First Surrender (Chance Encounters #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jackson

T he Porter Family tree goes back a hundred years in the Rollins County Census. The tree is as wide as it is high. Ties weave throughout every town within twenty miles. Is it a coincidence that the crime in my county is connected back to this family?

I’ve been delving into it nonstop for days and this afternoon I’m finally meeting Mrs. Porter for lunch. Even after how I acted toward her last time it wasn’t a hard sell. She accepted my invitation quickly.

It doesn’t mean that I’m looking forward to it. I rinse my razer in the sink and wipe the excess shaving cream off my face like I do every morning before walking down the normally dark hallway as I leave for work. Except this morning the hall bathroom is illuminated.

When I peek in the doorway, Natalie’s sitting on the countertop doing her makeup with her bare feet resting against the sink. It’s a small counter and her legs are bent to her chest but she looks perfectly content.

“You’re up early.”

She looks at me through the reflection of the mirror as she finishes a swipe of eyeliner. “I have an early appointment. I’m leaving as soon as Dec gets on the bus.”

“Everything alright?”

Her eyes ping to mine again as she tubes her mascara. “Yep. I’m trying to get all my appointments out of the way before school ends for the year.”

“I have a working lunch, and won’t be back until this afternoon.”

“Okay. You’ll be home for dinner, though right?” She asks, hesitantly.

Her voice is small and I blame it on being too early for her. We’ve barely talked the last few days. I’ve been neck-deep in these cases and she’s been calling her acquaintances about writing letters.

“Yeah, definitely.” It’s not obvious but I see relief sweep over her face after I answered. I don’t know what it means. Is she happy that I’ll be home for dinner? Does she like it when I am?

We haven’t discussed anything personal between us, not with the custody case looming over our heads. It’s selfish of me to keep hoping that things will change but I’ve never let myself be a selfish man ever in my life.

Is it so bad to start now?

* * *

“Sheriff, I am so glad you’ve reconsidered my proposal,” Mrs. Porter sings my praises over the lunch menu.

I don’t correct her about being here to reconsider anything but I smile politely anyway.

“How long have you lived around here, Mrs. Porter?” My question interrupts her out-loud decision-making over what to order.

“Vanessa, please.” She smiles, sweetly. The makeup on her face is thick, the texture evident in her crow’s feet and around her mouth. “I’ve lived in Rollins my whole life. I was raised in Langston, but we moved to a bigger house here in Lawson when I was in elementary school.”

“Ah, I see. Your family has been around here a long time then?”

“Oh, yes. Generations. We take pride in our community, Sheriff. That’s why my husband ran for his position. The one you hold now, obviously.” She smiles, sweetly again but I see something else in her eyes. There’s a coldness behind them that differs from the expression on her face.

“I am sorry for your loss. Losses,” I correct, purposefully.

“Yes. My brothers were quite the troublemakers. I’m only sorry that they dragged my poor husband into it.”

“And, the other troublemaker, your cousin is it?”

Her eyes widen slightly but she tilts her head in question. “I’m sorry, who do you mean?”

“I learned recently that your cousin is in prison for the bombing. Thomas.”

“Oh, yes. Tommy was my aunt’s son. He was raised with us after she passed away. I guess he might’ve been the one to pass on his troubles to Benjamin and Anthony.” She fidgets uncomfortably with her silverware and I’m only getting started.

“That’s why you moved to the bigger house in Lawson?” I ask gently, giving her the false confidence that this isn’t an interrogation but rather me getting to know her. Technically, it’s not an interrogation but I’m definitely prying for information.

“Yes, my daddy insisted on doing right by his sister. He took in Tommy and his sister, Margaret. Though she ran off years ago, right after she graduated high school.”

“Kyle’s mom. Right?” I hadn’t brought him up on purpose yet. I wanted to see her reaction when I said his name. The only person that I’ve killed in the line of duty and it was in the papers for days. Somehow no one ever connected him back to the prominent Porters.

She pales noticeably but doesn’t refute it. The waitress chooses this moment to get our food orders, though I think Vanessa’s appetite is gone.

“I must say, I was saddened by his death but you must know that I did not have much of a relationship with the boy. Tommy is the only one who kept in contact with Margaret and Kyle. I didn’t even know what he looked like until his picture was in the paper next to yours.”

She might be telling the truth. If I’m right, she seems to be embarrassed by the connection. I was hoping to catch her like a deer in headlights but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“I guess it is unfortunate that your family has had such negative press in the last year. I’m surprised your son is running for Mayor. What’s his name, again?”

“My boy, Randall, he’s a good man. He’s bright and intelligent. He went to college and has stayed far away from the bad seeds. He wanted to run for Sheriff like his daddy but I can tell you’re doing a fine job. With your experience in law enforcement, I understood that he wouldn’t have a chance to beat you.”

At least she’s being realistic.

“I think he’ll be the Governor of North Carolina one day. I can see it.”

Okay. Maybe she’s not being realistic. The Governor is the same man now who was running things when my mom worked at his estate decades ago. He’s close to retirement but I’ve heard rumors that his son is next to run for office. I don’t have high hopes for Vanessa’s son.

“Let me ask you a question and maybe this is totally out of left field…”

She eyes me skeptically as she takes a drink of her sweet tea.

“How do you know Declan Randolph?”

Her eyes don’t even flinch, they don’t widen, or give anything away. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure who that is. A colleague of yours?”

“No, not quite. He was an associate of Tommy’s.”

Her eyes widen this time and she sputters. “Well, that has nothing to do with me. I was not involved with Tommy and his shenanigans in the slightest. Just who do you think that I am, Sheriff?”

“I’m not quite sure, Mrs. Porter.”

Her jaw sets and I see the coldness in her eyes that she hides so well. “I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. You’re young, cocky, and you flubbed my husband’s case as a trooper. But do not forget who pays your salary, young man. You are correct, my family goes back a long time in these parts and we have more power in this county than you ever will.”

“Enough power to get convictions overturned? People out of jail? Start apartment fires?” I ask, boldly. She stands up and tosses her napkin on the table.

“You’re out of line. Have a good day, Mr. Malec.”

She stomps out of the restaurant with a flurry, huffing the whole way. It’s about how I expected it to go but I still don’t have any concrete answers. If her family is the root of the crime then who runs it?

Vanessa Porter? Not likely.

I ask the waitress to box the food to go and stew on my thoughts all the way home. It’s as if the answer is right in front of my face but I’m missing a piece. There is something else that needs to come into play.

Why Declan Randolph?

He’s not related to any of them. He supposedly has never even met Thomas Jameson and I believe Mrs. Porter when she says she doesn’t know him. So, where does he fit into all of this?

Someone helped him get out of jail. I know his defense lawyer isn’t that good. An old detective just so happened to get slammed with planting evidence at the exact right time to dismiss Declan’s case… But, why?

Who would have set Dec’s room on fire?

Who is the mastermind?

It’s dampening my mood entirely and I know it will only be a matter of time before I lose more sleep over it. I thought I was getting somewhere but I don’t feel any further than I did a month ago.

When I walk through the front door, I expect to see Dec on the couch but the house is silent. He should be off the bus by now but I don’t usually get home until after 5, so maybe I’m mistaken.

“Natalie?” If she’s not in the kitchen, she’s normally in her room but when I go down the hallway, the bathroom light is on like it was this morning. The door is closed but it’s not soundproof. I can hear muffled sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” The sobbing only intensifies. I try the handle but it’s locked. Something’s not right and my usually calm reactivity is flying out the window. All of my issues at work are suddenly the furthest thing from my mind.

“Open the door.” I plead gently, but nothing happens. “Natalie, open the door or I’ll bust it down. I swear to God.”

“I can’t,” she cries, heartbreakingly sad.

“Yes, you can. Please, sweetheart,” I beg. I can’t stand knowing that she’s in there alone and crying. The door is only a barricade. An obstacle that I will easily go around if it means I can get to her.

I step back, preparing to kick it in until I hear the lock click.