The Buck Stops Here by Mindy Starns Clark Page A

where I was employed at the time of Bryan’s death. My boss back then, Preston Gulliford, had kept an eye on the legalities surrounding Bryan’s death for me right up until the day Sparks pleaded guilty and was sent to prison for manslaughter. I thought Preston might be just the person to contact now.
    Leaning back against the headboard, I propped a pad of paper on my knees for taking notes. If Preston was the same workaholic he used to be, he would still be at the office, just settling in for a few more hours of work. Sure enough, I used the company directory to get his extension, and a moment later he answered the phone himself.
    “Preston Gulliford.”
    “Preston? This is Callie Webber. How are you?”
    “Callie Webber?” he cried. “Talk about a voice from the past! How are you, dear?”
    We talked for a while, catching up, and I found myself feeling oddly nostalgic for the time I spent working at the law firm. There was no comparison to my job with the J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation, of course, but I had always liked the firm and its partners, and Preston had been my favorite of all. An older, fatherly-type fellow, we were already friends when I learned that his hobby was making hand-hewn canoes. He and his wife had invited Bryan and me to dinner a few times, and we always ended up out back in Preston’s fancy workshop, talking wood buoyancy and water displacement.
    “So what can I do for you tonight?” he asked. “I’m sure you didn’t call just to catch up.”
    “No, Preston. If you have a minute, I actually need to ask you some things about my husband’s death. You handled all of that for me at the time, but some new issues have come up, and I’m hoping you might have some answers.”
    “Well, sure, Callie. I’ll do my best.”
    “First of all, I need to know if the name ‘Tom Bennett’ means anything to you.”
    “Tom Bennett. I don’t think so. Should it?”
    “I’m just wondering if his name ever came up during that time. He would’ve been connected with James Sparks in some way.”
    “Hmm. I don’t recall, but I could check the file. Why don’t you hold on and I’ll see if I can find it.”
    The whole time I was holding, I expected him to come back to the phone and tell me the file was missing. Instead, when he returned, I could hear him flipping pages.
    “You said Tom Bennett?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t see anything here…”
    His voice trailed off as he continued to page through the file. Finally, he spoke again.
    “Nope,” he said. “Sorry. No one in here by that name.”
    “Okay,” I replied. “Then let’s move on. I’m wondering if you can tell me where Sparks ended up. I know he got manslaughter, but I don’t even know—”
    “He’s at the state penitentiary, down near Surry. He got sixteen years, so even if that gets cut in half with good behavior, he’d still be in there now.”
    “Good. Okay, that’s what I needed to know.”
    “You’re not thinking of filing suit against him, are you, Callie? Because the statute of limitations—”
    “No,” I said, “no suits. It’s just information I’m after now. What do we know of Sparks?”
    I knew my question sounded stupid, but I had never asked much about the man, instead leaving Preston to handle all of the legal matters on my behalf. I think I wanted to keep Sparks at arm’s length, sort of a nameless, faceless entity. It was easier to blame him that way.
    “Let’s see, I’ll tell you what’s in my notes here.” Again, I could hear pages being flipped in the background. “This is from a deposition we had with him. He says he was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia…went to Georgia State, worked after that as a sales associate…”
    “Where?”
    “Looks like a place called Silmar Systems in Atlanta. Had numerous DUIs, pled guilty to manslaughter, and got sixteen years. That’s about all I know of the man personally.”
    “What was he doing in Virginia when Bryan was killed?”
    “According to him,