| |
IT WAS JUST PAST 7:00 a.m. when Mrs. Thornton opened the door of her home to Ames. At first, she stood looking blankly at him and he said, “Good morning, ma’am. I’m sheriff—”
“I know who you are, sir.” She cut him off. She looked at him a moment more and then said, “Please, come in. I’ll take your hat.”
He held his Stetson by the brim, glanced at it, was about to thank her, then remembered how holding the hat made him seem nervous and fidgety when he’d visited Mrs. O’Toole’s home. He handed the hat over and said, “I’m here to see Mr. Thornton. Is he in?”
“Yes,” she said, taking the hat, and hanging it on the mahogany coat rack in the foyer. She left the foyer and glanced back to be sure he followed. She led him into one of the two living areas in the home.
“Would you like something, Mr. Ames? Coffee, maybe?”
“No, ma’am. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll only be here a few minutes. I just need to speak to your husband briefly.”
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Ames, but suit yourself. My husband is in his den. This way, please.”
She led him through a long hallway where he passed several closed doors and a half-bath to which the door stood slightly ajar. At the end of the narrow hallway they made a left into a short hall with a set of double doors at the end. The room must face the front of the home, so Thornton would not be surprised by his presence, as he had hoped.
She put her hand on the glass knob of the left door and paused at the sound of Ames’ voice.
“I’m very sorry about Melanie.” He touched her shoulder and felt her stiffen under his hand. “She was a lovely girl and I know she is deeply missed. My wife said she was a very pleasant person.”
She looked into his eyes and seemed to be satisfied that his sympathy was genuine, not just politeness. “Thank you, Mr. Ames.”
“I want you to know that no matter what your husband may say about me, I am dedicated to finding the man who took your daughter away from you.”
“I trust that you will, Mr. Ames. In my husband’s defense, I must say that he has taken the loss of our daughter very badly. I know people in this town think that Ryerson is . . . well, cold. But he does have feelings and he is a caring man. He just has trouble showing it. I’m sure that whatever he has said about you he does not mean. He is only trying to cope in his own way, which may not be everyone’s way.”
He touched her arm again, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank your wife for her kind words,” Mrs. Thornton said and turned the knob, opening the door.
She stepped into the room first and Ames followed behind her. They paused at the entrance of the big room and stared for a moment at Ryerson behind his desk. His head was slumped into his hands, his white hair stuck up like branches, pointing in all directions. He wore purple silk pajamas beneath a maroon smoking jacket that was undone.
“Ryerson, dear,” Mrs. Thornton said. “You have company.”
Ryerson raised his head from his hands and looked wearily up at his wife. The man looked as if he had not slept in days. His eyes were red and sunken, his cheeks gaunt and pale. His look of weariness quickly turned to surprise when he saw his guest.
For a moment, Ames felt a twinge of glee about the glimmer of surprised fear he saw in Thornton’s eyes, but that soon turned to guilt as he realized he was seeing a side of Thornton he had not seen before—a beaten, grief-stricken man who had lost one of his greatest treasures.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ames,” Mrs. Thornton said, as she left the room and closed the door behind her.
A long silence hung in the air, as both men eyed each other across the room. Ames’ anger seemed to drain out of him and everything he had come to say to Thornton seemed too harsh now.
Ryerson said, “Come in, sheriff. I must admit I am surprised to see you here at this time of the day.”
He crossed the room but did not sit in the chair opposite Thornton. Instead he stood in front of the man and said, “I’m sorry to come so early, but there is some business we need to discuss that couldn’t wait.”
“Oh?” Thornton said, genuinely interested now. His grainy eyes looked a little clearer. “Is there news about my daughter?”
Ames took the folded newspaper from under his arm and opened it to the front page. He placed the paper on Thornton’s desk and stood straight again. “This is what I came about.”
Ryerson looked down at the paper and began to read. When he was a quarter of the way through, he looked up and said, “Who wrote this?”
The anger that had washed out of him at the sight of Thornton a moment ago came flooding back. He slapped his hand down on the paper, startling Thornton. “Cut the shit. I know damn well this was your doing.”
“Seriously, Ames, why would—”
“Just shut up and listen to me. I really don’t care what you say about me, or how you try to slander me with the people of this town. I don’t care if I am re-elected when this month is over, because, frankly, I don’t think I want to do this job anymore.”
He snatched up the paper in one huge hand and threw it in Thornton’s face. “If that woman gets hurt because of what you’ve done, you’ll regret ever sticking your nose into my business. Mark my words. She’s come a long way to help me catch the man who did this to your daughter. I will catch him, even if it’s the last thing I do as sheriff of this town.”
Ryerson stood, knocking his chair back. “How dare you—”
“You can launch your personal attacks against me in your campaign to remove me from this office, but if anyone else gets hurt in the process of bringing me down, I guarantee that I will come back here, without my badge and gun, just a big, mean black mother-fucker who is going to kick your bigoted ass.”
He turned and walked toward the door, and as he opened it, Thornton called out to him, “You’ve just signed your warrant of dismissal, Ames. How dare you come in here, into my home, and threaten me? My daughter is dead, and you come in here all high and mighty and insult me. When I’m through with you you’ll be just another nigger collecting welfare and eating government cheese.”
Ames paused with the door open, knob in hand. “If your daughter hadn’t died, Mr. Thornton, how would you have come at me then? Would you say I was partying with hookers and drug addicts in exchange for looking the other way while crimes were committed? Or would you have tried to convince everyone that I was misappropriating funds to subsidize an extravagant lifestyle?”
“Bastard,” Ryerson hissed and with one quick thrust of his arms sent the items on his desk sprawling to the floor. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
Ames left, quietly closing the door behind him. He stood behind the double doors, silently listening to Thornton rage. Everyone grieves in their own way, he thought and left to go speak to Susan Moore.