Complicated Matters (3 page)

   “Mom and Dad are dead,” she shrieked. “They think somebody was shooting at something and missed their target. Happy?” The words no sooner left her mouth, than she wished she could swallow them back.

   Alex dropped into a chair. Jess turned pasty and ran into the bathroom slamming the door.

   Farrah was so fixated on Alex, and his interrogation, she forgot about her youngest brother standing only a few feet away. “Jessie! I’m sorry, Jess.” She chased after him. “I am so sorry, Jess.” She cried as she leaned against the bathroom door. “I am so sorry.”

   “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
Hold it. Sheriff Taylor didn’t say yes or no when I asked him about the funeral home. He just said he was sorry.

  
She came back into the kitchen rubbing her face. “Sheriff, I want to talk to you in private. Alex, stay with Jess.” 

   Out on the back porch, she folded her arms and faced the sheriff. “Would you like to tell me what’s really going on?”

   Taylor took a few steps back. “What are you talking about?”

   She clenched her fists and matched his steps. “I’m talking about exploding tractors, dead people with no bodies, and revised wills. Nobody prepares anything that well unless that person knows something’s about to happen. And I don’t believe in freakin’ coincidences. So don’t even try.” She unclenched her fists and dropped her arms to her side. “Now, I am asking again. What in the hell is going on?”

   “I know that you’re hurting, but--” He reached out for her, but she slapped his hand out of the air.

   “Don’t touch me.” She opened the screened in porch’s door made her way down the steps. “If you won’t level with me, I’ll find out by myself.”

   “You can’t go back there!”

   Farrah took one step back up. “Why not?”

   “It’s a crime scene. Only authorized personnel are allowed back there until the investigation is over.”

   “My brothers need me.” She turned and went back into the house.
Try and stop me.

   Chapter 4

   Taylor watched the house from a more hidden location.

   Farrah and her brothers emerged from the house and started the evening chores. They carried buckets to various pens. 

   He could hear chickens cackle and horses whinny. 

   The youngest, Jess, fed and played with the family dog.

   The newly installed sheriff smiled as he watched the Norman Rockwell painting come to life. 

   His laptop beeped. 

   He logged on. “Taylor here.”

   “This is Commander Phillips. How’s it going over there?”

   “I stand out like a pork roast at a
bar mitzvah
, sir. The town’s people look at me as if I have two heads. And the Mathews family--Well, they’re a tough lot.”

   “Have you learned anything yet?”

   “I’ve learned enough to make me question the rationality of this farce. We are putting those kids though hell for nothing.”

   “Your complaints have been noted. What have you learned?”

   “Miss Mathews has been given custody of her brothers in a will written by her parents about the time of her eighteenth birthday. The farm automatically passes from eldest child to eldest child.”

   “I can work with that. Is there anything else?”

   “She doesn’t believe her parents are actually dead. I was able to keep her away from the crime scene today, but I wouldn’t put it past her to go out there when nobody’s around. You had better make sure that scene looks authentic.”

   “It does,” said the commander. “Anything else?” 

   “I don’t think any of them has a clue as to Daniel’s activities. I do know she wasn’t the least bit surprised her parents went armed. She gave me this lame excuse about wild animals, but I’m not buying it.” Taylor continued to watch the family. “I need to hang around the townies and see what I can find out. Staying out here all the time will arouse suspicions.”

   “You need to stay with that family. There are guards at the schools, but the farm is where they’re most vulnerable. Create reasons if you have to. I don’t care what you have to do, but stay close. Their lives are in your hands. Phillips out.”

  
Now ain’t that a boatload of responsibility for one fucked-up cop to handle?
Taylor’s eyelids drooped. He felt himself succumbing to exhaustion. Phillips wanted him to stay close, but what good would that do if he fell asleep? The word, poachers crossed his mind. His brain might be tired, but it still worked. At least, for a few more minutes. He hit his tactical mic and called dispatch. “This is Sheriff Taylor calling dispatch.”

   “Whatcha need, Sheriff?”

   “I’m out here on Old Rocky Ford Road. Some of the farmers have been complaining about something or someone disturbing their animals at night. It’s probably nothing--”

   “But it could be poachers,” the dispatcher interrupted. “I’ll get some Wildlife Enforcement officers out there immediately.”

   “Thank you. Taylor out.” He looked up at the sky. “Thank you for suspicious dispatchers, God. Amen.” 

   He went back to the small sheriff’s house. After a few painkillers and whatever whiskey he managed to swallow straight from the bottle, he prepared for bed and fell asleep on his couch.

   Too many tragedies had befallen his life. His sixteen-year-old brother Rafael had come to a violent end when Taylor was just twelve years old. Their mother sent Raf to the grocery store to buy a gallon of milk. Someone cut his throat during a traffic jam. Hundreds of people around, and no one saw a damn thing.

   He still wrestled with that reality. As a cop, when a perspective witness said, “I didn’t see anything,” Taylor questioned them about the little things. The color of apartment drapes. The shape of the car in front of them. The color of the dog some lady was walking. The minute details just about always triggered something useful. “I saw nothing,” was never an acceptable answer for him.

   He remembered his father screaming about how his eldest son’s life was worth less than five dollars to someone. “Five fuckin’ dollars,” Lonnie Taylor screamed. His wife Sarah, Raf and Taylor’s mother, sobbed on the floor at his feet, in front of some detective in a cheap suit. 

   A Mexican name and blond Irish good looks, made Raf interesting to just about every girl he met. To little Antonio Heath Taylor he was the big brother, the genuine hero, who was never too busy to spend time with him.

   Some repeat drunk decided to go out for another beer and broadsided Taylor’s only love and wife Lianna. Sweethearts since high school, she was the one who kept him focused after all hopes of playing college basketball were dashed. 

   That same year, his beloved Grandmother Serena, his
Abuela
, succumbed to breast cancer. She took with her the spirit of his grandfather Antonio. 

   I really need to call Abuelo and see how he’s doing.
Taylor thought as he drifted off to sleep.
He’d like that.

   Hellish clips from his life invaded his dreams. Waking up in a cold sweat, he gave up on sleep, and put on his uniform.
May as well see what the night life’s like around here.

   He dressed and walked outside. The warm, muggy air made him miss Miami.

   Movement in a back alley got his attention, so he walked down it to investigate. 

   “Meow.” A cat jumped out of a trash can. 

   Taylor laughed when he saw a kid climbing up a ladder to his window only to have to climb down and knock on the front door. The kid’s dad let him in, but screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors. 

   Taylor radioed in, “If someone calls in a domestic disturbance on FDR Drive, tell ‘em I’m already out here.”

   “You got it,” the dispatcher said. Her unorthodox way of doing things amused him.

   *

   Millie’s was a twenty-four hour place, and home to just about every insomniac in Morgansville. Twenty-four seven, people gathered for coffee, food, and gossip.

   Taylor took a seat at the end of the bar.

   A dark haired girl flipping hamburgers glanced over her right shoulder. “What can I get ya, Sheriff?” 

   Taylor had come to know the girl as Chris. “Do you handle this shift by yourself every night?” 
             

   “Why?” she laughed. You lookin’ for a second job?” Even the florescent lights in the diner couldn’t dim the sparkle in her big, brown eyes. She was perky and cute, with whit as sharp as a razor. 

   It amazed him how a white woman could remind him so much of his dear, sweet, funny Lianna. Physical appearances and accents had nothing to do with it. They possessed the same soul.  “I guess it never hurts to have two.” He joked back with her. “I’ll take some coffee when you get the time.”

   “Are you hungry?” She set a mug of fresh coffee in front of him along with a spoon and a small cup of fresh milk. “Sheriff Daniels, always ate here for free.” 

   “Thanks, but coffee is all I can handle for now.” He planted himself on a barstool and muddled through the early morning hours while the radio blasted country hits and classics. 

   It seemed odd what people would talk about in a public place. He learned everything from who was sleeping with whom, to who was dealing drugs and making moonshine. 

   No one here knew anything about Daniels’ business. If they did, he’d know about it by now. He did make a mental to raid the meth-lab on Johnson-Hendry Lane, and to pay more attention to the goings on behind the carwash at the Jiffy Mart.

   He checked his watch. A few minutes before six o’clock
.
Daylight was breaking through. “Thanks, Chris.” He made sure she saw him leave a dollar bill under his coffee mug.

   She cleaned the counter. “Be careful, Sheriff.” 

   “Hey, Flo.” Taylor checked in with the Sheriff’s office. “What’s going on?”

   “You should spend the weekend hanging around the high school. The graduation hoopla is going on and there might be trouble.”

   “Is the sheriff usually a visible fixture at such functions around here?” Taylor tried to figure out if she was passing him a message, or simply being helpful.

   She kept working on her computer. “Strictly low profile.” 

   He refilled her coffee cup. “You’re the boss.” 

   She faked a toast. “And don’t you forget it.” 

   Chapter 5

   Farrah stared at her coffee as Alex wondered in to the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

   He poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Aren’t you going to graduation practice?” 

   “How can I?” Earlier that morning, she searched the sight of the accident, but found no signs that their parents were still alive.

   “How can you not? Mom and Dad worked their asses off to get you through school, and you are not going to let them down.” He gulped down his orange juice. “I’ll wake up Jess, and we’ll all go together.”

   Everyday life made no sense to Farrah. “I can’t. It isn’t right.”

   “We don’t have a choice.” He set his glass down on the table hard enough to rattle Farrah’s spoon. “Now get yourself together. I’ll get Jess. The relatives are coming in this weekend.” Alex started to leave the room, but he turned back toward his sister. “I know it’s hard, but we’ll get through this together. Now do it for Mom and Dad.”

   “Okay.” Farrah stared at her brother. “For Mom and Dad.”

   She stayed up all night wondering how she was going to tell her basketball coach, and the rest of the town, she called Duke University and informed them of her intent to decline their scholarship. It wasn’t easy. They reminded her she signed a contract. Once she explained her circumstances, they understood and wished her luck. 

   An historical, three student athletes received full scholarships this year. The county even planned a publicity campaign around them. The slogan:
Morgansville High. The makers of champions.

   The pressure was enormous. Apprehension about her decision public made her keep quiet about it. Now, she had to tell them. Her mind focused on her speech all the way to the school.

   “You two stay out of trouble.” She slipped into her dress shoes before getting out of their mom’s minivan. “I have to join the class. With any luck at all, this practice will end soon.”

   “We got this.” Alex hugged her. “You try and enjoy the excitement. After all, this is the prelude to your big night.”

  
Big night full of excitement.
Farrah made her way backstage.
The attack on Pearl Harbor was a big night full of excitement too.
She frowned.
Look how that turned out.

   Everyone seemed drunk on nostalgia. People cried and hugged each other, and signed yearbooks, a few people even said goodbye to their lockers.

   A few whispered and stared as Farrah took her place in the graduation line.

   Principle Madison was saying something about proceeding down this walkway or that and accepting diplomas with a smile so people could take pictures.