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Chapter Nine

Sheriff Matthews didn’t arrive until the early hours of the morning and was appalled at Carey’s condition. “That settles it, we’re now looking at more than just vandalism and discharging a firearm. This is at least assault, if not attempted murder. That gives me more than enough reason to call in a team and help bring this guy in.”

“The sooner, the better, Sheriff. Just let me know what we can do,” Carey began, trying to sit up. Amy put a hand on Carey’s chest to stop him as the sheriff rose up out of his chair to do the same, coming to stand in front of Carey with his hands planted on his gun belt.

“You’re not going anywhere, Carey. Your father would kill me if I let any harm come to you, if he doesn’t skin me alive for the way you look already. If I’d caught that son of a bitch, Mack, the first night he showed up causing trouble, you wouldn’t be laying here practically turned inside out.”

“Do you have any idea what brought this on, Sheriff? Why does Mack have it in for the Carsons?” Amy asked. Sheriff Matthews and Carey exchanged a silent look, but Carey’s face remained unchanged. It must be all right to fill her in then.

“Well, ma’am, Mack runs a less than savory establishment over in Hale. I can’t tell you how many bar fights my deputies and I have busted up in there, and there’s been talk for a long time that he was running drugs through that place, but we could never pin it on him. We even started to think he was trafficking through there for a cartel south of the border. But this particular riot he’s causing seems to be about two of his ‘waitresses’, who went missing last week. Again, I never could pin anything on him because I didn’t have any complaining witnesses and because the girls both checked out as being over eighteen, but we think he was prostituting them from his bar. That’s the local rumor, anyway.”

“And you’re sure their ID checks out?” she asked. “It’d be a whole lot easier to shut him down on suspicion if you had any reason to believe they presented fake IDs. The alcoholic beverage board would be your inroads, not the alleged prostitution. If they were using fake IDs, ones that the owner might have even made for them, then he has under-aged girls serving alcohol. That’ll shut down his bar and cost him his liquor license right there.” Matthews took the hint, his eyes lighting up at this new angle of investigating the bar owner.

“You know, now that you mention it, they do look awfully young. I think we’d better have a deputy do some background checks into his two employees. Where’d you say you were from, Miss…?”

“Amy McDade,” she answered, sticking out her hand for a handshake. “I’m with the Detroit Police Department, I just came down here for two weeks with the ‘city slickers’ who join the Carson Hill cattle drive. But I ended up offering to help Carey drive back here when he heard there was some trouble.”

The sheriff took her hand in his and greeted her warmly. “It’s nice to have you in our part of the country, I just wish it was for sightseeing instead of holing up inside this house. If it’s all right with you, Ms. McDade, how would you feel about volunteering for the Williams County Sheriff’s Department while you’re here? We’re spread out so far over this entire region that we can’t possibly have enough people, especially not with something like this going on.”

“I’m happy to help, as long as I won’t be in the way,” Amy agreed, her eyes lighting up in a way that they hadn’t in ages. The thought of getting back out in the fray was alluring, especially when a small part of her brain reminded her it was only temporary. It’s not like agreeing to go back out on my regular street patrol. This is just helping out, she told herself eagerly. The sheriff said they were undermanned, this is practically my civic duty.

“Not at all, just let me go make a couple of calls and check out your status with your home jurisdiction, then it’ll be official. I’ll feel better leaving someone out here that’s authorized as part of our unit, at least during the day. Given how this coward likes to sneak around, though, we’ll make sure to double up after dark. Do you have your firearm on you?” he asked, his eyes moving over her briefly as he looked for a telltale bulge of a holster.

Amy reached in the hem of her jeans for the second time since arriving at Carson Hill and retrieved her handgun, passing it to the sheriff handle first, after checking the safety. He took it, tossed it lightly in his hand to feel its heft, and nodded approvingly. He returned it to her, promising to gather a few larger pieces of artillery to leave with both Amy and Carey.

Matthews went outside to check the perimeter of the immediate property for any signs of where Mack may have headed, leaving Amy and Carey in the living room. “Well, well, ‘Deputy’ McDade…I like it,” Carey teased before looking up at her shyly. “It’s kind of…hot.”

“How is ‘Deputy McDade’ hotter than ‘Officer McDade’? I’ve been Officer McDade the whole time you had your tongue in my mouth, and it didn’t seem to turn you on as much.” She crossed her arms and gave him an icy stare, pretending to be insulted at her demotion.

“In my defense, you neglected to mention the part about being a cop for most of the time that said tongue was enjoying ravaging said mouth,” he answered, looking smug. “In fact, I only found out about the cop part when you managed to get yourself pulled over for speeding.”

“True, I’ll own up to that,” she casually replied, coming over to where Carey rested on the couch and stepping one foot over his legs, straddling him as she leaned over him. “But now, somehow, I’m ‘hot’ because I wear a uniform and carry a gun?”

“Nope.” She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously, staring him down as he answered. “You were already hot. The uniform just makes you scorching.”

“You know, I’ve just been made a deputy in this county. I can put you in handcuffs,” Amy said with a growl in her voice.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” Carey shot back, a wide-eyed expression on his face as he took her face in his hands and kissed her, mumbling something about having been a bad boy as their lips met. “But you didn’t tell me the charge, Deputy McDade. Don’t you have to tell me what I’ve done wrong?”

“You’re guilty of wearing too many clothes, but tell me if I hurt you,” she answered, taking her mouth from his as she nibbled her way down his neck, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He responded by grabbing her hips and pressing her against him, shrugging out of his shirt and being careful of his bandaged arm as Amy finished unbuttoning it.

Carey ran his fingertips under the hem of Amy’s t-shirt, rubbing light circles against the overly warm skin of her back before sliding it upward, lifting her shirt off as she pulled her arms through. He took in the sight of her, her skin glistening in the faint glow of light that came from under the kitchen door. He ran his hands over the pink lace of her bra, watching her face as he took her perfect round breasts in his hands.

He let his hands move along the slope of her ribs and around to her back, about to reach for the clasp on her bra when a noise outside the door made them freeze. They looked first at each other and then at the door, before Amy pulled her gun and held it in one hand, deftly working her way back into the t-shirt Carey held out to her with her other hand.

She smoothed the fabric down on the front of her shirt just as Sheriff Matthews re-entered the house. He froze when he saw the gun in her hand, and looked somewhat confused that Carey was now shirtless, looking to each of them for an explanation.

“Sheriff,” Carey began. “I’m sorry, we thought you left.”

“Apparently,” the grizzled, grey-haired lawman said with a knowing, amused look. “No, I was just checking the area outside the house for any sign of Mack but I didn’t find anything. I don’t think he’s coming back around tonight, his little firebomb was probably all he had prepared. After all, if he thought everyone was asleep when he threw it, he probably assumed the rug would catch and send the whole house up in flames before anyone woke up enough to stop it. I bet we won’t hear from him any more today, but I’d also bet you a good sized pile of money that he’s probably hiding out and plotting his next move.” The elderly sheriff walked to the door, his old injury causing him to limp in a more pronounced way than before. He turned and smiled with one hand on the doorknob. “Come lock up after me, and you two have a good day now, you hear?”

After he left and Amy turned the deadbolt, she returned to the couch to find Carey covering his face with his hands. “That was almost as bad as being walked in on by your parents…only instead, it was the cops! Why do I feel like a fifteen-year-old kid who was caught with his hand down someone’s shirt in the movie theater?”

Amy couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, covering her own embarrassment at the same time. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. We’re adults, not kids. And besides, we weren’t really doing anything that embarrassing. It’s not like he walked in right as you were throwing me down naked on the…” Her face froze, her last word hanging in mid-air. A horrified expression replaced her happy one.

“What? Amy, what is it?” Carey demanded, gripping both her wrists in his large hands.

“…the rug,” she finished slowly, concentrating on her words. “Carey, is the sheriff a good friend of your family’s? The kind of friend who would come out here a lot, stay for dinner, that kind of thing?”

Carey’s confusion was hard to hide. “Not really. I mean, we’ve known him forever, but he has a lot of ground to cover and it’s a pretty good trek to his office, practically across the county. We really only see him when we go into town. But what are you talking about? What’s wrong with the rug?”

“Carey, he knew about the rug,” she said, whispering as though Matthews was listening outside. “He knew that the bomb was supposed to land on the rug.” She pointed with her hand to where the rug had been only an hour ago. “But we rolled it up and took it to the kitchen right after we put out the fire. It was already gone when he got here, so how did he know that Mack would try to catch the rug on fire? All Matthews was able to see was a gleaming wood floor, he wouldn’t have known there used to be a rug here.”

“I don’t want to believe what I think you’re saying,” Carey said in a hushed tone, looking at the floor as though he could will it not to be true.

“The sheriff is in on it,” Amy said quietly, visibly shrinking toward the safety of Carey’s embrace. “That’s how he knew where Mack intended to throw it. It’s also the reason he hasn’t been able to find Mack yet. It’s because he doesn’t want to.”