Shelter for Sharla Page 11

  “We all will. Right, Lionel?” Sharla added.

  “Yes. I will.”

  Carter gave them an affirmative nod. “Good. Let’s go.”

  He hung back appropriately inside while the three of them were led into the small chapel by the funeral director. The sounds of Chelsea and Sharla crying were heart-piercing to him, and he listened carefully for Lionel’s grief, but he heard nothing from the boy. They’d been in the chapel for about fifteen minutes when he heard footsteps and saw Lionel come pounding through the doors. “Lionel! Wait up!” The boy glanced back at him and rounded a corner, so Carter picked up the pace to catch up.

  He caught Lionel just as the young man reached the back door. “Leave me alone!” he barked back.

  “Lionel! Wait! Let’s talk, okay?” They both stopped just outside the door, Lionel’s back still turned to Carter. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s gotta be. Losing somebody is never easy. But Chelsea and Sharla need you, and you need them. Please go back inside with them. It’ll be easier on everybody if the three of you stick together.”

  “I can’t go back in there!” Lionel screamed. “I can’t do it! If I do, I’ll, I’ll …” That was the tipping point, and Carter couldn’t miss the silent sob that shook Lionel’s shoulders.

  He didn’t reach to touch the younger man, just stood there nearby. “It’s okay to cry, son. When my dad died, I cried for days―I mean, days―and I didn’t think I’d ever stop.”

  “Yeah, well, how old were you? Eight?”

  “Nope. Thirty-two. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so my dad and I were really close―my mom and I are too. I miss him every day.”

  “I never even knew my dad,” the boy said, his head bowed.

  “I know. But that’s okay. You knew Tamara. You, Tamara, and Chelsea―you were sisters and brother. You’ve still got Chelsea, and she needs you, Lionel. Sharla does too. She’s the closest thing to a mother you’ve got, and from what I can tell, a damn good one too.”

  “She is. She loves me and Tam. I knew that from the very start.”

  “Then go back in and cry with them. It’ll be good for all of you to share that. Hell, sometimes I go to my mom’s and we start talking about Dad and we both start crying. And it’s okay. There’s no shame in it, and there’s no weakness there. Everybody has emotions, son. It’s okay to let them out, especially with people who love you and feel the same way you do.”

  Lionel stood there for a full minute, not moving, and Carter wasn’t sure if he’d gotten through to the kid or not. Finally, he turned, his face slick with tears. “Thank you, Sheriff Melton. Thanks for doing this for us.”

  “You’re welcome, and call me Carter. That’s my name, and I don’t mind a bit. And if you need somebody to talk to, Lionel, a guy for, you know, guy stuff, my door is always open to you. Anytime. Not kidding. Always.”

  “Thanks.” Lionel stood motionless for a few seconds before he said, “Guess I’d better get back in there.” Carter held the door for him and waited until he entered, then followed him silently back to the door of the chapel.

  There was still no one except Sharla and Chelsea inside when Lionel returned, and Carter realized they really were alone. They had no other family, just the three of them. When Lionel rejoined them, Sharla turned and motioned for Carter to come to her.

  “You okay?” he asked as he neared her.

  “Yeah. I thought maybe you’d want to come see her.” Carter balked, but Sharla took his hand. “It’s okay, Carter, really. I think she’d want you to be here just like we do.” He still didn’t want to step up to the casket, but he let Sharla lead him.

  He’d seen her in the morgue, but there she’d just seemed like an object, something that someone was poking and prodding, something that was providing information for them. But there in the casket, dressed in a pale pink dress, hair and makeup done, she looked like a sleeping princess, her full lips blush pink and her hands resting lightly on her stomach. A pain shot through his chest as he took in her youth, cut short so unfairly, and he found his eyes starting to go blurry. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

  “She does. She really does.” Carter stood there, overwhelmed with emotion, and finally stammered out, “Sharla, if there’d been any other way, if we’d had any other option, I promise you, we didn’t want to―”

  She pressed a slim finger to his lips to quiet him. “Shhhhh. We know that. You were doing what you had to do to survive. I don’t know if she would’ve shot another one of you, but she’d already shot one, and you couldn’t take that risk. Nobody blames you. Nobody. But I know you saw her out there in the weeds and stuff that night, in the dark, and in the morgue, and I wanted you to get a chance to see what a beautiful young woman she was.”

  “She really was,” Carter said, still trying to rein in his feelings. God, what a shame! What a total and complete waste. I’m gonna get the bastards who caused all this, he promised himself in that moment. They’re gonna pay―I swear, they’re gonna pay. Hushed voices sounded from the back of the chapel and Carter turned to see Sam standing there with a woman who had to be Dahlia, his wife, and a tall, dark-haired man. “I need to go and speak with them. Will you be okay?”

  “Sure. Go. Somebody you know?”

  “Yeah. Reinforcements.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’d love to kiss you and give you a big hug right now, and I can’t, but I want you to know I would if I could.”

  “Same here,” she whispered back. “And thanks again for being here and for talking to Lionel, because I know you did.” A tiny smile turned the corners of her lips up, and he gave her a little fake salute before heading to the back.

  “Hey, Carter, how’s it going?” Sam said, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

  “About as well as can be expected.”

  “Dahlia, this is the guy I was telling you about,” Sam said with a grin.

  “Good to meet you, Carter! Sam thinks a lot of you.”

  “That’s good to know, I suppose! At least he’s not calling me a son of a bitch behind my back!” Carter gave a little chuckle.

  Sam turned to the other man. “Cruz, this is Carter Melton, sheriff of Trigg County. Carter, this is Cruz Livingston, FBI agent out of San Antonio, Texas.”

  “Great to meet you,” Carter said, taking the man’s hand.

  Cruz’s grip was strong and Carter noted his easy-going way of moving. “Great to meet you too. I hope this can be mutually beneficial.”

  “Let me take you up to meet the family. Come on.” Carter headed up the aisle and straight to Sharla. “Ms. Barker, I’d like you to meet Detective Sam Curry of the Calloway County Sheriff’s Department, and his wife, Dahlia.”

  Dahlia’s voice was soft and soothing. “We’re so sorry for your loss, Ms. Barker.”

  “Thank you. Were you there, Detective Curry?”

  “I wasn’t. But I know most of the men who were, and they’re all grieving right along with your family, ma’am.”

  Sharla gave them what Carter thought of as a very brave smile, considering the circumstances. “Thank you.”

  “And this,” Carter said, turning a bit toward Cruz, “is Agent Cruz Livingston of the FBI. Agent Livingston has come to give us some assistance in the case.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am, although I wish it were under different circumstances,” Cruz said and took Sharla’s hand.

  “Thank you so much. But FBI?” Sharla gave them a quizzical look. “Is that really necessary?”

  “It might be, ma’am, and I figured if I could assist, I would. But I’m very sorry for your loss, and I hope I can offer Sheriff Melton, Detective Curry, and the other fine members of the law enforcement community here with some assistance in figuring out what really happened that night.” As he spoke, Carter listened. He liked this guy. Cruz was compassionate and genuine, and his demeanor would put anyone at ease. We’re going to work well together, Carter thought. “I believe I’ll just go out front for a little while before the ser
vice.”

  “I’ll join you,” Carter said, then gave Sharla a little nod before he followed Cruz down the aisle.

  As soon as they cleared the front door, Cruz turned to Carter. “Something going on between the two of you?” Carter didn’t know what to say. “Look, I can tell. I don’t think anybody else can, but I can. I need everybody to be honest with me if this is going to work.”

  “Then yes. Something is going on between us. Something …”

  “Romantic?” Carter nodded. “That’s fine. She’s a lovely woman and I can see how you’d be attracted to her. And I really don’t think involvement with her is going to jeopardize this investigation, although if I were you, I’d keep it on the down low until this is over.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Carter assured him.

  “Good. What’s going on today?”

  “Funeral. Burial. And I gave them a talking-to in the car, told them if they saw anything, anything at all, that gave them a feeling something was off, they should tell me. They understand.”

  “How much do they know?”

  “They know there were drugs involved, but no particulars. They’re the ones who told me about La Tana del Lupo, but they have no idea we know who or what that is. And the kids don’t know about Sharla and me, but they will next week. We want to be honest with them, but careful at the same time.”

  “That’s wise. Do you have more officers coming?”

  “Yeah. This isn’t my county, of course, but the sheriff here is a friend of mine and he’s promised me some assistance in the way of eyes and boots on the ground.”

  Cruz nodded in understanding. “That’s good. Very good. There’s a real possibility that some over-zealous members of the public are going to show up. I’m probably going to be the only law enforcement in attendance who’s not in identifying clothing of some kind, so I’m going to be available if needed. I’ll just sit to the side in the rear and keep an eye out.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Listen, Cruz, thank you―thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” Carter meant that. Just having Cruz there made him feel as if they had a chance at this thing, at bringing someone to justice over what happened with Tamara.

  “I love a good mystery, and I’ve been wanting to see these guys taken down for a few years now. I’ve busted up drug-dealing motorcycle clubs and I don’t mind going after these scumbags at all. Thanks for letting me come.” The more Cruz talked, the more excited Carter got. They were really going to do this! Then Cruz asked the question Carter had been dreading: “Does the rest of law enforcement around here know that I’m involved? State police? State bureau of investigations?”

  “No. Sam and I haven’t told anybody. Can I be completely honest here?” Cruz nodded. “They treat us, sheriffs’ departments and police departments, like red-headed stepchildren, like we’re just bubbas who have no idea what we’re doing, and we’re all tired of it. I went to a meeting with all of them and I had more information to share than any of them did.”

  Cruz’s brow furrowed. “Even though a trooper was killed?”

  “Yeah. That’s the shocking part. Anyway, I want these guys taken down. They’ve caused this family grief that was totally unnecessary and robbed the world of a special young person. Hell, maybe more than just her when we finally get down to it. I want them stopped cold.”

  “Then I’m gonna do whatever I can to help you,” Cruz said and clapped Carter’s shoulder with his big hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Meeting first thing in the morning?”

  “You know it. I’ll pick up coffee and donuts for everybody on the way, so you can pick out whatever you like best while we’re there.”

  “Spoken like a true cop!” Cruz said, laughing, and Carter laughed too. It felt good to have something to laugh about, even if it was just for a minute.

  Cars started to pull up, and Carter could only guess at their occupants. He and Cruz returned to the chapel, and he was pleased to see at least three deputies and two police officers from there in Hopkinsville. Good―they had backup if they needed it. As people came in, they signed the register and made their way up the aisle. They spoke to each other and the family in hushed tones, took Sharla and the kids’ hands, patted their shoulders. Some he was sure were members of churches around there, most of them older people, and a few he was almost certain were faculty from the university. That made him smile. It was nice they cared enough to come.

  One older man made his way over and when he reached Carter, he stopped and extended a hand. “Sheriff Melton?”

  “Yes, sir. How may I help you?”

  “My name is Professor Andrews. I was fortunate enough to have Miss Kent in my classes over the last three years. What an intelligent, promising young woman. Such a shame,” the old gent said, hanging his head and shaking it.

  “Yes, sir, it is. Very sad.”

  “I just spoke to Ms. Barker and she said to come to you. I think I may have some information you could use.”

  Carter perked up. A professor at the university? Yeah, he’d take any info the fellow might have. “Sir, thank you so much. I appreciate that. Could I give you a call and make a time to come and speak with you? I’ll come to your home, or to the school, or wherever―”

  “That would be fine. Perhaps we could meet halfway somewhere, if that would help.”

  “That would help greatly, sir. Thank you so much.”

  “Here.” The man reached into a jacket pocket and handed Carter a business card. “Call anytime. If a woman answers, that’s my wife. Tell her you’re my bookie. She loves to get her hands on my cell phone, and I love to mess with her, if you know what I mean.” Professor Andrews winked, and Carter liked the man immediately. Another piece of evidence! It was a terrible day, but good things were happening.

  “I’ll do that, sir! Thank you so much. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Well, good day, young man. Pleasure meeting you.” With that, the professor made his way to a pew and sat down beside a very attractive older lady. Carter glanced down at the business card: Professor Aloysius T. Andrews, Ph.D. Underneath that was Chair, Biological Sciences Department. Carter thought about college. God, he’d hated biology! He pocketed the card and looked around.

  The chapel wasn’t halfway full, but there was a good turnout for a Wednesday in the middle of the day. Movement caught his eye, and he watched one of the officers from the Hopkinsville Police Department take a woman by the arm and escort her out. It took him two seconds flat to get to the foyer, and the woman was arguing with the officer. “But I have a right to―”

  “No, ma’am. This is a private service and you have no right to be here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Carter stopped short of them. “What’s going on here?”

  The woman wheeled on him and almost snarled. “I’m a reporter for the Christian County Gazette, and I wanted to interview the family but―”

  “Absolutely not. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” Carter announced.

  She glared at his badge and then sneered. “And you have no jurisdiction here.”

  “I do, according to the sheriff of this county, who gave me jurisdiction this morning. You―leave. Now. Don’t make me tell you a second time or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “This isn’t a private gathering! It’s open to the public!” the woman crowed.

  A presence filled the little space around them and Carter was shocked when he heard that deep voice ask, “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m a member of the press and I―”

  “Ma’am,” Cruz said and pulled his credentials from his wallet, “I’m an agent with the FBI. There is an ongoing investigation into the circumstances surrounding the death of Miss Kent, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave or I’ll be forced to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  “You wouldn’t!” the young woman shouted.

  “Please, ma’am, don
’t tell me what I will or won’t do. The funeral will be over by the time your newspaper editor bails you out anyway. If I were you, I’d go right now before one of these fine officers loses his patience and puts you in cuffs.”

  “You can’t do this!” she barked.

  “Show a little decency, common courtesy, and respect, and get out of here,” Carter snapped. It was about the most unprofessional thing he’d ever said and he didn’t care one bit. All he really had on his mind at the moment was snapping the woman in half.

  “I plan to report all of this!” she yelled as she slipped into her car.

  “You go right ahead,” Carter called back. He watched as she pulled out of the parking space, tires squealing, and that was when he heard it―a chuckle. He turned to find Cruz fighting laughter. “What? She’s a bitch if there ever was one.”

  “You. Boy, you’re like a rabid dog when it comes to protecting people! I like it, Carter, I really do. You and I are going to get along just fine,” Cruz said, still grinning. “Come on. We need to get back inside.”

  “You couldn’t really charge her with that, could you?” Carter asked with a smirk.

  Cruz wore the best wise-ass face Carter had ever seen. “No, but she doesn’t know that.”

  They all took their posts again and waited. The service was very nice. One of the members of the faculty at the university conveyed the condolences of the entire campus. Lionel read a poem he and Tamara had written together when they were just children. A local minister stood and talked about forgiveness, about how it benefitted the person giving it as much as the person receiving it. As they spoke, one of the funeral home employees came by and whispered to Carter that the other law enforcement officers there were going to run traffic interference for the funeral procession, and that the family had requested he drive them to the cemetery. That suited him just fine, and he gave the man the keys to his cruiser so it could be moved up into the funeral procession.

  He met them at the back door and helped all three of them into the car, then followed the hearse to the cemetery, taking that time to remind them once again to report anything they saw that caught their eye as being off in any way. Once there, he and Sam escorted the family to the chairs under the tent, then took up spots around the perimeter, along with the other officers who’d been at the funeral home. He was glad to see Cruz wander up and take up a position opposite his own.