Page 22 of Hell and Gone
Braddock sent him a withering glare over the casting at Everett’s “sir.”
“Impressive.” Howell held out his hand, and he inspected the casting closely, pulling the plastic bag tight to peer at the details on the shoe, the shape of the horse. “Small horse, looks like.”
“Definitely a small one, sir. A mare, most likely. She’s slender and, based on the depth of the print and the soil up there, I’d say the rider is heavy for the horse. They move slow, but they move carefully.”
“This track you found. Where was it headed?” Howell set the cast down on the desk carefully. He turned his full attention to Everett.
Everett could almost fall into his gaze, into the hunger he saw there. Hunger for justice. Hunger to avenge his man.
“To the public lands on Crazy Peak.”
Howell cursed and shook his head. He met Braddock’s stone-cold glare with one of his one. “Public lands,” he said softly. “We have to close them down, Darby. We’ve got a murderer coming off these trails and invading private land. Not to mention our rustling problem.”
Lawrence cleared his throat overly loudly from the corner and behind the clutch of deputies. The deputies cast him a wretched look, like he’d vomited on their boots.
“This isn’t the only murder,” Everett said. The air went still after he spoke. Not a soul moved or breathed. “We went to Riley’s hanging first.”
“The coroner has signed the death certificate. He’s sure it’s a suicide.”
“No, it wasn’t!” Lawrence protested.
“Son, we got Riley’s cell phone,” Braddock said softly. He ignored Lawrence, speaking to Everett alone in a hushed voice. “He wrote a suicide note. Said he couldn’t live with all what been done and couldn’t go on. Not the way he had to, after everythin’.”
“That’s a God damn lie!” Lawrence bellowed. “He didn’t feel that way at all!”
“We didn’t find any evidence on his body that would say any different, Law!” Braddock hollered back.
Lawrence almost came through the line of deputies for Braddock, almost launched himself at the older man. Deputies held him back, and he shook off three like they were bugs. He quaked, his arms trembling, fists clenched until his knuckles were white. His eyes darted to Everett and then away.
“Annndd,” Braddock said, drawling the word out slowly as he glared toward Lawrence’s corner. “Carson Riley sent a text to you, Law, askin’ you to meet him in that high north pasture the mornin’ you say he was killed. That pasture happens to be right next to where you also say you found Riley swingin’. I wonder why you didn’t mention none of that before. That makes you the last man to see Carson Riley alive. And concealin’ that—” Braddock shook his head.
Silence. Everett could sense the shifts, the flows of tension spiraling higher, the vicious poison seeping from Lawrence in his corner.There’s history in small towns.
There was enough hatred in this one office to start a war.
He’d stepped into a viper’s nest.
“We’ll talk aboutthatlater, Law,” Braddock snapped. “You need handcuffs, boy.” He turned back to Everett. Lowered his voice. His expression shifted, turned pained. His eyes went haunted. “There were other reasons for his suicide. Other things he wrote.”
“Bullshit!” Lawrence shouted.
“Personalthings!” Braddock bellowed back. “How hefelt, Law! You understand me? You get what I am sayin’? You want me to spell it out right now? Or give the dead—and maybe the livin’ if they even deserve it—some God damn respect and privacy?”
Everett’s gaze bounced from Lawrence’s corner and the scowling deputies to Braddock and back. The two were scowling at each other hard enough to murder.
Howell leaned in, whispering in Everett’s ear. “Carson Riley confessed he was gay.”
The whisper hit him like taking a bullet to his center chest, smack in the middle of his body armor. Closing his eyes, he felt the impact, felt himself fall back, knocked flat on the dirt. Felt the air leave his body. He breathed in, didn’t move a muscle. Opened them. He was still ramrod straight, unmoved, unflinching, in Braddock’s office.
Was any of it true?
He cleared his throat. “Sheriff, with all due respect, I have to challenge the coroner’s findings. I believe Carson Riley was murdered. And if that’s the case, there’s reason to suspect that suicide note isn’t genuine.”
Braddock turned his vinegar glare from Lawrence to Everett. “Based onwhat?”
Everett passed the first casting to Braddock. “The scene by Carson’s hanging was almost perfectly clean. There weren’t any boot prints. I couldn’t find trace evidence either, not that finding any in a wilderness environment is easy. I had hoped you’d find something on the body. Fingerprints or signs of a struggle. DNA?”
“We didn’t find anythin’ like that. No sign of struggle. It was a clear case of suicide.”
