Chapter Twenty-Seven

I WENT HOME to the farm. The sheriff’s cruiser, an ambulance, and Twitch’s Jeep were still in the yard. Dad waved me over to where he talked with Sheriff Scrogrum.

Ambulance attendants wheeled a gurney with a man bandaged and receiving fluids through his left arm.

“He’s alive. Doctor Jacks?” I said.

“Yep.” Dad removed his hat and wiped the inside with his bandana. “Did your momma tell you? How’d you figure it out?”

“Momma tipped me off when she reacted to me saying Ricky had been shot up with ketamine. Then I remembered what she’d said about all his vehicles, nice suits, and drinking at the Lake Tavern. It was a process of elimination after I’d already guessed wrong twice.”

“It looks to law enforcement that Doctor Jacks went after Ricky. He got your momma to come to the clinic with a bogus report of a big emergency.” Dad put an arm around my shoulder. He wasn’t one to lower himself to gallows humor, but he said, “I bet he wishes he didn’t wear such a nice suit out to our farm.”

I snorted a slight laugh, but I felt sick that I’d shot a person. And I was relieved he wouldn’t be coming after Ricky or me in our house again, although the image was already tattooed to my brain along with Becky.

“He’s probably the jerk who called in the false report of a fire at the lumber yard. The voluntary firemen had to go over every inch of the place before we got the all clear.” Dad coughed a bit. “I bet he was trying to keep Kenny and me in town while he had your momma wasting her time waiting at the clinic. All those lies gave him the chance to go after Ricky.”

Dad said I should explain everything to Sheriff Scrogrum so that he didn’t have to wait for Mumble and Shuffle to solve the crime. “Sheriff Scrogrum could use some success. Mumble and Shuffle are in the house taking pictures, shoving things in evidence bags, and measuring this and that throughout the house. Once they give the all clear, Twitch will start cleaning. Oh, and they’re going to want your clothes.”

“Budget cuts?”

“Funny, Lorraine.” Dad called Sheriff Scrogrum over to where we stood. “Lorraine’s here now. She can explain whatever I don’t know or left out.”

“I think I understand some of it myself. Let me get this straight.” Sheriff Scrogrum scratched his head and jotted notes in a pad. “There were two cowhands taking the wires off Ricky’s jaw when I got home today. They were supposed to be helping me find the guys who beat Ricky, but they were just trying to find out for Warren McGerber what Ricky remembered. I can’t prove they worked for Warren McGerber, but it’s true.”

“I’ll need to interview the cowhands.” The sheriff marked some things in his long, skinny notebook.

“You can’t interview them. I ran them off with a shotgun and one of them doesn’t want to get caught for having sex with a minor.”

“Right. So, this guy who’s leaving in the ambulance, did he come with the cowhands?”

“No. I think the cowhands called Warren McGerber—I can’t prove it. He got there late.”

“Grind heard from Lewis and Petey about some college kids who were saying some hateful stuff that night at the tavern. Grind worried they had something to do with Ricky being hurt, so he decided to open the church as sanctuary for Ricky and for me if they could find me.”

“Right, I thought Grind’s the president of that group.”

“He was, but he doesn’t go for violence. He wants to stomp out evil, but he didn’t want people literally stomping one another, especially when Grind realized that stomping might include his own daughter.”

“They hurt the Grind girl too?”

“No, Charity is out of town and she’s going to Europe. She’s with someone else. Our relationship is over.”

Dad touched my shoulder. “Aw Lorraine, I’m sorry. You’ve been through so much, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad. Sorry, Sheriff, you don’t need to know all of that. I’ll stick to what happened with Ricky. When Pastor Grind realized that whoever hurt Ricky also learned Ricky would be able to talk tomorrow, he and McGerber opened the church and invited Momma to bring Ricky there to be safe and get his wires off a day early.”

“So, who hurt Ricky?” Sheriff asked.

“Warren McGerber did, but I can’t prove it. Doctor Jacks did and he’s in the ambulance. The college boys pulled Ricky out of the car because some guys—probably Lewis or McGerber or Jacks—got them riled up thinking they were saving America from queers.”

“I thought McGerber helped to keep Ricky safe?”

“That was J.C. McGerber,” I said. “It was Warren McGerber, J.C.’s brother, who beat Ricky and tied him to the fence, but I can’t prove it. It will all get blamed on Doctor Jacks. Warren McGerber calls it an act of God. Warren is a good actor. He’s trying to perform himself into congress.”

“Right, so it was Warren McGerber’s cigarette butts at the crime scene?” Maybe they’ll get him.

“Probably, although I think Doctor Jacks takes a puff now and again too,” Dad chimed in.

“Why’d he go across the field to the Hollister place?” the sheriff asked. “I suppose it’s his boot print we found?”

That boot print belongs to Russ, but it’s not mine to say.

“Is there anything left for me to do?” the sheriff said.

“Well, I suppose you need to put a warrant out on Lewis and Petey for their assault on Ricky at our farm and maybe they’ll snitch on the others.”

“Yep, that’s already done.” The sheriff looked thoroughly confused.

“Do I have to go to jail because I shot Dr. Jacks? I swear it was self-defense.”

The sheriff slapped his notebook shut. “I know where to find you if the physical evidence and Mumble and Shuffle’s inquiry prove you had culpability in this whole mess. I left an evidence bag with your dad. We’ll need the clothes and shoes you were wearing.”

Sheriff Scrogrum walked slowly to his cruiser.

“We better write this all out for the sheriff and drop the note off later,” Dad said.

I agreed.