurance, for one. They wouldn’t have a steady paycheck. It would quickly become clear that Winston’s big decision to walk away from the stress of his job would introduce untold stress into the remaining parts of his life. Best to keep things how they were, at least until the election was over and any choice Winston could make in this moment would have been made for him.
The television reporters and cameramen saw Winston as he approached, and they could tell something was afoot. They scrambled into a cluster at the edge of the asphalt. He recognized the crime reporter from the Wilmington Star News and the field reporter from the State Port Pilot just down the road in Southport. Nearly all of them held either a microphone, a tape recorder, or a camera.
Winston pulled the notepad from his back pocket and flipped through it until he found the page on which he’d jotted his talking points in the grocery store parking lot. He took a deep breath. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Winston Barnes. Last night, a little after four a.m., the sheriff’s office arrived on the scene here at the airport, where we discovered an airplane abandoned on the runway, along with the body of an individual.”
“What was in the airplane?” asked the blond-haired reporter from Channel 3. “Can you tell us who was flying it?”
Winston lifted his hand to show that he wasn’t done speaking, and then he continued. “At this time, the victim has been identified as Rodney Bellamy of Southport, and Mr. Bellamy’s family has been notified. We have no information that links Bellamy or his death to this aircraft, but I want to stress that this is an active investigation, and that the airport will remain closed until it is completed. If anyone has any information on the events of last night, you are encouraged to contact—” Winston watched a Chevy crew cab dually pull into the lot. frye and son construction was labeled on the side. The truck parked at the end of the row of cars on Winston’s right. “If anyone has any information, please contact the sheriff’s office. I will not be taking any questions at this time. Thank you.”
But of course that didn’t keep the gaggle of reporters from calling out Winston’s name and shouting questions at him as he and Kepler walked past them. Winston gave them all a pinched smile and a couple of patient nods, but he didn’t stop to speak to them, and they didn’t follow.
He and Kepler walked along the edge of the parking lot toward Marie’s car, and as Winston removed his keys from his pocket, Bradley Frye climbed out of his truck. Winston watched as Frye straightened his pants and made sure his shirt was tucked in. He noted the pistol Frye had holstered at his side. What in the hell is he doing with that? Winston thought.
“Sheriff, Deputy,” Frye said, nodding at Winston and Kepler. His smooth, tan skin, blue eyes, and parted blond hair made him look ten years younger than his forty-one. His white polo shirt and khakis were clean and pressed crisp and straight. A first glance would take Bradley Frye for old money, but anyone who hung around him longer than a few minutes would discover that his family’s money was new, and it was spent on things like big trucks, expensive boats, and parcels of land where spec houses were thrown up overnight. Winston was more accustomed to arresting men like Bradley Frye for drunk driving or picking up prostitutes than he was accustomed to standing against them in an election.