Page 39 of Finding Silence
“Grace, you haven’t heard my last few conversations with him. Or maybe those are better described as his progressively angry rants at me. He threatened he knew where to find me and called me a cunt.”
I walk to the front window and peer out to see Brant and his daughter standing next to her cruiser, talking animatedly. Not wanting to be caught looking, I swing around to face Grace.
“That same word was painted on my damn walls in human shit,” I finish explaining. “I know it was him, and now it looks like he may have done more than just vandalize my music room.”
“What do you mean?” Grace asks sharply, her brow furrowing.
“Deputies found drugs and drug paraphernalia in my bedside table.”
“Drugs? What kind of drugs?”
“Crystals. Meth, I think. I’m not sure.”
I’m about to tell her about the bottle of scotch as well when Brant returns.
“Everything okay?” I ask him instead.
“Fine,” he grumbles, and I wonder if he and Savvy had an argument over something.
Brant
* * *
I’m doing my best to get my frustration in check before I bite someone else’s head off.
I about did that with my daughter.
Most of my frustration is with the Portland Police Department who apparently have a record of all of these wackos out there sending threats and bizarre stuff to Phil, but are still sitting on their goddamn hands now that someone has escalated to breaking into and defiling her house. Planting drugs. Shit, they may have even attempted to poison her.
Which is exactly what Savvy apparently told the detective she spoke to at the Portland PD after she’d found out about the bottle. She’d called them back and asked again for them to check on Duncan Brothers’s whereabouts, but those guys still don’t see it as a priority. I guess they’re waiting for a damn body before it even pings on their radar.
Everybody’s overstretched and understaffed. Even our own small sheriff’s department is stretched thin, with Chief Deputy Alexander by his wife’s bedside in Spokane, Deputy McCormick still at home recovering from surgery. Then this morning Jeff Sanchuk apparently called in sick, after Savvy gave him a piece of her mind when she caught him all but slapping handcuffs on Phil when he found drug paraphernalia in her nightstand.
Overzealous bastard. Always so quick to pull out the cuffs, eager to make the collar, but doesn’t bother waiting for the evidence to come in. It’s landed him in trouble more than a handful of times over the years, and has only gotten worse since Savvy took the office he’d been eyeing his entire career. Vindictive bastard too, calling in sick, knowing that means Savvy will likely have to work around the clock to try and make up for the slack.
So I’m pissed, because now I feel torn, wanting to give my daughter a hand before the workload takes her down, but I can’t exactly leave Phil alone and exposed either.
“I’m going to put my stuff away,” Phil’s manager announces as she slips into the hallway to the guest rooms.
I guess she’s going to be hanging around, which is almost complicating things.
Wrapping my fingers around Phil’s wrist, I give her a little tug to the back door.
“Need to talk to you,” I mumble by way of explanation when she raises her eyebrows at me.
Out on the deck, I steer her to the left, as far away from the guest rooms as we can get for privacy.
“Is something wrong?”
I hate seeing the worry in her eyes, so I force a smile on my lips as I use my thumb to unstick a stray curl caught at the corner of her mouth. Then I kiss her lightly.
“Logistical issues mostly,” I share. “Savvy is short three deputies at this point, and in a department with only eight to begin with, it means overtime for everyone, including the sheriff, who already burns the candle at both ends.”
“Can she hire someone?”
“Not easy. It’s a struggle to get qualified people to join such a small force. Most of them prefer the big city where they’ll see more action. And any qualified locals are already on the payroll. A few years back I started going into the schools in the county to do presentations. We now have one young deputy as a result of those talks, but it’s a long-term investment with a small yield. We put out feelers in other departments and sometimes luck out when someone wants out of the rat race and to scale down their life, but still work in law enforcement. But we haven’t had one of those since I hired Warner Burns three years ago.”
“Could you help?” she asks, studying me closely.
