Page 50 of Midnight Ride

“Thanks for your concern, boss.”

“Happy to help, Sheriff.” Gibson stood up and shook Travis’s hand.

Travis walked Gibson to the front door and as soon as he left, he went back to the office and looked up the number for the head office of the Coyote Creek Credit Union.

He made the call, got transferred twice and then spoke to the CEO. Travis said what he wanted to say and ended the call.

Travis pushed back in the chair and closed his eyes wishing he was someplace else—like at home in Texas. His reverie lasted only a moment before Molly called him to the squad room. The feds had arrived.

Two agents in dark suits. Man and woman. The man was a big guy, late forties, with slightly graying hair and a mustache.

The woman was a pretty girl with short brown hair, about thirty something.

“I’m Special Agent Ryan Chapman.” The big guy strode towards Travis with his hand out. “And this is Special Agent Charlene McBain.”

Travis shook hands with both of them. “We can talk in my office. Billy, join us.”

Inside the small office, Travis pointed to the two guest chairs, and he pointed at the swivel chair behind the desk for Billy to sit down.

“This is Undersheriff Billy Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Chapman. “We’ll need copies of your files on each of the four murders.”

“Like I told Supervisor Gibson an hour ago,” Travis perched a butt cheek on the corner of the desk, “I have one of the killers locked up and I know where the other one is. I don’t need your help.”

“It’s a little late for that, Sheriff. You have four open murders, and they obviously point to a serial killer. McBain and I have been assigned to the case and there is no way we can go back to our office without working the case.”

“Not much to work,” said Travis. “Like I said.”

“Do you have an office we can use?” asked McBain.

“Nope. This is Billy’s office, and I don’t have one of my own. Y’all will have to share desks in the squad room. That’s all we have.”

“That will have to do,” said Chapman.

Travis showed them to the one empty desk at the far side of the squad room. “This desk is vacant. One of you can use Harlan’s desk. He can share the table in the break room with me.”

“You are cramped for space, Sheriff,” said McBain. “The county must be on a tight budget.”

“We’re a small community,” mumbled Travis.

The front door of the station flew open, and a red-faced Miller Ravary rushed in with a gun in his hand. “You got me fired and you took the woman I love. I’m going to kill you, Travis Frost.”

Ravary raised the gun and aimed at Travis.

Tammy heard Ravary yelling and came running down the hall with her gun in her hand. She fired on the run.

Bang.

She hit Ravary in the knee. The gun flew out of his hand as he fell. Tammy pounced on Ravary and smacked him hard in the face. She rolled him over onto his belly and cuffed him.

“Nobody kills my Daddy in this office, you piece of shit.”

Travis smiled and said to the feds, “This is my daughter, Deputy Tammy Bristol.”

“She’s an excellent shot,” said Chapman. “Running shot with a handgun. Impressive.”

Ravary rolled on the floor screaming out curses unbefitting a bank manager and clutching his bleeding knee.

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