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Did he and Uncle Bryce have a problem with Doc Sheraton?
I’ve always considered Doc Sheraton to be a good guy, but now? Knowing that his daughter had a part in what happened to Rory and Callie all those years ago? I’m not sure. I’m not one to blame the parent for the sins of the child, but I can’t discount the fact that kids who commit crimes usually haven’t been raised perfectly.
Doc Sheraton is a widower, though, so he had to raise his daughter alone. He probably wasn’t there for her as much as he should’ve been through no fault of his own.
Who knows? Just another piece to this puzzle that is becoming more convoluted every day.
“So this land, then,” I say to Dad. “It’s under lease to Doc Sheraton?”
“It is. When he asked if he could rent it, after buying the adjacent tract, Uncle Bryce and I agreed. We felt kind of bad for not offering him the job on our payroll.”
“I see.”
“It was a rational business decision,” Dad continues, “but like I’ve said a million times before, we’ve always wanted to support the local community. And we didn’t support Doc Sheraton this time.”
About ten years ago…
Those are the words my father started this conversation with.
Ten years ago.
Around the same time Pat Lamone and Brittany Sheraton drugged Rory and Callie and took those incriminating photos.
I file that information in my mind for future reference.
At the moment?
We need to figure out why these particular GPS coordinates were left in an envelope for Donny in a safe-deposit box he never rented.
“Let’s take a look,” Dad says.
“Okay. How do we get to the exact coordinates?”
We’re parked on what appears to be vacant land.
“No freaking clue,” he says. “Let’s drive the perimeter of this tract.”
“How big is this tract?”
“Several hundred acres.”
“Then we have to go to the exact point of the GPS coordinates.”
“Yeah,” Dad says, “except I’m not exactly sure how to get there. There are no roads here.”
“Fuck. Seriously?”
“Seriously. As far as I know, it’s a tract of vacant land. Why Sheraton wanted to rent it is beyond me.”
“For grazing maybe?”
“He doesn’t raise cattle or horses.”
“He raises dogs,” I say.
Guard dogs, specifically. Doc Sheraton may well have provided the dogs for whoever is behind all of this.
“Right,” Dad says. “Dobermans and Rottweilers. He trains them as guard dogs.”
