Salt River by James Sallis Read Free Book Online Page A

in our possessions safe, which just about anyone could open with determination and a state-of-the-art nail file, and read the note from Lonnie, which told me, among other things, that Officer Jed Baxter was staying at the Inn-a-While out by the highway. So I got back in the Jeep and made the longish drive.
    It's a habit you never quite get rid of. You pull in and sit for a time, watching closely, sizing up activity and positions, before getting out.
    Three cars ranging from three to a dozen years old, an SUV with Montana plates, and a beat-to-hell pickup, half Ford, half spare parts, occupied the parking lot, making it a landmark business day for the motel. The number was missing from the door on room 8, but with 7 to the left and 9 to the right, and a Camry with Texas plates out front, I managed to figure it out. The Camry was gold-colored and well used, with stains on the carpet and seats, but all of it clean, none of the usual detritus of fast-food wrappers, sacks, paper cups. Even the boxes in the backseat were neatly stacked.
    Jed Baxter didn't look all that surprised when he answered the door in his boxer shorts and T-shirt.
    "Sheriff." He backed out of the door to give me room.
    A bottle of bourbon stood on the bedside table. From the look of things, the two of them had been keeping close company. The TV was on, one car in pursuit of another against what was all too obviously a back-projected city, volume turned so low it could have been sound from the next room. Baxter had been ironing his pants atop a damp towel on the dresser surface. One leg was folded back on itself, like a cripple's. He unplugged the travel iron and, since he was there by it, snagged his drink.
    "You've been rooting around town, asking questions." I'd settled in on the wide window ledge. He sat on the bed. We were maybe a yard apart.
    "What we do—right, Sheriff?" He shrugged. "I wasn't trying to hide anything. News in a town this size, it's not likely to gather flies."
    "And I'm thinking you knew that; it was part of the plan. Maybe it was the plan."
    "Ah. The plan." Baxter held up his empty glass and motioned with its toward the bottle, offering. Why not? Been a long day. He found another plastic cup in the bathroom, half filled it, and brought it over.
    "We spoke with your people back in Fort Worth. Seems—"
    "I'm on a leave of absence, Sheriff."
    "Okay. Not quite the way they put it, but close enough. Explains the lack of a warrant or any other paperwork. You're here, they were careful to point out—a number of times—in no official capacity."
    Baxter smiled.
    "So," I said.
    "So?"
    "So it begins to look personal." He took a long sip of his bourbon before responding. "It is, but not the way you think. Back in town I definitely got the feeling that you weren't eager to help."
    "I had no information for you."
    "Come on, Sheriff. You were just shining me on, didn't even want to talk to me."
    "In which case, you acted in a manner that assured I would."
    "Yeah, well. I've been doing this a long time. Whatever works."
    "What do you have against Eldon Brown?"
    Baxter shook his head. "Not him. My concern is Ron Nabors, the detective who nailed him for it and wouldn't hear otherwise. Still won't, for that matter."
    "You have reason to believe this Nabors was involved?"
    "Laziness and habit, more like."
    "But you're looking to what? Take him down?"
    "Not going to happen. And not that I'd want to. But your friend had nothing to do with the murder, and Big Ron's gotten away with too much for too long. Hell, we all have."
    I was not only a psychologist of sorts, I was a cop who had seen some of the worst mankind had to offer and an ex-con who had been privy to society's best, gnarled efforts at greatheartedness and manipulation. Altruism gets handed to me, I'm automatically peeling back the label, looking to see what's underneath. But I didn't say anything.
    Baxter held the bottle up and, when I shook my head, poured what remained into his cup.
    "I just