What We Remember. Michael Thomas Ford

June said, cutting him off as if she’d expected the question. “I hear things. What’ll you fellows have?”

      “Just coffee,” James said.

      “Two,” said Frank.

      June left to get their coffees. Frank looked at James and shook his head. “Small town,” he said.

      “Well, we knew word would get around,” said James. “I’m sure everyone working at Nicky’s cabin went right home and told their wives.”

      June returned, carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee. Under her arm she had a folded-up newspaper. She set the mugs down and handed James the paper as she poured the coffee. “Front page,” she said.

      James opened the paper and took in the headline: BODY OF LOCAL SHERIFF FOUND 8 YEARS AFTER ALLEGED SUICIDE. He scanned the article beneath it, then looked up at Frank, who was watching him. “‘The body of former Cold Falls sheriff Daniel McCloud was found earlier this week at the site of a construction project near Pollard Lake. McCloud disappeared in 1983, and a letter received by his wife, Ada McCloud, suggested that he had committed suicide following a diagnosis of terminal cancer. With the discovery of his body, which was reportedly found inside a locked trunk buried at the site, the disappearance has been reclassified as a murder by current town sheriff Nate Derry, who happens to be McCloud’s son-in-law.’”

      James put the paper down. “So much for keeping it quiet,” he said. “How come he didn’t tell us this was going to hit the paper?”

      Frank raised one eyebrow. “He doesn’t tell us much,” he said. “He likes to be the one in charge.”

      “I noticed,” James said.

      “How’s Ada handling it?” asked Frank.

      “Pretty well, considering,” James answered. “She was kind of a mess at first. Didn’t want to believe it was him. I can’t blame her. We all thought this was behind us.”

      Frank set his mug down. “You know, I never believed that he killed himself,” he said.

      “Why?” James asked him.

      “I don’t really know,” Frank answered. “Just a feeling.” He laughed. “I always hated it when Dan said shit like that. But it always turned out he was right.”

      “Who do you think did it?” said James, asking the question that had been on his mind since he’d invited Frank to have coffee with him.

      “Hell if I know,” the deputy said. “We dealt with so many creeps over the years, it could have been any of them.” He looked up at James. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t mean it to sound like this is some John Doe we’re talking about.”

      “It’s all right,” James said. “I know.” He looked out the window as he drank his coffee. As he watched the sidewalk, Nate came around the corner, walking briskly toward the diner.

      “Here comes the boss,” James informed Frank, who followed his gaze and groaned.

      “I guess I should be going,” he said, standing up. “It’s good to see you, Jimmy. Give my best to your mom.”

      “I will,” James told him. “Thanks, Frank.”

      He watched Frank leave the diner. Outside, Frank waved to Nate, who stopped to talk to him. He seemed to be excited about something, and moved his hands around as he spoke. James saw Frank glance quickly toward the window, then look away.

      What’s that about? he wondered. He was tempted to go and ask, but something in Frank’s expression seemed to warn him not to. Had Nate learned something new? If so, why didn’t he come in and tell James what it was? His reluctance to include James in the investigation was irritating, but there was nothing James could do about it.

      When he looked out the window again, Frank and Nate were gone. They’d left in a hurry, so whatever Nate had wanted to tell Frank must have been important. James was tempted to stop in at the station again when he went for his car. But he knew that was a bad idea. I’ll find out soon enough anyway, he thought as he drained his cup.