That had really cut into Bell’s social group.
“We’ve been trying to get in contact with you. I left you a message,” Syder said. He shifted his attention to a spot behind Ledger’s shoulders. “A coffee, Al. Black, three sugars. And, um, an Almond Joy.”
That hadn’t changed. There had never been any candy left in Ledger’s stash after his dad’s poker nights with Syder.
“I didn’t get it,” Ledger said.
That wasn’t entirely true. He’d seen the missed call when he got to the airport and checked the number. The message from Sutton County Sheriff’s Department had been in his voicemail ever since. He just hadn’t listened to it.
“I didn’t think you’d be so eager to come home,” Syder said. “Thought I’d catch you still in… where was it again? New York?”
“Ithaca,” Ledger said.
“New York State,” Syder said. He looked expectantly at Ledger, who stepped aside so the sheriff could get his coffee and candy bar. The gas station attendant waved off the offer of payment, and Syder let it happen. He took a sip of his coffee. It stained the ends of his mustache dark and spiky. “Seems a shame to go that far but never quite make it to the big city itself.”
“I’m happy enough where I am,” Ledger said.
Syder lifted the cheap polystyrene cup in a sardonic toast. “Isn’t that all that matters,” he said. “I’m guessing you take that approach to running your business, too. It was not easy to find you. Dandy Lion Collectibles doesn’t even have a Facebook page. That’s odd.”
“My clients don’t use social media much,” Ledger said. He sidestepped around Syder and headed down the aisle. The sheriff tagged along. “And I spent enough time in the spotlight. These days I prefer to keep my private life private.”
It also made it a lot harder for Ledger’s competitors to shark a deal from under his nose. They didn’t need to be able to follow his movements by pictures of his shit diner burgers. That was none of the sheriff’s business, though
“Fair enough,” Syder said. He followed Ledger out through the door and onto the forecourt outside. The air smelled of spilled gas and the faint, fetid aroma of the grain bins down the road. Ledger paused to fish his keys out of his pocket. Syder put a weathered hand, all knuckles and scars, on Ledger’s forearm to stop him. “Since I’ve got you, Mr. Conroy, there are a few things I want to ask you.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s right,” Ledger said. He looked down at where Syder still had hold of his arm. “You want to let go of me?”
Syder considered that and then did as he was asked.
“I could threaten you,” he said. “A man who likes his privacy probably doesn’t want his dad’s dirty laundry following him to his nice, clean new life.”
Ledger smiled. He knew the smile. If he had to see it in a mirror, it pissed him off. It was the Conroy smile, cornered-rat mean and sharp. It said that he’d rather burn the fucking church down with him in it than go quietly.
RIP, Great-Uncle James.
“Let’s workshop that,” Ledger said. “You start.”
The corner of Syder’s mouth tilted up into his mustache. “Not the right approach, huh?”
“It’s not,” Ledger said. For one thing, being Bell Conroy’s son would probably get Ledgermorebusiness. It had never been a huge problem for him, but there were people—to use the term loosely—who didn’t like to do business with someone when they didn’t know where he came from. The other reason… “Because there’s nothing I can tell you. I’ve not spoken to Bell since I left. Whatever secrets he had, they died with him.”
Syder looked away, his jaw clenched under the scruff of beard. His mouth tightened around those tombstone dentures that had been real teeth fifteen years ago.
“I got a new deputy,” he said. “Mallory Jenkins. That’s her stepdad’s name. She used to be Mallory—”
“Bennett,” Ledger said. “They buried her dad without his eyes.”
“She tried to talk to Bell. That didn’t go well.”
“It wouldn’t.”
Syder snorted. “Yeah, I told her that,” he said. “But people want to put their loved ones to rest. Put their nightmares to rest.”
“If they work out how,” Ledger said, “let me know.”
