The Shadows in the Forest: Abernathy Novel 3

By Kate Kelly

An ambush by my mom to discuss catering my nonexistent wedding is not a fun way to spend a morning. She's no longer setting me up on blind dates; she's planning a wedding. Never have I been happier to get a call from work regarding a dead body found in a field.

My name is Detective Ali Rivers with the Abernathy, Tennessee Police Department.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Kelly
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087884745

Kate Kelly

Kate Kelly is a Slam poet, singer/song writer and published author. Her novel, A Harsh and Private Beauty was published with Inanna press in 2019. She resides in Peterborough, Ontario with her family and is currently finishing her third novel.

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Acknowledgements

To my beta readers, again, for being the unsung heroes and rockstars that you two are. I am so appreciative of your insights and support!

To the better half, Bill - literally couldn’t have written this book without you, and you did one heck of a cover design. Thank you, love you. He says I don’t have to acknowledge him, but of course I don’t listen to him when it comes to tooting his horn.

1

Mom, where are you? I thought you were going to be meeting me here at nine and you’re 15 minutes late, I grumble on the phone. I shut my car door and set the alarm, heading towards the sidewalk in a quaint nearby town.

I’m sorry, sweetie, but things got a little crazy here at the house. I’m trying to work on a sweater for one of Ellen’s nieces, and the whole thing got so messed up, I’ve spent the morning frogging the entire work, she complains. Time got away from me and I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late. It’s okay, though, she adds brightly. There’s a wonderful man I want you to meet there. His name is Robert.

I imagine my mom sitting in her yarn room in her house, muttering curses as she rips out stitches she made with yarn. I know how much she hates that, and I get so caught up in feeling bad for her I almost gloss over the last part of what she had said. Excuse me? I do not need a man! I protest.

I’d say you protest too much, she says wryly, but I know you’re not looking for a man. You’ve already found one! she cheers over the phone.

Again, Mom, I’m not seeing Elmer, I groan, standing on the sidewalk. I must look like an idiot, arguing over the phone on a gorgeous Friday morning. Ever since my last case, my mom thinks Elmer, our Medical Examiner (actually, his name is Dr. James Flannigan), and I are in a relationship. Due to Elmer’s big mouth and terrible improvisation skills, she was under the impression we were engaged. Thankfully, we seem to have disabused her of that insane notion, but this idea that Elmer and I are dating is one idea we can’t get her to shake loose.

I love my mom, really I do, but she’s really hooked on this idea that I need to get married off and maybe have some grandkids. She’s been setting me up on horrible blind dates for the last year or so, regardless of how many times I’ve told her to knock it off. She’s not great at reading people, so she’s set me up with a drug dealing kingpin, a guy who lives in his mother’s basement, a terribly self-centered hippy of an optometrist, and a lawyer. To be fair, the lawyer was really nice, and the date with the kingpin went really well. Well, it well until the DEA surrounded us in the parking lot, found my gun before I had the chance to tell them I’m a homicide cop, and tackled me to the ground. My mom was also under the impression I was dating a guy who ended up being a biker gang President, but I actually take partial blame for that – I told a bunch of half-truths and she jumped to her own conclusions.

Just go inside the bakery and meet Robert, she says sternly. I’m grabbing my keys and I’m getting ready to walk out the door. I can hear her keys jingling.

Mom, I start to argue, before she cuts me off.

They have banana nut bread, she interjects with a sing-song voice.

Damn, she knows my weakness. Fine, I verbally pout. I kick a rock on the sidewalk like the mature adult I am. I’ll go there for the bread, not the mystery man, I clarify.

See you soon, dear, she says, hanging up.

I shove my phone in my back pocket and button my cardigan up halfway. There’s a slight cool breeze in the air and Fall is definitely here. I look at the shops on this side of the sidewalk. Cute little mom-and-pop shops and boutiques are along this stretch of the road. I look at the signs of the shops and the bakery stands out. For Goodness Bakes, the sign announces.

I take a fortifying breath and open the door, a bell tinkling overhead. It is sensory overload walking in the bakery. The first sense assaulted – in a positive way – is my sense of smell. Immediately walking in the bakery, the smell of sugar, yeast, and coffee hit me like a brick wall. The second sense assaulted is sight. The entire bakery is clean and bright. A wall of windows lets in natural morning light. The white trim with a bright seafoam green paint on the walls makes everything cheery and refreshing. The laminate hardwood floors make the place look homey and a mix of refined and relaxed. The bakery is devoid of customers at the moment, but there are three insanely good-looking men behind the counter and their attention is completely centered on me.

Good morning, one man, dressed like a lumberjack, greets me with a smile. A second man smiles and the third man nods, then walks in the back.

Uh, good morning, I say awkwardly. The longer I stand there, the more I notice the subtle notes of vanilla and chocolate wafting through the air. Oh, thank goodness, y’all have coffee, I say sheepishly. I take a step forward and peruse their menu.

We sure do. Jim knows how to brew some great coffee, Lumberjack Man says, patting Jim’s shoulder. Jim blushes.

Great! Normally I’m a black coffee kind of girl, but I’m willing to try something new, as long as it doesn’t mess up my taste buds. I was told you guys make awesome banana nut bread and I’m jonesing for some, I tell them with a warm smile.

Do you know what you want for coffee? Jim asks.

I shake my head. What are the chances I could just tell you to make whatever you think is best? I ask.

I’ve got just the thing, Jim answers. Go sit down and we’ll bring it out to you, he says, getting to work on my coffee.

I won’t forget to pay, I tell them. My mom is coming soon.

It’s fine. Relax and take a load off this morning. It’s Friday, which means the weekend is here in a few hours! Lumberjack grins.

Maybe for you, not me. Today is more or less my Sunday night. I’m on call right now, but I don’t technically begin my shift until later tonight, I tell them.

Nurse? EMT? Jim asks over the whirring of the coffee grinder.

Detective in Abernathy, I answer, settling into a very comfortable chair at a nearby table.

Oh, Abernathy! What a nice place. We’ve been there a few times. Alejandro’s is a wonderful Mexican restaurant, Lumberjack tells me.

Oh man, Alejandro himself makes the best guacamole! Go there during the lunch hours if you have a chance; you’ll catch him on site and if you tell him I sent you, he’ll make you his special guacamole. Don’t ask me what he puts in it, but no one there makes it like he does, I answer gleefully.

Jim comes to my table with a steaming cup of coffee and a thick slice of banana nut bread on a plate. Here you go. I did black coffee and added a very small hint of chocolate to it. I think you’ll appreciate the simplicity.

Oooh, that sounds delicious, I smile, grabbing the coffee eagerly. I take a small sip and groan in happiness. That is absolutely phenomenal, and I’m so mad about it.

Why mad? Jim asks.

Because I can’t come here every morning before work and have this and you’ve now ruined black coffee for my plebeian ass. You’ve given me a taste of how the other half live and I don’t know what to do with myself now, I moan. Jim and Lumberjack laugh.

So, what brought you here? Lumberjack asks, leaning against the counter.

My mom’s insane ideas, I tell them, rolling my eyes. She’s trying to set me up with a man named Robert. Apparently we’re supposed to meet here, although I don’t see him, may I point out. And then, because blind dates can’t be bad enough, she’s adding to it by, I guess, coming and supervising said date. I slump in my seat and notice Jim and Lumberjack exchanging a funny look. What’s with the faces? I ask, motioning between them.

Robert’s our friend but I don’t think you’re meeting him for a date, Lumberjack says.

I raise an eyebrow. You don’t know my mom…she’s always setting me up on blind dates. I’m sure she set this up, forgot about it, and suddenly remembered it. It’s a long story, I say, shaking my head dismissively. I take another sip of the coffee and savor it, the flavor bursting on my tongue.

We’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast, Lumberjack says. We need to go in the back; holler if you need us.

I sit there, happily munching on banana nut bread and enjoying the huge mug of coffee. I keep watching the door, waiting for this Robert dude to show up, but it appears he’s a no-show. Frankly, I can’t blame the guy. If I were a normal man without crazy issues, I’d certainly steer clear of both a mother and her daughter she’d set me up with. I try not to be agitated, though, by my mom’s lateness and the no-show douchebag’s absence. I consider calling my best friend Carrie to talk to her about this latest burst of insanity from my mom when my mom comes walking down the sidewalk. Finally, I huff to myself.

The door chime tinkles as she opens it. Good morning, sweetheart, she says, walking to me, setting her purse down on an empty chair. She turns to look at the menu and the bakery counter chock full of muffins, tarts, and personal sized quiches.

Jim! I holler loudly.

My mom turns around, shocked by my seemingly abysmal behavior. Ali! You do not yell in restaurants; what are you, five?

They told me to holler for them! I say, defending myself.

That we did, Jim says, smiling, coming around the corner from the back. What can I get for you, ma’am?

She orders a latte and a spinach mushroom quiche and joins me at the table. Jim brings her food quickly and she hands him her credit card.

Oh, thanks, Mom. You didn’t have to buy my breakfast, I say, rubbing her arm.

It’s the least I can do for arriving late. How did things with Robert go? Have you checked out the packages here? she asks with a conspiratorial smile.

No! I hiss, shocked at her question. I did not check out their packages, Mom. What is wrong with you? And no, Robert hasn’t even showed up!

I apologize for my delay. I was sorting out an issue with one of my cakes, a man I presume to be Robert says, sneaking up on our table like a ninja. I have no idea how I didn’t see him coming but decide to blame it on my mom-induced shock. I’m Robert, he says, shifting a clipboard to his left hand and holding out his right for me to shake it.

I shake his hand. I’m Ali, and I’m sorry my mom is wasting your time. I think she tried to set us up on a date, I say pointedly.

I can assure you she won’t succeed. My fiancée, Jake, and I run this place, Robert says warmly. Lumberjack – who must be Jake – waves from behind the counter.

Oh Jesus. I am sorry. Can’t we just…blame it on…something? Anything? Please? I ask, covering my face. I wish there was a giant hole in the floor to swallow me up permanently.

We’re fine. She was probably talking about some of our catering packages, Robert chuckles. I thump my head on the table ungraciously. God must truly hate me.

Oooh, let’s see a pamphlet about your catering packages, Mom says eagerly, rubbing her hands together.

Catering packages? I say meekly, lifting my head up from the table.

Yeah, we can do finger sandwiches, breakfast foods like muffins and tarts, or even some dessert items, Robert says. I just need to know what you’re into in regards to flavors. Like, are you a sweet or savory person?

Savory, I answer. But wait. What event are you wanting to cater, Mom, and why am I being dragged into it? I ask, turning my head towards her.

You’re dating one hell of a man, Ali, and it’s good to be prepared for when James proposes to you, she says, beaming.

I barely manage to refrain from spewing my chocolatey coffee everywhere. Whoa, whoa, I say, my hands waving in front of my body in a Halt! motion. Mom, we’re not even dating, and I’ve told you this a hundred times, I say exasperatedly, shooting an apologetic look towards Robert, who’s looking on with thinly veiled interest.

It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. There’s a lot that goes into wedding planning, you know, she says primly. There’s the rehearsal dinner, the breakfast for the bridal party, the reception, a wedding breakfast… she says, counting on her fingers.

This isn’t Regency England where we have wedding breakfasts to celebrate the arranged marriage, I point out. And isn’t this a little cart-before-the-horse? We’re – yet again – not dating. And we aren’t engaged, so there’s no way we’re getting married any time soon.

So you’re saying there’s a chance! Mom says, winking at Robert, who’s unable to stifle a grin.

I stare at my mom, completely stunned at how she jumped to that conclusion. However, I’m rescued from having to formulate a response to what she said by my cell phone going off. I look down at it – dare I say thankfully? – and it’s the station calling. I frown slightly, confused as to why they’re calling. My shift doesn’t actually begin until closer to mid-afternoon. Detective Rivers, I answer.

Yes, Detective. We got a call from a location and you were requested specifically by name, a dispatch officer tells me.

What do you mean? I ask. Mom is looking at me, wondering what’s going on, but after years of dealing with my dad as a cop and now me, I’m sure she already knows what’s about to happen.

The location is outside the town proper, but the reporting party specifically requested you and Detective Crews come out, the officer explains.

Well, this can't be good. Do I even want to know the name of the reporting party? I ask.

The reporting party gave his legal name and said you'd probably come running. It's someone named Richard Wilbur Miller..? the officer answers.

Oh for shit's sake. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be en route immediately. Did you already inform Jerry? The officer tells me Jerry’s already on his way. Alright, thanks again. I’ll be on my way, but I’m not in Abernathy, so it might take me a bit longer to get there. I hang up and gather my keys. I swallow the last bit of coffee and stand up. I’m sorry, Mom. Duty calls. I love you! I throw hastily behind me, rushing to the door.

Bye, love you! Be careful! Mom calls out after me.

--

I slide to a stop on the dirt road leading up to none other than The Saints' compound outside of town. I see Jerry’s car on the side of the road, obviously with him waiting for me to arrive. I knock on his window. Morning, partner, I grin down at him.

Morning, kiddo, Jerry politely returns. Jerry Crews and I go way back. He’s known me literally my entire life. He and my dad were very good friends and partners for a short time with Abernathy PD. When my dad died, I think Jerry must have taken some oath to keep an eye on me because the second I became a detective, he got himself partnered with me in Homicide. We have a unique relationship. He fully sees me as an equal, but he’s also kind of my second father-slash-uncle. It’s complicated but it works for us. Any idea what Blaze is wanting with us out here?

Not a clue, Jer. Dispatch didn’t say anything to me at all – just told me to show the hell up here, I shrug. Let's do this.

Jerry gets out of the car and locks it. After you, partner, he says, arm extended in front of him.

A few lone stragglers meet us outside. You must be the detectives who were called out, one says.

Well, we're certainly not strippers, Jerry quips.

A few laugh, but one leers at me. I don't know, one of you could be.

I'm sorry, I left my g-string at home with my stripper glitter and mint flavored condoms, Jerry says dryly, to more laughter.

They try to take our guns like they did during our first encounter on their compound, but there must have been a look on my face that made them reconsider. They tell us to wait while a few of them go in to get Blaze.

Blaze comes out a minute later looking elated. Detective Crews! Dollface! My God, it is good to see you two today, even if it is under such sad conditions. He sounds like a king greeting his subjects.

Blaze, good to see you again. What made you request our presence today? Jerry says, trying to get down to business.

Blaze is the President of The Saints. They’re a pretty ruthless biker gang – sorry, club, as Blaze would say – around Tennessee. They’ve made a name for themselves in violence and suspected illegal activity. Mostly, however, the charges never seem to stick. Blaze has maintained a weird obsession with me and I have no idea what to do with it. He was framed – pretty well, actually – with a double murder a while back and it was my gut that helped prove his innocence. Blaze has a major crush on me, and he never misses an opportunity to hit on me, offer me a healthy dose of sex, or try and convince me to take a walk on the opposite side of the law. Blaze is also an incredibly violent man. I’ve seen it firsthand. He shot a man in the shoulder, stabbed another guy in the eye, and pistol-whipped a third guy when I was taken as a hostage. He rescued me and saved my life. As horrible as that some of that sounds, there’s another aspect to Blaze that is hidden deep, deep down. He’s extremely protective of me, almost like an older brother. He comes into my house unannounced all the time, which has forced me to pull my gun on him several times. Blaze is very good at toeing the legal line with me and tries to keep me from getting too deep into his world.

Hey, Blaze, I answer nonchalantly with a little wave. What shit are you dragging us into now? I ask, cocking my hips to the side and placing my hands on my hips.

The stale smell of weed, sex, and sweat assault me like they did the last time I was here. The men inside grow quiet when Jerry and I walk inside the compound’s main building. It’s as if they’re trying to decide how okay they are with having two cops in their territory. They’re assessing and judging us both. They’re probably wondering if we’re going to bust their asses over the weed in the room and the guns on their hips and on the walls. However, given the amount of respect Jerry and I have garnered among these guys, you’d think they’d know we’re not here to waste time checking gun serial numbers. It’s mildly offensive, the lack of trust.

So, you were saying..? prompts Jerry.

Right. So, the reason we wanted y'all out here is because you're the only two police detectives I know that will give me a fair shake and won't automatically jump to conclusions, he says, glancing at both of us. I was checking the security feeds this morning, like I do every morning. I've actually updated it since the last giant clusterfu- I mean, catastrophe. I added infrared and night vision optics to the cameras and also put in more cameras to extend our field of view.

What does that have to do with us? Jerry asks.

This. I found this this morning. I'm reporting a murder. It happened in the field next to our property. I can't be certain, but to my knowledge, the land is unclaimed. Anyway, there's a body out there, and I'm not messing around or joking when I say I didn't do it, nor did any of my men. Blaze looks completely serious. My men haven't been out there at all, so to my knowledge the body and scene are untouched. Go have at it and do your thing.

Well, first, show us the video you’re talking about, I tell him, gesturing to the computer monitor.

Sure thing. Blaze turns the monitor around with the video already queued up. This is the east side of the property, but it’s fairly far away from the main buildings. He presses play.

The video quality is stunning. Blaze, I think the video is queued up to the wrong time, I hedge.

No, it’s the right time. He points to the bottom of the screen where it says very clearly 0220.

Is your clock off or something? I ask, very confused. I mean, it’s not that sunny at 2:20 in the morning.

Blaze leans back in his chair and chuckles. Yes, Dollface, the clock is accurate, the video is correct. I bought some exceptionally good cameras.

I blink and raise my eyebrows in surprise. Wow, I guess night vision has really strayed from just the black and green video, I say, laughing at myself.

Oh, yes ma’am, it’s gotten a lot better, especially when you can afford to dump an exceptional amount of money, he gushes. The pixel quality is great and I picked some top of the line type stuff. Pavel – I assume you somewhat remember him – helped me out with it.

I smile genuinely. It seems like he’s really excited. Why the change? I ask.

The video really saved my ass all those months ago. I just realized if there were more video cameras, you would’ve had more information to go on, which would have also helped exonerate me sooner. Plus, better security around here is better for everyone. He shrugs. I took the money from my personal accounts.

Wow, that’s rather proactive of you, I say. Good on you, Blaze.

I’ve learned from mistakes, he says modestly.

This is great, but can we get back to the video now? Jerry asks pointedly.

Oh. Yeah, sorry, Jer. I straighten and nod at Blaze to hit play – again.

We watch the video. It’s sped up a little bit, but once the action starts, Blaze slows it down. We see a male running through the field. The grass comes up to his waist, but there’s an awful lot of man left uncovered. He somehow is managing to move stealthily but quickly through the grass and, at one point, he hunkers down low. We can see him occasionally looking back and at one point he flinches, but covers his arm. It’s pretty clear he got hit by something – I’m guessing a bullet. He crouches down in the grass where only his head is sticking out. It’s difficult to see his face, though, from the angle and the way the man is trying to keep his head down. The man who was shot runs slightly off camera to a partially downed tree, where he takes his hat off and puts the hat on the tree, crouches down, and moves away. A man with a gun runs towards the hat, then slows down and creeps up to where the hat is. He takes direct aim and fires three rounds to the hat. As he is firing the rounds, the injured man sneaks around and grabs the man with the gun from behind in a headlock of sorts. A second later, the man with the gun crumples to the ground. The injured man steps around the other guy, grabs his hat, and walks carefully through the grass.

Wow. And you guys didn’t hear anything? Jerry asks.

I heard some guys talking about some pops they heard, but they assumed it was from tree limbs snapping or something. It wasn’t anything that would really raise alarm for these guys, anyway, Blaze answers. He stands up. I’ve made some copies of this for you. I’ve also made copies of all the video feeds from around this time frame so you could get a more complete picture.

The man thinks of everything, Jerry says.

Can’t get to where I am today without thinking ahead, Blaze comments with a piercing gaze. It sends a little chill down my spine.

Blaze leads us out of his office and back to the front yard. The birds are chirping and I can make out a hawk flying above us, headed in an eastern direction.

I smile and look at Jerry, then focus again on the hawk. Let’s go check this out before we call in Daniel and Elmer. Jerry nods and starts to head out.

I’ll be here if you need me, Dollface, Blaze says.

We wander east and take note of the trampled grass. We find the downed tree and walk over to it. We can see a lot of flies buzzing around, but thankfully there’s not much of a dead person smell. We haven’t come across any blood drops in the soil, so I can assume it was probably absorbed already. Another small blessing is that it’s not dreadfully hot yet, so we’re not completely roasting. Sure enough, there’s a dead body crumpled in a weird, unnatural position. The gun is on the right side of the body, somewhat in front. I note the dead guy has gloves on his hands, too, which I personally find weird given the warmth of summer. I look around and see nothing else off-hand, so I get my phone out and call Daniel and Elmer. I also call for a little backup so we can cordon off a large part of the field and search for bullet holes in trees and bullet fragments on the ground.

Good ol’ Officer Reynolds shows up first with his partner. Then it’s the rookie and his temporary FTO, since Smith is still out with his wife. After a few more minutes, three more officers show up, so we wait for Elmer and Daniel and his team to get here. Meanwhile, Jerry and I gather everyone together.

Listen up. We’ve got a dead body, but the area we need to search can be pretty extensive. For now, let’s wait until Dr. Flannigan and Daniel show up and do their thing, then we can start looking for bullets, Jerry says. They all nod in understanding. Reynolds, Jerry beckons, go inside and talk to Blaze. Get his statement, please.

Reynolds eyes go wide. You want me to talk to him?

He knows he’s going to need to give a statement, so just do it, Reynolds, I say rather shortly. I cringe as he nods and quickly runs off to go do as ordered. Sorry, I say to Jerry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so rude; I just didn’t want to deal with the crap. Jerry just shrugs.

A minute later, we hear Elmer and Daniel’s vehicles heading our way and we flag them down. Good morning, Ali, Elmer says.

Morning, Dr. Flannigan, I say with a small smile.

Jerry looks at me with surprise on his face. Did you just call him by his actual name? he asks me.

Sure did. Thought I’d keep everyone on their toes, I say with a cheeky smile. Come on, the body’s this way.

Elmer follows me until we get close to the body. Jerry and Daniel and his team aren’t far behind us. Daniel’s team fans out to do their thing while Jerry and I hang back watching Elmer work. Elmer walks around the body first.

And no one touched the body? he asks.

Just the murderer, as far as we know, says Jerry.

Okay, Elmer responds. He