Page 3 of Pay Dirt

Chapter 2

I sat idly in an interrogation room. The sheriff’s department knew me well. Not that I got in trouble a lot, but sometimes trouble found me when I was working on my cases. They knew what I was capable of, especially the sheriff. Finding Mrs. Sheriff’s diamond ring had kept me in the man’s good graces.

FBI Special Agent Campbell passed me off to one of the local detectives thatI’d known for years.

Detective Jimbo Jones was a big man and intimidating on the outside but nothing but a teddy bear, all squishy and filled with fluff on the inside. He had a heart of gold and a demeanor that could scare sharks. I felt safe and untouchable.

Jimbo had led me into an interrogation room and had now returned with a first aid kit and latex gloves on his hands.

“What did you do?” he whispered as he dabbed rubbing alcohol on my face, making me wince.

“I served the News Channel 6 weather guy with divorce papers and got attackedin the process.”

“He’s got a rap sheet of domestic abuse a mile long, but his wife always drops the charges.” Jimbo sighed. “Why did the feds bring you in, if it was an assault case?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

He glanced back at the two-way mirror before leaning in and putting a bandage on my cut cheek, making me hiss through clenched teeth.

His voice was low and gravelly. “They haven’t told us anything yet, but the sheriff knows you’re here.”

“Thanks, Jimbo.” I rested my hand on his. “I texted Gwen before they took my phone away.”

His eyes widened. Hearing my sister’s name had that effect. She was like a category 5 hurricane when provoked, pissed and destroying everything in her way. “Gwen is coming here?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but the feds think I have an accomplice to a crime I didn’t commit.”

The door opened again. Sheriff Tom Harrington walked in, his assessing gaze held mine as he cataloged the bruises and marks on my body. When it landed on my ripped dress, his jaw clenched. “You okay, Cassie?”

I nodded. “I was just serving divorce papers, Sheriff.”

“Did the news reporter rough you up?”

“She was handling herself just fine,” Agent Campbell said as he entered behind Sheriff Harrington.

“So, you saw it?” Harrington asked.

“We were watching the whole thing on the closed-circuit surveillance cameras.”

Harrington turned his full gaze on Campbell, pegging him with his scrutiny. Feds might outrank local jurisdiction, but Harrington had a way of putting men in their place. Especially ones he didn’t like. We had that in common. “Someone assaulted an innocent woman and almost shot her and you didn’t do a damn thing?”

“Actually,” I interjected, “the other FBI guy hurtled over the bar and tackled Bill Tanner before he could kill me.”

Frowning, Harrington turned back to me. “It’s not like you to miss something as important as a weapon.”

“I know, right?” I said with widened eyes.

“Sheriff, do you mind?” Campbell asked.

“Right,” he said. “Cassie Bennett, these men are from the FBI. Special Agents Ron Campbell and Nathan Murray. They need to ask you some questions.”

I rubbed at my wrist. “Does the FBI put all of their witnesses in handcuffs?”

“Only the ones involved in our case.”

“Cassie Bennett is a skip tracer, among other things. We’ve contractedout to her to help in investigations, so whatever you believe she did, there’s probably more to the story than you realize.”

Nathan Murray was a man to be reckoned with. He towered over me. Both men watched me as they sat down. But Murray’s gaze had a way of caressing me, making my heart race in a guilty way.

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