Chapter 22
Di dropped me off at home. By a little after 10:00 p.m., I had showered, put on my jammies, and curled up on the sofa to watch the TV news. I must have nodded off, because I woke up to a late-night talk show host interviewing some starlet I didn't recognize. I turned off the television, and as I stood up, I felt the beers I'd had earlier in the evening weighing heavily on my bladder. I switched off the light in the den and switched on the light in the downstairs bathroom.
Just as I pulled up my pants, I thought I heard some movement in the garage. I initially dismissed it as a neighborhood cat, until I heard the very distinctive squeaking of the door leading from the garage into the kitchen. I started to call out, “Larry Joe, is that you?” But a growing sense of unease trapped the words in my throat. Instead of saying anything or going to investigate, I quietly stepped into the tub and hid behind the shower curtain, wishing my cell phone was in my pocket instead of in my purse, which was sitting on the floor next to the kitchen table.
I steadied myself against the tile wall and listened to the thud of heavy footsteps, followed by the sounds of cabinet doors and drawers slamming. I heard a muffled voice say, “I'll look upstairs.” The realization that two men had actually broken into my house caused my Adam's apple to swell to the size of a melon. I tried to breathe quiet, shallow breaths, which is hard to do when your Adam's apple is crushing your windpipe.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of stuff being tossed around in the den, followed by a loud crashing noise. At the sound of the crash, I gasped and my muscles involuntarily jerked, one arm flailing against the shower curtain. I grabbed the errant arm, praying that the intruders had not heard the slap of my arm against the plastic curtain.
A moment later I heard footsteps again, closer now, in the hallway just outside the open bathroom door. I held my breath. At that very moment, the Newsoms' car alarm started blaring. Since it was such a regular occurrence, it barely registered with me, but fortunately, it spooked the intruders.
Cabinet doors slammed in the laundry room. I heard the thunder of footsteps down the stairs and through the kitchen.
“Find anything?” said a muffled voice from the kitchen.
From the hallway, a familiar voice bellowed, “No, but they could have burned the damn tapes by now, for all we know. Let's get the hell out of here before the sheriff shows up to check out that alarm. I'm taking this.”
I didn't know what “this” was, but I honestly didn't care what they stole as long as they went away.
Clacking sounds, hurried footsteps, and the squeak of the door into the garage.
I waited a couple of minutes, listening intently. When I felt confident the intruders were gone, I gingerly stepped out of the tub, tiptoed into the hall, and peered carefully into the kitchen. Seeing and hearing nothing, I hurried to my purse, fished my cell phone out, and retreated behind the shower curtain againâjust in case they decided to return.
I called Di, figuring she was my fastest, surest connection to Sheriff Dave.
“Don't talk. Just listen. Get Dave to come to my house right this minute. Two men broke in. I think they've gone, but I'm afraid they might come back.”
Exactly six minutes later, according to the clock on my phone, I received a text from Dave.
Open front door in sixty secs, or will break it down.
I drew a deep breath, sprinted to the front door, and stepped back as Dave and Ted rushed in, weapons drawn.
“I'm pretty sure they're gone,” I whispered.
“Wait right here,” Dave said. He looked at Ted and pointed to the stairs. The deputy went upstairs, while Dave searched the downstairs. Di slipped in quietly through the front door, and I collapsed on her shoulder, sobbing.
Di gently guided me over to the sofa, which, along with all the other furniture in the living room, was draped with a drop cloth and covered with dried paint spatter. When the lawmen returned from their search, I was holding on to Di's arm like a drowning man to a life preserver. I wouldn't say I had regained my composure, but I was beginning to inhale and exhale with regularity.
“It's all clear,” Dave said, taking off his hat and taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite the sofa. “Stuff's been tossed around, and a couple of things are broken. You'll need to look and tell me if anything's missing. But first, did you get a look, even a brief one, at the perpetrators? Do you think you could identify them?”
“I didn't see them. Just heard them. I have no idea who one of the men was. I only heard his voice from the kitchen, kind of muffled. But the one doing most of the talking was Ralph Harvey.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“I know Ralph's voice. I talked to him just this afternoon at the hospital. There's no doubt it was him. I'd be willing to swear to that under oath. And I'm also pretty sure I know what they were looking forâand that they didn't find it. Ralph said something like âThey could have burned the tapes already, for all we know.'”
I told Daveâand Ted and Di, who were also listening intentlyâabout Ralph's cryptic comments at the hospital about the videotapes, and how I had wondered at the time if this was some kind of veiled threat.
We looked in the den, and I immediately noticed that the desktop computer was missing. The monitor screen was broken, and the TV was smashed and lying facedown on the floor. It had probably made the loud crashing sound I'd heard. The kitchen was also in disarray, with cutlery and canned goods strewn about. But none of the appliances were missing, and I didn't think it likely they'd stolen any pots and pans. I went upstairs and did a quick inventory of my jewelry and Larry Joe's guns. Nothing seemed to be missing.
“I have more questions,” Dave said. “But if you're sure it was Ralph, I don't want to waste any time before tracking him down. You feel up to riding along with me?”
“Sure. There's no way I'm staying in this house tonight, anyway.”
“I'm coming with you,” Di said.
We climbed into Dave's truck, and Ted got into the patrol car. They drove first to Ralph's house, but Ralph's truck wasn't there, and no lights were on. Ted peered through the windows, then turned to Dave and shook his head. After a brief discussion, Ted drove out to McKay's to look for Ralph, and Dave drove around the block and parked on the street, with a clear view through the neighbor's yard into Ralph's driveway.
Dave shut off the engine and twisted to face us, while keeping watch out the passenger window for any sign of Ralph. “You're sure there was someone else with Ralph, that he wasn't just talking to himself or maybe talking on his cell phone?”
“No. I definitely heard a different voice say, âI'll look upstairs' and âFind anything?' He was in the kitchen, so his voice was muffled. But Ralph, at one point, was standing right outside the bathroom where I was hiding. You know the Newsoms? Their car alarm went off, thank God, and startled Ralph and the other guy. They left in a hurry.”
“Maybe the other guy was Bobo,” Di offered.
“No. The one person I know it isn't is Bobo,” Dave said. “The Feds have had him in custody since about six this evening.”
“Do you think they intended to hurt Liv? With Ralph making those sly threats at the hospital . . . ,” Di said.
“I don't think so. I don't think they thought anyone was at home, since there were no cars in the garage. By the way, Liv, where is your car? And where's Larry Joe?”
“We left his truck at the hospital and went to dinner together in my car. He dropped me off at the house and drove my car back to the hospital. His mom was going to drive herself home in his truck.”
“Did his dad take a turn for the worse?” Di asked.
“No. He's better, but he's ornery. He won't call the nurses' station for help getting to the bathroom, and he almost fell this afternoon. We didn't trust him enough to leave him on his own.”
Headlights suddenly bathed Dave's truck cab in light as a vehicle swung into Ralph's driveway. We instinctively shrank into the shadows, remaining motionless until the light was extinguished. Dave reached for his cell phone instead of the radio, I supposed to avoid alerting anyone who might be monitoring a police scanner.
“Ted, looks like our man just arrived home.” After a pause, he added, “Roger that.”
Looking at Di and me, Dave said, “Ted's just pulling into the neighborhood. No matter what happens, you two stay here with the doors locked. If anybody approaches the truck, you lay on the horn to let me know.”
Dave got out of the truck, walked through the neighbor's yard, and leapt over the low picket fence separating the yard from Ralph's.
Di and I each reached out and simultaneously slapped the door locks on the passenger- and driver-side doors. Normally, being told to stay put would have raised my hackles, but I was still very much in “hide behind the shower curtain” mode after the ordeal at the house. Going out to look for trouble, like breaking into Ray Franklin's camper or stalking strangers in a karaoke bar, is much more within my comfort zone than having someone violate the sanctuary of my own home.
We hunkered down on the seat, huddled together, and silently watched the action unfold.
Ted, who must have parked down the block, walked up to the side of the house from the next-door neighbor's yard. Dave signaled to him from the backyard. Then Ted walked around the house to the front door, while Dave positioned himself beside the back door.
In a matter of seconds, Ralph came running out the back door. Dave grabbed him by the collar and shoved him down onto the grass. Ted rushed from the front yard and fastened handcuffs on Ralph's wrists as Dave held him down. The two lawmen grabbed Ralph by his upper arms and helped him up to a standing position. Ted pulled the cruiser into the driveway, and Dave placed Ralph in the back of it.
Dave walked back to the truck, and Di unlocked the door. Neither of us had spoken a word through Ralph's entire capture and arrest.
“Di, if you don't mind, go ahead and drive my truck to the police station. I'm going to take a look inside Ralph's truck and house. Ted will come back here to get me after he puts Ralph in a cell. Liv, I'm going to get you to sign an official complaint against Ralph, identifying him as the man who broke into your house.”
We both nodded, and Di slid over behind the steering wheel.
I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Ralph was in custody. But I still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that whoever it was that had been with him in my house was still on the loose.
On the drive to the station, Di told me she thought I'd better spend the night at her place. I was grateful, especially since there was no way I was going to spend the night in my own house alone.
“Thanks, Di. I'll take you up on the offer. But why don't you just drop me at the police station and head on home? I'm sure Ted or Dave can run me over to your place after I've finished up. There's no reason you shouldn't try to get some sleep. I can let myself in and crash on the sofa.”
“Naw. I'll just hang out at the station with you. I'm too wound up to sleep, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I said, giving Di a weary smile and feeling thankful to have such a good friend.
“You know you're going to have to tell Larry Joe all about the security tapes and the break-in now.”
“Yeah, I know. But I'm not going to the hospital tonight. No need to wake him up, and I certainly don't want to upset Daddy Wayne. Can you drop me off at the hospital first thing in the morning?”
“Of course. Since I don't have to work tomorrow, I'll even sit with Mr. McKay until Miss Betty gets to the hospital, if you need me to.”
Apparently, Dave had told Terry, the dispatcher, we were coming. She offered us coffee and told us we were welcome to wait in the sheriff's office. More telling, she didn't ask us what we were doing there.
Cops must like their coffee extra strong. Three packets of creamer made mine barely tolerable.
“Now that we know it couldn't have been Bobo in the house with Ralph, who do you think it was, if you had to guess?” Di asked as she sat in the sheriff's chair, with her feet propped on his desk.
“I don't know. Maybe Rudy, the mechanic. I don't think he's much of a talker. And if they're both mixed up in this drug-smuggling deal, I could see him tagging along as Ralph's little helper for a break-in.”
“By the way, I talked to Dave on the phone after I got home from the karaoke,” Di said. “He knows who Brad is and said he'd do a bit of digging into what he's been up to.”
“Good,” I said. “Even if Brad didn't kill the Farrells, which he certainly seems capable of doing, he's a walking menace.”
We were too tired to make idle conversation, so there was a silent hiatus. Di retrieved a file from her purse and worked on her nails and I sipped on muddy coffee and wondered how I was going to tell Larry Joe about everything.
Our respective soul-searching and grooming activities were interrupted when Dave walked in and plopped down in the chair next to me. Di didn't offer to move, and he didn't ask her to.
Hmm
.
“Well,” Dave said, “the computer was sitting on the floorboard of Ralph's truck, in plain sight.”
“Liv thinks it might have been Rudy who broke into her place with Ralph.”
“I'm afraid that's another dead end. I told you we've been keeping an eye on Rudy. He was supposed to be going to Nashville with a group of friends for a concert tonight. Andy, a friend of mine on the Nashville force, does a little moonlighting as a security guard for events at Bridgestone Arena. I called and gave him the seat number on Rudy's ticket, which one of our informants had sneaked a peek at, and asked Andy to e-mail me a photo of who was sitting there. I just wanted to make sure Rudy was where he was supposed to beâand he was.”