Sixteen
After Trey got Dallas’s text, he had a difficult time concentrating on the work at hand, and got up and wandered through the jail area, making notes on things that needed to be fixed. It was almost nine when he went back to the paperwork that had been piling up. He had just begun when he heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, crap,” he muttered, and then stood up just as fussbudget Lowrance came in his door. “Morning, Mr. Lowrance. What can I do for you?” he asked.
George Lowrance was good at selling shoes, but not so great on apologies. Still, he considered it his duty, since he’d made two official complaints.
“I wanted to let you know that I put that surveillance camera in like your girl suggested, and this morning I finally caught the culprit in the act.”
Trey stifled a groan, hoping he wasn’t going to have to actually arrest someone for stealing a newspaper.
“So who was taking your papers?” he asked.
George rolled his eyes. “A dog. That scruffy mutt that hangs around the firehouse. You know the one—a little black short-haired thing with a bobbed tail and one floppy ear.”
Trey grinned. “Shorty. They call him Shorty.”
“Yes, that’s the one,” George said. “Anyway, I went down to the firehouse and talked to the guys myself. They told me Shorty had a mind of his own and they didn’t have an answer for my situation.”
“Well, I do,” Trey said. “Have the paper delivered to your home. You can bring it to work.”
George stood there a moment and then slapped his head. “Well, good grief! I should have thought of that myself. It would have saved me the cost of that surveillance camera.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Extra security is always a good thing,” Trey said.
“Yes, well, I just wanted you to know. Thanks again, Chief.”
“You’re welcome.”
Avery passed the shoe salesman in the hall and poked his head in Trey’s office. “Arraignment for the Pryor brothers is over.”
“Already?” Trey asked, glancing up at the clock.
“Lonnie said they were the first thing on Judge Evans’s docket and they both pled not guilty.”
“What? Why the hell would they do that? There were a dozen witnesses to the whole thing.”
“I don’t know. Lonnie just put them back in their cells and said you would want to know.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Trey said, but he was shocked.
So on top of everything else, those idiots were planning on dragging everything out and going through a trial. He thought about what Dallas had told him about storing ginseng, so now he knew the ginseng in that knapsack was going to rot. He thought about Walt’s wife and four kids being on their own if he went to jail; without money to tide them over this winter, they would go hungry.
He had an idea, and decided to see if he could get a minute to talk to Judge Evans. It might be a wasted trip, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try.
* * *
Trey’s steps were long and hurried as he walked the courthouse hall to Evans’s office.
The judge’s secretary was at her computer, and looked up and smiled when he entered.
“Hello, Chief. What brings you here?”
“Hey, Loretta. If the judge is in I’d like to talk to him a minute.”
“I’ll check,” she said, then rang his office.
Inside his chambers, Judge Evans put a bookmark in the legal volume he was searching to answer the phone.
“What’s up, Loretta?”
“The chief is here. He wants a few minutes with you.”
“Sure. Send him in,” Evans said.
“You can go in,” Loretta said,
“Thanks,” Trey said, and entered the judge’s chambers.
“Trey! Have a seat,” Evans said.
“Thanks. I appreciate this. I have something I’d like to run by you. It’s about the Pryor brothers.”
“Quite a mess. I imagine their families aren’t too happy with them about now.”
“Yes, that’s part of what I wanted to talk about. As you are aware, the stolen knapsack with the freshly dug ginseng belongs to Walt Pryor.”
“Right.”
“I know they’ve pled not guilty and that they want this to go to trial. The deal is, they committed or admitted to their crimes in front of a dozen witnesses as I was putting them under arrest.”
“Go on,” he said.
“Walt is the one who pulled the knife. His brother was unarmed, so he knows he can’t claim self-defense, and basically he has no leg to stand on getting out of the assault with a deadly weapon charge.”
“According to the law, you’re right.”
“And Stuart has already admitted to stealing his brother’s property, so he can’t deny what he did, because I witnessed his admission, and he got the stolen property out of his own vehicle and turned it over to me.”
“Yes, right again,” Evans said.
“My point is, if this is drawn out, the ginseng is going to rot. It needs to be sold now to keep it from spoiling, or at the least refrigerated to keep it fresh.”
“And how is that our problem?” Evans asked.
“Other than having part of the evidence spoil on our watch, none. But I was thinking, if the brothers agreed to waive trial and let you assess their guilt and punishment, and sentence them from the bench, the evidence would then be returned, correct?”
Evans sat there for a minute, thinking, and then it hit him. “You’re thinking about Walt’s family, aren’t you, Chief?”
“Guilty as charged, Judge,” Trey said.
Evans smiled. “You’re a good cop. You know your people, and you care about them. So I’m listening.”
“If the brothers were willing to do as I’ve said, then Walt’s wife could sell the ginseng today and have money to live on through the winter while Walt is in jail. If not, I know a woman and four kids who are going to have a cold and hungry winter up on the mountain.”
Evans leaned back in his chair. “You know you’re damn young to be the chief of police, right?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Well, just so you know, you’re doing a fine job, regardless of your age.”
“Thank you. I grew up here, and I do care about these people and what happens in this town. I intend to live and die here without one day of regret.”
Evans nodded. “Okay. Here’s my thought. If the brothers waive trial, and are willing to accept their sentences from the bench, then yes, Walt’s wife will get his property back and be free to do whatever she chooses with it.”
Trey beamed.
“Thank you, Judge. I’m going to have a talk with the brothers right now. Would you be willing to get this done today?”
“Hell yes,” Evans said. “The more cases I can clear from my docket, the happier it makes me.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Trey said.
He left the office in haste and headed back to the station.
Avery was dispatching an ambulance to the nursing home when Trey walked in.
“Where’s Earl?” Trey asked, as soon as Avery finished.
“On patrol,” Avery said.
“Get him in here ASAP. I need someone to witness a discussion I’m going to have with our two jailbirds.”
“Yes, sir,” Avery said, and quickly sent out a call for the officer to return to the station.
“When he gets here, tell him to come back to the jail.”
“Will do, Chief,” Avery said.
Trey headed down the hall to the back of the building where the jail cells were located. He could hear the brothers talking when he walked in, and from the sound of their discussion, they were both deeply regretting what they’d done.
“Good day, gentlemen. How’s it going?” he asked.
The brothers looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“How do you think it’s going, Chief? We’ve fucked ourselves, and we’re going to prison.”
“Yes, well, you have only yourselves to blame for that now, don’t you?”
They looked at each other and then down at the floor.
“Out of curiosity, what do you two hope to gain by going to trial?”
“Well, we thought one of us might get off, and then he could go home and take care of the family until the other one gets out,” Walt said.
Trey shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen. You know why?”
They looked crestfallen.
“No. Why?” Stuart asked.
“Walt tried to assault you with a deadly weapon in front of witnesses. He tried to cut you. Someone could say he was trying to kill you. That’s attempted murder.”
Walt groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“And you, Stuart, have already confessed to theft and handed over the stolen property to me from your own vehicle, again in front of witnesses. And since the value of the stolen property was over five hundred dollars, it became a felony. You’re not getting off on that, either.”
Stuart began to cry.
At that point, Earl walked in.
“Is everything all right, Chief? Avery said you needed me.”
“Everything is fine, Earl. I want you to be a witness to what I’m going to propose to these fine gentlemen here, so that they can’t come back later and claim they were railroaded into anything.”
Earl took out his cell phone.
“I’ll record it, Chief, and download it into evidence.”
Trey nodded.
“Okay, now. Walt. Stuart. You have both committed crimes in front of at least a dozen witnesses, and have confessed your guilt in those crimes to me at booking. Is this true?”
“Yes, I did,” Walt said.
“So did I,” Stuart added.
“And you’re both worried about Walt’s wife and kids, and your mother, who will be up on the mountain alone when you and Stuart go to jail. Is this true?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“And I assume you know that the ginseng being held in evidence, the ginseng Walt dug to sell and Stuart stole, is going to rot sitting in that knapsack in the evidence room.”
“I told him that,” Walt said.
“You need to know that I talked to Judge Evans on your behalf, and if you are both willing to waive your rights to a trial by jury and let him assess your crimes and sentence you from the bench, he will release the property in question to your family. Immediately.”
Walt jumped up from his bunk and grabbed the bars of the cell, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“You did that, Chief? You went out of your way to help our family like that?”
Trey shrugged. “They don’t deserve to suffer for the mistakes you two made.”
“I’m waiving my right!” Walt said.
Stuart was standing now, too, the tears drying on his face. “I’m waiving my right to trial, too,” he said.
“How quick can we do this? That ginseng isn’t going to last much longer,” Walt said.
Trey pulled his phone out of his pocket and made the call.
Loretta answered.
“Judge Evans’s office.”
“Loretta, it’s me, Trey. Tell the judge the Pryor brothers are willing. They’re ready when he is.”
“Just a moment, Chief, while I put you on hold.”
Trey waited.
“What did he say?” Walt asked.
“I’m on hold,” Trey said, and then Loretta came back on the line.
“He said to tell you, get the prisoners over here. Go to courtroom eight. He’ll meet you there. I’ll have a stenographer waiting.”
“Thanks, Loretta. See you soon.”
Trey hung up.
“Earl, grab the handcuffs and leg chains. We’re going to court.”
“Leg chains?” Stuart cried.
“So you don’t change your mind and run,” Earl said.
Within fifteen minutes they were pulling up at the courthouse and escorting the prisoners into court.
Less than thirty minutes later the brothers had been sentenced and were on their way back to jail to await transport to prison. Since neither man had a record of any kind, the judge had, in Trey’s opinion, been as lenient as he could be. The men would serve minimal time for their offenses, with the possibility of parole within the year.
Even better, the evidence had been released, and the minute it was back on Trey’s desk he was on the phone to Walt’s wife, who broke down in tears, thanked him effusively and said she was on her way.
The day was turning out to be a good one after all.
* * *
The fog didn’t completely dissipate on the mountain until after noon had come and gone. Dallas was sitting on an outcropping of rock taking a much-needed break and eating the sandwich she’d brought from home. Her back was tired, her shoulder was throbbing, and her belly ached from crouching to dig, but she had plenty to show for her misery. One of the plastic bags she’d brought was almost full.
She looked down at the area in which she’d been digging and then up at what was still left to harvest, and for a moment she felt the impossibility of accomplishing such a task alone. The harvest time for ginseng in West Virginia ran from September 1 to November 30, but she didn’t have the luxury of all that time. Not with the foreclosure date on the farm looming closer by the day and her buyer leaving on the first of October.
As soon as she was through eating, she quenched her thirst, found a bush where she could take a bathroom break and went back to work.
Now that the fog had lifted, she was more aware of how dense the woods were and how isolated she was. If only her hearing had been fully restored, she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable. So she kept the shotgun within reach and every so often rocked back on her heels to scan the woods around her.
* * *
It was sometime after 3:00 p.m. and Fraser was dozing when he heard a commotion outside the tent. Without thinking, he jumped up with his rifle in hand and walked out to find Snake holding a chunk of firewood and arguing with a gun-toting man wearing a uniform. His back was to Fraser, so his badge wasn’t visible, but Fraser was 99 percent sure the guy was a forest ranger.
His heart stopped. They were gonna get arrested, and when that happened, the outstanding warrants on his head would throw him right back in prison and he would die of old age in his cell.
He didn’t even wait to hear what he and Snake were arguing about. He just took aim and shot the ranger in the back.
The man dropped facedown less than three yards from where Snake was standing, and the shock on Snake’s face quickly turned to rage.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Snake screamed.
Fraser waved his gun and shouted back, “He was gonna arrest us, and I’m not going back to prison, that’s why.”
Snake threw the chunk of firewood at Fraser, barely missing his head.
“He wasn’t going to arrest us. He was just telling me that there’s no camping here.”
Fraser frowned. “You two were yelling. I heard you. And I come out and see you holding that stick and ready to fight. What was I supposed to think?”
“We weren’t yelling, we were arguing. And I wasn’t gonna fight him with no damn stick. I was about to build a fire when he walked up. Now you’ve gone and shot a Fed. We’ve got to hide this body and move our camp or we’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”
Fraser shrugged. “What about going after the woman?”
Snake threw up his arms. “Not now, you stupid fuck. We have to get out of the area. There’ll be a search party looking for this guy before daylight tomorrow, and the last place we want to be is here.”
“Well, shit,” Fraser said.
Snake was already throwing things in a duffel bag and cursing beneath his breath.
“Where should we hide the body?” Fraser asked.
“You killed him. You figure it out,” Snake muttered, and kept on packing.
Fraser put the ranger’s gun in the back of his waistband, threw the man’s lifeless body over his shoulder and walked out of the camp.
* * *
It was just after 4:00 p.m. when Dallas called a halt to the day. Both the plastic bags were full, her water was gone, and all she wanted to do was get home and take a bath. She loaded up her things in the backpack, grabbed the two bags of ginseng with her good arm and the shotgun with the other, and started back down the mountain.
The wind was up, the air smelled damp, and she was thinking they might get rain tonight when she stumbled and barely caught herself before she fell. As she did, the sudden noise spooked a rabbit. It darted across the path and into the brush, and in seconds it had disappeared.
“Sorry, little guy.”
She got a better grip on her things and kept moving, grateful that she was going downhill.
When she finally crawled into the pickup, the thought of what was left to be done at home made her groan. Then she reminded herself this dig was temporary. There would be plenty of time to rest when it was over.
As soon as she crossed the cattle guard, she took a left toward the barn and parked out front. She put the freshly dug roots into the cooler with the ones from the day before, and then walked up to the chicken house.
The little hens were chasing down the occasional bug, and any other hen that got too close to their spot of ground, clucking to each other and squawking their disapproval of imagined infractions. The henhouse hierarchy was her entertainment as she went about refilling feeders and putting out fresh water.
The old broody hen was still sitting on her ceramic egg, but the peck she aimed toward Dallas’s arm was halfhearted.
“You missed,” Dallas said, as she got the still-warm egg from underneath the hen, leaving the ceramic one behind.
Dallas noticed that one hen in the flock had a bloody place on the back of her head, a sign she was being pecked by some of the others. As tired as she was, she spent minutes trying to catch her so she could doctor the wound, then more time trying to hold the hen still to smear a nasty purple salve on the sore.
“Poor little girl,” Dallas said, as she turned the hen loose.
It wasn’t just women who gave other females in their group a hard time. Even hens could be bitchy to their own.
By the time the eggs were gathered, the wind had grown stronger and cooler. She glanced up at the dark clouds rolling in and wasted no time getting back to the barn with the eggs. Too tired to clean and sort them, she left them on the table in the cooler, then locked it up. The cows hadn’t come up, and it looked like it was going to pour, so she wasn’t putting out feed that would get ruined before they ate it. Obviously they’d taken cover somewhere and could wait until morning for their hay. She got back in the truck and drove up to the shed. Her feet were dragging by the time she got into the house with her gear. The door lock clicked, and for a few seconds it was the only sound in the house.
Dallas stood in the silence, absorbing the safety of her home as the first raindrops hit the roof. She was so tired she could hardly think. Her clothes were filthy, her hair windblown and, again, sporting some of the mountain’s best greenery. She went into the utility room and stripped by the washer, dumping in clothes as she went. After starting the laundry, she walked bare-assed naked through the house, cradling her arm like a sling to ease her shoulder pain.
It was almost five o’clock. Trey wouldn’t be home before six at the earliest. She had just enough time to clean up and then think about food after.
* * *
Trey’s last text from Dallas had been just after two. She’d been fine then, and he had no reason to assume she wouldn’t still be fine when he got home. Even so, he was worried. Dealing with the aftermath of the Pryor brothers’ fight was a vivid reminder of the dangers of cultivating ginseng.
It started raining just as he stopped by his apartment to pick up some more of his things and then head out to the farm, suddenly anxious to see her face. He was certain she was already home, so he picked up the phone and called her. When it went to voice mail, he told himself she could be in the shower or the phone could be in another room. There could be any number of reasons why she didn’t pick up, but he accelerated anyway.
The house was dark when he pulled into the yard and parked, and that made him nervous. He ran through the rain, his heartbeat going double time. And then he walked in and stopped, letting out a sigh of relief, and closed the front door.
She was sprawled out on the sofa in a pair of sweats, with an old T-shirt draped across the upper half of her body like a blanket. Her hair was still damp, and her feet were bare. It looked like she’d just sat down and passed out.
He shed his wet jacket, then moved closer to where she was lying, and saw medicine for her shoulder on the coffee table and guessed she’d left the T-shirt off on purpose, waiting for him to come home and help her doctor the wounds.
Her hands were skinned, the knuckles scraped and one a little bloody, and even though she’d obviously bathed, there was still a faint tinge of dirt beneath her nails from a long day’s digging. It hurt him to see her so beat-up, but at the same time his admiration for her grew. He thought about their lives down through the years and knew that, no matter what they were dealt, she would not shy away.
He scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom.
She whispered his name and rolled over when he laid her down.
“Love you, baby,” he said softly, then pulled a blanket over her shoulders and left her to rest.
* * *
Dallas woke up in the dark and for a moment couldn’t think where she was. Then she smelled bacon and fresh-brewed coffee, and remembered she’d been waiting for Trey to come home, which obviously, he had.
She threw back the blanket and got up, slipped into a pair of house shoes, and took the T-shirt with her when she left. She walked into the kitchen just as Trey was taking a pan of biscuits out of the oven.
“Oh, my Lord, that smells good. I’m sorry I passed out on you.”
He set the pan down and went to hug her. Even from where he was standing, she smelled wonderful, like bath powder and the lavender scent of her bedroom. And the fact that she was still carrying that T-shirt made for an interesting view.
“There you are,” he said, as he slipped his arms around her. “This making out half-dressed could catch on.” He gave her a quick pat on the butt. “Turn sideways for me, baby, so I can look at your shoulder.”
“It hurts, and it’s my own fault,” Dallas said. “I carried a backpack today. The weight aggravated the wounds. Just tell me they’re all okay.”
“Yes, I think so. None of them look infected, but you do need the ointment. It’s still on the coffee table.”
She went to get it, and as soon as he doctored the wounds, he helped her on with the T-shirt, then washed up and began putting dinner on the table.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Sit down and eat all this food I made.”
“Gladly,” she said, and glanced out the window as he sat down with her. “It’s still raining.”
“Yes, and it’s plenty cold. Even if it stops raining, you’re going to have a muddy dig tomorrow.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, as she lifted a biscuit from the plate in front of her and took a bite. “Oh, my Lord, on a happier note, your biscuits are way better than mine.”
He grinned. “You’ll be pleased to know that I excel at a whole lot of things.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the vast scope of your skills. Pass the butter, please.”
When he scooted the tub of butter toward her with his fork, she laughed.
He smiled, and the meal progressed as he related the latest installment on the Pryor brothers’ story, and then he listened in awe as she told about the big buck coming out of the fog.
They were almost through cleaning up when Trey’s cell phone rang. Dallas was standing by it and saw the caller ID. “It’s your mom.”
He winked at her as he picked it up. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you home?” she asked.
“I’m at Dallas’s place, why?”
“I just wondered if you’d heard.”
“Heard what?”
“Bobby Ramsey is missing. He didn’t show up at the ranger station, and he hasn’t called home. His wife has been calling him ever since it started raining, and he hasn’t answered. I heard they were organizing a search party. I thought you might be involved.”
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Trey’s stomach. He and Dallas had grown up with Bobby.
“Well, hell, this doesn’t sound good. Thanks for telling me. I’m sure the Park Service is in charge, but I’ll find out what’s happening. If there’s a search party, I’m going.”
“Let me know if you hear anything more. And my best to Dallas. I haven’t heard from her in a couple of days. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Mom. She’s just been working around the farm, kind of reacquainting herself with everything here.”
“Good for her. I don’t suppose she’s said anything more about her future plans?”
“Hey, Mom, I’m getting another call. Talk to you later.”
He switched calls as Dallas slid underneath his arm.
“Something bad happened, didn’t it?”
He nodded. “Bobby Ramsey is missing.” Then he held up a finger to indicate his other call was on the line. “Hello?...Yes, I just heard. Where are they organizing the search?...I can be there in about twenty minutes, give or take....Okay. Thanks.”
Dallas shuddered. “Isn’t he a forest ranger?”
“Yes,” Trey said. “Walk with me while I change, so we can talk.”
She followed him to his room. “What was he doing when he went missing?” she asked.
“They said he went out on a call and never came back. They’re organizing search teams at the ranger station on the national park side of the mountain. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Dallas was already digging through his closet, pulling out work boots and a sweatshirt.
“I know you’ll have your poncho and your coat, but put this sweatshirt on over your shirt or you’ll freeze.” She was trying not to panic. “It would have to be raining.”
“Trouble doesn’t wait for good weather,” he said, as he changed back into his work boots. He had a winter coat back at the apartment, but there was no time to go get it, so he pulled the sweatshirt over his shirt, grabbed his heavy jacket, and put his service revolver and holster back on.
This was the first time she’d been faced with the reality of his job, and it made her anxious. “If you get a chance, call and let me know you’re okay.”
“Don’t wait up,” he said. “There’s no telling how long this will last.”
He gave her a hard, hungry kiss and headed for the front door, grabbing his hat off the hall tree as he passed.
“Where’s your rain gear?” she asked.
“In the car. Lock up behind me, and say a prayer that we find Bobby with nothing worse than a broken leg and a dead cell phone.”
“I will,” she said, and then he leaped off the porch out into the rain, and moments later he was gone.
She locked the door behind him, and as she turned around, a shiver suddenly went up her spine.
There would be no sleeping in this house tonight.