Page 39 of Rabid

She simply nodded.

“Seeing a beard means you’ve eliminated the women, but included every man who lives out here except me.” Dale shaved each morning, and she rarely saw a sign of facial hair.

“Are you calling the sheriff now?” she asked.

“Let’s have coffee and talk about that. There are some things you need to know, and I’ve been waiting for the right time to explain,” he said, grim-faced.

With coffee in hand, Dale settled on the reclining chair, and Willow took the couch. Maxand Daisy lay down and didn’t seem concerned about anyone outside. It allowed Willow to relax.

Dale cleared his throat, looked away from her, and began talking. “Joan was considered a thorn in the sheriff department’s side. I ran a bit of interference and handled just about all her complaints. She was a smart woman, and I, as a deputy, irritated the crap out of her.” He still didn’t meet Willow’s eyes. “You said she told you about the court hearing with the puppy mill and how Jeb Hogg got away without charges?”

Willow nodded, but he still wasn’t looking at her, so she said, “Yes.”

“A few months before all hell broke loose at the Hogg homestead, one of the investigators from the county drug task force approached me. They’re a ragtag team from every department in the county. Each department loans an officer for a three-year stint. It’s usually someone they want out of their hair. The investigator explained that the Hoggs were under investigation as a major methamphetamine distributor and most likely cooking it on the property.” Dale stopped for a moment, and Willow saw the sadness he tried to hide. It was in his voice too. He took a sip of coffee and continued. “Joan was making a fuss about the dog fighting again. She’d stopped trusting me to do anything, so she took her complaints straight to the front office and filed in writing.” Dale pulled a silver flask from his pocket and poured some into hismug. “Liquid courage,” he said and finally looked at her. “Would you like some?”

Willow shook her head.

“Joan’s complaints were valid, but there are only two deputies handling over five hundred square miles. I checked on her because I live out here. If I had lived in town, I wouldn’t have, and that shames me.” He took a longer pull from the mug. “The people here on the ranch keep to themselves. Some are like me and were short on money needing a cheap place to live, or like Joan, wanting to escape something personal. Others have more nefarious reasons. They’re running from child support or much worse. We have Sovereign Citizens. They’re a crazy group that believe the sheriff is the highest legitimate law enforcement because sheriffs are elected by the people at the will of the people. They don’t feel that way about local police and consider them an extension of an illegitimate government.” He shrugged. “Local police are trained to call for deputy backup if they run into them. SCs won’t acquire ID, and don’t register or insure their vehicles. For the most part, they’re left alone, and that’s why they stay.”

He took another long drink and stood to refill his mug. “Do you need a warmup?” he asked.

Again, Willow shook her head.

He refilled his mug, added more liquor, and sat back in the chair. “Long story short, the peoplehere leave you alone if you leave them alone. Joan didn’t follow the rules when it came to the Hoggs. The last time she complained to me, there was nothing I could do because of the meth investigation. I tried to pacify her, and that just made her angrier. I couldn’t tell her what was going on without risking my job, so I stayed quiet.” He took another drink.

“About ten years ago,” he continued, “Someone found a body in an old trailer here on the ranch. The man had been dead for two to three years and his body was mummified. There was little investigation. I decided to look into it myself and questioned the people in the area. That didn’t go well, because like I said, the people out here mind their own business. Someone made a complaint, and I was called into my commander’s office. Very explicitly, I was told to do as much work as possible off the ranch and to leave the dead body investigation alone.”

Willow could tell this angered him.

“After what happened the night Joan died, they found evidence of a major meth lab in the Hoggs’ barn.” He paused for a moment, his face remaining grim. “I have no idea how long the drug investigation had been going on, and it could have been years. The narc investigators don’t trust others, and personally, I didn’t trust them. Too many opportunities to hide large amounts of cash, and let corruption lead them down a hellhole. IfI had disregarded what they told me, and said something to Joan, she would be alive today.”

Dale leaned forward and looked Willow straight in the eyes. “I’m the reason your grandmother died.”

Chapter Thirty

Sour Truth

Willow tried to absorb what Dale told her. She’d listened to her grandmother gripe about the Hoggs, Dale, and other law enforcement. Willow hated to admit it, but she enjoyed the stories. They were life on the outside, and she replayed them in her head each night when she couldn’t sleep, which was often.

She didn’t feel Dale was responsible for her grandmother’s death. Though what he’d told her explained a lot. He was so good to her, and she’d known it had to be more than loving her grandmother. It was his guilt, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Instead of tackling the issues that would make him feel better right now, she decided to open up to him. He deserved the truth too.

“I killed my father,” she said.

He nodded. “I know that.”

“He abused my mother physically. He did more than that to me.” She looked down. “My mother found out and she snapped. She went after him with a bat. He beat her to death with his bare hands. I hated him. I told my lawyer what really happened that night. He said I needed to keep it to myself. My grandmother never knew the truth.” She looked into her cup, then back at Dale. “I think I’ll try some of your nerve-calming juice,” she said.

Dale handed the flask over, and she poured in about half of what he’d put in his mug. She handed the silver container back and took a sip. She choked. A small grin appeared on Dale’s lips, which made it worth it.

When she had her breathing under control, she continued. “My lawyer claimed self-defense, but the jury didn’t buy it because they were right. My dad killed my mom, but afterward, he curled up on the floor and cried. He even told me to call the police. Instead, I took a baseball bat and beat him to death. I got the sentence I deserved. I just never wanted to disappoint my grandmother because she had her own guilt. She didn’t even know my dad had moved us back to Arizona. I was the only person she had, and she was the same for me. I never planned to tell her.”

“Your dad got exactly what he deserved. I would do it for you if we could go back. Why are you telling me?” he asked gently.

“We can’t go back. Maybe my grandmother would be alive, and maybe she wouldn’t. If what happened with my dad happened again, I would kill him, even knowing my fate.”

It took Dale a moment, and then he smiled. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“I thought you would look at me like a murderer,” she said, refusing to let tears form in her eyes.

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