The Morelville Mysteries Collection

Chapter 16 – Mel: Death Defying

Chapter 16 – Mel: Death DefyingTuesday started for me with the realization that Sally was still in a holding cell. I was pretty sure now that she didn’t take a shot at my sister but she was still going to get her day in court. I resisted the temptation to go down and try and talk to her. I just didn’t want to hear her crap or mess up any chance of getting convictions for her for stalking and trespassing. Not today. I needed to do what I could to help Dana find Relic. Sally was on her own.

I had a few local informants of my own. I decided to go out and round a couple of them up and see what I could find out. First though, I called my mom.

“Hey mom, it’s Mel.”

“Of course it is, sweetie.”

“Are you at the hospital?”

“Yes dear.”

“How’s Kris?”

“The doctor was just in. They’re saying they’re going to release her in the next hour.”

“Are you taking her to the farm?”

“Yes. We came over in the Ranger. Your dad’s about to go back and get the car.”

“Mom, I can come over there in my truck and get her and drive her out there so he doesn’t have to do that.”

“Honey, you have to work. I couldn’t put you to that kind of trouble.”

“Ma, she’s my sister and I feel responsible for her. It’s no trouble.”

“Why do you feel responsible for her?”

Oops! “It’s a figure of speech ma. I’ll be right over there.” I hung up before she could protest again. I knew though that I’d stuck my foot in my mouth and that I’d hear again about feeling responsible for what happened to Kris. My mom wasn’t the strong silent type like my dad. In fact, Faye Crane was the polar opposite of Junior Crane. I often wondered how they’d stayed together all these years!

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We got Kris situated as comfortably as she could be on the sofa in the front room at the farm. She was scheduled to start physical therapy the following week. For now, she was still on some pretty heavy pain killers that left her groggy. While she was still awake and somewhat lucid, I tried to talk with her about what happened.

“Kris, what do you remember about what happened Saturday night?”

“Not much. I remember you leaving. I was in the kitchen scrounging up snacks for the kids. I had just told Beth to get out of her riding pants when Cole yelled something from the living room. I couldn’t hear him. I stepped in there to ask him to repeat himself. He started to tell me about something that was coming on television when everything seemed like it exploded. The window burst and I felt a searing pain in my shoulder. I don’t remember very much of anything after that.”

“Did you see anyone outside the window or did you see a car leaving?”

“No. I honestly don’t remember anything sis. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry. That’s me! I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t shoot me!”

“I should never have left that night.”

“And how would that have stopped what happened?” She searched my face. I couldn’t hold her gaze and looked away toward moms’ family photo wall.

“Kris, that bullet was meant for me.”

“Well, I kind of figured it had something to do with your work but you couldn’t have known it was coming, Mel.”

“My family shouldn’t have to suffer for my work.”

“There’s nothing you could have done to stop it.”

“What’s all this about?” Mom came into the room.

I shot my sister a look but she had her eyes squeezed closed in either pain or concentration. I couldn’t be sure which.

“Mel thinks she’s to blame for what happened to me.”

“Is that true Melissa Raye?”

Uh oh! She’s using my middle name. This isn’t going to be good... “Yes ma’am.”

“And just why do you think that?” Her face reddened.

“I think it’s related to a case I’m working on.”

“Someone shot your sister to send you a warning?”

I didn’t think of that... “I don’t think it happened like that. I think someone was trying to get me and thought Kris was me.”

“Hogwash! Everyone around here can tell you two apart!”

“Mom, whoever shot Kris probably isn’t from around here.” I was trying to be gentle but I could see that my mother was getting pretty agitated.

“Just what have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”

“Ma, I’m the Sheriff.” I looked toward Kris. She had nodded off. I put my hand on my mother’s shoulder and guided her out of the room. “We can talk in the kitchen.” We walked through the house in an uncomfortable silence. She turned from me at the doorway into the kitchen, what was really the heart of the old farmhouse.

“Your father went out to check the horses and the herd. He’ll want coffee when he comes in.” She busied herself making a pot. I took a seat at the scrubbed little table they’d had for years. I was sitting where Dana had been sitting only yesterday while I made sandwiches.

She pointed at me. “You start talking. Tell me what’s going on.”

“There isn’t a whole lot to tell. I’ve been working on a counterfeiting investigation. There are two guys that aren’t from around here that are in custody.” I decided it wasn’t in my best interest to mention our local bad bill passer just yet. “It seems they’re mixed up in some other stuff that crosses into a federal investigation. The agent working on that has been in town, poking around too. Someone’s ticked off about it all.” I didn’t want to say a whole lot. Giving my mother the down and dirty details wasn’t going to help anyone.

Dad came in and nodded to us both. Mom took him down a coffee cup from the cupboard and handed it to him.

“If you have two guys already in custody from your investigation, why are you involved in the federal investigation and putting yourself and your family in danger?” She paused for a moment and then glared at me. “I’ll tell you what, I knew we would rue the day you went into police work!”

“Now Faye simmer down.” My dad seldom stepped into any conversation he hadn’t been a party to in the first place but he could usually be counted on to claim his spot as the traditional man of the house and to ride herd over my mother. “What’s this all about?”

Mom started to speak but dad shot her a look.

“Kris was shot because someone mistook her for me due to an investigation I’m working and a federal one it ties into.” I paused and waited to see if he would require more information.

“I see.” He nodded. He looked at me and motioned for me to continue.

“We’re working as hard as we can to round up the people responsible and close out both investigations. Two men are now in custody as a result of my investigation and we’re hoping they lead us to what we need to close mine out completely and also to close out the investigation of the federal agent I’m working with.”

“Dana Rossi?”

“Yes.”

Mom had been silent long enough. “How do you know who she’s working with?”

“Met her,” dad said. Mom started to say something else but dad waved his hand and cut her off.

I continued; “Kris and the kids are safe here. I have security watching the house in town. If someone tries anything there again, we’ll nail them. Dana has leads she’s following up on and I have a couple of people I can talk to, to try and follow one that may lead me to someone in this area.”

Mom just couldn’t stay silent. “You be careful Melissa Raye! I hate you getting’ all mixed up in such things!”

“I’ll be careful ma. I promise. My end from here on is easy. I just have to talk to a couple of guys and see if they can point me to anyone who might be involved in some shady activities who goes by the nickname, Relic. Dana can take it...”

“Relic?” What would you be wanting with Delores?” dad asked?

“Pardon?”

Mom jumped in again. “Delores Chappell. She’s been known as Relic for years Mel. I know you know her. She lives right there in town a couple of blocks from you, Kris and the kids. Sweet woman but a little eccentric, if you ask me.”

“I know Ms. Chappell mom. She’s got to be 70. It’s not very likely that she’s who I’m looking for.”

Dad spoke again. “She isn’t quite that old Mel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he continued, “Her nickname doesn’t have anything to do with her age. She came by it because of her past work as the county historian and because of doing ancestry research for people.” He sighed. Our conversation had already gone on far too long for him.

I’d never heard Delores Chappell called anything but Ms. Chappell by anyone. She was “Ms.” because, as far as my peers and I knew at least, she’d never married and never had children. Personally, I often thought she might be “family”; stuck in a time warp closet in our little town. She had also never owned a computer – flat out refused to have one in her home - so hearing that she’d been the county historian and that she dabbled in genealogy was a real surprise to me. And, despite what my dad said, the woman wasn’t a day younger than 60 years old.

I got up and hugged my mother then clasped dads shoulder. “I have to get going. Duty calls. I love you both. Give my love to Kris when she wakes up and to the kids.”

“We will Mel. We love you too and, again, please be careful.”

“I will ma.” It was pointless to get frustrated with her. She really did mean well.

I took my leave and walked out to my truck. I was in uniform but I was driving my own vehicle given my mission to transport my sister from the hospital to the farm. I tugged at my vest. It had ridden up a little. I didn’t always put the heavy Kevlar protective piece on for my usual duties behind a desk but I always lugged it with me in case I got called out on the road. Today, because I was intending to go poking around among known criminals, I had thought it wise to wear it. Now, in the heat of an unseasonably warm spring day, I was thinking I might regret that decision.

I left the farm and drove into Morelville so I could cruise by the house. An unmarked county vehicle was sitting in the drive that ran behind an empty rental house two houses up from mine. I couldn’t see an officer around but then, that was the point. He would be low in the car or nearby keeping an eye on my house.

It was a relief knowing my guys were on the job. I continued through the village and turned off the state highway in favor of some back country roads that were a quicker route back to Zanesville than heading southwest to catch Route 60 and take it north along the Muskingum River. Thoughts of Dana flooded my mind as I drove.

I worried about her meeting with that lawyer. I worried even more about her meeting with DeShawn Dawes at Stateville. I knew she was a trained, competent professional but she had her vulnerable points and I didn’t want to see her hurt. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts about her, I didn’t notice the white, ¾ ton van that was gaining on me rapidly on the curvy road.

Out here, roads skirted around property lines and over hills. Everything was either rolling farm fields or dense forest. There wasn’t any reason for the county or the state to purchase any right of way rights. Everyone with un-forested land farmed and no one was in a hurry to get anywhere. Locals knew the twists and turns of all the back roads and where a hill fell away to the right or to the left as you crested it anyway and they drove everywhere in comfortable familiarity.

I picked up the van when it topped a hill about 100 yards behind me that fell away left. The driver was going too fast but he managed to slow down and correct before ditching the whole shooting match to the right in a heavily wooded area. I kept my eye on him. He no sooner had the vehicle righted then he began to pick up speed again and gain on me.

This guy is crazy! I wish I was in my county vehicle now. He wouldn’t be driving like a maniac if I was driving a truck with markings and a light bar!

I tapped my brakes a couple of times to try and make the driver aware that he was closing too fast. I realized my mistake and the amount of trouble I was in way too late. The van had an Illinois front license plate. The driver must have been lying in wait for me in Morelville. My deputies hadn’t spotted the van!

I had no radio, just my department cell. I fumbled trying to dial 911 and dropped the phone on the floor of the cab.

“f**k! I am so screwed!” I screamed out loud. I tried to watch the road while reaching around frantically for my phone.

I was on Cutler Lake Road headed toward the turn off at Mannsfork Road, just before Salt Creek, when the van rammed me with force from behind. My F-150 went fishtailing. I did my best to steer through it as I had been taught at the Academy all those years before. The van caught me again on the left rear quarter panel, turned me and railroaded me into the “Y” intersection of Cutler Lake and Mannsfork. I went sailing through the intersection sideways and toward the creek embankment. There was nowhere to go. I was headed for a splashdown in Salt Creek just off the Muskingum River. Drowning is not the way I want to die!