He’d dedicated his life to protecting others, but it wasn’t enough to assuage his guilt.
I wish I could just disappear. That ominous statement she made on prom night still haunted him.
All anyone knew for sure is one day about a week after Dylan left town himself, people started noticing Jessie’s absence. The sheriff brought Buddy and Brian in for questioning. Buddy claimed a drunken blackout with no recollection of the night in question. He couldn’t account for the blood seen on his shirt or his black eye. The sheriff at the time released them. Lack of evidence. From that day on, they remained silent, despite many inquiries, and Dylan trying his best over the last months to nail Buddy to the wall for something, anything he could use to get Buddy to talk and tell him where he buried Jessie. The man refused to speak to him. Even threatened to file charges for harassment. Dylan refused to stop looking for the one answer he needed to know. Where was Jessie? She deserved a proper burial. He needed to tell her how sorry he was for everything and give her the goodbye he’d been too afraid to say to her when he left for the military.
Dylan spotted his quarry across the room nursing a beer and a shot at a small booth on the far wall. Brian sat alone with three empty shots lined up next to his beer. Dylan didn’t think he’d stop with shot number four, not after finding out about his father’s death.
Maybe the booze would loosen his tongue and he’d finally talk about what happened to Jessie.
“Mind if I join you?”
Brian looked up through bleary eyes and scanned Dylan from his black Stetson, down his sheriff’s shirt and badge, to his black jeans and boots. Dylan noted his vision halted just that extra second on the gun at his hip. He hoped Brian hadn’t sunk so far into despair that he thought better to suck on a gun barrel than a beer bottle.
“Have a seat. I’m celebrating. How’s about I buy you a drink, Sheriff. We’ll have ourselves a toast. Good riddance, and thank you, God. The devil came to take Buddy Thompson home to burn.”
Although Brian slurred his words, and they were more than a little slow in coming, Dylan heard him loud and clear. He was glad of the old man’s demise.
Dylan took a seat and pulled off his Stetson and set it on the table beside him. The waitress came by and offered him a hot cup of coffee. He accepted it gratefully and dismissed her wide smile and the flirty gesture as she swung her hair over her shoulder. He kept his gaze on Brian and waited while the waitress paused in hopes of gaining his attention. She left pouting, and he didn’t give her a second thought.
Women threw themselves at him all the time because of his looks and dangerous job, and sometimes they figured out he was wealthy to boot. His wealth was no secret to any woman living in Fallbrook. From the minute he’d settled into his new house out near his cousins, Brody and Owen, he’d been every single woman’s favorite target. And a few married ones too. His cousins’ wives even tried to set him up a time or two, but he’d avoided their snares.
Dismissing his personal problems with the opposite sex, he addressed the problem sitting across from him. “You’ve been avoiding me since I moved back, Brian. Why?”
“I didn’t have a need for the sheriff.” Brian picked up his shot, draining it in one long swallow with a wince and a heavy exhalation
“You’ve been too busy drowning in a bottle to take a minute to say hello to an old friend.” Dylan’s sarcasm made Brian’s head snap up and his eyes flare. Dylan thought he saw a spark of his old friend in there somewhere, and it was a welcome sight.
“Some friend you turned out to be. You took off without so much as a goodbye, and you expect me to come running when you suddenly decide to come home.”
“You were the only one who knew I’d planned to leave after graduation.”
“I didn’t know you’d show up at the prom with my sister. I didn’t know you’d leave three days later after avoiding her and me all that time. Hell, we hadn’t even taken off our caps and gowns and you’d already left the gym, never to be seen again. Jessie disappeared five days later. In eight days, I lost my best friend and my sister. Now, you show up and want a hello. I’d rather she was sitting here. Maybe then, instead of ‘hello,’ I could say ‘I’m sorry.’” He raised his beer in a silent toast to the heavens. “I’m so damn sorry, Jessie girl.” He took a deep swallow.
Dylan wanted to steer the conversation in this direction, but seeing Brian look up to heaven made his insides go cold. She’d never been far from his mind in all these years. He had to know what really happened to Jessie.