Cheating Eyes

So far, Miranda has been raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie has returned to town, she is worried he will try to take his son back. But, now, a teacher has been murdered and Dougie seems to be the prime suspect.

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I show up at the Sheriff's office bearing gifts. I have a huge bag of donuts, éclair's, bear claws and a jug of coffee for them. I know they have coffee there already, the smell of it will knock you down as soon as you open the door. This is real coffee. Fresh beans ground with a hint of cinnamon tossed in for good measure. When I set the spread up, they all but hoist me up on their shoulders.

Mitch meanders out of his office and eyes me with what I think is suspicion. "What do we have here?" He folds his arms across his chest and rocks back on his heels. "Why would you come bearing gifts, Miranda?"

"Because, I think you all deserve it. Because I know each and everyone of these wonderful law enforcement officers," I say, leaving the last words hanging as I wonder how to phrase my next statement.

"I feel like there is something else you want to say. Am I right?"

I try to flash an innocent smile but I can tell he isn't buying it. "I have a favor."

Mitch holds up his hands. "Everybody, put the donuts down and step away from the table. Miranda is bearing gifts under false pretenses."

I grab his hand and haul him towards his office. "Y'all enjoy the donuts," I call out as we step into Mitch's office. "Jack ass!" I snap. "Yes, I have a favor. Yes, I realize you are going to tell me no, but I'm asking anyway."

"Ask. And just remember, don't act all surprised if I do say no." He sits on the edge of his desk, arms still folded in front of him.

"Can I see the crime scene photos that were taken the other night?"

"Why?"

"Because I think Dougie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Mitch smiles. "Don't you mean Dennis Tomlin was in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

I look at the framed awards and certificates that adorn the walls in Mitch's office. I know he's a good cop. But, they don't necessarily mean he's always right. "Of course he was. But I really think Dougie was stopping to help him."

Mitch's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "The guy who ruined Tomlin's high school reputation. They guy who said enough trash to people that he knew would act out on his information, that they vandalized the victim's car? That guy?"

"It was dark. He may not have known it was Tomlin. Besides, Dougie wouldn't just drive by someone who was in distress. He may be an ass, but he's a human being."

"I can't let you look at them. It's unethical and I really don't want you butting into our investigation." He steps around his desk and shuffles a few papers then grabs a manila folder and lays it in the center of his desk. "I need to go talk to a man about a horse. Shouldn't be gone for more than seven minutes," he says, tapping his wristwatch and glancing towards the clock on the wall. "If I come back and you are searching my desk for this folder right here, I will have to arrest you. Understand?"

I try not to smile. "Yes, Officer, I understand."

He leaves me in there, closing the door and giving me a little bit of precious time to do my own investigating.

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I sit in the parking lot of the Sheriff's office scribbling things onto the back of my car's owner's manual because I can't find a single piece of paper in my cluttered and filthy car. I don't want to forget what I saw. I keep thinking about the anonymous caller who reported seeing Dougie swinging his hammer on the windshield. Maybe she saw someone else hitting the windshield. But, the hammer was found in Dougie's hand. If Dougie was hitting the windshield, who snuck up on him and hit him in the back of the head? Why didn't the woman identify herself?

I close my eyes and think about the pictures of Tomlin's car. The spray painted words seem to crowd my head and I force myself to focus on the other parts of the picture. The driver's door was open, the windshield shattered and splintered but not completely knocked out. Then I remember the passenger door. It wasn't open, but it was sitting out like someone had hastily closed it, yet not given the act enough force. It was ajar enough where you would have to bump it with your hip to close it properly. Maybe someone was in the car with him. Maybe he was seeing a man on the side and the woman was this man's wife.

I settle back in the seat and draw in a deep breath to focus. I'm going down the rabbit hole with what if's. Once Dougie wakes up, I'll be able to ask him questions.

I drive to the hospital and make my way to Dougie's room. He is still unconscious. I stand over him and instinctively reach down and brush his hair off of his face. "You know, you're about the biggest jack ass I've ever known. But, you gotta pull through this. Waylon needs you. Don't forget about your son, Dougie."

I sit down in the chair beside him and settle back to wait.