Chapter 20
“Where is he?” Blaze demanded as he stormed into the station, Sheriff Myers standing right up front.
The sheriff made a face. “Who?”
“The main suspect in this investigation,” he snapped, removing his hat. “He made such a dang scene in that funeral, the whole town is going to be talking about it for years to come.”
“Garrett isn’t the main suspect in this investigation, and for the record,” he growled. “You gotta quit listenin’ to all the rumors floating around this place. No one blabbing ever knows the truth—and if they do, they ain’t telling the right information. On purpose.”
“Maybe, but he sure as hell is acting guilty,” Blaze bit back, not caring that he sounded biased.
“The only thing my son is guilty of is being stupid enough to get wasted and come to a funeral,” Sheriff Myers took as step forward, leveling eye to eye with Blaze. “I get that you wanna play hero, but you gotta lay off Garrett and take a step back, look at the whole picture.”
“He stormed in that funeral, disrespecting?—”
“And we got him out.”
Blaze threw up his hands. “Did you not see him fixing to assault Beth Young?”
Sheriff Myers broke into dry laughter. “You ain’t got a clue. My son would go to hell and back for that girl. He pretty much has. She was the only witness in the accident all those years ago, and his attorney wanted to bring her in to testify, but you know what my son did? He let her go off and start a new life, not wanting to stop her from moving on—while he faced it alone.”
Blaze ran his fingers through his hair. “And that’s your story, but that’s not Lucas’s. Everyone’s got something different to say about that night with Sam Young, and the only thing I saw in the file was him pleading guilty to reckless driving and vehicular manslaughter. Didn’t even take a blood alcohol level, but I guess you didn’t want him to get knocked with a DUI, too.”
“He wasn’t drunk. Not from alcohol,” Sheriff Myers shook his head, his hardened face softening. “He was head over heels for Beth Young. Sam was pissed when he found out they were together that night. He caught them. Sam was hammered, his blood alcohol level testing nearly four times the legal limit, plus having taken some uppers. He got combatant when he drank. Got rough with his sister, and Garrett wasn’t gonna let that happen.”
“The two got in a nasty fist fight,” the sheriff continued. “Which led to Beth and Garrett arguing that night. Garrett was doing what he does, taking care of the people he cares about. He loaded the Youngs up in his truck, but Beth was mad. She didn’t want to ride up front with Garrett, and Garrett didn’t want Sam in the back with her—but he wasn’t going to leave his best friend behind. ”
“They were headed back to the Young’s ranch, on the main road. Garrett said Sam went back to arguing with him, telling him something about wrecking his truck. Sam then jerked the steering wheel, flipped the truck at highway speeds. Sam was ejected. Garrett and Beth walked away, though Beth had a severe concussion.” Sheriff Myers sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Anything else you need to know? Since you’ve been in the case file, you’d know he was charged accordingly. I never stopped them from ruining his life, but I wish I had done more. He didn’t deserve what he got, but the only person who could vouch for the cause of the accident had left him. She never saw him again after that night—well, till now, I guess.”
Blaze rubbed his brow, the solemn story making a heck of a lot more sense than whatever Lucas was claiming. “And Sarah?”
He shrugged. “No clue. I don’t know where Garrett was that night, but I know that he’d never hurt any woman.”
“Everyone’s pointing their finger at him, you know that, right?” Blaze had calmed down, his tone more thoughtful than accusatory.
“They always do,” Sheriff Myers chuckled. “You should know that by now. It’s always easier to point the finger at the screw up, than it is to start looking closer to home. Sarah had a lot of people in her life, and she was a good kid, but she was too nice sometimes.”
“Yeah, I can agree with that.” Blaze stopped his thought there, as his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out, and the familiar name sent his head spiraling.
You gotta be kidding me.
“I gotta take this,” he said quickly to Sheriff Myers. “But I’m still not writing Garrett off.”
“He’s got a temper,” Sheriff Myers added before Blaze could answer. “And if needed, I don’t think he’d refrain from pulling a trigger—but he ain’t gonna go killing someone that doesn’t deserve what’s coming to them.”
Blaze didn’t say anything to that, answering the phone instead, and stepping outside of the station. “Been a while. Why are you calling me?”
“Heard through the grapevine this morning there was a murder in Blaine County. I got a little curious and looked into it,” Special Agent Daniel Malone said, his voice flat. “And lo and behold, Deputy Blaze Harris was listed on the report as an investigator. How’d you pull that off?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blazed gritted out.
“Well…” Daniel’s voice trailed off, still cold and calculating when it picked up again. “I just find it interesting that a man who seems to be leaving a trail of bodies behind himself would end up landing a job as a Sheriff’s Deputy.”
“Being a person of interest doesn’t show up on a background check.”
“No, I suppose not,” Daniel chuckled. “But what references did you write down? Because I feel a person of interest in six homicides would be indicated somewhere in there.”
Blaze glanced around the parking lot, and then lowered his voice. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with any of those.”
“Do I?” Daniel scoffed. “Because your trail of coincidences can only go on for so long. You know, I was about to congratulate on body number seven when I saw your name, but it seems that the MO doesn’t fit Sarah Armitage’s case.”
A chill ran down Blaze’s spine, his mind playing recollections of deaths he wished he could erase. “No, it doesn’t fit. Lucky me. This time.”
“ This time,” Daniel echoed him, his voice taking an indiscernible tone. “How many years has it been? Three? Four?”
Blaze swallowed hard. “Something like that.”
“Hmm, well,” he paused. “Best of luck to you. The first homicide case you work always stays with you—especially if you’re close to the victim.”
“Yeah,” Blaze choked out, bile rising in his throat. “I gotta go. Got things to do.”
“You always do. We’ll be in touch.” Agent Daniel Malone ended the call then, and Blaze was left, standing in his uniform just outside of the front glass doors. Feeling more unnerved than ever, he shoved the phone into his pocket, and took a step toward his truck—just in time to see Ty Miller’s white lifted truck roaring into the parking lot.
Really? Right now? Blaze readied himself, staying in place as the truck parked and Ty jumped out, still in his funeral clothes. “This the most I’ve see you boys since the drug bust a couple years ago.”
Ty scowled. “Maybe if you’d actually do your job, we wouldn’t have to show up here.”
“Right. So, what can I help you with?”
“I need to make a report,” Ty walked up, chest to chest with Blaze. “ Now. ”
“We’ve already taken care of the incident at the funeral today, Ty,” Blaze shoved past him, ready to go out and ride horses—and try to forget about his own problems, too. “Go home…or wherever.”
“It ain’t about today. It’s about last night.” Ty followed Blaze as he walked away .
“Sheriff Myers is in there. Go talk to him,” Blaze snapped. “He can take your report.” A hand landed on Blaze’s shoulder, shoving him around, and it took everything Blaze had not to throw a punch.
“You’re the only person in this town that ain’t a biased idiot. ” Ty jabbed Blaze in the center of his chest. “I want you to listen to what I gotta say, and I think you’d care to know, personally. Lucas said you’re real interested in Garrett Myers.”
Blaze frowned, suddenly regretting showing any curiosity whatsoever. “Tell me whatever you gotta tell me but make it quick.” He prepared himself for more baseless hearsay.
“Last night, I went to pay Garrett Myers a visit.”
“You shouldn’t be doin’ that,” Blaze immediately commented. “You need to leave the guy alone. It’ll just get you in trouble.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dad,” Ty snorted. “Anyway, I just wanted to chat . After all, he and I were buddies back in the day. You know, he was Sam’s best friend, and there wasn’t a dang thing wrong with him until he started sneaking around with Beth—but when I showed up, Beth Young was there.”
Blaze sighed. More drama. “It really doesn’t matter who was at his house, and y’all really need to start obsessing over something else. Way too many people are invested in whatever is going on with those two, and to me, it sounds like they’re just trying to work out some kinks from the past.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Ty laughed. “They can do whatever they want. That’s not what I’m here to report. It’s the fact that he shot at me.”
Blaze narrowed his eyes. “And you think maybe you deserved it?”
“That ain’t your job to decipher. The boy’s a felon. He ain’t supposed to have a pistol. Black powder only. I would know, ‘cause I am one—and I abide by the rules.”
“Okay. I’ll look into it.” Blaze had no intention of looking into it. He needed a beer and a break from all the drama, and for that reason, he started toward his truck again.
“He gave it to Beth,” Ty called after him. “And I heard from the rumor mill that Sarah was done in by a gun, right? So why wouldn’t you take that gun and test it? Whatever you people do with them.”
Blaze hesitated, turning back to him. “What caliber was it?”
“I think it was a .45.”
His heart thudded an extra beat. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.” He then climbed into his truck, like nothing had jarred his attention, but as soon as the door closed and he was pulling out of the parking lot, he dialed Daniel Malone back.
“I didn’t expect you to miss me this quick,” Daniel answered, his voice flat.
“You had access to Sarah’s file, right? That’s how you knew I was considered an investigator?” Blaze got right to the point. “Can you do anything to get a preliminary indication of what caliber the gun was? We didn’t find any shell casings at the scene.”
“Didn’t see anything on that in the file…”
“Yeah, because no one cares about this county,” Blaze snapped. “We have nothing past what we found at the crime scene. We don’t even have their preliminary report yet.”
Agent Malone sighed. “You’re asking me to get it for you then? Seriously? Why don’t you call?”
“You have more pull,” Blaze reluctantly admitted. “Sarah’s family deserves closure—just as much as your family deserves it as well. ”
There was silence on the line.
“What caliber? Right?” Daniel finally asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let me make a call.” With that, he hung up. But before Blaze had even made it out of town, his phone pinged with a text.
Daniel Malone: Preliminary report sent to your department. Weapon was .45 Caliber.