With Cruel Intent (56 page)

and he wanted to get a feel for who he

was dealing with before they filed formal

charges. For now he was being held on a

single charge, more evidence would be

necessary before the additional charges

could be laid by the district attorney.

Deputy Breland brought Seymour

to the office, his hands still cuffed behind

his back.

Sheriff Lupo greeted the two men

with a nod, "Deputy, I think we can

dispense with the cuffs."

The officer quickly removed the

cuffs allowing Seymour to rub the

soreness from his wrists, and Breland left

the office. The two men stood, sizing each

other up. The Sheriff spoke first, "Have a

seat Seymour, I wanted to have a chance

to talk with you before your mom and

friends have access to you."

"Is my mom here? How is she

doing? She's probably not taking this very

well. When will I get to see her?" The

questions came in a torrent. It had been

hours since he had talked to anyone that

would respond, and he had more questions

than answers.

"Slow down there a minute fella.

Let's take it a bit slower and I'll help you

out if you're willing to help me," he said,

keeping his voice soothing and even.

"Your mom is angry, as you can imagine, I

don't blame her, but she seems to be a

strong woman and will be okay. She's

given us permission to search your home

and farm. You okay with that?" The

Sheriff watched his eyes carefully for any

hint of deceit. There was none.

"Fine. I have nothing to hide; I've

tried to tell your people. I'm being set-up.

I have no idea where that gun came from."

"You've been read your rights, is

that correct?" Seymour nodded, he had.

"Fine, and you understand them?" Again a

nod, "They tell me you don't want an

attorney. If it's a matter of money we can

have a public defender assigned to you."

Seymour’s head hung low, looking

at his feet. "We don't have much money,

but it’s not a matter of money, it's a matter

of truth and innocence."

"Would

you

answer

some

questions for me and I have to tell you, I

will be recording our conversation,

okay?" the Sheriff asked, taking a pen and

preparing to take notes.

"Let's start with this past weekend.

Your mom says you were doing some

chores around the farm. Tell me what you

were doing and when, be specific as you

can."

"Well, I spent most of Saturday

with mom, like she said doing chores. In

the morning we did some weeding in the

garden by the house, then in the afternoon

and into the evening we took care of the

hay. You know, moving the bales to the

barn and storing the rest along side the

barn and covered it with tarps. We

finished after dark, had dinner, and

watched TV for a bit then went to bed.

Sunday we went to services in the

morning, and had lunch with some

neighbor friends. The rest of Sunday I did

homework and got ready for my school

week."

"That's fine; we can confirm much

of that. What did you have to eat Saturday

night?"

"Is that important?” Seymour

asked.

"It could be, your mom was

specific and I'd like to know if you can

remember as she did."

"Okay, let’s see. I know Sunday

night we were pretty full with the late

lunch with those friends and I think we

had soup, but Saturday after we cleaned

up from doing the hay we had pork and

beans. I remember cause I fried up the

bacon while momma got the rest together.

Is that right, is that what she said?"

"And what time do you think that

was?" the Sheriff continued.

"It was dark so I think about 7:00

or 7:30, thereabouts."

Lupo had seen liars and truth

tellers his entire career and prided himself

on being able to tell the difference. From

the few questions and responses he'd

reviewed with Seymour, he could tell he

had an honest man seated before him. He

looked him in the eyes, was forthright with

his answers, did not look to the ceiling to

retrieve lost information, and spoke with

conviction.

"Seymour, for a moment let's

suppose that you're not The Stalker and

you didn't shoot Jasper Jackson. Do you

have any enemies that would want to lay

this on you? Do you have any explanation

for that gun being in your locker?"

"That's the strange thing, Sheriff; I

get along with most everybody. I don't

hang out much with the other students but I

think I've got friends. Everybody at work

is great, never had any trouble there, and I

didn't even know this Jasper guy until

Blanche said you thought I shot him."

"Back up there a minute. Blanche

told you that we thought you had shot

Jasper?" he asked.

"And who is Blanche and how

does....wait a minute, I read a report with

her name attached. She's the young lady

that was with Jasper at the time of the

shooting. How are you involved with

her?"

Seymour was not quite sure how to

respond to the question but gave it his best

try, "Well, I work with her and I think

she's kind of my girlfriend."

"Could you be a bit more specific,

how is she kind of your girlfriend?"

"We've been friends since she

moved here from Arizona. We both work

at the library, anyway, last Friday night

we finally had a date and I think she likes

me as much as I like her," he declared.

"So let me get this straight, you

take this woman out on Friday, then she

goes out with another guy on Saturday, but

that guy ends up getting shot by a white

guy in a hoodie with sunglasses and a

baseball hat on," he was speaking more to

himself than Seymour.

"I guess, I haven't heard that much

about it except that I supposedly did it," he

smirked.

Lupo again keyed the intercom on

his desk, "Arlene, send Breland back in

here will ya."

A minute later the deputy stuck his

head in after opening the door, "Yup

Sheriff."

"Mrs.

Wood

has

given

us

permission to search their place, secure

her keys from her over in the conference

area and take Deputy Firth with you and

do a thorough search of the place. Take

Ricky with you and his forensics gear, tag

and bag anything that looks important. You

know what we're looking for from the

crime scenes. Have Arlene give you that

list I made up so you don't overlook

anything. Get out there asap and phone me

with what you find."

"Sure Sheriff, we're on it."

"And Breland, these are nice folks;

you take care not to damage any of their

belongings. You got that?" Angelo

confirmed.

"Thanks Sheriff. They aren't going

find anything cause I didn't do it,"

Seymour said, feeling the stress of the day

catching up to him, his energy all but gone.

Sheriff Lupo noticed the fatigue

setting in and stepped to his door,

"Arlene, fetch Seymour and myself a

sandwich and a coffee would ya?”

"Seymour, we still got the problem

of this gun. We can't let you just walk until

we, or you, can explain how a stolen gun

got into your possession. You say you

don't have any enemies, nobody that wants

to give you a hard time, but then why and

how?"

The accused had been searching

his memory all afternoon and could think

of no one specifically that would want to

set him up. He ran through his day prior to

them finding the gun and had no answers.

He shook his head side to side and raised

his hands indicating that he could be no

help. The two talked, Lupo taking notes

until the food arrived. They ate and talked,

Seymour giving the Sheriff as many details

as he could about the past month. What he

had done, what days he had worked, who

had he seen and when. The list was

extensive, giving the Sheriff a good idea

of who he was dealing with, and having

enough specifics that they could either

confirm he had alibis or put his neck

further into the noose.

At the end of what seemed like

hours to Seymour he was returned to his

cell and his visitors were allowed in.

Seymour stood close to the bars, his face

pressed between them so that he could

kiss, first his mom, then Blanche. Marcus

also leaned in for a kiss making Seymour

pull away and laugh, momentarily taking

his mind off his worries. Lillian cried as

Blanche held her close, her arm around

the woman's shoulders and comforting her

as much as she was able.

"We gave statements to that nice

young Deputy Guest, I think she's cute,"

his mom said.

"Yeah, how did it go?" her son

asked.

"We don't have anything to hide,

the truth will come out and quickly we

hope," she said.

"The Sheriff said they will have to

confirm my alibis so I can't go anywhere

until they know how I got the gun, or I

mean how the gun got in my locker," he

quickly corrected himself. "I guess I go

before the judge tomorrow around noon.

Will you be there?" he said to his mom,

noting that both women nodded in the

affirmative.

They spoke for the full hour

allotted them; a deputy broke up the

exchange around 8:00 p.m. Marcus agreed

to take both women home, dropping

Lillian off first, but they found her home

invaded by numerous sheriff vehicles and

personnel going through everything and

everywhere.

"Mrs. Wood, you can't stay here,"

Blanche said. "Go in, gather up what you

need for the night and come and stay with

me. I can make room and we can spend the

night consoling one another. How does

that sound?"

"Well, I would rather not be alone

tonight. Are you sure it's not too much

trouble? I hate to put you out," the older

woman spoke again on the verge of tears.

She ducked into the home for only

a few minutes before returning with an

overnight bag and her purse. Marcus

drove the pair to Caroline's Bed and

Breakfast with a promise to take care of

everything at the library, at least for

Tuesday, and anything beyond that would

have to be worked out between Blanche

and Mrs. Anderson. They exchanged

goodbyes and thank you's as he drove off

for home.

At

midnight

the

Sheriff's

Department was finally quiet. Lupo sat in

his office looking over the statements of

each of the four taken that afternoon. He

compared the dates and times of the

break-ins and assault with the sheets

before him, nothing seemed to come

together for him, no pattern, no clear

indication that Seymour could have done

the crimes. The prospect that perhaps he

was not working alone entered his mind

but the forensics did not support that.

Ricky would be taking a casting of

Seymour's foot in the morning and DNA

samples as well. Seymour had agreed to

both. On paper, face-to-face, on the

evidence and in his heart, 'The Wolf' knew

Seymour was innocent, which left a rather

sinister question. Who and for what

reason? Who else could be in danger,

perhaps Jasper was only the beginning.

As the Sheriff sat sipping his

eighth cup of coffee of the day, the phone

on his desk rang. He retrieved the portable

from the cradle and spoke, "Yeah, Lupo

here."

"Sheriff, Breland out at the Wood

house. Let me start by what we do have, a

motorcycle and it's a dirt bike, lime green

250cc Suzuki, older model. We also found

an old single shot hunting rifle and a few