Chapter Two
When Jessie’s knees buckled, Dax reached out to keep her from falling, but she managed to steady herself on the doorjamb before he could lend a hand.
“Ohmigod. C-Clinton’s d-dead? When, how, where?” Jessie’s body stiffened.
Brad wrung his hands and glanced to the ground. “I’m not sure. I just got to the bar and was taking the garbage out back when I saw him lying there.” His face contorted. “He… he had lots of blood on his forehead and everywhere.”
The man’s face paled, and Dax’s homicide detective instincts kicked in. “Are you sure he was dead?”
Jessie looked up at Dax, acting a little startled, as though she’d forgotten he was standing next to her.
Brad ran his gaze from the top of Dax’s head down to his scuffed up boots and back again. “Sure, I’m sure. His eyes were open.” He puffed out his chest.
The man was defensive but confident. That was a good sign.
“Did you touch the body or move him?” Jessie asked.
Brad straightened. “I shook him to see if he was drunk or something. That’s all.”
“Then you came right here?”
“No. I ran inside, got a tarp, and tossed it over him so no animals would mess with him.” He glanced down. “The sheriff doesn’t deserve to have anyone see him like that. It ain’t respectful.”
“Thank you, Brad,” Jessie said. “I appreciate you coming all this way to t-tell me.”
“Thought you should hear it in person.” The anxious man looked relieved his ordeal might be over. “Can I go now?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ll stop by later and take your official statement once I check out the scene.”
Poor Jessie. Her pretty face had paled and from the way she was rubbing her hands up and down her legs, this news had understandably devastated her. The informant spun around and sprinted back to his car. Dax found it odd that the man would run, but if he’d had anything to do with the sheriff’s death, he wouldn’t have told DuPree’s deputy about the murder in the first place.
Jessie looked up at Dax again, her green eyes shining and her face tight. She appeared to be using all her inner strength to hold in her grief.
Brad’s tires spun down the dirt drive, and his engine misfired once more.
Jessie visibly shook. “Nana, can you call Doc and tell him to meet me behind the bar?”
Dax removed his cell from his pocket and held it out. “You want to use my phone?” Jessie might be able to explain the situation better than her grandmother.
She waved a hand. “They don’t work here since we don’t have any cell towers nearby—at least not yet.”
No reception? He wasn’t used to being in an area without service and not having it might hinder his investigation.
“I can’t believe it,” Margaret said rising slowly from the sofa, her face slack. “We were just talking to him.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Who would do this to Clinton? Everyone loved him.”
Apparently not everyone.
“Nana, I have to check on Clinton.” She rushed to the closet, slipped on a jacket, and as she reached for her service weapon on the side table, knocked it off. When it bounced on the floor, Jessie sucked in a breath, scurried to it, and snatched it up. Her pretty face reddened.
Turning her back to both of them, she slid her piece in the empty holster, and then faced Dax. “Good luck finding Sadie.”
He couldn’t tell if she was still pissed that her grandmother had asked for his help, or if she was relieved she didn’t have to deal with a missing person when she had a murder on her hands.
“I can help investigate the murder if you’d like.”
Oh, Christ. His inner censor must have thought he’d issued a cease-and-desist order on thinking. He’d planned to stay only long enough to find the missing woman, but something about Jessie had drawn him in. She seemed focused and caring, two traits he admired.
Be honest, Mitchell. She’s hot.
She waved him off. “That’s all right. We can handle it.”
He shoved down his relief until her words registered. “We? Is there another deputy on the force?” There had been only two desks in the sheriff’s office.
Her jaw clenched. “No, I guess I forgot it’s just me now.” She pulled open the door and a blast of cold air rushed in.
“Have you ever handled a homicide before?” Dax asked.
Her shoulders stiffened. Way to go, Mitchell. The chances of many homicides in this small town were slim, so it was wrong to rub her inexperience in her face.
“No.”
He admired her honesty, and a bit of guilt mixed with his need to help. “Then I’m coming with you.”
He figured he’d get nowhere locating Sadie until this case was solved because folks from small towns tended to focus on one major event at a time. They wouldn’t be forthcoming with information until their sheriff’s murderer was caught and brought to justice.
Her shoulders sagged, looking as if she carried the weight of the world. She spun around to face him. “Suit yourself, but we take separate cars.”
She seemed too upset to drive. “Why?”
She blew out a breath. “I might have to stay all night, and I don’t want you to have to hang around. I know you need to find Sadie.” She shot a sympathetic glance back at her grandmother.
He liked that she was thinking again. “That works.”
Jessie looked over at her grandmother. “Stay by the phone, Nana. Okay? I might need you. And don’t forget to call Doc.”
Margaret’s face lit up. “Sure, honey, just be careful. You want to take some rolls with you?”
“I’m not hungry any more, but thanks.”
Jessie raced to her cruiser before he made it to his truck. She slipped in and then glanced over her shoulder. While she couldn’t help notice his limp, she showed no signs of disgust at his condition. Perhaps the town folk often came back injured from the war, but he bet not many had been as close as he’d been to a landmine.
During the four-mile drive to town, Dax was barely able to keep up with her. Lights flashing, she whipped around corners faster than a racecar driver, and what was left of his shock absorbers took a beating.
Once they reached the main drag, he checked the streets, looking for something suspicious. The Sugar Shack sign still flickered, and despite sampling the batch of cinnamon rolls, his stomach needed filling. He’d have to stop and buy something to eat before he headed back to Mrs. Nash’s.
He must not have been paying close enough attention because one minute Jessie was right in front of him and the next she’d disappeared. He made a quick right turn down a dark alley and nearly clipped his front bumper on a boarded up building in the process. Shit. The narrow rutted road bounced him around as he ate her dust, and he wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into. The two-story buildings on his right and left closed in on him, and his heart raced. He pressed his foot to the pedal, needing to get out of the confining space before the panic consumed him.
Jessie made it through the gauntlet in one piece, whipped around the end of the building, and once more disappeared from sight. Dax shot through the darkness to the same back alley where a few lights above some doors sporadically lit the roadway. The moment he turned the corner, he let out a long held breath.
As he pulled to a stop behind Jessie, she stepped out of her cruiser. The top of her head might only come to his shoulder but without a doubt, the woman had the longest legs he’d ever seen.
In need of fresh air and a clearer head, Dax swung out of his truck and scoped out the alley and the surrounding buildings. A sign on a door next to where Jessie had parked read, “Coal Mine Bar entrance. No parking.”
In order to effectively analyze the scene, he couldn’t have his leg pain distract him, so Dax stretched his thigh before making any sudden moves. As he headed toward Jessie, a whiff of rancid garbage made his nose wrinkle.
She must have smelled it too, because she rushed over to the dumpster and peered around it. She bent over and moved something. She then stalked off to the far end of the building before striding back.
With her hands planted on her hips and her feet wide, her gaze continued to sweep the area. “What the hell?” she said to no one in particular, looking like a spitfire ready to explode.
Dax reached the dumpster a second later. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The body’s not here.” The expression on her face said, Don’t mess with this woman.
The wind picked up and some of her pretty brown curls escaped her ponytail and framed her face. Her comment finally sunk in. “Missing? Are you sure?” Dax waved a hand. “Maybe the sheriff was merely unconscious when Brad found him and your boss woke up and walked away.”
A hint of hope flashed across her face. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“It’s possible.”
She looked down the alley, her breathing heavy.
He tried another option. “Could this have been some kind of hoax to lure you out here?”
A cool breeze shot around the corner, and Jessie pulled her jacket tighter before crossing her arms. “No. Brad would never be part of something so cruel.”
“Would anyone want to keep you away from your house to get to your grandmother?” He was grasping at straws, but occasionally he hit upon the truth.
She looked at him as if he had two heads. “No one would want to harm the sweetest eighty-year old in town. Besides, everyone knows she can handle a shotgun better than any man I know.”
Dax didn’t picture Margaret being a modern day Annie Oakley, but he’d been wrong before about people, and arguing with Jessie didn’t seem like it would do any good, anyway.
A second later she stomped past him and ripped open the back door to the bar. Fearing she’d get into trouble, he followed her. The bar smelled musty and damp, like the place had been closed for months, but Brad was there, carrying a case of beer to the bar.
“Where’s Clinton?” she demanded. Given the man was less than ten feet away, she shouted louder than necessary. No hello or how are you handling finding a dead man?
Brad slammed the case on the counter and faced her. “That’s what I’d like to know. I went to your place as soon as I saw the sheriff. When I returned, he was gone. I called your house, but your grandmother told me you were headed over here.”
Keeping his gaze on Brad, Dax stepped up next to Jessie. “Can you show us where you found the body? There might be some evidence we can process.” He kept his voice low and calm, hoping to diffuse the tense situation.
Brad wiped his hands on his dirty apron and headed out, flicking on the light that shone above the back door. He led them to the dumpster and pointed to the tarp. “He was right here, so help me God.” He held up a palm.
Using his foot, Dax slid the canvas cover to the side then crouched down to examine the crime scene. Damn, he needed his flashlight. “Hold on a sec.”
He rushed to his vehicle, and a moment later returned with a light in hand. Square foot by square foot, he searched for evidence.
“You see anything?” Jessie asked, her voice shaky.
Was she anxious about him doing the CSU work or just hopeful they’d find a clue to DuPree’s disappearance? “Excluding the empty beer cans and leftover food, all I see is what looks like blood on the back wall. If it is, I’m betting it belongs to the sheriff and not the killer.” He looked back over his shoulder. “You have any kind of crime scene kit around?”
“What do you need?”
He appreciated that she was willing to cooperate. “A high resolution camera for starters, and some swabs to take a blood sample.”
Her back straightened. “The department has a digital camera, but I can’t say it’s real high resolution. We’re a small town, Mr. Mitchell. We haven’t had a major investigation in a long time.” Her voice rose with each word.
“Hey, I was just asking.” He shot her a brief smile, but it wasn’t returned.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m upset, that’s all. I’ll gather what we have.”
Dax nodded, appreciating how much it must have taken on her part to cooperate.
Drag marks indicated the sheriff might have been moved, convincing him the victim hadn’t walked away.
In no time, Jessie returned. “This is all we have.” She sounded more apologetic than mad as she waved the small digital camera. “And here are the swabs and vials.”
“Excellent.”
She cleared her throat. “How about I take the photos while you gather the evidence?” She finally gave him a half smile, and the change in his pulse rate had to be the excitement of the hunt and not due to his stupid libido. Jesse was cute, but hardly the type to want someone like him.
“Perfect.”
She snapped away. “I didn’t think private investigators did criminal work. How do you know about this stuff?”
“It’s a long story.”
The crunch of gravel caught their attention, and Jessie whipped around. A station wagon, age indeterminate, rolled to a stop. Given gawkers would only contaminate the scene, he needed her to shoe them away. “Can you tell them this is a crime scene?”
“It’s the Medical Examiner, but I’ll tell him there’s nothing to examine.”