Field of Danger. Ramona Richards
the stairs and headed toward the backyard. “The cops can’t protect you. Before this day is out, you’re both dead!”
TWO
Daniel skidded the car into the familiar driveway, then turned down the field road that ran along the edge of the corn, toward the police lights he could see flashing up ahead. A cluster of emergency vehicles circled the crime scene, and he stopped the cruiser near the sheriff’s car. He got out, still denying the growing dread in his heart.
When Daniel saw the strained horror in Sheriff Ray Taylor’s face, however, he knew there had been no mistake. Then he spotted the blue tarp over the body on the ground, and plunged toward it with a gasp of pain. It took Ray and two other deputies to stop him, and he shoved back hard, his shoes digging into the dirt and scuffing backward as he pushed. “Let me see him!”
Ray blocked his way. “Daniel! Listen! I’m not going to keep you from seeing him, but you have to listen first. Look at me!”
Daniel stopped pushing against the older man, but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the blue tarp until Ray repeated the command with all the power of his Marine training. “Rivers, look at me!”
Daniel did, and Ray’s voice softened. “Your father took a shotgun blast to the chest at close range. Probably 12-gauge, from the look of it. It’s not something you really want to see, and I don’t care what you saw on the streets of Nashville. This is your father.”
Daniel felt like a block of ice, numb and distant. “I have to see him.”
Ray nodded. “We’ve cleared a spot so the coroner can get to him without messing up any evidence. There are footprints we still have to cast. I’ll take you.”
With Ray’s hand on his shoulder as comfort and guide, Daniel stepped toward the tarp slowly, hard clumps of the plowed ground popping into dust as he trod on them. Everyone around him fell totally silent. Only Ray and Daniel approached the body, Ray bending to pull back the tarp, uncovering Levon’s face.
Daniel dropped to his knees next to his father, his eyes burning. Levon’s face, gray and speckled with brownish-red drops, seemed oddly peaceful. It had been a long time since Daniel had seen that kind of calm, that kind of peacefulness on his father’s face—not since his mother had died five years ago. In that instant, Daniel felt a strange sense of comfort, and he knew, without a doubt, that his father was with God—and his mother.
“Tell her I still love her.” The words came out in a choked rasp, then Daniel gave in to his own racking grief.
April wrapped her hands around a cold glass of tangy iced tea, twisting the glass round and round on the table, still not able to drink. Her hands still shook too hard to pick up the glass. From her position at the large oak table in Aunt Suke’s kitchen, she could hear the fading voices at the front of the house, but couldn’t make out what was being said. It was just as well; she didn’t really want to know. The sturdy table and solid chair beneath her felt unmovable, even though April’s world still spun around her.
She barely noticed when the young officer who had come in response to Aunt Suke’s second 911 call left, the front door closing firmly behind him. Just moments before he had sat here at this table, holding April’s hand and reassuring her that the sheriff’s team would find the killer. He’d taken a preliminary statement from her, and while he’d tried to be kind and tactful, he had confirmed what April already knew in her heart.
Levon was dead. He had not just been wounded or knocked out. The close-range shot had taken the life of her friend. More than a friend, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. Levon had been like family to April since she’d moved to Caralinda almost a year ago, eager to be away from city life and her crazed former in-laws down in Nashville. Just last week, he had repaired a broken window at her house—one of many things he’d helped her with over the past year.
More than a friend. Almost a father. Certainly better than her own father had been.
April closed her eyes and tears leaked down her cheeks. What now, Lord? What’s next? He wants to kill me. What do I do?
A mix of denial and anger settled over Daniel. His mind swirled with questions and wild speculations, even as his body felt remote, distant from him. He leaned against the fender of his cruiser, arms crossed, watching as his fellow officers hovered just outside the crime scene while the Bell County Coroner examined the body of Levon Rivers. Since Daniel was the victim’s son, Ray had banned him from the site and the investigation, but Ray couldn’t force him to leave, even though he had insisted that Daniel go home and start doing whatever it is you do to bury your father.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought “It’s not real. He’s not dead” hovered, trying to break through. He wanted to let it, to wake up from this nightmare occurring in the bright July sun. Wake up and see Levon standing there, laughing at them for their worry.
Instead the officers kept working. Scouring the ground for evidence—marking footprints, blood spatter, stray buckshot pellets. The blue tarp had been pulled away as the coroner worked, and now one of her assistants stood by with a black body bag. In his years as a cop, Daniel had seen a lot of body bags, but somehow the grief associated with them had never struck home. Not like this.
Lord, what am I going to do?
Behind him, the telltale crunch of tires on gravel warned him of another car’s arrival, and he turned slightly to see Deputy Jeff Gage get out of a cruiser and motion for Ray. Ray approached, one look at Daniel telling him to stay put. He and Gage met in the driveway several yards away from Daniel.
Gage, tall and lanky, moved with the grace of the long-distance runner he was. A gentle man who seemed barely tough enough to be a cop, Gage had a voice made for an unamplified stage. No matter how softly he spoke, his voice carried.
So Daniel had no trouble hearing Gage’s report to Ray about his visit to Suke Stockard’s.
“Talk to me,” Ray said.
Gage shook his head. “Not good. April is holed up at Aunt Suke’s but says she never saw the shooter’s face. His back was to her, then she ran. Can’t blame her for not looking back. The guy blew the back door off the cellar over there, put a couple of holes in the floor, looking for her and Aunt Suke. Claims he’ll kill them.”
Ray growled. “Probably to keep them quiet.”
“Looks like.”
“Does he know who she is?”
Gage nodded. “He called her by name.”
“You left them alone?”
Gage shook his head. “New guy in a car out front. Another at the back. Knew it would be the secondary crime scene. Should be enough to keep the guy away, at least until dark.”
Ray nodded. “Good. Get over to April’s house and make sure it’s secure. We’re about done here. When we are, I’ll get her to the station for a complete statement and we’ll take a look at that basement. Then we’ll decide what to do to keep her safe.”
The sheriff tapped Gage on the shoulder, and the lanky deputy started toward the crime scene. Ray hesitated, then came to Daniel. His face was stern, but his voice held the gentleness of a coach talking to an injured player. Ray Taylor was young for a sheriff, still in his thirties, but he was a widower as well as a former Marine officer, and wise beyond his years. “Rivers, go home. Call your family.”
Daniel shook his head. “I can’t. I need to be—”
“No. You can’t be a part of this, Rivers. You know that.”
“Ray—”
The sheriff’s voice dropped in tone again as he interrupted. “Daniel, listen to me. You cannot be here. You need to call your family, take care of arrangements. Let us do our jobs. This is a time for you to be his son, not a cop. You stick to the details, all the things that