Wayne sighed as Britt’s ex-boyfriend ran down the hall, bumping students left and right. “Ah shit.”
Emory gave pursuit, followed by his slower partner. Dan Claymon ran into several students – collisions that did little to slow him. The fleeing teenager then slammed the panic bar of a glass side door, which popped open to the outside. As soon as his feet stamped the snow-covered ground, his momentum diminished. Emory pounded the closing door a second later and hurled himself at Dan’s back, sending the teenager face-down into the snow.
“I didn’t do it, man! I didn’t do it!” yelled Dan, snow sputtering from his mouth.
“Then why’d you run?” Holding Dan’s wrists behind his back, Emory placed handcuffs on him and helped him up.
Catching up to them, Wayne bent forward and rested his palms on his knees to catch his breath. He pointed to the impact Dan’s body made in the snow. “Nice snow angel.”
Emory turned Dan around to face him, and the teenager told him, “Man, you’re fast.”
Emory couldn’t stop a little laugh from escaping. “You said you didn’t do it. What exactly didn’t you do?”
“Kill Britt,” Dan responded.
“If you didn’t do it, why did you run?” Wayne asked.
Dan shook his head. “People have been asking me if I did it. I thought one of them called the cops on me. I don’t know. I panicked. I don’t want to go to jail.”
Emory noticed the bruise around the teenager’s right eye. “How’d you get the shiner?”
Dan hesitated. “Someone was joking about Britt.”
“Emory?” Sheriff Rome trudged across the school grounds toward them. “What’s going on here?”
Emory responded with a question of his own. “What are you doing here?”
The sheriff pointed with his thumb. “I was next door getting gas, and one of the teachers called the station about a man chasing a student.”
Wayne scowled at the sheriff’s answer. “What? There were two men chasing him. They didn’t see me?”
Emory told his father, “This is Dan Claymon, Britt Algarotti’s ex-boyfriend. We wanted to question him, and he took off running.”
Sheriff Rome frowned at his son. “You couldn’t have waited until after school to question him instead of making a scene?” He nodded toward the glass door and the students watching from the other side. “Uncuff him.”
“But—” Emory began.
The sheriff turned Dan around so that his back faced Emory. “Take the cuffs off.”
Red-faced, Emory complied.
The sheriff placed a hand on the teenager’s back. “I’ll take him to the station and call his parents, and you can ask them if it’s okay to speak with him.” He told Dan, “Come on,” and he led him to his car.
Wayne looked at Emory. “We don’t need his parents’ permission to question him.”
“I know.”
“You know, you really need to tell him when he’s wrong about these things.”
Emory shrugged. “I can’t. He’s my father.”
Barter Ridge was the seat of one of Tennessee’s least populous counties, and the sheriff’s station reflected the necessary frugality of its residents. When Emory opened the front door to the double-wide trailer that served as the station, the corners of his mouth creaked upward for a millisecond. He found mild comfort in the changelessness of it all. He hadn’t been here since college, but it still looked and smelled the same – like old carpet, burnt coffee and gun oil.
Wayne followed him inside, and Emory nodded to one of the two wooden benches on either side of the front door. “Why don’t you wait here. I’ll just be a minute.” His partner complied without argument.
Emory walked past deputies talking on the phones at two of the four desks, and he gave a two-fingered salute to the one he knew. His eyes meandered around the deputy room – from the interrogation room to the hallway that led to the holding room, break room, bathroom and supply closet – before they came to rest on the glass door to his father’s office.
He could see that the office was empty, but he entered anyway. Affixed to one wall was a small, locked armory, but apart from that, the rest of the wall space was covered by framed pictures, certificates and newspaper articles. Next to the Tennessee Medal of Honor Wayne had mentioned seeing yesterday hung the full article about Emory and Wayne’s big drug bust from four months ago. Wayne failed to mention seeing this. Emory smiled at his father’s obvious pride in him.
“You can’t be in here.”
Startled by the voice, Emory saw that the deputy he had yet to meet was now off the phone and standing in the doorway with his right hand glued to the knob. Blonde with a farm-boy face, he had a thin but sturdy body, just under six-feet tall.
Emory read his gold name badge and gave him a courteous smile. “Deputy Harris, I’m looking for Sheriff Rome.”
“The sheriff is in the interrogation room and can’t be disturbed.”
Emory figured his father, as angry as he was, wanted to talk to Dan Claymon alone, so he didn’t bother asking to join him in the interrogation room. “Okay. I’ll just wait.”
“You need to wait out here.”
Emory stretched his lips into an awkward frown. He walked out of the office, and the deputy shut the door behind him. Joining Wayne on the bench, Emory watched the deputy return to his desk. “Dad will be with us in a few minutes.” His partner grunted before crossing his arms and closing his eyes.
Emory took the opportunity to flip through crime scene pictures on his cell phone. Before he reached the third picture, the front door opened, and Scot Trousdale entered with a five-gallon bottle of Algarotti water riding on his left shoulder. What’s he doing here?
When Scot noticed Emory, he pushed up his glasses and greeted him. “Agent Emory.”
“You make deliveries too?”
“No, but sometimes I’ll take care of the sheriff’s station myself so I can clean the cooler and make sure everything’s working properly – as a courtesy for our local law enforcement. It’s on my way home, so it’s not any trouble.”
Scot pulled his phone out of his pocket and read something on it. Since Emory didn’t hear any notification, he assumed the phone was on vibrate. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to come back to service it. I have to run.”
Emory nodded. “See you later.”
Scot walked to the hallway entrance and unloaded the bottle onto the floor next to the water cooler and an empty bottle before leaving.
Once Scot exited, Wayne asked, “Who’s that?”
“Victor Algarotti’s assistant.”
“He’s a secretary?” Wayne snickered. “He doesn’t look like a sissy.”
Annoyed by his partner’s statement, Emory popped out of his seat. “I need some water.”
“I could use some myself.”
Emory didn’t wait for him, but the older man caught up to him at the water cooler. He pulled a cup from the dispenser and filled it.
Wayne followed suit and pointed to the hallway past the cooler. “What’s down there?”
Emory glanced at Deputy Harris, whose eyes were focused on his computer. “I’ll show you.” Three steps later, they were out of view of the deputies and approaching a white door with a square shatterproof window. Emory looked inside to see a room empty except for a commode in one corner and a folded blanket, some pillows and a six-foot mat on the floor.
Wayne peeked inside. “What’s this room?”
“It’s the holding room.”
“Holding room?” Wayne laughed as if Emory weren’t serious. “You mean this is the jail?”
“That’s it.” Emory walked a little further down the hall to a small, unlocked cabinet built into the wall. “Dad doesn’t think that they need to spend money on a jail.” He opened the cabinet and pulled out a key on a souvenir keychain from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and returned to Wayne. “People are only here for a night or two before being released or sent to Knox County.”
“But anyone could knock this door down with a swift kick.”
“Not really.” Emory unlocked the door so Wayne could see inside. “He had the wall and door reinforced, and there’s a double-key deadbolt.” He pointed at the lock and at the twelve-by-eight-inch window in the opposing wall. “The window’s way too tiny for anyone to squeeze out, so the only way in or out is with the key.”
They could hear a door squeak open. “I think that’s the interrogation room. Dad must be finished with Dan.” Emory relocked the holding room and returned the key. The two agents hurried back to the deputy room in time to see the sheriff holding open the front door as Dan Claymon left the building. Wayne and Emory exchanged confused glances. “Dad, we wanted to talk to him.”
The sheriff shook his head. “After the way you two embarrassed him today, I didn’t think that would be a good idea.”
Wayne’s eyebrows reached for his former hairline. “That’s not your call to make, all due respect.”
Emory grabbed Wayne’s arm. “Dad, what did you find out from him?”
“We just talked but not about the case. He did offer up that he only ran because he panicked.”
“Jesus!” Wayne chopped the air like a preacher giving a hell-fire sermon. “We already knew that was his excuse.”
The sheriff brandished a look of disapproval. “He got ahold of his mom, and she didn’t give permission for us to talk to him about Britt’s murder.”
Wayne threw up his hands. “So that’s it?”
“Until you have more to go on. Look here, Dan’s a decent kid. He’s had a few problems with us, but nothing too serious.”
“Could I see what you have on him?” Wayne asked.
Sheriff Rome hesitated. “Sure. I guess I can let you see his file.”
Emory seized the opportunity to dump his partner for a while. “Wayne, while you’re doing that, I’m going to talk to Britt’s skating coach.”
“You told me we’re not splitting up today.”
“I’ll be back in a half an hour, max.”
“Fine,” Wayne responded, although his tone suggested he was anything but.