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It was easy to lose sight of the mission when you were mired in the muck day after day. But this was the reason we did what we did. It was because people like Coach Hargrove didn’t have anyone to speak for them, and they deserved better.
Chapter Eleven
“Well,” Jack said, once we were back in the car. His voice was hoarse, and I could tell he’d been just as moved as I had.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a resolve deep inside of me that I hadn’t felt for a long time. “Let’s go find a killer.”
“Let’s see if anyone is still at the high school,” he said. “Maybe we can catch multiple birds with one stone.”
There had been one high school in King George County for decades, and it was in Bloody Mary since Bloody Mary had the most land for the football stadium and sports complex. But the county was increasing at such a rapid pace that one high school wasn’t going to work for too much longer. The school had tried to pass a bond for a second high school the year before and there’d been so much opposition and arguments that they’d decided to wait another couple of years before they put it on the ballot again.
That was the thing about living in a place like King George County. The people here were strong in tradition and family values, and people took pride in the same surnames passing from generation to generation and staying close to home. They also hated change. I’d been in high school when the public library got the internet for the first time, and there’d almost been a brawl in the Towne Square.
The parking lot of King George High School was half full of cars. There were students and parents in the lot, lingering over conversation before getting back in the vehicles and driving away.
“Let’s try the field house,” Jack said. “There are still a lot of cars parked there.”
Jack parked his truck and turned his lights on, and I climbed out, dread lodging in the pit of my stomach. After talking to Mrs. Hargrove, I realized this was a very volatile situation. Joe Able had the means, motive, and opportunity. But as angry as the parents and students were, anyone else could have killed Coach Hargrove under the right circumstances.
His morning routine was as consistent as the sunrise, and so was Mrs. Hargrove’s for that matter. She went to the grocery store every Friday morning. It wasn’t a secret that Coach had a shotgun, what he used it for, and where he kept it. Maybe it was premeditated. Maybe someone had two weeks to work up a full head of steam and went over there with the intent to kill and cover it up as a suicide. People often thought they could commit the perfect murder. They were almost always wrong.
“Sheriff,” Mary Cormac said as we made our way along the sidewalk to the field house.
I knew Mary was the school board president. She’d been on the board when Jack and I had been in school. She was a forbidding figure, even though her stature was only a couple of inches over five feet. Her posture was ramrod straight and her steel-gray hair was curled and teased on top and cut short with military precision. Frown lines and crow’s feet were etched on her face, and her eyes were puffy and red rimmed from crying.
Standing next to her was Corbin Maxwell, whose bald, egg-shaped head I’d recognize anywhere. He’d been the algebra teacher when I was in school, but I’d heard he was an administrator now. And next to him was an attractive African American woman who looked to be in her mid-forties.
“Mary,” Jack said, reaching out to shake her hand. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” she said, shaking her head. “A terrible thing about Coach Hargrove. And poor Lydia. I don’t know how she’s dealing with this. Just terrible.”
“I never would have thought Steve would be the type to kill himself,” Corbin said, his mustache quivering in agitation.
“That’s why we’re here,” Jack said. “Steve Hargrove didn’t kill himself. He was murdered.”
There were three gasps of surprise followed by stunned silence.
“Who would do such a thing?” Mary finally muttered, looking back and forth between her colleagues.
“Who wouldn’t do such a thing with everything going on around here lately,” the woman I didn’t know said.
“Sheriff Jack Lawson,” Jack said, reaching out a hand to the woman. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Mary said, pressing her fingers to her lips in distraction. It was obvious she was upset by the latest news. “I should have introduced you. I always just assume that everyone knows Alex.”
“Alexandra Dixon,” she said, returning Jack’s handshake. “I’m the principal here at the high school.”
“She’s Danny’s daughter,” Corbin said.
Alex smiled. “Years of grad school and getting my PhD, and all I’m known for around here is being Danny’s daughter.”
Jack and I both grinned in response. We knew exactly how she felt. That was part of the legacy of living in a place like this. If people didn’t know your mama or your daddy, then they probably didn’t think you were worth knowing at all. Lineage mattered.
“You’ll never get away from it,” Jack said. “I still have to explain to people that I’m Rich Lawson’s son and am not some city interloper trying to corrupt the county.”
I figured this was a conversation I’d let Jack and Alex have. I never wanted to bring up my own parents in conversation.
“We just finished speaking with Mrs. Hargrove,” Jack said. “She filled us in on the shake-up here at the school. She said there are a lot of people who are upset.”
