Julie Lindsey - Shadow Point Deputy

RITA WATCHED FROM her window as the handsome deputy pulled away. Cole Garrett wasn’t the man from the docks and her office. She’d have recognized Cole anywhere. He was the one who settled fistfights outside the courtrooms and calmed criminals being loaded into vehicles destined for prison, and the one on his knees beside benches where folks cried over an unfair verdict. Cole Garrett was a peacekeeper and a hero.

When the coast was clear, Rita kicked off her heels and traded her pencil skirt for a pair of blue jeans. She stuffed bare feet into white, laceless sneakers and grabbed her laptop bag and purse.

Five minutes later, she parked Ryan’s car against the curb outside a crowded café and wandered inside. On television, people being hunted always went somewhere with witnesses. The café seemed a smart choice. Even if she wasn’t being hunted, it surely felt that way, and her home was too quiet. Too vulnerable. If someone got inside while she was there alone, the invader would have complete privacy to do anything he wanted.

Her stomach protested the thought. “A bottle of water, please,” she said to the barista.

“Three dollars.” He set her order on the counter.

Rita gave him a five and walked away. She chose a tall table near the back of the brightly lit room and climbed onto a seat with a view of the front door and window, and also of the muted television anchored near the ceiling. She should’ve told Cole her story. She had to trust someone, and every cell in her body said she could unequivocally trust him. It was stupid that she hadn’t. She dug his card from her bag and set it on the table. She needed to stop feeling overwhelmed and start figuring this mess out.

What would she say? Where should she begin?

The white noise of two dozen voices soothed her frayed nerves. She rubbed cold fingertips in small circles against her temples, plotting ways to open the disturbing conversation. Hello, this is Rita Horn. I know we’ve only just met, but I wanted you to know that I think one of the other deputies is a murderer.

She rolled her eyes as a silent peanut-butter commercial gave way to live coverage at the river.

She dropped her hands onto the table. Her heart leaped into her throat. She scanned the room full of oblivious people, all pecking at their phone screens or chatting with friends. Rita leaned across the table, wholly focused on the scrolling text beneath the coverage.

“Witnesses reported seeing members of the Cade County Sheriff’s Department and Coroner’s Office at this location early this morning. Crime scene tape and a number of road blocks have been put in place as the hours progress. Behind me you can see the continued presence of the CCSD. Our question is, why?”

The young reporter on-screen pressed her fingers against one ear and dropped her gaze. When she raised her face to the camera once more, her skin had gone ghost white.

“Sources have confirmed a body was pulled from the river just after sunrise.”

Rita rose on shaky legs as images of the coroner’s van crossed the communal screen, a turbulent Ohio River in the background. An old factory and a dozen feline silhouettes anchored the scene.

Her ears began to ring as she strode conspicuously to the door, bumping into people and chair legs while watching the television for any last-minute announcements.

The wind was brisk and nippy as she shoved free of the coffee shop’s warmth and safety onto the sidewalk where anyone could see her. Namely a nefarious deputy and the other man from the docks. The one who’d had blood on his dress shirt. She hurried to the little borrowed car and shoved her purse and laptop bag across the console. Rita locked the doors and checked her mirrors before dropping her forehead onto the steering wheel.

Think.

The men she’d seen at the docks had murdered someone. She’d heard the splash. Seen the blood.

And the men had seen her.

She raised her eyes to scan the street and sidewalks around her once more, begging her mind to focus. She couldn’t stay at the coffee shop without someone noticing her imminent breakdown. She couldn’t go home or back to work. The bad guys had already been there. She paused at the thought. Bad guys. Was this even her life?

“What do I do?” she whispered to her windshield. They know who I am. Where I work and live. What did they want? To kill her? Why? She hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t even identify them. Though she had gotten a good look at the deputy who came to her office this morning and could give a rough description of the other guy—size, height, weight, but not much else. Her gaze traveled slowly to the bag on her passenger seat. The pen . What if it was evidence in a murder investigation, and she’d wadded it in tissues and stuffed it in a plastic baggie? There could be fingerprints or DNA evidence or an imperceptible thread. Forensics could find anything, and if the killers knew she had something linking them to the crime, they’d definitely want it back. So what should she do with it?

She considered tossing it out the window.

Her head spun as she pulled carefully into traffic. She should’ve told Deputy Garrett what had happened. Something in her gut said he had nothing to do with the man at her office or the crime scene. Deputy Garrett was trustworthy, and he would help her. There was no more doubt as to whether or not she’d been present for what she thought she’d been present for. She was a witness, albeit probably after the fact, to murder. And she was in danger.

It was time to do what she should’ve done all along.

She slowed at the traffic light and dug through her bag for the handsome deputy’s business card. She’d call him as soon as she got to wherever she was going. Where was that?

The light turned green, and Rita lowered her foot against the gas pedal. The sun-bleached hula girl on her brother’s dashboard bobbled. “Oh, no.” A new and terrifying realization slid like ice into her stomach. If the bad guys knew who she was, where she worked and lived, then they also knew what she drove. And her little brother was currently driving it!

Rita applied brute force to the narrow pedal, racing through downtown, then over the bridge and across the river. She dialed Ryan repeatedly from every traffic light and stop sign.

No answer.

Her mind conjured ghastly images of her new silver truck rolled onto its top or sinking in the river, Ryan trapped inside.

“Hi, Ryan,” she told his voice mail as calmly as possible. “It’s me. Listen. I’m sorry, but I completely forgot I had a thing today, and you can’t use my truck. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I finish my thing.” She cringed. Ryan would never accept her flimsy excuse without explanation, but she couldn’t offer him anything more. Bringing him in on her mess would put him in danger. “Anyway, I’m on my way to your place now. I’ll just trade you back real quick. Sit tight and I’ll be there in ten.”

She bit her lip, hating the lie. She’d promised Ryan long ago that he could always trust anything she said, and until now, she’d held tight to that promise. Hopefully he’d forgive her when she was able to explain the gruesome truth.

Rita switched to back roads as the campus came into view. Main routes and intersections were bogged with student traffic and puttering locals. The little hatchback took corners with ease as she cut through the rear entrance to Ryan’s neighborhood. Her much larger truck would’ve barely passed through the narrow alleyways with cars parked on both sides. If his car didn’t smell like a gym bag filled with burger grease, she’d agree to trade with him more often.

Finally, the home Ryan shared with two other students came into view.