Another Man's Ground--A Mystery, page 16
He growled at her. An actual growl, like a dog. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
“Course we are, bitch.”
She put down her pen and looked directly at him. “Then, well, why don’t you know where they are? ’Cause if you don’t, well, now I’m worried, too. Where could they be?”
His eyes got very large and his breathing very fast. And Sheila got very interested. She waited a few beats and then lobbed her question like a firecracker into a fish pond. Curious to see what floated to the surface.
“Has your business gotten dangerous?” The same concerned voice.
He blinked rapidly. “No. What business? We don’t got no business.”
“Really? That’s not what we found during our search.”
He smirked. “You didn’t find nothing.”
“Then what has you so worried?”
“Nothing.”
“Then where are your brothers?”
She was running him around in circles. He looked like his head was about to explode. He rubbed a hand over his face, glared at her, and clamped his lips shut. Time to shake things up a bit. She pulled her phone off the clip on her belt and checked the screen. Her eyes widened in surprise and she grabbed her papers and left the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Lloyd started savagely yanking his cuffed leg. Sheila, watching from behind the two-way mirror, let the tantrum continue for exactly two minutes and then let herself back in the room.
He immediately fell back into his standard slump. She sat back down and patted at her hair.
“Well, I guess we’re done here. They found them.”
“What? Found who? Who found who?”
“We did,” she said briskly. “We found your brothers. They’re in custody. Getting brought in now. I should go process the paperwork.” She made as if to stand.
“Wait.” The word exploded out of him as he leaned forward, his dirty hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “Both of them? They’re here? You have Jackson, too?”
He fought back a grin and sagged against the molded back of his chair. She smothered her own smile.
“I guess those worries were for nothing,” she said. “Of course, they’ll be charged with evading arrest, you understand.”
Lloyd waved his hand dismissively. “That’s nothing.” He stopped. “But … since they’re here, can I talk to them?” He tossed it out like it was no big thing, but the undercurrent of little-boy pleading came through clearly.
Sheila started to say no, but then pretended to argue with herself for a moment. She let out a sigh. “I maybe could … seeing as you’ve been in here awhile, and aren’t making bail. Probably only one, you understand. It’s not exactly regulation. If I could get you one of your brothers, which one would you want to talk to?”
“Jackson,” he said instantly, then took ahold of himself and casually swept his palm across the table. “Yeah. Jackson, I guess. Or whoever.”
Sheila made a show of fidgeting a bit. “I’ll see what I can do. I have to process everything first, though, you understand.” He nodded eagerly. She tapped her paperwork into a neat stack and stood up. “I just can’t believe we found them there. What a hiding place.”
He pushed his hair out of his face and eyed her suspiciously. “They weren’t there. If they had been, you wouldna found ’em.”
She arched a perfectly curved eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Really.” Now he was a snot-nosed kid gloating that he knew more than the grown-ups.
“We know this area pretty well.”
“We know them hills better than anybody. You musta caught ’em out. No way, otherwise.”
“Where possibly could anyone hide that we couldn’t find them?” she taunted.
“You’re just trying to get me to tell. And I ain’t gonna.” He sat back.
Sheila shrugged. Let him think he saw through her questions. She gave him a smile and swept out of the room.
* * *
Hank hit the stop button. Brilliant. She was just brilliant. He walked back out into her office just as she was hanging up the phone and told her so. She nodded graciously in response.
“It seems that he hasn’t seen or talked to Jackson in a while, so it’s got to be Boone who was in the trailer and took off when we showed up. And he’s got to be still in the hills,” he said.
She nodded. “I just sent his record to the marshals. They’re going to take over coordination of the manhunt.” There was no small amount of relief in her voice. “They’re already hunting down known associates.”
“Good,” he said. “Now go home. And tomorrow, you’re out of this building. How about you get out to the scene, then start tracking the money. Kurt should have finished counting it by then.”
Sheila grimaced. “I wish I’d known about you finding that before I interviewed Lloyd. I never would have guessed those losers could amass that much cash. And he must think it’s still safely hidden, because he didn’t seem worried about it. Just worried about Jackson.”
“Yeah,” Hank said slowly, raking his hand through his hair. “About that brother…”
Sheila shut down her computer and sat back with a gleam in her eye. “I know. If they all live together, and Lloyd hasn’t seen his scumbag, itinerant brother Jackson in a long enough time to actually be worried about him … how long you think that’d take?”
Hank gave her his first actual smile of the day. “Ten to fourteen days, I’d say.”
She reached into her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a clear evidence bag. Inside was a Styrofoam cup, chewed around the rim. “I thought some familial DNA might be useful.”
Hank’s grinned widened. “Like I said. Brilliant.”
CHAPTER
23
BRANSON CO. DEPUTY SHOT
Massive manhunt underway for suspected gunman; opposition sheriff candidate questions judgment
By Jadhur Banerjee
A Branson County sheriff’s deputy is in critical condition after getting shot during an investigation in the northern part of the county yesterday morning. Local, state, and federal authorities have flooded the area in a search for the suspected shooters, two brothers with a long string of local arrests.
Boone Taylor, 21, and Jackson Taylor, 25, are wanted in connection with the shooting of Deputy Theodore Pimental, and are considered armed and dangerous. Authorities declined yesterday to disclose which brother they believe fired the shots that hit Pimental.
“We urge the public to be on the lookout for these individuals,” said Deputy U.S. Marshal Wesley Dixon. “They are armed, and have shown that they have no respect for life. If anyone sees or hears anything about their whereabouts, we urge you to call 9-1-1.”
Authorities said the Taylors were at the family’s property near Hogsback Hollow when Pimental, 35, accompanied Sheriff Hank Worth and two other deputies to question them in connection with an ongoing theft investigation.
The Taylor brothers fled, shooting and wounding Pimental in the process. The deputy was rushed to Branson Valley General Hospital, where he remained in critical condition last night.
While law enforcement officials throughout the state expressed support for the Branson County Sheriff’s Department, some questioned the decision to take only four deputies to such a potentially dangerous location.
Worth’s opponent in the upcoming sheriff election, Gerald Tucker, said that deputy safety is paramount.
“These Taylors are known threats to law enforcement. To go out there without full backup is incredibly stupid,” Tucker said. “This just proves that Hank Worth doesn’t know who the bad guys are in this county. And he doesn’t know how to keep our deputies safe.”
Worth was leading the shooting investigation yesterday and could not be reached for comment.
Kaitlyn Murphy of the Eye on Law Enforcement League said that situations vary, but commanding officers must always be aware of how quickly an incident can turn deadly.
“That is their most important duty—the safety of their officers and of the public,” she said. “Imagine if this had occurred in a crowded area. More people could have gotten hurt, and that is unacceptable.”
However, Kevin Cox, a member of the national Police Chiefs Fraternal Organization, said that the facts in this case appear to support Worth’s actions.
“All the deputies were out there for was an interview, not a raid. These guys were criminals, but they didn’t have violent records. I think four officers was a very sensible contingent to take.”
Taylor is the son of Merlon Taylor, a longtime north county resident who was killed in a 2002 car crash while fleeing sheriff’s deputies who were attempting a traffic stop. When paramedics pulled Merlon Taylor from the wreckage, they discovered a kilo of cocaine in his car.
Despite multiple investigations, authorities have never been able to link Merlon Taylor’s four sons to his drug trade. All of them, however, have had their own problems with the law.
Jackson Taylor has multiple arrests dating back to his juvenile days. He was convicted three years ago of identity theft and stealing from the Branson Wal-Mart, and served two years in prison.
Boone Taylor also has almost a dozen arrests for misdemeanor stealing and DWI. He is wanted for failing to appear in Greene County associate circuit court on a traffic violation.
Leroy Taylor, 22, recently served 11 months in county jail for possession of marijuana. He also has several misdemeanor convictions for shoplifting and other stealing offenses, including the theft of a neighbor’s pig. He was taken into custody at the family property yesterday without incident.
Lloyd Taylor, the youngest brother at 19, also has misdemeanor convictions for stealing and for possession of marijuana. He is currently on probation. He has been held without bail at county jail since last week on a charge of assault in connection with an incident at a city of Branson tattoo shop.
All four live at the Hogsback Hollow property where yesterday’s shooting occurred. Deputies worked well into the night processing the crime scene and removing evidence.
Pimental, a graduate of Branson Valley High School, is a 13-year veteran of the department. He is a resident of Hollister and a member of River Baptist Church.
“We continue to pray for Ted, and we ask everyone out there to pray for him as well,” said Brian Wilcox, River Baptist minister. “We know that with the Lord’s help, he will get through this.”
* * *
Hank forced himself to read the entire article. As usual, Jadhur had talked with everyone even remotely relevant to the story. Hank hated that.
He and the deputy marshal heading the manhunt had decided yesterday afternoon to put both brothers out as wanted, since they didn’t know which one had done it. It was only after Sheila’s evening interview with baby brother Lloyd that he’d become confident he knew which Taylor it was. And he was going to keep that piece of information to himself for the moment. It wouldn’t hurt to have a large contingent of federal marshals looking for Jackson as well.
He tossed the newspaper on the table just as Dunc walked in from the garage. Guapo trotted beside him. He had dirt on his nose and looked very pleased with himself. Dunc had dirt on his hands and did not. Hank knew what that meant.
He waited until Dunc had turned off the Johnny Cash blaring through his earbuds before speaking.
“What’d he do this time?”
Dunc snorted. “Mrs. Crawford’s geraniums. Demolished two of them before I could get him away from the damn flower bed.” He glowered at the dog, who plopped down at his feet with a satisfied grunt. “Thank God it’s five in the morning and nobody saw it happen.”
Hank rolled his eyes. By now, the entire neighborhood knew exactly who was responsible for the overnight “landscaping work” that had reshaped numerous front yards in the four months they’d owned Guapo.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” said Dunc, misinterpreting Hank’s look. “I’m going to replace them. I’m not trying to get out of it. I’d just rather not actually talk to Mrs. Crawford.”
Hank hid a smile. The long-divorced Mrs. Crawford never passed up an opportunity to talk to eligible widower Duncan McCleary. But Hank knew better than to tease him about it. It was still too soon after Marian’s death. Her fatal heart attack had been less than a year ago.
Dunc poured himself a cup of coffee and then filled the empty travel mug sitting on the counter. He crossed the kitchen and handed it to a surprised Hank.
“I’m sorry about your deputy,” he said. “I know you’ll find the bastard who did it.”
“Thanks, Dunc. I appreciate it.”
Guapo had settled on Hank’s feet. His tail softly thumped against the linoleum floor. Hank gently nudged him off.
“You headed back out there?”
“Not yet,” Hank said. “There’s someone I need to check on first.”
* * *
The house was dark, except for a faint light in the kitchen window. It was a tiny cottage in an older neighborhood near downtown. Hank knew Sam rented it almost solely because of the sizable, and heavily secured, shed in the back where he was able to keep all of his hunting gear.
He knocked quietly on the front door. He saw a shadow block the kitchen light and then heard the deadbolt slide back. A woman in her mid-fifties swung the door open and gave him a wan smile.
“Hello, Sheriff.”
“Mrs. Karnes?” Hank had never met Sam’s mother.
She nodded and gestured him inside. He followed her through a small living room dominated by a huge TV and a long green velour couch and into the kitchen, which smelled of coffee and bread. She made him sit at the table as she bustled in the little space—pouring coffee, checking the oven, straightening the dish towels. She finally settled into the one other chair and told Hank he should call her Leslie.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d start a batch of raisin bread. It’s his favorite.”
Hank nodded. Her raisin bread was legendary at the office. There was a mad scramble for it whenever Sam brought it in.
“How is he doing?”
“Well, I hope that he’ll be better today,” she said. “He didn’t fall asleep until really late. And he certainly didn’t want me here. I wouldn’t have known if Carrie hadn’t called me.” She stopped at Hank’s confused look. “Oh, she’s in our church. And her sister over in Forsyth is married to Earl Crumblit. He’s worked at the jail for I don’t know how long.”
The small-town grapevine comes through again, he thought.
“And he wouldn’t talk to me,” she continued. “Just took a shower twice, even though Earl said he’d already taken one.”
Hank guessed that it would take more than that to wash away what had happened yesterday. He pulled out a business card, wrote his personal cell number on the back, and asked her to call him with an update whenever Sam woke up. Or if she needed anything. He slid the card across the small table between them.
She ran her finger over the raised sheriff’s logo. “Sammy really likes you. He says that you’re kind. Not weak, nothing like that, but kind. I don’t think he’s ever worked for anybody like that before. It’s not a very … common … law enforcement characteristic.” She picked up the card. “I hope you win the election.”
Hank was stunned. He had no idea Sammy felt that way. He had always worried that he was too hard on the kid.
He must have looked surprised, because Leslie laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t spread that around. I know you got to be tough to be considered sheriff material. I won’t say anything when I’m going door-to-door.”
“Well, I appreciate—wait, what? You’re going door-to-door?”
She nodded. “It’s actually kind of fun. I’ve never done it before. Cindy and I have done four neighborhoods so far, and we’re doing another two soon. Handing out your pamphlets and talking about you. Most people even give us a listen.”
If he was stunned before, now he was speechless. He stared slack-jawed at her for a moment until he realized he was being a jackass. He thanked her profusely and was about to ask her to thank the Cindy he didn’t know when Sam staggered into the kitchen in a T-shirt and boxers. His brown hair, which had obviously been wet when he went to bed, stood up in all directions.
He stopped short and glared at Hank.
“Samuel,” his mother said in a finely honed remember-your-manners tone. “The sheriff just came by to see how you’re doing.”
Sam’s glare stayed put.
“How’s Ted?”
“They took him in for another surgery about four this morning,” Hank said. “He’s not out yet.”
Sam sighed and lurched over to the coffeemaker.
“Honey, maybe you should go back to bed.”
Sam whipped around, knuckles white around his coffee cup. Hank stood quickly to leave. He did not need to see a grown man argue with his mother about taking a nap.
Apparently Sam didn’t need to see it, either. He smacked the coffee cup down on the counter. “I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Hank and Leslie said at the same time. Then they both started in.
“I don’t think—”
“Honey, you need to rest—”
“We’ve got this handled, Sam, and—”
“Am I going to have to call your father? He wants to bring over Pastor Tom anyway.”
That did it. Sam slid the mug into the sink so forcefully that the handle broke off.
“I am going to go to work.” He pointed to Hank. “You stay there. I’m going to get dressed.”
Leslie let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Let me wrap up the raisin bread for you.”
“I don’t want it.” He stomped into his bedroom and slammed the door.
Hank frowned. Now, that was over the line. Leslie apparently thought so as well. She pulled the bread out of the oven, put it in a foil-lined container, and covered it with a towel. She handed it to Hank with a wink, then turned serious.
“Take care of my boy, Sheriff. Please.”
“I promise, ma’am. He’s not even going to go out to the site. I’ll have him do paperwork all day.”
