A Deadly July

A Deadly July

~~A novel by C Kay Brooks~~

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

C Kay Brooks on Smashwords

A Deadly July

Copyright © 2011 by C Kay Brooks

Cover image courtesy of Tomislav Stajduhar

Cover design by Joleene Naylor

ISBN 978-1-4659-6190-7

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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CHAPTER 1

Sheriff Jan T. Beatty cracked open the toasted dough, pulling out the slip of paper to read its message. His laughter at the antics going on across the table froze in mid laugh. Darting his eyes first to his wife, he glanced around the table to see if his reaction had been observed. Holding the scrap just below the table top, he re-read the words slipping it into his shirt pocket. Staring at his empty plate, deep in thought, he was unaware of his surroundings until drawn from his silent contemplation by his brother’s booming voice.

Looking up to see all eyes focused on him, he heard his brother say, OK, birthday boy, we saved the best for last! It’s your turn! What did you learn about your future?

The sheriff’s solemn eyes met his brother’s for only a moment before darting away to find their mother’s watchful eyes. Mom, didn’t Jeff mention chocolate cake? He motioned toward his empty plate and innocently informed her, The birthday boy has cleaned his plate.

Hesitant laughter circled the table, but the children missed the adult undercurrents and chimed in to say, We cleaned our plates! We want cake, too!

Martha held her younger son’s gaze for a moment, not sure of the ruse he was trying to pull. Glancing at Jeff across the table, she pushed back her chair and stood. Stacking dirty dishes in her immediate area, she said, Jeff, get your fire extinguisher ready. The strained moment was fleeting and missed by most.

Robbie’s cheerful voice filled the room. What did your cookie say, Uncle JT?

Regaining his smiling composure, JT drawled, Well, Robbie, it said someone I love is going to come into great wealth! He leaned away from the table to pull his wife into his arms and focusing completely on her, he asked, Do you have a rich relative I haven’t heard about?

The noise level in the room rose with banter and laughter blending with the clink of dishes, chairs scraping the floor and giggling children.

His wife slipped her arms around his neck, unaware of his subterfuge and murmured, You better stay on my good side if you want to share. She drew him closer, planting a kiss on his lips.

After birthday songs were sung and everyone had a slice of cake, Jeff popped off to his mother, Well, Mom, how does it feel to have your baby turn thirty-five?

Why are you crying Grama? asked young Robbie.

Because I’m happy, Robbie. I was remembering when your uncle was just your size like it was yesterday and I’m glad he is happy and healthy, regardless of his age.

~~~~~

Later that evening, Jeff cornered his brother in a quiet corner where no one was likely to overhear their conversation. So, what did your cookie say to get you so uptight?

I didn’t get uptight. You know those things aren’t believable. They can be interpreted anyway you want to twist it.

The two men glared at each other for a moment before Jeff reached into his brother’s pocket and pulled out the slip of paper.

You never could lie to me Jannie-boy, Jeff jeered before letting his eyes fall to read the ditty. ‘Danger and evil have many disguises. Be wary and diligent or someone you love may come to great harm.’

Jeff folded the paper within his fingers and tucked it back into his brother’s pocket while he thoughtfully pulled on his ear lobe. Well, I admit it’s kind of dark, much different from the others, but, Jan, any of us could have drawn it.

But I’m the one who did.

CHAPTER 2

Every few years July fourth falls on a weekend and makes celebration events seem extra special. The unincorporated town of Bridgeport was decked out in bunting, flags and anticipation long before the weekend arrived.

Contrary to a growing national norm, the tiny town bumping into Nevada embraced its local heritage and war heroes. Throughout each year, fundraisers are held to finance their beloved Fourth of July celebrations.

Visitors from as close as Reno and as far away as Europe were beginning to fill surrounding communities. Word was out that a tour bus of Chinese Nationals was making a detour on its way to visit Yosemite. But for locals, the first hint of a wet blanket threatening to dampen the fun was felt on July first. A whisper for those listening, warned that this July was going to be different.

The sheriff’s dispatch centre answered a call from Mrs. Richard Ames, officially requesting an investigation into the disappearance of her husband. Calling from her home in San Bernardino, she reported the local marina and RV Park’s verification of her husband’s arrival and rental of RV space and the purchase of a launch permit for his boat.

Officer, I got so frustrated dealing with that man! The manager, I mean. I’m desperate to locate my husband and he curtly informs me my husband’s rig needs to be removed within twenty-four hours or it will be towed from the premises.

"Officer, something is wrong. I spoke to my husband Friday, the twenty-sixth, a few hours after he arrived. He had already been fishing and said he was tempted to stay an extra day, but promised to be home by the twenty-ninth for our son’s birthday party. I haven’t heard from him since. At first I wasn’t alarmed because he reminded of the spotty cell service in the area.

This is so unlike him, Officer! He was looking forward to teasing our son about turning forty. Not calling is one thing, but missing our son’s birthday is a red flag I can’t ignore, Mrs. Ames explained.

Later that morning, Deputy Hicks dropped by the marina and verified that Ames’ truck camper and boat trailer were still there.

Has anyone checked the lake for Ames’ boat? he asked.

Now when would I have time to do that? I don’t provide babysitting or search and rescue services, the man tossed over his shoulder, hurrying to empty a box full of fishing gear onto a empty shelf.

May I borrow a rental boats for a quick check of the lake?

Deputy, the only boat not spoken for is the canoe still on the rack outside.

Hicks turned from the manager stocking shelves to gaze through the dirty window. Three older boats were tied off at the dock, side by side with their outboards lifted from the water. They had a neglected look to them, noticeably different from other boats anchored or tied off in the cove. He suspected the manager was lying through his teeth, but wasn’t sure he wanted to entrust his life to one of the sad looking boats.

He felt his pockets for change when his cell phone registered no service. The pennies and nickels offered wouldn’t allow him to use the pay phone on the wall and there was no way he was going to ask the manager for change. With a last glance around the combination office and store, he returned to his squad car to radio Dispatch and request one of the county-owned patrol boats.

While he waited for Dispatch to make the necessary calls, he approached the dock for a closer inspection of the boats suspected to be rentals. Relieved he had not pressured the manager to use one, he made a note to ask the sheriff about marine safety inspections.

Hearing the squawk of his car radio, he hurried back to answer. Gary’s no-nonsense voice barked out, Expect Jarrett from the central substation. Give him a couple hours to get there. He’s on his way, but the patrol boat is in Lake Topaz.

Surprised, Hicks asked, But the boat in Lake Crowley is closer. Why is he going through here to Topaz?

There’s no boat trailer at Crowley, Hicks. Besides, the boat in Lake Topaz is the one we move around. Be patient; he’ll get there as quick as he can, so just do your grunt-work until he arrives.

Signing off with his dispatcher, he began walking the property talking to campers and folks launching boats.

The reservoir spanned out like a hand wearing a rough, tattered mitten, and had many inlets. The water level, still high from snow melt was very clear and cold. Finishing his interview with a man and his grandson launching a small fishing boat, Hicks caught sight of the marina manager hurrying in his direction.

Deputy, can you do something about moving that man’s truck? He only paid for the site until the twenty-eighth and I’ve booked the site for tomorrow. I told him that when he came and I told his wife when she called. I need his truck out of here, he explained.

Steaming at the manager’s lack of regard for the missing man, Hicks used hand gestures to get him to stop talking and calm down. In exasperation, Hicks told him, Okay, I’ll call Beal’s Garage and see if Tommy can tow it to the county compound.

Thanks, Deputy, how about his boat trailer?

The manager had been appeased for only a moment before winding up again, worried about Ames’ boat trailer occupying precious space.

We’ll be searching for his boat this morning. If we find it, we’ll need the trailer, so I don’t want to move it yet, explained Hicks, clinching his jaw to keep from saying more.

Okay, okay, but get it out ASAP. I need the room for people coming in. You know, Deputy, I only have so much space.

It was after lunchtime before Deputies Hicks and Jarrett launched the patrol boat and started a systematic search of the reservoir. Forty-five minutes of following the shoreline, they located the missing boat anchored about seventy feet from shore.

Jarrett secured the boats together while Hicks climbed into the abandoned boat to look for clues. The live-well had several nice-sized fish on a stringer, but they had been there too long and were dead. The ice chest contained spoiled sandwiches and several cans of warm beer. A few crushed beer cans were in the floor of the boat but there was no way of knowing when their contents had been consumed. An expensive fishing rod rocked precariously, dangling near the water.

Securing the fishing rod and moving down to check on the boat’s motor, Hicks found the fuel reservoir full with a small can of emergency fuel nearby. Pulling the starter rope, the outboard cranked to life with the first pull. He looked to Jarrett for suggestions. At first the Jarrett shrugged, but moved closer to listen.

Hicks, let it run a few minutes. Let’s see if it sputters or dies. Sometimes water in the fuel can cause problems.

While the motor continued to hum, Hicks reeled in the anchor with no problems. Returning to kill the outboard motor and lift the propeller out of the water, he leaned over the side of the boat to check for damage or entanglements. Calling back to Jarrett, he declared the propeller and shaft pristine before he locked the outboard securely in place and climbed back into the patrol boat.

He recorded the GPS coordinates and jotted down a few notes for his report while Jarrett adjusted the rigging, preparing the boat for towing to the marina.

Before leaving the area, they edged into shore looking for footprints or any sign of someone exiting the lake. They found nothing in the high grass, which filled much of the space between the open water and beach. There were only a few bird footprints and prints of a large dog. Near the water’s edge, Jarrett pulled on waders and slipped over the side of the patrol boat for a closer look. The two men crouched in unison when a large flock of birds erupted from the tall grass to flap their wings noisily, as they flew low to find a landing spot some distance away from the boats. Jarrett found nothing indicating human passage.

Slowly patrolling the rest of the lake looking for signs of Ames, they talked to anglers. Many were new arrivals having seen nothing out of the ordinary. Hicks methodically handed out business cards at the end of conversations.

At the marina, Jarrett tied off the second boat to a pylon near the end of the dock before moving the patrol boat to the boat ramp area. Both men saw the manager hurrying down to the water’s edge and cringed when he began a nervous, rambling lecture about not leaving the second boat in the cove -- reminding them of his need to have it moved right away.

Hicks finally convinced the man that it would be to his advantage to use the marina truck to haul the Ames boat out and to deliver the trailered boat to the county compound himself. Sir, it would take you less than an hour to get the boat out of your hair, but if we move the boat, it will take several hours because Deputy Jarrett needs to return the patrol boat to Lake Topaz first. Hicks explained.

Jarrett kept his head down, methodically tightening straps, securing the patrol boat to the trailer while Hicks negotiated with the manager.

Watching the man’s retreating form, Hicks heard Jarrett’s chuckling and quickly navigated around the dripping boat and trailer to investigate.

Hicks, I owe you one, I thought I’d be spending all day with this mess. If you don’t need me, I’ll head out before he gets back with his truck.

Hicks grinned, You just gotta know how to approach him on his level. I’ve got things covered here, you’re good to go.

~~~~~

In the far northern part of the county, a woman watched Sheriff Beatty from her window as he crossed her lawn. Her children tagged along beside him, jumping and pulling at his hands. She noticed he had a spring in his step and she’d seen him smile more this afternoon then in the entire time she had known him. His posture was better and he seemed younger, healthier, not as tired or reserved as she had come to expect.

Watching her children hop around him, she thought back to the first time she met him. Reluctant to make eye contact as her children clung to her for protection, her hand had hovered around her face in an attempt to hide her bruised and split lip from his view.

Ignoring her at first, he knelt to speak softly to her frightened children. When he produced a small stuffed bear with a pink ribbon around its neck, her daughter stepped forward to reach for the cuddly bear. Billy’s curious eyes opened wide when a small stuffed dog appeared. At the sheriff’s suggestion, her children scurried off to play.

In her small kitchen, she had been aware and ashamed of the disarray and broken furniture. The sheriff’s imposing frame frightened her at first, but his soft voice full of concern relaxed her enough to answer his questions. After his deputies had physically pulled her husband off of her and hauled him to the county jail, the sheriff personally came to talk to her. A paramedic dressed her wounds and checked her children for injuries while a deputy took pictures of her and the wrecked apartment.

Through the next two years, the sheriff stopped by from time to time with groceries or clothing vouchers from his local KIDS program. Regardless of the reason for his visit, he always had something for the children and spent a few minutes with them. The night of the fire, he appeared in front of her as a sooty angel when he stepped from the shadows carrying her bundled, unharmed daughter. A firefighter followed carrying her young son, turning a night of horror into a new beginning.

A few days after the fire, while she was busy sorting out their lives in a small bungalow that had been offered by a local church, she heard a radio broadcast about the shooting that wounded a deputy and left the sheriff in a coma. Shocked and saddened, she paused, wishing there was something she could do for him.

Months later, her daughter brought her a newspaper and pointed to a wedding announcement photo. Momma, that’s the lady from the night of the fire. She wrapped us in blankets and was really nice.

At first, she didn’t recognize the pictured groom, so young and smiling, but indeed, the article confirmed that it was Sheriff Beatty and she was glad. Having done so much for others -- it was only right that he find happiness for himself.

Movement drew her attention back to her children with the sheriff. Kneeling, he was giving them a joint hug. When he entered his cruiser, they waved goodbye and turned to run back to the house.

Within moments, her children eagerly held up small rubber ducks for her to see. The ducks were bathtub toys with big numbers printed on the bottom. Her daughter handed her a flyer for the Fourth of July Celebrations. The ducks were for the annual duck race at the river. Stapled to the flyer were three tickets to the pancake breakfast to be held before the big parade.

Can we go, Mom?

~~~~~

Sheriff Beatty spent the afternoon in the field with business calls and follow-ups on what he considered to be his children, having little contact with his office, he sat in his cruiser, making notes about the woman and her children. Noticing the time, he reached for his dispatch radio to sign off before heading home.

The day had been productive and full, but he was glad to be on his way home and appreciated the still new sensation, after years of being a workaholic. Dispatch updated him on a disturbing missing person report, but it seemed his deputies were handling it without his need to intervene. After years of being the first in the office each morning and last to leave in the evening, he was impatient to head home to his bride.

With a quick stop at the post office, he retrieved his mail including a key for one of the large, after-hour’s package boxes. The flat package was bigger than a magazine and was addressed to Jana Lee Beatty from a company in Los Angeles. His wife didn’t get much mail and he was curious, but slipped the hard package under the rest of his mail.

Taking advantage of a break in afternoon traffic, he eased onto the roadway, maneuvering into the turn lane to head away from town. With no traffic on the narrower road, his eyes scanned the snow capped, hazy blue mountains. Returning his focus on the road, he slowed to turn from the pavement and navigated a sharp turn. Rounding the blind curve, the head of a startled deer bobbed up before the animal dashed into the woods. A pair of mountain blue-jays flitting across the road drew his eyes to a shock of vibrant color ahead. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement at the source of color until he recognized the blanket of wildflowers growing in the ditch. Pine and cedar scents wafted through his open windows, giving him an acute sense of being alive.

Several times in recent months, he’d meant to ask his undersheriff how ‘The Lodge’ had been found in the search for a rental for his newlywed sheriff. After the destruction of his home, he was humbled at the memory of how his community rallied to present him with a homey place to bring his bride.

Named The Lodge by the original owners’ decades earlier, the rental house was nestled in a section of virgin forest. It wasn’t his grandfather’s woods but he considered it the next best thing. Rebuilding on his own property was definitely his plan, but for now, he was content to enjoy this retreat in the familiar wood setting.

Light-heartedly, he parked next to Jana’s Land Rover and noticed a layer of dirt covering the rear of her vehicle. Wondering where she’d been, he approached the house and was glad to see she had activated the alarm codes. Sometimes she didn’t set the alarm system and he didn’t like her out here alone without protection. It bothered him that she could get engrossed in what she was doing, becoming totally oblivious to what was going on around her. He’d offered to teach her to use any or all of the guns in the house, but she resisted and didn’t seem bothered to be alone. Until recently, he had always been comfortable being alone in the woods, but lately shadows and unseen noises took on an ominous threat he’d not experienced before.

Juggling the mail and his briefcase, he punched in his code and opened the backdoor to the kitchen. Smells that made his stomach growl greeted him, bubbling from the crock-pot on the counter. The dining table was set for two. He placed his briefcase on the opposite end of the table. Moving the mail from under his arm, he heard a soft, Hey, you! coming from behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, he grinned at his wife who was leaning against the doorway. The belt of her robe was clinched tight and her hair still wet from the shower, her luscious lips chased away thoughts of food.

Dropping the mail onto his briefcase, he turned with arms wide offering the unneeded invitation, her body already connecting with his as she lifted her eager mouth. Impatient hands drew him closer, their lips meeting hungrily.

The hard Kevlar vest under his uniform pressed against her. The thick gun-belt with its compliment of law-enforcement paraphernalia pushed harshly into her body. His hands ran across her back and down to grope her buttocks, pulling her closer.

Feeling her leg rub his thigh, he pulled on her robe and soon found his hand stroking soft bare skin, but she began to wiggle free and arched her back away from him saying, Ouch, your sheriff stuff is committing ‘unnecessary roughness.’ Lowering her head to better see, she tugged at his belt, but looked up smiling. It’s not fair. I can’t get into your pants, she whispered.

Intending to take a quick shower, he grinned at the thought of getting naked with this woman spinning a spell around him, Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes?

Her hands grabbed his shirt, No way, I’m not letting you get away. I want to undress you!

Catching him unaware, she reversed their positions, pushing him against the wall while she feverishly worked to unbuckle his gun belt. Letting it slide to the floor she began unbuttoning his shirt, aware of his growing smile and moving hands slipping under her robe.

Much of the time, his new wife seemed to treat their sexual foreplay as a game or a tease and he found it exhilarating beyond his wildest dreams. He laughed, pulling at her robe, while she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out of his uniform trousers. Moving his arms away from his body to allow her removal of his vest and T-shirt underneath, he jerked when her wet mouth sucked his nipple and her hands dropped to fumble with his trousers’ fly.

Taking her head in both hands, pulling her face to meet his, he hungrily kissed those rosebud lips. Plundering her mouth, unaware of what her hands were doing, he was surprised when he felt his trousers drop to the floor. The rush of cool air on his bare legs was a signal he couldn’t ignore. Twisting away from her grasp he pleaded, Jana, I’m sweaty and dirty, let me take a shower first.

Oh no, big boy, you’re not getting away from me, she grinned. Leaning away