Her hands shook on the steering wheel all the way to the ranch, and her foot trembled on the gas pedal as if she had palsy. It got so bad that she stalled out the truck a couple of times and had to roll to the shoulder to start it up again. As she finally neared the ranch’s front gate, she drove past the two-bedroom house where Red Bosch lived free, one of the perks of working full-time for her grandfather, and also one of the disadvantages. To hide her visits, they resorted to putting her truck in the garage and closing the door on it. Jody saw that the garage door was open to let his dog in, as it always was if she wasn’t there. She thought about stopping to tell him about Crosby -and how right Red had been about the Rocks and the pork tenderloin at Bailey’s-but she decided not to delay seeing her family.
Inside the gate, just after she turned in, she opened her truck door, leaned over and threw up in the grass.
29
THE HENDERSON COUNTY sheriff’s SUV was parked in front of the house when Jody drove up. She took a quick swig of water from the bottle in her truck-water that was tepid now-swished it around her mouth and spat it out. Then she popped in a couple of breath mints, and hurried to the kitchen door with the milk in both hands. Once inside the kitchen, she put one half gallon into the refrigerator, then went up to her grandmother-who stood at the stove turning over pieces of chicken with a long fork-kissed her on the cheek and set down the other half gallon on a countertop near her. She still wanted to say, Why didn’t you let me go with you to see the governor? Instead, she held back again.
Forcing herself to sound normal, she said, “Am I in time for the gravy?”
“Just right.” Her grandmother gave her a tired smile. “Go listen to what the sheriff is saying and come back and tell me.”
“Would you rather that I stir and you go?”
Annabelle shook her head. “No. I might say something I’ll regret.”
“You? To the sheriff? Why?”
“Just go on.”
Obediently, Jody followed the sound of a male voice coming from the direction of the living room. She passed through the dining room, where plates, napkins, and silverware were stacked, waiting to be placed around the big oak table with its man-sized upholstered chairs. Surprised to find that it wasn’t set yet-with her grandmother so far along toward finishing supper-Jody surmised that the sheriff’s visit was unexpected and interrupted the routine.
When she walked into the living room, she saw Sheriff Don Phelps standing beside the oak coffee table in front of the couch that her grandmother had recently redone in yellow silk to match the elegant floral print of her armchairs. It was a beautiful, feminine room, a contrast to the more traditional western appearance of the family room, her grandfather’s office, and the study that the men used more often, and where the decor ran more toward brown leather and dark wood.
Everyone was standing, like the sheriff, leading her to think he had only just arrived. She slid in beside her aunt Belle, who stood in front of the wall just inside the room. Jody crossed her hands behind her, swallowed the bit of mint left in her mouth, and leaned back until her palms touched the wall. She felt shaky and upset from her encounter with Billy Crosby, and it was hard to concentrate on what was going on in front of her. Her mind kept jumping back to him-what he’d said, what she’d said to him, how vicious he had sounded, how crude and intimidating and aggressive he was. Clearly, he was not a convict whom prison had softened into remorse, or rehabilitated. She was proud of herself for standing up to him, though she doubted she had disturbed him in the least. He’d laughed at her, made fun of her, threatened her family and showed no feeling at all for what he’d done to her. And his son! Collin Crosby was almost worse-purposely throwing his psycho father back into the path of innocent people, like tossing a hand grenade down the main street of Rose.
An involuntary shudder went through her.
“Where have you been?” her aunt whispered.
Jody turned her shudder into a shrug. “Where’s Meryl?”
“Coming. Shh.”
“-talked to Billy,” the sheriff was saying.
Hearing that name, Jody stood up straight and paid more attention.
Phelps was in his sixties now, paunchy, and gray-haired under the brown felt cowboy hat he had taken off and was revolving in his beefy hands. His name and fame had been made locally by his quick arrest and conviction of Billy Crosby. Since then, only rarely had another man-and never a woman-campaigned against him for the office of sheriff of Henderson County. Jody knew him only because he liked to stop teenage drivers and check for drugs or alcohol, and she had been in a few cars that he pulled over when she was younger.
“Your parents will thank me,” he was famous for saying.
Now she listened as he informed his small audience, “I stopped by their house just before I came out here. I warned him that if anything bad happens to any member of this family, anything at all, I’m coming after him. I told him if Hugh-Jay’s girl gets so much as a flat tire, I’m going to check the nail to see if it’s his. If Mrs. Linder stubs her toe, I’m going to assume Billy tripped her. And the same holds true for the judge who tried him, the members of that jury, the county attorney, his own lawyer, and every one of my deputies who worked the case at that time. I told him he is under suspicion for every bad thing that happens in my county from now until he leaves again, and he’d just better live and conduct himself in a manner that befits that.”
He sounded forceful and looked proud of himself.
Jody expected to see the men in her family nodding their appreciation.
Instead, they were staring at him with less than friendly expressions on their faces.
“You should have run an honest investigation, Don,” Chase said, launching an attack with no preamble.
Jody gasped imperceptibly and touched her aunt’s arm.
Belle glanced at her, but Jody noticed that neither Belle, nor her grandfather, nor her uncle Bobby appeared surprised or offended by Chase’s bald accusation. Instead, they just kept steadily staring at Phelps, whose face had taken on a reddish hue.
They’ve discussed this, she thought, whatever it is.
Jody also had the thought that the sheriff didn’t know what he was walking into when he’d shown up at their front door. She’d seen it before in her lifetime, when her family came to a unified decision and joined forces. Most of the time it was for ordinary reasons-whether to tear down an old barn and build a new one, or alter the composition of their cattle feed with the goal of boosting calf weights. Often it was directed toward civic beneficence-funding a senior trip, electing a judge. But sometimes it was directed at a common enemy-a breeder who lied to them, a buyer who shorted them. In those cases, Jody didn’t envy anyone who stood in the path of her family’s will and decision. She just didn’t know, this time, what that decision was, or why they’d come to it. Maybe that’s why they’d been after her to arrive sooner, she realized-so she could be part of it. Out in the kitchen, her grandmother obviously was involved, to judge by what she’d said to her.
“Well, now, that’s one hell of a thing to say, Chase.” The sheriff had gone rigid, and now spoke in a tone as cold as the looks he was getting from the people around him. “You’re going to have to explain to me just what the hell you mean by that.”
“It’s not hard to figure out, is it?” Chase said with a wry hard tone. “You chose not to investigate things you should have investigated and question people you should have questioned. You withheld evidence that should have gone to the defense.”