Rick's office when he'd confronted Wainscott about it.
"The whole world's going to hell in a hand basket," Rick muttered to himself as he trekked outside to his department-issued SUV. "Why do I even want to stay in office?"
He didn't know the answer to that question, but he did know he wanted to continue to serve Keller County. Thus the trip across town to the department's latest crime scene.
The blue lights atop Deputy Tiffany Ransom's cruiser helped him zero in on the body, in a small gravel parking lot across the street from the Kitty Kat Klub. Rick would love nothing more than to shut down the city's strip clubs, but the courts had stalled the campaign he'd started when he'd first been elected and the county attorney had advised him to drop the issue.
He parked at the curb behind Tiffany's ride and got out. She met him on the sidewalk.
"Sheriff?" She frowned. "Didn't expect to see you down here tonight. Where's Mitch?"
"Out chasing a reluctant witness. If he doesn't find the guy, our case will fall apart in court tomorrow."
"Guess I shouldn't expect him to make it home in time for breakfast, then."
"I'd say no."
"Figures." She blew out a weary sigh. "I'll be glad when Jonah and Tripp get back. Have you heard from Cash? How's Tessa?"
"Doing okay. Just a broken arm. Could've been a helluva lot worse since that delivery truck T-boned her Mazda."
"Don't I know it. I've worked several liked that." Tiffany frowned.
Rick looked past her at the victim on the ground. He was a big guy. "What do we have?"
"A Caucasian male in his late-thirties with a jagged wound to the gut. He appears to have bled out quickly."
"Ah, Christ."
"According to his driver's license, his name's Dirk Woodward. Lives in the Briarcrest Apartments out near the mall."
"I know the place." Rick squinted at the strip club across the street. "Was he a patron?"
"My guess is yes, but I don't know for sure. Nobody's there right now. The place closed at one, and the employees apparently cleared out pretty quickly."
"Figures." He glanced at his watch. One forty-five. "Have you called CSU?"
"Yes, sir. They're on the way. Surprised you beat 'em here."
"I was still at the office doing paperwork." He walked over to the body and dropped to his haunches beside it. Blood had soaked Woodward's white knit shirt and pooled on the ground beneath him. The man's eyes were closed, and he had his right hand bunched into a fist. By the amount of blood, Rick figured Tiffany was right about him bleeding out fast.
A white CSU van roared up, and Rick came to his feet.
Tiffany met the techs beside the van and gave them a brief overview of the scene. "The sheriff's working this one, so you guys had better be on the ball."
"Howdy, Sheriff," Ben Hanson, one of the techs, called out. "Long time, no see."
"Evenin', Ben. Figured it was time for me to get out from behind my desk and do some actual police work."
"That wouldn't have anything to do with the election coming up, would it?"
"Maybe. We are pretty short-handed, though. Somebody has to pick up the slack." Rick bobbed his head toward the building as Ben walked up. "Make sure you search the area for the murder weapon. I'm guessing a knife, but don't really know for sure."
"Yes, sir."
"The strip club has security cameras on each corner of the building, and the one on the right looks like it's aimed this way." Tiffany jabbed her thumb toward the camera in question. "See? I'll find out who owns the club and run 'em down in the morning. I'll do my best to get my hands on that tape."
"I appreciate that, Deputy." Rick met her eyes. "You jonesing to make detective?"
"Not really, sir. I just want to do a good job." She ducked her head, spun on her heels, and marched off toward her cruiser.
"Wrong answer, Tiffany," he murmured to himself with a chuckle. "You do want to make detective, so you'll be Mitch's equal. Get a little more experience, and you just might."
"Excuse me, sir?" From his spot crouched beside the body,
"The whole world's going to hell in a hand basket," Rick muttered to himself as he trekked outside to his department-issued SUV. "Why do I even want to stay in office?"
He didn't know the answer to that question, but he did know he wanted to continue to serve Keller County. Thus the trip across town to the department's latest crime scene.
The blue lights atop Deputy Tiffany Ransom's cruiser helped him zero in on the body, in a small gravel parking lot across the street from the Kitty Kat Klub. Rick would love nothing more than to shut down the city's strip clubs, but the courts had stalled the campaign he'd started when he'd first been elected and the county attorney had advised him to drop the issue.
He parked at the curb behind Tiffany's ride and got out. She met him on the sidewalk.
"Sheriff?" She frowned. "Didn't expect to see you down here tonight. Where's Mitch?"
"Out chasing a reluctant witness. If he doesn't find the guy, our case will fall apart in court tomorrow."
"Guess I shouldn't expect him to make it home in time for breakfast, then."
"I'd say no."
"Figures." She blew out a weary sigh. "I'll be glad when Jonah and Tripp get back. Have you heard from Cash? How's Tessa?"
"Doing okay. Just a broken arm. Could've been a helluva lot worse since that delivery truck T-boned her Mazda."
"Don't I know it. I've worked several liked that." Tiffany frowned.
Rick looked past her at the victim on the ground. He was a big guy. "What do we have?"
"A Caucasian male in his late-thirties with a jagged wound to the gut. He appears to have bled out quickly."
"Ah, Christ."
"According to his driver's license, his name's Dirk Woodward. Lives in the Briarcrest Apartments out near the mall."
"I know the place." Rick squinted at the strip club across the street. "Was he a patron?"
"My guess is yes, but I don't know for sure. Nobody's there right now. The place closed at one, and the employees apparently cleared out pretty quickly."
"Figures." He glanced at his watch. One forty-five. "Have you called CSU?"
"Yes, sir. They're on the way. Surprised you beat 'em here."
"I was still at the office doing paperwork." He walked over to the body and dropped to his haunches beside it. Blood had soaked Woodward's white knit shirt and pooled on the ground beneath him. The man's eyes were closed, and he had his right hand bunched into a fist. By the amount of blood, Rick figured Tiffany was right about him bleeding out fast.
A white CSU van roared up, and Rick came to his feet.
Tiffany met the techs beside the van and gave them a brief overview of the scene. "The sheriff's working this one, so you guys had better be on the ball."
"Howdy, Sheriff," Ben Hanson, one of the techs, called out. "Long time, no see."
"Evenin', Ben. Figured it was time for me to get out from behind my desk and do some actual police work."
"That wouldn't have anything to do with the election coming up, would it?"
"Maybe. We are pretty short-handed, though. Somebody has to pick up the slack." Rick bobbed his head toward the building as Ben walked up. "Make sure you search the area for the murder weapon. I'm guessing a knife, but don't really know for sure."
"Yes, sir."
"The strip club has security cameras on each corner of the building, and the one on the right looks like it's aimed this way." Tiffany jabbed her thumb toward the camera in question. "See? I'll find out who owns the club and run 'em down in the morning. I'll do my best to get my hands on that tape."
"I appreciate that, Deputy." Rick met her eyes. "You jonesing to make detective?"
"Not really, sir. I just want to do a good job." She ducked her head, spun on her heels, and marched off toward her cruiser.
"Wrong answer, Tiffany," he murmured to himself with a chuckle. "You do want to make detective, so you'll be Mitch's equal. Get a little more experience, and you just might."
"Excuse me, sir?" From his spot crouched beside the body,
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