Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [138]
“Gotta be careful. Hypothermia is dangerous stuff.”
He rested his forearms on his knees and studied Martinez, then me. “You have an inkling about why I’m here?”
“I’m not being flip when I say not a clue.”
He gave us that back-and-forth squinty, hard cop eye. Made me wonder who’d win in a stare down between him and Martinez.
“I’m here because BD Hoffman and Beth
McClanahan came to see me yesterday and told me everything. I’ve gotta say I’m impressed you dug that connection up, because I missed it.”
I waited.
“But it’s a dead end.”
“What do you mean?”
“DCI in Pierre called me this morning. They’ve been behind because of a flu epidemic and haven’t gotten to Melvin Canter’s case. Now Canter’s family is making a big stink about refusing an autopsy and wanting the body returned for burial.”
I wondered if I’d averted my eyes and started whistling would my part in that be too obvious.
“With the excessive postmortem wounds, including chunks getting chopped out of the corpse by the 491
tractor, and the obscenely large amounts of alcohol in the blood system, the docs at the VA can’t determine manner of death for Melvin Canter.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Never heard of this before. Never had this happen in all my years of law enforcement. They’ve closed the file as an accidental agricultural death, and the body is en route to the funeral home as we speak.” He sipped his coffee, staring at me. “Do you have anything you’d like to add to their official observations?”
Yeah. My half brother killed Melvin Canter, and he and my father worked together to cover it up. Putting my father or DJ in jail wouldn’t help anyone. I didn’t like it. But I liked it even less that the justice system had failed so many other times with children and there were multiple victims of Melvin Canter’s sexual assaults.
But . . . what if not addressing DJ’s problem or his violent reaction caused him to become a sociopath? Or a predator? Or allowed him to think he was above the law?
“Julie?” Martinez prompted.
I shook my head and said nothing.
“Case is closed then. Look. I don’t normally do this, nor do I let people wait this long to file after an incident has occurred, especially when it didn’t raise flags at the DA’s office, but I wanted to let you know that BD Hoffman pressed assault charges against Doug Collins when he was in yesterday.”
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“What?”
“For the incident in Bevel’s Hardware last week. I know Deputy John encouraged BD to drop it, but Beth McClanahan urged BD to follow through. Said she wishes she would’ve followed through years ago. She wondered how many kids she could’ve saved from humiliation and heartache if she would’ve done the right thing.
“So, I’ve asked Doug to turn himself in. Since he doesn’t have a record he probably won’t do much, if any, time in jail. Probably have to attend anger management classes. Seems fitting after all these years, don’t it?”
I nodded, even when I suspected it’d be too little too late.
Sheriff Richards stood. “Thanks for your help. I ain’t kidding when I say I hope it’s a long time before I see you in an official capacity again, Collins.”
“Likewise, Sheriff.”
I walked him to the door and watched him pull away in a Bear Butte County patrol car.
Martinez sent his bodyguards for pizza and wrapped his arms around my midsection. “You okay?”
“Were you worried? That he’d found out what’d gone down with Jackal and Trina and he’d come here to ask questions?”
“I wondered. Nothing is foolproof.”
“Nothing meaning covering up a murder?”
“Nothing meaning you didn’t kill Trina and neither did I. The guy who did was on the loose. You think if I couldn’t catch him that the sheriff could?”
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“I don’t know. You pissed off about Jimmer overstepping his bounds?”
“Some. I’ll have to keep an iron fist on the members so they don’t get any ideas about taking matters into their own hands or taking them to someone else. Jimmer won’t stomp on my toes