All the Sinners Bleed

“A lie can be halfway around the world while the truth is still pulling up his britches,” Helen Crown was fond of saying. Another piece of wisdom from his mother that time had borne out to be terribly true.

“That’s not true, Kathy. So let’s not spread that rumor, okay? Rumors can take on a life of their own,” Titus said gently. Kathy’s face softened, and Titus hoped she picked up both his obvious and subtextual points. He didn’t want her spreading rumors about the case just like she probably didn’t want people spreading rumors about her and Brent.

Titus went into his office and booted up his computer. He checked his email and saw Carla, Steve, and Trey had filed reports about their visits to the fish house and the churches, respectively. Before he read the reports, he did an online search for Latrell’s name. Almost immediately a dozen or so articles popped up on his screen. Many of them had snippets of the cell phone videos depicting the moments before the shooting. The comments were almost evenly split between folks supporting his deputies with rhetoric he found abhorrent and folks labeling him and his department as racists and murderers. Other articles mentioned his press conference. He’d named Latrell and Spearman as perpetrators along with a third unidentified perpetrator in the murders of the children under the weeping willow tree. The fact they had videotapes that confirmed Latrell’s status as an accessory to multiple murders didn’t seem to dampen the fury some people felt toward his department.

Titus understood that sentiment. Too many Black men and women had been executed by folks with badges for doing demonstrably less than what Latrell had done. The fact that Latrell had been holding a gun and had killed someone did nothing to negate that tragic fact.

Titus always told himself he was changing things by working the system from the inside. Had promised himself as sheriff he would make sure his department was different. But Latrell had shown him the lie that lived in that promise. What if you couldn’t change the system because it was working as intended? And if that was true, then why the hell was he wearing this badge?

The system worked just fine for you, though, didn’t it? the voice of Red DeCrain whispered.

Titus shook his head and opened his emails.

He read the reports from Carla and Trey and Steve. In addition to talking to people at the seafood plant, Carla and Steve had gone by their respective assigned churches, as had Trey. Titus didn’t consider himself an investigatory genius, but even he could see the visits to the churches hadn’t turned up much. Carla and Steve’s visit to the fish house, however, had borne a few small pieces of fruit. Apparently Latrell had been working at the fish house up until two weeks ago. That in itself wasn’t unusual; most citizens of Charon walked through those heavy metal doors of Cunningham Seafood at one time or another. What stood out to Titus was that Latrell was good friends with Darnell Posey, another casual drug user. Carla had also noted that there were several employees Latrell seemed to avoid. These included Eddie Franklin, shift supervisor (understandable, especially if Latrell was coming to work high), and Carolyn Chambers, one of the crab pickers and the mother of Latrell’s ex, Candy Chambers. He also apparently went out of his way to avoid Dayane Carter. Dayane was a trailer-park-pretty young woman who had gotten into her share of fights down at the Watering Hole and the Celtic Tavern. Titus had picked her up a few times for being drunk in public. According to Carla’s notes, Latrell avoided her like the plague. Apparently he didn’t avoid or engage with Cole Marshall.

Titus didn’t know if that meant anything, but he made a note of it.

As he scrolled through the rest of the day’s reports, his cell phone rang.

It was Darlene.

“Hey, what’s up?” Titus said.

“I wanna see you tonight. Can you make that happen?” Darlene asked.

“Yeah, sure, you okay?” Titus said.

“No. Titus, I heard about Cole Marshall. I’m scared. Aren’t you scared?” Darlene asked.

“Aw, D, don’t worry, okay? Look, I’m leaving here in a few minutes. I’ll meet you at the house by seven.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Kids buried in the woods, now Cole is dead. You aren’t afraid? I’m scared to death. I closed up the shop early today. I’ve been sitting at the house with Mama and Daddy, trying not to think about it,” Darlene said, and Titus could tell she was on the verge of tears. She was the second woman today who was about to cry to him at her most vulnerable moment, and there was nothing in his power he could do to comfort either one of them. Plaudits and pledges wouldn’t slake Darlene’s fear.

Titus closed his eyes tight. What good was the star on his chest, the title in front of his name, if he couldn’t keep the people he cared about from losing hope? All the power and supposed glory that came with being a peacekeeper turned to dust when the woman who shared your bed confessed that she was terrified of the place where she’d been born.

“I’m not afraid. I’m concerned, but I’m not afraid. I know we are going to catch him. I trust my folks almost as much as I trust myself,” Titus said. That last part had slipped out, but as his father liked to say, tell the truth and shame the devil. He trusted himself more than he trusted anyone. That included God in heaven, the state police, and even the members of his own department. Titus had learned through trial and error and circumstances beyond his control that when the long black veil came down, he could only really depend on himself.

It made for a long, lonely life.

“Do you want me to bring some food over?” Darlene asked.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you in a few, okay?” Titus said.

“Okay. Love you,” Darlene said.

“You too,” Titus said.

He put his phone down on the desk. A question crept into his mind, and he didn’t have a good answer. When had he started saying, “You too”?

He was sure Darlene would know the answer.



* * *



Titus sat on the couch while Darlene cleared the table. He poured some Jameson into two whiskey glasses with one ice cube each and set them on the coffee table. His father was at a Friday night church meeting.

“Your father still leaves you notes? Why didn’t he just text you?” Darlene had asked when she had noticed Albert’s chicken-scratch handwriting on the mini-chalkboard next to the refrigerator.

“Albert Crown is nothing if not old school. He still darns his socks,” Titus had said.

“What’s darning your socks?” Darlene had asked.

Titus handed her one of the glasses as she slid next to him on the couch. She laid her left leg over his right one and grabbed the television remote.

“Whew, this is strong,” Darlene said after taking a sip from the glass.

“If you can’t handle this, I guess I better not break out the ’shine,” Titus said.

Darlene poked him playfully as she changed channels.

“One time me and Marquis got into Pop’s ’shine. When he found out, he made us drink it with him. A whole quart. I don’t think I touched alcohol again until I went to college,” Titus said.

“How is Marquis? I heard he got into a fight at the Watering Hole last night,” Darlene said.

“He’s okay. You know Marquis. Never takes anything too seriously,” Titus said. He sipped his own drink. The Jameson burned as it went down until it found a warm spot in his belly. That warmth started to radiate throughout his whole body. He didn’t have any intention of becoming the clichéd hard-drinking cop, but after the last few days a cold beer wasn’t enough to start the decompression process.

“My daddy got some shells for his shotgun today. He said there were a lot of people at Bobby Joe’s place,” Darlene said.

“What?”

“I said Daddy got some shells for his shotgun today down at Bobby Joe’s place.”

Titus took another sip. Bobby Joe Andrews ran the local gun-and-ammo store. Titus put the glass to his forehead. Charon County had more guns than it had residents because most residents had more guns than they needed. The last thing he needed was a bunch of trigger-happy wannabe Doc Hollidays stockpiling ammunition and chomping at the bit to play good guy with a gun.

“I guess a lot of people are scared. Not just people that voted against me,” Titus said.

S. A. Cosby's books