Chapter Twenty-Two

“Bo, we’ll finish up here and lock the house when we’re done,” Sheriff Hermock told him after Bo had finished caring for the dogs. “I’d like you to go to the hospital, and if Lucas wakes up, question him. Maybe he knows where Joe is and will tell you.”

“I’ll do that, Sheriff,” he said. Exhaustion was dragging him down, but he didn’t have time to rest.

“I’ll send another officer to relieve Deputy Grizzel of his watch at the hotel, and he can join you at the hospital in a while,” the sheriff concluded. “I will need to know where he and the ladies are.”

“I’ll find out and let you know,” Bo said. Bo and Two Face headed for the hospital, but as soon as he was on the road, he called Rosina. “Are you and Nattie okay?”

“We’re at a hotel. Nattie is resting on one of the beds, and Deputy Grizzel is on a chair just outside the door,” she said.

“Have you heard from Karmen and Melia?”

“They just got to the hospital in Salt Lake. They aren’t even inside yet, so I don’t know anything about Ron Brady’s condition,” she reported. “I’m worried about the animals that didn’t get fed.”

“They won’t die without one meal,” Bo said. “They can wait until tomorrow.” Then he told her where Ace and Herc were. “They’ll be fine until morning as well. You and Nattie need to get some sleep.”

“I’m worried about Deputy Grizzel,” she said. “He’s got to be tired. So have you for that matter. What are you doing now?”

“I’m heading for the hospital to check on Lucas. Does Nattie know he’s been shot?”

“She knows. She’s both sad and relieved, if that makes any sense,” Rosina said.

“It makes a lot of sense. What hotel are you at? I need to let the sheriff know so he can send someone to relieve Jim. I’m going to need his help,” he said.

Once the sheriff knew where to send a replacement for Jim, Bo continued in silence toward the hospital, his mind working overtime. Where were his other suspects? Lucas, in his mind, could still be the killer. If so, he would know where Joe was at, for Emil’s killer was most likely to know.

Bryan Bayle? He had not been seen, and he was being watched for by officers all over the state and beyond. He was a murder suspect because of his wife and his brother, both of whom he had almost certainly murdered. He was also a suspect in Emil’s murder, and right now, in Bo’s mind, he was the most likely of them all, even more so than Lucas. His wife, when she wrote that desperate note that never got finished, seemed to have been pointing to Bryan as Emil’s killer.

Then there was Leonardo Augur. He was a drug pusher. He’d sold once to Joe and was angry when Joe refused to buy from him a second time, instead going back to Emil. Leonardo’s motive was more than just anger over one customer, namely Joe, but it could be that he simply wanted Emil’s customers—all of them. With Emil dead, that would likely be accomplished.

After he talked to Lucas, if Lucas even survived and could talk, he needed to get back to Castle Dale. Leonardo had to be around somewhere. If so, Bo felt it was urgent that he find him. He and Jim had never been able to finish their search for Leonardo’s gardener, and that also needed to be done. That gardener could very likely give them some good information on Leonardo, possibly even his location.

Finally, the one person whose name he didn’t know came to mind. That man was a suspect simply because Joe said he’d threatened Emil if he didn’t pay him what was owed. Very little was known about him. Much more needed to be learned about that man, including his identity.

Lucas could be the key to learning more about each of these other men if he turned out not to be Emil’s killer, something that was up in the air at the moment. Bo’s thoughts turned to his young cousin Joe Whalen. Where was he? Was he hurt badly? Was he even alive? An interview with Lucas was critical. But he could only be interviewed if he lived and if he became conscious and lucid enough to talk.

Bo wanted to wring Will Merianos’s neck. There had been no need to shoot Lucas like he had. What he’d done had been against the sheriff’s specific orders. Will’s action was inexcusable. Yes, Bo admitted to himself, Lucas had had a gun in his hand. But he was not pointing it at any officers. In fact, as he recalled, Lucas had been rubbing his eyes with one hand, coughing, and holding the gun with the other hand as he’d emerged from the house. Bo parked his Explorer at the hospital and then shut his eyes, trying to bring back the memory in clearer form.

There was no question that the tear gas had severely affected Lucas. If Nattie was right, he was also high, and that made him even more messed up. Rubbing his eyes told Bo that he couldn’t have seen well enough to aim his pistol if he’d wanted to. He was coughing so hard that he would not have been able to hold the gun steady, high on drugs or not. Then into Bo’s mind came a clearer picture. The pistol, the one Will had used as an excuse to fire at Lucas, had been hanging in his free hand at his side. No, Lucas had not been a threat in that moment. Will, as the sheriff had said, had better hope Lucas survived, for there was no way it could be ruled as a justified shooting.

Bo got out of his Explorer and walked slowly toward the hospital. Inside, he identified himself and inquired about Lucas. He was told that Lucas was in surgery and no one knew how long it would be before the surgery was finished. No one could tell him what chance Lucas had of survival either. No one he talked to seemed to know, or if they did, they wouldn’t tell him.

Bo sat down in the main waiting room and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Hey, partner, wake up,” he heard suddenly, and he jumped in his chair. Jim was standing there grinning. “Sorry, but we need to find out how Lucas is doing.”

Bo looked at his watch. He must have fallen asleep as soon as he’d laid his head back. That had been over a half hour ago. “Sorry, but when I checked last, he was still in surgery.”

“Let’s check again,” Jim suggested.

Bo forced himself to his feet, and the two tired officers made the inquiry. Lucas was still in surgery. There was no estimate as to when he would be out. Bo called Sheriff Hermock. “Are you still at the Brady farm?” he asked him.

“Yes, and we will be for a while yet. Although I’m not sure there’s a whole lot more to be learned here. How is Lucas?” the sheriff asked.

“He’s still in surgery. Should Jim and I wait here?”

“No, go get some sleep for at least three or four hours, and then head back to the hospital. It’ll be daylight by then. Unless, of course, there’s something else you can do tonight that will be productive.”

“I can’t think of anything,” Bo admitted. “I have other suspects, but they still need to be found. As to where Joe is, I don’t think we’ll learn anything until we can talk to Lucas—if we can talk to him at all.”

Both deputies left the hospital. Bo told Jim to meet him at the sheriff’s office in four hours. Then after he was back in his car, he called Melia. She sounded very groggy when she answered her phone. “Hi, Melia. It’s Bo,” he said. “How’s your grandfather?”

“He’s still in surgery,” she said. “We got a report from one doctor who says it’s touch-and-go right now. He may or may not live. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“We’ll work that out together, Melia, but let’s pray he lives. Are you and Karmen holding up okay?”

“We’re fine. So what about Lucas? Did he surrender?”

“Not exactly,” Bo said. “But he is in custody.”

“Did he tell you where Joe’s at?” she asked, her voice choked with emotion.

“Not yet. I haven’t been able to talk to him,” he said.

“Why not? Won’t he talk to you?” she asked.

Bo debated with himself and then decided she had a right to know. “Lucas got shot. He was trying to surrender, but one of the officers didn’t give him a chance.”

“Oh no. Is he dead? How can he tell us where Joe is if he’s dead?” she moaned.

“He’s not dead, but he’s hurt badly. He’s in surgery, and when they’re through with the operation and he wakes up, then I’ll see what he knows or what he will tell us.”

“If he was giving up, why did someone shoot him, Bo?”

“That’s for Sheriff Hermock to find out,” Bo said. “Listen. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you back later and check on your grandfather.”

“Will you call me if Lucas tells you where Joe is?” she asked.

“You know I will. Let me talk to Karmen for a minute,” he said then.

He talked with his girlfriend the rest of the way home, filling in some of the details of the culmination of the standoff.

Joe woke up in extreme pain. It took him a few tortured minutes to remember what had happened to him. He’d almost gotten away, but then he got shot. So where was he now? And where was the man who shot him?

He strained himself but was unable to look up from the floor where he was lying. He tried to move so he could look around but discovered that his feet were tied. To his horror, so were his hands. His head flopped down again. He guessed that the killer had left him here to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Joe thought of Melia, Rosina, Ron, and Bo. What were they thinking, and was anyone looking for him? If they were, how would they even know where to look? Once again, he chided himself for smoking pot. He was going to die for that mistake, and he guessed that was fair. But his loved ones, his friends, didn’t deserve the sadness he’d brought into their lives. Not one of those four had ever been anything but good to him. Now he’d caused them to go through so much pain.

When Bo and Jim got back to the hospital, they were told that Lucas had survived the operation but that he was sleeping now. If they could wait an hour or two, it might be possible to speak to him. While they waited, they both got on their phones. Jim was trying to find out if anything had turned up on Bryan Bayle or Leonardo Augur and seeing if he could learn anything more about the elusive dealer whose name they did not know.

Bo was talking to Melia. She was very positive about Ron. “He survived the surgery and the doctor told me that they were able to make some repairs to his heart that should make him feel better than he has for a long time,” she said.

“Have you been able to talk to him yet?” Bo asked.

“He’s still in recovery, but he should be in a room in the next few minutes. Then Karmen and I will get to see him,” she reported.

“Did you and Karmen get any sleep?” he asked.

“A little, if you call dozing with your head back in a chair sleeping. Karmen is sure a nice person, Bo. She likes you a lot. You are lucky.”

“I am at that,” he agreed.

“She’s getting us a hotel room so we can sleep after we’ve seen Grandpa.” With barely a pause, Melia asked, “Do you know anything about Joe yet? Have you talked to Lucas?”

“Lucas also survived his surgery, and no, nothing more on Joe, but dozens of officers are searching for other men who may have taken him. Lucas is not our only suspect,” he reminded her. After finishing his call with Melia, he spoke with Karmen for a little while, and then he called Rosina. “Did I wake you?”

“No, Nattie and I are sitting on our beds talking. We didn’t get much sleep last night. I talked to the officer who’s outside our door, and he said that it had been quiet all night,” she told him.

“After I talk with Lucas, which should be in the next hour or so, then we can decide what you guys need to do,” Bo said.

“We already know,” Rosina said. “We need to get out to Ron Brady’s farm and feed his hungry animals. The officer at our door said he would go with us.”

“Not until Sheriff Hermock and I say it’s okay,” Bo warned.

“I figured that,” she said. “I just hope Lucas can and will help you find Joe. Have you talked to Karmen or Melia yet this morning?”

“Yes,” he said.

“So have I. It sounds like Ron’s going to be okay.”

“It sure does. Let me say hi to Nattie, Rosina,” Bo said.

“Hello, Detective Buckley,” Nattie said a moment later.

“You can call me Bo. How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay. I’m just tired and worried like you guys are. But I’m glad Lucas didn’t die. I don’t ever want to see him again, but I’m still glad he’s alive. Will you tell him that for me when you talk to him?” she asked.

“If you would like me to,” he said.

“I would, please. Also tell him not to ever try to contact me again.” She paused. “I’m glad Ron is okay. He is such a wonderful man.” They talked for another minute or so, and then Bo ended the call.

A few minutes later, his phone rang. It was the sheriff. “Bo, I assume you are familiar with Joe Whalen’s handwriting.”

“I am. Why?”

“I have a letter here. I think you should come read it.”

“What’s it about?” Bo asked as he glanced at Jim with narrowed eyes.

“Just come. Are you at the hospital?”

“We are.”

“Have you been able to talk to Lucas yet?”

“No. He survived the surgery. They told us a few minutes ago that we may be able to talk to him in about an hour,” Bo said.

“Okay, good. Come here, look at what I have, and then you can go back and work on Lucas. Bring Deputy Grizzel with you.” The sheriff ended the call on that note.

As the two officers rode toward the sheriff’s office, they reported to each other on what they had learned. Bo’s report was fairly straightforward. Jim’s was a little more complicated: “No sign of Bryan Bayle or Leonardo Augur. An officer in Castle Dale drove by his house a short while ago and said it didn’t look like anyone was there. They checked several times during the night as well, but he hasn’t been seen.”

“That figures,” Bo said. “He may know we’re looking for him. For all we know, he may have seen us there yesterday. Anything on the identity of the other drug dealer?”

“Yes. I talked to a guy who used to be on drugs. He thinks the guy’s name is Devonte Grillo. I checked, and that name doesn’t show up anywhere that I can find. I checked the databases he should show up on. He has no driver’s license, at least not in Utah. There are no vehicles registered to him in the state. I guess we can check for both those things in other states. I checked with the Bureau of Criminal Identification. There’s nothing on him there. He’s never been in prison. There’s nothing on him on NCIC. It’s like the guy doesn’t exist.”

“I think you just hit on it. He doesn’t exist, at least not with that name. We know he is a real person, and a bad one at that. Maybe he’s used Grillo as an alias. If we just had some fingerprints to run . . . but we don’t,” Bo said.

“We don’t even know where to go to check for some,” Jim said.

“Wait, Jim. What about the jail?” Bo said with a sudden flash of brilliance. “If he was the one who went and had Joe beat up, maybe he left prints on the roster he signed.”

“If he’s the killer, that is,” Jim said. “And if there haven’t been so many other people sign the roster that his prints are indistinguishable.”

“Let’s see what we can learn at the jail when we get a free minute. Also, I think we should try to find out Bayle’s, Lucas’s, and Devonte’s blood types. I collected blood from Joe’s door and floor that was left there by whoever busted that square of glass out of Joe’s back door. That was probably Emil, but we should make sure. Someone may have been in there waiting when Emil came in. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner. Some detective I am.”

“Hey, partner. Give yourself some slack. You’re new at this,” Jim said.

“Yeah, but I still should have thought about it,” he lamented. “Another thing we should do is check for utilities, rent, home ownership, and so on for the elusive Mr. Grillo or whatever his name is. For now, we’ll refer to him as Grillo.”

They arrived at the sheriff’s department. Bo’s mind had turned to the matter he was coming in for. The two of them went straight to the sheriff’s office. His door was open, and he waved them in. “Good morning, guys,” he said without so much as a hint at a smile. “I wasn’t going to come in so early after such a late night, but my secretary called and said I had a letter that she thought I might want to see.”

He slipped a pair of latex gloves on and threw another pair to Bo, who began to pull them on.

“This letter is supposedly from Joe Whalen,” the sheriff said as he reached in a drawer and pulled out an envelope. “It’s addressed to me here, handwritten, and Joe’s address is in the return address location. It seems to have been mailed in Spanish Fork.” He pulled out the letter and handed the envelope to Bo.

Bo felt a twist in his stomach as he took the envelope and looked at it. “Yeah, this looks like Joe’s writing,” he said. He handed the envelope back, and the sheriff handed him the single sheet of paper that had been in the envelope. Reading the statement written there was almost more than he could handle. But he finished and handed it back to Sheriff Hermock. “It’s Joe’s handwriting. I’m certain of it. But the spelling is horrible. I’m confused about that.”

“What does he say, Bo?” Jim asked.

“It’s a confession,” Bo said, fighting hard not to let his emotions show. “Joe claims that he killed Emil Eifler, but what it’s really saying is that he didn’t kill him.”

“What are you talking about?” the sheriff said. “You just said that it was his handwriting.”

Bo stood up and stepped over to the sheriff’s desk. “Put the note here, and let’s all three read it together. I want to see if you guys notice what I noticed.”

They all leaned over the letter, and Bo read out loud.

Dear Sheriff Hermock,

I am riting this leter to you to cleer up the mater of the murdur of Emil Ifler. I’m sorry I lied to your oficers about it. I admit that I shot him with my own pistal and put his body in my trunk. He was making me get drugs from him when I didn’t want two. Then when I codn’t pay he was gong to take my stuf. I am not comng back to let you put me in prisan. But you can quit lokking for anybode else. I did it myself. But he had it comin.

Joe Whalen

When Bo had finished, he looked up.

“Joe is a terrible speller,” Jim noted.

“I noticed that too,” the sheriff agreed. “He even misspelled sheriff on the envelope. Is he trying tell us something?”

“You just made my point, Sheriff. Joe is an excellent speller. He reads a lot and had excellent grades in high school. The person who isn’t smart is the one who killed Emil and kidnapped Joe. Joe was forced to write this letter. By making those intentional errors, he was telling me that he was not writing it because he wanted to but because he had to. So we know now that the killer either is a bad speller himself or else assumed as you did, Sheriff, that Joe is a bad speller.”

“You’re sure of this?” Sheriff Hermock asked.

“Positive. Let’s get his sister down here. I’ll bet she has letters from him. If she does, we’ll see minimal spelling errors.”

“I believe you, Bo. Will she come down if you call her?”

“I know she would. But remember, Nattie is with her and one of your deputies,” Bo said.

“Call her. Have the deputy bring the two of them here in his patrol car.”

While they were waiting for Rosina to arrive, Bo asked the sheriff what he was going to do about Will Merianos shooting Lucas.

“I’ve turned it over to the county attorney to see if charges can be filed, but based on what we witnessed, Will can no longer work for me. I will be firing him at noon. I wish I’d fired him before.”

“I’m not sure what he was thinking,” Bo said, “but I have my suspicions. I think he was afraid Lucas might say something that would cinch Joe’s innocence, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. He accused Joe, and to save face, he wants the murderer to be Joe.”

“That’s my take as well,” the sheriff agreed. “And if the county attorney agrees, Will could be facing attempted murder charges.”

The men discussed the situation for some time before Rosina, Nattie, and the officer who’d been with them arrived.

Rosina soon confirmed what Bo had stated. “Joe is a good speller. He was forced to write that.”

“I’d like you to give a written statement to Bo and Jim stating what you just told me,” the sheriff said. “Bo can pick it up anytime. Right now, he and Jim have an interview to do at the hospital.”