The socials

     Bradley and Patty came over. The 3 of them chatted as Patty took Sara to a bedroom to examine her. Then they set around the kitchen table as Sara filled out her report. 

     When they were alone, Dillon and Evie curled up on the couch watching all the social media video clips they could find of the revival. “The one time you need Sunshine Sue to be around,” Dillon hissed. “She’s not.” 

     Evie was a great help in identifying some of the people throwing. She didn’t know their names. But she connected objects to arms. Hands to arms. Arms to people. A few, neither of them could tell who threw what. 

     Evie sat up straight, “isn’t that Rebecca Ledbetter?”

     Dillon started the clip over and slowed it down. “I think you’re right.”

     “What is she throwing, a potato?”

     “Look how Sara reacts when it hits her.” Sara had opened her mouth wide, as if she was screaming. Or starting to cry. Before she bent over grabbing her thigh. 

     “Love her heart. No wonder she was in tears.”

     “You know, I might expect kids to do something like this. Everyone we have identified has been an adult.” He sighed, “are they protesting?”

     “Even if they are, ever heard of a peaceful protest?”

     “A female preacher?” He mindlessly asked. 

     “There are female preachers in the Bible. This,” she pointed at his tablet. “This isn’t Biblical, in my opinion.”

     “People get bent out of shape when you start messin’ with their religion. A lot of folks don’t believe women should be preaching.”

     “But to hurt someone?” Evie huffed. “They physically hurt her.”

     “You know when I start arrestin’ people, they are gonna start screaming religious freedom.”

      “There’s nuttin’ free about hurting someone. You don’t like the message, get up and walk out. Don’t kill the preacher.” Dillon looked at Evie grinnin’. “What?” She blushed. 

     “Gettin’ a little hot under the collar?”

     “Maybe. This is just wrong.”

     “I have something that will make you laugh.” Dillon shrunk what they had been watchin’ and opened a video he had saved on the tablet. It opened with a view out of a windshield. 

     “That’s Smith’s house?” Evie asked. Dillon moaned in acknowledgment. You could hear Dillon callin’ for her and identifying himself. He walked up the steps, was about to knock when Smith came runnin’ from the side of the house, waving a broom over her head, screaming. Dillon almost fell before jumping over the steps to get away from her. And Evie was right, Smith must not own a bra. Her eyes were bugged out. Mouth was contorted. As she swong her arms in one direction, her breasts went the other. Her hair was as wild as she was. Evie tried to conceal her laughter. “I’m sorry. She looks like a cartoon character. What was she doin’, makin’ shine?”

     “Maybe.”

Cattail

     Dillon had to change as soon as he got to the station. He had blood on his clothes. He tried his best not to break out in tears as the shower beat on his back. This was the first time, since he had been elected sheriff that a deputy had killed someone. Why on God’s green earth did Calvin beat Deek to death?  The sound of Deek’s laughter filled Dillon’s mind. Deek laughing at him as he tried to wrangle those cats. “You Beanpole,” Deek pointed and laughed. Dillon wasn’t amused by the act of chasin’ cats. 

     Deek had always lived in that trailer. It had belonged to his parents. When he was born, his parents refused to believe there was anything wrong with him. They sent him to school. Children are brutal. 

     His deputies had standin’ orders anytime they saw him out, ask him if he needed help. Be kind. That just wasn’t for Deek. That was for anyone. 

     Bradley spoke to Dillon as he was getting dressed in a clean uniform. “We have put Calvin on suicide watch. The department shrink is on the way.”

     “What kind of rage do you have to have to beat a man to death?” Dillon asked blankly. “He was havin’ relationship drama. Find her.”

     “On it.”

     As Dillon walked back to his office, the media fire storm had started. He saw through the windows, Deputy Banks gettin’ hammered by the media. First and foremost was Sunshine Sue. 

     Bank’s hadn’t gotten a word out of his mouth before the screaming started. He couldn’t get control of the crowd. The office gasped as Dillon strolled with purpose outside. 

     He placed a hand on Banks’ shoulder. The look on his face was one of desperation. The group shut up the minute Dillon appeared. “This community is hurtin’. We have lost a beautiful soul in Deek ‘Cattail’ Martin. As y’all know, information is limited. Deputy Banks will call for a formal press conference to release details.” To the casual onlooker, Dillon guided Banks back inside the station. But to Banks, Dillon was pushing him back inside. The flash of cameras, clicking noises and screaming followed the men inside. 

     Banks let out a long sigh, “thanks.”

     Dillon put his face in his hands. ‘Dear God, what was he going to do?’ He looked outside, the crowd was startin’ to disperse but who was still there? Sunshine Sue, talking into her phone. 

     Dillon locked eyes with Banks, who seemed to wilt at the realization of what his boss was thinking. 

Deputy Calvin

     Dillon was in good spirits as he bounced toward Smith’s. He hadn’t heard from her in a couple months. Even though she had a landline phone, forget about her answering it.  As he rounded a curve, his c.b. came to life. “Hey sheriff, whur u at?”

     “Just past Porter’s place, headin’ up to Smith’s.”

     “Can u swing by Cattail’s? He says there’s a pole-leese car at his trailer. Ain’t got no one ‘round. Described Calvin before the line went dead.” 

     It was the way Martha said dead that turned his heart to water. “On my way.” Sure enough, there was a car in front of Cattail’s trailer. When Dillon got out, he started hearing screaming, followed by muffled grunts. He radioed, “send in the cavalry.”  He opened the door to find Deputy Calvin on top of Cattail poundin’ away. Dillon grabbed him by his waistband, manhandling him out of the trailer, before throwing him in the back of his own car. Calvin was screaming the entire time. Dillon’s suv didn’t have a cage like the newest cars. He didn’t want this s.o.b. going anywhere. 

     Cattail was lying in the floor. Blood pouring from his nose and mouth. His face was swollen and bloody. “Deek, you hang in there buddy. A light box is on the way. Deek?”

     He moaned through a swollen mouth, “Beanpole?”

     “I’m here Deek.”

     “Why he mad? I not do nuttin’.”

     “I don’t know but I promise, I’ll find out.”

     “Bean,” Deek squeezed out.

     “Stay with me. Who’s gonna take care of the cats?” Dillon was almost in tears. He cleared his throat. “Deek, can you hear the light box?” The ambulance was getting closer with every passing second. 

     “I hear.” Deek whispered. With a shaky hand, he reached for Dillon. Dillon took Deek’s mangled hand in his. “Take care – cats.”

     Dillon knew Deek was gone. He didn’t feel the EMS personnel move him out of the way. All he could see was Deek playing in front of the courthouse with a cat and her kittens. Deek had talked Dillon into not taking them to the pound. But to help him gather them up so he could take them home. That’s how he got the nickname Cattail. He loved cats and they loved him. 

     Dillon was numb. Who would want to hurt Deek? He was simple. Some called him slow. He could function on his own. Once a month, someone from Sunshine Valley Keepers helped him sort out his medication. Clean in his place. He loved to mow as much as he loved cats. The little yard he had was immaculate. It was the other stuff he wasn’t good at. 

     People were filing in and out. Doing their jobs. He watched through a haze as EMS wrapped the body and took it out. 

     “Boss.” Did he hear that? “Boss.” The sound of breaking glass filled his head. He locked eyes with Bradley. Both men ran outside to find that Calvin had busted out the back window of the cruiser, through the bars. Clint and Tolliver were wrestling him out of the back of the car. Trying to secure his legs. Before they threw him in another cruiser. “Boss.”

     Dillon didn’t look at Bradley, “I’m okay.” He spoke as he wiped at the blood on his hands. 

The meeting

     It had been a month since the team from Frankforts last contact. Bradley was making sure to filter every new piece of news through them. They even knew about the plan to ‘poke the bear’. No one really seemed to notice that Dillon had taken 2 weeks off. But that’s the way he liked it. 

     Margaret sent him a message. Sunshine Sue had arrived. She’s recording. If she calls me and ‘old crow’ one more time, I’mma gonna throat punch her. Sir. Dillon couldn’t help but laugh. He answered her back. ‘Record this meeting. From the moment you bring her back. And I want her to know you’re doing it.’  Yes sir. Coming now. Dillon had a few tricks of his own. 

     Bradley was on patrol. Dillon was gonna make sure to cover his ass. Sue was annoyed even more when Margaret closed the door behind them. She pointed at the recorder, “old school.”

     Margaret sat in a corner in silence. The recorder on her lap. 

     Dillon was standing. Sue didn’t offer to shake his hand or say hi. As she sat, Dillon sat, saying, “Margaret, Sue.” He did it more for the recorder than he did to be nice to Sue. “I’m not sure why you are here.” He prayed he knew why she was sittin’ in his office but couldn’t lead her.

     She pulled an envelope from her bag, “these are the minutes to October’s council meeting that just happened to find their way into my hands. There’s 1 really great moment in here where Porter called you an ‘egg suckin’ sheriff’ that made me laugh. But the really fascinating part, for me.” She laid her hand on her chest. “Was when Rebecca Ledbetter accused the sheriff’s department of harassment.” She stopped waiting for Dillon to say something. But he didn’t. He just watched her with his years of experience and his I know you’re phishing face. 

     She continued, “I have a meeting with the judge executive later this morning, what will I find?”

     “Whatever you find, I would be grateful for a follow up.”

     “So in the minutes, the judge encouraged her to file a harassment complaint, did she?”

     “If she has, it has never been brought to my attention.”

     “Wouldn’t you want to know if a citizen, a woman, thought one of your officers was harassing her? I mean, it’s not a great time to be a cop at any level.”

     “We are aware of the nature of publicity departments are receiving.”

     “And?” She question with hostility. Dillon didn’t say a word. “What if this complaint had been one of rape, murder, or even aggravated assault?”

     Dillon locked eyes with her, “you wouldn’t be sittin’ here.”