Chapter 4
Savvy
“Not an animal, Daddy.”
My father shoves a hand under his hat and scratches his head.
When I got here, Phil directed me to the barn, where I found my father making repairs to a hole in one of the pens.
Apparently Angus, my father’s Houdini goat, tried to make a break for it again.
It’s an ongoing battle between man and beast, with Angus holding a firm upper hoof over my dad, who seems to be a constant step behind.
I sought my father’s counsel after waiting all afternoon for Buck to send me his official coroner’s report.
He performed the autopsy as soon as we got the body to the morgue.
I was there, which was not exactly the way I’d envisioned spending my Saturday morning, but if there was any chance of foul play, I wanted to know right away.
Unfortunately, Buck wasn’t talking during the autopsy and said he wasn’t willing to draw any conclusions until he had a chance to study his findings.
I had no choice but to return to the station, where I walked in on Sanchuk trying to choke out Nate Gaines.
What a mess.
The sheriff’s department is housed on the ground level of an old building on Main Street, which dates back to the early nineteenth century.
There are offices up on the second floor but most of them are now empty, except for a lawyer’s office.
The place is in need of major repairs, which the county commission has informed us are not in the budget.
So, we’re doing patchwork every time something breaks, which is often.
That’s why most of the upstairs offices now sit empty.
The broken pipe is just the last on a long list of problems.
The tense situation in the kitchen was quickly resolved when Brenda explained to Deputy Sanchuk, she had called Nate Gaines in to do the repairs, so he had a legitimate reason for being there.
Of course, that did not solve the issue that is Jeff Sanchuk.
His reaction was way over the top and it’s not the first time I’ve had to caution him on his hair-trigger temper.
The man has been a thorn in my side since well before I was sworn in as sheriff, but it hasn’t improved since.
In large part because he had eyes on my job, but even more so because he’s a misogynistic son of a bitch—who doesn’t believe women should be in the workplace—let alone in law enforcement—and definitely not in a role of authority.
On top of that, he has a narrow view of a black-and-white world that does not allow for any flexibility or compassion toward his fellow man.
The only reason he is still with the department is because in 2003, he took a bullet for my father when someone pulled a gun during a bar brawl they were trying to break up.
Sanchuk saw the gun, managed to shove Dad out of the way, and ended up getting shot in the arm.
Just a flesh wound, but it was enough for my father to feel perpetually indebted to him, despite his godawful attitude on the job.
My father’s asked me to let him stay ’til his retirement, but I can’t wait for Sanchuk to make that decision. Not after today. If Nate wanted, he could file assault charges on the deputy and that would put the department in a difficult position.
I don’t need the added stress, definitely not now that it turns out I have a murder to solve.
“Murder?”
I nod at my father. “Looks like it. I’ve called in the WSP for more comprehensive forensic support.”
“Good. Who’s the victim?”
“We think it’s Franklin Wyatt, a forty-three-year-old bank manager from Coeur d’Alene on a fishing trip. He rented one of the Sterling’s cabins on the north side of the lake. Apparently, he went for a hike around the lake yesterday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t an animal attack?” he asks again.
“Our county coroner is convinced it wasn’t,” I reiterate. “But he’s called Tom Richter to have a look at the body as well.”
Richter is the medical examiner for a neighboring county Buck has called before when he wanted a second opinion. Since we may be dealing with a possible crime, I had no objections when he suggested it in this case.
Dad nods his approval.
“We’ll know for sure once Tom has a look at the body,” I add.
“And when is that?”
“They’ll try for tomorrow. The body was picked up this afternoon already.”
“How are you planning to confirm identity? Dental records?”
I nod, recalling the difficult phone call I had with Franklin’s partner, Jeremy, who mentioned he hadn’t thought twice about not being able to get a hold of his husband last night because cell phone reception out by the lake is spotty at best. Poor guy.
I could hear the fear in his voice when he told me he would drive up as soon as he got the kids he’d stayed home to look after to a babysitter.
I don’t think there was anything I could’ve done or said to stop him.
“They’re being sent straight to the medical examiner’s office,” I share, feeling the weight of the world on me.
Dad throws an arm around my shoulders and turns me toward the house.
“You sound already defeated, Toots.”
I turn my head to shoot him a tired smile. “I’m not. I actually didn’t come here about the case.”
Although, I hadn’t been surprised news of the discovered body had already reached my father. He peppered me with questions the moment I got here.
His eyebrows pop up. “You didn’t?”
“It’s about Sanchuk.”
He stops and turns to face me. “Jeff? What has he done now?”
“He assaulted someone. At the station,” I add with emphasis.
“Assaulted? How?”
“He had him in a chokehold, Dad. In the kitchen.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t just trying to restrain a suspect?”
I drop my head back and stare up at the clouds in frustration.
This has always been the issue; my father tries to find excuses or justifications for Sanchuk’s behavior that would’ve been unacceptable from anyone else—out of a misplaced sense of guilt because the guy took a bullet for him decades ago.
That loyalty has held my hands tied for years, but this has gone too far. I don’t need a loose cannon in my department. I don’t need the distraction when I may have a vicious murder on my hands.
“Dad…the person he was assaulting was Nathan Gaines.” I watch as my father’s face darkens at the mention of that name, but he doesn’t seem surprised.
I note it but forge ahead with my point.
“Nate was there to fix the ceiling that fell down in the holding cells. Brenda called him, for crying out loud. He was there to help and Jeff attacked him, unprovoked.”
I recognize the stubborn set of my father’s jaw and brace for his reaction.
“If he was there to fix the ceiling, what the hell was he doing in the kitchen?”
As I anticipated, he’s making it seem like Nate must’ve done something wrong. Nothing has changed, even after all these years. But I have, and I’m not going to stand for it this time. There are many things I can blame Nate for, but this is not one of them.
“That’s enough. You know Sanchuk is a problem and has been for years.
The man is a liability and if Nate wanted, he could file charges.
That might encourage others he’s manhandled or mistreated to come forward and file complaints as well.
Can you imagine the stain that could put on the department’s reputation? ”
Those words seem to cool my father’s temper somewhat. The sheriff’s department is everything to him.
“So is he? Going to file charges?”
I’d honestly been bracing for it after I’d sent Sanchuk home for the day.
Nate would’ve had every right to and I wouldn’t have blamed him.
I still remember all the times he was brought in to be questioned for some crime he didn’t commit.
The price he had to pay for having been what my father called a juvenile delinquent.
A title he had to carry and atone for well into his twenties.
He’s paid enough.
“No, although it would be well within his rights. He owns his own business, is a single father, and from what I can tell hasn’t broken one law since the last time you arrested him at seventeen.
That was twenty-five years ago, Dad. A lifetime.
It’s time to let that shit go, because I won’t stand by while you and the rest of the old guard left at the sheriff’s department continue to judge and condemn a man for his childhood transgressions. That is over.”
I wait a moment, expecting a protest, but it doesn’t come. My father is staring at the dirt on his boots, his hands tucked in his jeans pockets.
“So I’m here to give you a heads-up, I will be calling Jeff Sanchuk into my office tomorrow, and I will request he take his early retirement effective immediately.”
At that his head snaps up. “The man saved my life, Savannah.”
Dad doesn’t often use my full name, it’s either Savvy or Toots, but I won’t let his stern tone affect me.
“Enough with the misplaced loyalty, Daddy. He needs to go,” I insist. “He’s a liability. I am giving him a chance to walk away with his record and his pension intact, otherwise I will be forced to take steps that will not end well for him.”
My father grabs his hat off his head, slaps it against his thigh, and gives me a dirty look as he turns on his heel and marches back toward the barn.
I figured he’d be upset, which is why I came to warn him. He’ll get over it, eventually.
When I turn around, I catch sight of Phil standing on the deck of the house, softly clapping her hands.
“Good riddance,” she says when I get closer. “Never could stand that man.”
“Dad liked him,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“Nah, he didn’t. Not really. He just felt he owed him. But you don’t, so good for you. Your dad will get over his snit.”
“Yeah, eventually.”
“Now…I’m curious…” Phil bumps my shoulder with hers. “Who is this man you so passionately advocated for?”
Nate
I observe my daughter as she puts in her order.
Apparently, she can spare a smile for the waitress, I’d almost forgotten what that looked like.
At least she was willing to come out with me to grab a bite to eat, although she may have had an ulterior motive for agreeing to dinner with her old man. I should’ve been suspicious when she suggested the restaurant.
I spotted them the moment we walked into Bread that kid, Carson, and his father.
I remember Hugo Alexander, but I doubt he remembers me.
He was a big deal for small-town Silence back in the day.
Star quarterback for the high school team before he wrecked his shoulder his first year in college.
I was still in elementary school when I would sneak out on a Friday night and hide in the bleachers to watch the games, dreaming of playing ball like him one day.
What can I say, I was young and stupid, I had stars in my eyes, much like Tate does now, glancing over at Hugo Alexander’s kid. Fuck me.
“And for you?”
I turn to the waitress, who is all smiles.
“I’ll have a bacon burger with mushrooms and Swiss, and a loaded baked potato instead of fries, with a Caesar salad on the side.”
“A healthy appetite, I like it,” she comments before adding, “Can I top up your drinks?”
I’ve barely touched my iced tea and Tate still has half of her drink in front of her, and I’m definitely not in the market for whatever else she has on offer.
“We’re good.”
“All right, then I’ll get the kitchen going on your order right away.”
“Thanks.”
When she walks away, I turn to Tate, who is scrutinizing me.
“What?”
“Eww, you know she’s hitting on you, right?”
I nod. “I’d noticed. Why the ‘eww’? Think your old man is that hideous?” I joke, encouraged she is talking at all and hoping to keep the momentum going through dinner.
“No. She is,” Tate sneers, glaring over to the counter where the woman in question is talking to a colleague.
I’m surprised at her tone. Just moments ago, when she was placing her order with the waitress, she’d been smiling and friendlier than she has been with me lately. I guess that changed when the woman showed an interest in me.
Truthfully, I’m more flattered my daughter does not find me hideous.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” I point out, fulfilling my parental duty.
Tatum rolls her eyes and leans forward across the table.
“Dad, seriously? She’s hitting on you with your daughter sitting right across from you. For all she knows you’re married. That’s not nice, and pretty tacky.”
Can’t argue with that.
Two seconds later, Tate is making eyes at that boy again. When I look over at their table, I catch sight of his father looking this way. He lifts his chin in a silent acknowledgement and I give a nod back.
The next thing I know, he is walking over here with his mortified-looking son in tow.
“Sorry for interrupting.” I take his offered hand as he identifies himself. “Hugo Alexander, and this is my son, Carson.”
“Nate Gaines and my daughter, Tatum.”
“I know. I believe my son has something he’d like to tell you.”
You wouldn’t know it by looking at the kid, who appears about as mortified as my daughter does.
“I’m…uh…sorry.”
“For?” his father prompts him.
The boy shoots his father an angry look, but I’d swear it shows a hint of betrayal as well. I remember that feeling, where people expect the worst of you. Even when you’re trying to do the right thing which, from what I understand, the kid was doing by looking out for my daughter.
The sudden, unexpected kinship I feel with this kid prompts me to turn to his father.
“No, actually, Carson’s got nothing to apologize for.
Your son took care of my daughter, helping her out of a difficult situation at school.
Granted, taking her to a coffee shop instead of alerting a teacher or the principal was probably not the smartest move, but I think he had the right intentions. ”
Alexander looks taken aback and glances over at his son, whose face registers surprise. Guess it doesn’t happen often that someone speaks up for him. I get that too.
“It’s true,” Tatum softly affirms. “I’m new at school and some kids were mean. Carson was just being nice.”
“I see,” the man mumbles, dropping his head before twisting his neck to look at his son. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were too busy being mad at me.”
Ouch. That’s got to hurt. Eating crow isn’t fun and I should know, I did a bit of that myself after finding out my daughter didn’t just skip school.
“Have you guys eaten yet?” I change the subject.
“We’re just waiting for our dinner,” Alexander answers.
“So are we. Why don’t you pull up a couple of chairs?”
I’m not sure where that came from, being social is not my style, but if I’m going to make a go of it here in Silence, I could probably use a friend.
Plus, the beaming smile Tate sends me feels pretty damn good.