The Deputy's Witness. Tyler Anne Snell

A pretty blonde dispatcher named Cassie, who was rumored to be as tough as nails when needed, was in the center of the room talking to another woman. Both had cups of coffee in their hands.

      “Hey, guys,” she greeted, cheer clear in her tone. “Happy Monday!”

      “There’s no such thing as happy Mondays, Cassie,” Dante pointed out, though he smiled as he made the little quip. It seemed the whole of the department functioned like that. One person saying something, only for another to add on something equally clever or nice. Most of the time it was inside jokes or references beyond Caleb’s knowledge. He tried not to let it bother him. He was the new guy, after all. Plus, once he was done with his time in Riker County, he’d go back home. So what if he wasn’t in sync with his colleagues now? He hoped it wouldn’t matter in a few months or, God forbid, a year.

      “I’m going to go see the sheriff,” Caleb said, nodding to the two women. “I’ll catch you after.”

      “Good luck,” Dante called after him.

      Caleb hoped he didn’t need it.

      He walked out of the lobby and down the hallway where the offices were located. The sheriff’s was smack in the middle, nameplate auspiciously brighter than the others. Caleb slowed, stilling himself. He knew he was more on the pricklier side of a good personality. Quiet too. So far he hadn’t met anyone in the department with the same disposition. Again, he didn’t mind if the rest of them didn’t like him. However, he did want the sheriff to find him at least agreeable. He tried on a smile that felt forced before knocking on the doorframe of the open door.

      “Come in.”

      The muscles in Caleb’s smile tightened as soon as he saw the man hunched over his desk.

      Billy Reed by no means should have been an intimidating man. From first glance he was too tall, too lean, and had dark hair that was too long. Maybe that was just Caleb’s opinion bleeding through, though, considering he was the opposite of the sheriff.

      At five-eleven, Caleb was a man who believed in the gym as much as he believed that anyone with a clipboard on the sidewalk ready to talk about political candidates or a chance to win a cruise was supposed to be ignored. With his solid shoulders, trim body and a hard jaw, the only thing that looked remotely playful about him—according to his sister—was his golden hair, cut close but still with enough curl to annoy him. He sported a goatee but had been playing with the idea of shaving it since he’d come to town, as it was just another thing that made him hot in an already hot-as-hell town. Luckily, he still looked his age of thirty without it. He knew the sheriff was on the young side too—especially for his position—but Caleb couldn’t read the man to guess an accurate age. Billy Reed was a mystery, while Caleb was the kind of man who looked like “what you see is what you get.”

      It was apparent that everyone in the department not only respected the sheriff, but liked him. And just as quickly when the man gave an order, it didn’t matter if anyone was his friend or not. Everyone listened without skipping a beat.

      So when he told Caleb to take a seat, Caleb took the seat without arguing.

      “I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Reed started. He threaded his hands on top of the desk. “I’m pulling you off patrol and putting you at the courthouse.”

      Caleb opened his mouth, ready to complain—respect and authority for the sheriff be damned—but Reed stopped him. He held his hand up for silence. “When Chief Thomas called me and asked if I had a spot for you, I was skeptical. But I’ve known Thomas a long time and he’s a good judge of character, so I looked past what happened and gave you a chance. But while you’ve done a good job so far, being new has its own set of demands.” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder to point back at the wall behind him. “That includes pulling courtroom deputy when I need you to.”

      Again, before Caleb could protest, the sheriff handed him a newspaper. A picture of a storefront with caution tape across it took up a spot above the fold.

      “Almost a year ago to the day, three armed suspects used a storm as a cover to try to rob a bank a few miles from here,” he started. “There were nine hostages, including bank employees and a security guard who was shot when they entered. A woman inside was able to get a call out to us, but when we arrived the suspects opened fire. In total, three people were killed, including one of the gunmen.”

      Caleb could tell by the way the sheriff’s expression turned to pain that the other two deaths had hurt. In a small town like Carpenter, he’d probably known the victims personally. Something Caleb was in no way used to. When he was a cop in Portland, he’d dealt with mostly strangers. Their indiscretions hadn’t affected him outside of his having to deal with them as his job.

      The sheriff seemed to collect himself. He pointed to the newspaper again.

      “The trial takes place next week and it’s going to draw a lot of attention,” he continued. “I’m adding you as backup, along with the current court deputy, Stanley King.”

      “Wait, so I’m not even lead court deputy?” Caleb had to interject. It was bad enough he’d lost his reputation and his position in Portland. Never mind he had to be transferred to keep from being completely jobless. But now he was expected to go to the bottom of the totem pole to not even being on the totem pole?

      Sheriff Reed didn’t bat an eyelid.

      “I’ll be out of town during the beginning of the trial, as well as Chief Deputy Simmons and lead detective Matt Walker, or else I would be over there too. But as it stands, I’m looking to you,” Reed said. “This may not be your dream job, but it’s what you have and you can either complain about it or impress me. After what happened in Portland, any good marks on your résumé will help.”

      Caleb wanted to argue but knew he couldn’t.

      The sheriff seemed to realize he’d made a good point. He grinned. “And, hey, look on the bright side. Air-conditioning!”

      * * *

      ALYSSA WAS ANGRY. She was nervous too, but mostly angry.

      Standing outside the county courthouse, she was dressed in her best and ready to finally testify against what locals had dubbed the “Storm Chasers.”

      After the gunfire died down a year ago, she’d thought the terror was over. She’d focused on moving past that day and trying for a happier existence because of it. But then the nightmares had started. In them she’d seen the dark eyes of Dupree Slater, the taller gunman, hungry for violence, peering down at her. No regard for life. Especially not hers. Thinking of him and his only living partner left, Anna Kim, she still felt a flood of fear beating against her mental dam of calm. That dam didn’t always hold, despite the fact that both Dupree and Anna had been in custody for a year, but today she needed it to keep its place.

      She shook her head, trying to physically get rid of the way Dupree’s dark eyes seemed to try to eat her whole.

      But then, just as quickly, thinking of him led to the image of his partner, a man named Kevin Bates, lying dead on the floor a few feet from her. Farther away one of the bank tellers, Larissa Colt, and a local patron, Carl Redford, lying in their own pools of blood. Gunned down before the deputies could save them. They’d all been so afraid. The fear lingered to this day.

      And just like that, Alyssa’s familiar fear was replaced with anger.

      Alyssa hadn’t known Larissa well and she hadn’t met Carl officially, but she knew that they had been good people. Their deaths had been senseless and cruel. Both had rocked the community.

      Alyssa took a deep breath and righted the purse on her shoulder. She was here for them, for herself and for Carpenter as a whole. Justice needed to be had. And it was now or never.

      She walked through the double doors into the courthouse, knowing she was early but ready to get it over with. Her mind was tearing through a hundred different thoughts, trying to find a happy one to stave off her growing anxiety. So much so that she lost focus on what was right in front of her.

      “Hey,”