“He is.”
Boots thudded on the rough wood staircase, and step by step Mr. Sanders descended to face him.
Was he a brute? No way to know, but he did look nervous. Mr. Sanders was hiding something, that was for sure.
“Good evening, Mr. Sanders.” Joel held out his hand, and Sanders took it, albeit reluctantly. “Would you mind stepping outside with me for a spell?”
“What’s this about?” Mrs. Sanders stepped between them. “Is something going on that I should know about?”
Sanders’s eyes shifted away from his wife. He scratched the back of his head. Whatever he might be contemplating, his wife definitely thought him capable of carrying it out from the fearful look she was giving him. Although Joel never started an encounter with a suspect without being fully ready to defend himself, the way Sanders acted gave him extra motivation to watch his back.
“Go on inside, Della. This doesn’t concern you.”
She was going, but she wasn’t none too pleased about it. With a questioning look at her husband, she shut the door.
They moseyed into the garden, and Joel motioned Mr. Sanders onto a thick burnt stump while he took a seat on a tall-backed chair.
“You told Mrs. Sanders that what I have to speak to you about doesn’t concern her.” Joel rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands hang freely, looking deceptively relaxed. “Would you mind telling me who it does concern?”
Sanders’s face crumpled. “I’m not sure I follow. How am I supposed to know what’s on your mind?”
“How about let’s start with why you are here. People in these parts have been flummoxed about why you’ve been gone so long.”
“It’s none of their business.” His round nose grew redder in the brisk air.
“Perhaps not. How about what you came back for? Is that anyone’s business?”
Sanders snorted. “You act like I ain’t the man I’m supposed to be for staying gone so long, then you want to give me grief over coming back. Which is it, Deputy? Staying gone or coming back? Which made you afeared that I was up to no good?”
It was times like these that Joel wished he had his mother’s gift of conversation.
“Then let’s talk about your behavior since you returned. How have you and the missus being getting along?”
“She hasn’t complained, has she?”
Which was the expected response of a wife-abuser.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Then I’m not complaining, either.”
Sometimes the strongest women—those who were too proud to admit they needed help—stayed silent the longest. One woman he’d come to know in Garber had survived brutal abuse. Now Anne Tillerton Lovelace had found happiness with his best friend, Nick.
“There have been reports of contention at your abode,” Joel said. “Loud hollering, crashing furniture, ruckus-raising—does any of that sound familiar?”
Sanders’s face set in a mask of determination. He might as well have taken an invisible key, twisted it before his lips, and thrown it over his shoulder, because obviously he wasn’t going to say a blessed thing, not even a denial. He was hiding something, but was he behind the threats to Doctor Hopkins?
“Mr. Sanders, you’re not going to like what I’m fixing to tell you, but I hope you’ll be reasonable and hear me out.” Joel flexed his fingers. “As you’ve probably ascertained since arriving in Pine Gap, we have a peace-keeping problem, and your behavior might be contributing to it.”
“Me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You haven’t? Seems like someone around here has been misbehaving.”
Sanders cut his eyes to the ground. If he was guilty, at least he did seem to be troubled over it. That was something . . . but not enough. “What I propose is that you spend some time away from your wife.”
“I’ve been gone long enough, haven’t I?”
“That wouldn’t be for me to judge, but is her life better now that you’re back?”
Mr. Sanders closed his eyes.
Joel pressed on. “There’s another issue I’d like to talk over. Do you know Doctor Hopkins?”
“Newton Hopkins? Of course I know him. From what I hear, he sees my wife regularly.”
Joel drew in a long, slow breath. Was that an innocent comment, or did it hint at a motive Mr. Sanders might have against the doctor?
Betsy was right. There was more here than met the eye.
Chapter 18