Chapter Twenty
With Doc standing over the gravesite while Dax dug, it was déjà vu all over again. Jessie’s heart broke watching the old man. Even in the bright sunshine, his skin was sallow. He’d already lost his wife five years ago to cancer, and if Roberta was the one in the grave, Doc might lose it, and she wasn’t sure she could handle his tears without sobbing herself.
“Someone went to a lot of trouble trying to hide the smell,” Dax said. “There’s a ton of lime on the body. From the amount of scattered dirt, along with the matted grass near the site, the grave’s fresh.” Dax picked up the digging pace, tossing the lime away from them.
Jessie stepped back. “Careful, Dax. The wind is pushing the dust back on us.” She waved away a plume of lime and coughed. “You need a mask. Lime can do some lung damage if you’re not careful.”
“Hold on a sec.” Doc bent down and pulled out three face shields from his black bag. As a kid, she used to wonder if he had a rabbit in there since the man seemed to carry everything.
Doc put on his mask then handed the others to them. Dax slapped the white cover over his face then continued to dig faster and faster, as though removing the victim from the ground sooner rather than later would save the person somehow.
“Be careful, son. We don’t want to harm the body.”
Dax stopped. “Sorry.” He looked up at Jessie and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Jess, if you want to go back and be with Margaret, I’m sure I can get Doc to give me a lift home.”
Doc nodded. “Sure.”
“No. I want to see who it is before I break the news to her.”
“I understand.” Brown streaks stained his face and fatigue marred his forehead. Dax had come here to find Sadie, not baby-sit his employer, or help Jess keep her job. He was a truly good man.
A single cloud covered the sun for a moment, giving them respite against the heat. She never remembered October being this warm.
Dax dropped to his knees and began digging out around the body with his hands like he had with Sadie. His back muscles bulged and her fingers itched to touch him, to comfort him, to know him deeply.
Move on, Jess.
She studied the grave, the shape of the body seemingly too large to be Roberta, but maybe the excess dirt threw off the actual size, or else gases had filled the body. Jessie shook her head not wanting to think about what really happened when someone died.
Dax brushed dirt away from the face and Jessie sucked in a breath. “Ohmigod. It’s Clinton.”
While still horrible, she was relieved it wasn’t Roberta. Jessie had suspected…no, known in her heart, that Clinton was dead, but there had always been that seed of hope he’d merely run away.
She looked up at Doc. “Can you tell how he died?” She didn’t see any bullet hole to the head, but the dried blood on his temple indicated there’d probably been a fight.
“Finish cleaning away all of the dirt and lime from his face, will ya, Dax? I can’t tell a thing yet.” Doc stepped closer and squatted next to Clinton’s head.
Dax moved to his right and hovered over the body, blocking her view. He looked over his shoulder. “Jess, you really don’t need to see this. Why don’t you go home or back to town?”
“Go home? Like a good little girl? Have you forgotten I’m the sheriff and you’re… you’re…” She threw up her hands. She didn’t know what he was. Her hero? Dax had practically led every investigation since he’d arrived, but that didn’t mean she was a nobody or that she hadn’t contributed.
Forget it. It wasn’t worth fighting over. The real question was did she want or need to stay? She couldn’t help lift the body or aid them in any way. “Fine.” She held out her hand. “Keys. Of course that means I have to drive. Me, the person who wasn’t capable of driving a few hours ago.” Dax had been adamant that her injury prevented her from being able to brake effectively.
He looked rather sheepish. “Here,” he said dropping them into her palm. “If you drive slowly you should be fine.”
“I’m leaving, not because you told me to, but because I don’t want Nana looking for me and finding Clinton’s grave instead. I need to head back to the office to relieve Frank. He’s probably wondering where I am. I also need to make sure Brian gets fed, and then I have to fill out the necessary paperwork for Clinton.” She turned to Doc. “How long before you get the results of the autopsy?” She sounded professional, calm, and in control.
“On Clinton or Sadie?”
She nearly sucked in an audible breath. How could she have forgotten Sadie? Though the bullet to the head confirmed the cause of death in her humble opinion. “Clinton.”
“You’ve got to give me at least three days.”
“No problem.”
Jessie glanced back at the Harper’s dilapidated house. Nana’s car was still parked next to it. Jessie would have to tell her about finding DuPree—later, and then she’d contact Clinton’s family.
Jessie hobbled back down the hill to the cruiser. Her curiosity about dead bodies had been totally satisfied after seeing Sadie, so she didn’t need another full view of Clinton. Jessie wanted to remember what the kindly man was like when he was alive.
Once in the car, she stabbed the key in the ignition, rolled down the windows, and took off. Only after she hit the pavement, did she stick her head partly out the window to catch the breeze.
Despite taking Dax’s advice about driving slowly, her right leg throbbed every time she lifted her foot off the pedal and onto the brake, convincing her she might have to wait a wee bit longer before she resumed her normal driving duties. She hated when Mr. Know-It-All was right.
Needing to take her mind off the horror, she flipped on the radio to the only station that came in clear—Country Western. She hadn’t heard music in forever and missed the comfort it brought. She’d been with Dax so much she hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d heard her favorite songs.
Just her luck—the song playing was about unrequited love, a topic she didn’t need to hear, so she changed the station. The jazz song came in weak, but at least it had no words to remind her of anyone—like Dax.
To be sure, the man was an enigma. He seemed to care so much for the town, yet he kept telling her he would be heading back to Baltimore soon. Hell, perhaps she should jump his bones, as Nana would say, if only to have memories of the incredible experience after he left. A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away. She couldn’t decide if she was crying for Clinton or for Dax’s imminent departure.
Without any traffic, Jessie pulled in front of the office in less than sixteen minutes. As she climbed the steps, the normally pretty flowers by the door appeared to be wilting before her eyes. Clinton always remarked how much they brightened the entrance, but they must have sensed his passing and were in mourning. A lump formed in her throat. He’d been like a dad to her and now he was gone.
Jessie took a deep breath and pulled open the office door, working hard to compose herself. Frank was sitting in a chair next to the jail cell chatting with Brian. The second he saw her, he stood up.
“Howdy, Jess. You took longer than you said.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just factual.
“I know. I’m afraid we ran into a little trouble.”
Worry creased his brows. “What kind of trouble?”
She stepped to the desk area, sat down, and motioned him over. Frank dragged the chair back to Clinton’s desk and did the same.
She glanced over at Brian whose gaze was locked onto hers. “We found Clinton’s body,” she said loudly enough for both to hear.
Brian’s expression didn’t change—no shock, no sadness, no reaction. She prayed he didn’t have anything to do with her boss’s demise.
Frank let out a deep sigh. “Jess, I’m so sorry. Clinton was a fine man.”
“Yes, he was. I’m staying, so you can go home now. I’ll call you when I need you to come back.”
His face seemed to brighten. “You sure?” He checked his watch. “It’s my weekly poker night tonight, though I’m not sure if I feel like playing with Clinton dead and all.”
“Get going,” she said in a pretend stern voice. “You know as well as I do that Clinton wouldn’t want you to stop enjoying life just because he’s not here.” Especially since Frank had to be pushing eighty.
“You’re right.”
Frank used the chair arms to help him stand. For a moment, she thought he might lose his balance, but he didn’t. Shoulders hunched, Frank ambled off. From his back pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, and then quietly closed the door.
Boy, was this town going to need a long time to heal.
When Jessie turned around, Brian had moved back to the cot. “You hungry?” she called out.
“Could eat a horse,” came back the reply.
“I’ll order something from The Sugar Shack. What do you want?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Easy enough. She dialed the restaurant, and Cherise answered. Jessie ordered two hamburgers, fries, an iced tea for herself and a lemonade for Brian, just like old times. She waited for the melancholy to grab hold about the past, but it never came. Only Dax’s face appeared in her mind’s eye.
Did she have it bad or what?
“I’ll bring it right over when it’s done,” Cherise said, sounding way too excited.
“You don’t have to. I can pick up the food.” Even though the pain might take her appetite away. In the five minutes she’d be gone, she didn’t think anyone would try to break Brian out of jail.
“With your bad leg? Honey, I can walk a block or two. Besides, it’s a way for me to get out of here for a few minutes, if you know what I mean.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Jessie knew the real reason for the visit. Cherise had the hots for Brian—or least she used to. From what she’d heard, all the eligible women had their sights on him at one time. Too bad, they’d have a real long wait until he was released from prison this time.
Ten minutes later, a light knock sounded on the door. “That was fast.”
Figuring Cherise’s hands were full, Jessie opened the door, only to find it wasn’t Cherise at all, but rather Lena.
Lip split and bloodied, along with an eye swollen shut, she looked like she’d gone five rounds with a prizefighter.
“Dear God. Wh-what happened?”