sheriff’s office. A young deputy jumped out of his truck. He turned the doorknob, then paused.
So, the sheriff was usually in before now.
The deputy dug his keys from his pocket, inserted one into the lock and pushed the door open.
Strickland’s phone vibrated. “Tell me you have something,” he bit out to Krauss.
“Nothing. Checked out the abandoned house where we triangulated the sheriff’s cell signal. Evidence of someone there, but gone. No prints.”
“His place?”
“Nothing.”
“We’re out of options,” Strickland said. “I’m going to have a chat with the young deputy.” He ended the call, tucked his unidentifiable Glock in his holster, waited for a couple of cars to pass by and stepped out of the vehicle.
He crossed the street and slipped into the sheriff’s office.
“Deputy?”
“Can I help you, sir?”
The young man poked his head out from the back room. Strickland could take him out now and no one would have a lead to follow. He ran his hand over the weapon. “Looking for the sheriff.”
The deputy sighed. “You and me both. He’s not here yet.”
“When do you expect him back?”
The kid stiffened, finally recognizing Strickland could very well be dangerous. “I told you I don’t know. How can I help you?”
The kid shifted his stance, subtly showing his sidearm.
Strickland flashed his identification badge. “Federal business,” he commented. “Contact him.”
The deputy’s face paled. “Of course.” He stumbled to the desk and dialed a number. After thirty seconds his face fell. “Sheriff, a federal agent is here. He needs to see you—”
Strickland grabbed the phone. He lifted the receiver and punched in the erase code. “I didn’t tell you to leave a message. Can’t risk it.”
The deputy stood up, his gaze narrowed, suspicious. “Why are you here?”
“Your sheriff might not be who he says he is, Deputy. I’m here to find out exactly who Garrett Galloway is.”
“With all due respect, no way, sir. Sheriff Galloway is the real deal.”
“You think so, do you? He ever talk about his past? He ever tell you anything about where he came from?”
“Well, no, but still, he’s a good sheriff. Everyone says so.”
“Maybe now. My agency has reason to believe he’s behind a lot of crimes. Under his real name. You recognize the name Derek Bradley?”
The kid gasped. “He’s a traitor. Sold secrets to terrorists. Caused a lot of men to get killed overseas. He got himself blown up a couple years ago.”
“So the public was led to believe.”
The deputy shook his head. “Not Sheriff Galloway.”
Strickland leaned in. “Does he trust you?”
The kid nodded. “Yeah.”
“He wouldn’t leave town without letting you know, would he?”
“No, sir.”
Strickland patted the kid’s cheek. “Okay, then, here’s what I want you to do. If he contacts you, I want you to keep your phone on. Don’t end the call.” He squeezed the deputy’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Deputy Lance Keller, sir.”
“Well, Lance, are you a patriot?”
The kid sprang to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay, then. You do this, and your country will thank you.”
The deputy met his gaze. “I think you’re wrong about the sheriff, sir.”
“Could be. If he’s innocent, nothing will happen, will it? And you’ll have helped clear him.”
Keller smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“If he’s guilty, you’ve saved a lot of lives.”
Strickland turned and opened the front door. “I’m counting on you, Keller.”
He walked back to his truck and picked up his phone. “Kid’s clueless.”
“You kill him?”
“Came a second away from pulling the trigger, but not yet. Galloway’s a straight-as-an-arrow spy. It’s what got him into trouble in the first place. He might contact the deputy. And if he does, we’ll have him.” Strickland paused. “Then I kill him.”
* * *
GARRETT PEEKED INTO the living room. Laurel and Molly were playing hide-and-seek, with Hairy Houdini the key player. He smiled softly. It had been so long since he’d heard that kind of joy.
So many lost memories.
And Laurel. She had his heart beating again. He didn’t know if he liked feeling again. A cold heart made it easier to focus on revenge.
She let out a laugh and tackled Molly in a gentle hold. Those two had melted the ice encasing his heart. And Laurel had lit a fire.
He wanted to scoop her into his arms, touch her and hold her until she trembled against him. They could both forget the past and lose themselves in each other. He’d recognized the heat, the awareness in her eyes.
She wouldn’t say no.
Problem was, Laurel was a forever kind of woman. And Garrett had stopped believing he had a forever.
The reality made this decision easier. He planted himself in his office chair and picked up the secure line. For a moment he hesitated. Daniel Adams had been through hell, but the man had connections...and he was one of the good guys. These days, men who lived by a code of honor were few and far between. Many talked the talk. Few walked the walk.
He punched in the number Daniel had given him.
“Adams.” Daniel’s voice held suspicion.
Garrett was silent for a few moments. Daniel said nothing either, obviously unwilling to give anything away.
“It’s Garrett Galloway,” he finally said.
“If you’re calling on this line, it must be serious, and not to request an invitation to Christmas dinner.”
“You said to call if I needed a favor. I might. And it’s a big one. Just how covert can your friends be?”
