Page 37 of Shelter for Sharla

“This isn’t a private gathering! It’s open to the public!” the woman crowed.

A presence filled the little space around them and Carter was shocked when he heard that deep voice ask, “What’s going on here?”

“I’m a member of the press and I?”

“Ma’am,” Cruz said and pulled his credentials from his wallet, “I’m an agent with the FBI. There is an ongoing investigation into the circumstances surrounding the death of MissKent, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave or I’ll be forced to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

“You wouldn’t!” the young woman shouted.

“Please, ma’am, don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. The funeral will be over by the time your newspaper editor bails you out anyway. If I were you, I’d go right now before one of these fine officers loses his patience and puts you in cuffs.”

“You can’t do this!” she barked.

“Show a little decency, common courtesy, and respect, and get out of here,” Carter snapped. It was about the most unprofessional thing he’d ever said and he didn’t care one bit. All he really had on his mind at the moment was snapping the woman in half.

“I plan to report all of this!” she yelled as she slipped into her car.

“You go right ahead,” Carter called back. He watched as she pulled out of the parking space, tires squealing, and that was when he heard it?a chuckle. He turned to find Cruz fighting laughter. “What? She’s a bitch if there ever was one.”

“You. Boy, you’re like a rabid dog when it comes to protecting people! I like it, Carter, I really do. You and I are going to get along just fine,” Cruz said, still grinning. “Come on. We need to get back inside.”

“You couldn’t really charge her with that, could you?” Carter asked with a smirk.

Cruz wore the best wise-ass face Carter had ever seen. “No, but she doesn’t know that.”

They all took their posts again and waited. The service was very nice. One of the members of the faculty at the university conveyed the condolences of the entire campus. Lionel read a poem he and Tamara had written together when they were just children. A local minister stood and talked about forgiveness, about how it benefitted the person giving it as much as the person receiving it. As they spoke, one of the funeral home employees came by and whispered to Carter that the other law enforcement officers there were going to run traffic interference for the funeral procession, and that the family had requested he drive them to the cemetery. That suited him just fine, and he gave the man the keys to his cruiser so it could be moved up into the funeral procession.

He met them at the back door and helped all three of them into the car, then followed the hearse to the cemetery, taking that time to remind them once again to report anything they saw that caught their eye as being off in any way. Once there, he and Sam escorted the family to the chairs under the tent, then took up spots around the perimeter, along with the other officers who’d been at the funeral home. He was glad to see Cruz wander up and take up a position opposite his own.

The minister began to speak and Carter was lost in the droning of his voice, deep in thought about Tamara, his dad, and his grandparents, when he detected movement and turned. It was Chelsea. As soon as she caught his eye, she mouthed something. Carter couldn’t make it out, but he didn’t want to show any outward signs, so he just raised one eyebrow slightly. Chelsea caught his expression and repeated it as Carter stared at her lips.Free? Breeze?Still not understanding, he watched again, and that time he got it:Trees.As he gave her a slight nod, she tipped her head back in the opposite direction. Not wanting to draw attention, Carter turned his back to the area she’d indicated and sent a quick text to Cruz:The daughter says there’s someone in the tree line to your right.When he turned back, he saw Cruz give him a glance that told him the message was received. The agent moved slowly but steadily, weaving his way through the crowd and heading to the left, then stealthily moving around to circle to the back of the tent where no one was standing. Carter knew he’d hug close to the tent and try to get a look at whatever Chelsea was seeing.

He’d never seen anybody sprint like that from a dead run, but Cruz’s long legs covered the distance between the tent and the tree line at a remarkable speed, and in seconds Carter and Sam both were on the move too, running as fast as they could toward the brush. It was all in vain. From a distance, Carter could hear the sound of a car door slamming and tires slinging gravel. They weren’t fast enough. When he reached the clearing on the other side, Cruz and Sam stood there, hands on their thighs, sucking in air. “Did you see the car?” Carter asked, breathless.

Cruz shook his head. “No. He was gone by the time we got here.”

“Damn it! So close…” Carter closed his eyes. No, no, no. They needed whoever it was.

“It’s okay. He knows somebody was on to him, and he’ll go back and tell whoever he’s working for or with. And that’s okay. We want them to know we’re looking. They’ll trip up and it’ll be easier to catch them. Good work, guys,” Cruz said and slapped Carter and Sam on the back.

They made their way to the tree line and stood there just at its edge, hesitant to disrupt the service any more than they already had. Sharla, Chelsea, and Lionel stood and dropped long-stemmed roses into the grave, and with the final prayer, the service was over. Attendees were shaking hands with the family and encouraging them, but Carter was concerned. Sharla’s drawn, ashen face looked totally and completely worn out. All he wanted was to get them back to the funeral home to pick up the food and then home to eat so they could rest. After telling Sam where the extra key was so he could drop Cruz off at the house, he gathered up Sharla, Chelsea, and Lionel and led them to the car.

He waited until he pulled out on the highway before he asked the question. “Chelsea, who did you see?”

“That was the guy who was doing the rally! I recognized him!”

“The one speaking and talking about arming yourselves?”

“No. This one was off to the side, but he was acting like he was running the show. I saw him telling the other guys what to do. And he was handing those bandages to kids to take around and pass out to people with the tattoos. There were copies of the tattoo, and he was giving them to people to pass out. It was like he was the boss or something.”

“Do you think you could describe him to a police sketch artist?”

She stared up at the car’s headliner for a few seconds before she answered. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know how that works, but I’d be willing to try it.”

“Okay. We don’t have one, but I know a few places that do. If I have to, I’ll take you to Nashville to get somebody down there to do it. We’ll findsomebody, but anything you can give us will help.”

“SheriffMelton? Who was that?”

“Carter. Call me Carter.”

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