Barbara McMahon - Truth Be Told

She cut over to the high school. The building was smaller than she remembered. The yard stood empty, only a single car in the parking lot. No one hung around during summer break, not even the teachers.

Continuing her walk, Jo soon came to the main street of town. Ahead on the right was the bank. Acting on impulse, she entered the old building. The columns supporting the ceiling were made of marble, as was the floor. She found the old-fashioned ornate fretwork on the ceiling reassuring. At least they hadn’t torn down the old building to make way for progress.

The object of her interest was not in view. Maybe he no longer worked here. It had been twelve years. Who knew what happened to people in that time? Maybe he’d attacked someone else who had been believed and he’d been arrested and sent to prison.

She walked around, unaware at first of the interest she was causing. When she caught the eye of the guard, she knew her attire set off internal alarms. Maybe April had been right, and all black attire with motorcycle boots was a mistake. Or was it the spiky hair?

She turned to leave when she heard the hated voice. Heading for the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Allen McLennon was escorting an elderly woman from an office. He spoke again. Jo couldn’t hear the words, only the smarmy tone of his voice.

Her stomach lurched. Her heart pounded. The man she’d hated for twelve years was only a yard away. What would happen if he saw her? Would he recognize her, or be more concerned about her less-than-conservative appearance? She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked older. Had put on a few pounds. But he still looked fit and strong. Strong enough to beat a teenager who fought off his attempts at seduction, or worse.

“Can I help you?” The guard had come up beside Jo without her being aware. Such inattention in her normal life could get her killed.

She looked at him and shook her head. “I’m just leaving.”

He didn’t say anything more, but watched her until she was out of the door. Once on the sidewalk, Jo took a deep breath.

“Casing the joint?” Sam Witt asked.

She jumped and turned to see the sheriff standing behind her. How had she missed him when she left the bank? Gee, at this rate, she had better retire, or return to traffic detail.

“I thought you were headed off to do some incident report,” she said.

“It’s done. Didn’t take long. What are you up to now?”

“Nothing.” She glanced back at the bank, almost tempted to go back in and confront Allen McLennon.

“Come with me,” Sam said, taking her arm gently. He led her across the street to Ruby’s Café. “Coffee.”

Jo went along, not putting up a fuss like she normally might have. Maybe she wanted to hear what the local sheriff had to say. Or was she in for another lecture?

Ruby’s was almost empty so late in the morning. In a short time the lunch crowd would start arriving, but for now, they practically had the place to themselves.

Sam steered her to a booth near a window and sat opposite her. A waitress hurried over, coffeepot in hand.

“Anything to eat, Sheriff?” the woman asked as she poured.

“Just coffee for me.” Sam looked at Jo. “What will you have?”

“The same.”

The waitress bustled off.

Jo added cream and stirred, then met Sam’s gaze defiantly. “Allen McLennon is the man who tried to rape me and then beat me silly when I was sixteen. I told Maddie. She didn’t believe me, so in retaliation when I was questioned at the hospital, I said she’d beaten me. I was so angry and hurt. I didn’t know what an uproar that would cause. Then that damned sheriff wouldn’t believe me when I told him the truth. Was that in the report?”

Sam looked taken aback. Maybe she should have led up to the revelation, but she felt anger boil up again after seeing that man at the bank living a life no rapist and child beater should live. Her worst fear resurfaced. Had she been the only one? The sheriff and Maddie had both been told the truth. If neither acted on it, was Jo responsible for any further violent acts the man may have committed over the years? The thought bothered her. She should have come back at eighteen and made a stink. Or after graduating from the police academy. Or any time over the last decade.

“Serious accusations,” Sam said.

“The truth, take it or leave it,” she replied. Jo held her breath. She wanted someone to believe her. But the world wouldn’t end if he didn’t. She’d had years of living with others not believing the truth.

Sam sat back and studied her thoughtfully. “And what do you propose to do about it now?”

She shrugged. No overwhelming vote of confidence from the sheriff. “What can I do? The statute of limitations has run out. If he never bothered anyone else, no other charges would have been made. He gets off scot-free.” She paused. “Then again, maybe I should take out a full-page ad in the local paper and let the good folks of Maraville know what a son of a bitch they have as banker.”

“He’s a respected member of the community. Your coming in here and throwing accusations around—”

“Might damage his precious reputation? Who cares? Not me.” Surprisingly, she was disappointed Sam didn’t believe her.

“Might not be believed,” he said.

“So let him sue me for libel.”

“And he’d likely win. What can you do to prove it? It’s his word against yours, and I’m here to tell you the record of the investigation never once mentions his name.”

Jo stared at Sam for a moment, thinking the implications through. “The sheriff was in his pocket. Damned bastard.” She lapsed into silence. There was nothing she could do—except watch the man to see if he’d changed or was still coming on to young girls. But how such behavior could be hidden in such a small town for any length of time was beyond her. Maybe he had just had the hots for the teenager she’d once been, tried to get it on with her, and when he failed, snapped.

She remembered how angry Maddie had been, convinced that Jo was trying to cover up for Heller and put a spoke into Maddie’s romance with the banker at the same time. She’d refused to listen to Jo, turning her over to the sheriff for interrogation and investigation, convinced the sheriff would find the boy who’d done that awful deed.

“If I make a formal complaint, you have to investigate,” she said. “Maybe I don’t want to tip my hand just yet.”

“I can be discreet, you know. I’ll make some quiet inquiries—if there’s anything to go on,” Sam offered reluctantly. “What can you tell me about the event?”

“I can tell you about every horrible moment.”

“Come to the office later and give a statement.”

“And you’ll investigate?”

“I’m making no guarantees. Allen McLennon is the president of the town’s bank. I’ve known him for the two years I’ve lived in Maraville. He’s never had a breath of scandal attached to his name.”

“In other words, screw off, Jo,” she said bitterly.

“I’m a firm proponent of the truth,” Sam said. “But not in revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“You’ve talked to Eliza and April. You must know McLennon tried to foreclose on the house when Maddie was first in the hospital. They were angry as hell about it. Leads to all sorts of speculation, you know?”

“And you think I’m making this up now to get back at him?” Jo was incredulous. She hadn’t known about the attempted foreclosure.

“I said I’d look into it. You stay away from the case and the man you’re accusing.”

“I don’t report to you,” she said.

Jo stood and fished out a couple of dollars, tossing them on the table. Maybe there was some investigative work she could do.