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This morning there was no message and I was disappointed, but I shouldn’t have been. What about all the months when I never said a word to her? The weight of my guilt was sometimes so heavy I couldn’t get out of bed. Today was one of those days.
From my bedroom at the end of the hall, I could hear Billy wielding a hatchet in the living room. He’d soon have the woodstove roaring and cranking out a dandy heat. Until then, it was too cold in this old house for either one of us to take a shower.
Max and Sarge came running into the bedroom covered in snow to see if I was out of bed. “You guys been outside already? Y’all are lucky to have Billy. If you were waiting on me, you’d still be standing at the fuckin door.”
Both their tails wagged as they waited for me to drag my ass out of bed.
I drank coffee and made breakfast while Billy plowed the lane so we could get out of our snow prison.
After breakfast, I trudged to the barn to take care of the big stallion I’d come to love, then it was time to leave for another hell day as the Harrison County sheriff.
Being sheriff in butt-creek and representing law and order was so far from being the real me, I felt like a fuckin actor in a B-movie.
Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.
On the way to the station, we dropped Billy’s truck off at Peterson’s Garage for service. Mine was next. One at a time.
The inside of the office was warmer than my ranch house and that was a damned shame. Molly was behind her desk looking all cheerful and ready to rock. Coffee was made and things seemed okay for the present moment.
“Anything on the stolen Tahoe?” I asked.
“Nothing yet, Travis. I checked.”
Billy and I have to talk to Milly Perkins. His squad is in for service at the corner. Kirby will call when it’s done.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“We shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“No hurry. There aren’t any new calls.”
“Hope we don’t get any today.” I winked at Molly.
Perkin’s Residence. Milk Run Road.
Just as described by both Ted Wallace and Molly, Milly Perkins lived in the middle of nowhere. Billy parked behind her car and we plowed through knee-deep snow to get to her door.
“Sheriff Frost, come in. Did you go and talk to Beverley about Garnet?”
“Is that Mister Booth’s daughter?”
“Yes. I feel so sad for her. She adored her father.”
“We did the notification yesterday, Milly. I want to clarify a couple of discrepancies in your statement.”
“Sit down. I just made a fresh pot of tea.”
“No tea for me, thanks.” I glanced at Billy and he was shaking his head. I took the recorder out of my coat pocket, set it on the table and turned it on. “Milly, I need you to tell me exactly what happened to Garnet. He did not get that far from home by walking in a blizzard, so tell me what really happened to him.”
“I didn’t tell you the whole truth because I figured you would blame me and say it was my fault that he died, but it wasn’t. It just looks that way.”
“It wasn’t your fault?”
“No. Garnet had dementia. Most of the time he was himself and a nice person, but without warning his brain could suddenly just go somewhere else and he wouldn’t listen to reason and he was impossible to get through to.”
“Okay. I’m not that familiar with the symptoms of dementia, but I’m sure Doctor Olson is.”
“We were coming back from the church bingo and Garnet started hollering at me to stop the car. He was yelling it was his car and he should be driving, not me. Things like that.”
