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

Sloan didn’t acknowledge him.

“It’s best not to bother him until he’s downed at least two cups of coffee,” the woman at the front desk said.

“I don’t think you understand. We need to report a crime.”

Still entranced by the papers in front of him, Sloan finally spoke. “Let Betty fill out the paperwork for you. I’m sure it was a terrible crime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day ahead.”

Kelly stamped her foot. “We were almost killed last night, Sheriff. The least you can do is hear us out. I’m sure you don’t want everyone finding out what a dangerous place Pickett County is.”

Sloan finally looked up. “Our crime numbers speak for themselves.”

“Is this a game to you, Sheriff?” Cal asked. “Because it isn’t to us. Last night, a white pickup truck with the license plate of PFB5661 tried to run us off the road. I swerved onto the shoulder and was fortunate to regain control and avoid an accident.”

Sloan laughed softly and shook his head. “Sounds like you met Jacob Boone yesterday.”

“So you know who this punk is who almost killed us?” Kelly asked.

Sloan nodded slowly. “Yeah, everybody around here knows who Jacob is. He’s a few cows short of a herd, if ya know what I mean.”

“You’re not gonna do anything about it?” Kelly asked.

“Probably not. He’s a pain in the ass, but if your vehicle isn’t damaged, there’s really no use in it. It’d be more of a hassle than it’s worth.”

Kelly glared at him. “I can’t believe this.”

Cal put his arm around her in an attempt to calm her down.

“Is it a common practice in Pickett County to gloss over crimes or just ignore them altogether—or maybe even refuse to question the veracity of one’s claims?” Cal asked.

Sloan narrowed his eyes and stared at Cal.

“Just what exactly are you insinuating, Mr. Murphy? That I’m ignoring criminal activity? Or that I’m guilty of committing it?”

“Both.”

“Those are lofty claims. Care to elaborate?”

“You’re obviously ignoring the fact that someone in your town almost killed us, someone who must be such a constant nuisance that you know his license plate number by heart and—”

“It’s a small town.”

Cal kept going, “And when we were going through the logs on the night of May 7, 2004, we found that you actually logged out of the office, even though you told us that you never left. In fact, you were out of the office between nine-thirty and eleven that evening. I’m sure you remember what happened during that time.”

“I think it’s high time you leave this office, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy—and all of Pickett County, too,” Sloan said. “We don’t have time for the kind of trouble you’re trying to bring to this town.”

Cal didn’t flinch. “Interesting. You didn’t even deny it. I guess the logs are true. I wonder what a judge would think about this information coming to light, especially from the sheriff who supposedly conducted the murder investigation.”

“That's enough,” Sloan growled as he pointed toward the door. “Out now.”

Cal eyed Sloan closely. “Remember, it’s always better to give your side of the story than to leave the truth up to conjecture. Or is that what you’re hoping will happen? Conjecture doesn’t hold up very well in a court of law, does it?”

Sloan kept his arm stiff, pointing toward the door. “I said now.”

“We’ll be seeing you around, Sheriff,” Cal said.

CHAPTER 10

CAL AND KELLY HUSTLED down the street toward the Pickett County Courthouse in silence. It wasn’t until they’d traveled a block before Kelly spoke.

“I think that went over well,” Kelly said.

Cal sighed as he kept walking. “That probably wasn’t the best idea to confront him right then, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Sheriff Sloan’s absence during that time certainly doesn’t look good. Wonder what he was trying to hide?”

Cal shrugged. “It could’ve been a number of things, but it was something. He didn’t just pop out for a late dinner and lie about it.”

They finally reached the courthouse and hustled up the steps. Once inside, they spoke with one of the clerks.

“Hi, my name is Cal Murphy, and I submitted a records request a week ago,” Cal said as he pushed his driver’s license through the small slit beneath the window.

“Just a minute, Mr. Murphy,” the clerk said. “Let me see if I can find this for you.”

A few moments later, she returned with a file. She put a clipboard into a drawer.

“I need you to sign this form before I can give these to you,” she said.

“No problem.”

Cal signed the papers and returned the drawer. The clerk then placed the file in the drawer and pushed it back to him. He grabbed the folder and started to read it as he walked away toward Kelly.

“Sir,” the clerk called. “Sir!”

Cal spun around and walked back toward her. “Yes?”

“There are eight more folders. Please don’t walk away.”

Cal’s eyes widened as he stared at the files stacked by the clerk’s work station.

“Those are all for the Isaiah Drake trial?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s what the request was for.”

“Okay. Load me up.”

After Cal collected all the folders, he and Kelly retreated to the archives and began thumbing through the files.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Kelly asked.

“Anything that seems out of the ordinary, but let’s write down all the names of everyone we come across. People on the witness stand, people mentioned by the witnesses. We need all the leads we can to create a picture of what was going on back then. The newspaper reports only reveal so much.”

Cal flipped open his file folder that had copies of documents for all the legal proceedings, including the prosecution’s witnesses. He scanned the list of names, recalling everyone until he landed on the final name: Devontae Ray.

“Skim through these reports and see if you can find the name Devontae Ray,” Cal said as he handed half the remaining folders to Kelly.

“Isn’t that the guy in the wheelchair?” she asked.

“That’s the one. I don’t