Last Light by C. J. Lyons

home.”
    At first Augusta looked as if she’d refuse but Lucy kept on talking until the younger woman finally nodded.
    “Good. I’ll be back in a jiff.” Lucy grabbed her laptop while the mother called her boys over to attack the huge rib-eye.
    As she drove out of town to the fast food establishments that lined the highway, she wondered about Sheriff Blackwell and his forfeiture policy. It was a legal gray area that many local jurisdictions had turned to their favor, but it sounded as if Caleb Blackwell might have edged into the realm of extortion. Maybe even a RICO enterprise if others teamed up with him in his profit-making scheme.
    After she returned with an armful of food for Augusta and her family, Lucy retreated to her room. She emailed Wash and asked him to compile a list of all the forfeiture auction items since Blackwell became sheriff as well as a list of their original owners. If Blackwell was extorting people traveling through his county, they’d need affidavits. How many had been arrested and had their property seized unjustly? And where was the money going? She had a friend who was a former IRS investigator and now worked for the FBI. Maybe he could help.
    Not her job, not any more, but still, it might give her some leverage on the sheriff. At least that was how she’d justify it to Valencia if need be. And if they did find that Blackwell was corrupt, it would be a coup for the Beacon Group, facilitating the FBI or IRS investigation that would be sure to follow.
    Finally, she curled up on her bed with her laptop propped up on a pillow before her. She pulled up the police reports Wash had emailed her—scanned versions of the originals, which had been typed and photocopied. So different from modern policing, where officers could enter notes from the mobile terminals in their vehicles or smartphone apps.
    But the language remained the same: sparse, painting a picture without coloring it with emotion, drawing no conclusions, merely presenting the facts. At least that was the idea, but there was an art to writing a good report: it told a story, a story subtly shaped by the reporting officer.
    The report on the Martin crime scene had been written by the former Blackwell County sheriff himself, Andrew Saylor. Lucy scanned the terse wording, imagining the actual event.
    Second on scene after Deputy Prescott, Sheriff Saylor detailed the deputy to maintain a perimeter then proceeded to secure the scene. Two vehicles were unattended in the driveway (see attached photos and sketch), one a Ford pickup (see attached registration), one a Subaru wagon (see attached registration). Neither had its lights on and the Subaru’s driver’s side rear door was open. Several bags of canned goods were on the drive near the open door (see attached inventory and photos).
    Sheriff approached the residence. Lights were visible in all front-facing windows and the front door was noted to be ajar. On entry the body of a Caucasian male was found to be partially obstructing the door’s opening (see photo and sketch attached), victim was subsequently identified as Peter Martin, homeowner.
    Living room and dining/kitchen areas appeared undisturbed. Grocery bags were on the kitchen table (see attached photos and inventory) and there was evidence of recent consumption (see attached). All windows and exits were intact with no signs of disturbance.
    First bedroom entered revealed the presence of two deceased identified as Glory Martin (age 7 months) and Lily Martin, wife of homeowner and mother of Glory (see attached sketch and photos) along with multiple areas of blood spatter evidence. The scene was left intact once it was determined that no living occupants were present and that both mother and child had expired.
     
     
     
     
     

 
 
     
November 14, 1987
     
     
    DESPITE THE FACT that it was barely sunup on a Saturday morning, Sheriff Drew Saylor was already in his office. He’d been elected less than two weeks ago and was still