Every Deadly Suspicion

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

J OE EXPECTED THE VISITOR. Other than Chaplain Tom, an occasional reporter over the years, the Feds a few times asking about DEA Agent Gilly, and one brief visit from Paula, there had been no visitors in thirty-five years. But he knew his release would bring people out of the woodwork. People who’d been safe in the darkness for all these years. Those same people now smelled blood in the water where he was concerned, and someone would come. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Keyes, you have a visitor. Are you up to it?”

Joe nodded and slowly got to his feet. It took him some time to walk to the visiting area, and his breath got short, but he made it there. His breathing labored, waiting for him to speak first, he sat and stared at the man on the other side of the glass.

“I hear you’re getting out.”

“Maybe. Not sure a final decision’s been made.” The eyes on the other side of the glass were hard, the glare meant to intimidate. Funny thing about knowing that you were dying, Joe thought. You didn’t intimidate easily. As Joe held the man’s glare, he thought he saw something else there, maybe fear.

“I think it has. You’d better tread lightly, Joe. You’d better be careful.”

“I don’t have anything to lose anymore.”

“Not true. Police officers are killed every day in this country. It happens. I’d hate for anything to happen to your daughter.”

Joe swallowed. This was his Achilles’ heel, he knew it. But he also knew that he had to trust God for Hanna.

“You’re afraid of the truth coming out. I won’t spill it. I gave my word a long time ago. I keep my word. But the funny thing about truth, it wants to be heard. And it always has a way of bursting forth.”

“You better hope it doesn’t in this case.” He shoved the chair back and left the room.

While Joe waited for the jailer to come for him, he prayed. For Hanna, for the man who’d just left, and for the truth.

Hanna sat in her kitchen and reread the letter from Joe. The shock of how much it affected her had faded.

What did she expect? He’d be here, in this house. She’d have to talk to him. The reality of the situation sunk in like a heavy stone.

After all this time, what am I supposed to feel? Say? Do?

The doctor gave him less than a month. An eternity. If he was the man her mother described, Hanna would hate him.

She refused to think of the other alternative—her mother’s view was skewed, and Joe was a good man. That couldn’t be true—he brutally murdered two people.

She was hardly ever home. She’d rarely see him. And when he died, it would simply be the end of an unpleasant chapter. There was no comfort in that thought, and Hanna was happy when the shrill sound of an emergency call blared from her radio.

“All units, 999—officer needs assistance—all available units, respond to the Gold Dust Bar, all available units...” The dispatcher’s voice was calm and clear, but it still set Hanna’s heart pumping. She never wanted to hear a 999 code. One of her people was in a bad way and needed all the help he could get right away.

Hanna roared to the parking lot of the bar, code 3. All the units on duty this time of day were already on-scene, and a large crowd milled about, some people still spilling out of the bar. One of her officers had a bloody lip. She notified dispatch she was on-scene and got out to help. She strode to Asa, who was struggling with a large man he’d just handcuffed.

“Asa, what’s going on?” Hanna grabbed the man to lend a hand. The pungent smell of alcohol radiated from the man’s sweat.

“Bar fight that spilled out into the street. Jenna got clocked by this guy.”

“It was an accident! She got in the way,” the drunk man protested. “I don’t hit girls. I was trying to hit someone else.” Despite his protestations, Drunk Guy was securely handcuffed. Hanna helped put the man in the patrol car.

“Yeah,” Asa said when he closed the door. “He was. Trying to hit Jude Carver, he’s the one who started this mess.” He then got on the radio and called code 4 on the situation. Everything was under control.

Hanna shook her head. Jude Carver was bad news from start to finish. She turned to Jenna, the officer with a bloody lip. She held her left hand protectively. “You okay?”

Jenna nodded. “Mostly. When he hit me, I went down, and there were several groups of people fighting. That’s when Carver split.” She held up her hand. “Someone stepped on my hand. I think it’s broken. Everything was out of control, so I hit the emergency button.”

“You needed backup, that was a good call. Carver is at the root of all this. You didn’t see where he went?”

Jenna looked around. “No. And I don’t see him now. At one point he was with Chase Buckley.”

“Chase Buckley was here?”

That was a surprise. Chase was rarely seen around town, and when he was, he was low-key. Hanna did a quick crowd survey; she didn’t see him. She saw her people interviewing witnesses and the crowd rapidly dispersing. Jock, the owner of the Gold Dust Bar, waved his arms around in an animated conversation with someone. It was probably about the damage to his establishment. She’d have to calm him down.

Hanna turned back to Jenna. “I’ll take you to urgent care. Asa, are you going to book the assailant?”

“Yeah, he’s in my car. I’ve got enough of an idea about what went on to book him.”

“How did Carver start all this?”

Her officers exchanged glances.

“He was drunk and bad-mouthing the department. Just being obnoxious as usual. The crowd got riled, somebody threw beer on somebody, and things escalated,” Jenna explained. “It’s so hot and dry today, everyone is on edge, even cranky. Tempers are as volatile as the dry grass. Carver was just the match.”

“Wait in my car. I’ll go talk to Jock and then take you to urgent care.”

Jenna nodded and opened the passenger door.

Hanna felt uneasy suddenly, creeped out. She got the distinct impression someone was watching her. Jerking around, she saw him.

Chase Buckley. He was in the doorway of the tavern.

What surprised Hanna was that he was standing; there were no crutches. He leaned on a cane, and he had a prosthetic leg. How long had he had that?

He didn’t look happy, but then the few times she’d seen him, Chase never looked happy. The scarring on the right side of his face made certain he’d never smile. And he looked old. Chase was probably in his sixties. Maybe even the same age as Joe Keyes.

Had Everett told Chase about Joe? Probably. Forgetting Jock, she headed Chase’s way. “Hello, Chase.”

He nodded, dropped his cigarette on the ground, and crushed it with the end of his cane.

“I hear your daddy’s getting sprung,” he said, his raspy voice difficult to hear.

“Yes. He’ll be on hospice.”

He cursed. “A lot of people aren’t happy that he’s getting out.”

“People like you?” Hanna kept her voice level.

“He should have gotten the chair.”

“Well, he’s got a death sentence now, one there is no parole from.” Thinking of her mother’s sad life, she added, “Will you hang on to your anger for the rest of your life, Chase?”

“Hmph.” He straightened. “I know the guy better than you do. He crossed me more than once. Don’t trust your daddy. That would be a mistake.”

“We still need to sit down and talk about Scott, the morning he died.”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “I didn’t kill my brother. I wouldn’t mess with poison.”

“Did you see or hear anything that morning?”

A jerk of his head she took for a no.

“Did anyone have a beef with Scott?”

Another jerk.

“I heard that Scott planned to take Braden to Corte Madera. Was that fine with you?”

Chase hiked a shoulder. “Planning and doing are two different things.”

“You didn’t like the idea?”

“He’s my grandson. He’ll stay with me.” Chase’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion. Not what she’d expect if he was passionate enough to fight for his son.

“How about Marcus Marshall? Did Scott have a bone to pick with him?”

That got a different reaction, as if Hanna hit a nerve. Chase glared at her. “Marcus?”

“I heard that he had a fight with Scott. Is Marcus writing a book about your family?”

He made a sound that Hanna thought was a chuckle. “You’re way off track.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Marcus rubbed Scott the wrong way since high school. That’s just Marcus. He’s always been soft.”

“If he didn’t kill your brother, who do you think did?”

“Someone at the airfield, it has to be.”

An SUV pulled up; Hanna saw Grover in the driver’s seat.

“I got to go.” Chase turned his back on her and made his way to the passenger side. Limping, using the cane, but navigating okay.

Hanna watched him. He’d lost his right eye and part of his left leg, but after his brother died, he’d still been cleared to drive. Rumor was that Everett had paid people off to get Chase his license back. Hanna never put much stock in rumors. In her lifetime, she could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she’d seen Chase out and about, so she figured he didn’t drive much.

A thought occurred to Hanna. Chase and her father were the only two people who knew what exactly happened that night thirty-five years ago at Beecher’s Mine cabin. Chase always claimed he had no idea what had happened to Mandy’s parents. As the story went, he was doused with acid first and then woke up in intensive care.

“Chief, Chief.”

Hanna turned, her train of thought derailed by Jock. He’d calmed down but was still visibly angry. She forgot Chase and listened to Jock’s complaints and concerns. He was angry with Carver but didn’t want to press charges.

“It would help us if you do press charges, Jock.”

“Sorry, Chief, I can’t. Yeah, he did start things with his big mouth, but others had the choice to walk away, and they didn’t. I think I will ban him from the bar, though.”

“Your choice.”

Hanna returned to chief mode and shut out the daughter of Joe Keyes. Something she hoped she could still do when he was residing in her home.