Wolf’s door was open and he stopped before it, motioning her in first.
Wilson sat in a chair inside the office. Suddenly, she had a thought: If Wilson is leaving and I’m taking his place, who’s going to be Chief Detective? Yates or Rachette? And, if so, why aren’t they in this meeting, too?
Wilson stood up, as did DA White next to him. So did her aunt, Mayor Margaret Hitchens, and her husband Scott.
“Hello, Heather,” Wilson said.
Patterson stopped inside the doorway. “Hello,” she said slowly, as the door clicked shut behind her and the group took their seats.
A single chair sat vacant next to Wolf on the other side of the desk. Wolf motioned to it.
She walked behind Wilson and White. Why are Margaret and Scott here? Her husband was avoiding eye contact, which was a tell for when he knew he was doing something wrong. Or, at least, knew he’d done something she would disapprove of.
Margaret’s face had the same blank half-smile she wore when she was holding back a tirade against somebody who pissed her off.
Now she felt like she was attending an intervention and she was the guest of honor.
What is this?
She sat down next to Wolf. The butterflies were back.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Heather.” Wolf turned in his chair towards her. “I’ve called this meeting to discuss some changes that are afoot here in the department. Changes that will involve you centrally, or…not.”
“Okay.” She smiled at the absurdity of the sentence. “Hopefully they involve me. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Unless…you have plans that say otherwise.”
Wolf stood up and pushed his chair in, then started pacing.
She frowned. Shit. Maybe she was getting fired. Or somehow relocated? Is that why Scott was here?
Uncertainty swirled inside her, and suddenly her life was flashing before her eyes, only the moments she saw were ones where she’d snapped at Wolf, or made a snide remark to DA White, or been too harsh with Wilson.
She looked to Scott. Her husband was now looking at her in the eye. His eyebrows were peaked with concern, and then he smiled like everything was going to be alright.
“What the hell’s going on?” she asked.
“Heather, we want to talk to you about this November,” Wolf said.
“What about it?”
“Elections,” Margaret said.
Wolf looked at her aunt like she’d said something wrong. Margaret hid a smirk.
“Yeah. Okay. Elections.” Patterson upturned her hands.
“This is a tough subject to discuss delicately,” Wolf said, “so I’m just going to come out and say it. I don’t want to be sheriff anymore. I’m not going to run for sheriff in November. Wilson doesn’t want to be sheriff, we know he felt that way last year and he still feels the same way now. As of yet no other candidates have come forth. We’ve gathered here today to tell you we’d like you to be sheriff of this county.”
Her vision went blurry for a few moments as she wondered if she was actually conscious.
“Wait,” she said. “No. Wilson, I thought you got the job with Denver PD. I thought you were leaving and you wanted me to take the Undersheriff position.”
Wilson straightened. “What? No, I turned it down. I’m not moving to freakin’ Denver.”
“She’s gonna pass out,” Margaret said with a chuckle.
“What?” Patterson shook her head. “Me? Sheriff?”
“Yes, you,” Wolf said.
She felt her face burn red, her chest pounding. She stood up and walked to the window as she composed herself with some deep breaths.
“Heather,” Wolf said, “You’re the best we have in this building. And I know I’ve said it before, and that wasn’t just because I wanted you to complete that budget proposal. That was the truth.”
“You’re the best we have in this county,” Margaret said. “Not just this building.”
The wave of panic passed through her and cold logic settled in. She turned around. “Look. Guys. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m thirty-four years old.”
“So what?” Wolf said.
“So, that’s young. Thirty-four years old is young.”
“You’re most qualified for the job,” Wolf said.
She scoffed at his dismissiveness. “It’s not just that. I’m also a w—” she stopped herself and looked out the window again.
“What?” Margaret asked. “You’re a woman? Is that what you were going to say?”
Her ankle sparked with pain as she spun around. “Yes, damn it! I’m a woman! I’m thirty-four years old and I’m a woman. Doesn’t that seem like it might be a little bit tough for the citizens of Sluice-Byron County to swallow? Doesn’t that for one moment give any of you pause?”
Blood roared in her ears.
DA White raised a finger. “The thought of you becoming sheriff most definitely gives me pause, but not because you’re a thirty-four-year-old woman. You would be a political pain in the ass. But you’d be effective because you’re hard-headed, you get stuff done, and you don’t take shit from anybody. It gives me pause, but just because, you know, it’s you.”
White picked at his cufflink.
“Uh, thank you, District Attorney,” Margaret said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Heather,” Wolf said, sitting on the edge of his desk, “I could stay on as sheriff, put Wilson on as chief detective, and bring you up as undersheriff for four years where you could learn the ropes, and then you could run as sheriff after that with a lot more confidence.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good to me. That’s exactly what I thought this meeting was about.”
Wolf shrugged. “But you’ve been pretty much doing my job this whole time. In looking out for me over the last year, you’ve taken it upon yourself to learn every squeak in every wheel of this huge machine. And when you see something that needs greasing, you hand me the bottle and tell me where to apply it.”
“Excellent metaphor,” Margaret said.
“Shut up.” Wolf stood and karate chopped one hand with the other. “Let’s cut through the unnecessary steps here and get you where you belong. These deputies, these people above and below us,” he pointed at White, “they need you. You
