Truth Be Told

“Marjorie?” Jo said.

“Jo Hunter! I heard they were trying to find you. No one told me they did and that you were back already.” She jumped up and came around to give Jo a hug. Jo awkwardly returned it. Had she forgotten how touchy-feely people were in the South?

“Goodness, April and I are on the phone all the time,” Marjorie said in a rush. “She didn’t tell me!”

“I just got here yesterday. She’ll be calling, I’m sure.” Jo glanced around. The place hadn’t changed much from the day old Sheriff Halstead had brought her in and listened to her account of the incident. Dismissing every word as a lie.

“Sam in?” she asked. If he were, would he see her? Take her statement and really read it?

“Sure is. He’s on the phone but should be finished soon. Have a seat. Where have you been all these years and what have you been doing?”

“I live in L.A.,” Jo said, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the visitor chairs.

“Hollywood?” Marjorie sat beside Jo. “Do you get to see movie stars all the time?”

Jo shook her head. “Sometimes I see one or two, but I’m not on that detail.”

“You’re a cop?” Marjorie guessed.

“Yup. Detective.” Jo said it with pride. She’d fought long and hard to get where she was, and she was damned proud of it.

“Isn’t that a kick? I bet Maddie’s as proud as a peacock about that. She must be so happy to have all her chicks back. We’re all pulling for her recovery, you know.”

“Thank you.” Jo was taken aback that Marjorie seemed to discount entirely the cloud under which she’d left.

“You here to talk about that night twelve years ago?” Marjorie asked, voice lowered.

“The sheriff said earlier I could come in and make a statement.”

“There wasn’t anything in the file,” Marjorie said, voice still low.

“You think Sam will let me look at the records?”

“Why, sure he will. He gave a copy to that Jack Palmer when he and April were hunting for you. There’s not much. I looked at it myself. Sheriff Halstead wasn’t quite the law enforcement man Sam is. I worked for Halstead for two years before Sam came. What a world of difference.”

“What happened to Halstead?” Jo asked. Maybe she could tackle the man after seeing Sam.

“He died a couple of years ago—heart attack. That’s what got Sam appointed to the job. Then he won the election last year. Otherwise I expect the good ol’ boy network would have kept the man in office forever. Oops, the line is free, which means Sam’s off the phone,” Marjorie said. She rose and went to the door near her desk, knocked and stuck her head in.

A second later she pushed it open and gestured to Jo.

For a second, walking into Sam’s office felt like walking into the past—only nothing looked the same. The walls had been painted off-white, and there were citations and awards and photos on the long wall. The windows had wooden blinds, which added a touch of class to the government-issue decoration.

Sam had an old oak desk, scarred and aged. It suited the office and the man.

“Jo,” he said, rising.

“Hi.” She swallowed hard. She shouldn’t have stormed away from Ruby’s. This was as awkward as it got. She should apologize. Would it make a difference to his looking into things?

“I came to make that statement. And ask if I could see the file.”

He looked at her for such a long time she was sure he was going to refuse. Then he nodded and asked Marjorie to get it. Gesturing to the chair across the desk from his, he indicated she sit.

Jo did, her knees feeling wobbly. “Thank you. Do you want me to type up a report? I’m good at that. Or I can just tell you what happened that night.”

He sat and leaned back in his chair. “I’d appreciate not having to write it up myself. You can use the computer in Marjorie’s area.”

She smiled. No one she knew liked writing reports.

“I hope you write reports better than Halstead did. There’s nothing to go on in his. Just some mention of wild accusations from a teenager, no follow-up with either Maddie or anyone else. And he never mentions other possibilities.”

“So Maddie didn’t get into trouble? I heard Halstead say they would take away her foster license.”

“Maybe they did, but I don’t have any information on it. As far as I know she never had other foster children after you girls were sent away. Yet she’s part of this new home for unwed pregnant teens, and I haven’t heard a hint of anyone opposing her involvement.”

“Suspicious, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Southern towns have loyalties to home-grown people.”

“I was born here,” Jo said, refuting his claim.

Sam set her up at the extra computer in the outer office. It took Jo longer to write the report than she’d expected. She could see every moment, and to write it all down took time. When she was finished, Marjorie printed it out and took it in to Sam. Jo followed and sat in the visitor’s chair.

She waited in silence while he read. She fidgeted a little, feeling nervous and unsettled. She looked at Sam, found his gaze on her and looked away, feeling butterflies in her stomach. How long would it take for him to read the darn thing?

The moments ticked by. The air seemed to be seeping from the room. Licking dry lips, she glanced back. He had put down the pages and was studying her.

“Stop,” she said.

“Sorry, do I make you nervous?”

“Great technique, but I’m not one of your suspects.” And the butterflies had nothing to do with the cop, more with the man.

He gave a half smile. “But you’d have me believe Allen McLennon is a suspect.”

“He is. The only one.”

Jo was relieved when Marjorie arrived with the pitifully thin folder. Sam pointed to Jo, and Marjorie handed it to her. “Let me know if you need something else, Sheriff,” the woman said before leaving. She closed the door.

Jo opened the folder and began to read. A few minutes later, she leafed through the file. “No photos, no lab report, nothing about the charges I made against Alan McLennon,” she murmured. “That alone should point to sloppy work, if not downright criminal conspiracy.”

“One way to look at it. But if you examine other files, you’d find the same kind of reports. And this from the man they elected sheriff for five terms,” Sam said.

Jo tossed it on his desk. “Well, thanks for letting me see it.”

“I don’t like the situation any more than you do,” Sam said. “If we work together, maybe we can find a way to bring out the truth, no matter what it is.”

“No matter what it is? You think it’s someone else? That I’m making this up?”