Full Circle (23 page)

The doctors gave Josie her medical release to return to work after eleven days of home rest. She and Jack were still tiptoeing around their living-together relationship. Some days were easier than others, but being in another person's company 24/7 was a new experience for both of them. Some days there was a lot of yelling. Jack had a tendency to scold, a reactionary need to control, and she had lost count on how many times he'd whacked her on the ass out of pure frustration. He could also be incredibly gentle, insightful, and understanding. She wasn't so sure her nature was as accepting. While he moved and shifted with the flow of living together, modifying and readjusting, she tended to be more rigid and inflexible. It was a day-to-day lesson in patience. Patience had never been one of her strong points.

Jack didn't want her to return to work yet. He thought it was too soon. He also didn't want her to take the sheriff's badge back again. Josie reminded him that the doctors had cleared her to work, and she had come up with an idea she hoped would relieve her of sheriff's duty permanently.

She had a horrific Technicolor eye and cheek, but the bruises would eventually fade away. Most importantly, her vision checked out at 20/20. She'd also learned something while gone from the office. Sometimes you had to push people hard to get them to step out of their comfort zone. That's what happened with Deputy Clay Tucker. Clay had stepped up to perform the job. With Sheriff Malone out of commission for at least six months to a year and her hurt, Clay had finally stepped forward and taken on the responsibility of the job. Maybe there was a bit of unnecessary guilt mixed in on his part because she'd been hurt, but she didn't care how it came about. Clay Tucker had stepped up to the role, and he was doing a good job of it. She was not going to relieve him of the post.

She reported to work and ironically called Clay into what was now his office. She explained that, until further notice, he was the sheriff. She was not taking back the badge or any responsibilities involved with keeping the peace. What she was going to do was move into a smaller office currently used for extra storage where she would set up shop to get the sheriff's department ready for the state inspection. She was going to move the pertinent file cabinets into the little office and get busy. When Clay protested, she told him it was the only solution. She wasn't up to running the day-to-day operations of the department, but she was up to running a computer and putting a five-year backlog of reports and information into the computer programs. If they failed the state inspection, the state would send out someone to run the Rawlings' office until the office could pass. No one wanted that to happen. Rawlings people needed to handle Rawlings business, not outsiders. Josie figured this was her way of easing herself out of the job.

Josie went back to work. She didn't wear her uniform or her badge, but she was able to keep her eye on the daily work without offering up advice very often.

Jack was busy retrofitting the upstairs over the carriage house as his office, which meant upgrading the electrical requirements again this time to handle several high-end computers and printers with CAD programs and wiring the space for state-of-art networking. In addition to his classroom fostering lessons, he was also taking on-line classes available on the social services website.

In his business life, he researched the latest developments in architecture and spent time on the road checking out various existing enterprises in the area. He was not sure yet which way his life was going to bend.

Financially, Jack was in good shape. Nearly twenty years of living in navy housing, banking re-enlistment bonuses and combat pay had netted him a substantial savings account. Investing those savings with a former Navy SEAL who retired to become a financial guru had netted him some healthy profits. His inheritance from his parents was intact and was no small amount although he'd never touched it. He was not in Josie's financial bracket, but he was not a poor man either. He was financially stable and had enough to start a business if that was the direction he wanted to take. He owned a lot of land that was currently leased to his neighboring ranchers. Since he didn't want or need the land, he had a choice to continue leasing it or to sell it outright. He didn't feel comfortable with the idea of selling the land. His ancestors had sought and fought for the land over many generations. It was his legacy. Even if he weren't inclined to use it, perhaps someday he would have a son or daughter who would want to return to the land. It was a piece of his heritage, and he wasn't willing to sell it off unless it was necessary.

Beyond his initial donations of cash from his grandfather's estate to worthy organizations, a team of lawyers, under Jack's guidance, had dismantled all the trappings of Amos's unholy wealth. He had sold off side businesses, mansions, antique cars and furnishings, and art collections.

While dismantling his grandfather's religious dynasty, the attorneys had discovered a major scam for donations relating to promises to build a Children's hospital. The donations had poured in from his believers, but there was no evidence of any intention to build a hospital. The net receipts from selling off Amos's collections were in the millions, and now many children would be provided for at a well-known Children's hospital that specialized in cancer treatments.

The lawyers thought he was crazy. But to his way of thinking, if Jack had spent one penny of Amos's money for himself, he would have felt as dirty and dishonest as his grandfather. It had all been easy, except for the antique cars. As much as he hated to admit it, giving up those beautifully restored cars had tested him. Those cars were every man's fantasy.

In the end, though, his conscience wouldn't let him do it. He turned his back on them and given the order to auction them off. It was impossible to return the donations to the actual people who had given them. One of Amos's sidekicks had made sure to destroy a great many files before the offices had been locked down. The best he could do was give the money where it would be used in the best way possible. Amos had scammed his followers to pay for a hospital, now his money would help children in the hospital. Jack was now finished with that part of his life, and he was glad for it.

Jack knew he had to stay busy and couldn't retire completely even though he'd retired from the Navy. He wanted to build a future with Josie and to him that meant he needed to be able to support their future. He was not a man who could live off a woman. His military pension was a nice cushion, but he was also too young to be unproductive. He'd never spent much time in the past thinking about the future, but this was his chance to build something. He was still young enough to resurrect his long-forgotten dream and make it a reality.

Josie dove into her project as she did everything—with gusto and determination. The first order of business was organization and checklists. Her first day back, she talked with Georgina and explained she was only there to get the office ready for inspection. She was not there for consultation on the day-to-day running of the office. All inquiries and decisions were to go through Clay Tucker. Josie knew Georgina would pass that word along to the other deputies. It took two days for the news to filter over to the mayor's office that Josie was back at work. Knee deep in piles of reports and paperwork, she was not happy when Aiden Roland breached her sanctuary.

"Josie, you're back!" the mayor exclaimed. "I'm glad, maybe now something will get done around here."

"I'm only here to help the office get ready for the state inspection, Aiden," Josie said. "Clay Tucker is the sheriff now, and he's doing a fine job of it."

Aiden picked up a stack of files from a chair and looked around for somewhere else to set them. At Josie's frown, he put the files back on the chair and impatiently paced around the room. "Josie, we need you back as sheriff. Clay has been doing an okay job, but we need you. I want you to solve these murders. I'll even appoint you a special task force and let Clay continue being sheriff. We need to solve this crime."

Josie leaned back in her chair. "Aiden, the homicide investigation is being directed by the FBI with a task force of highly specialized investigators, detectives, and forensic specialists. I can't go nosing around their turf."

"Josie, think what it would mean if a small-town sheriff solved a crime the Feds couldn't solve," Aiden exclaimed. "It could put this town on the map!"

"It could mean a charge of obstruction, and possibility some jail time. Solving the murders is a federal case. It's not a good idea to step on Agency or State toes unless you want big trouble. Besides, I don't have any new information or leads, and even if I did, I'd turn them over to Agent Coulter."

"But, Josie!"

"Aiden, this isn't a CSI television show. You can't solve serious crimes in an hour using technology that may look real, but doesn't exist yet. You have to follow the law to the letter. You can't have any shortcuts or screw-ups. Crime solving involves thorough documentation and following processes, using the proper warrants and going through departmental procedures. If you don't, the criminals walk on technicalities. A murder investigation isn't a publicity game to boost your ego or to put this town on the map for heinous crimes. I can think of a lot more positive things to bring people to our town besides murder.

"I came back to do one job and one job only. That is to get this department ready for the state inspection. Sheriff Bowles left these files in a mess. The paperwork is all here—somewhere. I have to find all the parts and pieces, and put them in some semblance of order. I have to enter all this information into a database ready to spit out reports on a second's notice. I have my hands full. I neither have the time nor the authority to go on the hunt for a serial killer simply because you want to play some game of one-up against the Feds."

"That's not what I want, but this crime was done in Rawlings. We should be able to solve it," Aiden protested.

"
We
," Josie said wearily. "Exactly who is
we
.
We
don't have the required authority, manpower, expertise or equipment to pull off such a stunt. The most modern things in this office are our computers, and they are already outdated. You balked at the price of a new printer/scanner machine that we desperately needed. You balk at the costs every time we need repairs over here. Go back to your office, Aiden. Go through this year's recommendations for equipment and program upgrades that are needed to bring this office up-to-date with the rest of the law enforcement world. Make those decisions and keep Sheriff Clay Tucker in the loop.

"If you piss me off Aiden, I will walk. This office won't pass the state inspection and this department, and this town, will be in one hell of a mess. If that happens, I guarantee the blame is going to fall on you this time. Now let me get back to doing something useful."

The mayor left her office, grumbling about his intentions being misunderstood.

Clay Tucker was doing a good job as sheriff and Josie let him do it. It was not always easy, especially when she would have handled something differently. She was finding that it was hard to turn over the duties, but she clamped her jaws shut, and kept her head down and buried in paperwork. If she did not want the job, she had to let Clay do it without her interference.

The only problem was Josie wasn't used to staying in an office all day, and the job she was doing was tedious and boring. She enlisted Georgina for some of the database inputs, which was a help, but the overall job was monotonous. She was stuck in that little office and although it was a self-imposed prison, she didn't like it.

Rawlings settled back into its normal laid-back pace. The last of the reporters left the motel, and no one hung around asking questions. Clay Tucker gradually assumed all the sheriff's duties. He was already well known and respected in town, so it was a smooth transition. Clay was a patient man with a gentle way about him that naturally calmed people.

The biggest crime handled that week by the department was a break in at the elementary school where someone jammed nickels into the lock mechanisms on the lockers. A little detective work and Sheriff Tucker apprehended the offenders. He and the school principal handled their questioning and decided on a suitable punishment in agreement with the culprits parents'. Justice was simple in Rawlings, and the law didn't usually involve itself in family disciplinary actions.

One morning, Josie got a surprise visit from Agent Bill Coulter. He was on his way to Albuquerque and stopped by to give her an update. Except there were no updates. He handed a package off to her and was on his way in a matter of minutes.

Josie opened the package to find profiles of the victims, before and after photographs, a timeline and a preliminary profile of the killer. It was basic to say the least. Any first-year detective could have come up with the textbook psychological profile. There were no leads. Whoever had murdered those women left no clues to follow other than fingerprints and DNA, and without a match in the system, they were worthless. Fingerprints and DNA were valuable tools in crime solving, but there had to be something in the databases to match them. Unless there were some reasonable suspicions, the law couldn't request fingerprints or DNA samples.

The case was out of Josie's jurisdiction and out of her control, but her mind wandered as she worked through the massive yet tedious undertaking of preparing for an inspection. In a moment of exasperation with the endless paperwork, checks and crosschecks, she picked up the package from Agent Coulter and opened it again. She pulled a plastic-coated grid board from behind a filing cabinet and systematically posted the six 3x5 photographs on the board, assembling them in order, writing down the ages, dates of birth, dates reported missing, and estimated dates of death. She noted their professions and any other tidbits of available information. She tacked the board on the back of her door. She would know it was there, but it would remain hidden unless someone closed the door while in her office.