“Hold that thought,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Glancing back at the state park ranger, she felt herself falling in love.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Monday, July 20th
9:35 a.m.
Thomas stared at the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department building through the windshield of his Ford F-150. Puddles soaked the parking lot and reflected billowing clouds. After last night’s downpour, the world seemed bathed in green grass and leaves, almost otherworldly. Sunlight simmered behind the clouds and struggled to burn through the dense overcast.
His fingers drummed the steering wheel with indecision before he lifted the phone and replayed his messages. Neil Gardy with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had left two voice-mails. The consulting position was his. All Thomas had to do was say yes.
Three months ago, when he’d returned to Wolf Lake, the future was bright with promise. Now the village seemed unrepairable, damaged beyond reconstruction. How could he give up Uncle Truman’s A-frame? And what would become of LeVar and the Mourning family, if he packed his bags and left? Since he’d plastered the town with lost dog signs, nobody had claimed Jack. The loyal dog was his, and he’d accompany Thomas to Virginia. But nothing compared to the life Thomas could offer Jack beside Wolf Lake.
Inside the office, Sheriff Gray moved past the window. Someone needed to convince Gray to step down. As much as it pained Thomas, the sheriff wasn’t fit to hold his position. At sixty, Gray remained as sharp as when Thomas first met him. Tragedy had ruined the sheriff and tainted his judgment. Thomas couldn’t work under Gray another day. But he wouldn’t be the one to tell his mentor he needed to retire. He’d sooner leave than tear the sheriff’s heart out.
The walk across the parking lot felt like a death march. He pulled the door open and donned a painted-on smile. Maggie wasn’t buying it.
The administrative assistant took in a sharp breath.
“Thomas? Did something happen to…”
“My father is recovering fine, Maggie. Thank you. I need to speak with the sheriff.”
“He’s in his office,” Maggie said, fiddling with the stapler. “Go right in. Fair warning. He’s in one of his moods this morning.”
Thomas passed through the office. An open box of donuts sat in the break room, and Aguilar and Lambert were hunched over their computers. Aguilar’s eyes followed Thomas as he marched toward the sheriff’s office.
Seated behind his desk, Gray appeared a shell of his former self as he scribbled his signature on a form. The sheriff’s clothes hung off his body like shedding skin, and the circles under his eyes ran deep. Had the man slept since Thomas gunned down Thea Barlow?
“Close the door,” Gray said without looking up.
Thomas complied. With the window shut, the close confines amplified every noise in the room—the squeaky wheels of Gray’s rolling chair, the desk clock ticking like a bomb. Gray set the papers aside and tossed the pen inside his desk drawer. His eyes were hard and bloodshot.
“You openly defied my orders inside the church. What’s more, you questioned me at every turn during the investigation.”
Thomas didn’t reply. He forced himself to hold his chin high and ride out the storm. It would all be over soon.
“And you were right to do so,” the sheriff said, glowering. Thomas blinked. “I was a fool. Since spring, I’ve committed too many judgment errors to count. If it wasn’t for you, I would have arrested Fowler and exposed the department to a humiliating lawsuit. I’m positive the bastard killed my Lana. But he didn’t murder Cecilia Bond and Lincoln Ramsey, and he was at the church when Kay Ramsey and Garrick Tillery died.” Gray leaned back in his chair, removed his hat, and set it upon the desk. “I’m stepping down, Thomas. I’m no longer qualified to hold this position. Seems everyone acknowledges this truth except me.”
“Sheriff?”
“Don’t talk me out of it. I’ve made up my mind, and life is too short to torture myself for another year. My time has passed.” He clasped his hands over his belly and assessed the deputy sitting across from him. “I’d like you to be sheriff.”
Thomas swallowed.
“Me?”
“You were overqualified for the deputy’s position when you came to me in April. A decade with the LAPD. Then you rose to detective and led a task force with the DEA. Nobody’s more qualified to man the ship than you, which makes it even more ridiculous I didn’t defer to your judgment during the Fowler investigation.”
“What about Aguilar and Lambert? They’ve been here longer.”
Gray glanced at the closed door and shook his head.
“Lambert is a great deputy, but he isn’t a leader. And Aguilar doesn’t want the job. She’d be out of her element dealing with politics.”
Thomas’s legs bounced below the desk. This was the last scenario he envisioned when he’d entered the building.
“You can’t name me sheriff. The people of Nightshade County will decide who the next sheriff is.”
Gray’s eyes grinned at Thomas.
“I ran unopposed the last two elections, and you will too. Plus, you solved the Jeremy Hyde and Thea Barlow murders. The people won’t forget what you did for Wolf Lake. The county commissioners will appoint you interim sheriff, if I put in a good word. My opinion still carries weight in this county, even if it shouldn’t.” Gray slid the chair forward and set his forearms on the desk. “You’d make the best sheriff this county has ever seen. Now, stop being a humble bastard and accept the position.”
Thomas ran a hand through his hair. He’d never envisioned himself as sheriff. Was Gray’s confidence in him misplaced?
“Allow me a day to mull this over. I’ll give you an answer by four o’clock tomorrow.”
The two men rose from their chairs. Gray clasped hands with Thomas.
“Nightshade County needs you, Thomas. Don’t let us down.”
