Granite County

By Gary Watson

The small north Georgia community of Granite County is devastated when star high school quarterback Adam Carson's body is found in the Anatoola River. The parents, Franklin and Ginger Carson, reluctantly accept Sheriff Henry Kendrick's determination that the death was an accident, but they have questions. How did Adam get to the river, and w

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Oct 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958678626

Gary Watson

Gary Watson is the author of four mystery/suspense novels. He has been writing since fifth grade, including twenty-fi ve years as a small-town newspaper editor/reporter.Since retiring from the real world in 2020, Watson has stayed busy writing, hunting down antique shops with his wife Suzanne, talking sports with two grown daughters and trying to keep up with three grandchildren, ages 11, 10 and 6.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Acknowledgments

Suzanne Watson

Gary Watts

Wes Tallon

Liz Marino

Millie Cook

The Team at Book Vine Press

Garywatsonbooks.com

Chapter 1

"A RE you all right, Henderson? You don’t look so good."

Yes sir. I am better now than a few minutes ago. My breakfast came up. It may be a long time before I eat scrambled eggs again.

I didn’t realize you were so squeamish.

Neither did I, but I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I hope I never see anything like it again.

You will, provided you stay in this business.

Do you ever get used to it?

No, but you learn to tolerate it better. Who discovered the body?

They did, the tall, skinny deputy replied to his sheriff as he pointed at two old men leaning uncomfortably against a large rock outcrop twenty yards away. They’ve been out here fishing all morning. They got here about 7 a.m. They started about fifty yards down that way, the deputy said as he pointed southward. Nothing was biting so they slowly moved up this way looking for a honey hole. The short, fat guy got his line caught in that clump of bushes along the bank and when he went to untangle it, he saw the body. It was caught up in bushes at the water line.

Is it the boy? Sheriff Henry Kendrick asked as he turned toward the clump of brush Deputy Mark Henderson had pointed out. Henderson was about six-foot-three, maybe six-four, with long arms, no butt and not much of a waist. As the old saying went, he was so skinny that if he stood under a clothesline in the rain, he wouldn’t get wet.

Yes sir. I’m sure. The clothes match the description of what the boy was wearing. But a positive ID may be difficult. The body’s been in the water for a few days, and this river is full of turtles. They’ve had a feast. Henderson felt acid rising in his throat again and he briefly turned his back to the sheriff. This time he was able to fight off regurgitating.

Unphased, Kendrick walked toward the riverbank where members of the Granite County Search and Rescue/Recovery Unit were meticulously and respectfully removing the body from the tangle of undergrowth. The remains were in such fragile condition that team members placed it carefully in a body bag rather than under a white sheet on a gurney. Before they zipped the bag, Kendrick studied what was left of the boy’s face. Unlike Henderson, the sheriff felt no wave of nausea. He had seen worse many times during his career. Through the damage done by the turtles, Kendrick could see a significant indentation in the boy’s right temple. Thanks gentlemen. Good job, Kendrick said appreciatively. We’ll let the coroner know you’re coming.

The four S&R members acknowledged Kendrick’s compliment and continued their job of loading the body into an ambulance and heading to the morgue which was two miles away in a small brick building adjacent to the county jail. The campus of jail, morgue/coroner’s office and sheriff’s administrative headquarters had been built with special tax funds approved by county citizens in a referendum seven years earlier and was not so affectionally called Kendrick’s Compound by some members of the community.

Kendrick watched the county-operated ambulance slowly pull away and walked to the two anglers. Both had to be in their mid-seventies. They had several days of facial stubble and were wearing battered black baseball caps with no team logo, plaid shirts, faded blue jeans and hiking boots. They looked the part of two friends who had spent many hours on the banks of the Anatoola River. Well, gentlemen, you’ve had quite a morning, he said.

That’s for damn sure, the short, fat man said. He lifted his ball cap and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He was close to completely bald. Ain’t never seen a dead person before except in a casket at the funeral home. Almost made me puke up the Vienna sausages I ate right after we got here.

Kendrick did not share the information that his deputy had lost his breakfast. Instead, What about you? he asked the other man who was close to six feet tall and well-proportioned with graying brown hair curling around the edges of his cap. He was the complete opposite of his friend.

I spent two years in 'Nam. Saw a lot worse than this. My best friend who was standing right beside me got blown to bits by a grenade. My left leg is full of shrapnel, so it’s by God’s grace that I’m here today. While I am truly sorry for this boy and his family, this ain’t going to cause me to lose any sleep. I had nightmares for a lot of years, but I’m past that now.

What was your unit in 'Nam? Kendrick asked with sincere interest.

1st Infantry, the Big Red One. 1st Battalion, 2nd Infantry Regiment, the tall man said proudly.

The Black Scarves? Kendrick asked.

The man’s face beamed with Kendrick’s question. How did you know that? he asked Kendrick.

I am a bit of a history buff, military history especially, and the Vietnam War in particular.

Practically standing at attention, the man started, We conducted a sweep through the village of Lo Go. The fighting was crazy, but we managed to capture a large quantity of black cloth the Viet Cong used to make those crappy uniforms that looked like pajamas. Our battalion commander, LTC Prillaman, ordered that the cloth be made into scarves. We wore those things with pride, and by God, I still have mine. I’ll be buried with that around my neck.

Kendrick saluted the man. Thank you for your service. That was a war we should have never been in.

Yes sir. I agree. But I promise you, the men who were there fought like hell. Damn good soldiers. What about you Sheriff? You a veteran?

Yes sir. Task Force 1-41 Infantry in the Gulf War. The first coalition force to breach the Saudi border and conduct ground operations in Iraq.

Good job, soldier, the Black Scarf said to Kendrick with a crisp salute.

Kendrick acknowledged the gesture and turned to the other fisherman. What about you? Kendrick asked.

He responded, looking uncomfortable as if he was embarrassed to answer the question. I had a low lottery number for the draft. Got called in for my pre-induction physical and got turned down because of flat feet. I would have gone if I could.

Kendrick nodded and turned the conversation back to the job at hand. We appreciate you gentlemen calling us. This is going to give some closure to a family that has been out of their mind with worry. Thank you.

The veteran acknowledged Kendrick with a nod. It’s the Carson boy, ain’t it? he asked.

We believe so but don’t go home sharing this information with anyone. We need to make a positive ID. In this town, word will get out fast enough as is. You catch anything this morning?

We caught something, but it wasn’t what we were expecting, the short, fat man said as he glanced over to the clump of bushes.

I think our fishing is over for the day, the veteran said. He removed his cap and his curling brown hair sprung in every direction.

Thank you again. I’m going to leave Deputy Henderson here to take your statements. I believe that’s all we will need but would you have a problem coming to the office if we need to ask you some more questions?

No sir, the veteran said.

Kendrick shook their hands and walked to his car. He hadn’t bothered to get their names. It didn’t matter. He was thinking about the task ahead of him.

Chapter 2

HENRY Kendrick was fifty-eight years old and had spent twenty-eight of those years in law enforcement, all in Granite County, a small community in the North Georgia mountains. Raised by a single mother whose health was failing, he had been forced to drop out of college after two years to help care for her. After his mother’s death, and with no desire to return to school, no plans for his future, and no clue about an occupation, he joined the Army which he served with distinction. The discipline of military life and the adrenaline rush of combat appealed to him, but following two tours of duty, he chose to enter law enforcement which he considered an exciting yet less dangerous option to being a soldier. As much as he flourished in combat, the idea of getting away from IEDs and mortars was appealing.

He was hired as a dispatcher for the Granite County Sheriff’s Office and two years later was promoted to patrol. Three years later he became a detective and five years after that, he ran for sheriff and was elected. Every four years afterwards he had been re-elected, usually unopposed or with piddling opponents who didn’t stand a chance. He continued winning because he had kept serious crime out of the community. He was a native son whom everyone knew. He also played the you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours game, cashed in dozens of favors and looked the other way for certain people and events. County residents who had benefitted from his bartering appreciated him; those who had not despised him. Kendrick was a contradiction. The military is straightforward and by the book with no exceptions. For Kendrick, if it was to his advantage, he threw the book away.

In those almost thirty years, there had not been much he had not seen. Murders, suicides, murder/suicides, auto accidents, explosions, bombings, airplane crashes, fires, drownings, bodies in far worse shape than that of Adam Carson. He had plenty of experience but bringing sad news to a family was just as difficult now as it was two decades earlier during his first year as sheriff. He was parked in the driveway of the Carson family home awaiting the arrival of Franklin Carson, President of the Granite Mountain Bank who had been summoned from work. He and his wife had been asked to meet with the sheriff at their home. They weren’t told the reason for the meeting, but they knew.

Franklin Carson arrived in his black Range Rover and parked in the driveway rather than pulling into one of the three bays in the garage. Kendrick stepped out of his white Expedition with blue Granite County Sheriff markings. Sheriff, do you have news for us? Carson asked in a solemn tone of resignation.

Let’s go inside, Kendrick requested.

As they were walking to the front door of the house, Kendrick asked Carson, Don’t you have another son?

Yes. Tommy. He’s four years older than Adam. They are close.

Will he be meeting with us today?

No. He is in Florida assisting a friend with a sports camp.

Shouldn’t he want to be here, comforting his parents and looking for his brother?

Carson stopped and gave Kendrick an unfriendly look. Sheriff, I know this is the oldest cliché in the world, but Adam would have wanted Tommy to stay at the camp. One of the foundations on which this family is built is honoring your obligations. Tommy had an obligation to the camp, and Adam would have wanted him to keep it.

I see, Kendrick said. He dropped the subject and they continued to the house.

Franklin Carson had enjoyed success as a banker, and their lifestyle reflected that success. Their two-story colonial-style house, valued at $400,000, was in Granite County’s most elite neighborhood that included successful local businessmen, professionals such as lawyers and doctors, and corporate-types who commuted to high-paying jobs and opulent offices in Atlanta or Asheville or other larger cities even farther away. Hoping his neighbors weren’t paying attention to the sheriff’s vehicle parked in his driveway, Carson escorted Kendrick inside where they were immediately met by Ginger Carson. She had the same hopeless look as her husband. No one said anything as they sat down in a spacious open living area that was highlighted by an impressive stone fireplace. Fall was just arriving in the mountains and the fireplace had not been used yet.

Above the fireplace mantel was a large family portrait. Mr. and Mrs. Carson were average-looking people. Tommy and Adam were not. Handsome, sandy blond hair, blue eyes and athletic bodies. Tommy had an impish grin of someone constantly on the edge of trouble. Adam’s look was stoic, like someone who carefully measures every step he takes.

There can only be one reason for your visit, Sheriff, Carson said, clutching his wife’s hand.

Kendrick was silent for a moment as he viewed the couple’s sad eyes. How do you deal with the loss of a child, even if that child is an 18-year-old man-child? He sighed deeply and said, We found a body in the river.

Oh my God! Ginger screamed as she burst into tears. Franklin hugged her tightly. He tried to stay composed as he asked Kendrick, "Is it…?

We are relatively certain…but we will need someone to come identify the body.

Ginger fell off the sofa, and on her knees on the carpeted floor, cried hysterically. Kendrick sat silently with a lump in his throat as he watched Franklin attempt to console his wife. Ginger was crying so violently that she was having to take deep breaths to send air into her lungs. Franklin could not find words. All he knew to do was tenderly place his hands on his wife’s shoulders. Kendrick continued to sit silently, feeling like a complete failure not being able to say something, do something, to aid this grieving couple. He was able to hand Ginger a tissue from a box on an end table.

Minutes passed and finally, Ginger’s voluminous crying turned into intermittent sobs. Somehow, Franklin had managed not to cry although he had continuously been forced to wipe tears from his eyes. Kendrick had never been in the house before, but he found the kitchen and brought back glasses of water for the couple. Ginger, both hands shaking, held the glass and took two small sips. Franklin nodded appreciation to Kendrick but put his glass on an end table without drinking.

Still taking deep breaths, Ginger returned to the sofa next to her husband. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she twisted a tissue with her fingers. Franklin wrapped his arms around her. What happened? she finally managed to ask.

Kendrick leaned forward and rested his forearms on his upper legs. We found a body in the river. A couple of fishermen stumbled across it. He didn’t mention the awful condition of the body.

But what happened? How did he get in the river? Franklin asked.

He had a rather nasty dent in the side of his head. That portion of the riverbank is full of rocks. My guess is, and at this point it is just a guess, is he slipped, hit his head and fell into the river. I don’t know if the blow killed him instantly or if he was knocked unconscious and drowned.

Ginger couldn’t sit still so she stood up and started pacing. She turned to Kendrick and asked, How did he get to the river? Why was he at the river? We’ve never known him to go there.

She’s right, Franklin interjected.

I don’t know. We are hoping you two can help fill in those blanks.

Later, Franklin said firmly but politely. Right now, we want to go see our son.

Chapter 3

KENDRICK offered to drive the Carsons to the morgue and they immediately accepted. Before leaving their house, the couple spent fifteen minutes regaining their composure. Ginger bypassed refreshing her makeup because her constant tears would wash it away. They did place a call to Tommy. The conversation was brief and to the point. They found Adam. He is gone. Tommy, please come home. Franklin didn’t provide additional details, and stunned, the older brother did not press his father for more. Tommy asked how his mother was holding up and promised he would begin the twelve-hour drive home as quickly as he could wrap up camp-related details.

The devastated parents slid into the sheriff’s Expedition and as Kendrick steered out of the driveway, Franklin said softly, We need to let Coach Hannigan know.

You’re right, Ginger replied between sniffles.

Sheriff, can you contact Coach Hannigan? Ask him to meet us at the morgue?

Are you certain about this? Kendrick asked.

Yes. He has been a big part of Adam’s life. He should be there with us.

Kendrick radioed Deputy Henderson, directing him to drop what he was doing and proceed to Granite County High School, locate Coach Hannigan and transport him to the morgue. The sheriff and the Carsons were in the small waiting room of the coroner’s suite when Deputy Henderson arrived with the coach.

Please tell me there’s another reason for why I’m here, Hannigan said. He was a tall, muscled man. Fifteen years earlier, he had been known as a tough as nails tight end for the University of Tennessee. He had been the head coach of the Granite County Giants for six years.

With his voice cracking, Franklin managed to say, The Sheriff’s men pulled a body from the river. We’re here to see if it’s Adam.

Oh my God! Hannigan said loudly.

We know how much you meant to Adam. We wanted you to be here, Ginger said with little volume.

Is everyone ready for this? Kendrick asked.

No, but it’s something we have to do. Let’s go, Sheriff, Franklin said.

Kendrick led the three to the morgue section of the coroner’s office and they gathered around a black body bag positioned on a metal table.

Ready? Kendrick asked.

Franklin nodded. The fingers in his right hand cracked as Ginger wrapped her hand around them.

Kendrick slowly unzipped the bag revealing the tattered face. Ginger fainted on the spot, but Hannigan caught her as she dropped. Franklin, fighting off the urge to vomit, stood frozen as the realization struck him that his son was dead. Previously, while Adam was only missing, there was hope he could be found alive and well. There was no hope now. No more Friday night football, no more Division I scholarship offers, no more NFL dreams or plans to become a sports agent. All of that had ended in the cold, murky water of the Anatoola River.

Hannigan carried Ginger to a chair in a conference room on the other side of the coroner’s office. A technician offered smelling salts which revived Ginger. Hannigan asked if she wanted to go back to the morgue and through sobs, she replied no. One quick look of the disfigured face was enough. Hannigan sat next to her, offered her a tissue from a box provided by the technician, and took her right hand. Hannigan himself was in a daze. This big man who once had played the entire second half of the Orange Bowl with a broken forearm felt like mush.

In the morgue, Franklin continued to look at the body. It was as if his eyes were locked into place and couldn’t be budged. Kendrick stood a few feet away, not bothering Franklin as he spent a final minute with his son. Finally, Kendrick zipped up the bag, took Franklin softly by the arm and said, Come on. Your wife needs you.

Kendrick led Franklin to the conference room where Ginger was sitting at a long rectangular table sipping on a Diet Coke. Hannigan was next to her, his eyes glistening with tears. His knees about to buckle, Franklin sat down on the other side of his wife. Kendrick sat silently at the far end of the table. After allowing everyone to process what they had seen, Kendrick asked the question even though he already knew the answer. Are you sure it’s Adam?

Yes, Franklin and Ginger said simultaneously. She mindlessly tossed a drenched tissue to the floor and grabbed another from a box Hannigan had placed on the table.

Mr. and Mrs. Carson - and Coach, Kendrick started. I am so sorry for your loss. I know how this community responds when someone is hurting, and I know you are going to have the support of hundreds of people as you deal with this.

Ginger managed a weak smile as she feebly replied, Thank you, before she started sobbing. Franklin acknowledged Kendrick with a nod.

Kendrick continued. I do need to tell you that the body is going to the State Crime Lab in DeKalb County.

Why? Ginger quickly asked as she wiped a tear off her cheek.

It’s routine, Hannigan spoke before Kendrick could. To determine the cause of death. To run toxicology. To see if there are any drugs or other substances in the body.

That’s ridiculous, Ginger responded indignantly. Coach, you of all people know Adam didn’t do drugs.

Hannigan looked to Kendrick for help. Kendrick offered, Coach is right. All of us know Adam didn’t do drugs, but there are other things we must rule out. What if Adam had a heart attack and that caused him to fall and hit his head? Or an aneurysm? Or a seizure? That’s the type of information we’ll get from the Crime Lab.

I had not thought of that. All right, Ginger conceded.

Adam had his wallet and cellphone tucked in his jeans. We’ll return those items to you. But remember, they have been in the water for several days.

This news brought another cascade of tears from Ginger.

Kendrick paused for a moment to allow Ginger to regain her composure, then he said, I’m going to leave the three of you alone. Take all the time you need. I’m leaving Deputy Henderson here. He will arrange transportation for all of you when you are ready. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, we will need to talk some more, but no rush. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. Adam was a good kid.

Through tears, they thanked Kendrick. As he was walking out of the building, he crossed paths with Detective Kennedy Fleming. What’s going on Detective? he asked.

I’m here about the shooting victim from last night. The coroner wants to ask me a few questions, she explained to her boss.

A drug deal gone bad?

Looks like it. I’m still investigating.

Good. Stay on it.

As Kendrick and Fleming were going about their business, the Carsons and Coach Hannigan had used up their supply of tears. When he rose to go in search of Deputy Henderson, Hannigan said, I want both of you to know that Adam is the finest young man I have ever coached. An All-American in every sense of the word."

Franklin and Ginger held each other’s hand tightly and smiled. Franklin said, And Adam could not have had a better coach than you.

Hannigan managed a weak smile and said, I have to get back to the school and talk to the team. Word in this town travels fast, and I want them to hear about Adam from me. I’m going to let them vote on whether or not to play Friday night.

No, don’t do that, Franklin responded firmly. Adam would want them to play. They have an obligation to honor.

Chapter 4

KRIS Keller’s late afternoon nap in the quaint community of Shrimpers Bay halfway down Florida’s Gulf Coast, was ended by a crying baby. Kris remained stretched out on the sofa while the cobwebs evaporated from his brain. Still slightly groggy, he stumbled as he rose from the sofa, gained his balance and walked across the den floor and picked up Patrick Carter Keller from the playpen.

What’s going on, Little Man? Kris asked his six-month-old son. How was your nap? Did you have good dreams? Perhaps about hitting the winning shot in the Final Four? Or, since you were crying, maybe you missed the shot? Whatever, you’re still a winner.

Gently bouncing the still crying baby in his arms, Kris moved to the recliner where many a night he had held Carter until he fell asleep. Kris tried to snuggle the child against his chest, but the crying continued.

This should do the trick, Marilyn Parker said as she entered the den with a bottle of formula. She looked the part of a housewife and mom – short-sleeve white knit sweater, jeans, and black flats. Her cinnamon blonde hair, which was quite a contrast from the bleached platinum blonde she sported previously, was in a ponytail that fell a third of the way down her back.

Good call, Kris smiled. He took the bottle from Marilyn and offered it to Carter who quickly went to work. The crying stopped.

A thankful smile crossed Marilyn’s face as she admired father and son. She felt blessed to be part of this picture. At this moment, she was as content as she had ever been in her twenty-eight years.

Did you get any writing done this afternoon? she asked Kris who was still holding the bottle but Carter was trying to take it away so he could work on his own terms.

A little, but I’ve got to get serious. My editor and the publisher want the first draft in two months.

Where are you in the story?

Where Billy Manley tells me my father may not have taken his own life.

I see. Yep. There is still a lot of the story remaining. But you’ll get there. You always do.

Thanks. All of this is very difficult to write. It’s like reliving the entire awful series of events in Fort Phillips. Will I ever be able to let that place go? Carter was settling down. He still had about a quarter of the bottle to finish.

It has only been, what, 18 months or so since all of this started? I believe that once you finish this book and deal with all the tours and public appearances, Fort Phillips will gradually become just an occasional memory. And when you start on the other two books called for in your contract, well, hopefully you will forget Fort Phillips forever.

I’m counting on it. Carter had finished his bottle and with a soft pat on his back from Kris, elicited a loud burp.

I would give that a 10, Marilyn giggled.

Absolutely, Kris concurred. Carter laid his head on Kris’ chest and was asleep again. He sleeps a lot, Kris said.

Well, he better sleep a lot now, because when he gets grown, there won’t be much time for it. Marilyn was silent as she studied the father and child. He looks more like you every day, she told Kris.

Maybe he’ll grow out of it, Kris kidded.

Have you sent Emmy any recent photos?

No, I haven’t. She doesn’t want them. She promised to stay out of my life and Carter’s.

But it’s her child. Surely she wants to know about her child.

Emmy could be in prison for life. She told me that keeping up with Carter would make the time unbearable. In a way, I understand. In prison, your primary focus should be on staying alive. There are some mean women who would love to get their hands on the lovely young blonde woman’s tender flesh.

Kris’ description made Marilyn shudder. Yes. Surviving has to be Emmy’s number one goal. But relating to Carter, I see things differently than Emmy. If I was in prison and had a child on the outside, the one thing that would keep me going is getting out and seeing my son.

But that is not how she feels. She made that clear.

Marilyn sighed. Either way, I feel sorry for Emmy, she said, a touch of sadness in her blue eyes. I liked her. She and I were not best buddies when we worked together in Atlanta, but she was always nice to me, even when I was acting and dressing like a tart.

Don’t feel sorry for her. Not one bit. Emmy knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t forced to get involved with drug dealers. She wasn’t forced to order Lonnie Jackson to kill my father… Kris’ voice tailed off.

Marilyn rubbed her arms to make the goose bumps go away. She requested, Let’s talk about something else. How does spaghetti sound for supper?

Sounds good to me, but before you start cooking, can you do something for me?

Sure. What?

I believe Carter has conducted some business. Can you go into his room and get a diaper and some wipes out of his bag?

O.K. Back in a second.

Marilyn made her way to Carter’s room which already had several Fatheads of NBA players. She smiled and nodded her head as she glanced at the decals. Kris was going to have a basketball in Carter’s hands as soon as he could walk. Kris had always loved basketball and was a skilled enough player in high school to consider playing in college, but he decided his sentence structure