“Eh, it’s okay. I’m sick and tired of being in bed all day, anyway. I’ll be down in a minute, Sheriff Tom.”
Tom shrugged and made his way back to the kitchen. “It’s a good thing your house is one level. That boy is so hard-headed, he’d fall down the stairs trying to move too fast.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “He insists on coming to the kitchen and getting some coffee.”
Jennifer shook her head with a smile. “He’s just like Shane. Shane was always hard-headed, too.” Her words held a touch of sadness. Thirty years, and she still missed him.
Tom fingered his hat. Emotions made him uncomfortable. “You could say he gets it from his mom, too,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “I’m just stubborn, not hard-headed,” she quipped.
Caleb joined them then, and they all sat at the table with steaming cups of coffee. Tom waited for Caleb to get in a few sips before he started his interrogation.
“Caleb, I have to ask you a few questions, so I can put this whole case to rest. Are you up for answering them?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Caleb blew on his coffee and sipped.
Tom nodded and took a minute to sip his own coffee. He pulled out a pen and small spiral notebook and opened it to a blank page. He also pulled out an old tape recorder, turned the tape over inside it and pressed play. Jennifer covered her amusement with her coffee mug. Tom said she was hard-headed, but he was the one who refused to modernize his interrogation tools.
“This is the initial questioning of Caleb Archer by Sheriff Thomas Greyson concerning the accident that occurred along Rickdale Road and Main Street.”
“So much formality for a little accident?” Caleb said. His eyebrows buried themselves into his eyes and his nose.
“Someone got hurt in that accident, Caleb.” Tom fidgeted. He hadn’t expected Caleb to be emotional.
“Yeah, me.”
“Caleb Archer, let it be known that you are being questioned because someone else was hurt the night of your crash. Do you understand why you are being interrogated?”
Caleb grimaced. His eyes rolled to the ceiling. He was going to be forced to talk about the whole Mae White thing, whether he wanted to or not. He could feel it. “Fine. Yes, I understand.”
“Please tell me your version of what happened that night. Start from where you were traveling from, include where you were heading, and how your truck ended up smashed into a tree.”
“I left work around 6:00 p.m. like I always do and came to Ma’s for dinner.”
The sheriff shook his head. “Ma?”
Caleb rolled his eyes again. Tom knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Let the record show Caleb Archer is referring to Jennifer Archer as ‘Ma.’ Please continue, Mr. Archer,” Tom interrupted.
Jennifer swallowed a giggle and hid her face behind her mug. If this continued, she’d have to excuse herself. She wouldn’t be able to contain her mirth. So much formality for such a little town.
“When Ma and I finished dinner, I left, heading for my apartment in town. Ma called me on my cellphone, and we spoke for a few minutes. I had just disconnected with her and turned onto Main Street when the fog rolled in so thick my headlights couldn’t even penetrate it. I saw something move, so I swerved to avoid it. All I remember after that is the truck stopped, my head pounding, and my chest being on fire. I called 9-1-1 and woke up in the hospital later.”
“Let’s go back to the fog. You stated you saw something move. Can you please describe what you saw?” Tom asked after a sip of coffee. He pushed his empty mug aside and covered it with his hand when Jennifer offered a refill. “Please feel free to take your time.”
“I didn’t see much, but what I remember was small, like a rabbit or a doe. It just shot out of the fog in front of my truck. If it had jumped out any later, I would have hit it.”
“You don’t remember hitting it?”
“No. I would have felt that. There were no thumps like I ran over something. There was nothing pinging off my front bumper. I don’t remember feeling anything until the truck hit whatever it slammed into, which was apparently something big enough to total it.”
“The big oak at the intersection,” Tom answered. “You hit it square on. I’m surprised you don’t have more injuries considering.”
“So why are you here? The sheriff doesn’t usually worry about road kill,” Caleb asked. He had a feeling he would regret it, but he suddenly had to know.
“As I said at the beginning, someone else was hurt. We don’t know at this time if it was involved with your accident or not, but we found the body of a drifter not far from where you crashed.” Tom held up his finger. “Interview with Caleb Archer concluded,” he said before shutting the tape recorder off. “Now we can talk off the record.”
“Talk about what?” Caleb pressed.
“This drifter. It’s just strange. We hardly ever have drifters here in Rickdale to begin with, and it seems like the last time we had a drifter, you befriended him, and he stayed.”
“You mean Duke.” The sheriff nodded, and Caleb continued. “He’s stranded in Texas. I was actually thinking about him when I crashed. Ma and I were arguing about my leaving to pick him up. That’s why she called after I left.”
Jennifer nodded. “But we disconnected before he crashed. He didn’t tell me where he was, only that he was almost home.”
Tom nodded. “That makes sense. He was almost to town. I don’t think you did anything wrong, Caleb, and I’m going to say as much on my report. I just needed to dot the i’s and cross the t’s. I hope you understand.”
“I do. I’m just really confused over what this drifter has to do with me.” Caleb held his cup out, and Jennifer refilled it.
“My theory is that this drifter must have been near the tree when you wrecked and got hit by something flying off your truck. He’s-ahem-he’s unrecognizable. His face is torn to pieces. The coroner is trying to find his dental work, but his fingerprints aren’t in the system. We have no idea who he is, how he got here, or what happened to him. Your truck has no blood on the body, just inside where you hit your head.” Tom scratched his head. “The last time we had a drifter like that was thirty years ago.”
Caleb gripped his mug and tried to maintain his poker face. He knew exactly where the discussion was headed, and he couldn’t stop it then if he tried.
Chapter Seven
“Have you heard from Garvey?” Edna’s deep voice rumbled from the receiver.
“No. He hasn’t shown up, his car is still in the parking lot, and he hasn’t answered his phone,” Everly said. “Jim’s still cooking, but he has to leave soon. What am I supposed to do? I can’t cook and serve. I mean, I can, but it would be a very slow process, especially since I have no idea how to run the kitchen equipment.”
“I’m on my way in. Jim has to go open the bar. I’m going to stop by Garvey’s house and rouse him. Can you handle the cafe until I get there? It should be down time.”
Everly agreed, and Edna hung up. She knew someday she would regret putting Garvey in charge of the cafe, but he’d done such a great job the last five years this was still unexpected. Edna sighed. She had no idea what she was going to do with Garvey, but she hoped he had a good excuse. It troubled her that his car was at the cafe, but he was not.