After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell until he's discovered dead.

On the other side of town, Ty lies in a hospital bed, falsely accused of drug trafficking, hijacking, and so much more.  The proof of his innocence lies murdered on a dark country road.

Can either case be justly solved?

**********

 

Peter eased the freshly washed Mustang onto the graveled parking lot. Typically, he wouldn’t have driven the convertible to the Last Chance, risking the dust or a ding in the shiny candy-apple red paint. After Nancy’s cryptic phone call, he’d tossed his golf clubs, canceled his afternoon plans, and raced to the bar.

He parked in the rear parking lot, preferring not to announce to the town his location. The Last Chance was a decent place, but its clientele didn’t rub elbows with the country club crowd. Business was business, but that was something no one needed to be aware of except him and Nancy.

After leaving the Last Chance, Jeremy had moved his SUV across the street, parking it beneath the branches of a tree. A row of pink flowering Rose of Sharon conveniently blocked the road but left a decent view of the bar entrance. His wait hadn't been long. 

Too big to fail meet small enough to jail. 

Jeremy chuckled, remembering the motto he’d learned when he’d first joined the force. He watched the red mustang pull off the highway.

Your day is coming. It looks like the big fish just swallowed the worm.

Jeremy punched in Hank’s number and listened for him to answer. 

“Hello,”

“It’s showtime, my friend.”

“Wow, that was quick.” 

“I suspect our casual conversation might have caused her to sweat a little. Sweet Nancy was dialing Rotello’s number before I left the bar.” Jeremy chuckled. “He just arrived. He thinks he’s slick parking that shiny convertible behind the bar. Duh! It’s the first place I’d look.”

“That’s because you’re the good guy, or so you tell me.” Having worked with Jeremy (Garth) on another case, Hank respected him in his profession and as a man. “It’ll take me about fifteen minutes. Will that be long enough for her to fill Rotello in?”

“Oh, yeah, the conversation’s going to be short and sweet.”

“Great! I’ll be in touch.” Hank hung up the phone. Opening his desk drawer, he reached for his Glock and slipped it into his shoulder holster. “Can’t be too careful.” He didn’t think Peter Rotello was the gun-carrying kind, but Nancy … now she might be a different story. 

Hank didn’t expect anything to get out of hand, but he was a cautious man. In his twenty-five years of service with RPD, he’d learned that one never underestimates a crook. 

**********

Peter walked through the storage area and stopped at the office door. He didn’t see Nancy, so he continued into the bar. 

“Let me get that for you.” Peter grabbed a case of liquor from Nancy’s hands and carried it to the end of the bar. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“What do you suggest? Jesse’s dead, and Daisy’s on a road trip out of town.”

“Hire somebody.” Peter grabbed a beer and walked around the end of the bar. He preferred to sit where he could see who entered. Besides, it was safer to talk there.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been busy working. Some of us can’t spend our afternoons on the golf course.”

“My, my… you are touchy this morning. The cowboy got under your skin, huh?”

“Don’t underestimate this cowboy. I have a feeling there’s more to him than the eye can see.”

“So what if he’s the guy they sent to check on things? It wasn’t our fault Jesse, and his bandito, went crazy, now was it?” Peter took a long swallow of his beer. “What exactly did he say?”

“Said his boss was an impatient man. He was worried about doing something he didn’t want to do.” Nancy poured herself a bourbon. “Something about cleaning house.”

“Big deal. So this dude meets us and gets a little heavy-handed. What’s he going to do, shoot me? That would be dumb.  They wouldn’t ever get another shipment, now would they?” 

Nancy opened the case of liquor and lined the bottles along the rear shelf. She was worried, a trait she rarely exposed.

“He mentioned he saw the press conference on the news. Said Dwight didn’t look like a guy playing with a full deck.”

“Well, that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? He was seriously injured.” Peter shook his head and laughed. “Drunk and stupid. Got to hand it to you, Nancy. Thanks to you, he had the crowd eating out of his hands.”

A smile washed across Nancy’s face. “He did, didn’t he? Poor Dwight couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, he was a drunken old fool.”

“Seriously though, Peter, you aren’t going to be able to finesse this guy. He said his boss likes to shoot first and talk later. They want their product.”

“So, we give it to them.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s sitting in the evidence room at police headquarters. We have nothing to give him.”

“Guess we set up another hijacking. It’s not a problem.” Peter slid off the barstool. “Matter of fact, Dad’s going to be out of town for a few days. It would be a great time to do it.”

“With who?”

“Leave that to me.”  

“Good morning. Didn’t see any cars. Are you open?”  Hank’s six-foot-two frame filled the doorway. The charcoal gray St. Laurent suit announced affluent while his salt ‘n pepper hair, easy smile, and hazel eyes said delicious. 

Peter studied Hank. The cowboy hadn’t rattled his chain, but this new stranger looked all business. 

“Sure, come on in. What can I get you?” Nancy moved closer to the other end of the bar, smiling. “You look like a Jack man to me?”

“Good call. I’ll take a Jack with a splash, and I do mean splash, of coke.”

“My kind of guy. Why ruin good liquor with the sweet stuff.” Nancy stepped away to get Hank’s drink. 

“See ya later, Nancy.” Peter turned to leave, directing his path, so he moved closer to Hank. He recognized the slight bulge underneath the expensive suit. 

“Don’t rush out on account of me.” Hank reached out to shake Peter’s hand. “I’m just looking to cool down.”

Peter accepted Hank’s hand. The handshake was firm, almost a test of strength.

“Name’s Peter Rotello. Don’t think I’ve seen you around. New in town?” 

“Not really. I’m Hank Armato. I was a detective for RPD for twenty-five years. Retired but sitting on the porch with the wife got old fast. Running a private investigator service now.”

“In Columbia? The only thing to investigate in this town is who’s sleeping with who. Oh, maybe that’s your gig, huh?”

“Naw, crime's my passion. Drugs, murders, you know, sniffing out the bad guy.”

“Bad guy, huh? Maybe we can help?” Peter was getting nervous. Something about Hank made him edgy. “You mind me asking what kind of case you’re on now?”

Nancy set the glass of bourbon on a coaster. “Jack with a splash.” 

“Thanks.” Hank took a sip. “Hmm, good-tasting liquor.”

“Nancy, Mr. Armato …”

“Hank will do just fine.” He smiled at Nancy.

“Hank tells me he’s a private investigator.”

“Oh, really. Got any juicy gossip on the town folk?” Nancy wrinkled her nose. “News travels so fast around Columbia; it’s out of date before noon.”

“A friend of mine, Detective Santiago, maybe you heard of him.”

Nancy shifted her eyes toward Peter and then shook her head. “Can’t say that I have. How about you, Peter?”

“Not me. I stay as far away from the law as possible. Doubt I’d like wearing an orange jumpsuit.” It was evident Peter wasn’t comfortable with the conversation. 

“Not to worry. He’s got me tracking down a woman in a murder case.”

“A … a murder case?” Nancy’s hands were trembling. “You must be talking about Beth. Poor girl lost her mom and killed her dad. I actually feel sorry for her.”

“That’s why I’m on the case. A witness says there was another woman at the house.” Hank rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t have shared that information.”

“It’s safe with us. It’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to leave. The business won’t run without me, you know.” Peter nodded at Hank and walked briskly toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “Catch you later, Nancy.”

Nancy picked up the Jack Daniels and started to pour Hank another drink. Hank watched her for a moment, then put his hand over the glass. “Not for me, thanks. I’ve got work to do. What do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.” 

“Thanks. It was real nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll stop in again.”

“Great! I’ll look forward to that. Have a good day.” She watched Hank’s back disappear out the door. The liquor bottle slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. Nancy grabbed her stomach as the bile rose in her throat. She vomited in the bar sink.

Things weren’t looking good.