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

down on opposite sides of her. Gertie leaned forward on her walker, adjusting her position until she appeared comfortable.

“We’d love to hear your story, Ms. Rollins,” Cal said. “How come you never told anyone about this before now?”

“Oh, I did. Believe you me. I told anyone who would listen, but everyone just laughed at me. They said I needed to change my prescription,” Gertie said, grabbing her bottle-thick glasses for emphasis. “They told me I was too blind, or it was too dark, or I was just lookin’ for my fifteen minutes of fame. I finally just gave up on it all.”

“You apparently haven’t given up on it if you’re telling us,” Kelly said, patting the woman on her back.

Gertie chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. “I guess you’re right.”

“So, tell us what you saw,” Cal said, pulling out his notebook and voice recorder. “You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”

“Please do,” Gertie said. “That way if anything happens to me, at least you’ll have a record of it that no one can deny.”

“Excellent. Please proceed,” Cal said, turning on his recorder.

“Well, the night that Susannah Sloan was murdered, I was out for a bike ride. I wasn’t always like this,” she said, gesturing to her feet and walker. “I used to enter every 5K in South Georgia until I needed a hip replacement about five years ago. I was in so much pain, I could barely stand. I digress. Anyway, I was out for a late evening bike ride and returned home around 9:30. I barely had enough fireflies to light my way home, but the street lights helped, too. After I put my bike up, I walked around to the front of my house to sit on my bench on the front porch and read. But when I sat down, I looked out across the way at Susannah Sloan’s place, which was right across the street from me, and watched Sheriff Sloan pull into her driveway.”

“About what time was this?” Cal asked.

“Somewhere around quarter to ten.”

“And you knew it was him how?”

“There aren’t many strapping men in Pickett County like Sheriff Sloan,” Gertie said, her cheeks turning a light shade of red. “There are some big men around here; don’t get me wrong. But most of them don’t have his physique. Well, at least the physique he had about twelve years ago.”

“Okay,” Cal said. “Go on.”

“Anyway, I thought it was odd of him to stop by so late on a Friday night. I still ascribe to the neighborhood watch philosophy and am always looking out my window to see if anything is going on, strange noises, tires screeching, and what not. And when the weather warms up, I used to always ride my bike every evening around that time, so I would’ve known what was going on and typical patterns.”

“What struck you as odd that night?” Kelly asked.

“Two things did. The first one was that Susannah was at home. She usually was out of town or out for the evening by 9:30 on a Friday evening. At least two weekends out of the month, she went out of town. And I know this because she used to ask me to feed her dog, a little Pomeranian named Fitz. Susannah rarely had visitors.”

“And her father never dropped by?” Cal asked.

“He would occasionally, but never that late and never on a Friday night. At the time, I noted it was strange behavior on both their parts, but I didn’t give it a second thought . . . until she wound up murdered the next morning.”

“And everyone refused to listen to your story?” Cal asked.

“Yes, and I mean I can’t really blame them. Nobody around here would ever believe Sheriff Sloan would be capable of killing his own daughter, myself included. But after I saw him there that night, I believe it’s possible he did it.”

“Proving that is going to be very difficult since he oversaw the investigation. I’ll consider all these things as I’m writing my story.”

“You know what another strange thing is?” Gertie asked.

“What’s that?” Cal asked.

“The Pickett County Sheriff’s Department had relatively no turnover for dang near twenty years. But after this happened, I think almost every deputy moved, transferred, or was fired within a year.”

“And nobody in the community thought that was odd?” Kelly asked.

“I think everybody thought it was strange but just attributed it to the fact that a meaner and grieving sheriff emerged from all that. Sheriff Sloan used to be far more kind and compassionate than he is now. Understandably so, this whole event changed his life. It took away the only remaining woman in his life that he loved. He pretty much became a bitter and hardened man.”

“Well, if he actually did kill his own daughter, that’d definitely change him,” Kelly said.

“So, do you believe me?” Gertie asked.

Cal and Kelly both nodded.

“We hear you and believe you could be right,” Cal said.

“Well, that’s a first,” she said.

“I’m not sure if I believe he killed her though.”

Gertie waved him off dismissively.

“I’m not so concerned about that. I can’t be a hundred percent sure about that. But as long as you believe I’m telling you the truth, I’m satisfied. I got it off my chest, and you can do with that information whatever you want. It’s in your hands now … and on your conscience.”

Cal stood and offered a hand to Gertie, assisting her to stand. She put both her hands on her walker and started to shuffle off.

“Thank you for listenin’,” she said.

“What do you make of that?” Kelly asked after Gertie was out of earshot.

Cal shrugged. “Just more work for us. We’re far from being done here.”

CHAPTER 25

“CHANGE OF PLANS,” Cal said once he and Kelly got into their car. “I think we need to get everything we can out of Sheriff Sloan for this story before we question him directly about Ms. Rollins’ claim that he visited Susannah during the time she was believed to