Murder at the Courthouse (20 page)

“I don't remember.” That was a memory he fervently wished he hadn't lost.

“I know.” She sounded almost sad.

“When you were trying to help me remember things later, why didn't you tell me?”

“I don't know.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the steps. “By the next summer, everything was different. We weren't kids anymore.”

“Did you ever say yes?”

“I don't remember.” The corners of Alex's lips turned up as she looked out at the lake again. “Maybe the first time when we were six.”

With his fingers on her chin, Michael gently turned her face back around until he could see her eyes in the moonlight. “And did we ever kiss?”

“A few little kid pecks. We were very young.”

“Kid pecks? I don't remember. Show me what you mean.” Michael moved closer to her. She leaned toward him, her lips incredibly warm and soft on his. Then his arms were around her, pulling her tight against him as his heart pounded till he thought it would explode inside him. At last, with effort, he made himself pull back and look down at her face. “We must have been pretty wild kids.”

She laughed the way he'd hoped she would. He was about to pull her close again when Anthony stepped out on the deck behind them.

“Hey, Deputy, give me your keys, and I'll get lost.”

Alex laughed again, not a bit embarrassed now as she
extricated herself from Michael's embrace. “Don't worry about it, Anthony, the deputy and I were merely reminiscing about when we were kids.”

“Some kids,” Anthony said.

“Yeah, we were.” Alex gave Michael's cheek a feather touch with her fingers that felt too much like goodbye as she stood up. “But all that was a long time ago. Another world almost.”

Michael followed her back into the house, where she collected her briefcase and purse. “Maybe I should follow you out.”

“Don't be silly. I'll be fine.” She waved her hand as though to brush aside his worry. She flashed Anthony another smile that made the color spill into the boy's cheeks. “Good to meet you, Anthony. Keep in mind that for the right causes, I waive my retainer fee.”

“Great to know.” Anthony trailed her to the door like a puppy dog.

Michael pointed toward the couch with a warning look. “Stay put or you might really need a lawyer.”

Anthony's shoulders slumped, the sullen look back on his face. “Where do you think I'm gonna go? Swimming?”

“Not something I would advise.” Michael stared the boy down.

Alex reached over and touched Anthony's arm. “Hey, the deputy's not so bad. You can put up with his company for one night.”

“Like I have a choice.” Anthony went back to the couch and plopped down hard enough to break some springs.

Michael ignored him and followed Alex out of the house. When they were off the porch, he said, “I had more questions.”

“About when we were kids?”

“That was a good question.” A little tremble went through him at the thought of kissing her again, but that moment had passed. She wouldn't welcome his kiss now. “I wouldn't mind asking some more like that, but no, I wanted to see what you thought about the murders. I was hoping you might see something I haven't.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “I'll help any way I can. You know that, but it's late tonight. How about coffee at Uncle Reece's at ten tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

“Like old times, only it used to be Aunt Adele's lemonade.” She smiled and then grew serious again. “But I have the feeling I'm not going to be able to help you. I think this is one of those things you're going to have to dig down through the layer of years to figure out, and to do that, you need someone who knows what's been going on.”

“Reece?”

“He might be a good place to start, but it could be you may be able to come up with some of the answers yourself. If you're not afraid to confront the questions.” She kept her eyes on his face as she shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other.

“I don't know what you mean.” Michael frowned.

“You don't want anybody here in Hidden Springs to be a murderer. None of us do. But because of that, you may be overlooking something.”

“What?”

“I don't know.” She opened her car door to place her briefcase and purse on the front seat. Then she straightened back up to peek around him toward the house. “But I advise you to keep an eye on Anthony, because even if you've missed it, I don't think he has.”

Michael glanced over his shoulder. The kid was at the door watching them. “You could be right.”

“Always.” She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek quickly. “There. That's the kid peck.”

“I liked the other demonstration better.” It was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms.

“I'll bet you did.” Again her laugh sent sweet shivers up Michael's back. “But you caught me at a weak moment. It won't happen again.” She got in her car and lowered her window. “Tomorrow at ten. I'll bake muffins.”

“That's a scary thought.”

“Worry not. I'll buy a mix.” Another laugh and she was gone.

After her lights disappeared up the lane, he called Jasper and held the door open for him to go in.

The dog made a beeline for Anthony, who reached out to ruffle the dog's ears. He almost smiled but then caught himself. He pushed Jasper away to sit down on the couch. With a sly look up at Michael, he asked, “How much is my silence worth to you?”

“Silence?” Michael pulled a couple of blankets out of the hall closet and piled them on the couch. “I think talk is what I've been wanting out of you.”

“I mean about tonight. I could go by and see Reverend Allison. She's been after me to come to her youth group.”

When Michael laughed, the kid couldn't hide his surprise. “Tell her whatever you want.” Michael pitched him a pillow. “Now take off your jeans and shoes and go to bed.”

“I'm going to sleep in my clothes.”

“Sure thing. Except for your jeans and shoes. I'll hang on to them till morning.” Michael held out his hand. “And Jasper barks anytime something rattles a door. Great watchdog.”

“I'm not going nowhere, Deputy.”

“Not without your shoes and jeans.” Michael kept his hand reached out.

Anthony glared at him a minute, then shrugged. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and handed them to Michael.

The kid went to sleep right away. Michael could hear his low steady breathing, but sleep was a long time coming for Michael. He kept thinking about what Alex said about how he might know something that could point to the murderer. He replayed every word Joe had said to him, but there was nothing there. He went over in his mind the morning he'd found Rayburn on the steps, when things were still more exciting than threatening.

He cataloged the few bits of evidence they had. Paul was right about one thing. It would help to find the gun. Michael had read the ballistics report, but maybe he'd missed something. It had come in after he found Joe, and his mind might not have been as clear as it needed to be.

Somehow in spite of the odds, it was all connected. It had to be. Even Roxanne in the lake all these years. Was that the secret somebody would do anything to keep from revealing? But Rayburn hadn't known that. He may have suspected someone had killed her, but if he'd known how, he wouldn't have waited all these years to tell. It was the secret before that. The secret that might be the reason Roxanne ended up in the lake. That's the secret he had to dig out.

The phone woke Michael the next morning a few minutes before six thirty. As he grabbed it to jab the on button, he got up to look through his bedroom door at the couch. Anthony hadn't moved since the last time he'd checked around five.

The judge's voice boomed in his ear. “I told that pretty Alexandria Sheridan to tell you to call me when you got home. How come you didn't?”

“It was late. I thought it could wait until morning.” Michael wanted to add that it could have waited until a little later in the morning, but he didn't. Michael kept his voice low. “You talked to the sheriff, didn't you?”

“He says they found Roxanne's car in the lake and her in it.” The judge's voice went down to an almost normal level.

“That's what it looks like.”

“After all these years.” The judge was silent a moment. “Did the boy tell you where to look?”

“The boy? You mean Anthony?” Michael shook his head to clear out the remaining cobwebs of sleep.

“Somebody had to tell you. If it wasn't him, who was it?”

“Nobody told us anything. It was just blind luck.” Michael
rubbed Jasper when the dog pushed his head up against Michael's hand.

“Luck?” the judge echoed. “I don't believe in luck, Michael.”

“Didn't Sheriff Potter tell you? Paul had us out there searching for the murder weapon when the divers found the car.”

“The murder weapon? Al didn't say anything about a murder weapon. You're not making any sense, Michael.” The judge's voice got louder and Michael pushed the phone tighter against his ear to keep the sound from leaking out into the room.

“Look, Judge, it's a fact that not much is making sense, but I don't think we're going to be able to figure it out over the phone. I'll come by to see you later. Could be you can help me get the straight of it all. You remember when Roxanne disappeared, don't you?”

Again the line hummed with silence for a moment. Then he said, “Of course I remember. But all I remember is that she up and disappeared.”

“Can you think of anybody who might have had reason to want her to disappear?”

“What are you trying to say? That somebody pushed Roxanne into the lake?” The judge didn't wait for an answer. “Look here, Michael, it's not going to do any of us the first bit of good to search for a bogeyman behind every bush. It was probably just an accident.”

“Maybe so, sir, but things aren't adding up. Since Rayburn knew Roxanne, you have to wonder if it's all somehow connected.”

“What makes you think Rayburn knew Roxanne?”

“He told Anthony.”

“Are you sure about that?” the judge said.

“I'm sure.”

“That does give the whole thing a new wrinkle.” The judge huffed out a breath. “Could be Rayburn told the kid he was the one to push Roxanne's car into the lake and so the kid shot him.”

On the couch, Anthony still hadn't moved, but now his eyes were open, staring at Michael. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Well, you better think about it and you better keep an eye on that boy. Who knows what he might do next?”

“Don't worry, Judge. I'll take care of it.”

“Just see that you do before somebody else turns up dead.” With that the judge broke off the connection without even saying goodbye.

Michael punched the off button.

Anthony sat up. “Sort of early for the judge to be calling, isn't it? Or does he give you marching orders every morning?”

Michael didn't bother answering as he let Jasper outside and then waited for the dog to come back in before he headed for the bathroom. He looked at the shower longingly but settled for a cold splash of water in his face. No need giving Anthony time to slip out the door and hot-wire the cruiser.

He toyed with the idea of letting Burton lock the kid up in the jail. It wasn't as if he and Anthony were ever going to be on any kind of friendly terms no matter what he did. Michael simply needed to make sure he was out of harm's way until he figured out who the murderer was. The jail would do fine.

But then when Michael came out of the bathroom, Jasper was leaning against the kid's legs while Anthony stared at what was left of the little car. His cheeks were wet with tears.

The boy dashed them away. “I guess you're right, Deputy. I ain't so tough after all.” When Jasper nudged Anthony's arm, the kid stroked the dog's head a couple of times. When he pulled his hand away, Jasper curled up on the floor by his feet.

“She was your mother.”

Anthony looked down and pushed the little car across his bare thigh. “When I was a little kid, every day I woke up, I thought that would be the day she came back. She'd have some big story about why she left. I never could think of any story good enough, but I knew she'd have one. Then when I got older, I gave up on her coming back, but there was always that feeling that she might, you know.” He was quiet a minute before he went on. “I guess I can be sure it won't ever happen now.”

Michael took a step toward Anthony, but stopped. “It's better to know.”

The words echoed in his head. Aunt Lindy must have told him the same thing a thousand times as he tiptoed around the blackness, not sure whether he wanted to plunge in to pull out another lost memory.

Anthony stared up at him with challenge in his eyes. “Knowing stuff sometimes gets people killed.”

“It does.” Michael met his look fully. “Especially when they don't tell anyone what they know.”

“I don't know about that. Rayburn told and he died.”

“Joe didn't tell and he died.”

“Looks like we're down to the tiebreaker. I guess we'll see which one of us is right.” Anthony stood up and stretched.

“So it seems.”

When Jasper scrambled up beside Anthony, the kid's face softened a bare bit. He ran his hand all the way down Jasper's back.

“You want to feed him?”

After a second's hesitation, Anthony stepped away from the dog. “Nah. He's your dog. You feed him.”

“All right.” Michael filled the dog's dish.

Anthony watched the dog eat for a minute, then said, “How about giving me back my jeans? I'm hungry, so I promise not to run away till after breakfast. Besides, it's not all that bad out here. Beats Aunt Vera's. Somebody's always yelling at somebody around there in the morning.”

Michael picked up the jeans and pitched them toward him. “Take a shower if you want. Towels are on the shelf. But I'm afraid all I've got for breakfast are frozen waffles and cornflakes.”

“That Miss Sheridan's toast and eggs sound better.”

“She probably burns the toast.”

“Yeah, maybe. But burned toast isn't that bad.” Anthony laughed as he headed for the bathroom.

A couple of hours later, Michael unlocked the sheriff's office with Anthony still in tow.

“Looks like you're the only dedicated employee here today, Deputy.” Anthony looked down the empty hallway. “I'll bet you even work on Sundays.”

“Sometimes. Now be quiet for a while. I've got to look up some things.”

“You still haven't figured things out, have you, Deputy?”

“One thing.” Michael looked at him. “You talk a lot not to ever say much.”

“Okay, okay. I'll just sit over here and count the little holes in the ceiling tile.”

Michael's cell phone rang before he could make his first call. It was the sheriff tracking him down. “Justin says there
isn't much doubt the remains we pulled out of the lake yesterday belong to Roxanne.”

When Michael made a sound of agreement, the sheriff went on. “You let the kid go home yet?”

“Not yet.”

“He tell you anything?”

“Not yet.”

“You need to send him on home. The little twerp might bring some kind of harassment charges against the county and then what?”

“He'll be alive to bring them.” Michael stared over at Anthony, who was pretending not to listen.

“Now, Mike, nobody's going to kill that kid.” The sheriff sounded irritated. “What purpose would there be in that?”

“I don't know.”

“Just do what I say, and we'll talk about it later. The state's sending some people in to poke around on Monday, and I don't want them to find anything out of the way to jump on.”

“Whatever you say, Sheriff.” Michael would figure out an excuse later for ignoring his orders. He changed the subject. “You heard from Paul this morning? Yesterday Hank said they weren't sure he was going to pull through.”

“You don't say? I haven't talked to the chief for a couple of days. Guess you'd better check up on him when you get a chance.”

Anthony watched him put down the phone. “You don't look too happy, Deputy.”

“You can sit there and be quiet or see how you like it up in jail.”

“Jail don't scare me.”

Michael ignored him while he tried to track down Buck, but without luck. He wasn't surprised.

Next he called Chief Sibley. When he didn't answer, Michael called the hospital, where a nurse in the intensive care unit said Paul's condition had been upgraded from critical to serious. That was all the information she was allowed to give out concerning Mr. Osgood's medical condition.

Lester called in to say his mother wanted him to mow the yard, but if Michael needed him for anything, the grass could wait. Michael looked at Anthony and considered bringing Lester in to watch the boy, but in all likelihood, Anthony could lose Lester in two minutes flat. So he told Lester to make his mother happy and mow the yard.

Alex called to say she was stirring up the muffins and should she plan on Anthony's appetite too?

“I guess you better, and why don't you see if Aunt Lindy will come over?”

“This is sounding more and more romantic.” Alex laughed. “How about I ask the judge and Miss June too?”

“Do you have enough muffins?”

“Well, no, but I can send Uncle Reece down to the grocery to pick up some high-calorie, fat-laden sticky buns.”

“Sounds perfect. I've got a couple of things to do here and then we'll be on over.”

“How about Karen? Maybe I should call her since everybody else is coming.”

“I doubt she knows much about when Roxanne disappeared. She's only been in Hidden Springs a couple of years, but hey, if you want to ask her, Aunt Lindy has her number.”

With another laugh, Alex hung up.

Michael ignored Anthony's attempts to needle him and
concentrated on the ballistics report on the bullet that had killed Rayburn. Something about the report kept bugging him. He finally spotted what it was at the bottom of the report. A matching ballistics report was already on file in the computer. Michael stared at the code, and didn't know how he could have missed it. That other report had been filed from this office.

Michael eyed the computer on his desk like the opponent it was. Betty Jean could pull up that old report from the database in four or five clicks of her mouse. Michael might do the same in an hour, but what the report said wouldn't matter that much. What he needed to know was where the gun was now. First place to check was the evidence room.

After he fished the key out of Betty Jean's desk drawer, he gave Anthony a hard look. “You stay put or else.”

“Or else what?”

“You don't want to know.”

Anthony shrugged. “I can stick around a little longer, I guess.” He slouched down in the chair and closed his eyes. “I'll just take a little nap here while you finish up business.”

“Good idea.” Michael stepped across the office to unlock the evidence room. With the door propped open, he could keep an eye on Anthony.

Five Saturday night specials were lined up on the shelf with tags indicating the files that told their stories. Four of them were covered with the fine dust that filtered around in the old courthouse and settled on everything that wasn't periodically moved. No dust was on the fifth one, an old Smith & Wesson.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Michael slid a pencil in the barrel of the gun to carry it back to his desk. The suspect list had just shortened.

“Hey, Deputy, you don't look so hot.” Anthony sat up straight and stared at him. “You aren't about to end it all, are you? I mean, if you are, let me go out in the hall first, okay?”

“You're all heart, kid.” Michael didn't even glance over at him. He kept his eyes on the gun and clicked over in his mind the people with keys to the office. Him, Betty Jean, the sheriff, Lester, Roy.

What was it Roy had said after Rayburn's body had been found? That his keys weren't on the right hook in the supply closet. That lengthened the suspect list to just about everybody in the courthouse. Not a list Michael liked considering.

“Is that the gun that did in that Rayburn guy?” Anthony peered over at the gun.

“What makes you think that?”

Anthony didn't answer. Instead he laughed. “Pretty smart, huh? Borrowing a gun from the sheriff.”

“What makes you think this is the murder weapon?” Michael repeated his question, his eyes boring into Anthony's face.

“I know things.” Anthony looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“The only way you could know that is if you were the one to use the gun and then put it back.” Michael didn't let his stare waver from the boy's face. “Maybe that's why you've been hanging around the courthouse. Waiting to sneak in here and put the gun back.”

“You know that didn't happen.” The corners of Anthony's lips turned up a little. “How could I have gotten the gun in the first place?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

“I guess I'm going to have to, since you obviously can't
figure it out. You see, it's like this. I came this close to seeing Rayburn get it on the steps out front.” Anthony held his thumb and finger about an inch apart. “Whoever shot him went back into the courthouse.”