The Farmer's Slaughter (Book 1) (A Harley and Davidson Mystery) Page 8

  “Anything for you, brother. Sorry our schedules keep conflicting. I’ve been wanting to get together the last couple of weeks. Now that you’re living here, there’s no excuse not to. Man, we used to have some good times.”

  Hank smiled, but it was forced. He felt sick to his stomach.

  “How’s retired life?”

  “It’s different,” Hank said, sitting across from Coil’s desk.

  Coil laughed. “That’s what I hear. Word on the street is you and Agatha Harley have been spending some time together.”

  “Word on the street?” Hank asked amused.

  “Small streets,” Coil said, grinning. “Word travels fast.”

  Coil was a modern-day cowboy. He was Hollywood handsome in a rugged way. His boots were scuffed and his jeans faded. He wore a short-sleeve plaid button up shirt that looked like it’d been designed for him. His favorite weathered Stetson balanced on a short file cabinet. In the weeks Hank had been living in Bell County he’d learned one important thing. The people loved Reggie Coil.

  “You glad you came?” Coil asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hank answered honestly. “I’m not sure why I’m here. Other than I had no place else to go.”

  “We go back a long ways. I don’t know how many years it’s been since we first met at the FBI Academy, but I’m glad we got stuck as roommates.”

  “Me too. I’m no good at retirement,” he confessed.

  “That’s an understatement. I heard from a bus full of senior citizens that you were out watering roses in nothing but your pistol.”

  “I had on socks too,” he said deadpan. “I’m going crazy in small town. It’s so boring. How do you stand it?”

  “It’s what you make of it,” Coil said. It’s a safe town. There’s not two or three murders a day, and you’re not getting shot at. And when that’s not your norm you think life’s boring.”

  “The risk is what makes me feel alive.” Hank sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.

  “Ahh, I see. You feel vulnerable here.”

  Hank thought it over for a second. “Maybe. I’m out here alone. You’re the only person I know. And I’m well aware of the fact that I’m known by certain individuals in certain circles. And I know that my past could come back to haunt me. I’m used to having a team at my back.”

  “It’s an adjustment period,” Coil said. “Give it some time. I know from experience. I thought I’d go nuts after leaving Austin for here. But I discovered there’s all kinds of thrills in small towns. You gotta know where to look.”

  “Maybe so. I think I’m feeling a bit too exposed. Like no one has my back. You know?” The tension in his muscles increased the longer he waited. He knew he needed to get to the point.

  Coil dug into the back pocket of his tattered blue jeans and pulled out a Sheriff’s badge.

  “You want to talk about not having back up, Hank? I got three other hired guns working with me. Good deputies, yet we got nothing but land and lakes with no one to watch our six but the good Lord.”

  “I get your point, Coil.”

  “Somehow, Hank, I’m feeling responsible for your moving out here, and since you’re here I haven’t had time to hang out. That’s my fault and I apologize. I could’ve made the transition easier for you.”

  “I made the decision to come here and then made it permanent by buying a house. Don’t worry, I still think you’re a good friend although you never helped me unpack.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Coil said, laughing. “But let’s get together for dinner at least once a week. And I’m always up for a beer or two on the weekends.”

  “That’s a deal.”

  “And if you get too bored, you could always go back on the job. I could put in a good word for you at Austin PD. It’d be a short commute for you.”

  “You know the truth. I can never go back.”

  “I know. I suppose that’s what’s got you feeling so isolated. It’s not that you can’t stay here. It’s that you can’t go back there.”

  “There comes a time when you have to decide if you need to save everyone else, or save yourself.”

  “No one knows the horrible stuff we see, so never feel like you owe anyone an apology for walking away. Losing your mind or putting a bullet into it wasn’t the answer. Sometimes the brave thing is walking away.”

  Hank nodded. He knew it was the truth, and there could be no regrets now that the decision had been made. “Sometimes I wonder if I pushed too hard. Drug my mind into wars that my soul wasn’t prepared to fight.”

  Coil tucked his overly long hair back behind his ears. His smile was easy.

  “You can’t ask yourself those questions, Hank. They’ll send you over the edge. After the nightmare I lived in the Austin drug task force, I never thought I’d return to law enforcement, much less a normal life. It was by God’s grace that I recovered from that gun battle, but not without a struggle. One thing I learned was to never ask myself if I pushed too hard. War isn’t for the weak. Whether it’s fought on land or in the mind, it’s going to take its toll.”

  “You’re right,” Hank said. “Man, I sure wish I had that beer right now.”

  “I figured you’d eventually get to the reason you’re paying me a visit tonight.”

  “I’ve agreed to help Agatha Harley with the Nicole Green cold case.”

  Coil propped his boots on the edge of the desk.

  “What have you gotten yourself into, Hank?”

  “Should I tell her I can’t help her?” Hank asked, wondering if his friend would steer him away from the case. His answer would tell him everything he needed to know.

  “No, of course not. If anyone can solve that case, you can. And I’ve never once heard anyone say anything bad about Agatha. She’s weird, but everyone likes her. In fact, the only bad thing I can say about her is she has questionable taste in friends. That Heather is a real nut job.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Hank said, chuckling. “Can you do me a favor as long as I’m here?”

  “If it’s legal,” Coil said, grinning.

  “Agatha accidently shredded Lieutenant Earls’ case report. Do you think I could grab a fresh copy?”

  “Sure thing,” Coil said.

  Hank was instantly relieved. Whatever was going on, Coil hadn’t been part of it.

  “On second thought,” Coil said. “Would you mind if I have my secretary print you a copy in the morning?”

  A knot twisted in Hank’s gut, but he kept his tone even. “I should’ve just waited and come in the daytime to ask her, but I know how busy she is. I thought I’d save her the trouble. Plus, I’m anxious to look at something besides the news.”

  Coil stood in front of the locked file room, as if he were blocking the entrance, and then he sighed. “You’re right. I was just being lazy. She’s got more than enough work to do. Let me grab it for you in here.”

  When Coil turned his back, Hank grabbed onto the edge of the desk to steady himself. His knees had turned to jelly at the thought of a possible faceoff with his friend.

  A moment later, Coil came back with the original case file and tried to hand it to him. Hank raised his hands in surrender.

  “Whoa, no way, buddy,” he said. “This is the original. I’m not walking out with it. I’ll take a copy, but not this.”

  “Have it your way, but you’ll have to wait. I have no idea what the code for the copier is. I haven’t made a copy in years. Please take the original. I insist.”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” Hank said, taking the file.

  “I know you will. I trust you with my life, brother.”

  Hank quickly thumbed through the file to make sure Lieutenant Earls’ report was included. It was, and so were the numbers at the bottom of every page.

  “Please don’t let Agatha get this anywhere near her shredder.” Coil kidded.

  “As long as you don’t let your secretary know I have the original. I hear she’s a stickler for the rules.”

&
nbsp; “It’s a deal,” he said, and they shook on it.

  Chapter Twelve

  There was something about routine that Hank appreciated. He started every morning the same way. On this Friday, he grabbed a banana and an Ensure and then took them out to the wrought-iron bench in his backyard to enjoy the quiet and the sunrise.

  He enjoyed his backyard. The canopy of trees and the chirping of birds. A wind chime tinkled softly from his back porch. This was what retired people were supposed to do. They were supposed to drink their Ensure and watch the grass grow. He wasn’t particularly good at relaxing, but he’d trained himself to relax in this place.

  It was too early to call Agatha. She usually didn’t start her run until seven, and that was at least another hour. Maybe if he sent her a text. He wanted to wait for her to compare the files.

  He texted her that he had the original case file in his possession, but he wasn’t expecting an immediate response. He should have known better.

  Agatha surprised him with a quick text response: Good morning, neighbor. You have the case file? I have coffee. Come over.

  He didn’t have to be told twice. He showered and shaved and thought about what Agatha had said about his attire, so he opted for a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt as a compromise. He didn’t own a pair of boots—though he figured he should get some at some point—so he put on a pair of loafers and concealed his weapon beneath his shirt.

  About thirty-minutes later, Hank was at Agatha’s door. She had it open before he could knock.

  “What took you so long? How’d you get the file? Did you break into the file room?”

  “Slow down, tiger. Nothing as exciting as that. Coil gave me the file. I told you he was a good man.”

  “But you had to make sure,” she said.

  He nodded. “But I had to make sure.”

  “Come in,” she said, tugging on his arm excitedly and closing the door behind him. “I can’t believe he let you have the original file.”

  She handed him a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it.

  “Thanks,” he said, surprised.

  “Don’t get used to it,” she said. “So now what do we do?

  “We scan it and get it back to him. Coil is sharp. Once he starts thinking about it he’s going to wonder if we’ve found something. Especially once we start asking questions about his office.”

  “I’ve got an automated scanner. It’ll take a while, but we still need to go talk to Rhonda Mitchell. It’ll be done by the time we get back.” Agatha straightened the pages and put them in the tray. “I already have the copied file uploaded into the database. Once this original is scanned the computer can analyze both reports and show us what’s different between them.”

  Hank wasn’t a fan of being a passenger, so he insisted on driving to Rhonda Mitchell’s house. She lived in Salado and it was a much farther drive. Agatha’s Jeep wasn’t exactly his style. She seemed like a Jeep person. A person who liked to have the windows down and her teeth rattled. He wasn’t that person. He liked comfort. And he liked the fact that his ears didn’t ring when he got out of his BMW X5.

  “This is nice,” she said. “Seems like you. Very safe.”

  His eyes narrowed. “When you say stuff like that I feel like you’re really calling me boring.”

  “No, of course not. You’re Hammerin’ Hank Davidson. What could be boring about you?”

  “I’ll have you know that I’ve never had a boring day in my life. I’ve had criminals confess everything they know at the sight of me.”

  “That’s nice, Hank. Turn right up here.”

  Hank gritted his teeth and stepped down on the accelerator. He wasn’t boring and he wasn’t safe. He was just retired.

  Rhonda Mitchell lived about as far to the west of Salado as she could, without living beyond the town’s incorporated limits. Rhonda was reported to be living with her fourth husband on the property attached to her second husband’s home. She’d won it in the divorce settlement, and refused to move. Rhonda reminded Agatha a whole lot of Heather.

  Or maybe not.

  The double-wide trailer sat right at the top of a small hill. On the hill next to it was a mansion that had to belong to the second husband, so he got the pleasure of looking out of his window every day at Rhonda.

  From the file Agatha had read, there were more than a couple of daddies for her five children. The police had been called a dozen or so times for domestic reasons, but it wasn’t clear if the domestic problem was Rhonda, her husband, or one of her ex-husbands.

  Rhonda had gotten a pretty hefty settlement from the church when the youth pastor had been convicted, but it hadn’t lasted long.

  Gravel crunched beneath the BMW’s tires, and then it gave way to a different sound when he eased off the main road and onto the muddy path toward the trailer.

  Hank parked behind an orange Camaro, and they looked at each other uneasily as the sound of barking dogs came from somewhere. And then the dogs came into view.

  “Holy cow,” Agatha said. “That’s a lot of dogs. Do you remember Cujo?”

  “Yep. I’ve got just enough bullets to shoot them all.”

  “If you don’t miss.”

  “I never miss.”

  The door of the trailer opened and a woman came out, her bathrobe hanging off one shoulder and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She narrowed a gaze a Hank’s BMW and came toward them.

  “Y’all get,” she said, shooing the dogs. “Go on now, you worthless things.”

  Rhonda hadn’t aged well. She was twenty-four going on a hard fifty. She was carrying about thirty extra pounds around the middle, and years of smoking had lined her face with premature wrinkles. Her hair was spikey and bleached blonde from a bottle, but she was in serious need of a root touch up.

  “What y’all want?” she asked, coming right up to Hank’s window. “You from the church?”

  Hank lowered the window an inch. “We’d like to talk to you about the tragic loss of your first child’s father. I understand things have been difficult for you.”

  Hank spoke in a hushed tone so she’d have to lean in closer to the car. He also wanted her to shush the three dogs yapping at her heels.

  “Y’all shut up and get out of here,” Rhonda yelled at the dogs. They scattered and Hank relaxed.

  “Geez, I thought she was talking to us,” Agatha whispered.

  “You a reporter?” Rhonda asked. “I don’t want no part of being on TV. Not unless you’re paying me. A girl’s got to make a living. Why don’t y’all come on in and we’ll talk about it?”

  Hank looked at Agatha and could see she was anxious about running into the dogs again. He wasn’t so keen on running into them himself. But they opened the car doors and stepped out onto the soggy ground.

  “We’ll just talk outside if you don’t mind,” Agatha said, eyeing the trailer. “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”

  “Mmhmm,” Rhonda said. “I thought so. I know a pregnant woman when I see one. It’s the morning sickness.”

  “Ummm,” Agatha said.

  Hank stifled a laugh, and decided to step in before Agatha hurt Rhonda. “We’re not here about TV. We’re investigators working the case of your husband’s death.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “We wasn’t married. That goldarned lawman drug him off to the prison before he could make an honest woman out of me. Then he went and got himself shanked with a shiv. Good thing it didn’t disqualify me for a lawsuit settlement from the church. My baby needed that money.”

  “I can only imagine how hard it must’ve been for you,” Agatha said.

  Hank knew she was trying to play on the woman’s emotions, but she wasn’t doing such a great job of it. The look of disgust on Agatha’s face was noticeable. Fortunately, Rhonda didn’t notice because she’d been given the opening she needed to tell her story.

  “It sure was,” Rhonda said. “I don’t know how me and little bit survived. That man took everything from me.
I could’ve been somebody. But he was selfish and greedy, and he went and got himself caught with those other girls.”

  Rhonda looked down at her phone, ignoring them for a couple of minutes.

  “Are you waiting on a call, Rhonda?” Hank asked.

  “No, I’m playing Words With Friends, and it’s my turn.”

  “Sounds fun. I’m sure you have lots of friends,” Agatha said, taking the opening.

  “Yeah, people are naturally drawn to me. It’s how I’ve snagged four husbands. I should’ve stuck with number two. He was loaded. But I do miss my Jim. Nobody loved me like he did.”

  “I bet your friends were jealous of your relationship with the pastor,” Agatha said.

  Rhonda hmmphed and said, “Of course they were. They were jealous of anything one of us had that the other didn’t. We all secretly hated each other. But it was better to keep our enemies close, if you know what I’m saying.”

  “Sure do, girlfriend.” Agatha spurred her on.

  “My Jim was special. He had a gift to reach girls in need. Girls like me. But I was his special angel. That’s what he told me. I wasn’t supposed to worry about the other girls he was trying to heal because I was his true love.”

  Hank felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, and it just reinforced his belief that justice had been served to Jim in prison.

  “And then those men came and tried to take Jim away, and I tried my best to protect him. To tell them it was okay what he was doing. But those other girls had it in for him. Jim told me that the world of evil would come against our special love. He was right.”

  “I admire a woman who is willing to stand up and fight for her man,” Agatha said. “Even if that meant fighting friends who were supposed to have your back.”

  Agatha had connected with Rhonda immediately, so Hank stood back and let her handle it.

  “I’ve always said it was us against the world. I don’t care what the court says. It ain’t nobody’s business what we do when we’re naked.”

  Agatha swallowed and her eyes were as big as saucers. Rhonda really did belong on a reality show.

  “Do you mind if we sit in your nice yard chairs?” Agatha asked. “I need to ask you some real important questions.”