Imperfect Justice (20 page)

Read Imperfect Justice Online

Authors: Olivia Jaymes

Tags: #Romance, #Western, #Contemporary, #Erotica, #Sheriff

BOOK: Imperfect Justice
3.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Thanks, Ron. Hopefully this will lead us to the killer. Anything else you can tell me?”

“No defensive wounds. They either took him by surprise or he didn’t think they were a threat. I’m assuming from what I see that he was shot while facing his killer but I’ll need to confirm that. Your deputy has the victim’s personal effects.”

“Thanks, Ron. I’ll leave you to finish.”

The man nodded as Jared stood and walked over to Chris and the two ranch hands. Both of them looked a little sick but then this was a grisly discovery neither one of them had been expecting. Jared had seen the men in town and neither one of them was a hellraiser. If they had been he would know much more about them.

“Gentleman.” Jared nodded politely as he stepped into the conversation. “Thank you for calling the authorities about this.”

The shorter one clutched his hat in his hand more tightly. “No problem, Sheriff. Tom and I were just coming out here to the far pasture to check things out. From a distance we thought it was a dead cow. Didn’t realize what it was until we were right up on it.”

“Did either one of you touch the body?”

“No, sir.” The one named Tom shook his head vigorously. “We could tell he was good and dead.”

That he was. After being shot in the chest a couple of times Boyd Hicks probably didn’t linger in this world long. Jared put his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Let me read their statements when you’re done.”

“Will do,” Chris agreed. “We’re almost finished.”

The coroner was zipping up the body bag as Deputy Knox arrived at the scene. “What can I do?”

Jared pointed to an area of the pasture where the snow was packed down hard and hadn’t melted due to the shade of a tree. “There’s tire tracks over there. Take some pictures and get an impression so we can try and match it to a vehicle. Len Hawkins doesn’t use trucks all the way up here and they don’t look right for ATV tires. I’m hoping we can match those tracks to the killer’s vehicle. And when you get back to the office, call the warden at the prison. I want to know if he was ever in any violent altercations with other prisoners. Maybe somebody had a vendetta against him. In fact, just request his whole file.”

“I’m on it. What about Dale Hicks?” Knox asked.

“I’m definitely going to be talking to him again considering he admitted that he and his brother were on the outs. It’s going to be hard to nail down time of death for an alibi check though.”

His deputies tasked, Jared began the laborious process of combing the area for any other clues. Hopefully the cigarette butt and tracks would be the key but anything else they could find would help. He should call Misty and let her know not to wait dinner for him. It looked like it was going to be a long day.

Rayne had graciously offered to drive Misty home from the mall when Jared had been called out. He’d been wearing a grim expression when he’d left, telling her he might be late. From the conversation she knew that someone had been murdered and the body had been found in a pasture. It was frightening to think there was a killer walking around Fielding and no one knew who it was.

She hung up her new clothes and stowed the bags and boxes in the garage. She shouldn’t have given Jared such a hard time about buying her things but his spending money on her went against the grain. She’d always taken care of herself. However she couldn’t deny the thrill she’d received when she’d look in the mirror as she was trying them on. She’d looked…nice.

Settling down on the couch with her sketchbook, she lost herself in her drawings until she heard a thump on the front porch. She hopped up and scrambled to the door, hoping it was Jared. Already the sun was beginning to set in the west and soon it would be pitch black outside.

Pushing the front door open, she stuck her head outside and saw what had made the sound. Gerald Monroe was sitting in one of the rocking chairs not saying anything, just staring out into the quiet early evening.

“Mr. Monroe,” Misty began tentatively. “Aren’t you cold out here?”

He turned to her and for a moment she thought he didn’t recognize her. But then his expression cleared and he shook his head. “It’s warm today.”

“But getting colder. The sun will be down soon and you’ll freeze out here. Why don’t you come inside and let me fix you some hot chocolate. We have marshmallows.”

The same instinct that had made her pull over that night when Jared was slumped in front of the B&B was urging her on now. Gerald Monroe looked lost and sad. Something inside of her wanted to make it better. Of course she hadn’t been able to make it better for her own mother. Every time Misty had sobered up Annette her mother would promise to never drink again, but within a few days she’d be doing it again. Nothing Misty had done made any difference.

The older man hesitated and then stood to follow her into the house. He settled into a kitchen chair while she retrieved a sauce pan from the cabinet and some milk from the refrigerator.

“I don’t remember your name,” he finally said as she stirred the liquid that was beginning to steam. “I forget things now that I didn’t used to. I like to go for walks but sometimes I get turned around. That’s why I was sitting on your front porch.”

“My name is Misty,” she answered, her heart twisting in her chest for this proud man to have to admit that. “Misty Foster. My mother was Annette Foster. I live here with Jared.”

“I remember that. You’re having a baby but you won’t marry him.” Gerald smiled. “That must have been a shock for him. He’s never had too much trouble with the womenfolk before. I bet he thought he’d be able to pick and choose.”

“I think I did surprise him,” Misty agreed, adding the cocoa and sugar. “What was Jared like when he was younger?”

“Bossy,” the old man laughed. “Even then he liked to tell people what to do. Don’t let him steamroll you into doing everything his way. Otherwise known as the right way. According to him.”

Misty giggled and poured the hot chocolate, added marshmallows, and carried the two mugs over to the table. She set one in front of Gerald and set the other across from him where she sat down.

“He does like things a certain way, doesn’t he? He has all his shoes lined up in the closet from lightest to darkest. His clothes too.”

The old man pulled a face. “That’s my fault. I was in the military and I taught all my kids to do the same. I didn’t like chaos in the house which is almost constant when you have four children.”

“I guess you and Jared are a lot alike,” she said, watching Gerald’s expression closely. She was aware that Royce was his favorite. At least Jared and Ty thought so.

The older man scowled. “He treats me like I’m sick. Hell, they all do. I’m not sick. I just have trouble remembering things.” He wrapped his hands around the mug. “You know what the funny thing is? I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night. I couldn’t remember your name. But I can remember the summer of 1976 like it was yesterday. Isn’t that strange?”

“Was that a good year?” Misty sipped the hot liquid, letting it warm up her stomach. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Gerald Monroe smiled slowly, a light shining in his eyes. The same blue eyes as Jared. “Royce was three, Jared was one, and Rita was pregnant with Ty. It was the summer of the Bicentennial and I swear to the good Lord that everything was red, white, and blue. The town was having a big celebration with a parade, picnic, and fireworks. The town council had decorated the main square and some people were wearing Abe Lincoln hats or George Washington wigs. It was quite a sight to see.”

Misty had a thought. One she hoped would help Gerald remember for a long time. “Wait here a second. I have an idea.”

She ran to the couch and grabbed her sketchpad and colored pencils before running back. “If you describe it to me I can draw it. Then you’ll have a picture in case the memory starts to fade.”

Gerald grinned and pulled his chair closer to hers. “I like that idea. I have so many memories I’d like to put down on paper.”

Misty smiled back and placed her hand on his arm. “Then we better get busy. By the way, why don’t you stay for dinner? I’m making spaghetti.”

“That’s my favorite, Misty. I think I will stay. Now where was I? That’s right. The Bicentennial. Well, pretty much everyone was in the town square. And it was hot. We were having a heat wave that week. And of course you can’t have a picnic without potato salad, right? Bless Rita’s heart, she’d slaved all day on the third to make about ten pounds of potato salad and there it sat out in the heat. You know where this story is going, don’t you?”

She giggled, her pencils busily whisking across the paper. She’d found a way to connect with Jared’s father – a way to perhaps be part of the family. Someday she’d tell her son or daughter all about their grandparents and about the picnic in Fielding on the Bicentennial.

Jared was tired and hungry when he opened his front door after spending hours at the Boyd Hicks crime scene. Plus he and Knox had driven up to talk to Dale but the man wasn’t home.

The cigarette and the tracks were in the hands of the state forensics lab so he needed to be patient for the results. And patience wasn’t exactly one of his virtues.

“Hey, you’re home.” Misty and his father were sitting at the dinner table. Jared instinctively stiffened but they both looked relaxed and happy. In fact he didn’t remember the last time his dad had looked that calm. But then Misty had a way of making a man forget his problems.

“I am. Something smells good.” Jared closed the door behind him and shed his coat and hat. “Dad, it’s good to see you. Is everything okay?”

“See?” Gerald waved his fork in the air. “He’s always worrying, acting like I’ve got one foot in the grave. Tell him everything is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Misty repeated dutifully, patting the older man’s lined hand. “Your dad took a walk and came to visit me. He’s been telling me great stories and I’ve been drawing pictures for him.”

Jared noticed the pile of papers on the kitchen counter. He picked up the top one and his face split into a grin. How had his father remembered this? Jared had forgotten until now.

“This was such a great Christmas. We all got new bikes from Santa and of course the snow was piled up outside. We all bundled up in our pajamas and winter coats and rode them outside until Mom shooed us back into the house.”

Jared couldn’t stop smiling as he studied the drawing. Every detail was just right down to the color of bikes each child had received. Jared’s had been blue with a red stripe and he’d ridden it all through junior high and high school. Damn, he’d loved that bike. He didn’t know what had happened to it. Somehow it had disappeared while he was in college. He swallowed a lump that had somehow taken up residence in his throat.

His father still remembered that day. But for how long?

“Your mother made chocolate chip pancakes every Christmas morning,” his father said with a smile. “I can still taste them.”

“So can I,” Jared choked out, tears pricking the back of his eyes. Thoughts of his mother always managed to do that to him. “She made them on my birthday too.”

Misty stood and pulled another plate from the cabinet above the sink. “Sit down and I’ll fill your plate.”

“One more minute.” Jared was mesmerized as he leafed through the drawings. His past come to life. A few he didn’t remember, perhaps he was too young, but most brought back a rush of memories he didn’t want to push away. Would they think he was crazy if he simply stared at them for the rest of the night? He missed his mother so much sometimes it physically hurt but Misty had brought her to life on these pages. His father must have described Rita Monroe in detail so true to life were these drawings.

Finally he sat down as Misty and his father were finishing dinner. Her phone rang and she jumped up to answer.

“It’s Rayne on my new phone. Will you handsome gentlemen excuse me for a moment?”

They nodded and she drifted into the bedroom leaving Jared alone with his father. His dad had cleaned his plate and was enjoying a cup of coffee.

“I got lost,” Gerald Monroe said gruffly. “Misty didn’t say that but that’s what happened.”

Jared’s hand tightened on his fork. “Did you take your medication today?”

“Yes, and it still happened. Misty didn’t make a big deal out of it and I don’t want you to either. I was just being honest, that’s all.”

“Fine, but I wish you wouldn’t go walking by yourself anymore,” Jared said carefully, not sure what icebergs where hidden in the water he was navigating. “I’m glad Misty was here. Maybe she can walk with you if I’m not around.”

“She’s a fine woman. You’ve done well for yourself.” His father folded the napkin in his lap and set it on the table. “Why won’t she marry you?”

“You didn’t ask her?”

“I’m asking you,” Gerald retorted, amusement in his features.

“She wants a husband who loves her.” Jared couldn’t picture the man good enough for Misty though. She needed someone really special in her life.

“And you don’t?”

How did he say this? “I care about Misty. A lot.”

Gerald snorted. “Care? What a namby pamby word. It means nothing and says nothing. But if that’s all you can say then you don’t love her. Too bad. She’s one to keep. She’d be good for you too. She’s not like those other women I’ve seen you date. Misty feels things. Deep down. If she ever decided to love someone they’d be one lucky son of a bitch because she’d love them forever.”

Yes, whomever Misty loved would be a very lucky man.

“Dad, you barely know her, although I’m not arguing that she’s wonderful. She is.”

Jared was wondering why he was arguing at all. Except he didn’t like the idea that his father thought he knew something about Misty that Jared didn’t.

“I might forget things but I still got eyes. I can see. She’s got a good heart. Whose idea do you think it was to draw those pictures for me? She has empathy. She gives a damn. She’ll be a good mother.”

That was something Jared knew. “She’s worried she won’t, I think. Her mother wasn’t exactly parent of the year.”

Gerald shrugged. “Neither was I and you turned out alright.”

This was the closest thing to a compliment Jared had ever received from his father. “Well, thank you.”

Other books

Breakpoint by Joann Ross
Taras Bulba and Other Tales by Vasilievich G Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol
Red Noon by Capri Montgomery
Beware The Beasts by Vic Ghidalia and Roger Elwood (editors)
Dark Stain by Appel, Benjamin
The Path Was Steep by Suzanne Pickett
Dollhouse by Anya Allyn