Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [78]
“Does Jason Hawley’s murder have anything to do with you deciding to run for sheriff ?”
“Yes.”
An exasperated noise rumbled in his chest at my curt response. “And?”
“And you want to know why I said yes? Not because of all the people claiming my father would be proud if I followed in his footsteps. Not because I have a burning desire to wear the snappy uniform and get paid to carry a gun again.” I locked my eyes to his. “What kicked me over was when I saw the customer lists you’d demanded, sitting unopened on your desk, days after Jason’s murder. I knew you wouldn’t give the case the time it deserved.”
The displeased muscle ticked in his jaw. “You don’t know why . . . you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“No? Are you denying you put a murder case on the bottom of your priority pile?”
“I’m damn tired of your accusations about my lack of dedication and direction as sheriff. Didn’t we go through this last year? With the cases involving Albert Yellow Boy, Levi, and Sue Anne White Plume? Didn’t you accuse me of apathy and ineptness then, too? Didn’t it come out in the end that I did my job?”
The jury was out on Dawson’s effectiveness as an investigator. True, Albert Yellow Boy’s death had been ruled an accident like he’d postulated. Theo Murphy had confessed to me about killing Sue Anne, not to Dawson. And my nephew Levi . . . well, I’d figured out who’d murdered him and lied to Dawson to cover for the person who’d killed the real killer.
“Yes, you got to the bottom of them eventually. But your focus has been elsewhere because of the election. I knew if you wouldn’t investigate Jason’s murder, I had to. No matter what. Even if it pissed you off.”
Even if it costs you something you’re only beginning to understand the value of ?
Where had that thought come from?
And Dawson was as angry as I’d ever seen him. “Why are you jumping headfirst into the deep end of the pool when you don’t have the first clue about what’s underwater?”
My bitchy rejoinder, “I oughta leave the investigating to a crackshot professional like you?” dried on my tongue when I recognized the frustration in his eyes.
“I understand how a shared military history with life-and-death situations creates a strong bond. I did my time. There are guys I would’ve died for.”
“Then you understand why I owe Jason. He saved me.”
“Is that what this is about? You think you could’ve saved him?”
I notched my chin higher. “Maybe.”
“Trust me, Jason Hawley was beyond saving the second he showed up in my county.”
“You didn’t know him.”
He shot back, “Neither did you.”
I started to argue, but Dawson jumped back in first and came out swinging.
“Has it ever occurred to you that you wouldn’t have died if Jason and Anna hadn’t coerced you into going into the club? If you’d said no instead of feeling pressure to help them maintain a lie, you would’ve been safe in the hotel where you belonged. Jason Hawley should’ve gone out of his way to bring you back to life because it was his goddamn fault you died.”
Talk about a slap in the face. I staggered back from the force of his harsh words.
“You never thought of it that way, did you?” he prodded.
No. Stunned, I snapped, “You’re still missing the point.”
“So are you.”
“Which is?”
“Sometimes you lose sight of the main objective when your emotions conflict with the hard truth.”
Was he talking about us? Or J-Hawk’s case?
“Sometimes you don’t have a fucking choice but to do what’s expected of you. Remember that if you win this election.”
“Dawson—”
“Bureaucracy sucks. It can crush you. Ruin you. Destroy trust. Damage something promising, something good, something real. For what? Who does it benefit? Who does it hurt? Ask yourself that when this is all over, Mercy.”
Dawson set his cup on the kitchen table and stormed out, leaving me as confused as ever.
SEVENTEEN
The inside of Anna’s Land Rover resembled a traveling rummage sale.
“Where to?” she asked, poking the buttons on her GPS.
“The elementary