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"I think that seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?" Miles answered.
"This isn't the time or place for jokes, Miles. I need some answers and I need them now, starting with Sims. I want to know where the paperwork is, why you let him go, and what the hell he meant by this matter of life and death. And then, I want answers as to why you went charging out of here and why Otis is locked up downstairs."
Charlie crossed his arms and leaned against the desk.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Miles told him what had happened. Charlie's jaw dropped open, and by the end, he was pacing around the office.
"When did all this happen?"
"A couple of years ago. Sims didn't remember exactly."
"But you believed the rest of it?"
Miles nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I believed him. Either he was telling the truth, or he's the best actor I've ever seen." In the wake of the adrenaline rush that was slowly dissipating, Miles felt tired.
"So you let him go." A statement, not a question.
"I had to."
Charlie shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. "That wasn't your call to make. You should have come to me first."
"You had to have been there, Charlie. He wouldn't have said anything at all if I started running around here, trying to cut deals with you and Harvey. I made a judgment call. You might think I was wrong, but in the end I got the answer I needed."
Charlie looked out the window, thinking. He didn't like it. Not at all. And not just the fact that Miles had overstepped his bounds and there was a whole lot of explaining to do.
"You got an answer all right," he said finally.
Miles looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It just doesn't sound right, that's all. He knows he's going back to jail unless he can cut a deal, and he suddenly has information about Missy?" He turned to face Miles. "Where was he the last couple of years? There's been a reward, and you know how Sims earns his money. Why hasn't he come forward before now?"
He hadn't thought of that. "I don't know. Maybe he was afraid."
Charlie's eyes darted toward the ground. Or maybe he's lying now.
Miles seemed to read Charlie's mind.
"Look, we'll go talk to Earl Getlin. If he corroborates the story, we could cut a deal so he testifies."
Charlie said nothing. Christ, this was a mess.
"He ran down my wife, Charlie."
"Sims says that Otis said he ran down your wife. There's a big difference between the two, Miles."
"You know my history with Otis."
Charlie turned, holding up his hands. "Of course I do. I know every part of it. And that's why Otis's alibi was among the first we checked out, or don't you remember that? There were witnesses that put him at his house the night of the accident."
"They were his brothers...."
Charlie shook his head in frustration. "Even though you weren't in on the investigation, you know how hard we looked for an answer. We aren't a bunch of buffoons running around here, and neither are the men at the highway patrol. We all know how to investigate a crime, and we did it right, because we wanted the answer as badly as you did. We talked to the right people, we sent the right information into the state labs. But nothing tied Otis to this thing--nothing."
"You don't know that."
"I'm a lot more sure of it than I am of what you're telling me," he answered. He drew a deep breath. "I know this thing has eaten you up since it happened, and you know what? It's eaten me up, too. And if it had happened to me, I would have acted the same way you are. I would have gone crazy had someone run down Brenda and gotten away with it. I probably would have looked for answers on my own, too. But you know what?"
He stopped, making sure that Miles was listening to him.
"I wouldn't have believed the first story that came my way that promised an answer, especially if it was from a guy like Sims Addison. Think about who you're talking about here. Sims Addison. That guy would turn on his own mother if he could get money for it. When his own freedom is at stake, how far do you think he'd be willing to go?"
"This isn't about Sims--"
"Of course it is. He didn't want to go back to prison, and he was willing to say anything to ensure that. Doesn't that make more sense than what you're telling me?"
"He wouldn't lie to me about this."
Charlie met Miles's gaze. "And why not? Because it's too personal? Because it means too much? Because it's too important? Did you ever stop to think that he knew what it would take to get you to let him out of here? He's not stupid, despite his boozing habit. He'd say anything to get himself out of trouble, and from the looks of it, that's exactly what happened."
"You weren't there when he told me. You didn't see his face."
"No? To tell you the truth, I don't think I had to be there. I can imagine exactly how it went. But let's just say you're right, okay? Say Sims was telling you the truth--and let's totally disregard the fact that you were wrong in letting him go without talking to me or to Harvey, okay? Then what? You said that he overheard people talking. That he wasn't even a witness."
"He doesn't have to be."
"Oh, come on, Miles. You know the rules. In court, that's nothing more than hearsay. You don't have a case."
"Earl Getlin can testify."
"Earl Getlin? Who's gonna believe him? One look at his tattoos and his rap sheet and there goes half the jury. Throw in the deal I'm sure he'll want, and there goes the other half." He paused. "But you're forgetting something important, Miles."
"What's that?"
"What if Earl doesn't back it up?"
"He will."
"But what if he doesn't?"
"Then we'll have to get Otis to confess."
"And you think he'll do that?"
"He'll confess."
"You mean if you lean on him hard enough . . ."
Miles stood up, not wanting to listen anymore. "Look, Charlie--Otis killed Missy, it's as simple as that. You might not want to believe it, but maybe you guys did overlook something back then, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it go now." He reached for the door. "I've got a prisoner to interrogate--"
With a swing, Charlie caught the door, closing it.
"I don't think so, Miles. Right now, I think it would be best if you stay out of this for a little while."
"Stay out of it?"
"Yeah. Stay. Out. Of. It. That's an order. I'll take it from here."
"We're talking about Missy, Charlie."
"No. We're talking about a deputy who overstepped his bounds and shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place."
They stood eye to eye for a long moment before Charlie finally shook his head. "Look, Miles, I understand what you're going through, but you're out of it now. I'll talk to Otis, I'll find Sims and talk to him, too. And I'll make a trip up to see Earl. And as for you, I think you should probably head on home. Take the rest of the day off."
"I just started my shift--"
"And now you're finished." Charlie reached for the doorknob. "Now go on, go home. Let me handle this, okay?"
He still didn't like it.
Twenty minutes later, sitting in his office, Charlie wasn't convinced.
He'd been a sheriff for almost thirty years, and he'd learned to trust his instincts. And his instincts now were flashing like strobe lights, cautioning him to be careful.
Right now, he wasn't even sure quite where to start. Otis Timson, probably, since he was downstairs, but he really wanted to talk to Sims first. Miles said he was certain that Sims was telling the truth, but for Charlie, that wasn't quite enough.
Not now. Not in these circumstances.
Not when it was about Missy.
Charlie had witnessed firsthand the struggle that Miles went through after Missy died. God, they'd been in love. Like two young kids, they couldn't keep their eyes and hands off each other. Hugging and kissing, holding hands, flirty looks--it was like no one ever bothered to tell them that marriage was supposed
to be hard. It hadn't even changed when Jonah came along, for God's sake. Brenda used to joke that Miles and Missy would probably be making out in a nursing home, fifty years from now.
And when she died? If it wasn't for Jonah, Miles probably would have joined her. As it was, he practically killed himself anyway. Drinking too much, smoking, losing sleep, losing weight. For a long time, all he could think about was the crime.
The crime. Not an accident. Not in Miles's mind. Always the crime.
Charlie tapped a pencil on the desk.
Here we go again.
He knew all about Miles's investigation, and despite his better judgment, he'd looked the other way. Harvey Wellman had cursed up and down when he'd learned about it, but so what? They both knew Miles wouldn't have stopped his search, no matter what Charlie had said; if it had come right down to it, Miles would have turned in his badge and kept investigating on his own.
He had, though, been able to keep him away from Otis Timson. Thank God for that. There was something between those two, something more than the normal tension between good guys and bad guys. All those stunts the Timsons had pulled-- Charlie didn't need proof to know who'd done it--were a big part of it. But combine it with Miles's tendency to arrest the Timsons first and figure the rest out later, and it became a combustible mix.
Could Otis have run down Missy Ryan?
Charlie pondered that. Possible ... but though Otis had something of a chip on his shoulder and got into a few fights, he had never crossed the line. So far. At least that they could prove. Besides, they'd quietly checked him out. Miles had insisted on it, but Charlie was already a step ahead of him. Was it possible they'd missed something?
He grabbed a pad and, as was his habit, started jotting down his thoughts, trying to keep them straight.
Sims Addison. Was he lying?
He'd given good information in the past. In fact, it had always been good. But this was different. He wasn't doing this for money now, and the stakes were a lot higher. He was doing it to save himself. Did that make him more likely to tell the truth? Or less?
