CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It was dark when I returned home. Wood was standing on my front porch, accompanied by two sheriff’s deputies along with a woman wearing a suit and another man in plain clothes wearing a badge and a holstered pistol. Wood shook his head as I walked up the porch steps. “Rocket, I had nothing to do with this, and as your attorney I’m instructing you to keep your mouth shut.” As he said that, I noticed two other people were unloading the contents of my pantry and freezer into coolers in the back of one of the deputy’s cars.

The woman approached me and said, “Mr. Rising?”

I didn’t respond.

She was nearly a foot shorter than me. She continued. “Does the name Dalton Rogers ring a bell?”

I studied her as a crew of people gathered around her. I noticed Wood glancing at my hand. “I’m sorry. And you are?”

“Deborah Cunning. District Attorney.” She proffered to the man wearing plain clothes to her right. “And this is Zane Adams, Assistant District Attorney.”

I took Wood’s advice and kept my mouth shut.

She handed me a piece of paper. “This is a search warrant for your premises. Mr. Mason informed us that he was missing some groceries. A lot of groceries. Now I can’t prove that you took them, but I’m pretty sure I can prove that Dalton Rogers did. And I’m curious how it is that you came to possess them. Given that their retail value exceeds a thousand dollars, that is grand theft. And while I’m at it, just what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Rogers?” She slid on her glasses, propped her hand on her hip, and waited.

I spoke slowly. “Am I under arrest?”

She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.” When she reached the bottom step, she stopped but didn’t turn to look at me. “Wood, please inform your client that he’s not allowed to leave this county.”

Wood didn’t respond.

She turned and slid her glasses down on her nose. “Dunwoody, I want verbal confirmation in front of witnesses that I have served you notice and that you are to inform your client. Do you understand?”

He frowned. “Debbie, I heard you the first time. So, with all due respect, go pull your panties out of a wad.”

The deputy behind Debbie smirked and then quickly erased it off his face. They loaded up and created a dust storm driving out. When the dust cleared, Tux crawled out from beneath the cabin and stood next to me, sniffing the air.

I scratched my head. “That’s one blitz I did not see coming.”

Wood shook his head. “Me neither.” He turned to me. “Where’d you get all that food? I mean, if you were hungry—”

I waved him off. “Dee was taking it to the food bank. Showed up with a van full. Offered it. I was ’bout to gnaw my own arm off. He said it was all expired, couldn’t be sold, so I loaded up.”

Wood looked at me. “Something’s fishy here.”

“Tell me about it.”

He glanced at my hand and raised his eyebrows.

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

When I finished telling him the story, he spat. “That woman has bigger gonads than ten men put together.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket and said, “I better get to the office. No telling what Debbie is cooking up. I’ll be in touch.”

I picked up Tux, and the two of us lay in my hammock on the porch. I had lots of questions and few, if any, answers. Seconds later, Ray appeared at the edge of the yard. Hands in his pockets. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, so I asked. “How long you been there?”

“Long enough.”

He walked across the yard, climbed the porch, sat next to me, and stared out across the yard. Content to sit in the quiet, he did. Finally, I asked, “You heard?”

He nodded. “Word spreads pretty quick ’round here when it comes to you.”

“I don’t suppose you walked all the way over here in the dark to tell me that.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I did not.” A pause. He put his hand on my shoulder. “You know I been at that school a long time?”

His tone of voice caught my attention. “Yeah.”

“And that means I have keys to every door.”

I nodded.

He pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and began picking at his teeth. “And when the Sisters need a lock changed, they bring me in ’cause they trust an old man with arthritic hands.”

“Okay.”

“The records room is hidden in one of the back offices. It’s got three locks on it. I got keys to all of them. Yesterday, I got to thinking about Dalton Rogers and what might be in his file. Just wondering if anything in there could help him. A starting place. So I rummage through the file and there’s no file. As in, there was one, but it’s gone. His name is on the file, but most of the contents are missing. Then I got a call yesterday afternoon from Miss Audrey ’cause she had this weird feeling like somebody had been in her place. Rummaging around. Said she’d thought it many times.” He looked at me. “I didn’t have the courage to tell her it was you.”

“You know about that?”

“Matthew, I’m old, not dumb.”

“You tell her?”

“ ’Course not.” He kept picking at his teeth. “But then I went over to change her lock. She was out in her garden. I walked over to her bedroom window looking out across the incredible world she’s created and I just stood there marveling at what she’s done and there she is out there toiling in that sun. Just working away and then I turned to go and when I did, I noticed a file folder sticking out from underneath the edge of the bed.” He scratched his head and turned toward me. “So, given what I know about her and given what I know about Dalton and given what I know about how she’s poured her life into him and given that I knew that file was missing, I let my curiosity get the best of me, and I slid it out. Sure enough, it was his file.”

If I was mildly interested when he first started talking, he had my full attention now.

He stood, pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped both eyes. He then pulled a single key from his shirt pocket and set it on the steps next to me. Without another word, he turned and disappeared in the woods.

It was after dinner when I crept up to Audrey’s window. The last couple of weeks, she’d been skipping dinner and going to bed earlier. Sleeping twelve to fourteen hours a day had become her medication. A single light in the bathroom cast a dim light across the room. Audrey lay in bed, mouth open, body limp. Her self-induced coma. I used Ray’s key, let myself in, and tiptoed to the edge of the bed. She never moved. I slid my hand beneath the mattress and the box spring and found the folder where Ray had left it. The name read DALTON ROGERS. I carried it to the bathroom and opened it. Midway through, I found the birth certificate. There, in black and white, the words jumped off the page.

The blindside was more than I’d expected.

I sat on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes. I could not believe it. Refused to. My mind raced. How? Then I read the date, backed into the calendar, and the light clicked on. I closed my eyes and sat rubbing my temples. How long had she known?

I set the folder on her table, the birth certificate lying on top. I locked the door behind me and started walking. I wanted her to know that I knew.