Page 43 of In Cold Blood
“Thorne.” He made a gesture with a wave of the hand. “This is Owen Parish from State Police. You’re being assigned to assist him with Luke’s case. Show him around. Give him whatever he needs. Well, you know the drill.”
Oh, they knew the drill, well enough. Hendrix had told her what it was like. State would blow in and out of the office like tumbleweeds and act like they ran the joint. Okay, maybe not all of them but he’d encountered his fair share of ego-driven jerks with a chip on their shoulder. The Sheriff’s Office worked with multiple departments as and when needed, though the degree of involvement and cooperation varied based on the incident. Sometimes State worked side by side with them, other times they assumed sole control of an investigation if it was a police-involved shooting or an in-custody death.
She feigned a smile and gave a nod.
Callie stood up and shook his hand. The shake was sweaty and weak, and he didn’t look her in the eye. Never a good thing. It certainly was different compared to her run-in with Luke’s brother. She’d seen confidence in him.
“Happy to help.”
Roberts waved Parish back into his office and just like that introductions were over.
Behind her, Hendrix chuckled. “Give him whatever he needs.”
“Oh, shut up,” Callie said with a grin as she retook her seat.
“I can see you two warming up to each other this evening. Perhaps over a bottle of Chardonnay?”
“And hell will freeze over.”
Ten minutes later, she had her face buried in work when Hendrix piped up again.
He tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey. Heads up,” he said in a quiet voice.
Callie turned to see Noah Sutherland enter the lobby. He approached the main counter and spoke with Maisie Callaway, the receptionist and mother figure to most of them in the office. Callie caught his eye. She shuffled paperwork and then shifted it below a mound of folders she had to get through that day.
She lifted her eyes every few seconds and strained to hear what he was saying.
He was a fine-looking man, much like Luke. Six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong, chiseled jawline. He had wavy dark hair and piercing green eyes. He carried himself with confidence and authority that commanded respect. Still, there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression that made him approachable. That day he was wearing a tailored suit that hugged his body.
It was strange to see someone who was the spitting image of Luke. She and Luke had been close. Nothing that would have put his marriage in danger but there had been some flirting. But she’d always been the one to put the brakes on and remind him that he had two kids at home and a good wife who loved him. Boredom. That’s what it was. Nothing more. Hours of spending time with each other at work, more than at home, it was to be expected that office relationships would happen.
But unless a deputy was single, they usually ended the same way — in divorce and misery. She couldn’t keep track of those who had divorced their partners in the time she’d been a deputy.
Relationships in the Sheriff’s Office were a revolving door.
Maisie put down the phone and hit the buzzer to let Noah in. As he walked through the office, he glanced her way, smiled,and gave a short nod. Hendrix gave him a casual salute. They watched him like two hawks as he approached the sheriff’s door and knocked.
A moment later Noah closed the door behind him.
“Oh, what I would give to be a fly on the wall in there,” Hendrix said, rolling across to where she was. The two of them stared for a moment.
Their sergeant, Anita Emerson, sidled up behind them with an armful of folders in hand. “Don’t you two have duties to get done?”
Hendrix cleared his throat and grabbed his hat off the desk. “Yeah, was just on my way out.”
Callie returned to thumbing her way through papers, one eye watching the window that gave her a clear shot of the three of them in the office. Roberts noticed and got up and shut the blinds.
Noah didn’t expectto see Parish inside Sheriff Roberts’ office but there he was with a smug grin on his face. If it wasn’t for his respect for Roberts, he might not have shown restraint.
“Noah, great to see you. We were just talking about you,” Roberts said.
“Good things I hope,” he replied, cutting Parish a sideways glance.
“Please, take a seat.” Roberts gestured to the empty chair beside Parish. The room was as he remembered from his youth when his father held office. Except now the wall was adorned with framed photos, awards, and new floating shelving full of law books and folders. It looked more welcoming than his father’s.
Noah gave the chair a gentle tug, pulling back a few inches.It scraped against the floor and Parish shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
He gave a nod. “Parish.”
