Delegation
Tanner knocked on the open doorjamb. Early-morning yellow light cut through the blinds and striped the walls. “Your vehicle hasn’t moved since last night.”
“That’s right,” Dalton said without looking up.
“I brought you one of these,” Tanner said, producing a red-and-white thirty-two-ounce soda cup with a few inches of paper wrapper on the tip of the straw. Dalton looked up and smiled. His trash can was full of a half dozen similar cups. The top of his desk was strewn with files, his monitor flagged with Post-it Notes. “This wonderful stuff is going to kill me,” he said. “Thank you.”
“It won’t kill you today,” Tanner said, setting the drink within reach.
“How is Sophia Shepard?”
“They gave her something so she can sleep. The FBI is going to take a statement later today.”
“What about the other one. The rich lady with the mask?” Dalton asked.
“Haven’t heard much. I’m so glad all that happened in Arizona. Sounds like she’s some kind of VIP, so the FBI is sweating bullets. Apparently, she’s demanding protective custody. She says her man, Nick Scissors, will come after her,” Tanner said.
“Stan Forsythe has a theory about her.”
“I’m sure he will tell everyone all about it. He’s holding court down at the HooDoo. All the usual crackpots. I don’t know how we’re going to get this particular snake back in the can.”
“It’s going to take months before we get back to normal,” Dalton said. “The day I flew home from Kabul, I took one look around and told the whole country to go to hell. I could do it because I was nobody. It wasn’t my problem anymore. When I got home, that place came with me. I was a mess for years. It ruined my marriage. Now I’m somebody, and everything collects on my desk waiting for me to sign off on it. I’d like to hop on an Osprey and take off, just disappear. Turn it off at the end like a movie.”
“They don’t do them like that anymore,” Tanner said. “There’s always a sequel. You shouldn’t start wanting something that won’t happen. Better off being okay with it.”
“Dying doesn’t even get you out of it. You probably wake up on the other side, and they put you to work. I’m not kidding. I just want a long nap. It’s not just the job. I’ve got a divorce to wrap up, and I’ve got to work up the courage to tell Karen I’m keeping the house.”
“Why don’t you take a slug of that soda before you start writing poems or folk songs or something.”
Dalton slid his drink closer. Before he could take a sip, the phone rang. Dalton lifted his eyebrows and looked at Tanner, then he answered. It was LaRae. “Hi, Sheriff, I’m sorry about this, but it’s Raylene. She said it’s urgent. She said she remembered something important.”
Tanner shrugged and mouthed the words “See you later,” then he left.
“Before you put her through, I wanted to tell you I put out a BOLO for your car.”
“You’ve got a lot to think about. The car can wait,” LaRae said.
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said.
“I’m putting her through now,” LaRae said.
“Raylene, how are you?” Dalton said.
“Patrick, could you come and get me?”
He didn’t know how to tell her he was off the case or if that would even be something she’d remember or if it would matter. He decided to say that he was going to have a hard time getting away.
“Oh, Sheriff. You can delegate.”
Dalton laughed out loud without meaning to. “I’d like nothing better than to run off.”
“What if I told you I had the answer.”
“To what?”
“To your mystery. I remember it now. I can show you the maps you wanted to see.”
“Raylene, we’re doing okay with that now.”
There was a long silence broken by Raylene telling someone to go away. “If you could pick me up, I could take you right to the maps you’re asking about. I’m not sure how long I’ll remember because, you know, things come and go, but I know where Bruce kept them. I know where these things are on the monument.”
Dalton sized up the papers on his desk. When a notification banner appeared on his monitor from the Arizona State Police, he looked at it, then waited for it to fade.
“Sheriff?” Raylene asked.
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “It’ll take ten minutes.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He took his soda and walked to LaRae’s desk. She looked at him and apologized. He raised his cup and headed out. As he left the parking lot, he passed through the black rubber skids and remnants of brake lights scattered on the road from yesterday’s wreck. Out-of-state cars drove past him, headed to the next stop on their vacations.
He parked in front of the Beehive House and went in. Raylene was sitting in the front room, with her purse at her feet, a basket to one side, and something small in her hands.
Dalton waved and signed her out, then helped her stand. She handed him a CD of Glenn Miller songs. “It’s called The Unforgettable. I pilfered it from one of the gentlemen in here who has been trying to put the moves on me.”
“Raylene, your house is just a couple of minutes away. Are we going to need all this stuff?”
She looked away and started wringing the knuckles of one hand with the fingers of the other. Dalton looked down and saw some apples inside the basket, a Ziploc bag of dinner rolls, silverware wrapped up in paper napkins, and two plastic cups stacked one inside of the other.
“Patrick, I feel like we won’t need those maps at all today.”
“I see,” Dalton said, then he helped Raylene stand. When she stooped to pick up the basket, he reached it first.