Trusting the Sheriff by Janice Kay Johnson

Author:Janice Kay Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

Phone to his ear, Caleb Tanner leaned back in his large desk chair and stacked his booted feet on his desk. He thought it unlikely Mike Donahue had called in the middle of a working day for no reason but to catch up, but so far, all they’d done was chitchat—his mother’s description for meaningless talk. Fortunately, he was a patient man. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be.

He and Donahue had known each other as Kansas City PD officers, partnering together in the drug-enforcement unit for a couple of years. Undercover work was hell on marriage or having a family—or even meeting a girlfriend or buddies at a bar to watch football games. Caleb, for one, had decided he wasn’t made for a high-adrenaline lifestyle. He didn’t know what motivated Donahue, but both had ultimately made the move to Homicide, where they’d stayed friends of a sort despite the twenty-year difference between them. They hadn’t been close enough to really stay in touch after Caleb left KCPD and took the job as sheriff of this rural northeast-Missouri county.

Which made today’s phone call a puzzle.

“You’re not bored out of your skull yet?” Donahue asked him.

Thinking of his last few wildly busy days, Caleb laughed. “Don’t have time to get bored. Do you have any idea how shorthanded a department like mine is? When I’m not juggling too few officers to cover shifts, I’m riding patrol to fill a gap, or giving talks to community organizations. I respond to accidents. My two detectives need guidance. When we have anything halfway serious happen, I usually take lead. I give press conferences, deal with the county commissioners, unhappy citizens. Come to think of it, it’s not all that different from heading a homicide squad, except you can keep out of the public eye.”

“Good thing, considering my general lack of tact.”

With a grin, Caleb said, “Won’t disagree.” When Donahue didn’t make an immediate comeback, Caleb remarked, “Saw on the news that you had a couple of detectives shot a week or so ago. They yours?”

The sergeant gusted a sigh. “Yeah, and that’s really why I called. I’m hoping you’ll do something for me.”

Caleb’s eyebrows climbed. Now, this was unexpected. “And what would that be?” he asked, trying to hide his caution.

“Has to do with the shooting.” Donahue gave him more detail about the ugly scene in the alley than news outlets had reported. Two young detectives—partners—who’d to all appearances shot each other. One dead, one badly injured but surviving.

“The survivor is a woman,” Donahue said grimly. “She came up from patrol not quite a year ago. Seemed to be catching on fine. Detective Walker said he was happy with the pairing. Still, I had a lot of faith in him, and she’s new. I think she’s corrupt, and murdered him when he found out she was involved in something bad.”

“You’re thinking drugs?”

“We both know that’s the likely answer. They were in the Prospect corridor, behind a bar where we’ve made more than a few arrests for drugs and prostitution.

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