C Box: In Plain Sight

“Go!” McLanahan shouted at his men. “Go round ’em up now!”

“Stay here,” Joe said to Julie and Sheridan. His daughter cradled Julie in her arms. Julie sobbed, her head down.

Joe, holding his shotgun pointed above the fray, stepped around his truck and saw three deputies including Deputy Mike Reed rush the three prone Scarlett Brothers. Reed was the only deputy Joe considered sane and professional. The others were recent hires by McLanahan and were, to a man, large, mulish, quick with their fists, and just as quick to look away if an altercation involved someone who was a friend of the Sheriff’s Department-or, more specifically, McLanahan himself.

Arlen simply rolled to his stomach and put his hands behind his back to be cuffed, saying, “Take it easy, boys, take it easy, I’m cooperating…”

Wyatt, after watching Arlen, did the same, although he looked confused.

It took all three deputies to subdue Hank, who continued to curse and kick and swing at them, one blow connecting solidly with Deputy Reed’s mouth, which instantly bloomed with bright-red blood. Finally, after a pepper spray blast to his eyes, Hank curled up in the dirt and the deputies managed to cuff his hands behind him and bind his cowboy boots together with Flex-Cuffs.

AFTER TWO YEARS as county sheriff, McLanahan still seemed to be somewhat unfinished, which is why he had apparently decided in recent months to assume a new role, that of “local character.” After trying on and discarding several personas-squinty-eyed gunfighter, law-enforcement technocrat, glad-handing politician-McLanahan had decided to aspire to the mantle of “good old boy,” a stereotype that had served his predecessor Bud Barnum well for twenty-four years. In the past six months, McLanahan had begun to slow his speech pattern and pepper his pronouncements and observations with arcane westernisms. He’d even managed to make his face go slack. His sheriff’s crisp gray Stetson had been replaced by a floppy black cowboy hat and his khaki department jacket for a bulky Carhartt ranch coat. Rather than drive the newest sheriff’s department vehicle, McLanahan opted for an old county pickup with rust spots on the panels. He bought a Blue Heeler puppy to occupy the passenger seat, and had begun to refer to his seven-acre parcel of land outside the city limits as his “ranch.”

McLanahan squatted down in the middle of the triangle of handcuffed brothers and asked, “Can one of you tell me just what in the hell this is all about?”

Joe listened.

“Mama’s gone,” Hank said, his voice hard. “And that son-of-a-bitch there”-he nodded toward Arlen-“thinks he’s going to get the ranch.”

McLanahan said, “What do you mean she’s gone? Like she’s on a vacation or something?”

Hank didn’t take his eyes off of Arlen. “Like that son-of-a-bitch killed her and hid the body,” he said.

“What?” McLanahan said.

There was a high, unearthly wail, an airy squeal that seemed to come down from the mountains. The sound made the hairs on Joe’s neck stand up. It was Wyatt. The big man was crying.

Joe looked over his shoulder at his pickup truck, to see if Julie had heard. Luckily, the windows were up and she was still being held by Sheridan.

“Mind if I stand up now?” Arlen asked the sheriff.

McLanahan thought it over, nodded his assent, and told Deputy Reed to help Arlen up but to keep him away from Hank.

Joe squatted down a few feet from Wyatt.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked. “Are you hurt?”

Wyatt just continued to sob, his head between his knees, his back heaving, tears spattering the ground between his boots. Joe asked again. Wyatt reached up with his cuffed hands and smeared his tears across his dirty face.

“Where’s my mom?” Wyatt asked, his words mushy. Joe noticed Wyatt had missing teeth. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “She can’t be far.”

“But Hank says she’s gone.”

Joe said, “I’m sure we’ll find her.”

Wyatt’s eyes flared, and for a second Joe thought the man would strike out at him.

“Where’s my mom?” Wyatt howled.

“Pickett!” McLanahan yelled, “What are you doing over there?”

Joe stood uneasily, searching Wyatt’s upturned, tragic face for a clue to his behavior. “Making sure Wyatt’s okay,” Joe said.

“He’s not,” McLanahan said, and one of the deputies laughed. “Trust me on that one.”

Joe looked at Arlen, and Hank. Both brothers were turned toward Wyatt, but neither said anything. They simply stared at their younger brother as if they were observing an embarrassing stranger.

Joe walked over to Deputy Reed, who was holding a bandanna to his split lip.

“What do you think the deal is with Opal?” Joe asked, out of earshot of the Scarlett brothers.

“Don’t know,” Reed said. “But I do know that old woman’s just too goddamned mean to die.”

WHILE SHERIFF MCLANAHAN interviewed each of the brothers quietly and individually, Joe concluded that he was no longer needed and, by inadvertently bringing Julie, he had done more harm than good.

“I’ve got Julie Scarlett, Arlen’s daughter, in my truck,” Joe told Reed. “I don’t want her to see any more. I think I need to get her home to her mother.” Joe gestured toward Arlen.

“You mean Hank?” Reed asked.

“No,” Joe said. “I mean her dad, Arlen.”

Reed squinted. “Arlen isn’t her dad.”

Joe wasn’t sure what to say. He had dropped Julie off before at the big ranch house where she lived with Arlen, her mother, and Opal. As far as Joe knew, Hank lived alone in a hunting lodge on the other side of the ranch.

“What do you mean?” Joe asked.

Reed shrugged. “When it comes to the Scarletts, nothing is as it seems. Julie and her mother moved out of Hank’s place years ago, but from what I understand, Hank is her dad.”

Joe wondered if Sheridan knew this, if Julie had told her. Or if Reed was mistaken.

“Either way,” Joe said, “I think I should get her home.”

Reed nodded. “If you see Opal, give us a call.”

“I will. Do you really think she’s missing?”

Reed scoffed. “Do you really think those men would be out here beating each other with shovels if she was back home baking cookies? The whole damned county has been scared of the day when Opal passed on and those three would start fighting for the ranch. Now it looks like that day has come.”

As Joe turned toward his truck, he heard McLanahan shout at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the ranch,” Joe said over his shoulder. “It looks like you’ve got things handled here.”

“It’s okay,” Reed told his boss. “He’s got Hank’s little girl with him.”

“I’ll need your statement,” McLanahan said. “It sounds like you were one of the last people to see Opal alive.”

Joe turned, surprised. He had talked to Opal the day before about charging fishermen access fees. One of the brothers must have told McLanahan that.

“When do you need the statement?”

“Tonight.”

Joe thought of Marybeth’s last words to him that morning. She asked him to be home on time because she was cooking dinner and wanted to have the whole family there for a change. With her business thriving, that was a rarity. He had promised he would be home.

“Can it be tomorrow morning?” Joe asked.

The sheriff’s face darkened. “No, it can’t. We’ve got to jump all over this one, and what you’ve got to tell us may help.”

Joe looked up. He saw that Julie’s head was up, her eyes on her uncles and father. He wanted to get her away from there, and quickly.

“Tonight,” McLanahan called after him.