The Homecoming (39 page)

Instead, she merely shoved a cup into Kara’s hands and said gruffly, “Good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.” Kara glanced around the office, seeing it with new eyes. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t San Diego. Or Oceanside. Or even Salem. Maybe she did have only three deputies, two dispatchers, only two jail cells, and a broom closet that served as an evidence locker.

But this was
her
sheriff’s office.
Her
town. And although she’d originally thought of this as an interim job, filling in temporarily for her father while the town council found a replacement, there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.

The aroma wafting from her mug, which bore a scenic photo of Shelter Bay’s coastline, surpassed even Maude’s usual stellar efforts. She took a sip.

“I’m tasting wild blueberries.”

“Thought today called for something a little special,” Maude said. “I drove down and got it from that Big Mountain coffee place in Depoe Bay.”

“Well, it’s delicious. Thank you.”

“No problem. You’ve got a lot of messages piled up on your desk. Most are just people wishing you well. But there’s a call there you might want to return first. A woman who didn’t give her name, but she said it was really important that she talk to you. About a police matter.”

As she carried the coffee into her office and shut the door, Kara wondered if the call could possibly be about Danny’s shooting. “Maybe doing that TV interview wasn’t such a bad idea, after all,” she murmured as she sat down at her desk.

She’d just picked up the phone to call the number on the top of the stack of pink message slips Maude had left on her desk, when the dispatcher opened her door a crack.

“Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” she said. It was the first time Kara could remember the dispatcher ever calling her by her title. “But Daniel Sullivan’s here, and I didn’t think you’d want me to keep him waiting.”

“No, of course not—send him in.” Kara stood up and walked around her desk just as Danny entered. He was wearing a baseball cap to cover the bald patches her mother had shaved on his head, but she decided of the two of them, he looked in better shape.

“Well, don’t we make a pair?” He greeted her with a hug.

“We’ve both definitely had a couple rough days,” she agreed.

“You look a lot better than I thought you would, from Uncle John’s description of what happened.”

“It probably sounded worse than it actually was.”

“Yeah. I figured you’d say that.” He glanced over at the chair. “Could I sit down a minute? I’m doing a lot better, thanks to your mom, but I still get a little dizzy, and I’m not sure there’s room in here for me to fall down.”

She was not surprised that he hadn’t lost his natural good humor. Instead of sitting down behind her desk again, she took the chair next to his, turning it so they were looking at each other.

“You realize you scared us to death,” she said.

“Yeah. Which is the pits, because it’s kind of hard to impress a woman when you’re unconscious.”

Please
, she prayed to whatever gods or fates might be listening,
don’t let him have come here to ask me out again.

“Speaking of which,” he said, “although a lot of what happened during Douchett’s welcome- home celebration is sort of a blur, I do seem to recall asking you to dinner.”

“You did.” Kara’s mind was scrambling for some way to turn down someone who, only two days ago, had been in a coma.

“Well, here’s the deal.” He suddenly looked as uncomfortable as she felt. “I was wondering, since you didn’t seem all that wild about the suggestion in the first place, if you’d mind if we sort of dropped the idea.”

Relief flooded over her. “Not at all.”

“Good.” Again they seemed to be sharing the same feelings. “Because I met someone, and I think she might be the one.”

“You met someone?” Kara felt her jaw drop. “Danny, you were in a coma!”

“Not all the time. There was this ICU nurse who was taking care of me. Since there wasn’t much I could do except lie around and wait for more tests, she’d come in and talk to me whenever Uncle John wasn’t there. In fact, hers was the first face I saw when I came out of the coma.” His Donny Osmond grin had his eyes crinkling appealingly. “First I thought I’d died and she was an angel.”

“Well, that’s romantic.”

“Yeah. She thought I was making it up when I told her. But I convinced her I meant it. Anyway, like I said, we clicked. Her parents are both teachers, so we have that in common. And she’s got a two-year-old daughter from a marriage that went south. I always wanted kids, but it turned out my ex didn’t.”

“Sounds like a package deal,” Kara said, wondering if someone had put something in Shelter Bay’s drinking water. First her mother and John. Then her and Sax. And now Danny and some nurse he’d just met.

“I was thinking the same thing. Sara—that’s her name—has some vacation time saved up, and since school’s just about out, I’m not going back to the classroom until the fall. So we decided she and her little girl, Grace, could come spend a couple weeks here in Shelter Bay at Whale Song.” It was a local B and B that, like Sax’s house, had a stunning view of the sea and the resident whale pod. “And I can spend some time visiting them in Portland. See how things work out.”

“I think that’s lovely.”

“Yeah.” When he grinned again, Kara thought how fortunate it was that her mother had been there to possibly save his life. A life that just might include the wife and child John had told him Danny was now ready for. “Who would’ve thought getting a bullet in the head would’ve turned out to be a good thing?”

“It’s a little dramatic,” she said. “But whatever works.”

“I saw the interview you did. The Portland station picked it up.”

“I’m hoping it’ll help find whoever shot you,” she said.

His brow furrowed. “You still think it’s an accident, though, right?”

“That’s my take on it.” Because she couldn’t imagine anyone in town wanting to harm this genuinely sweet man. It’d be like shooting Bambi. “But I promise to keep you up-to-date on developments.”

“Great. I’d appreciate that.”

She walked him out and, just as he was about to leave, he said, “I know a lot of people thought Douchett was wild back in high school. But he’s one of the good guys.”

“I know.”

“Yeah. I figured you did. But just in case he needs a reference, there was this time, back when we were fresh-men, that this bully upperclassman decided I’d make a good punching bag.

“Sax didn’t know me that well, but he came across the guy pounding the stuffing out of me in the locker room after soccer practice.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think?” Danny winked. “Sax cleaned his clock. And the bully never bothered me again. Like I said, he’s a good guy. And, not to sound like a high school yearbook comment, but I think the two of you make a real neat couple.”

Kara was still laughing about that when she went back to work, dialing the number of the woman whose call Maude had suggested she return first.

When her call went into voice mail, earning her a cheery announcement that she’d reached the Fletchers, who’d get back to her as soon as possible, so please leave a message at the beep, Kara skimmed through the messages, finding that as usual, Maude was right about the others all being calls of condolence. Except for the automated one from the cable company, wondering if she’d like to change her phone service.

She was about to run a check and see if Celia Vernon’s mother was still living at the address in the police report, when Maude opened the door again.

“You’ve got a lawyer, a weeping woman, and a guy who looks like death warmed over out there,” she announced. “I’m hoping you’ll take them off my hands.”

“Absolutely.”

The lawyer had Kara staying behind her desk this time. But she did stand up as the trio entered.

“Sheriff.” The silver- haired man held out his hand. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and hiking boots. And carrying a well-used briefcase. “James Bradford, attorney-at-law with Bradford and Yongst down in Newport. I’m sorry to show up so casually, but I received the call from my clients while hiking up to Rainbow Falls and didn’t want to take the time to change.”

“Sounds important,” Kara said as she shook the attorney’s proffered hand.

She turned toward the couple, who were hanging on to each other as if they expected the ground to come out from beneath their feet at any moment. “And your clients would be?”

“Harlan Fletcher,” the younger man choked out. “And this is my wife.”

“Janice,” she managed as she pulled a tissue from her purse.

Kara sat down again. “Well, Mr. Bradford, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. What can I do for you?”

“It’s more what we can do for you, Sheriff,” Bradford said. “My client, Mr. Fletcher, may have information regarding your mystery shooting.”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Harlan burst out. “I was just fooling around, joining in the celebration for the local hero.”

“Now, Harlan,” the attorney broke in. “Why don’t you let me explain—”

“It sounds as if your clients are capable of speaking for themselves,” Kara cut him off. “But first, Mr. Fletcher, I’m afraid I’m going to have to read you your rights.”

“Seen that on TV,” Harlan said. “Go right ahead, ma’am.”

Everyone, including James Bradford, attorney-at-law, remained silent while she Mirandized the husband, who agreed that he understood his rights as she’d read them.

“Okay.” Kara turned on the tape recorder. They’d had a video camera in Oceanside, but Shelter Bay’s budget didn’t provide for such extras. Not that one had ever been needed during her six-month tenure. Until today. “Now that we’ve dotted the legal Is and crossed our Ts, why don’t you continue telling me what happened?”

“We couldn’t get to the parade or the park ourselves,” Janice Fletcher said. She paused to blow her nose. Opened the purse again. “Because our little girl has the chicken pox and we didn’t dare leave her alone.”

“How old is your daughter?” Kara asked.

The couple looked a little surprised by the seemingly irrelevant question, but the wife answered anyway. “S-s-s-seven.”

“My son’s eight. What’s her name?”

“Harley.” She sniffled as she looked over at her husband. Clicked the purse closed. “Since she’s our fourth daughter—”

“And last baby,” Harlan said.

“Definitely the last,” his wife agreed. She clicked the purse open again. “We decided, since we weren’t going to have a son, to name her after her daddy. Since we couldn’t go with Harlan, Harley seemed close enough.”

“I had a friend in California named Harley. I always thought it was a great name.”

Having made the personal connection she’d learned could often be helpful in interrogations, Kara said, “So you were home when the fireworks went off?”

“We could see them from our rental house,” Janice said.
Click.
“We brought the kids out on the roof for a b-b-better view.” Tears began streaming down her face again. “We were having so much fun. I’d even made some popcorn.”

“Then I got carried away,” Harlan said.
Oh, hell.
Now he was crying, too. And Kara could see exactly what was coming. It was going to turn out to be what she and John had suspected all along. “And shot my twenty-two in the air when the fireworks went off. You know, to make some noise ourselves.”

“I’ve told you I don’t approve of guns in the house with children,” his wife said, showing a bit more spine than she had thus far.

“Man’s gotta protect his property,” he argued.

“Protecting property and shooting guns in front of your babies are not the same thing,” Janice shot back.
Click
.

“I’m going to have to agree with your wife on that one.” Kara weighed in on the domestic argument. “But that’s a matter you two will have to work out yourselves. Meanwhile, you said it was a twenty-two?”

“A Smith and Wesson American Pride,” he said. Despite the circumstances, he actually did show a little pride of ownership. Which caused Kara’s sympathy meter to drop several degrees.

“The bullet Mr. Sullivan was shot with was a twenty-two-caliber.” She repeated what she’d said during the telephone interview. “We’ll need your weapon, Mr. Fletcher, for testing.”

“I have it here,” the lawyer said. He opened the briefcase and put it on her desk. “Don’t worry. It’s not loaded.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Kara murmured, pushing it a bit aside with the eraser end of a pencil from the tin can pen-and-pencil holder covered with clothes-pins that Trey had made her for Mother’s Day.

“All right. Here’s what’s going to happen, Mr. Fletcher.” She folded her hands on the desktop, momentarily distracted by the absence of the ring she’d worn for so many years. “I’m going to be putting you under arrest for reckless endangerment. Which, as your attorney has undoubtedly explained to you both, is defined as wrongful, reckless, or wanton conduct likely to produce death or grievous bodily harm to another person.”

“It was an accident,” Harlan repeated doggedly. A little color had come back into his cheeks.

“I believe you. But while I don’t have a law degree, I can tell you that to be guilty of this crime, you needn’t have intentionally caused harm. You don’t even have to know whether your conduct is certain to cause that result. The ultimate question, as the courts have determined, and Mr. Bradford can attest, is whether your conduct was of a heedless nature that made it actually or imminently dangerous to the rights or safety of others.”

Unfortunately, she’d arrested enough people on this charge over the years that Kara had the definition down pat. “As yours did.”

Harlan Fletcher fell silent.

“Mr. Bradford said that what Harlan did could be a misdemeanor,” Janice Fletcher said hopefully.