Page 47 of Water's Edge

Or won’t, I think.

“Funny you should bring him up, Sheriff. We need to talk to you about him. Maybe we should go into your office for some privacy?”

He gives me a little scowl. Not a big one. Just a touch.

“I think that would be a wonderful idea, Detective Carpenter.”

Uh-oh. I’ve pissed him off. He’s never called me that. Ronnie and I follow him to his office. He motions for Ronnie to pull the door closed. We all sit. His chair squeals.

WD-40 isn’t the answer.

Losing about fifty pounds is.

“Jim Truitt might be a big police supporter, Sheriff. That’s great. We can always use more support. But he’s something else too.”

I pause. It’s like laying down a winning hand, even when the game is just getting started.

“Two things,” I say. “He’s quite possibly a child molester. He might also be our killer.”

“There’s a lot to unpack there,” he says, narrowing his gaze at me. “A lot of supposition.”

“I can’t prove he’s the father of Leann’s baby. But I’m working on it. The thing is, I don’t have authority to get the adoption records. If I can find the baby, I can get DNA comparisons with Bohleber and Truitt.”

Ronnie pipes up. “If he lied about the baby, it gives him a motive for her murder.”

Sheriff Gray is thinking.

“Maybe he hired someone to kill her?” he suggests. “Maybe finding the baby won’t matter. And you will still need DNA from Truitt and Bohleber for comparison. Do you think they’ll cooperate?”

Hell no, I think.

“Yes,” I say.

Twenty-Four

Nan knocks and sticks her head in the doorway of the sheriff’s office.

She hates being excluded and uses every opportunity to edge her way into the know.

This time she has a legitimate reason.

“I got something for you,” she says, handing a printout to me. She lingers a second, looking at the food on the desk and giving the sheriff a dirty look before shutting the door behind her.

“You’re going to get coal in your Christmas stocking this year, Sheriff,” I say.

His eyes widen. “Me? I’m telling her Ronnie brought the stuff in.”

Sheriff is light on his feet when he wants to be. I look at the printout and my eyes bug out.

“What?” he asks.

I return to my desk, drink some cold coffee, and get busy on the phone. Ronnie is on the computer pulling files on the names from the printout. An hour later we meet up in the sheriff’s office again.

He has a worried look on his face. His sausage burger is only half eaten and still on the wrapper on his desk.

“Is it as bad as it looks?” he asks.

I’m holding the printout Nan gave me. Parts of it are highlighted in yellow. I read from it.

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