Chapter Seven #2
“Come to my office.”
Wade followed him across the hall. Nava reached into his minifridge for two longnecks. He popped the cap off one and handed it to Wade.
“Thanks,” Wade said, settling into a chair.
Nava took the seat behind his desk. “Jackson went to A&M.”
“Did he?”
“Their standards are pretty rigorous.”
Wade sipped the beer, noncommittal.
“Where did you go?” Nava asked.
“UT.”
Nava didn’t seem surprised. The Austin school had a stellar reputation, along with a liberal attitude that many Texans sneered at.
“He interviewed for your position.”
Wade straightened. “Jackson did?”
Nava nodded.
Wade hadn’t known there was a local candidate. He felt reassured by the lack of nepotism involved, and Jackson Nava hadn’t given any indication of hard feelings. On the other hand, father and son had been arguing before Wade walked in tonight.
“You worked for your father in Last Chance,” Nava said.
“I did.”
“How was it?”
“Difficult.”
“I spoke to him the day before you came.”
Wade wasn’t surprised by this news, but he didn’t have a great relationship with his father. He was at odds with both of his parents. The situation might have weighed on him if he wasn’t so accustomed to it. His family was dysfunctional, to say the least.
“I understand that this position is a stepping stone for you.”
“My father told you that?”
“He didn’t have to.”
Wade regretted coming in here for the beer. He scowled, sipping it.
“Every young buck in uniform, my son included, has designs on moving up. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I like the initiative you’ve shown so far. Clearly, you’re a go-getter. But we can’t fabricate a homicide out of wishful thinking.”
“I’m requesting the autopsy,” Wade said curtly. “You can argue with the physician about a wrongful death determination.”
“Is there evidence of foul play?”
“Yeah. The burial itself.”
Nava leaned back in his chair. “I’ve seen experienced investigators lose their minds over cases like this. The research is all-consuming, and they can’t focus on anything else. They fall down the rabbit hole and never come out.”
“Is that what happened to my predecessor?” Wade asked.
Instead of answering, Nava changed the subject. “You were involved in the inquiry for your brother.”
Wade’s blood went cold, because this wasn’t small talk. It was deeply personal. He wanted to get up and walk out, but he wasn’t a coward. He squinted at Nava, daring him to keep talking.
“It’s not my place to speculate on the outcome—”
“Then don’t.”
“Are you here to start over, or wash your hands clean?”
Wade bristled at the implication, even though it was not unfounded. His father had a less-than-stellar reputation, and Wade was tainted by association. But he wasn’t going to discuss his brother’s death with anyone.
“My hands are already clean,” he said, holding Nava’s gaze. “I won’t sully your department, I’m not going down a rabbit hole, and I don’t appreciate being leaned on for no reason. If I wanted someone breathing down my neck, I would have stayed in Last Chance.”
Nava didn’t seem fazed by Wade’s response.
Wade wondered if the sheriff was trying to provoke him or test his mettle.
Cops were strange people, under intense scrutiny and immense pressure.
Power plays and personal conflicts could be expected when joining a police force.
Wade could earn Nava’s respect by keeping his cool.
“Is that all, sir?” Wade asked.
“Do you regret transferring here?”
“After a month at my mother’s, I might.”
Nava gave a short bark of laughter. “Don’t come in early tomorrow, Hendricks. We’re okay with disaster response, and I need rested officers.”
Wade gave him a sarcastic salute on his way out the door. He was eager to get started on the investigation, but he could follow orders and wait. He used his cell phone to call Dr. Forester, who didn’t answer. Wade left a voice message and hoped for the best.
As he climbed behind the wheel of his truck, his thoughts shifted away from work.
Across the street from the station, the community center glowed like a dusty beacon.
It wasn’t as busy as the Lost Lake center had been yesterday.
People were getting the help they needed.
The post-disaster chaos had settled into quiet competency.
He smiled at the memory of Stacy’s perky attitude. She was probably still over there. If he wanted her, he could have her. He could invite her on a drive, and park somewhere to look at the stars.
When Wade pictured himself with a woman, however, he didn’t see Stacy.
He didn’t see Natalie, either, which was strange.
He’d been fixated on her for the better part of a year, after an ill-fated hookup had ruined their friendship.
She’d never given him the chance to make things right between them before she’d moved on with another man.
Today, she’d told him she was engaged. He’d been mildly surprised by the announcement.
He’d had a lot on his mind, so maybe he’d have a delayed reaction to her news.
He wasn’t evolved enough to be happy for her. He felt … nothing.
He was vaguely dissatisfied, but the yearning in him wasn’t centered on Natalie.
It wouldn’t be assuaged by a one-night stand with Stacy, either.
He wasn’t a horny teenager, eager for anonymous sex in the back of his pickup truck.
His desire had a specific face—Mary’s. He wanted her and only her.
He wanted her more than the woman he’d imagined himself in love with a few short months ago.
Wade frowned, disturbed by the realization.
Instead of seeking out female companionship of any kind, he went to a fast-food drive-through to indulge a different appetite.
When he arrived at the ranch, the porchlights were on.
His mother was sitting in a deck chair next to Mary.
Both had glass tumblers in hand. Mary’s dogs barked at him as he exited the vehicle.
King lifted his leg to piss on one of Wade’s tires.
Chico sniffed at Wade’s heels. At the same time, Daisy nosed a tennis ball toward his foot.
Wade kicked the ball as hard as he could.
It sailed in the direction of the dog run.
Daisy raced after it, accepting the challenge, but Chico reacted to this move with aggression. The Chihuahua snapped at Wade’s ankle and briefly latched on to his pant leg. Wade shook off the dog in annoyance.
Mary rose from her seat to rescue Chico. She scooped him up, as if he was the one who needed to be saved from Wade.
“Don’t put him away,” Wynona said. “I’ll hold him.”
Mary deposited the Chihuahua in his mother’s lap and went to secure the other two dogs in the run. Instead of returning to her seat, she slipped into the kitchen. Wade took the chair she’d vacated. Chico growled and bared his gums.
“Hush,” Wynona said.
Wade leaned back in the chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t want to argue with his mother, so he said nothing. He didn’t know how to have a non-contentious conversation with her.
“How long are you staying in Lost Lake?” she asked.
She sounded relaxed. Not sober, but not as drunk was she’d been last night.
“I don’t know.”
“Really? Because I heard you joined the sheriff’s office.”
“Who told you that?”
“A little bird.”
Wade glanced toward the kitchen. He could see Mary doing dishes at the sink. She must have shared the news, which irritated him. She wasn’t on his side, and she wasn’t neutral. She was his mother’s pretty little minion.
“I accepted a first deputy position.”
“Hmm,” she said, instead of congrats.
“Do you mind if I stay here for a while?”
“I don’t have an extra bedroom for you.”
“This place has three bedrooms.”
“Mary turned one into my office. We’re selling soaps and knickknacks online.”
“Sounds lucrative.”
“Don’t be snide, Wade. It doesn’t become you.”
“Do you have an extra mattress? I can set it up in the basement.”
“I don’t like the clutter.”
He sighed heavily. She loved clutter. It was him she didn’t like.
“Why did you come?”
“You know why.”
“I’m getting along just fine,” she insisted, petting Chico. “I have Mary.”
Wade snorted his derision. Mary wasn’t taking care of Wynona so much as enabling her. “You got another DUI, Mom.”
She took another sip from her tumbler. “Did Eric tell you that?”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the sheriff?”
“Of course. I know all the good-looking men in town.”
Wade removed his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair. His mother’s exploits were legendary. “Isn’t he married?”
“Divorced,” she purred.
Wade gave her a closer study. She was wearing a long dress and cowboy boots, with a soft wool shawl draped over her shoulders.
Her dark hair didn’t show any hints of gray, and her artfully applied makeup disguised her age.
She didn’t look sick or haggard. But she would, if she continued to drink like a fish.
“Who loaded the shotgun?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I unloaded the shotgun the last time I was here. Did you reload it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t remember?”
She shrugged and drained her whiskey.
“You shouldn’t keep loaded guns in the house.”
“A woman’s got to protect herself,” she murmured.
“Mary had it in the kitchen yesterday. When I came inside the house, she fired a warning shot through the screen door.”
“Did she really? Good for her.”
“Alcohol and guns don’t mix, Mother. Accidents happen.”
This statement cut through the boozy, careless facade she’d cultivated. Her eyes filled with tears. Chico hopped down from her lap, as if sensing her need to flee. She set the tumbler aside and rose on unsteady legs.
Wade stifled the urge to stand with her and offer his support, because he knew she wouldn’t accept it.
She was a proud woman, too stubborn to admit her weaknesses.
She wouldn’t talk about her drinking problem.
She’d flinch away from him, like always, and he couldn’t deal with another rejection right now.
He couldn’t endure any more evidence of her cold feelings toward him.
“I’ll tell Mary to make room in the office,” she said, and walked away.
Chico trotted after her.
A few minutes later, someone turned off the porch lights, leaving him in the dark.