The Hum Page 5

  CHAPTER 7

  LIFE IN A SMALL TOWN

  Sheriff Russell Jent marveled at how different his new life really was from his days with the FBI. Nowadays, most of his time was spent breaking up a domestic dispute between a husband, Elmer, who drank too much, and a wife, Melissa, who refused to be quiet while the Sunday football games were on television. He’d been called out to their home at least ten times in the past year for the same occurrence, with the same results.

  Elmer liked to drive over to the liquor store and grab a case of beer every weekend, which in itself wasn’t an issue. The problem came when he decided to drink all twenty-four of them that same day. Since Melissa liked to push his buttons any way she could, it made for a dangerous combination.

  The previous episode was due to Melissa standing in front of the television while Elmer watched the Dallas Cowboys—his favorite team—play the Sunday night game. By this time in the day, Elmer had already downed eighteen of the twenty-four beers in his case, and he didn’t even want to look at Melissa, much more entertain her mouth during the ‘Boys’ game.

  Russell had gotten the call from their neighbor at around nine-thirty that night. It was a complaint about the normal loud arguing, cursing, and things being broken in the Brown home next door. He’d long ago given up trying to watch Sunday night football himself, because most of his weekends involved hauling in the husbands—rarely the wives—for domestic disturbance, putting them up in a nice room at the jail and charging them a hefty fine before the next day’s discharge.

  When Russell pulled up in front of the Brown home, he noticed that every light was on, and the television volume was cranked to the max. He sent up a silent prayer that Elmer would come along peacefully, but he knew the man’s drinking was getting worse, and Melissa’s mouth seemed to be on the same downhill slide as well.

  Making his way up on the front porch with his .45 in hand, Russell knocked loudly on the front door of the Brown’s dilapidated old two-bedroom home. He knew this particular home almost as well as he knew his own. He’d spent way too many hours talking to, and arresting Elmer over the years.

  The Brown residence was constructed in the

  1950’s with rough-cut sawmill lumber covering the outside, as well as many of the walls inside. Some of the rooms inside had drywall, but none of it was finished; the screw holes as well as the ends where the drywall boards joined together were all visible to the human eye.

  The exterior of the abode had about twenty layers of paint; the latest was dark blue with silver trim boards around the perimeter. Russell knew the color had been chosen by Elmer himself to show his love for his favorite team, and maybe even to anger his neighbor, a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. The dark hue home was pretty hard to see on most nights without the aid of the moon to help light the way, but Russell could always depend on the loud shouting and cursing to find his favorite couple.

  Amidst much yelling back and forth, Elmer yanked open the door.

  “What do you want, Sheriff? Don’t tell me my nosey neighbors called the cops on me again!” Elmer stressed the words nosey neighbors in hope they would hear.

  “How many times do we have to go through this, Elmer? What is it this time? Did Melissa change the channel on the television, again? Did she burn the wings for the game? What?”

  “That wench in there just stood right in the front of the television and refused to move! She had it coming!”

  Elmer barely finished the sentence before Melissa’s voice came yelling through the door from somewhere inside the kitchen, “You better believe I didn’t move! This is my house, and I can stand in front of my television any time I very well please!”

  “Shut up, Melissa! I’ve heard enough from you for the rest of the night! Are you satisfied now that you’ve gotten Sheriff Jent out here, again?”

  “A night’s stay down at the jail might do you some good, Elmer. Maybe you’d treat me a little better for a few days, at least.”

  Turning back to Russell, Elmer continued, “I warned her Sheriff, but she wouldn’t listen. I swear she does it just to get a rise out of me, at times.”

  “So, what did you do to her, Elmer?”

  “Oh, I just threw a can of beer at her. It barely even grazed her cheek.”

  Leaning in close to Elmer’s left side, Russell yelled into the house, “Melissa? Melissa? Can you step outside here so I can see you?”

  When the forty-year-old Melissa came into view behind Elmer, Russell immediately saw the purplish bruise over her left cheekbone and her swollen eyes, possibly from crying, but more likely from Elmer’s physical abuse.

  “Step aside and let her come out here onto the front porch, Elmer!”

  “There’s really no need for all of this, Sheriff. We’re sorry about this little ruckus, but you’ve been around us long enough to know that this is just the way we act sometimes.”

  When Melissa was in front of him, Russell quickly deduced that the swollen eyes were from a combination of crying and more physical abuse, like he’d originally thought. He was so tired of the whole scene that he decided to try a different approach.

  “Melissa, I’m sorry about this mess, but it has got to stop. I can’t keep coming out here again and again, just so you can get a few good days of Elmer being nice to you.”

  Removing his handcuffs from his belt, he placed them securely over her wrists, to her front. As Melissa stared at him dumbstruck, Russell heard Elmer burst into a fit of laughter from back inside the doorway.

  “Don’t get too happy yet, Elmer.”

  Amid more shouting and cursing, Russell took Melissa out to his cruiser, placed her in the front seat, and then came back to the door for Elmer. Showing him another set of handcuffs, he said, “Do you want to put these on, or do you want me to?”

  “What? I thought you were taking Melissa in this time?”

  “I’ve decided to take you both in tonight. Did it ever occur to you that I might like to sit at home and catch a game on the television, too? I’m more than a little tired of coming out here every week, Elmer.”

  “I know, I know, Sheriff. Can’t you just give me a break this one time?”

  “I’ve tried that, Elmer. Remember last spring when you poured that bottle of Coors Light beer on Melissa’s head because she got the wrong brand when you sent her to the store? If you don’t remember the beer, maybe you can remember the scratches she gave you down the side of your face.”

  * * *

  Sitting in his office at the local jail with his feet propped up, Russell did his best to finish reading his latest Ted Dekker novel. It wasn’t an easy feat, thanks to the bantering back and forth between his latest occupants. Once they settled in for the night, he decided to do the same. Being a small town sheriff often required him to spend a few of his nights at the local jail, while his inhabitants slept off their vices. Unfortunately, the only guest for the past four months had been Elmer.

  Russell hoped that bringing in Melissa with him would actually force them to get along, or separate for good. He’d seen many couples like them over them over the years, and he didn’t think they would ever separate. Some people just thrived on drama, and Elmer and Melissa seemed to fit the bill. He just hoped their relationship wouldn’t end with the death of one of them.

  After finishing the twenty-third chapter of Dekker’s book Priest’s Graveyard, Russell removed his shoes and lay out on the cot he’d placed inside his small office when he first took over as Sheriff there, about five years ago.

  Looking around the small space, his mind drifted back to his days with the Bureau. Life in D.C. wasn’t even comparable to the quiet of his small town of Wise, Virginia. For starters, the monthly operating budget at the Bureau was equal to his annual budget in Wise, and his office there was three times the size of the one he currently found himself in. While he had over o
ne hundred and fifty agents on staff at the Bureau, his staff in Wise consisted of three other deputies and a secretary that showed up when she wanted and left the same way.

  Bonnie Watts, secretary for the Wise County Sheriff’s Office, had worked for the county for the last thirty-five years, and she answered to no one, especially not some young kid fresh out of Washington. She made sure Russell knew the ropes from day one, so they didn’t “get off on the wrong foot”.

  The older woman of sixty-five knew the system unlike any other. She accomplished more in a few hours than most did in eight. Russell accepted her stubbornness, because her output was well worth it. She knew everything about the town, as well as most of the others around the area. She was an old dinosaur, but she was also a wealth of knowledge.

  Bonnie had six grandchildren that lived in the area as well, and they were the reason for her irregular schedule. She often babysat for her two daughters, and adjusted her schedule as needed to fit theirs. She had her small space at the office decorated with over fifteen different pictures of her spending time with her grandchildren.

  By the right side of her desk—her office was directly outside of the Sheriff’s office—Russell noticed the one and only picture that she displayed of her late husband, Walter. They were married over thirty-three years, and would probably still be today, if he hadn’t died of an unexpected heart attack about a year ago. Bonnie took the news hard, but she was right back to work the next day, as if nothing ever happened. She was a tough old woman, and Russell was thankful to have her on staff.

  Looking on the back wall, Russell noticed his recruit picture from the FBI; he couldn’t get over how young he looked, and how it felt like such a lifetime ago. He remembered how excited he was when the recruiter stopped by the University of Kentucky asking to talk with him, and the joy he later felt at the opportunity to move to Washington and train with the bureau.

  Over six years had passed since his days with the bureau, and a small part of Russell still missed it. Sure, the sleepy town of Wise had its share of crime, but it was all small potatoes compared to the real cases he’d dealt with out in Washington. The occasional

  DUI, the regular domestic abuse cases, and the once in a blue moon robbery were the only highlights he’d dealt with since assuming his position over five years ago; he’d taken close to a year off, recovering from the last case he was given at the bureau—that year was needed to help pull his family back together. The Club Stalker not only kidnapped his wife, he’d also gone after Russell’s parents.

  Small town living wasn’t entirely boring for Russell and his wife, Sam, though, thanks to their son Little Colby. Their daughter Julie was fourteen, and she helped look after the rambunctious little eight-yearold, when needed.

  In Russell’s mind his family life in Wise couldn’t be better. Their home was beginning to get that settled in feel to it, Sam’s cooking was improving more and more, and he had numerous friends throughout the community with whom he regularly went hunting and fishing. Most of them he’d met at church.

  The small church where they spent many of their waking hours was thriving beyond everyone’s expectations, and he’d gotten really close to the pastor there over the last five years. After the toll the bureau and the Stalker had taken on his life, Russell knew he should be enjoying his life of peace and quiet, but there seemed to be a piece missing in the puzzle of his life and he believed it had something to do with the job.

  At some point during his random thinking, Russell finally ceded to sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  When the phone began ringing off the hook at around five o’clock the next morning, Russell had a hard time coming to. Filling in on occasion for his deputies on the night shift was really taking its toll on his sleep schedule, but truth be told, he actually looked forward to the nights down at the station to get caught back up on his paperwork. An early morning phone call definitely wasn’t welcome at this particular point in his life though.

  Shaking the morning fog from his head, he said, “Sheriff Jent here. How can I help you?”

  “Good morning, Russell. This is Bonnie. I just got word that someone robbed the service station at the top of the hill, and killed the four men inside.”

  “What? I’m here at the police station, and you get word? How’s that?”

  “Connections, Sheriff. It’s all about connections.” Bonnie said.

  “I’ll wager one month’s pay that those drug dealers finally took each other out.” Russell said, knowing the place had been selling more than alcohol and snacks for quite some time. He’d tried catching them in the act, but they were smart enough not to sell to his deputies. “What time is it, Bonnie?”

  “It’s exactly 5:05 in the morning. Sorry to call so early, but Ramos is already on site, and he could really use your help. I think your background at the Bureau could really come in handy on this one.”

  Russell jumped into detective mode. “Tell him to tape off the area and don’t allow anyone in or out. And get the coroner out there immediately. This town hasn’t had a murder in years; it might take a while to process everything.”

  “Will do, Sheriff. How long do you think you will be?”

  “Give me time to release the couple I brought in last night on a domestic, and I’ll meet everyone at the service station at around 7:00 o’clock.”

  “Just as a forewarning, it’s a pretty gruesome sight out there—according to Deputy Ramos. You might want to skip breakfast this morning.

  “Maybe this will finally close that place down for good. That service station could be the attributed to what little crime we do have here in Wise.”

  “Oh, it will be closed for quite some time. You can bank on that, Sheriff. They’re all dead—hard to run a business, legitimate or otherwise if all partners are murdered.” Bonnie said matter of fact.

  “This doesn’t sound good at all, Bonnie. Tell Ramos to hang in there. I’ll hurry up around here, and try to make it to his location as quickly as possible.”

  Russell hung up the phone, relieved himself in the small bathroom and showered for the day’s activities. Thankful to have something to look forward to—murder or not—he smiled as he passed by the bathroom’s tiny mirror. That smile didn’t last long though. Standing there looking at his own reflection, he couldn’t believe how gray his hair had become over the last few years. He also had more wrinkle lines on his forehead, and what appeared to be a small Volkswagen bug tire trying to attach itself to his waistline.

  He tried to remember the point when his old routine of constant running and working out had slowly been replaced with getting up at all hours of the night with the kids, and changing their sheets after the occasional upset stomach.

  Russell was thankful at least to be past changing some of the worst smelling diapers he’d ever come across in his life. He noticed right away that the one big difference between boys and girls was that boys stink a whole lot more. He’d changed tons of diapers for Julie and she never brought tears to his eyes. Colby’s diapers were an entirely different story altogether. The boy smelled like death, and Russell was thankful to finally be past that stage; even though it took the kid to the age of five before he completely transitioned to underwear.

  After he finished dressing in his uniform, Russell made a short mental note to get back on the treadmill or the elliptical as soon as possible; maybe both. Making his way back to the jail cell, he yelled, “Wake up, sleepy heads. It’s time to go home.”

  Russell herded the duo back to their home, gave them both a stern warning about either learning to get along or separating for the good of everyone involved— him included. He finished by telling them if he came out again, he’d lock them both up for a very long time. He knew he was only bluffing, because to lock them up for an extended period of time, meant he’d have to stay around the jail area himself, and that wasn’t likely t
o happen. He only hoped he’d gotten through to Elmer and Melissa this time around.

  Russell arrived home at six-twenty in the morning to the smell of bacon frying on the stove. Sam’s cooking was the other reason for the new look around his waistline. She loved to make bacon and eggs or gravy and biscuits for breakfast every morning, which is funny because before they moved to Wise, she never made either for breakfast. They ate cereal, bagels, and toast religiously for their first twelve years of marriage. Something about the Appalachian region always brought out the buckets of lard in the kitchen.

  “Hey stranger, you’re home early today.” “Good morning to you, too.”

  “It’s always a good morning, when I get to see you, honey. Is that better?”

  “A little too late, but I’ll take it. Did you make enough for me, too?” Russell asked, completely ignoring Bonnie’s suggestion that he skip breakfast. Truth be told, the sight of blood and gore no longer messed with him, thanks to the Club Stalker.

  “You better believe it, skinny boy. You need some bacon to put some meat on your bones.”

  “You’ve been doing a great job of that so far. I’m home early today because we’ve got an unexpected robbery and homicide at the service station at the top of the hill.”

  The look of alarm on Sam’s face was evident, but she tried to play it off by saying, “The same place you’ve suspected drugs being sold in?”

  “That would be the one. Deputy Ramos is there now. All four of the gentlemen running the joint are dead.”

  It was hard for Sam to hide her concern. She’d been through enough murders with Russell during his days with the Bureau, to do her a lifetime. She managed to ask, “How long do you think it will take?” “To tell you the truth, I really don’t have a clue, babe. The suspect fled the scene, so we’re still searching for him in the woods behind the place.”