Page 38 of The Sound of Sleighbells

She glanced at the clock. Skip should be home before long. If she ordered the pizza now, it would arrive hot and ready soon after he walked in.

She made the call, then settled back with the girls to watch a kiddie show on TV and wait. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Strange, she thought. It was too soon for the pizza to arrive. Skip wouldn’t ring the bell, and she wasn’t expecting anyone else.

Leaving the girls on the couch, she hurried to answer the door.

Sheriff Buck Winston stood on the porch. The grim expression on his face told her this wasn’t a social call.

He looked past her to where the girls sat on the couch. “Is there someplace where we can talk privately?” he asked.

She felt the blood drain from her face. “What is it? Has something happened to Skip?”

“He’s fine, as far as I know. If you don’t mind putting on a jacket, we can talk on the porch. This won’t take long.”

Her jacket was on the coatrack by the door. She slipped it on, went outside, and closed the door behind her. Her heart was pounding like a pile driver. “What is it, Buck? Is it something about Ed?”

Buck shook his head. “I’ve come from Silas’s garage. One of his mechanics was working on your station wagon. When he took the panel off the tailgate to replace the broken glass, he found something. He showed Silas, and Silas called me.”

Without waiting for another question from her, he pulled a plastic snack bag out of his pocket. It was half-filled with white powder. Ruth fought a wave of nausea as she realized what it was.

“There was a gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with these, ready for sale,” the sheriff said. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Ruth. But I’ll need to talk to your son about this.”

Chapter Nine

Ruth stared at the sheriff. “Surely you don’t think these drugs are Skip’s. He’s always been a good boy. He would never—” She couldn’t even say the words.

“I’m sorry, Ruth, but we have to look at all the possibilities. You’re not a suspect. You wouldn’t have taken your wagon to the garage if you’d known about the stash. But teenage boys have been known to use and sell drugs or to act as mules for traffickers. I hope I’m wrong, but Skip does have access to your vehicle. We can’t rule him out.”

“But where would he get drugs? He couldn’t buy them.”

“Skip’s been working for Judd Rankin. Judd has a friend staying there who’s done time for dealing drugs. He could have talked Skip into hiding the cocaine for him.”

“No!” This was getting worse and worse. “Judd promised me he wouldn’t let Digger near the boys.” Her mind scrambled for some shred of hope. “Can’t you dust the bag for fingerprints? That should tell you something.”

“We plan to. Digger’s prints are on file. We could fingerprint Skip, or I could take something of his, like a glass or a soda can, and get the prints off that. That way, if the prints clear him, I won’t have to bring him in. I’d do that as a favor to you.”

“Thank you.” Ruth’s heart was still pounding. “There’s a water glass in his room. I know better than to handle it myself. Do you want something of mine, too?”

“That could be helpful.” He handed her two plastic bags.

“I’ll hurry,” she said. “Skip will be home any minute. I don’t want to upset him unless I have to.”

She went inside, hurried to Skip’s room, and slipped one bag over his glass. Then she took a small mirror from her purse and put it in the other. Thank goodness it was Buck handling the situation. A different lawman would have barged in, terrified the girls, and dragged Skip off to lockup.

This has to be a mistake. Dear God, it just has to be!

Ruth rushed back outside and handed him the bags. “Will you call me as soon as you’ve checked the prints?” she asked.

“Yes. It’ll probably be tomorrow morning.”

“And, Buck, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

She squared her shoulders and raised her head. “If you find my son’s prints on those drugs, I promise I’ll bring him in myself. All right?”

The sheriff nodded. “All right, Ruth. Let’s hope it won’t be necessary.”

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