Dead to Rights by Jack Patterson (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

a domestic dispute that one of the deputies handled, and that was about it. I went straight from the office to the restaurant.”

“So you never left the office that night?” Cal asked.

Sloan shook his head and pointed at his chair.

“I sat right here all night long. Just another boring night in Pickett County.”

“But it turned out not to be that way.”

Sloan nodded in agreement. “That’s an understatement. It was far busier than usual when it came to criminal activity, though nothing we knew about until the next morning.”

“What happened the next morning?”

Sloan sighed and looked down. “I went over to check on Susannah and found her dead on the back porch.” He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder, fighting the tears. “I couldn’t believe it. My baby girl was gone. It was brutal.”

“Did you normally go check on her?”

Sloan bristled. “Is this an interview or an inquisition?”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff. Let me rephrase that: What led you to go over there and check on her?”

Sloan exhaled. “We met every Saturday mornin’ at eight o’clock for breakfast at Pat’s off Second and Main. The night before, she had called me to confirm we were still on and told me she had some big news. I asked her if she was going to tell me she was pregnant, but she just laughed and said she wasn’t that kind of girl. I was somewhat relieved. But when she didn’t show up, I called her but didn’t get a response. Then I decided to drive to her house and check on her. I thought maybe she’d slept in or had a hangover. I certainly wasn’t expectin’ what I found.”

“Do you still have your logs from that night?” Cal asked. “I’d love to see them to give us some context for what happens in this town.”

“Why the hell not? It’s all public record anyway. If I didn’t, you’d probably have some big city lawyer suin’ the county.”

Sloan got up and opened the door to his office.

“Tillman!” he called. “Help these folks to the archive room. They want to see the logs from May 7 and 8, 2004.”

Cal and Kelly stood up and followed Deputy Tillman into a backroom. The walls were made of cinder block, and the file cabinets looked like they pre-dated 1960.

“We keep paper files of everything for the twenty latest years,” Tillman said. “After that, they all go into a file box and are stored at the courthouse. The 2004 files are in that third section, top drawer.”

“Thank you for your help,” Cal said.

Cal and Kelly worked together to dig through the folders, which were haphazardly filed. Instead of being in a chronological position, they were grouped by months. But the twenty-fifth of a month could just as easily be at the front as the first of the month could be tucked away at the back of the group.

After a few minutes of rifling through the papers, they found the logs for May 7, 2004.

“Will you look at this?” Cal said.

Kelly leaned over and studied the page before she gasped. She proceeded to pull out her camera and take a picture of the document.

“Why would he lie about this?” Cal asked.

Kelly shrugged as she stared down at the paper.

Cal slid the page back into the folder. He jotted down the details surrounding the log: Sheriff Sloan had logged out around 9:30 p.m. He returned at 11:00 p.m. The reason for his departure was listed as personal.

“Whoa. Can you believe this? Nine-thirty to eleven—isn’t that the window for the time of death for Susannah Sloan?”

Kelly nodded. “So we hear.”

“Why would he lie about something like that when he knows we’re going to check it out?” Cal asked. “He even invited us to look into the books.”

“Pull that sheet out again,” Kelly said.

Cal complied, and she studied the sheet for a few seconds and then began to nod.

“What is it?” Cal asked.

“That’s not his handwriting,” Kelly said. “Look here.” She pulled out another sheet in the folder that had his signature. “Totally different.”

“So maybe someone signed him out.”

Kelly nodded. “And since he was conducting the investigation, no one was ever going to ask him about it.”

“But he was still covering his tracks just in case.”

They put the files away and returned to the main office.

“Did y’all find everything you needed?” Sloan asked.

“We did,” Cal said. “But I’ve got just one more question before we go.”

“Fire away.”

“You said you were on the nightshift the night of May 7th, 2004, right?”

Sloan stroked his chin. “That’s right.”

“And you didn’t leave the office until the next morning when you went to go meet with your daughter?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay,” Cal said. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Cal and Kelly thanked Sloan and left the office.

They were on the street for a moment before Deputy Tillman came hustling out after them.

“Mr. Murphy! Mrs. Murphy!” Tillman called.

Cal and Kelly stopped and turned around.

“What is it, Deputy Tillman?”

“I just want to encourage you to keep diggin’ around on this story. I’m not so sure I trust Sheriff Sloan myself. Somethin’ isn’t right here.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Deputy,” Cal said. “The reason we’re here is to find out what really went on that night.”

“Good luck, and let me know if I can ever help you.”

***

SLOAN STARTED TO WONDER IF maybe he hadn’t covered his tracks as thoroughly as he thought based on the way Cal asked his final question. Trying not to panic, Sloan waited until Tillman wasn’t paying attention before slipping into the archive room.

Sloan thumbed through the folders until he found the one dated May 7, 2004, along with the other one from May 8.

He immediately perused the logs, searching for what might have set off Cal’s curious line of questioning. And there it was, almost flickering on the page as if it were a neon sign: Lenny Parker signed Sloan out between 9:30 and 11:00 p.m. the night of the 7th. And he knew exactly what someone could infer from that piece of information.

He decided