Page 87 of The Harborer
“You don’t like the coffee here?” Chesterton seemed genuinely surprised.
Groans and moans rose up.
“Then learn how to make a decent cup!” he barked. “O’Brien, with me.”
Shane’s ears blazed as he followed the sheriff, passing his co-workers as he went. He smiled, exchanged a few fist bumps, and mouthed thank-yous as he went, grateful Chesterton had saved him the trouble of addressing them individually. Any words he could have mustered would have caught in his throat.
Chesterton motioned for him to shut the door and take a seat. Shane did, rubbing his clammy palms along his slacks.
The sheriff leaned back in his executive chair. “State police wrapped up their scene work. Ballistics, photos, the whole nine. They’re handling the criminal investigation. My job’s on the admin side, and I can’t do a damn thing until they hand over their findings.”
Shane nodded. Not unexpected, but it didn’t make the knot in his chest ease.
“Meanwhile, you’re on administrative leave,” he confirmed. “With pay. It’s not a suspension, but you don’t wear the badge, you don’t drive a county cruiser, and you don’t so much as flash your ID until this clears.”
“Understood. Any idea how long?” Shane stopped breathing.
Chesterton steepled his fingers. “Could be a few weeks, could be longer. Depends on how fast the state boys and the DA move. You know how it goes—one file on top of a pile a mile high.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Look, I read the preliminary report. From where I sit, it looks clean. Bad guy was about to drive a knife through our councilwoman, you fired, and you stopped him. End of story. But until the suits put it in writing, this is how it has to be.”
Shane’s jaw worked. “So I just sit around while everybody in town thinks I’m off on a paid vacation?”
Chesterton pointed toward the closed door. “You think that standing ovation meansthey’retreating this as you being off on a paid vacation? I can’t speak for anyone else in this town, but those guys and gals are going to act like your personal PR team.” His eyes softened under his bushy brows. “I know this is eating at you. But better to be benched for a while than thrown back out there with this hanging over your head. You’ll get your badge back. In the meantime …” He hesitated. “Keep your head down. You can’t talk about this. No fielding questions in front of a crowd at the Miners Tavern, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Shane smiled grimly. “That’s the downside to small towns. Nothing stays quiet.”
Chesterton’s mouth quirked. “You got that right. Look, go home. Rest. When the state clears you, we’ll set you up with a psych eval—standard check-the-box stuff—and then we’ll have you back patrolling the mountain roads. Until then, you’re still one of the best damn deputies I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. Don’t forget that.”
Wow.Shane took a moment to find his bearings.
“I’m sorry, sir. I know this comes at a bad time.” When the sheriff cocked an inquiring eyebrow, Shane continued. “I mean, with the election coming up.”
“Is there agoodtime for crime, Deputy? If so, I’d like to know about it. I will say this. At least I can tell our supporters we cut off one of the tentacles of whatever this thing is, and that one of our own saved a councilwoman from a grim fate.”
A swell of pride uncoiled some of the knots inside Shane’s rib cage. “That reminds me, sir. What’s the story with the 10-50 yesterday at marker six-three?” When Chesterton didn’t respond right away, Shane added, “Stolen beige pickup?”
The sheriff scoured his desk and plucked a piece of paper from a pile. He scanned it. “Driver ID’ed as one Eugene Delacroix. Nickname ‘Duke.’ Micky Allen has confirmed he was set to meet them at the rendezvous point with more narcotics. They’d diverted him from the coffee shop because, obviously,their cover was blown after they kidnapped Councilwoman Caufield.”
“You think there’s more to this operation?”
Chesterton nodded. “You can bet your life on it. But we have a few people in custody now who might be able to help us dig into the heart of this thing. Allen’s singing his lungs out, though he doesn’t know much. Brown, on the other hand, might lead us up the food chain a little higher.” Chesterton looked up at him from beneath his thick brows. “Good work, Deputy. You might want to consider running for this office someday.”
Shane didn’t hide his surprise. “Sir?”
Chesterton sagged on a sigh. “I’m tired, O’Brien. I don’t know how many terms I have left in me. I want someone who’s not only capable but has a high level of integrity to take my place when I leave office. Ideally, that someone would live in this town and feel about it the same way I do. I look around, and the best candidate I see is sitting in front of me.” He narrowed his eyes. “And if you breathe a word about what I just said toanyone, I’ll deny it, and you’ll look like a power-grubbing liar. In other words, like a politician. Now get out of here. I’ve got to put in some time on this election.”
Shane bolted for the door but paused with his hand on the knob. He turned toward the sheriff. “I’ve got free time on my hands. Would you like help with your campaign?”
Chesterton offered the first genuine smile Shane had seen in a long time. “There are policies in place that rule that out, son. I can’t be having my deputy out stumping for me while there’s an investigation hanging over his head. If IA or the DA gets wind of you being tied up in my campaign while you’re on leave, it looks like I’m rewarding you, and we’ll both be in hot water. So while I appreciate the offer, I need you to lay low. Let this blow over.”
Shane gave him a head bob. “I can do that.”
Amy entered the roomand lowered herself onto ahard plastic chair at a narrow, grubby counter that spanned three visitor stations. The space was stark and cramped, stripped of all warmth. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, bleaching every surface with an unforgiving glare. Her stomach was coiled like a spring ready to let loose, and she shuddered involuntarily. Behind a counter-to-ceiling partition of thick, scuffed glass sat Micky in an orange jumpsuit, tethered to his spot by the watchful eye of a deputy who stood near the door. The only way to bridge the divide was through black telephones dangling on cords. Micky picked up his receiver and motioned for her to do the same. Fingers trembling, she lifted hers from its cradle and placed it against her ear. It was hard and cold in her hand, its cord tugging as if to remind her she didn’t belong here.
She pulled in a steadying breath. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” His eyes were sunken, the shadows beneath them dark purple. His cheekbones protruded through paper-thin skin devoid of color. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked sick. “Why are you here?”
She didn’t know. She had planned to let him have it for what he’d put her through, but seeing him like this … Tiny fissures formed, cracked, and spread across the surface of her heart.
