The Sheriff. Angi Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ night shift at the last minute because of illness. Everyone knew the deputy had gone to Alpine to party. If he wanted to change shifts, he just needed to ask. There were twelve other deputies on the payroll, and yet Pete was covering. Again.

      Partying hadn’t been something he’d personally wanted to do for the past couple of months. But since Griggs had transferred from Jefferson Davis County, he’d been covering his shifts a lot. Covering wasn’t the problem. He got extra pay and could normally sleep on the back cot. Nothing ever happened in Marfa beyond speeding citations and public intoxication.

      Tonight was one of the exceptions. He’d make a quick pass by the official Marfa Lights Viewing Area, drive back and get some shut-eye.

      “Dispatch, I’ve got an all clear. Not seeing anything unusual. But I might as well make a run to the county line.”

      “Okey dokey, Pete. This is Peach. See you in a while.”

      He laughed at Peach’s official acknowledgment. No sense trying to get her to change. Everyone called her Peach. She insisted on it. Her sister, Honey, got the day shift since she was older. He supposed nicknames were better than Winafretta and Wilhilmina. They’d been in Dispatch for as long as his dad had been a deputy or sheriff of Presidio County. Or longer. His dad swore no one could remember hiring either of them. They’d just shown up one day.

      When his dad officially retired, the new sheriff could request replacements for them, but he’d like to see anyone tell Peach she was too old to handle things at night around the office. A shot of regret lodged like a clump of desert dirt in his throat. He’d have to withdraw his name from the election so someone else would step forward. Galen Rooney had only been on the force for a couple of years and just didn’t have the experience needed to run things.

      No matter who the county elected, they’d most likely keep him on as a deputy. If not... Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought past quitting the race. The idea of withdrawing gnawed at his gut like a bad case of food poisoning. He’d never quit anything. His dad—he couldn’t ever think of the man who’d raised him as anything else—wouldn’t be happy.

      “Crap. What the hell was that?”

      He successfully dodged a long object in the middle of the road. He swiftly U-turned the squad car, flipped his lights on and drove a couple of seconds. Parking across the road, he turned the floodlight until it shone on a black bumper resting on the yellow line.

      Joe Morrison had raised him riding shotgun in a squad car. The mental checklist of what he did exiting his vehicle was as natural as walking. Even if Peach wasn’t a stickler for the rules, he still needed to let her know exactly what he was doing.

      “Dispatch, I swung back west to pick up some road debris. Guess a bumper dropped from a car and the driver didn’t stop to take care of it. Almost sent me off the road.”

      “Wow, Sheriff Pete. It’s a good thing we got that call to take you out that way tonight, then,” Peach replied through the speaker. “What if an eighteen-wheeler had hit that thing? Oh, gosh, and what if it had been transporting fuel or hazardous waste? It might have spilled and leached into the water supply. We could have had deformed livestock or mutant wolves running around for years without anyone knowing.”

      “You reading another end-of-the-world novel, Peach?”

      “How did you know?” she asked.

      “Lucky guess.” He laughed into the microphone. Peach and Honey’s theories of espionage and Armageddon changed daily with each book they read.

      “Well, I’m at a good spot in the story, so I’ll let you clear the garbage. Shout out when you’re heading back,” she said.

      “You got it. And, Peach, will you stop with the sheriff title? You know I’m the acting sheriff until the election.”

      “I feel the same way about my dispatch title.”

      “Point taken.”

      Picking up the plastic bumper from a small car, he noticed some skid marks on the asphalt. He flipped his flashlight on and followed their path to the gravel and farther into the flattened knee-high grass. A vehicle had obviously gone off the road. He tossed the bumper to the side and started walking.

      About twenty yards away, the fence wasn’t only down, but a section had been demolished and disappeared. There was nothing in range of the flashlight beam, so he shut off the light and let his eyes adjust to the well-lit night.

      He finally spotted the car, the underbelly reflecting the starlight about four hundred yards into the field. He ran the short distance to the vehicle. The driver might need a hospital. A serious injury, he’d need to transport himself.

      “Dispatch.” Back in his car, he pointed the spotlight directly in front of the hood and followed the path through the fence. “Peach?” He raised his voice to get her attention.

      “I’m here, just finishing the chapter. You heading back?”

      “Looks like a vehicle went off the road about half a mile east of the Viewing Area. I spotted it. Driving there now. Check if there are any cattle around that could get loose, and notify the owner.”

      “Time to wake the sheriff.”

      “Don’t wake Dad. He’s officially retired.”

      “You know that’s not going to stop him. Neither could a heart attack.”

      “Give me five minutes to check out the vehicle, Peach.” And do something on his own without his dad shouting instructions in his ear. “I need to find the driver and see if we need assistance.”

      “He’s gonna be mad,” she sang into the radio. “You know how he hates to be the last told.”

      “My call.”

      “But you know how he is,” she whined.

      “Remember that he’s retired. Five minutes.”

      “Yes, sirree-dee, Acting Sheriff Morrison.”

      Yeah, but for how long? He watched the land closest to him, searching for ditches or large rocks. Closer to the vehicle, it was apparent it had hit the foundation of an old building. Whoever had been driving the car had been traveling at a high speed, hit the broken concrete and flipped the vehicle.

      He approached with caution, flashlight in hand, gun at his fingertips. “County Sheriff. Anyone need help?”

      No answer. Nothing but the cool wind.

      He switched the flashlight, looked inside the car. One body. Nonresponsive.

      “Sir?” He felt the man’s neck for a pulse. “Damn.”

      Dead.

      The body was mangled pretty badly. “You should have buckled up, stranger. How’d you end up in the backseat?” He’d seen weirder things happen in car accidents than the driver being thrown around.

      Back at his car, he pulled his radio through the open window. “Peach, send for an ambulance. We have a fatality.”

      “Poor soul.”

      “Yeah.” СКАЧАТЬ