Chapter 12 #2
He flattened his emotions as he looked down at her.
The navy had been criminally brutal with Roan when she’d enlisted, but she’d proven to be better than most of the men he’d served with, the most skilled tracker he knew.
Though she wasn’t a SEAL, he’d made her a part of his special ops team and never regretted it.
Re-entry to civilian life had been hard for Roan, but when he’d needed help up here, she was the first person he called.
Within two days she’d packed her life in her go bag and reported for duty in Shrouded Lake.
Within the last year she’d been able pull herself back from the other side, bury roots, and find herself again.
He knew that’s what she wanted for their old teammate Sonny Te Awa.
“You of all people know better than to listen to gossip, Roan.”
“Well, if you’re my primary witness, Sheriff, are you telling me you didn’t sleep with Lauren?”
He reached around her and opened the door.
“Other side of the wall, Deputy. Now go get Dalton.”
In interrogation room two, the silence cleared his mind and he was able to refocus so that when Roan brought Dalton in the room and exited, Santiago felt grounded in his purpose again.
“You look like shit,” he reflected.
Dalton was clammy-skinned and jaundiced, almost too weak to sit upright.
“You sure you want to do this interview now? We can move it back. That detox bed is still available for you if you want to be moved over there.”
“Nah Sheriff, I’m over the worst of it. You keep your word, and I’ll give you everything I got. You just gotta protect me and my family; they’ll come after all of us to protect themselves and their business, even if it includes coming after you.”
“Well then, now’s a good a time to provide the information that will allow me to shut their shit down with no casualties on our side.”
After two hours of combing through every thread of information Dalton could provide, Santiago wrote up a detailed statement and had Dalton initial and sign each element.
By the time the interview was concluded and the paperwork completed, a more mentally at ease Dalton went through another round of sweats and shakes, as if purging not only the drugs but the trauma he carried.
“Take him over to Salbeck’s,” Santiago directed Roan. “Tell him Dalton’s on a blackout protocol. I know I don’t have to say it, but a lot of shit is about to go down, Hammerhead. Cover your tracks.”
She handed him the interview recording and led Dalton toward the back of the building.
Santiago headed in the opposite direction where he found Peters waiting on the other side of the door, watching through the small unbreakable window.
Santiago put in the code and the door buzzed, unlocking it.
Santiago opened it and waited, looking down at Loyd Peters as he waited for the older deputy to state his purpose.
“Got a call about a disturbance over at Dave Flemming’s real estate office.”
“Take Derry and check it out,” Santiago said impatiently, wondering why the fuck he needed to tell the veteran deputy that as he walked past him.
“The mayor requested that you—”
Ah.
“I don’t give a damn what Anderson Archer requested, Peters. Take Derry, find out what’s going on and play the mayor’s lackey on your own time.”
Peters itched to say something, but some sense of self-preservation must’ve wrestled him into silence.
Once Peters and Derry dispatched to the call, Santiago pulled up as much information as he could about Tommy Lewellen, his associates, his past residences, aliases, criminal history, and businesses.
Not surprising, Tommy had a couple assault charges that didn’t stick.
Santiago expanded his search to the other people Dalton identified at the garage, namely the owner of the place, Vince Lewellen.
Dalton said there was someone even higher than Vince, but he couldn’t identify who that was.
He believed that person was from out of town, but he didn’t have a clue as to where.
When Roan returned, he’d take her and Cutter and a few other deputies over to Vince’s garage. Cutter had a better relationship with some of them simply because they shared a similar Anglo-Saxon heritage.
Gathering his things, he headed to his cruiser to make an unscheduled visit to Judge Jackson’s office to get the warrants needed for the garage raid tonight.
Fishing his phone from his pocket he called Lauren, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t pick up.
“It’s too early for you to be off, so what do you want Santiago?”
He wanted to say something to get under her skin, but although her words were abrupt, clipped, her tone was damn near seductive.
He pressed the phone close to his face as if he was facing off against her and growled out, “Why are you telling everybody we slept together?” He knew she had an audience.
“Because we did. I was grateful for you allowing me in your home and your bed. But just for the record, I only told your aunt that we slept together.”
“And did you tell her about waking up with a hand full of my—”
“Was there a point to this phone call, Sheriff?” She rushed out.
He was deeply satisfied with her discomfort.
“I won’t get off until late, so have Lina or Saige drive you up the mountain when you’re done with your business in town.”
“I’ll wait for you to drive me home, thank you. I’ll be at Lina’s. You have a safe evening.”
The phone disconnected and he stared at the screen for far too long before he pocketed the device.
On the quick drive to city hall, his mind wandered to the woman who pulled more energy and attention than he ever wanted to give.
They were in conflict at every turn but unlike any other enemy combatant, he’d allowed her in his bed, had willingly exposed his back, knowing she had the temperament to stab him in it.
If he was being truthful with himself, which he strove to be, he’d slept better last night than…
hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly.
Her presence most likely scared away any of the nightmares and night terrors that haunted his sleep.
He parked his cruiser and headed into the courthouse where he greeted Greta Wilson, Judge Monica Jackson’s secretary of over twenty years.
“Sheriff Stillwater,” she drawled, throwing him a knowing look. Just what the hell did she think she knew?
“Surprised seeing you today. How can I help you?”
He was at the courthouse nearly every day even on the days he was not officially on the clock. He wasn’t taking the damn bait. He nodded toward the judge’s closed door.
“Is she in?”
“Go on over to the back atrium. She’s taking in the nature and such.”
Santiago nodded and headed out to the small space between the old and newer municipal buildings. If not for the judge, the place would’ve been completely abandoned.
As he approached the space filled with sunlight, he saw the judge on a stool planting what looked to be hydrangeas while smoking a cigarette everyone in town knew she wasn’t supposed to be smoking.
“One day, your husband is gonna find you in here and you’ll be presiding over your own divorce.”
“Unless you snitch, that’ll never happen,” the gray-haired black woman said without looking up from her digging.
Her judge’s robe was open, displaying her stylish purple dress and pearl necklace and bracelet.
Her shoes and stockings were beside her, and her feet were bare on the soil.
To many, she may seem like a contradiction, but this was just how people were in Shrouded Lake.
They did their job, but they did it being themselves.
Like many of those born and raised here, Judge Jackson came back home, with a husband and young child in tow at the time, wanting to give back to the community that gave her the drive and sense of self needed to move through life with pride and confidence.
“Well, Greta is loyal as they come,” he shrugged. “But me, I got certain stipulations for my discretion.”
She looked up and laughed. “That’s not what I heard.”
Santiago shook his head. “I truly believe that woman is going to be my downfall.”
“I’ve known you since the miracle that was your birth, Santi. The only thing that will bring you down has forever been yourself, and you even survived that,” Judge Jackson said, well aware of the destructive path he’d cut through his life before he went into the navy.
“You obviously haven’t met that outrageously wicked woman in person,” he said, removing his hat and shades. He sat on the edge of the small circular fountain that had been dry for over a decade.
“You alright?” she asked, crushing her cigarette butt beneath her foot. She waved a hand in his direction. “There’s a certain...funk marring your normally dour demeanor. One would think you’d be more jovial given your extracurricular activities last night.”
“I did not have sex with that woman.”
The judge laughed. “That explains your lack of after-sex glow.”
She stood and dusted off her back side. His immediate thought was that Lauren would appreciate the judge’s fashion sense. Then he imagined her curves draped in amethyst. Brown skin glistening—
“Stillwater?”
“I need a few warrants signed off on,” Santiago blurted, reining in his imagination.
He presented his case and pulled the warrants he and the ADA, Denver Ferre, worked on. He watched patiently as the judged signed off on each one.
“You don’t have enough on your plate with the Willoby murder?” she asked, handing him back his pen and folder of papers.
“Turns out my plate is massive and I’m a greedy bastard when it comes to justice.”
“Is that what Ms. Green said?” Her peel of laughter softened the edge of frustration he felt with always being linked to Lauren.
“I don’t know why you people think I give a flying fig about what that woman says.”
“I heard she tased the mayor.”
“After he attacked her,” he defended without thought. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know what’s happening. It’s like the people in this town have jumped the tracks and are careening toward a fiery end.”
“Maybe your little witch has spellbound everyone, because things are certainly heating up.”
Santiago walked toward the exit.
“You coming to the council meeting tomorrow night?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, hiding her pack of cigarettes under a dead potted plant. She caught up to him. “Now tell me more about your Lauren Green. I want to have all the details before I meet her.”
He frowned.
“Meet her where?”
“Greta said Ms. Green was at city hall earlier. She’s going to attend the council meeting. Seems she’s got an agenda item she wants to discuss.”
An image of people yelling, fighting, chairs being thrown, people being dragged by the hair out of the burning building… Santiago shook his head. He vowed right then and there to do whatever he needed to do to keep her from the council meeting tomorrow. Even if it meant handcuffing her to his bed.