Hunting Witches (11 page)

He took a sip of coffee. “This is good,” he grunted. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Sheriff,” Shelly said. She reached over and held his hand. He squeezed back, but didn’t let go. They ate breakfast together like that, one-handed.

Graham’s phone rang, vibrating its way across the table. He glanced down at it. “Work,” he said, before letting go of Shelly’s hand and turning the ringer off. “Let voice mail get it.”

“Great idea,” she said.

“I do have to go, though,” he said.

“I know,” she said, and the disappointment in her voice was impossible for her to hide. “Finish your breakfast first.”

He smiled at her and put a piece of sausage in his mouth.

“So, this is a weird question,” Graham said, after he had finished chewing. “Do you have a bible around here?”

“I’ve got my mammaw’s old bible in the living room,” she said. “Did you find religion overnight, Sheriff?”

Graham shook his head. “I think religion is trying to find me.”

***

Graham made it to the station around nine o’clock. Tamara was behind the front desk. She made an exaggerated sniffing motion as he walked by. “Morning, Sheriff,” she said. “How’s Shelly?”

“Drop it,” Graham said, rolling his eyes. He pushed his way through the small swinging door in the counter and walked back to his office.

He had just sat down when Deputy Moon walked in. “Good morning, Sheriff,” he said. “Smells like you didn’t go home last night.”

“Do we always have to talk about this, every time it happens?” Graham said. “I am a grown ass man, and if I want to stay the night at Large Richard’s place, by God, I’ll do it!

“That’s fair,” Moon said. “But wouldn’t you rather stay with Shelly?”

“Look, do you have anything to tell me, or are we just going to discuss my private life, which should be private, meaning I don’t wish to discuss it?”

Moon pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Graham’s desk.

“No prints on the brick,” he said. “No weird hairs, no unusual fibers. Nothing.”

“That’s about what I expected,” Graham said.

“Any ideas about the numbers?” Moon asked.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Scripture reference, but I haven’t figured out which one yet.”

“That explains the Bible on your desk.”

“Yeah. Just a little research.”

Deputy Moon pointed at the computer on Graham’s desk. “You know, Sheriff, they have the Bible online. All of them. Book of Mormon, Q’uran, all of them.”

“Who wants to read the Bible online?” Graham asked. “That seems wrong. Bibles need to be leather-bound and they need to smell like family and shame.”

“Are you a Christian, Sheriff?”

Graham rubbed his eyes. “I was. At one point.”

“How about now?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “I suppose I’m more of a Universalist these days. There’s a lot of stuff out there I had never considered before.”

“Yeah,” Moon said. “And a lot of it is pretty fucking weird.”

“There is that,” Graham said. “Hey, what do you know about the dentist around here?”

“Who, Dr. Mike? I hear good things. You need some work done?”

Graham shook his head. “Need to ask him a few questions. No big deal. I’ll swing around there after a while. Anything else I should know?”

Moon shrugged. “That’s it, man,” he said. “Life in a small town, huh? Your whole debriefing in thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, yeah. Life is good. Now, scoot. I got reading to do.”

Moon nodded and left the Sheriff alone. Graham leaned forward, put his arms on his desk and opened the Bible. He squinted. Why were holy texts always in such damned small print? He made a mental note to get his eyes checked.

He thought about the numbers on the brick. 13, 26, 27. In Biblical notation, that would read 13: 26 – 27. Some book of the Bible, thirteenth chapter, verses twenty-six and twenty-seven. And it was probably an Old Testament book; the religious loonies never read the New Testament. That was all peace and love and shit. Who needs that?

Graham had done a good job of forgetting his Christian upbringing, and trying to recall specifics now was difficult. Was there a book of the Bible that
didn’t
have at least thirteen chapters? Song of Solomon, maybe.

Fuck. This was going to take forever.

Maybe Deputy Moon had the right idea, after all.

Graham logged into his computer and did a quick search for “online Bible.” The search engine hits were plentiful. Graham clicked on the one at the top of the list.

“Well, holy shit,” he said to himself. The website he chose featured search parameters, filters and keyword recognition. This was going to free up a big chunk of the day. Graham typed in the numbers, using standard Biblical format. The screen filled with words and numbers.

“All right, then,” Graham whispered. “Dig in.”

Some books had enough chapters, but not enough verses. Some of the selections matched the profile, but didn’t make any sense. The second book of Samuel talked about Absalom, the gimp, but that didn’t seem to have any bearing in the case. Even the book of Job, filled with railing and frustration, didn’t quite fit the crime.

Graham suddenly wished he had taken some of Shelly’s coffee to work with him. This was more than a little boring. Maybe he should have been doing them in order.

“Nehemiah,” he muttered. “That sounds nice and overbearing.” He pulled up the Scripture and read it.

26 
Did not Solomon king of Israel sin by these things? yet among many nations was there no king like him, who was beloved of his God, and God made him king over all Israel: nevertheless even him did outlandish women cause to sin.

27 
Shall we then hearken unto you to do all this great evil, to transgress against our God in marrying strange wives?

Graham rubbed his chin. This could be something. Outlandish women? Strange wives?

“Well, fuck,” Graham said, slapping his desk. If that was it, if this was the reference, then there was more going on than just a simple vandalism. It was a hate crime.

Graham thumbed the key on his radio. “Deputy Moon, come in. Over.”

Moon’s response crackled back. “Go for Moon, over.”

“What’s your twenty, Deputy? Over.”

“Uh… the break room. Over.”

“Come see me. Bring me some coffee, while you’re at it. Over.”

“Roger that, Sheriff. Over and out.”

The deputy was in his office within two minutes, grinning. “That was fun,” Moon said. “Us using the radios inside the building? Awesome. We should do that all the time. Makes everything seem so important.” He set the sheriff’s coffee down on his desk, then sat across from him.

“I’ve got a hunch I want to run past you,” Graham said. “Are you aware of any hate groups in the Keep?”

“You mean, like the KKK? Or the White Caps?” Moon shrugged. “Not as far as I know. Those guys at the Lions Club can be assholes sometimes, but nothing I would consider serious.”

“Yeah,” the sheriff said. “I don’t know of anything like that here, either.”

“What’s going on?”

Graham sank back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “Well, nothing I can prove, which is annoying.”

“So what’s the thing you can’t prove?”

“I think somebody isn’t too happy about having an interracial couple in the Keep,” Graham said.

“You’re shittin’ me,” Kevin said. “Who cares about that?”

“Hard telling, Deputy,” Graham sighed. “It’s the South. Old ways die hard.”

“I thought we were past all this,” Kevin said.

Graham crossed his arms and stared at his deputy. “You know you live in an all white town in East Tennessee, right? Nika Pendleton is literally the only African-American in town. You’re aware of this, right?”

“Oh, sure, Sheriff!” Deputy Moon said.

“We are the last people who need to be talking about racism because we honestly don’t know the first thing about it.”

“No wonder I’m confused, then.”

“So, this is what I’m thinking,” Graham continued. “Not only is this possibly a racially-motivated crime, but it was probably perpetrated by some religious zealots who may not even live in the Keep.”

“But how can you prove it?” Deputy Moon asked.

“That’s the entire reason we’re having this conversation,” the sheriff replied. “I can’t prove it. I have a theory and that’s all.”

“Have you told the Pendletons yet?”

“Tell them what? Here’s what I think, based on a cryptic clue that could potentially mean a dozen other things and for which I don’t have a shred of tangible evidence?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Deputy Moon said.

“No, Deputy,” Graham said. “It’s not. There’s no sense in panicking those people and filling their heads with wild ideas.”

“Wild ideas that might be completely true and accurate,” the deputy said.

“The field of law enforcement is filled with quandaries, Deputy Moon, things that you can’t go by the book about, because there isn’t a book about them.”

Deputy Moon nodded slowly, his face serious. “I don’t always know what you’re talking about, Sheriff, but you are always sincere, and I respect that.”

“That is probably for the best,” Sheriff Strahan said.

***

There is much of being a lawman in a small town that is boring. Rarely are there gunfights in the streets, like a Wild West penny novel. Most of the job involves driving, arresting the same people in the same places breaking the same laws over and over again, and documenting all of those things in painstaking detail.

That’s if you’re a deputy.

The same applies to the position of Sheriff, except it involves reading everyone else’s paperwork while still doing your share of the driving, arresting old friends and filling out reams of new paperwork to go with the old paperwork, which is still piled on a desk, waiting to be read.

Graham’s mistake was opening that top folder of the pile that sat on his desk. Once he did that and started going through the minutiae of reports, signing dotted lines and spotting places where more information was needed, that was it. He reverted to nitpicking mode and the day began to slip by in a reverie of signatures and rubber stamps.

Before Graham knew it, it was four o’clock in the afternoon. His desk was clear. He had done his part for bureaucracy and he was starving. He pushed back from his desk and stood up, his knees cracking. Graham left the office, a fresh blast of air conditioning hitting him in the face before he locked the door behind him.

“I’ll be at The Meal Worm if anyone needs me,” Graham said to Tamara on his way out. “Has anyone needed me today?”

Tamara shook her head. “All quiet on the western front, sir,” she said.

“Huh,” Graham said. “Well, if anyone does, you know where I’ll be.”

Tamara nodded, and Graham left the station. It felt like the temperature was in the mid-eighties. More than likely, it would stay there until late November, when winter would finally settle in hard and fast. Somewhere deep within, the earth was getting ready for that event, and the trees that lined the street were just starting to show the first tinges of color change in the leaves.

Graham fired up his cruiser and started on his way to The Meal Worm.

***

Large Richard, Lucas and Crandall were sitting in their usual seats at the counter when Graham walked into the restaurant. He walked up behind them and clapped Large Richard on the shoulder.

“Don’t you guys have anything else to do besides sit here all day and harass Delores?” Graham asked.

“Guys with dead wives don’t cook, Sheriff,” Large Richard said.

“Don’t clean, neither,” said Crandall.

“Besides, Delores loves us,” Lucas said. “Don’t you, Delores?”

Delores picked up a coffeepot and scowled at all four men before going out on the floor for refill patrol.

“Delores don’t love you, Lucas,” said Large Richard. “You don’t look enough like Santa Claus.”

“Damn right,” said Crandall.

“We all know Mrs. Claus doesn’t get her jollies until Black Friday, when Santa comes to town.”

“Heh,” snickered Lucas. “Comes.”

“Damn right,” said Crandall.

Graham sat down next to Large Richard. These old guys woke up, ate all three meals at The Meal Worm, then went home. They had been following that routine for seven years, since Large Richard’s wife had passed on. They were grumpy and could get a little mean at times, but they heard everything. Those men knew everything that happened in Elders Keep, sometimes, it seemed, before it even occurred. They liked Graham because he was a Keep boy who made good. They didn’t hold those years he spent in the city against him; Graham had come back home to the Keep, and that was all that mattered.

“What’s the special, today, gentlemen?” he asked.