a wheelchair with his sack of dirty laundry in his lap.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the MRI?”
“I’m lucky I didn’t herniate a bunch of discs. Some are bulging, but I should heal if I lie still—”
“For seventy-two hours,” they said with one voice.
A care-giver appeared with documents, which Rob signed, while Meg ran out to the car and drove it to the entrance. He was wheeled to the car door and decanted with only a few groans. She fastened his seat belt, and he handed her a sheaf of papers.
“Prescriptions?”
“Painkillers, blood thinners, muscle relaxants.”
“Sounds lethal. I’ll fill them when you’re on your back again.” She drove home cautiously.
Two hours later, she returned from rearranging her own schedule, filling Rob’s prescriptions, and tidying his house, where she ran into a sortie of McCormicks with suitcases. She locked Rob’s home office because of the computer and left everything else to fate and chance.
When she returned, Rob lay on the hide-a-bed in conference with Jeff Fong and Jake Sorenson, who had seized the business records from Drinkwater’s office and were about to go out to his house. Drinkwater was still missing. The department had issued an APB, and Rob was asking for an arrest warrant—he was emphatically still on duty. At least he was lying down. Flat.
Meg left the deputies to it and went off to the kitchen to cook. The phone rang as she was mixing biscuits. When caller ID showed Earl Minetti’s name, she was tempted not to answer.
Minetti was brusque but not quite rude. He asked for Rob. She took the phone to the living room—Rob’s cell phone sat on her counter recharging—and handed it to him. “It’s the undersheriff.”
“Neill,” Rob said, just as brusque as his new boss.
“Yeah, I’m under doctor’s orders to lie still for three days. You are? When? All right. No, Drinkwater hasn’t responded. I started leaving messages for him before seven this morning. Must be out of town.”
Minetti’s voice went on at length.
Rob kept his face impassive. Meg had never heard him criticize Minetti in front of a department member. “Yes, sure, Earl. I’ll do what I can. Right.” He hit the Off button and handed Meg the phone. “Thanks. Earl is going to call in state investigators in the morning.” That must have felt like a slap in the face.
Jeff and Jake groaned. One of them said, “Fuck.”
“In the cards,” Rob said without emotion. “The staties will take the Drinkwater case file, so copy it. See what you can find in his records by tomorrow. Look for evidence that somebody did him a large favor.”
“Who?” Jeff asked. He looked puzzled.
Rob closed his eyes. He was gray in the face and not from ash. “A familiar name,” he said heavily. “Somebody in county government. We can hope it was Hal Brandstetter.” Commissioner Brandstetter was safely dead.
Jeff glanced at Meg.
Rob said, “And in case you’re wondering, I swore Meg in as a reserve deputy last fall, remember?”
Jeff and Jake nodded.
“My lips are sealed.” Meg spoke lightly but she meant it.
“Call Linda in and that kid Corky has working for him, the computer nerd. And Jake—”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t work all night. You had a heavy morning.”
Jake said, “I’m not tired.”
“Liar.”
Meg was fond of Jake. His sister drove the bookmobile. He was technically in the uniform branch, but Rob borrowed him a lot. Now he looked more than tired. They had found the rest of the Gautier family—crushed and smothered in their beds—about the time Rob’s back gave out.
Rob turned to Jeff. “You can use my office in the annex. Play this by the book every step of the way. I want a golden chain of evidence.”
Jeff said, “What if Minetti sticks his nose in?”
“He won’t. He’s got other things to do. If he asks, tell him the truth. You have the records. You got them properly. You’re preparing them for the state boys.”
When the
“Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the MRI?”
“I’m lucky I didn’t herniate a bunch of discs. Some are bulging, but I should heal if I lie still—”
“For seventy-two hours,” they said with one voice.
A care-giver appeared with documents, which Rob signed, while Meg ran out to the car and drove it to the entrance. He was wheeled to the car door and decanted with only a few groans. She fastened his seat belt, and he handed her a sheaf of papers.
“Prescriptions?”
“Painkillers, blood thinners, muscle relaxants.”
“Sounds lethal. I’ll fill them when you’re on your back again.” She drove home cautiously.
Two hours later, she returned from rearranging her own schedule, filling Rob’s prescriptions, and tidying his house, where she ran into a sortie of McCormicks with suitcases. She locked Rob’s home office because of the computer and left everything else to fate and chance.
When she returned, Rob lay on the hide-a-bed in conference with Jeff Fong and Jake Sorenson, who had seized the business records from Drinkwater’s office and were about to go out to his house. Drinkwater was still missing. The department had issued an APB, and Rob was asking for an arrest warrant—he was emphatically still on duty. At least he was lying down. Flat.
Meg left the deputies to it and went off to the kitchen to cook. The phone rang as she was mixing biscuits. When caller ID showed Earl Minetti’s name, she was tempted not to answer.
Minetti was brusque but not quite rude. He asked for Rob. She took the phone to the living room—Rob’s cell phone sat on her counter recharging—and handed it to him. “It’s the undersheriff.”
“Neill,” Rob said, just as brusque as his new boss.
“Yeah, I’m under doctor’s orders to lie still for three days. You are? When? All right. No, Drinkwater hasn’t responded. I started leaving messages for him before seven this morning. Must be out of town.”
Minetti’s voice went on at length.
Rob kept his face impassive. Meg had never heard him criticize Minetti in front of a department member. “Yes, sure, Earl. I’ll do what I can. Right.” He hit the Off button and handed Meg the phone. “Thanks. Earl is going to call in state investigators in the morning.” That must have felt like a slap in the face.
Jeff and Jake groaned. One of them said, “Fuck.”
“In the cards,” Rob said without emotion. “The staties will take the Drinkwater case file, so copy it. See what you can find in his records by tomorrow. Look for evidence that somebody did him a large favor.”
“Who?” Jeff asked. He looked puzzled.
Rob closed his eyes. He was gray in the face and not from ash. “A familiar name,” he said heavily. “Somebody in county government. We can hope it was Hal Brandstetter.” Commissioner Brandstetter was safely dead.
Jeff glanced at Meg.
Rob said, “And in case you’re wondering, I swore Meg in as a reserve deputy last fall, remember?”
Jeff and Jake nodded.
“My lips are sealed.” Meg spoke lightly but she meant it.
“Call Linda in and that kid Corky has working for him, the computer nerd. And Jake—”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t work all night. You had a heavy morning.”
Jake said, “I’m not tired.”
“Liar.”
Meg was fond of Jake. His sister drove the bookmobile. He was technically in the uniform branch, but Rob borrowed him a lot. Now he looked more than tired. They had found the rest of the Gautier family—crushed and smothered in their beds—about the time Rob’s back gave out.
Rob turned to Jeff. “You can use my office in the annex. Play this by the book every step of the way. I want a golden chain of evidence.”
Jeff said, “What if Minetti sticks his nose in?”
“He won’t. He’s got other things to do. If he asks, tell him the truth. You have the records. You got them properly. You’re preparing them for the state boys.”
When the
Similar Books
