Page 23 of Wild Card
“Where there’s beer…” she said.
“Pretty much.”
We drove past the Forrester auto shop and junkyard, and the landscape shifted from city to country in a heartbeat. Cornfields stretched on either side of us, broken up periodically by old farmhouses and one sad, rusted-out trailer park. The Prince farm came up on our left, mostly an event venue these days, but they hired security, so we didn’t go out there much.
When we arrived at Sam’s place on the edge of Granville city limits, the old man was nowhere to be seen. Chloe got out of the car ahead of me.
“Hey!” I said sharply as she started toward the fence lining his field without so much as glancing around.
She froze, turning to look at me. “What?”
“Don’t just go charging into the unknown. I take the lead.”
She glanced at the empty field. “But no one’s here, and even if Sam Murphy saw me, he’s not likely to attack.”
“Presumptions like that can get you killed,” I said. “Behind me. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered, striding back toward me.
I could tell by her gait that she was angry, but I wasn’t taking any chances with a young deputy. I swept the area with my gaze, searching for any signs of activity, then pointed toward the figure standing next to an old barn.
“Sam’s out there. You may not have seen him, but he sure saw you. Always take note of your surroundings before proceeding. Don’t assume no one’s there. Be sure of it.”
“All right,” she said. “Sorry, sir.”
“Working a rural area is different from city patrol,” I told her while we waited for Sam to cross the field. “There’s wide-open spaces. In some ways, it seems safer. Properties are spread out. Population is thinner. But that means it’s much easier to let your guard down and miss something. We can’t afford to be complacent. Sometimes we stumble on illicit activity because perps think it’ll go undetected out here.”
“Like what?”
“I broke up a dog-fighting ring about a year ago. Lots of nasty people involved. Lots of money changing hands. Had to call in the state police.”
“Jesus,” she said.
“We had a meth lab explosion that killed a firefighter out this way too,” I said. “So don’t assume it’s all missing cattle and broken-down fences, all right?”
I was laying it on a little thick, but she was a rookie who needed to use caution because she didn’t yet have the instincts years in law enforcement would give her.
Sam reached the fence. “Ah, Deputy Harvey, you’re back. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after you spent two hours on my fence.”
I grinned. “Just needed to make sure my handiwork was holding up.” I slapped the fencepost. “Any sign of the prodigal steer?”
“Oh, he turned up overnight,” Sam said. “Had to chase the fucker around. Nearly had a coronary getting him into the pasture, but he’s back where he belongs.”
“Why didn’t you call Ed for help?” Chloe asked.
“Because Ed would hold it over my head for—” He paused, eyes sharpening. “Don’t I know you, young lady?”
“Nope,” she said quickly.
“Deputy Parks is new to the department,” I told Sam as I turned, scanning our surroundings. A handful of cattle grazed a few hundred feet from the fence. An old tractor sat rusting in the sun. Everything looked quiet on the home front.
“Parks. I know that name, don’t I?”
“It’s a common name,” she said evasively, turning to me. “This fence sure looks solid, Deputy Harvey. I guess our work here is done.”
“Deputy Parks is Granville born and bred like me,” I told Sam.
“I’m sure we’ve never met, though,” Chloe said with a nervous laugh. “I never got out this way much. Is it time to move on, Deputy Harvey? Lots of ground to cover.”
