Chapter 3
Nate
The bodies haven’t yet begun to reek, but they will soon. Nate watches the two teens slump under the bridge, the needles that killed them lying on the dirty ground next to them. He wonders if they could feel their own deaths. Was it a nasty seizure or was it more like slowly slipping into oblivion?
He bets it was a seizure. Overdosing is a shitty way to go, but it’s not like anyone forced them to become drug addicts. You reap what you sow, as his poor excuse for a mother used to say.
Sheriff Buchanan shakes his head, his bald head glittering under the sun.
The man looks tired and agitated, and who can blame him?
Carter County, Wayne County, Ripley County, and even Oregon County—all struggle with an overwhelming wave of drugs flooding the streets.
It’s been like this for a long time, but the last few years have seen a sharp rise, and now Nate wonders if the sheriff is about to be out of a job.
“Should we check for fingerprints?” Nate asks, because it feels like something a cop should ask.
“Sheryl already took care of that. Did you know these two?”
“Nope.” He likely would have known them if they were from Van Buren, but these two teens are—were—likely from one of the other small towns in Carter County.
The sheriff sighs and shakes his head. “Where are all these damn drugs coming from?”
Nate keeps his mouth shut and watches as Sheryl scans the area for clues. A waste of time, in Nate’s opinion. What kind of clues are they going to find—a murder weapon? It’s right there, shaped like a needle.
With Sheryl about one hundred feet away, the sheriff quietly says, “Once again, my gut tells me the mayor knows more than he lets on.”
Nate crosses his arms. Accusing Mayor Walker is dangerous, which is why the sheriff hasn’t shared his suspicion with many people. He’s likely only sharing it with Nate because of his friendship with Joel back in the day.
“Why would the mayor want dead people on the streets? It’s not a good look.”
The sheriff snorts. “Ray doesn’t care. The blame falls on our department. I’d expect the mayor to be breathing down my neck to solve this.”
“And doesn’t he?”
The sheriff shakes his head. “Barely mentions it.” He lowers his voice further. “There might be a way to get more information about what’s going on with that man.”
Nate suspects where this is going, and his heart beats with excitement. He waits for the sheriff to continue.
“We know he goes to his uncle whenever those rich folks come over. They always stay there for hours, and there isn’t any reason I can think of for someone like Will Thomas to hang out with such people. As far as I know, he never visits his uncle without them around.”
“Well, yeah, that’s super suspicious. We both know that Will is bad news. Even before what he did to Joel, I—” The words die in his mouth. “Sorry, boss. So, do you want me to follow him?” Please say yes.
“Maybe. Are you and he on speaking terms?”
“Well… nope.”
“I see.”
“But I can figure something out.” The sheriff has been strict about his people not harassing Will so they don’t get on a collision course with the mayor. The sheriff is the only one who still gets to play with Will from time to time, which isn’t fair.
The sheriff nods, though he seems hesitant. “You can try getting information out of him, but be careful and subtle.”
Nate’s head already spins with ideas. Hell, these ideas have been spinning there for years, waiting for a green light. “Sure thing, boss.”
“I found nothing,” Sheryl says as she comes closer, holding her cigarette. She used to dye her hair red, but now it’s mostly black again, with a touch of gray.
“When are they picking up the bodies?” the sheriff asks.
“They should be here soon. Mind if I split? My nephew arrives tomorrow, and I need to buy some groceries.”
Nate chuckles. “Are you gonna play mom, Sheryl?”
“Fat chance. I’ll be keeping him out of trouble for a while, not breastfeeding.”
Nate shivers at the thought of milk coming out of Sheryl’s wrinkly tits.
“You two can leave,” the sheriff says. “Nate, be sure to look into what we talked about.”
Nate salutes. “No need to tell me twice!”
No need at all.
*
Is it weird that Nate knows Will Thomas’s schedule to a T? What time he goes to work, when he visits his sister, when he goes to the cemetery, and when he hangs out at Rodie’s. Yeah, maybe it is a bit weird, but since no one knows about it but him, why should he care?
He’s sitting in the dimmest corner of Rodie’s, making him hard to spot while providing a great angle to spy on Will, Bradley and Esteban. They eat and drink their beers, occasionally stopping to play darts or pool.
It’s interesting seeing Will out and about.
A few years ago, he wouldn’t have dared to show his face in such a public place.
Maybe he thinks that people have short memories or forgiving hearts, which is false on both accounts.
But people do tend to move on eventually, until something happens that stirs the pot once more.
The place is crowded enough to make Nate easy to miss.
Some say hello to him in passing, but he’s here on a mission, not to socialize.
He’s been sitting at the same place for over an hour, waiting for the right time to execute his plan.
It’s one hell of a risk that he’s about to take, but how often does he get the sheriff’s approval to try something like this?
Though, if he’s honest, the sheriff would never have greenlit Nate’s plan, but that’s on him for not asking questions.
He could technically try to engage Will in conversation before moving on to more risky methods, but Will won’t fall for that.
Nate would have gotten the ball rolling earlier this evening instead of sitting like a dummy, but that would have seemed suspicious. By now, Will has drunk two beers and one shot of tequila, making it the ideal time for Nate to act.
“Yo, Bill.”
The bartender, who is also the owner, comes over, a towel on his shoulder like in the movies, though no one would cast Bill for a movie with how plain he looks.
Nate reminds himself not to judge people by their looks.
With his large front teeth, narrow face, and pale complexion, he’s far from being a catch. Plus, he’s short.
“What will it be?” Bill asks.
Nate reaches for his pocket and pulls out a vial. “I need you to bring another round of drinks to Will Thomas’s table—on the house. Make sure to add this to Will’s drink.”
Bill frowns at the vial. “That doesn’t sound like something I’ll be willing to do.”
“Should I remind you about your wife’s DUI I let slip? Twice.”
Bill leans closer. “You said we were good with that.”
“No, I said that you owed me one, and it wasn’t a figure of speech. Now I’m ready to collect, and my payment is so small and easy; you can do it in a minute.”
Bill grumbles and watches the vial again. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing dangerous. I’m a policeman, aren’t I?”
“That doesn’t feel like something a policeman should ask for.”
“The law works in mysterious ways.”
“That’s for God.”
“Why, thank you. I’ve been called worse. Go on.”
Still hesitant and mildly pissed, Bill grabs the vial and walks to prepare the drinks.
Nate hopes the man won’t screw up and give Will the wrong glass, since that would be a royal waste of Nate’s evening.
There’s always the chance of Will choosing to pass on another drink, but since it’s Friday, he doesn’t need to work tomorrow.
Nate watches closely as Bill takes the tray with the three glasses over to Will and his friends’ table.
They’re surprised and delighted, thanking Bill as he seems irritated and flushed.
His hand stalls before he picks up the glass meant for Will, but he gets his shit together before it seems suspicious.
Bill glares at Nate as he returns to the bar, but at least he did his part.
Nate watches Will take a long sip, his lovely cheekbones moving beneath his short, light-brown beard.
What was inside the vial shouldn’t carry any flavor, but Nate doesn’t know for sure.
The guy he bought it from seemed a bit wacky.
But based on how quickly Will downs half of his drink, the taste must be fine.
Now all Nate needs to do is wait. He’s a patient man, but tonight he’s also an eager man, making him glance at his watch every few minutes.
Finally, after almost thirty minutes, Will begins to rub his face and blink a lot.
He clearly struggles to take part in the conversation with his two friends, and soon he gives up and moves to stand.
Bradley appears to offer to take him home, but Will shakes his head, which Nate was hoping for. If he had ended up crashing on someone’s couch, that would have been bad.
A bit unsteady, Will walks toward the exit. Knowing exactly which route he’s going to take, Nate remains seated, not wanting to make anyone think he’s leaving because of Will. After three minutes, he gets up, throws a few bills on the counter, then exits the bar.
*
There are fewer streetlights the farther you walk from the town center. A normal walk from Rodie’s to Will’s house should take around fifteen minutes, but tonight it’s closer to twenty because of how slow his steps are.
Nate walks behind him, keeping enough distance not to raise suspicion, though Will seems more focused on not tripping. When he turns left between pine trees, Nate picks up his speed. By now, they’re out of anyone’s line of sight.
Will’s house is up ahead, a secluded single structure between the trees. Nate hasn’t been there in years, not since he used to visit with Joel. He and Will were never close, but they were friendly enough during the time Joel was still mentally healthy.
Will almost loses his footing as he climbs the steps. He mumbles a curse and steadies himself, still unaware of Nate walking behind him. When he reaches the front steps, the lights above the porch come to life.