was due in court in the morning ranted about her most recent run-in with her son.
“I can’t do nuttin’ with him,” she finished. “Jes’ keeps runnin’ that mouth of his, sassin’ me. You tell that judge I don’t want him no more.”
The group home was full and there was no foster home option for the boy, who’d blown out of foster care the last time his mother kicked him out. His mother had sworn everything was fine at home during the last case management meeting so he’d have a lot of work to do before the nine o’clock hearing. That is, assuming the mother hadn’t changed her mind again by then.
He hung up and decided to check his voicemail before making the hour-long drive home. There was a message from Steven Hill about the burglary and one from Matt, asking him to call when he got back to town. Two more messages from Matt followed the first. The second, left only twenty minutes ago. “Hey bud, you coming home today? Give me a call when you get this.” Jake punched Matt’s number but the call went straight to voicemail.
***
“I was takin’ a nap when I heard Miz Maddie screamin’ like a pole cat fightin’ a dirt dog.” Grayson Wilson was a journeyman electrician who hadn’t lived in the South since segregation. Under stress, the dialect of his childhood resurfaced and this certainly qualified as a stressful situation. Even after telling his story to dozens of nurses and orderlies, the horror of seeing his neighbor’s dead body hadn’t faded.
“Did you hear anything before Mrs. Hill’s screams?”
“Nah, mah wife usta tell me I could outsnore a freight train so it’d take one t’wake me up.”
“Mrs. Wilson is…?”
“Gone, I’m sorry to say.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. When did she die?”
Wilson snorted, “Ain’t said nuttin’ ‘bout her bein’ dead, jes’ gone. Miz Maddie, she was screamin’ her head off, so I goes out to see what’s what. Miz Connie, she got her to stop yellin’ long enough to tell us her husband done been shot.”
“So you went inside to check on him?”
“Thought he mighta needed help.”
“When you went into the house, did you notice anything unusual or out of place?”
“Cain’t say as I did.”
“Did you hear anyone moving around in the house?”
“Didn’t hear nuttin’.”
“How long did it take you to find Mr. Hill?”
“Not long. He weren’t hard ta find.”
“Did you go into the office? Touch anything?”
“I surefire did not! Weren’t nuttin’ I could do for him. Never saw nuttin’ like that afore and I don’t never want to see the likes a that ag’in.”
“And what did you do then?”
“I got outta there quick as my feet could carry me. Sat down on the steps and didn’ budge ‘til the police come.”
“Did you see anybody while you were sitting there?”
“Jes’ Miz Connie’s boy. He come and set with me.” Wilson chuckled. “Didn’ look none too happy ‘bout it, but his mama tol’ him to set there with me, so he did.”
“Did he go inside the house?”
“Jes set there lis’nen to that music of his ‘til we heard the siren, then he beat feet.”
Matt thanked Mr. Wilson, gave him his card, and asked him to call if he thought of anything else. Outside, this time with his car in the police spot, he called Cam Ellwood.
“Lab.”
“What can you tell me, Cam?”
“Yeah right. Nobody else is crazy enough to work on Sunday.”
“Just finished talking to Wilson. He says he went into the house but not the office.”
“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t have gone in there if the good people of Casper weren’t paying me to do it.”
“Got anything for me on the prints?”
“Still processing.”
Matt hung up his phone and picked up his radio. The dispatcher put him through to Officer Altrez. “Where are you, Luis?”
“Mall.”
“Meet you at the recycle station in fifteen.”
“Ten-four.”
Eighteen minutes later, Matt was back in his car. Altrez’s team had
“I can’t do nuttin’ with him,” she finished. “Jes’ keeps runnin’ that mouth of his, sassin’ me. You tell that judge I don’t want him no more.”
The group home was full and there was no foster home option for the boy, who’d blown out of foster care the last time his mother kicked him out. His mother had sworn everything was fine at home during the last case management meeting so he’d have a lot of work to do before the nine o’clock hearing. That is, assuming the mother hadn’t changed her mind again by then.
He hung up and decided to check his voicemail before making the hour-long drive home. There was a message from Steven Hill about the burglary and one from Matt, asking him to call when he got back to town. Two more messages from Matt followed the first. The second, left only twenty minutes ago. “Hey bud, you coming home today? Give me a call when you get this.” Jake punched Matt’s number but the call went straight to voicemail.
***
“I was takin’ a nap when I heard Miz Maddie screamin’ like a pole cat fightin’ a dirt dog.” Grayson Wilson was a journeyman electrician who hadn’t lived in the South since segregation. Under stress, the dialect of his childhood resurfaced and this certainly qualified as a stressful situation. Even after telling his story to dozens of nurses and orderlies, the horror of seeing his neighbor’s dead body hadn’t faded.
“Did you hear anything before Mrs. Hill’s screams?”
“Nah, mah wife usta tell me I could outsnore a freight train so it’d take one t’wake me up.”
“Mrs. Wilson is…?”
“Gone, I’m sorry to say.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. When did she die?”
Wilson snorted, “Ain’t said nuttin’ ‘bout her bein’ dead, jes’ gone. Miz Maddie, she was screamin’ her head off, so I goes out to see what’s what. Miz Connie, she got her to stop yellin’ long enough to tell us her husband done been shot.”
“So you went inside to check on him?”
“Thought he mighta needed help.”
“When you went into the house, did you notice anything unusual or out of place?”
“Cain’t say as I did.”
“Did you hear anyone moving around in the house?”
“Didn’t hear nuttin’.”
“How long did it take you to find Mr. Hill?”
“Not long. He weren’t hard ta find.”
“Did you go into the office? Touch anything?”
“I surefire did not! Weren’t nuttin’ I could do for him. Never saw nuttin’ like that afore and I don’t never want to see the likes a that ag’in.”
“And what did you do then?”
“I got outta there quick as my feet could carry me. Sat down on the steps and didn’ budge ‘til the police come.”
“Did you see anybody while you were sitting there?”
“Jes’ Miz Connie’s boy. He come and set with me.” Wilson chuckled. “Didn’ look none too happy ‘bout it, but his mama tol’ him to set there with me, so he did.”
“Did he go inside the house?”
“Jes set there lis’nen to that music of his ‘til we heard the siren, then he beat feet.”
Matt thanked Mr. Wilson, gave him his card, and asked him to call if he thought of anything else. Outside, this time with his car in the police spot, he called Cam Ellwood.
“Lab.”
“What can you tell me, Cam?”
“Yeah right. Nobody else is crazy enough to work on Sunday.”
“Just finished talking to Wilson. He says he went into the house but not the office.”
“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t have gone in there if the good people of Casper weren’t paying me to do it.”
“Got anything for me on the prints?”
“Still processing.”
Matt hung up his phone and picked up his radio. The dispatcher put him through to Officer Altrez. “Where are you, Luis?”
“Mall.”
“Meet you at the recycle station in fifteen.”
“Ten-four.”
Eighteen minutes later, Matt was back in his car. Altrez’s team had
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