Page 27 of Naughty by Nature

“Thanks, Chrissy.”

“You’re welcome, Sheriff.”

Once in his truck, Sheridan pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Marlene at the office. “Any word on anything?”

“The warden of the prison called, offering his deepest regrets in not informing you that Wade was getting out. He says it was a clerical error and it awaiting your call back.”

“Clerical error, my ass. He’s got inept people working for him and it’s going to get someone killed.”

“Yes, sir. He did give me the name of the parole officer in charge of his case. A man by the name of Eric Groves, out of Amarillo. I’ll text you his contact information. As of nine a.m., he has until the end of business today to report in before he’s in violation of his parole.”

One more day. Just a few more hours. Should he continue to try to track Shipton down? Or hope he missed checking in so that Sheridan would have a real reason to lock him up? As of right now he hadn’t done anything Sheridan could prove.

“Okay, thanks Marlene. If you hear anything else, let me know. Who’s out east right now?”

“Um,” she paused and he could hear clacking on her keyboard. “Looks like Hampton is out there now.”

“Have him swing by the Shipton place in a routine patrol. No contact, just see what vehicles are in the drive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks, Marlene.”

“No problem, sheriff.”

Pulling away from the curb, Sheridan debated on what to do. Wade Shipton was a bad apple, and it felt wrong to not do anything to get rid of him or track him down. Cheyenne’s attack that summer night had been one of the worst he’d ever seen.

After Nora had died, he’d gone through life in a bit of a fog. He was conscious and everything, took care of himself and his daughter, but his emotions were burned out, as if he’d been overloaded. It wasn’t until he’d responded to the call that a woman had been raped and beaten that the fogginess had begun to dissipate.

He’d been the first to arrive at the address given to him by dispatch. They didn’t know who the woman was or who had beaten her. An anonymous tip had been called in, and they’d never figured out the caller’s identity. The address was listed to Wade and Cheyenne Shipton.

Slamming his truck to a stop in front of the house, he’d grabbed his heavy-duty flashlight from the charger at the side of the center console. The yard of the house had been overgrown, but even in the dark night it had been easy to see the woman’s body. Her skin glowed in the light of the half moon, so pale except where she was covered with blood. She was stick thin, the hollows of her body deep.

Sheridan remembered sweeping the area with his light, then going down hard on his knees beside her, praying that there was still life in her body. He’d touched his fingers to her neck, feeling the butterfly flutter of a pulse there, then turned her chin skyward.

That was when he’d realized that it was Cheyenne, Brock’s sister, the woman he’d seen at the gas station less than a week previous with horrible marks on her face. It was the woman that had kept him up at night, eaten with guilt that he hadn’t gone and beaten the shit out of her husband.

Now he was going to be up even more nights, because this was his fault.

“You’re gonna be okay, Cheyenne, I promise. We’re going to take care of you.”

Bolting to his truck, he retrieved his rain jacket, the only thing at hand to cover her with. In the distance he could hear the squad on their way.

She didn’t rouse when he covered her, but when the ambulance drew close she opened her eyes at the noise. Groaning, her head rocked back and forth. She seemed to be trying to say something, but she lifted a hand like her mouth hurt. Sheridan could see that her jaw seemed crooked.

“Don’t try to talk. We’re going to take care of you.”

She lifted a hand and pointed at the house. “Kids,” she hissed.

Shit.

“I’ll go inside and check on them. And I’ll call your family to come get them. Okay?”

Her eyes fluttered shut in agreement and he brushed her hair from her temple, unable to help himself. Cheyenne was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, but right this moment she struck him as a broken bird.

Sheridan remembered that night like it had happened two days ago, rather than seven years ago. It had been a devastating occurrence in Honeywell. Wade had broken her jaw and it had required surgery to repair. As they’d waited for the surgeon, he’d asked her questions. She’d had to write out her answers on a notepad. Wade had come home from the bar and tried to force himself on her, but she’d fought. Just not hard enough. Wade had beat her unconscious, breaking her jaw in the process, then raped her. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up out in the yard, but it seemed like something Wade would do just to humiliate her.

Sheridan had deployed every deputy he’d had at the time, but he had been the one to find Wade’s truck at a motel twenty miles away from Honeywell. He’d called in backup, then gone inside to speak to the manager. The man was more than happy to tell Sheridan the room number, and in seconds it seemed like he was pounding on the door. When Wade didn’t answer, he had the manager open the door.

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