McEvoy's eyes sharpened. "What new information?"
Randall almost smiled. "How long have you been sheriff here in Preble County?" he asked.
McEvoy pushed the wad of chewing tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. "What new information you got on the Beckett case?"
"Who was sheriff in 1974?" Randall asked, intrigued by the sheriff's sudden interest in a case he'd shoved to the bottom of his priority list.
"I don't remember."
"I'll bet someone down at the town hall would remember."
Rising, Randall looked at Addison. “Let's go.”
The sheriff's chair came forward along with the two hundred and fifty pounds of lawman. McEvoy swung his gaze to Addison and then back to Randall. "Why in the hell don't you people just tell me what you want instead of beating around the bush all goddamn day?"
Putting his hands on the desk, Randall leaned forward. "We want to see a police report from November 17, 1974."
An emotion he couldn't put a name to flickered in the other man's eyes. "What police report?"
"We're looking for a police report from November 16 or 17, 1974, involving Agnes Beckett," Addison said.
"Doesn't ring a bell.”
Randall's temper stirred. "Let me refresh your memory. She was sixteen years old. A minor, Sheriff, admitted to Good Samaritan Hospital in Dayton after being beaten and raped."
In his peripheral vision, he saw Addison stiffen.
The sheriff's face reddened. "I'm not sure where you're getting your information, Talbot, but I don't remember any such thing ever happening in my town."
"It happened right here in your tidy little town, Sheriff, and we'd like to see the report," Randall said icily.
McEvoy didn't flinch. "Siloam Springs is a small town. If something like that happened, I'd know about it. Nothing like that happened here. Not in 1974. Not ever."
Addison broke in. "Do you keep archive files? Would you mind looking for us? Surely there's a file or a police report for something as serious as a rape."
"I don't think that's possible."
The initial burst of real anger cut through Randall. "Why not?" he asked.
McEvoy grinned. "For one thing, you can't rape a whore."
Raw fury speared through Randall. Without considering the repercussions, he reached across the desk. Addison gasped when he grabbed the sheriff's collar and hauled him out of his chair. "I'll have your badge for that, you son of a bitch!"
"Back off, city boy, or I'll give you a lesson in small-town law enforcement you'll never forget." McEvoy's voice was ominous and low, like the rumble of a storm in the minutes before it wreaked havoc on an unsuspecting town.
Their faces mere inches apart, the two men stared at each other in impasse, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing and the shuffle of boots against tile.
"I want to see that goddamn file," Randall said.
McEvoy shoved him. "Get your fucking hands off me!"
Randall stumbled back, catching his balance on the chair. McEvoy's hat tumbled to the floor. Tobacco juice dribbled down his chin.
"You're just aching to spend the night in my jail, aren't you, city boy?" He wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a dark green smear.
"If you were going to arrest me, you would have done it by now," Randall said, praying his instincts were right.
Addison stepped between the two men. "We just want to see the report, Sheriff. Please. It's important. Agnes Beckett was my mother."
McEvoy rounded the desk, his eyes raking over her threateningly. "There is no report. That never happened. I suggest you forget about it and go home."
Randall's hackles rose. Stepping forward, he eased Addison aside, keeping himself squarely between her and the sheriff. "We have the resources to force you."
Taking his time, the sheriff adjusted his belly over his belt. "You can send a whole army of big-city lawyers, but they sure as hell ain't gonna find no police report from 1974."
"Why not?" Addison asked.
McEvoy's eyes glinted, as if he were a rodent who'd succeeded in stealing the cheese without getting crushed. "The records building burned to the ground in 1975. Everything inside, including one of the deputies, went with it."
Randall was aware of Addison sinking into the chair next to him. He struggled against the urge to comfort her. Instead, he watched McEvoy, hating the type, knowing he'd met too many men like him in his lifetime. "You can bet we'll check it out."
"Not here, you won't." The sheriff picked up his hat, swung anger-bright eyes to Randall. ''Take your big-city attitude and get the hell out of my town before I arrest you both just for the fun of it."
*
"That son of a bitch knows something.” Randall started the engine and swung the rental car onto the street. "He would have arrested me if he didn't."
Even in profile, Addison could see the anger etched into his features, the tight clench of his jaw, the low, ominous brows. "I'm glad I didn't have to bail you out of jail, Talbot."
He shot her a dark look. "That fire is a little too convenient."