Copeland.
A businessman in his upper fifties with thinning gray hair and an affinity for wearing suits despite the Alabama heat, he was running the entire operation from Kipsy. It was the only city within the Riker County Sheriff’s Department purview, Carpenter being one of three towns. But where he kept the drugs—whether it was through the city or towns—and when he moved them were mysteries. Which was the reason Billy hadn’t had the pleasure of arresting him yet. They couldn’t prove anything, not even after two drug dealers admitted who their boss was. Because, according to the judge and Bryan’s fancy lawyer, there was no hard evidence. So that was why, late on a Thursday night, Billy Reed was seated at the Eagle finishing off his second beer when a woman sat down next to him and cleared her throat.
“Are you Deputy Reed? Billy Reed?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Billy raised his eyebrow. He didn’t recognize the woman. And he would have remembered if he had met her before.
She had long black hair that framed a clear and determined face. Dark eyes that openly searched his expression, trying to figure him out for whatever reason, high cheekbones, pink, pink lips, and an expression that was split between contemplation and caution. All details that created a truly beautiful woman. One who had the deputy’s full attention.
“Yes, that’s me,” he answered. “But I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
The woman, who he had placed just under his own age of thirty-two, pasted on a smile and cut her eyes around them before answering.
“I believe you’re trying to build a case against my father.” Billy immediately went on red alert, ready to field whatever anger or resentment the woman had with him. However, what she said next changed everything. Her dark eyes hardened, resolute. With a voice free of any doubt, she gave Billy exactly what he needed. “And I can help you do just that.”
Three years later, Billy Reed was kicking off his shoes, digging into his DVR and turning on a game he’d been meaning to watch for a month. During the season he hadn’t had time to keep up with teams or scores but he liked the white noise it produced. And, maybe if it was a close enough game, his focus might leave his work long enough to enjoy it.
He popped off the cap of his beer and smiled at the thought.
He’d been the Riker County sheriff for under two years, although he’d lived his entire life within its lines, just as his father had before him. It was one of the reasons Sheriff Rockwell had personally endorsed Billy to take his place when he’d decided it was time to retire.
“You always want what’s best for Riker and I can’t think of a better outlook for a sheriff,” Rockwell had said. “After what you’ve helped do for this place already, I can’t imagine a better fit.”
Billy’s eyes traveled to a framed picture of the former sheriff shaking his hand. The picture had been taken during a press conference that had come at one of the most rewarding moments of Billy’s career as deputy, when drug supplier Bryan Copeland had been locked behind bars for good.
He didn’t know it at the time, but that case would help him become the man he was today—the sheriff who was trying desperately to pretend there was such a thing as a night off. He took a pull on his beer. But as soon as he tried to move his focus to the game on the TV, his phone came to life.
So much for trying.
The caller ID said Suzy. Not a name he’d wanted to see until the next morning. He sighed and answered.
“I just got home, Suzy,” he said.
Suzanne Simmons didn’t attempt to verbally walk carefully around him. Never mind the fact that he was the boss now. He didn’t expect her to, either. She’d been his friend for years.
“That ain’t my problem, Sheriff,” she snapped. “What is my problem is Bernie Lutz’s girlfriend drunk and yelling at my desk.”
Billy put his beer down on the coffee table, already resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of it.
“Say again?”
He’d known Suzy since they were in middle school and knew that the short pause she took before answering was her way of trying to rearrange her thoughts without adding in the emotion. As chief deputy she couldn’t be seen flying off the handle when her anger flared. The sheriff’s right-hand man, or woman in this case, needed to appear more professional than that. Though that hadn’t stopped her from expressing herself within the privacy of his office from time to time.
“Bernie Lutz, you remember him?” she asked. “Short guy with that tattoo of his ex-wife on his right arm?”
Billy nodded to himself, mind already going through old files.
“Yeah, drug dealer until he went the straight and narrow about a year ago.” Billy remembered something else. “He said he found Jesus and started doing community service when he got out of lockup.”
“Well, it looks like he just found a whole lot more than Jesus,” Suzy said. “Jessica, his girlfriend, just ran into the station yelling about finding him dead in a ditch when she went out to their house. She’s asking for our protection now. And, by asking, I mean yelling for it.”
Billy ran his hand down his face, trying to get the facts straight.
“So, did you check out if what she said was true?” he asked.
“Working on it. I tried to get her to come with me to show me exactly where she found him but, Billy, she freaked out big-time. Said they could still be watching her.”
Billy stood, already looking for the shoes he’d kicked off when he’d thought his night off might stick. His cowboy hat was always easier to find. He scooped it up off the back of the couch and put it on. The act alone helped focus him even more.
“They?” he asked.
“She claims that two men came to the house last week and asked Bernie for drugs, and when he said he didn’t deal anymore, they told him they’d come back and get them both.” Suzy lowered her voice a little. “To be honest, I think Jessica is under the influence of something right now—why didn’t she call us from the scene?—but I sent Dante out there to check it out. I just wanted to give you a heads-up if this thing ends up escalating and poor Bernie really is in a ditch somewhere.”
Billy spotted his shoes and went to put them on.
“Go ahead and get descriptions of the men she claims paid them a visit,” he said. “They could very well be suspects in a murder. And, if not, at the very least, they could be trying to buy or spread narcotics in the community.” His thoughts flew back to Bryan Copeland.
“And we don’t want any more of that,” she finished.
“No,” Billy said. “Definitely not.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a call when this all pans out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, tying the laces to his shoes. “I’m coming in.”
“But—”
