Page 4 of Pay Dirt

He nodded in that official way that told me changing my clothes was still a long time coming before he sat down.

The sheriff stepped back and was about to close the door when I called out, “Tom, I’m sorry.”

“For what, Cassie?” he asked.

“I texted Gwen.”

Sheriff Harrington let out a heavy sigh. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

The door shut behind him. His voice was muffled as he barked orders.

“So, would anyone care to tell me why the Feds were watching me?” I asked.

“We’ll be the ones asking the questions; you’ll be the one giving answers,” Campbell said.

I sat back and winked at whoever was watching behind the two-way glass. If I didn’t know better, my sister was probably already back there, along with her boyfriend, the attorney.

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” I asked.

“You aren’t under arrest,” Murray answered, earning a glare from his compadre.

“Okay, sowhat am I doing here, and why did you haul me into the station in handcuffs?”

“Who were you meeting at the restaurant?”

“A client,” I answered.

“What services are you providing him?” Campbell asked.

“Nothing illegal,” I answered honestly.

“Who were you meeting, and what was the job?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “I’m a tracker, a skip tracer, but I find more than just people. I locate things.”

“Like drugs for criminals?”

I clicked my tongue. “I won’t do anything illegal. My clients know that up front. I do my homework, gentlemen, and even if one were to dupe me into finding something for them that was illegal, I’d turn the contraband into the police. I’ve already proved that before.”

Campbell flipped open a file and read from it.

“Says here you’re like a mind reader or psychic. How exactlydoes that work when people want you to find things?”

“It will be easier just to show you than explain. Give me your ring.” I held out my hand toward Campbell.

“I’d rather you explain,” he answered as he twisted the ring in question on his finger.

“Listen, you wanted answers, and this is me giving you answers.” I shrugged. “You’ll never believe me unless I show you, and I can’t do that if you aren’t willing to play.”

“You’re a fraud,” Campbell said.

“If you say so,” I answered with a smile.

Nathan Murray slipped a ring off his finger and handed it across the table. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the person who gave you that ring,” I answered. Within seconds, a vision popped into my mind. A cemetery with weathered headstones and several dimes buried in the ground. I frowned and glanced down at a woman’s platinum ring. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Explain,” he answered.

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