Page 41 of Rules

"So, you're saying you can't handle this situation. I think it's time for Sheriff Trenton to step down and let someone else crack this case."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. For a moment, I'm at a loss. Then, from the center of the room, a familiar voice speaks up.

"That's not fair." Ruth stands, her cheeks flushed. "He never said that. The sheriff and his deputies are working around the clock. These criminals are deliberately targeting our business community. We should be rallying, supporting law enforcement, not attacking them. Besides Paul.” She jammed her finger towards him. “We all know what your agenda is. Your brother's run for Sheriff the last four elections, of course he's lost all four times." Several in the crowd clap. Councilman Reeves looks in shock, like he's not sure what to say.

Her defense catches me off guard. After the coldness of her earlier look, I expected anything but support. Damn, an angry Ruth is a beautiful Ruth.

"Ms. Manchester," Mayor Wilson acknowledges her. "While we appreciate your confidence, the fact remains that a young woman is dead, and four business owners have been hospitalized. The question stands: what is being done to prevent the next attack?"

All eyes return to me. I take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts.

"We've implemented a town-wide security protocol. Deputies will be conducting additional patrols in business districts. We'vealso established a direct emergency line for faster response." I pause, making eye contact with concerned faces. "And I've reached out to a specialist who successfully tracked similar criminals previously. They'll be coming to assist."

This last part—bringing in Law and his team officially—wasn't planned, but the words come out before I can reconsider. We need help, and Law's team, despite their unorthodox methods, are the best.

"Who is this specialist?" Councilwoman Davis asks.

"A private security consultant with unprecedented expertise in organized criminal enterprises." Not exactly a lie, but not the whole truth about Law. "Our teams worked together to bring down the trafficking ring." Everyone went quiet after my statement. "Let's not forget about that."

The remainder of the meeting is a blur of questions, accusations, and frightened speculation. By the time it ends two hours later, my head is pounding and my patience threadbare.

As the crowd disperses, I notice Ruth lingering near the exit. Our eyes meet again, and this time she doesn't look away. I make my way toward her, weaving through departing residents.

"Thank you," I say when I reach her. "For speaking up."

"I didn't do it for you." Her voice is cool, professional. "I did it because it's true. You're doing everything you can."

"Ruth, I—"

"Don't." She holds up a hand. "I understand your priorities are elsewhere right now. Mine are too. I'm trying to find a security system that actually works, since apparently the pharmacies didn't help them much."

The distance in her tone hurts more than I expected. I deserve it, of course, after what happened at her shop, but that doesn't lessen the sting.

"I can have Brooklyn stop by, make some recommendations." I maintain my professional facade despite wanting to apologize, to explain.

"Fine." She adjusts her purse strap. "Send whoever you want."

She turns to leave, but I catch her arm. "Roo," for a brief moment, her expression softens. Then the walls come back up and she pulls her arm away.

"Please, be careful, these people... they're dangerous."

"I'm careful, Sheriff." She pulls away. "I've been advised, twice."

The double meaning isn't lost on me as I watch her walk away, her copper hair swinging with each determined step. Once again, I've managed to make things worse.

Outside, the late afternoon sun offers no warmth. I climb into my pickup, turn the key, and sit in silence, the weight of the day settling over me like a shroud. Four businesses attacked. One young woman dead. An entire town living in fear. And the one person who's made me feel anything beyond duty and responsibility can barely look at me.

I slam my palm against the steering wheel, a rare display of the frustration bubbling beneath my carefully maintained control. Something has to give, and soon, before these criminals strike again.

As I pull away from the town hall, my radio crackles to life.

"Charlie Charlie dispatch to Charlie Charlie one Alpha."

"Go ahead, dispatch."

"Are you clear of the meeting, one Alpha?"

"Ten-four."

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