Page 39 of Trace of Doubt
“He’s investigating it.” Denton walked to the door.
Why hadn’t the town’s good sheriff revealed that info earlier? “If I had a suspect for the threats, I’d tell the sheriff. You and Officer Hughes are a pair.” I gestured him out the door and secured the lock behind him.
I would not get much sleep tonight. My kaleidoscope held so many shades of gray, a mix of life and death, that the idea of adding color to my life faded with each passing hour.
25
DENTON
I had slept hard as though the adageconfession is good for the soulapplied to a weary body too. Not even a dream to interrupt my rest. Except I woke with guilt raging through me like a fever. I rode Big Red for an hour and thought about Shelby. If I were into God like my parents and grandparents, I’d do the prayer thing. But that would mean I’d stopped blaming Him for the mess of the world. The irony of it all lay in Shelby’s transformation. Had she morphed into the woman of today because of her own determination... or the Jesus-thing?
My horse took me by Shelby’s cabin as though I needed to ensure she’d gone to work without any problems. I knocked on the door, and nothing greeted me but singing birds and a distant cow. Now what? If this were a regular case, I’d have my strategy memorized.
Amy-Jo’s Café served up a tasty breakfast...
An hour later, I sat in a booth and gave the waitress my order. Shelby stood behind the bakery case. Did she feel comfortableappeasing customers like she’d done in her younger days? Or did the memories bring back what she longed to forget? In the midst of the busy morning, Amy-Jo waved at me, and I waved back. Had Shelby told her about my deceit? Probably not, or the woman would have tossed me out of her café.
My attention returned to Shelby. She gave the customer a tender smile, genuine but sad, and melancholia emitted from her blue-gray eyes. Her smooth face and haunting beauty hid her past and present fears. I caught her gaze, and her features tightened. She didn’t look my way again, and I couldn’t blame her.
I wanted to offer her wisdom and encouragement, but what? How could one woman get under my skin in such a short time? Yet I’d known her for years, followed her every tragedy, new development, and change.
The gift shop carrying Shelby’s jewelry raised my curiosity, and I ventured over there until my breakfast arrived. Last night Shelby had been working on her latest design, but asking her about them didn’t hit the appropriate mark. A necklace dangled from a display overSimply Shelby. The dark wire framing an amber-and-brown stone looked well-crafted to me. Each piece had a name and a corresponding Bible verse. Shelby struck me as a deep soul determined to show a new woman. I admired that.
I returned to the booth and eyed the breakfast before me. Hungry as a growing boy, I finished bacon, eggs, hash browns, and two flaky biscuits oozing with apple butter. The food filled my belly with more satisfaction than I deserved.
Outside in the sunshine, I tried to breathe in the fresh air. But a cloud of remorse for the times I’d upset Shelby hovered over me, and I couldn’t leave without apologizing. I retraced my steps and waited until the last customer received his pastry.
Shelby blinked. “What would you like?” Cold and formal.
“I’m sorry. Right from the beginning when we met face-to-face, I’d misjudged you, and I violated your privacy.” I paused to pull together a shred of professionalism. “I repeat, I believe you’reinnocent of embezzlement.” I left the café a second time, not needing her reply, only to be heard.
I dropped by Sheriff Wendall’s office and relayed last night’s conversation with Shelby. He complimented me on my adherence to the truth. Not sure how I felt about his attaboy, but I thanked him anyway.
“The card left at Shelby’s cabin is minus any identifying fingerprints.” The sheriff eyed me with a generous dose of disdain, which I deserved. “For the record, and I’m tellin’ you this out of the kindness of my heart, I requested the FBI to do the handwritin’ analysis.”
I could request the report through my secure access. “Thanks. I’ll keep you posted on what happens on my end.”
“That would be an improvement.” He chuckled and I joined him. “Ya know, Denton, I was raised to believe a man has two choices—right or wrong. Nothin’ in between. Officer Hughes will no longer work any incidents related to Shelby.”
I understood perfectly.
Outside, Randy Hughes stopped me in the parking lot, wearing his typical frown and bad-cop swagger. He had watched too many cop movies depicting law enforcement as worse than the criminals. He nodded at the building housing the sheriff’s department. “Why were you here?”
“Personal.”
“My house, my business.”
“Not when my taxes pay your salary.”
Hughes swore. “I can make life real hard for you.”
I turned. “It’s FBI Special Agent McClure. I wouldn’t advise threatening a federal agent.”
Hughes’s face reddened while satisfaction swirled through me.
A nudging urged me to call Mike Kruse, my former partner. Fifteen years ago, we worked the embezzlement side of Shelby’s case. We’dtalked several times over the years—more like I contacted him when I needed his input. He now worked the civil rights division in Dallas. Mike responded on the first ring. We swapped small talk about life, his approaching retirement, family, and golf games until he asked for the real reason I’d called.
“Unless you’re dying or getting married, something’s speaking louder than your words.”
