Page 26 of Long Pig
“You knew that’s what they would do. I’m surprised you’re this angry,” she said gently, holding back her own disappointment. She’d found the bones, and it hurt that the man would be forever unknown.
“I’m mad about the information I gave them, but furious over what I found out about Deputy Wallard.” Dale practically spit the name out. “I talked to my friend at the sheriff’s department after Wallard showed up here. He did a little investigating of his own. The deputy is married,” Dale said furiously. “He has a two-year-old son, and his wife moved to town three months after he took the job. You’re not the onlywoman he’s harassed. His behavior caught up to him in Gila County, and that’s why he left.”
“They didn’t fire him?” Willow asked.
“Their union makes it hard to fire law enforcement without heavy evidence. It saves money to simply pass bad cops off to other counties. My friend said Wallard joined the Apache County union the day he started work.” Dale shook his head. “Eventually his behavior will catch up to him, but it could take years.”
“That’s too long,” Willow said emphatically.
“I didn’t see him in town, but if he comes nosing around again, I’ll make sure he knows I’ll make a complaint. The Apache County Sheriff’s Office isn’t far from the wild west when it comes to rules, but cheating on your spouse is a hard line. Even with the union, he can be placed on unpaid leave. Usually, they move on when that starts happening.”
“Then he becomes another county’s problem?” Willow asked skeptically.
“That about covers it.”
“Okay. I don’t understand, but I’ll live with it. I need to learn to handle these situations myself. I will learn,” she amended, her stubborn side rearing its head.
Dale took off his hat and ran his hand through his short hair before placing it back on his head. “You’re right. I’m overstepping a bit, but I also know men like Wallard. He’ll go after easier pickings when he knows I won’t back down. In a normal situation, I would tell you to rack the shotgun and make sure the man knows you mean business. When they wear a badge, it’s more difficult. He has no right to be on this property. If he won’t stay away, we’ll make a formal complaint.” Dale took off his hat again and dusted it against his pants leg.
Willow realized shortly after he moved in that he did this when angry or annoyed. He was both.
“Look,” he said when the silence stretched. “If it was someone besides a deputy, you could take care of it. A man needs to know you mean business when you say no, and racking a shotgun gives them the message loud and clear. Let me handle Wallard.” He looked straight at her. “Please.”
“Okay, I’ll stop arguing. You’re right about the deputy,” she admitted. “He scares me more because he wears a badge. I don’t want or need trouble.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“Never a good sign,” Dale said with a grin.
“I’m trying to be serious here,” she chided.
He pantomimed zipping his lips.
“I rarely go to town without you.” She shrugged. “I guess what I’m saying is that I need to go out more. I’m really bad in social situations, and I want to stop being so dependent on you.”
Dale smiled at her. “I’ve been waiting for you to become more adventurous. I wasn’t going to push it. This was something you needed to settle inside your head. The last thing you needed was Wallard giving you trouble, but I promise he will be a non-entity very soon.”
He opened his arms, and she stepped into them.
The unknown bones still bothered her. The fact she’d been stopped from using her property to help women bothered her. The deputy was at the top of her bother list, but Dale loved her.
She had to start living.
Chapter Sixteen
A Career in Death
Larry
The inheritance may have felt like a small fortune to Clyde, but it didn’t make all Larry’s dreams come true. He was caught between anger and disgust for his father. Larry wouldn’t be living an idle life like he thought he would. His parents’ home was a complete loss, and because it was paid off, his father had dropped the insurance policy to save money. A month after the deaths, he received a notice from the city that he had to have the land cleared of burned debris or the city would confiscate the property. After raging in his hotel room, he decided to let the city take it.
If Clyde had sold the butcher shop instead of simply closing it, there would have been more money. He should have known how foolish his father was and interceded somehow. The hero worship Larry had felt for so long was the delusion of a child. As an adult, he saw how wrong he had been.
There was no way he would return to college. He didn’t need an education where the teachers were dumber than the students. This meant he had to find a way to make money that allowed him to live the life he fantasized about. Exhilaration filled him whenever he thought about it. His fantasies grewdeeper and darker, leaving him restless to take the next step. He had to generate an income that allowed him to travel. Killing in his backyard was the quickest way to get caught.
He also needed a home base that wasn’t in a populated area. That meant his current location was out of the question. Larry studied murder from every aspect, including investigations. He found a goldmine in magazines likeTrue Detective,Official Detective Stories, andMurder Casebook.
He carefully purchased the magazines at small stores off the highway because he didn’t want to leave a trail. You never knew when the feds were watching. The stories and pictures stimulated his dark curiosity. The covers screamed with garish headlines in blood-red fonts, promising "Sex-Crazed Killer on the Loose!" or "Blonde Beauty Slain in Love Nest!" Often, a posed photograph or painting showed a terrified woman caught mid-scream, a shadowy man looming behind her with rope, pistol, or switchblade in hand. His heart rate sped up as he studied the details, though he planned to be an equal opportunity killer. He didn’t care if his victims were male or female.
The sensationalized true crime stories expanded his dark thoughts. The blow-by-blow accounts of murders, mob hits, adulterous scandals, and criminal freak shows fed him much like food. Every bloody knife, every desperate alibi, every fatal kiss was painted in breathless detail, and Larry couldn’t get enough. He lived for his weekly passport into torture, homicide, and the morbid death dance. The gruesome murders gave him the thrill he’d been missing in college.