Indivisible. Part 8

"And an elbow in the ribs. You're lucky you didn't get your head kicked in."

Grumbling, Merv got to his feet.

Jonah handed him the citation. "Go home. Stay away from Caldwell."

Sue joined him, and they went over together to search Caldwell's house, shed, and pickup. Parked beside the deputy sheriff's vehicle, Jonah pulled on the black fitted gloves designed to protect him from getting stuck by a contaminated needle, the worst part of running their hands under cus.h.i.+ons and down gaps in upholstery.

"Where's the deputy?"

He followed Sue's gaze to the house. "The shed, I guess. We'll start there." Adrenaline overrode his issues with the structure. He would do his job.

The shed door was slightly ajar. The deputy must have entered before the warrant arrived, a technical violation, especially if the judge had refused. Unless he'd had cause. Jonah called out so the man would know they'd arrived.

No answer. Sue's worried brow reflected his own concern. Had there been a toxic trap? He motioned her to stand behind him, then eased the door open, watching for tripwire, sensor, or laser that might trigger or have already triggered something.

Deputy Stone lay in a heap, his gun a few inches from his hand, the b.l.o.o.d.y swelling beneath the graying hair at the base of his head indicative of a blow. Jonah looked up for something that might have been rigged to the door. Nothing. He stooped and felt the deputy's pulse.

The man moaned, rising painfully to consciousness.

Jonah helped him roll to his shoulder. "I'll call you an ambulance, Ray."

Ray Stone reached behind his head. "Just a b.u.mp."

"A nasty one."

"Was waiting by the house. Heard someone out here."

"Inside?" Jonah shot a look around the dim shed for potential hiding spots.

"Thought so. But he got me from behind."

"I'll get JT to have a look at you." The EMT with the fire department could better a.s.sess the deputy's condition. He made the call.

Sue came back to the doorway. "I've done a perimeter search. No one in the house or yard."

"Was the house open?"

She nodded. "Back door unlocked."

"Could use some air," Ray said.

Jonah helped him sit up. The deputy holstered his gun and got to his feet. Outside the door, he leaned against the shed.

"Do your search," he said. "But I'm not sure what you'll find."

Distracted by the fallen officer, he hadn't searched the back shelves or anything else. Now he stepped inside. Sue followed.

The first thing he noticed were the animal skins-rabbit, fox, and ... racc.o.o.n. The skins were stacked on two wooden picnic tables and included the heads. No indication they'd been sewn, together or otherwise.

"Nice," Sue murmured. "Think he shot enough bunnies?"

"Not a crime. But it does suggest a weapon."

"Hunting rifle." Sue unloaded and pa.s.sed it over.

His flashlight illuminated the shelf he'd seen through the damaged siding, a dim rectangle of light already showing what he did not want to see. The shelf was empty.

Byne's surprise appearance should have told him someone else was in the game. They might have been in the house when Jonah arrived the first time, or in close enough proximity to see the arrest go down. With the deputy out front, they could have gone out the back to the shed.

"That's where it was?" Sue's light ran over the empty shelf, drag markings in the dust but nothing else.

"Check it for residue."

He scanned the rest of the shed. He'd half expected to find a lab, but whoever had taken the inventory would not have had time to disa.s.semble the equipment and ingredients and rearrange the clutter. "I'll start in the house." The sooner he left the shed, the better. If he saw a three-legged stool and a shotgun, he'd show Sue a side of himself he hid like leprosy.

The house appeared tossed, but the piles of clothes and trash, empty bottles, and food containers heaped in corners could be how Tom lived. A ratty taxidermied boar stood beside the television. Cla.s.sy.

Jonah moved systematically through the disaster, searching the sofa and stuffed chairs for torn or loose bottom liners, mattress and box spring for slits. He searched the piles of clothes and the few in closets and drawers, checked in boxes and the file cabinet. He eyed the carpet for untacked edges and found a slack corner in the bedroom closet.

Tugging it up revealed a loose board under which a wad of cash had been secreted. By itself, that meant nothing, but he bagged it in hopes of more incriminating evidence-like the .40 caliber handgun shoved deeper into the gap. He removed the magazine, ejected the round in the chamber, and bagged it.

The smaller of the two fire trucks arrived as he moved to the kitchen. He looked out the window and saw Sue and Ray explaining the situation-Sue, how they'd found him unconscious, and Ray, how it was only a b.u.mp. Jonah checked the cabinet and refrigerator contents and found another wad of bills in a bag of frozen peas.

Either Caldwell distrusted banks or had need of ready cash. He found ammunition for the handgun in the flatware drawer beside the steak knives, along with a second handgun, same caliber. He checked and found it loaded like the first.

Sue joined him with a bagged cell phone and charger. "He kept this in the shed. Want me to run down the numbers in his log?"

He reached for the bag. "I'll do that. Anything else?"

"A Bunsen burner and bottle caps."

"So he's using."

"Or it's for clients to test the wares."

Jonah nodded. "Good thought. You're pretty sharp."

"Yeah." She polished her nails on her uniform. "Other than that, they cleaned up pretty well."

"Looks that way. I'm almost done in here. Let's flip for the bathroom."

She sent him a look. "You probably have a two-headed coin."

"In which case you only have to call heads."

She swallowed. "I'll do it."

Gutsy. "Actually"-he tossed her the set of keys from the counter-"you take the truck. I'll tackle the john."

"Sure?"

"Find me grounds to impound."

"If it's there, I'll find it."

He watched her go, then looked at the cell phone. He wondered for a moment if she might have already deleted a certain number. If not, the temptation could have struck when she logged the calls. Except for the potential incrimination of her husband, Sam, he'd have let her handle that task. He put the phone with the other items and hoped it would prove a nonissue.

Without the drugs, none of what they had would be incriminating. Whoever mopped up here knew what they were doing. It occurred to him that could be Sam. Who better than a law officer's spouse to know how to thwart a bust?

When they had gotten back to the station, he said, "You know Sam could get swept up in this."

Sue stared straight ahead. "Do what you have to."

She knew he would, but it mattered that she said it. He stopped her at the door. "If people come forward, there might be opportunities for immunity."

"Some people think squealing's worse than time."

"Some people do." He held her eyes until she looked away. "If you've got things here, I'll run Caldwell down."

He never sent a male prisoner alone with a female officer. Besides, this was. .h.i.tting her close to home. Inside, he fitted Tom Caldwell with a wide leather belt complete with metal ring through which he threaded the cuffs. Neither of them spoke on the way to the jail or when Jonah turned him over.

He had jailed more than a few of his schoolmates, though usually not for long. Even, sadly, some who'd been friends. Came with the job. Some understood that. He headed home beneath a wan moon, expecting to find his place empty, but the scent of smoke reached him as he approached the porch. "Still here?"

Jay pulled a long drag on his cigarette.

"Those things'll kill you." Jonah mounted the steps.

"I only smoke on Sundays."

Jonah pulled up a chair. He'd escaped the lure of tobacco, but his mistress called. He'd expected it to kick in, given the emotional stress of the day, and here it was. He could taste her in his mind. What he wouldn't give for a gla.s.s of sipping whiskey and a slow sad song.

He didn't envy Sam Donnelly. What he'd seen looked like meth, and that was no mistress but a dominatrix from the deepest pit.

He turned to Jay. "How do you feel about a new intervention?"

"Who?"

"Guy I know."

"Has he hit bottom?"

"I don't know."

"Let me know when there's nothing under him but the grave."

Seven.

Unity to be real must survive the severest strain without breaking.-MAHATMA GANDHI Tia looked up from her detailing as a couple of shoppers peered in. She studied the faces, framed by their palms. She and her wares might be the inner structure of a snow globe they studied. She read their expressions and posture, surmising where they were in life and how they felt about it.

To a practiced observer, there were common streams of experience, doubts, needs, and desires. It remained only to fill in the details. In that, her imagination proved more than adequate. They didn't come in. It was Friday of a slow week, and she hoped it didn't portend a downtrend. But a short while later, a shopper entered, tinkling the bell above the door.

Her mother had hung that bell, ever conscious of potential wrongdoers. Stella Manning gave no one the benefit of the doubt. Those who measured up received her laud. All others need not apply. Tia's infantile transgressions had landed her firmly in the latter camp. A mother would know, wouldn't she, if her child were simply bad?

The blond woman in burgundy scrubs moved awkwardly, not a limp so much as an uncoordinated gait that reminded Tia of the three-legged races on field day. Perhaps a prosthetic limb.

Tia moved toward her, smiling. "Can I help you?"

"Um, I don't know. What's the needle for?"

Tia looked at the syringe in her hand and laughed. "Oh. Ornamentation. I was detailing these pillars." She motioned toward the one she'd set down.

"With a hypodermic?"

"It makes a very fine groove and releases the wax evenly." With the unorthodox tool, she as easily outlined pine needles and columbine as added abstract swirls and dots to coa.r.s.e or smoothly textured pillars.

"You make the candles?" The woman surveyed the store.

"And all the scent blends and oils. You're welcome to browse, or was there something ..."

"I'm looking for a gift. For my sister."

She thought of Reba's gifts with a pang. "Birthday?"

"She's not well."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Would she even know if Reba were unwell? Would any of them tell her? "What does she like? Scents, textures? Is she more visual?"

"Do you have anything with a lilac scent?"

"I have a blend that includes it." Tia led the woman to the shelf. "It's called Hope." She lifted the display dish of scented disks for her to smell. "Melted over a tea light, the wax liquefies and releases the aroma. I also have the scent in potpourri oil and these candles."

The ivory pillars were wrapped with a removable band that read: Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. (Isaiah 40:31) Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. (Isaiah 40:31) The woman sniffed the scent, eyes closed. "I think I can detect the lilac."

"I'm sorry I don't have it by itself." She had developed the blends herself, preferring them over the potency of a single scent.

"No, this is nice. I like it." The woman looked up. "Why do you call it Hope?"

"It's part of a collection of scents that soothe or invigorate or calm. The corresponding message is a thought to consider."

"Interesting."

Tia read the name tag on her lapel. "Dr. Rainer. Do you work at the Emergency Care?"