To Dust Return by Michael Newton

Author:Michael Newton [Newton, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647349059
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2020-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

10

Mahan woke before his travel clock could start to jangle, and he tried to keep the noise down as he shaved and showered, but he still found Rose already up and dressed when he stepped from the cabin's washroom.

"Thin walls. Sorry for disturbing you."

"It's fine. I never slept this late before…you know."

"I've always been an early bird, myself," Mahan allowed.

"So, what's our next step after breakfast?"

"I should check in with the sheriff. Someone must've called ahead by now, either that Bolton character or Sheriff Whitmore."

"What are you expecting him to say?"

"The usual. He doesn't want outsiders butting in on what's likely the biggest case he'll ever handle. He especially won't like you being in on it, so I should try and talk to him alone."

"You mentioned Captain Bolton. Is he likely to be coming here?"

"I'd say it's fifty-fifty," Mahan answered. "At the very least, he'll have one of his Motor Vehicle Inspectors horning in, most likely coming from Salina or Dodge City since they're spread so thin."

"I'll fight them if they try to take me back to that damned hospital," Rose said.

"Don't borrow trouble. I just want to see this Sheriff Caldwell. He won't tell me much of anything—won't mean to, anyhow—but sometimes what a person doesn't say tells you exactly what you need to know."

"Maybe he'll catch the killer."

"It's a nice thought, but I reckon he's already missed him, like the other cops he gave the slip to. That's including me."

"But you're still trying."

"Never cared for giving up."

After breakfast at a coffee shop a block from Pete's diner—no point in setting patterns that could work against them—Mahan took Rose back to the Sunflower, had her hang the PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB sign on their cabin's door. From there, Mahan drove to the Logan County courthouse on West Second Street. As often was the case with small and mid-sized county seats, the sheriff had his office and lockup adjacent to the courthouse, although not inside it.

Mahan, having left his Smith & Wesson at the tourist court with Rose, his sap and switchblade in the Ford, walked in unarmed and with his badge hidden inside a shirt pocket. The deputy assigned to morning duty on the desk was in his early thirties, muscular, his sandy hair crewcut in military style. His blue eyes studied Mahan up and down.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I'm hoping for a couple minutes with your sheriff if he's got the time to spare."

"Your business being…?"

"The attack that killed a bunch of people recently, a few miles west of town."

The deputy's right hand dipped toward his holstered sidearm without grasping it. "And who are you, sir?"

"Wallace Mahan, formerly a Texas Ranger, detailed to pursue the man responsible for similar mass murders down our way, then into Oklahoma and across the line to Kansas."

"You said former Ranger."

"Right. I'm off the clock on this job, like Frank Hamer on that deal last year."

"Bonnie and Clyde?"

"The very ones."

"Stand easy for a sec. I'll go see what if the sheriff's got time to discuss it with you.

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