“What! No... I mean Ten-Four. Shea out.”
He felt sick to his stomach. He realized that he had felt something stronger than just professional interest in this case. But something was not sitting right with him. He took a deep breath and tried to shake his head clear.
He returned to the corridor of the barn. He looked at the fresh dirt strewn on the ground and the various markings he saw scuffed about. Large boot prints were mixed with hoof marks that led both up and down the corridor. Two markings, almost like smaller footprints, at the base of the ladder to the loft caught his eye and he walked over to take a closer look.
A sudden movement knocked a hay bale off its perch in a far corner of the loft. It thudded softly down from the igloo.
Reflex. Shea pulled his gun and aimed directly at the disturbance, knees slightly bent, both hands outstretched in front of him. He assumed the ready position and aimed without making a sound. Now he waited for another cue which would tell him whether to discharge his weapon or not.
The sound of raised voices distracted him. “Oh Jesus, No. No. Jessica a murderah?” Jason’s wail filled the barn. “She coulda never have done dis. She loved Gus like a father. And what happened to Gus only an animal woulda had the strength to do that. No sir, no sir! I’d put my money on a dif’rent hoss than that one.”
Shea listened to the words of the groom and looked up the shaft of his gun into the hayloft. A gray barn cat skittered across the bales. He slowly relaxed the hammer cock of the weapon and placed the gun back into its holster. “Coogan!” he called as he turned away, “Forensics ID’d the body from the tavern. It was Jessica Wyeth.”
“AH! Jeeesus!” Jason’s wails increased in pitch and tragedy. “No! No! Not Jessica! Not our little Jessie! One minute she’s a murderah and the next she dead! No! Ah Jesus! I just can’t understand dis no more. Ah! Jesus!” Jason’s lament was sent echoing through the barn. The horses shifted nervously in their stalls.
Coogan stopped and stared coolly at Shea. A split second later he glanced at his watch and smiled. “Well, that’s it then. The only suspect is dead. Case closed. Let’s get back to the station.”
Shea’s gaze drifted from Coogan to Jason and then back to Coogan. Flecks of hay and manure clung to the detective’s imported leather shoes. He noted that whatever Coogan had been looking for it must have been pretty damned important.
“Yeah, right. That’s it. There is nothing more I can do.” He barely succeeded at hiding his contempt. Catching himself, he continued, forcing his tone to be congratulatory. “I guess this is one for the books. Nice job, Coogan. I really have to hand it to you. I never would have sewn up this one so tight and so fast. I just know the citizens of Hamilton really owe you one.”
Coogan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the young cop. “Thanks. I’ll remember you said that.”
It was night before Jessica dared to move again. Her body ached from being in one position for so many hours. Slowly and carefully she began to straighten her arms and legs. Her stealth was partly to guard against any other bales of hay from falling on her and partly because she was so stiff she was afraid she would scream out in pain if she moved too fast. She had locked herself into one position immediately after the first bale of hay fell. From that point, she was in the middle of a house of cards. One additional movement at the wrong time and everything would have come crashing down on her.
Her forced stillness meant her thoughts were free to thrash about. She tried to put the pieces together in some way that she could grasp and comprehend. The past two days were growing fuzzier, marked by broad strokes of memories of seeing Gus dead and being covered with blood herself. There was more to it than that. The rough fragments of memories she had the day before were slipping away. In their place, the
He felt sick to his stomach. He realized that he had felt something stronger than just professional interest in this case. But something was not sitting right with him. He took a deep breath and tried to shake his head clear.
He returned to the corridor of the barn. He looked at the fresh dirt strewn on the ground and the various markings he saw scuffed about. Large boot prints were mixed with hoof marks that led both up and down the corridor. Two markings, almost like smaller footprints, at the base of the ladder to the loft caught his eye and he walked over to take a closer look.
A sudden movement knocked a hay bale off its perch in a far corner of the loft. It thudded softly down from the igloo.
Reflex. Shea pulled his gun and aimed directly at the disturbance, knees slightly bent, both hands outstretched in front of him. He assumed the ready position and aimed without making a sound. Now he waited for another cue which would tell him whether to discharge his weapon or not.
The sound of raised voices distracted him. “Oh Jesus, No. No. Jessica a murderah?” Jason’s wail filled the barn. “She coulda never have done dis. She loved Gus like a father. And what happened to Gus only an animal woulda had the strength to do that. No sir, no sir! I’d put my money on a dif’rent hoss than that one.”
Shea listened to the words of the groom and looked up the shaft of his gun into the hayloft. A gray barn cat skittered across the bales. He slowly relaxed the hammer cock of the weapon and placed the gun back into its holster. “Coogan!” he called as he turned away, “Forensics ID’d the body from the tavern. It was Jessica Wyeth.”
“AH! Jeeesus!” Jason’s wails increased in pitch and tragedy. “No! No! Not Jessica! Not our little Jessie! One minute she’s a murderah and the next she dead! No! Ah Jesus! I just can’t understand dis no more. Ah! Jesus!” Jason’s lament was sent echoing through the barn. The horses shifted nervously in their stalls.
Coogan stopped and stared coolly at Shea. A split second later he glanced at his watch and smiled. “Well, that’s it then. The only suspect is dead. Case closed. Let’s get back to the station.”
Shea’s gaze drifted from Coogan to Jason and then back to Coogan. Flecks of hay and manure clung to the detective’s imported leather shoes. He noted that whatever Coogan had been looking for it must have been pretty damned important.
“Yeah, right. That’s it. There is nothing more I can do.” He barely succeeded at hiding his contempt. Catching himself, he continued, forcing his tone to be congratulatory. “I guess this is one for the books. Nice job, Coogan. I really have to hand it to you. I never would have sewn up this one so tight and so fast. I just know the citizens of Hamilton really owe you one.”
Coogan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the young cop. “Thanks. I’ll remember you said that.”
It was night before Jessica dared to move again. Her body ached from being in one position for so many hours. Slowly and carefully she began to straighten her arms and legs. Her stealth was partly to guard against any other bales of hay from falling on her and partly because she was so stiff she was afraid she would scream out in pain if she moved too fast. She had locked herself into one position immediately after the first bale of hay fell. From that point, she was in the middle of a house of cards. One additional movement at the wrong time and everything would have come crashing down on her.
Her forced stillness meant her thoughts were free to thrash about. She tried to put the pieces together in some way that she could grasp and comprehend. The past two days were growing fuzzier, marked by broad strokes of memories of seeing Gus dead and being covered with blood herself. There was more to it than that. The rough fragments of memories she had the day before were slipping away. In their place, the
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