Chapter 16: Alex
I woke up the next morning feeling worse than I had when I went to sleep. The image of my father lying in the ICU stayed with me through the night. I had nightmares of him crawling out of his bed, calling out my name and searching for me while a dozen or so Heath’s laughed all around him. It made me sick in the stomach.
I got dressed quickly, eager to get to the police station and really take out my frustration on the Sheriff, and made my way downstairs. The aroma of scrambled eggs and bacon mixed with the gentle giggling coming from the kitchen.
Kelly was at the kitchen table, stuffing her face with what looked like the breakfast for champions. Jenni was sitting across from her, hair tied back in a loose ponytail and eyes still drooping with sleep. She looked gorgeous nevertheless. My mouth watered as the aroma of breakfast filled my nostrils.
“Morning,” I said with a smile, opening the fridge and taking out the orange juice.
“You sure took your time,” Kelly said, frowning at me. “We should have been at the hospital by now.”
“You look like you woke up five minutes ago,” I replied, grabbing a glass and sitting down beside her.
“And I’m ready to go,” she said. “So, let’s go.”
“In a minute,” I replied, taking the fork from her hands and tossing a bite of eggs and bacon into my mouth. She elbowed me in the side, took her fork back and pointed it at me angrily.
Jenni laughed and held up her mug. “Fresh pot,” she said, gesturing to the coffee machine.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Seems like the chipmunk’s in a hurry.”
And so was I. Ever since our meeting with the Sheriff at the hospital, I wanted to give the bastard a piece of my mind. I had contemplated finding Heath myself, making him pay for what he did, but I knew that wasn’t the right solution. What good was my badge if I didn’t follow the laws I had sworn to uphold? Besides, the Sheriff’s incompetence would give me an excuse to make his life a living hell. If shit like this went down around Kent and he was doing nothing about it, then he shouldn’t be the man for the job in the first place.
I drank my juice, tried to steal more breakfast from Kelly’s plate, then rushed upstairs and got changed into jeans and a t-shirt. By the time I came back down, Kelly was already waiting by the door, tapping her feet impatiently and urging me to hurry up.
“You’re not coming?” I asked Jenni.
“No,” she said. “I have to get to the diner, and then run a few errands. I’ll meet you both back here for dinner.”
“You really don’t have to do this, you know?” I said, although a large part of me was grateful for her being here. “We’ve put you through enough.”
“Shut up, will you?” she said, turning me around and pushing me out the door, much to Kelly’s delight. “Now get going, and give Baker hell.”
“I totally intend to,” I replied.
* * *
I dropped Kelly off at the hospital and made my way downtown. I knew I should have gone in with her, but I felt that if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to pull myself away from Samuel’s side. Right now, I was furious, and I wanted to keep that feeling alive until I got to the station.
Besides, I couldn’t shake away the feeling of guilt I had. I should have been there when it had happened. I should have dropped Jenni off, driven home and been at my father’s side when that bastard Heath came calling. My instincts had warned me about the possibility of something like this happening, and I had brushed it off, thinking that I was just being paranoid. That visit from Heath on the day I arrived was enough to give me an idea of how messed up he was. I had been naïve to think Kent was still the small town I had grown up in where everyone left their doors unlocked and you could take a walk around town at midnight without having to worry about anything.
So much has changed.
I clenched my teeth and shook my head in frustration. Changed or not, I wasn’t going to let Heath get away with this. If the Sheriff wanted to take his sweet time, I was definitely going to light a fire under his ass and get him moving.
The station was just off North Main Street, down Berkley Drive and surrounded by open fields. The post office sat idly on the other side of the road adjacent to the supermarket that boasted its rich supply of organic food. There were very few cars parked here, but my eyes immediately caught the Mustang parked at an obscure angle to the curb. I pulled up beside it, and as I climbed out of my car, I took note of the license plates and made my way up the steps and into the station.
Being a DEA agent in Miami, I was used to the welcoming sound of a busy police force running back and forth, rushing to get things done. Telephones would be ringing, fingers would be tapping furiously at keyboards, and someone would always be shouting in the phone. It was a symphony of activity I had learned to love and appreciate.
Walking into the Kent Sheriff’s Station made me feel like I had stepped into a church. A couple of officers sat lazily at their desk, staring at their phones with their legs propped up. A copy machine was being operated somewhere in the background, the swishing sound of paper falling into the tray almost deafening in the otherwise silent space. No one seemed to even notice that I had walked in.
I walked up to one of the officers and asked to see the Sheriff. The officer looked up at me, stretched and yawned, then looked back at his phone.
“What do you need to see him about?”
“I was asked to come down and give a statement,” I replied, fighting the urge to grab the phone and smash it against the wall.
“You can give your statement to me,” he said, swiping a finger across the screen of his phone.
“I would, but you seem a little too preoccupied by important police matters for me to bother you,” I replied. The officer shot me an annoyed glare that made me smile. “I’d rather talk to Sheriff Baker.”
“He’s in his office,” the officer said, returning to the phone.
I couldn’t resist the urge any longer and snatched the phone from his hands.
“Hey!” he shouted, standing up quickly.
I pushed him back into his seat and tossed the phone onto the desk. “Where’s his fucking office?”
“Mr. Logan?”
I turned to see the Sheriff standing by an open door, a mug in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth.
“Sheriff,” I greeted. “Your officer here was just showing me to you.”
Baker didn’t look impressed. He shot an angry glare at the officer and gestured for me to follow him.
“I’ll let you get back to your Candy Crush game,” I said over my shoulder as I made my way past the empty desks and into the Sheriff’s office. I stopped cold when I saw Garth Liston sitting inside.
“If it isn’t Alex Logan,” Garth smiled. “I was hoping to bump into you today.”
“Garth,” I greeted coldly.
“Please, Mr. Logan, sit down,” the Sheriff pointed at the chair opposite to Garth. “I called in Mr. Liston this morning so we can sort out last night’s incident together.”
“I think you misheard me last night, Sheriff,” I said, sitting down and folding my arms over my chest, glaring at Garth. The smile on his face annoyed me, and the fucker’s nonchalance was unnerving. It was like I had stepped into his office instead of Baker’s. “I remember distinctly telling you that Heath Collins attacked my father.”
“That’s why the Sheriff called me,” Garth said, smiling at Baker as if letting him know that he’d handle the conversation from here. “You see, Heath is under my employment, and I handle all matters related to my employees.”
“Really?” I asked. “So, you’re the one who told him to beat the shit out an old man?”
Garth chuckled. “This is all a big misunderstanding,” he said.
“I’m not exactly sure how,” I shot back, clenching my teeth and trying to keep the anger out of my voice. “My father’s in the ICU because of your employee. The way I see it, he should be arrested.”
“Sheriff, you have to understand, there’s a story behind this,” Garth said, turning to Baker and ignoring me completely. “I’ve been assigned with the purchase of a plot of land for the new casino. You know, the one that’s supposed to bring new jobs and money into Kent? Well, the place my clients have an eye on just happens to belong to Samuel Logan.”
“Garth,” the Sheriff started, putting his mug down and folding his hands in front of him. “You do understand that telling me this gives your employee a motive, right?”
I relaxed a bit. Baker seemed to be a little more competent than he had let on.
Garth chuckled. “Of course, I know what it sounds like, but I assure you, that’s really not the case. All Heath was doing was trying to convince Samuel to sell.” Garth looked at me and shrugged. “It seems the Logan’s really want to hold onto their property.”
“Still giving the police motive, Garth,” I said. “But by all means, keep going. You’re making this so much easier.”
“The way I heard it, Sheriff,” Garth said, “was that Heath and Samuel were having a normal conversation, and Samuel got a little aggressive. He actually pulled a gun on Heath. A shotgun, I believe. Doesn’t surprised me, because he had threatened me with a shotgun just a few days before, in pubic, at The Red Roof.”
Rage burst inside me, and my hands clenched into fists. “Bullshit.”
“Heath was just defending himself, really,” Garth continued. “I know the man well. He wouldn’t beat an old man to the point where he’d have to be hospitalized for no reason. He was threatened. Samuel Logan is a menace to society.”
I jumped out my seat, slamming a hand on the Sheriff’s desk, and pointed a finger in Garth’s face. “Listen to me, you little shit,” I hissed. “If you think that story’s going to fly, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Mr. Logan, please sit down,” Baker said.
I turned to him angrily. “Do you actually believe this crap?”
“Looks like aggression runs in the family,” Garth commented.
“You haven’t seen me aggressive,” I warned.
“I haven’t,” Garth nodded. “But Jack Pole sure has. And I have a whole crowd of witnesses who can attest to seeing you beat him last night. Broke his elbow, too, didn’t you?” Garth turned to the Sheriff. “Honestly, Jack wanted to sue, but I convinced him not to. The Logan’s, after all, are old family friends.”
“Is this true?” Baker asked.
“The man was dealing drugs outside a coffee shop,” I said. “He pulled a switchblade on me.”
“Can you prove that?” Baker asked.
“Excuse me?” I turned to look at him, a part of me furious at how gullible he was.
“The blade and the drugs,” Baker said. “Do you have proof of those?”
“Jenni Wright was with me last night,” I said, noticing the momentary change in Garth’s eyes. “She can back my story.”
“I’ll have a talk with her, then,” Baker said. “And you say your daughter’s the only one who saw Heath Collins beat your father?”
I nodded.
“Come on, Sheriff,” Garth smiled and shook his head. “She’s just a little girl. She must have been confused by what she saw.”
I wanted to punch him right then and there. I wanted my fist the slam that smug smile off his face, and then I wanted to drag him around the office and kick at him until he was coughing up blood. The rage inside me made my head hurt, and my fists shook as I tried to control the anger.
“That’s something we’ll determine in time,” Baker replied. “Until then, I suggest you tell Mr. Collins not to leave Kent until we get this all sorted out. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I yelled.
“I’d appreciate if you kept your tone down, Mr. Logan.”
“You’re actually going to believe this bullshit?”
Baker shrugged. “I have to hear all sides of the story before I can reach a decision. To be frank, this is a touchy situation, and needs to be handled with great care.”
“This is ridiculous, but that’s what this is,” I shot. “We’re not talking about international relations, here. I want Heath Collins arrested for what he did to my father.”
Baker stood up and glared at me. “I will say who gets arrested and when. Until then, I suggest you tend to Samuel, and leave the police work to me.”
I scoffed and shook my head in disbelief. “Police work, huh?”
Baker didn’t reply and met my eye with a solid stare.
“Tell you what, I’ll take care of this myself,” I said, shooting an angry look at Garth before making my way out.
“Mr. Logan, I’m warning you, stay out of this or I’ll arrest you for hindering police investigation,” Baker called after me.
“You’re doing enough hindering for the both of us, Sheriff,” I called back and stormed out of the station.
If the bastard wasn’t going to get the job done, I’d do it my fucking self.