Nicholas Sparks - A Bend in the Road

“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 thecrime.

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?

Charlie had to have a talk with him. Today, if possible. Tomorrow at the latest.

Back to the pad. He jotted the next name.

Earl Getlin. What was he going to say?

If he didn’t corroborate, end of subject. Let Otis out of jail and spend the next year convincing Miles that Otis was innocent-at least of this particular crime. But if he did corroborate, then what? With his record, he wasn’t exactly the most believable witness in the world. And he’d no doubt want something in return, which never played well to the jury.

Either way, Charlie had to talk to him right away.

Charlie moved Earl to the top of the list and jotted another name.

Otis Timson. Guilty or not?

If he’d killed Missy, Sims’s story made sense, but then what? Hold him while they investigated openly this time, looking for additional evidence? Let him go and do the same thing? No matter what, Harvey wouldn’t look too kindly on a case that relied solely on Sims Addison and Earl Getlin. But after two years, what could they hope to find?

He had to look into it, no doubt about it. As much as he didn’t think they’d find anything, he’d have to start the investigation again. For Miles. For himself.

Charlie shook his head.

Okay, assuming Sims was telling the truth and Earl backed him up-a big assumption, but possible-why would Otis have said it? The obvious answer was that he’d said it because he’d done it. If so, it was back to the problems of building a case again. But…

It took a moment for the thought to coalesce into the form of a question.

But what if Sims was telling the truth? And what if Otis was lying that night?

Is that possible?

Charlie closed his eyes, thinking.

If so, why?

For his reputation?Look what I did and got away with…

To scare Earl into getting the money?This will happen to you, unless… Or had he meant to say that he’d simply arranged it but hadn’t done the dirty work himself?

His thoughts circled and zigzagged from one extreme to the next as he considered them.

But how the hell would he have known she’d be out jogging that night?

This whole thing was a mess.

Getting nowhere, he set aside the pencil and rubbed his temples, knowing there was more to consider than the situation with just those three. What was he going to do about Miles?

His friend. His deputy.

Cutting a deal with Sims and losing the paperwork? Letting him go? Then charging out like this was the Wild West to bring Otis to justice without even bothering to talk to Earl Getlin?

Harvey wasn’t a bad guy, but he was going to have problems with this. Serious problems.

They all were.

Charlie sighed. “Hey, Madge?” he called out.

The secretary popped her head into the office. Plump and graying, she’d been around almost as long as he had and knew everything that went on in the department. He wondered if she’d been listening.

“Is Joe Hendricks still the warden up at Hailey?”

“I think it’s Tom Vernon, now.”

“That’s right,” Charlie said, nodding, remembering he’d read about it somewhere.

“Can you look up the number for me?”

“Sure. Let me get it. It’s in the Rolodex on my desk.”

She was back in less than a minute, and when Charlie took the slip, she stood for a moment, not liking the look in his eyes. She waited to see if he wanted to talk about it.

He didn’t.

It took almost ten minutes to get Tom Vernon on the phone.

“Earl Getlin? Yeah, he’s still here,” Vernon answered.

Charlie was doodling on the paper in front of him. “I need to talk to him.”

“Official business?”

“You could say that.”

“No problem from this end. When are you planning to come up?”

“Would it be possible this afternoon?”

“That fast, huh? Must be serious.”

“It is.”

“All right. I’ll send word down that you’re coming. What time do you think you’ll make it?”

Charlie checked his watch. A little after eleven. If he skipped lunch, he could be there by midafternoon.

“How about two o’clock?”

“You got it. I assume you’ll need someplace to talk to him alone.”

“If that’s possible.”