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The call was on the police scanner in the living room a full minute before Bill got the notification on his handheld. Something about seeing Dan and Ed had felt off, and it had inspired him to flip the radio on.
When he heard the report of a domestic disturbance at Vivian’s address, he dumped the last of his beer in the sink, slapped himself in the face, and hunted around the mess for a clean change of clothes. He knew Riley and Buck were on duty, and they could handle just about anything. But if Temperance was the disturbance dispatch was talking about, they were going to need all the help they could get.
He couldn’t drive, and he hoped the run over the hill would sober him up. He left the gun in the safe since he was too cross-eyed to shoot, but grabbed the handheld radio so he could call for help if he needed it.
The sun was low when he hopped the fence that separated the yard from the forest. The woods had picked up the bite of evening chill, but it wouldn’t bother him once he started running. He found the trail he and Dan had cut connecting the properties when they were kids. The creeping forest covered parts of the disused path, but as long as he kept his eyes on his feet, he’d avoid the stray roots and loose rock.
What Bill hadn’t accounted for was the seasick misery of beer sloshing around his stomach while he ran. He held the ebbing nausea at bay until he picked his way across the ridge of the drop-off on the far side of his property. He looked over the precipice, pitched forward, and lost every drop of the day’s drink.
Once he’d heaved, hacked, and got himself upright again, he pushed on. His eyes watered and his sinuses burned, but he made it back to flat land and loped carefully across the field to Vivian’s place.
A lifetime of memories assaulted him with each step. The last time Bill had hiked this path was the week of his high school graduation when he’d helped Dan pack before heading off to college. Now Bill was a forty-something sheriff with a paunch belly and a crazed wife who seemed hellbent on ruining his life.
A crack of gunfire shattered his thoughts. The single shot stilled his heart, paused his stride, and flooded him with a million different kinds of dread. The sound echoed through the valley, leaving dead silence in its wake.
Bill ran. As he approached, a car threw gravel across Vivian’s yard and tore up the driveway, disappearing onto the road. Bill crossed the lawn filled with empty picnic tables and a half-dozen brightly colored buckets of sudsy water. The scrambled mess of cars parked along the driveway spoke to a busy family gathering, though the morose silence made him wonder what had happened.
He climbed the front steps and lifted his hand to knock on the door when it opened suddenly. Ed was red-faced and fuming. “What the hell are you doing here? We told dispatch to send somebody else.”
“I heard on the scanner. Bill and Riley are on their way.” Bill peeked in the house. It held wild, panicked faces. Several Kids with ruddy cheeks and tears streaming down their faces were huddled against their frantic parents. “I heard a gunshot. Is anybody hurt?”
Ed clenched his jaw. “We’re fine.”
Ellie appeared beside him. She clutched her side. “Sheriff Morrow?” She searched the yard behind him. “We asked for someone else.”
“I heard.” Bill cleared his throat and tried not to dwell on it.
“It’s nothing personal––,” Ellie started.
“Except it is,” Dan cut in. He pushed his brother out of the way. “It’s very personal. Your wife shot at me and stole Ellie’s car.”
Well, that was unexpected.
“She did?” Bill did a quick scan of Dan’s body. There wasn’t any bleeding, and he seemed alert.
“She shot over his head,” Ellie answered. “To scare us.”
“If that’s what she was aiming for, it worked.” Vivian said from behind her sons. She glared at Bill with motherly disappointment that made his inner child curl into the fetal position. “Ellie’s guessing at why there’s a bullet hole in my wall. Either your wife wanted to frighten us, or she’s shit with a gun. Either way, how is it I didn’t know you got married? Did you lose my address when you were sending out invitations?”
Bill’s cheeks burned. “No ma’am. I didn’t exactly plan it. I didn’t even invite my mom.”
“William Haskins Morrow. You did not get married without your mother!” Vivian pushed her way through her boys and smacked him on the side of the head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, Billy.”
It wouldn’t matter how many years he was sheriff. To Vivian, he was still just Billy Morrow, the neighbor boy.
“You have no idea,” he muttered. He looked over her shoulder and found dozens of eyes staring back at him. It looked like Grandma Betsy had guilted every Walker in the state to come for their reunion. “So, you said something about a stolen car?”