Read Hidden in the Shadows Online
Authors: T. L. Haddix
“Yes, and all the other shelves are neat and organized by height. So?”
Ethan held up a hand. “I touched some of her books today at her office. Touched, Wyatt, ran my fingers over the spines. She damned near took my head off. The woman was an obsessive neat freak, to the point where she probably suffered from OCD. This shelf, with these books messed up like this? This would give her a panic attack.”
Wyatt rubbed his face, looking at all the things Ethan had pointed out. “We can’t build a case on what you’ve shown me.”
The detective practically growled with frustration. “I know. Maybe trace will show us something. Can we get the assistant in here to take a look around?”
“Afraid not,” Stacy answered as she walked into the room, the coroner behind her. “She had to be sedated.” Stopping beside Wyatt, she eyed Ethan. “You don’t think she killed herself, do you?”
“No. It’s too neat, and way too convenient.”
She agreed. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Harvey, did you see anything odd?” Wyatt asked the coroner, who stood beside him.
“Not yet, but I’ll pay special attention when I do the autopsy tomorrow morning.”
With little else to do inside the house, they headed outside. Harvey headed to his van. The weather had turned nasty, with a cold, slow drizzle bringing an early evening to the day.
“I hope I’m wrong,” Ethan said. “I hope she did commit suicide, because if she did, we can probably keep all this hidden. If this was murder, though, those letters are all going into evidence.”
Wyatt laid a hand on his shoulder, knowing the detective was probably thinking about how the revelation of the letters would affect the victims. “Ethan, we’ll handle the fallout if that happens.”
After a minute, Ethan nodded. “Okay, Boss.”
A little after ten o’clock, Wyatt pulled into his garage. He was completely exhausted. Instead of going back to the office or to Maria’s, he’d helped with the canvass of the neighborhood.
When he’d stopped for a few minutes to text Maria and get some coffee, Stacy had shaken her head at him. “You’re avoiding her.”
“I’m not ready to talk to her yet. And no offense, but I’m not talking to you or Ethan about Maria, either.”
He’d continued working until the last house had been visited. Once that was accomplished, he’d driven home, cold and damp, and so tired he hurt.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Ethan had been called to the scene of a domestic dispute that had resulted in one of the parties being shot. Though the woman had been airlifted out, she was expected to survive. That was the third such incident in the last week, and the most serious. When Ethan had checked in with him just before Wyatt left town, the detective had sounded as tired as Wyatt felt.
“It’s connected to that damned forum, but it’s worse; he’s escalating. This time, he posted the inflammatory material, as well as mailing it to the parties involved. Just in case they missed it on the internet,” Ethan said.
“We’re being run ragged by this character,” Wyatt had growled. “He’s toying with us, Ethan. I feel it. I’m very much afraid he’s leading up to something big.”
As he dragged his weary carcass into the bathroom and stood under the shower trying to get warm, he felt his age. Wyatt worked hard at keeping himself as fit as the officers under his command, but on nights like the one he’d just had, the years seemed to add up all at once. He stayed in the shower a long time, letting the water rinse away some of his anger and frustration. Thanks to the tankless water heater he’d added a couple years ago, he didn’t run out of hot water, but after a while, Mix started scratching at the shower door with a concerned whine.
Wyatt got out and dried off, pulling on a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. “We’ll curl up in just a little while, buddy,” he told the dog as he scratched behind the shepherd’s ears.
As he passed through the bedroom on the way downstairs, the phone on the nightstand taunted him. He’d sent Maria another text earlier, telling her he wouldn’t be stopping by that evening.
“
Are you still mad?”
she texted back. He hadn’t really known how to answer that. Finally, he settled on the truth.
“
A little. Been a rough night. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Her response came a long minute later.
“Okay. You need space. Understand. Good night. Stay safe.”
He’d texted back a response for her to do the same, and that was that.
Feeding Mix and Match in the kitchen, he was struck by how quiet the house was. It felt empty in a way it hadn’t since Julie died. They hadn’t been happy there, not really, but he didn’t think he’d realized how unhappy until the past weekend. Having Maria there, even though she’d been somewhat subdued because of her surgery, had filled the house with a warmth that had brought the place back to life.
“I’m being stupid,” he told the animals as they ate. “I know that. This is why I didn’t want to get involved with her. I knew I’d get stupid and screw things up.”
Pouring a glass of milk for himself, he stared out the window into the darkness beyond. “Not going over there tonight was probably a mistake, but I’m just too raw right now. I’ll open my stupid mouth and say something I shouldn’t, then she’ll never want to marry me. God, I can’t believe I just said that.” The words had surprised him, but more than that, he was stunned to realize he meant them.
He waited until the animals finished their meals, then let Mix out for his nightly run. The dog didn’t stay out long, the cold rain ushering him back inside with haste. Weariness in every line of his body, Wyatt led his pets back upstairs. With a regretful look at his phone, he turned off the light and crawled under the covers.
As he drifted to sleep, he realized that, for the first time since Julie had died, he had worked an apparent suicide and hadn’t felt the gut-wrenching guilt that had become the norm with such scenes. Unsure whether his lack of reaction was because he no longer carried the weight of the burden of knowledge about Julie’s death alone, or because he’d let his life with her go, he was grateful. The reasons why didn’t seem to matter.
News of the suicide spread through town like wildfire. By lunchtime the next day, people were speculating as to the hows and whys. Several people had stopped to ask Wyatt about Leslie Simms’s death while he was having lunch in the Brown Bag with Ethan. When it finally quieted down, they were able to discuss the coroner’s findings.
“So it definitely wasn’t suicide, then?” Ethan asked, keeping his voice low.
“No. Harvey called, and the bruising on her neck was a dead giveaway, forgive the pun. And he found a tiny pinprick in her hairline, probably from a syringe. He’s running toxicology panels, but it could be a couple of weeks before the results come back.”
Ethan tugged on the knot of his tie and loosened it a little. “How are we handling this?”
Wyatt grimaced. “We’re going to report it as a probable suicide for now. We’ll make the rounds—again—to the extortion victims and get their alibis. And I’ll be meeting with Rhonda Roberts and John, so we can start planning a press conference.”
The detective’s jaw clenched. “It’s come to that, then?”
“Afraid so. I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I should have come forward six years ago.”
“Have you told Maria?”
Wyatt looked down at the remnants of his sandwich. “Not yet.”
“You might want to do that.”
He looked at the younger man, who gazed at him with concern. “I’ll tell her as soon as I can, okay?”
“Just promise me you’ll do it before the press conference?”
“I don’t remember courtship being such a group activity,” Wyatt said, glowering across the table.
Ethan’s eyes lit up with amusement, but he got back to business. “Anyhow, Maria told Stacy and me that she thinks she has enough information on her computer to track this guy down.”
Wyatt pushed his plate away. “So she’s going to work from home, then?”
“Yes. You would know that if you called her or went to see her.”
Wyatt ignored the comment. “Maybe we can get the drop on our extortionist if we work fast enough.”
“One can hope.”
Lunch finished, they gathered their trays and stood to leave. From behind them came the sound of a man clearing his throat. When he turned, Wyatt saw Doug Whitaker standing there.
“Mr. Whitaker.”
With a supercilious smile, Whitaker greeted them. “Sheriff. I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation. You’ve caught the blackmailer?”
Wyatt stilled, something about the man’s smug expression setting off a warning bell in his head. “We have a person of interest, yes. And I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut about what you overheard.”
Whitaker puffed up, his chin rising. “Excuse me, Mr. High-and-Mighty. If you don’t want your conversation to be heard, don’t have it in public. And as a citizen—”
“I don’t care, Doug. I really don’t. Have a nice day.” He brushed past Ethan and headed out the door.
“Someday, someone is going to knock you off that high horse you’re riding, Wyatt Dixon,” Whitaker shouted. “I just hope I’m there to see it when it happens.” The other patrons fell into a shocked silence.
Stopping with the door open, Wyatt slowly turned, disbelief warring with anger inside him.
Ethan, who was right behind him, gently pushing him toward the door. “Keep walking, keep walking. Just let it go. You can’t afford to let go on him right now.”
Even knowing Ethan was right, Wyatt had to fight to calm down. He resisted for a few seconds, but then let the younger man guide him out the door.
While they waited for the light to change so they could cross back over to the courthouse, Wyatt clenched and unclenched his fists. “I really don’t like him. Has the background check come back on him yet?”
“No. I sent it to Charlie Clark, and it should be back any day now. I’ll give him a call when we get back to the office.”
“Good. Something about Whitaker just makes my skin crawl.”
When they walked back into the department, Wyatt could tell from the look on Neva’s face that something was wrong. He and Ethan stopped at her desk.
“What? Do I even want to know?” he asked with a weary groan.
Neva shot him a stern glance and stood, coming out from behind her desk. She pointed at Ethan. “You. Ride the desk while I have a word with the boss.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As Ethan took her seat, Wyatt could tell he was amused. It didn’t matter who wore the sheriff’s badge because the woman who led him into the small conference room was really in charge, and they all knew it.
“Have a seat, Sheriff. There are a couple of things we need to discuss.” Arms crossed, she waited until he sat. “Why haven’t you called Maria?”
Wyatt scowled and started to stand. “Neva, I don’t have time—”
“You’ll make time.”
Resigned to being lectured, he plunked back down and gave her his full attention.
“The girl deserves better. I know you’re angry because of that stunt they pulled yesterday, but they did what they had to do to try to solve this case none of you are talking about.”
“I know that,” he conceded.
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why haven’t you called her?”
He spread his hands. “I’m not discussing this with you. I respect you, I like you, but that’s none of your business.” When Neva gave in with a sigh, he realized that scolding him over not having called Maria hadn’t been her real goal in sequestering him.
“I’ve had three people come to me today and ask what’s going on between the two of you. This department—heck, this courthouse—is abuzz with rumors.”
Wyatt felt his cheeks flush. “It’s nobody’s business, what’s going on between us.”
“Normally, I would agree with you about that. However, when a man in your position starts dating one of his employees, it can cause some big problems if you don’t handle it carefully. You should know that already, without me having to tell you.”
“I’m not going to stop seeing Maria, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“Good. And I’m not suggesting you do. But I think the two of you do need to make an announcement, send out a memo, that addresses some valid concerns, like what happens if someone has a complaint against Maria. They’d normally bring that to you, but not if you’re dating her. Or married to her.” When his jaw dropped in surprise, she smirked. “I’ve known you too long to think you’re not serious about the girl.”