Killer Summer

27

Walt sat at his desk, looking at printouts of three e-mails, each a criminal record, while Tommy Brandon tried to look comfortable in the small room’s only other chair. His six-foot-four frame made the chair look like something from Alice in Wonderland.

“You don’t see a sheet like Matthew Salvo anymore,” Walt said. “A second-story man, is what they used to call a guy like this.”

“I guess he’s an ATV man now,” Brandon said.

“He’s a bridesmaid,” Walt said. “All his arrests are as an accomplice. No assaults. Two charges of statutory, both pled out, so he obviously likes them young. Nothing else here to get him more than medium time and a pair of reduced sentences. He’s Matt Damon in those Ocean’s movies.”

“So, who’s George Clooney?” Brandon asked.

Walt wanted to say: “You are.” Because Brandon was undeniably handsome. He had piercing dark eyes, a strong chin, and perfect teeth. It was hard for Walt to look at him and not imagine Gail straddling him. There was nothing to break Walt’s spell, the grim porn movie running through his mind involving his soon-to-be ex-wife and his deputy.

“I doubt it’s this guy,” Walt said, tapping Roger McGuiness’s face. “He’s the wheel man. We can bet he drove the wrecker. One arrest, six years ago, no time served. He’s kept himself clean, which I imagine appealed to Clooney.”

“We issue a BOLO?” Brandon said. Be on lookout.

“Yes, for both. Ketchum and Sun Valley PDs need this. Ask them to walk these sheets around to the bars and hotels and property managers. Where do young girls hang out? The pool at the Y? Tennis courts? I’d put those on the list too. Let’s hope Matthew Salvo has been trolling during his free time.”

“Got it.” Brandon stood.

“Tommy,” Walt said, stopping him halfway to the door.

“Yeah?”

“The girls come home Monday.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly an I couldn’t care less, but it was close enough that Walt felt a stab in his chest. Brandon would never care about his kids the way he did.

“It’s been two weeks, the longest they’ve ever been away. I was thinking, it might be nice if Gail and I took them out to dinner. You know, just her and me. What do you think?”

“I think you’re asking the wrong person.”

“But you’re okay with it,” Walt said.

“What are you asking?”

Walt hesitated. “You think she’d be good with it?”

Brandon crossed his arms tightly. “Listen, Sheriff…”

“We sign the papers next week.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I imagine that sucks.”

Walt realized he should have kept his mouth shut. What was he doing talking to Brandon about any of this?

Neither man spoke. Walt’s silence was the result of countless sleepless nights spent on the couch or in one of the girls’ empty beds, anywhere but in the bed he and Gail had once shared. He silently suffered such heartache and physical pain that he’d sought a doctor’s opinion, not just once but several times, only to be told it was all in his head. Walt’s silence was the silence of defeat, regret, shame, and disgust.

“Well, hey, I ought to notify Ketchum and Sun Valley.” Brandon was blocking the doorway.

“Yeah,” Walt said, “go.”