Twelve Days of Trauma Page 4

  “May I ask how you came by this information?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I might have asked the bartender and owner of a nearby club to show me his video footage. I might have seen a truck with a row of fog lights on top of the cab leaving the club just a few minutes before my accident occurred.”

  “I see,” she said. “I can look it up for you, sure.”

  “I’ve already sent you the image in question,” I replied.

  “Oh, so you did. Just bear with me for a moment,” she grunted, and I could hear her tapping away at a keyboard for a few seconds, and then waiting “It’s not a complete match, but it could be a vehicle registered to one Mark Carson, son to Sheriff James Carson, as I suspected. I wouldn’t do this if it were any other vehicles, but as you can see there’s a bit of a conflict of interest, I’m texting you an address where it might be parked.”

  “I appreciate it, Julie,” I said, closing my eyes. “I’ll get back to you if I remember anything else.”

  “Tim,” she said and paused for a moment. “Be careful.” There was fear in her voice.

  My hands were shaking as I put the phone away and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the cold.

  Chapter 12

  The night was still young, despite the fact that the sun had set a few hours ago. Everything went darker earlier during the winter. Having grown up in a southern clime, I doubted that I would ever get used to it.

  As I drove out of the city, I thought about the awkward situation Julie was in. I could understand a local sheriff bullying town officials in a place like this, but surely he wouldn’t be able to cover up something like this. Unless he had some high ranking politicians in his back pocket, that is.

  Maybe that was the reason, I mused as I drove past the location she had given me and then pulled the car over a mile or so away. Her directions had led me out of the city, into what looked like it had once been farmland, but it had probably been years since any crops or livestock had been here and it was now being taken over by the nearby forests.

  It was tough to move through the thick snow on foot, and I could feel my lungs burning by the time that I could see a small house where trees had been cleared.

  The painkillers that had been prescribed were doing their job, although I had a feeling that my foot and ribs would be killing me in the morning. I rested for a moment, then pushed on through the trees to find an old farmhouse. Even in the dark I could see that the small, two-story house was run down. It probably remained from the time when this land had been farmed and it didn’t look like it had been well maintained.

  Most of the lights were out, and it looked like nobody was home. I didn’t expect much different, of course, but it was still good to know that there was nobody there to see me peeping.

  There were three trucks parked out in front of the house itself, recently cleaned of snow that was still coming down gently. Two looked like a lot of work had been put into making them look as flashy as possible, with large grilles and shiny stickers making them almost impossible to miss.

  But it was the third one that caught my attention. It had about as much work as the other two, but the front had been heavily damaged, with a large part of the grill still missing.

  I pulled out my phone and checked the license plate against the one from the security camera at the club. They both ended in 4137. I took a handful of pictures, making sure to show as much of the damage as possible before the sound of barking dogs told me that it was time to leave.

  As I was hiking back to my car, my phone started buzzing in my pocket.

  I looked at the call display. “Julie,” I said, a little out of breath.

  “We need to talk,” she said, without preamble. “Can you come down to my place in a bit? I’ll text you the address.”

  Chapter 13

  A quick drive back into the city brought me to a small house. It was similar in style and age to the farmhouse I had just come from, but this one had been much better maintained. Most of the lights were already out, but I could see her watching for me from the living room window, and she met me at the front door, steaming mug in hand, and rushed me inside. It was a nice little place, old but well maintained, and a lot of work had gone into making it into a home. Even the Christmas decorations looking like they had been handmade.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, taking my coat and boots off, not wanting to track any of the snow inside. I joined her at her kitchen table.

  “Please be quiet, I just got my son to sleep,” she whispered. “Cocoa?”

  “Yes, please,” I replied, narrowing my eyes. “You sounded worried on the phone. Is something the matter?”

  She nodded. “Sorry, cocoa is my go-to drink when I’m anxious. I have some coffee too if you prefer.”

  “Cocoa is fine,” I said with a small smile. “What’s the matter?”

  “I think the sheriff knows that we’re looking into his son,” she said, placing a steaming mug on the counter in front of me. “He somehow knew I had accessed his son’s vehicle registration. I said that it was for some paperwork I was doing related to a drunk driving charge a few months ago, but I’m not sure if he believed me.”

  “Well, I got pictures of the truck in question,” I said, handing her the camera. “With that, the piece of the grille and my own statement, there should be enough evidence to open up a case.”

  “You don’t understand,” Smith sighed, looking at the pictures. “The sheriff and his son are friends with all of the judges in town. You’d be lucky to get a hearing.”

  “We could talk to the state police then,” I insisted. “Or… I don’t know, maybe someone on the federal level will be able to help us out.”

  “He’s got connections on that end too,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not supposed to know that, of course, but a guy like him doesn’t keep the sheriff’s job for over twenty years without some backdoor deals being made. They’ll just shut the case down and alert him about what we’re doing.”

  I nodded. “Sounds like we don’t have much of a choice.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean that you needed to drop it,” Smith said, taking a long sip from her cocoa.

  “That wasn’t the choice I was referring to,” I said. “I can build the case. I know how to work the evidence and get it to a federal judge in a way that even the sheriff won’t be able to shut down.”

  “You’re taking this into your own hands?” she asked.

  “I don’t have much of a choice,” I said with a sigh. “I appreciate your help, but I won’t ask you to put yourself and your boy at risk any more than you already have.”

  There really wasn’t that much more to say. I got up and put my boots back on. Julie met me at the door.

  “Tim, be careful,” she told me again. Then she handed me a pistol. It was a Glock 17, a weapon that I was familiar with.

  I doubted that I would be using it. Someone in her kind of position wouldn’t have acquired an illegal firearm, meaning that the weapon was likely registered in her name. Anything I used the weapon for would be traced back to her.

  Chapter 14

  December 19th

  Back at the hospital, keeping an eye on Celia in her hospital bed while my parents got some rest of their own, my hand kept moving back to the lump in my jacket. It was tempting to just take the gun and take on the guilty party the way that we did in the old days.

  I had to think about Celia though; it was bad enough that I would have to tell her what had happened to her mother. What if something were to happen to me too? Still, I couldn’t just let this go. Something needed to be done. Like Julie said, I just needed to be careful.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, leaning in to place a light kiss on her warm forehead. “Daddy’s got to get some justice for you and Mommy.”

  She was still unconscious and I wondered if she could hear me. I looked at all the sensors all over her tiny body to keep an eye on her in case anything changed. I knew I was risking my life wi
th what I was about to do, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just let this go. If it wasn’t bad enough that they had taken the love of my life away from me, they had also taken this child’s mother away from her.

  My parents came to take over the vigil, and I pushed myself up from my seat.

  “I really appreciate you guys staying here with us,” I said, hugging them both in turn.

  “There isn’t anywhere else we’d rather be,” Mom said, her eyes glistening.

  “What have you found out so far?” Dad asked.

  I looked around to make sure the door was closed and there wasn’t any staff in sight. “The hit and run driver was the sheriff’s son, or one of his friends driving his truck,” I said. “The sheriff is trying to cover it up and it seems he’s got enough people in his pockets that he might be successful.”

  “You shouldn’t be messing around with the local law,” Dad said. “You’d better call the state police and let them handle it.”

  “I thought of that,” I said, putting on my jacket. “I’ve got a detective on the force helping me. The problem is this guy’s been sheriff for almost thirty years and before that, it was his old man, so we don’t know who we can talk to that won’t go straight back to him.”

  “You just be careful Tim,” mom said. “Celia can’t lose you too.” She put a tissue to her face, the thought caused her tears to spill over.

  Ten minutes later I pulled out of the parking lot. It hadn’t snowed much since the storm, and the roads had mostly been cleared, giving me a clear shot at heading out of the city and finding that little farmhouse out in the middle of the woods.

  I turned out onto the main road and I caught a glimpse of a truck with a shiny grille behind me. I sped up and the truck matched my pace. I braked hard and turned on to a side street, one that still had packed snow on it. The truck followed. My dad’s station wagon was no match for a four-wheel-drive truck on a slippery road; I needed to get back on the main road.

  I turned again onto another side road, this one also snow-covered. The truck followed, now closing in. We were on the edge of town and the road was lined with trees rather than houses. Not the best way to go when someone is chasing you.

  I looked in the rearview mirror and all I could see was the broken grille of the pickup truck, the same one that had killed Suzy and put Celia and I in the hospital. I looked in the side mirror just in time to see the shotgun and lower my head. The blast was deafening and I fought to keep control of the car on the slippery road as the back window was blown out, glass covering the back seat and cold air rushing in.

  I pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the car picking up dangerous speed on the icy roads. Another blast of the shotgun forced me down again, my hands scrambling for the pistol still hidden in my jacket.

  There was a third report from the shotgun and the car fishtailed. I tried to control it but one of the tires had blown out. My foot moved over to the brake, sending the car sliding sideways. I could see the truck, way too close, out the side window.

  I ducked my head down, gripping it with both hands and bracing myself.

  Ribs still on the mend, I could feel them screaming in pain as the car was whipped around, skidding across the snow-covered ground, coming to a halt on the edge of the road.

  The truck narrowly avoided me and then came to a skidding halt. They were coming back around to finish the job.

  I reached down, unbuckling my belt and pushing the door open, climbing out of the car into the cold air. Looking around, I felt a sharp pang of pain in my right leg. Nothing had been broken in the impact. Maybe a little sprained. Running away wasn’t an option.

  My ears were left ringing as I heard another blast of the shotgun.

  I turned around, seeing the sheriff standing out on the road, a small grin touching his mustached face.

  “Figure you and me need to have a little talk,” he said, chuckling, pumping the action of his shotgun again.

  Chapter 15

  “You’ve got my attention,” I said, buying time as the shotgun was pointed at my chest.

  “Dad, stop!” came a voice from the truck.

  “Stay in the car, son. We just need to have a chat,” the sheriff shouted back, turning back to me and speaking in a lower voice. “That kid’s got some smarts in him. Could even be a state senator one day if he put any effort into it. Sure, you understand, that’s never going to happen if he gets charged with vehicular manslaughter.”

  “He killed someone,” I growled. “He killed my wife and left my daughter without a mother.”

  “I'm damn sorry about that,” the sheriff said, sincerely. "And so is he. But ruining his life won't bring them back, will it?"

  “I can't just let it go,” I called. "Put yourself in my shoes; if someone killed your wife, you wouldn't just let him walk."

  I ducked as he lifted the shotgun, firing another round above my head, leaving my ears ringing.

  “Last chance,” he said. “Give it up now and maybe you’ll leave with your life. And your daughter’s.”

  Anger twisted my face and I had to fight the urge to draw the Glock and try to out-shoot him. “You son of a bitch! My little girl is lying unconscious in the hospital and you’re threatening her life? You’d better shoot me now. If you let me live, I’ll end you!” If there were any houses nearby, they had surely heard the gunshots and were now listening to my yelling, but he didn’t seem worried.

  “I figured reasoning wasn't going to work,” the sheriff said almost casually, spitting on the ground. “I’d tell you to get on your knees and put your hands on your head, but it would look a lot better if you were on your feet. Got a weapon on you, son?”

  “Of course not,” I lied.

  The man nodded. “Of course, some city bumpkin isn’t armed. Y’all hate guns, right? Well, just going to have to provide you with one.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled a snub-nosed revolver out. He fired a couple of shots in the general direction of the truck and then tossed it onto the snow-covered ground in front of me.

  “Go ahead, pick it up,” the sheriff said with a smirk. “Defend yourself.”

  I tilted my head, taking a step away from the weapon, putting my hands up behind my head and dropping down to my knees.

  “The fuck are you doing?” he asked, taking a step closer.

  “Like you said, shooting a man on his knees won’t look good,” I replied. “Forensics will be able to pick up on that. Sure, you can make it all go away, but you’ll have to call in some favors that you’ve been saving for your son.”

  The man took a step forward, the shotgun a few inches away from my head. “Think I won’t shoot you, son?”

  “I think you’re going to anyway,” I hissed back. “And if you’re going to be responsible for orphaning my daughter, I’ll be damned if I’ll make it easier for you.”

  The man laughed. “Details. You’re going to die one way or another. Say your prayers, sonny.”

  “Dad, don’t!” the boy said, now out of the truck. “Put the gun down. I’ll turn myself in.” The boy looked a lot like his father with scruffy hair sticking out from under a hat and his own pot-belly not yet as big as his father’s.

  “You get back in the fucking truck!” the sheriff said, finally beginning to lose his cool. “I won’t let you ruin your life this way!”

  The boy moved to take the gun from his father but the sheriff was ready and slammed the stock of the gun into his ribs, hard. I used the momentary distraction to go for my weapon.

  “Freeze!” the sheriff shouted.

  I instinctively pulled my hand away, a stupid move, because I was going to die anyway.

  “Sorry Celia,” I whispered. I clenched my eyes shut tighter as he pumped the shotgun. The report was deafening in my ears.

  Chapter 16

  I flinched, hearing a couple of booming shots. Too quick and too crisp to be the shotgun. My eyes opened, watching the sheriff crumpling to the ground.

  Julie step
ped out of the trees, her service weapon gripped firmly in both hands and pointed toward the sheriff.

  I pushed myself up from my knees, staring down at the sheriff lying face-down in the snow which was red with too much of his blood and then back up to Julie, who looked as shocked as I felt.

  “I guess he doesn’t need an ambulance,” she remarked cooly but her hands were shaking as she turned her weapon toward the boy, who was still sitting on the ground, sobbing.

  “You got any weapons on you, boy?” she asked. He shook his head and I moved to check. I checked his jacket pockets and patted down his legs. I felt a sudden urge to shoot him in the head but fought it back. Landing myself in prison wouldn’t be a good thing for Celia.

  I took a deep breath of the sweet, sweet oxygen that had been a little too cold only a few seconds before. “Thanks for saving my life. But how did you…”

  “I was on my way to the hospital to see you when I heard the shots,” she said. “I just headed this way with my window open and then I heard you yelling. You’re lucky I was this close. A few seconds later, and your brains would have been decorating the snow.”

  “Pity to do that,” I said. “Binghamton is really rocking the ‘White Christmas’ look.”

  I looked down at my hands, still shaking, heart thudding and a shiver started to take over my body.

  “You killed my dad!” the boy shouted, suddenly coming to life. He raised the pistol his dad had tossed to me and squeezed off a shot.

  Chapter 17

  “Drop it!” Julie and I both said at once. The shot had gone wide and the boy looked at the two guns now pointed at him. He dropped the gun on the ground and resumed sobbing. I retrieved the revolver.

  “He was about to kill someone too, or did you miss that part?” Julie said. “I think it’s best if you sit back down and put your hands on your head.”