All of the Voices by Bailey Bradford (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

“Don’t even think about it,” Matt warned as the rooster shook out his wings, the usual precursor to an attack. He glanced back to find Stenley shaking his head even as he continued the compressions. The siren screamed and Matt watched the ambulance barrel around the back of the house.

The rooster crowed then dashed off in a graceless display of full blown chicken panic. Matt stayed where he was, unable to look back and see those lifeless blue eyes again. The EMTs ran up the porch steps. Matt looked away and scooted off the porch.

It was too late for Mrs. Hawkins. Matt had lost his odd and only confidant.

* * * *

“Matt.”

A big hand landed on his shoulder as his name was spoken. Any other time, Matt might have been startled. He hadn’t heard Sheriff Stenley approach behind him. No, Matt had been lost, his mind focused on the image of Mrs. Hawkins’ body laid out on the stretcher and covered with a white sheet. Nothing could scrub that sight from his memory, not now, probably not ever.

“Matt.” This time the sheriff’s voice was softer, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like compassion, and damn if it didn’t make Matt’s eyes burn fiercely. “Look at me, Matt.”

There was the snarly tone he heard so often from the sheriff. It was accompanied by a sharp tug, pulling Matt around to face his boss. Sheriff Stenley looked back at him, his gray eyes filled with a mix of anger and concern. Deep lines were etched into the man’s handsome face, bracketing his lips and framing his eyes. Matt wondered if he was as pale as the sheriff was, if his own lips were flattened into a thin line as if to keep the grief inside.

Stenley pinned him in place with a look and two strong hands clamped to Matt’s shoulders. Matt waited for a reprimand—maybe the sheriff thought he hadn’t driven fast enough, had been too lax with the calls, believed this one was no different from the others Mrs. Hawkins made. Not even the sheriff knew of the relationship Matt and Mrs. Hawkins had formed, two lonely souls who just wanted someone to listen without judging.

But Stenley didn’t tear into him. A barely perceptible shift in the man’s expression somehow softened his whole appearance, and the sheriff merely looked tired and worried. The anger, at least any directed at Matt, vanished with a quiet sigh.

“We need to go back to the station and get started on this. I want the reports done and then you and I need to see if we can find out if Mrs. Hawkins had any next of kin. I can’t remember her having any visitors in the few years I’ve lived here, but that don’t mean she didn’t. Do you know if she had anyone?”

It was a logical question since Matt had lived in McKinton all his life, even commuting two and a half hours a day to college when he’d gone for his degree. Yeah, Mrs. Hawkins had a relative. One nephew, some shit-hot lawyer in New York who never visited even if he did call a couple of times a week. Obviously the guy couldn’t take the time to actually come to McKinton, at least not while Mrs. Hawkins had been…

Matt shook the thought from his head. “There’s a nephew, up in New York. His number’s probably on the caller ID.”

Ignoring Stenley’s arched eyebrow and inquisitive expression, Matt looked back over the yard. “Someone needs to take care of these critters until…until that nephew decides what he wants done with them. Is it okay with you if I see to them first before coming back to the office?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the sheriff muttered his agreement. Matt figured Stenley would be asking him soon enough how he knew about the nephew’s number on the caller ID. Carlin, the guy’s name is Carlin. Mrs. Hawkins had offered to pull out a photo album once and show Matt pictures of her nephew, but Matt had politely declined, having already visited with Mrs. Hawkins too long.

Carlin probably wouldn’t even come to McKinton. He’d just have some other fancy attorney handle everything. That was okay, though. The people of McKinton would hold a service for Mrs. Hawkins, and it’d be a big one. For all her eccentric ways, she’d been a native of the town and that meant a lot to the people here. Obviously not enough for any of them to take the time to visit with Mrs. Hawkins, but that was their loss. She’d been a pretty amazing person and Matt felt blessed for having known her.

* * * *

By the time Matt finished taking care of the chickens, Sheriff Stenley had gone. Matt was glad for that as he wouldn’t have liked the man to hang around and witness Matt’s humiliation at the claws and beak of one pissed off rooster. The battle with the beast distracted Matt from his grief. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than swatting the chicken away without strangling the critter. Matt had several scratches on his forearms as thanks for his restraint.

Now he was done with the task and his heart ached for his loss. He shoved down his anger at the thought of this Carlin guy handling Mrs. Hawkins’ affairs and skirted around the front of his cruiser and over to the driver’s side door.

He stood and looked at the house where he’d spent time talking with Mrs. Hawkins. It wasn’t until his vision blurred that Matt realized tears were welling in his eyes and running down his cheeks. She’d deserved someone to care about her, someone other than him, and someone better than a nephew who was too busy to visit her.

Apparently his anger wasn’t quite as buried as he’d thought. Matt got in the vehicle and slammed the door before shoving the keys in