Chapter 20
Savvy
“I need at least four volunteer deputies on this. We’re short bodies.”
Hugo and I are trying to work out a schedule for Saturday morning’s harvest parade and the weekend’s festivities.
“I’ll call around,” my right-hand man offers.
We’re not getting very far trying to fill the vacant spots in the department. I have to follow up with Dad to see if he’s been in touch with the county commission, but I’m still pissed at him. Besides, I doubt much can be done in time for the Harvest Fest anyway.
I don’t like calling on the volunteers for jobs like this, when they’d probably rather be participating, but I am spread so thin right now, I can’t afford not to.
Earlier I had both Warren and KC come into my office to ask them some specific questions about their experience with Sanchuk.
Warren had already suggested to me he knew something was up with Sanchuk, but it took me assuring him Jeff had confessed to certain things already, for him to lay it out on the table.
As Warren explained, when the two were working together during Warren’s orientation, Sanchuk had more than once insisted on handling things by himself during certain traffic stops.
He’d even seen money exchanged on a couple of occasions, which he chose to file away as potential personal transactions.
I got the gist Warren didn’t want to be a whistleblower, but as I explained to him, under my leadership there is no place for brotherhood nonsense.
No covering for, or even turning a blind eye to, a colleague’s bad behavior, because one bad apple reflects on us all.
This kind of misguided loyalty undermines the integrity of the department and I made it clear, I would not stand for it.
I gave the same speech to KC, which led him to confess he’d seen some of that same behavior from Jeff.
He even admitted he’d had lunch with him at the Bread & Butter diner a few times.
A lunch they didn’t pay for because apparently Sanchuk caught the chef’s son with an amount of weed in his possession that exceeded the personal use limit.
The kid could stand to lose a much sought after football scholarship with Ohio State he’d just been offered, so Sanchuk cut him a break, but used the incident to pressure the boy’s father into feeding him free of charge.
That confession left me in a bit of a pickle.
I should be disciplining KC since he participated in something he clearly knew was wrong, at the very least he enjoyed the spoils of what amounts to extortion.
Yet, at the same time, I recognize as a rookie officer, he felt pressured into a difficult situation.
He’d felt guilty and claims he never joined Sanchuk for a meal again.
Instead of some kind of sanction, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt, since he came clean about the diner.
I told him I’d make a notation in his file but would remove it if he kept his nose clean for the next two years.
When I confronted Hugo with what had been going on, he shook his head. He admitted he’d been overwhelmed with what had been going on in his personal life, he’d barely been able to focus on his own job, and opted to ignore anything else.
I’ve got three more guys I need to sit down with—I can hopefully catch Lloyd this afternoon when he comes in—but I get the sense I’ll probably hear similar stories from all three of them. They saw or knew about it, but chose to ignore it, and that would be the best-case scenario.
To be honest, I’ve been thinking back to my own time as a deputy, working alongside Jeff Sanchuk, and there were times I was guilty of turning a blind eye to things I suspected weren’t on the up and up myself.
Heck, even as sheriff, I’ve known for a while Sanchuk couldn’t really be trusted, but it’s taken me until now to do something about it.
I’m as complicit as everyone else.
The yoke of this office has never felt heavier on my shoulders than it does now.
Getting this department back on track is going to take some doing, but there is no shortcut. For us to be a reliable, cohesive unit, I have to first upset the apple cart.
“Are you okay?” Hugo asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I realize I’ve been standing here, staring at the whiteboard we’ve got this weekend’s schedule marked up on.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, too much going on, my head is spinning,” I confess.
“Why don’t you leave the Harvest Fest schedule with me? I’ll get Brenda to help me make some calls, so you can focus on Ben Rogers’s case.”
He’s right. The problem trying to tackle too many things at the same time is that none of them will get the attention they deserve.
I need to start scratching things off my list, not adding more, just because I want to prove I can do it all by myself.
That’s ultimately not how I best serve and protect the public, which is my job.
Delegation it is.
“Okay. That would be great. And I’ve asked my father to use his connections with the county commission to see if we can get some more funding for additional deputies.”
“Doesn’t help if we can’t even fill the current positions,” Hugo points out.
Admittedly, that’s an issue.
“Get Brenda to list the two positions to start on local, state, and federal government websites, law enforcement job boards, any applicable professional organizations, and wherever else she thinks is appropriate. And I’d like you to scan any incoming applications,” I add.
“Okay. And, if you don’t mind a suggestion, why not make one of those extra deputies you’re trying to get money for a detective’s position. Someone with investigative experience, so it won’t always fall on you to head investigations. You already have an important job running this department.”
I’m trying not to hear the criticism in that suggestion, but I do. It’s a gentle reminder where my focus should be.
Be that as it may, in our current situation, I don’t have much of an option, which is why I get to my feet and fit my ball cap on my head. Then I snatch my jacket with the Sheriff’s Office blazoned across the back, and head for the door.
“I hear you, but for right now I have to get out to Quarry Road. I’m already late for my meeting with Wanda.”
Wanda is not the one opening the door at her place, it’s Dozer.
There is no mistaking the reason he is here when he leads me into the living room and takes a seat beside the new widow and drapes his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close.
He does it with purpose and intent, clearly keen to bring the suspected affair out in the open right off the bat.
As much as I can appreciate the blunt honesty of the gesture, I’m afraid neither Dozer nor Wanda are doing themselves any favors. Not with Ben lying on a cold slab in the county morgue, his face unrecognizable from the lethal beating he took.
“Wanda…Dozer…I don’t need to tell you, your timing is not good.”
“We beg to differ,” Wanda speaks up. “There were already a few tongues wagging, and we figure trying to hide would do more damage than good.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s not wrong, but now the whole town is going to wonder whether the two of them didn’t collectively decide to get rid of Ben. I’m sure some of them were wondering as much already.
The kicker is, I don’t think many would blame them, at least not Wanda. His abuse of her was well documented and he wasn’t a particularly loved resident of Silence. He would get drunk, belligerent, and got into altercations with people all the time.
The truth is, there likely are plenty of people who might have wished Ben dead at one time or another. However, there is only one person who followed through on it.
It’s up to me to find out who.
Nate
“We missed you last night.”
I turn around to find Tim, Roy Battaglia’s dart buddy, standing next to an SUV in the next driveway over from Savvy’s place.
“Hey,” I greet him, cocking my thumb at the well-tended bungalow next door in contrast to Savvy’s somewhat rundown place. “Didn’t realize you lived here.”
“My mom does. I’m just checking in on her. She hasn’t been feeling well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She’s that age, you know, where the body starts giving out. We’ve been talking about maybe moving her to Snowcrest Manor. She already has friends living there, but she hates giving up this house.”
I catch him studying the place.
“It’s tough,” I commiserate, even though I know nothing about the kind of situation he finds himself in.
My mother died relatively young—not much older than I am now—and I have no clue who my father is or whether he’s alive or not.
“Anyway, I thought for sure you’d be back so we could kick your ass in darts this time,” Tim pivots the subject back to Monday night.
“Maybe next week.”
“Sounds good.”
He looks like he’s ready to get into the vehicle when he turns back.
“Hey, what are you doing over there at the sheriff’s place anyway?”
“I’m…um…a contractor. She’s asked me to look at some work she wants done to the house.”
He nods and checks out the bungalow behind me. “Sure could use it.” He reaches for the handle and opens the door. “Anyway, I’d best get going. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“For sure.”
First thing I did when I got here was walk around the outside of the house to look for any obvious issues.
Lucky for Savvy, the roof appeared to be in good condition and the windows look like they were replaced within the last couple of years.
I couldn’t see any cracks in the foundation on the outside, but we’ll see once I get into the basement.
I hear a whizz and the sharp click of the lock opening when I punch in the code on the keypad. That and the front door are obviously upgrades as well.
It’s a promising start, the house looks to have good bones—although I’ll have to confirm that once I’ve had a look at the basement—and it’s sitting on a nice, large and mature, pie-shaped lot.
It’s a little weird, walking through Savvy’s house without her here, it feels a bit stalkerish.
Still, I whip out my tape measure and start jotting down measurements and rough sketches of the layout.
I have software on my computer at home that will translate the measurements and markings I enter into an easy to navigate 3D image of the house and each individual space, with walls, windows, and doors all marked.
I’ll be able to move or adjust all the individual components to show what is possible for the overall space.
The place has three bedrooms. One is used as extra storage, and the second one is set up as a home office. When I put my hand on the door to the third room, I know I’m about to go into Savvy’s bedroom and hesitate for a moment.
I’m surprised at its starkness. The entire house is lacking in personality, but I figure that was because she wanted changes made before investing time or money into decorating. Her bedroom, however, I would’ve expected to show a little more of Savvy.
The bed was straightened in a hurry, and one drawer of the white dresser against the wall across from the bed was left open with some of the contents hanging out. A laundry basket sitting next to it is overflowing, yesterday’s uniform on top.
It smells like Savvy though. Nothing heavy, just a hint of the shampoo or body wash she must’ve used in the shower this morning lingering in the air. It’s good, fresh, wholesome, and yet my body responds like it’s the most mysteriously seductive scent.
The only other thing standing out to me is the picture frame on the single nightstand.
Curiosity has me approach and pick it up.
Even though I had a reasonable expectation of what the image might depict, it’s still a bit of a shock to the system.
Savvy, happy in the arms of another man, with Auden in the background, photobombing the couple as he smiles at the camera.
So this is Matt.
As much as I want to, I can’t envy a man who died way too young. I can, however, regret missing any opportunity to make Savvy happy going forward.