Nobody Knows Your Secret

71

 "Hey, Bill," Hadley said, pulling behind Bill's stalled sheriff's car.

"Broke down," Bill said. "I'm waiting for Wallace to come give me a tow back to the station."

Just then, a call came over Bill's radio, "Possible 10-100."

An address was given.

"Oh, no," said Bill. "Elwin and Wayman are stuck in court. Their radios are off. This couldn't happen at a worse time."

"What's a 10-100?" Hadley asked.

"Possible dead body," Bill said.

"Come on," Hadley said. "I don't own a siren, but the engine runs, and the tires roll."

"I'll drive," Bill said.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hadley said, sliding over onto the passenger's side of the car.

The car went speeding down the road.

Good thing I buckled up, Hadley thought. She looked over at Bill. His face wore a look of total concentration.

He has to be completely focused, she thought, or we'd wind up in a ditch. How does he do this, day in and day out?

She had always respected her brother-in-law, had thought him a fine man, but her esteem for him jumped two-million-gazillion percent in just those few seconds.

He doesn't make enough, Hadley thought. Not nearly enough.

Hadley's car flew down the back roads. Bill took a hard left at a dirt road with a rusting mailbox at its end.

"The county will probably owe you a paint job after this," Bill said, brush and limbs flicking off the speeding car.

"Don't worry about it," Hadley said. "I was thinking of getting a newer model anyway."

"At this rate, you'll be able to get about 50 cents for this trade-in," Bill said, suddenly becoming silent as they neared a clearing with a small double-wide trailer nested among the grass.

"Isn't this Hardy Branwell's place?" Hadley said. "It's been years since I was here."

"Yeah," Bill said, pulling up near the door. "Stay in the car."

***

The trailer door was swinging open. A very old man was standing outside in the yard. Bill walked up to him. They talked for a time.

Bill disappeared inside the trailer. His gun had been drawn.

Hadley felt like every nerve in her body had been lit with matches. She was on fire with curiosity and apprehension and fear.

Bill stepped outside.

It's Hardy," he said, flatly. "There's a suicide note. The old man came around to see if Hardy wanted to sell an old truck Hardy kept out back. He saw Hardy take the gun and kill himself."

"How awful," Hadley said.

"Everything the old man says rings true. The trailer doesn't look like it's been cleaned in a month of Sundays. Note says he couldn't go on."

"That's it?" Hadley said.

"Yeah," Bill said. It's just a handwritten note signed with Hardy's name. All it says is 'I can't go on like this. Forgive me, Candy. Dearest love.'"

"Dearest love. Could be the last words of a father to a daughter or a lover."

"What are you talking about?" said Bill.