“Nice house.” Sully stared up at the golf course mansion and wondered how Kerry afforded the house on the salary of a Possum Creek deputy.
“Thanks.” Kerry unlocked the front door with a key. “It's been for sale for the last six months. I was asking three hundred thousand but then Cal Walker shot Curtis dead in my driveway and now my realtor says I'm not going to be able to give the damn place away. One death in the house can be overlooked, especially considering that my mother died from what basically boiled down to natural causes. Two deaths within a year, however, just ruin your real estate value.”
“Oh.” Sully didn't know what to say to that.
“He didn't even die inside the house. Trish shoved him out the second story guest bedroom window. Surprisingly, the fall onto the concrete didn't kill him. Nope. He would have survived if Cal hadn't blown half his skull off with that .357 he carries around. The crime scene cleaners couldn't get the blood stain off the driveway. I had to have a construction crew come in, break up the concrete and put new concrete in. It cost me over ten thousand dollars, but do you think anyone offered to reimburse me for my losses?” Kerry stomped through into the kitchen and turned on the lights.
Sully trailed after him, taking in the massive stainless steel appliances and floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a covered swimming pool with its own fountain. The entire rear of the house looked out over the Callahan County Country Club's golf course.
“You know you can just leave, right?” Kerry opened up his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He didn't offer Sully anything. “I'm not a murderer or a flight risk.”
“I promised Sheriff Chasson I would keep you in my official custody until Monday,” Sully said.
“At which point my seventy two hour hold will be over and you'll have to release me. Actually, my hold will be over on Sunday afternoon. You can't keep me until Monday.” Kerry waggled his finger at Sully in a very patronizing no-no gesture.
Sully leaned against the square table for eight that was occupying what he supposed was technically a breakfast nook. “You had a dead woman's head in your trunk. Her family wants justice. I talked with the Sheriff earlier and he's leaning towards charging you with Beverly Jones's murder.”
Kerry dropped the water bottle out of his hand. The bottle hit the floor and water splashed up, covering the legs of his pants and coating Sully in a fine mist. “I didn't kill her!” Kerry exclaimed.
“We don't have any other suspects.” Sully purposely ignored Kerry and focused on looking out the window at the golf course. Some guy had just slung his putter into a water hazard in a fit of anger. Idiot.
“What about Addison?” Kerry demanded.
“What about Addison?” Sully threw his own words back at him. “Addison wasn't the one who was driving around Possum Creek with a head in the trunk of his personal vehicle.”
“Addison doesn't have a personal vehicle.” Kerry's cheeks were turning a very bright shade of angry pink. “Or a trunk.”
“If you have any evidence at all that you think will help clear your name, I'd be delighted to see it,” Sully said. “Truth be told, I'm not looking forward to rooming with you. You strike me as being a pretty high maintenance kind of guy.” Sully gestured to the opulent kitchen.
“I didn't kill that woman and I have no idea who did,” Kerry said.
“You keep saying you're innocent, but so do all the rest of the murderers on death row. Give me a reason to believe you.”
“I'm a cop!” Kerry stomped his feet against the tile floor.
“So was what's his name.” Sully couldn't remember the name of the last Callahan County deputy who had gone over to the criminal side of life. “What was his name again? The deputy who killed his wife's lover and then took you hostage?”
“I'm not Richard Perkins.”
“Right. You're not Perkins. You could be Ian McIntyre, I reckon. He killed that girl while y'all were in high school.” Sully pretended to check out the edges of his fingernails and then began filing them with his pocket knife. “You know, for a small police force, the Callahan County Sheriff's Department has way more of its share of murderers. Two out of a staff of what, five people? That's like forty percent murderous cop. Sixty percent if you get convicted. Pretty sure that's worse than New York City. Hell, might even be worse than Detroit.”
“Go to hell,” Kerry told him.
“I'm going to be living with you for the next two days. That's basically the same thing as hell, so technically we're already there.” Sully shrugged.
Kerry's entire face had turned redder than a late summer tomato. His hands were shaking as he pointed one index finger at Sully. “I am a good cop. I am the best fucking cop this shithole town has ever had. I am the only honest cop this shithole town has ever had. The only reason I'm under arrest is because Addison wants me gone and he'll do anything to get rid of me. He doesn't want me uncovering any more of his precious little secrets or sending any more of his buddies to jail. Addison Malone is a liar and a killer. He and Frank Chasson have been doing whatever they want for years and I am the only person standing between those two criminals and total chaos for the citizens of this county!”
“Uh huh. I wish I bought that story but you still haven't given me any evidence,” Sully drawled the words out slowly and calmly. The calmer he stayed, the more upset Kerry got.
“I don't have it yet!” Kerry's eyes were bulging in their sockets as he slammed his fist down against the counter. “I've been in Possum Creek for almost an entire year and I have nothing to show for it. Every time I find evidence of Addison's wrongdoing, I give it to Sheriff Chasson and he dismisses it. He always has excuses. He always looks the other way and lets those criminals slide right through the cracks in the walls of justice. I have devoted my life, my entire life, to getting justice. I wanted justice for Casey.”
“You got justice for Casey,” Sully pointed out.
Kerry let out a very small, soft laugh. “Justice? You call what happened to Casey justice?”
“Ian confessed.”
“Ian got a plea deal and he'll never see the inside of a jail cell. He doesn't even have a criminal record. He's still free to live his life. Hell, he didn't even get fired. He's still technically a cop. Do you really think a few months of unpaid administrative leave is fair punishment for murdering a teenage girl? Do you?” Kerry demanded. “Answer me!”
Sully took a deep breath and then shook his head. “No. I don't think that's justice. I'll give you that much. Ian got a slap on the wrist.”
“He can't even find her body!” Tears had begun to stream down Kerry's cheeks now. “He can't even find her. He doesn't remember where he hid her body. We can't even bury her properly. How is that anything but criminal?”
Sully truly didn't have an answer to that one, so instead he walked past Kerry and opened up the refrigerator. He pretended to be looking through the canned drinks on the shelves as he watched Kerry wipe the tears from his eyes.
“I hate all of them,” Kerry said. “I hate Ian. I hate Addison. I hate Frank Chasson for protecting Ian and Addison. I just hate everyone. I want nothing more than to see each and every one of them rotting in a jail cell for the crimes they have committed.”
“You still haven't told me what crimes Addison has committed,” Sully pointed out as he chose an off brand grape soda from the shelf.
“He helped Ian kill Casey,” Kerry said, sounding marginally calmer than he had a moment before. “I'm sure of it. He didn't want Ian to confess.”
“Have any evidence of that?” Sully didn't care for drinking out of cans so he went to the cabinet and pulled out a glass instead. He pushed it underneath the automatic ice maker, but nothing happened.
“The ice maker jams,” Kerry said. “You'll have to open the freezer and get ice out of the bin.”
Sully abandoned the ice maker and opened the freezer door.
“I know Addison is crooked. I've tried to prove it half a dozen crimes but no one will listen to me. Everyone loves him. The sheriff loves him. The judges love him. The citizens even love him. I've had people he arrested tell me that he's a better cop than I am. How can you like someone who arrests you?” Kerry asked.
Sully didn't answer because he was too busy staring at the freezer burned right arm that was sitting on the shelf just above the ice maker and below a tub of ice cream. There was an emerald bracelet around the disembodied limb's wrist. A note had been wedged in between the fingers.
GIVE ME BACK MY JEWELRY
AND NO ONE ELSE HAS TO DIE.
Kerry was still talking behind him, muttering something about how Addison and Katie were apparently sleeping together now that Ian was temporarily off the force and how it was a shame that adultery wasn't illegal because Kerry wasn't friends with Katie either.
“Kerry.” Sully couldn't take his eyes off the half-rotted, now frozen arm.
“What do all the women in this town see in Addison? I don't get it. Tall and blonde isn't that rare or special. What use is a pretty game warden? Do the deer care? Do the fish care?”
“Kerry.”
“And why couldn't I just be half as good looking as Addison? My job seems like it would go so much easier if I could just charm everyone the way Addison does.”
“Kerry!” Sully snapped the name and Kerry stopped rambling.
“What?” Kerry asked. “Is the ice machine broken?”
“I have no idea. Tell me about the jewelry.”
Kerry let out a huff. “I already told you, I don't know anything about-.”
“Cut the bullshit, Kerry.” Sully took a step back away from the freezer so that his shoulders were no longer blocking the view of the inside of the freezer.
“The jewelry? Kerry?”
Sully turned just in time to see Kerry's complexion go from flushed red to pasty white as the other man took one look at the arm in the fridge and then hit the floor, passing out cold.
“Mother fucker,” Sully said as he pulled out his phone to call in the Baker County Mobile Crime Unit for the second day in a row.