Ledger shoved his hands in his pockets. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Syder knew Wren. It was a small county, and Wren seemed the type to cross paths with the local deputies one way or another.
“Found him on Grindr,” he lied. “He was the only cock in county lines.”
The crudity made Syder pull a dour face. “You know that’s how people get murdered?”
“Yeah. Bell would have loved it.”
“Don’t know about that. He was never that keen on you being gay,” Syder said. “I had to talk him out of beating the straight into you when you got caught at school with that boy.”
“Thanks,” Ledger said flatly. “That was big of you. Can I go?”
Syder sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. The drag of his palm ironed the wrinkles out and made him look younger. That didn’t endear him to Ledger any.
“You aren’t doing yourself any favors,” he said.
“I tend not to.”
“You’re not the only one that it hung over,” Syder said. “I was a good sheriff—I helped people—but that’s not what anyone will remember me for.”
“Maybe because you weren’t,” Ledger said coldly. “Bell Conroy was no criminal genius. Someone should have caught him before I did.”
Syder’s mouth twitched, and he clenched his jaw so tight that the tendons in his neck stood out. He took a quick, impulsive step forward and grabbed Ledger’s arm, his fingers digging into the muscle.
“You don’t have a fucking clue—” he snapped, his breath hot with mint and old coffee.
Ledger shoved him, both hands flat against Syder’s chest as he pushed him roughly back. Syder stumbled back a step and then caught himself awkwardly.
“Neither did you,” Ledger pointed out. “That was the problem, remember?”
He turned and stalked away. Regrets hit around the second step. It wasn’t as if he’d endeared himself to Syder since he’d gotten back, but there were still better ideas than making an out-and-out enemy of the man. Ledger was just done. He’d just wantedone thing, but like always, it had to end up being about the shitty Conroy legacy.
Ledger hunched his shoulders resentfully and kept going. He was nearly back at the car when he heard a retching cough from behind him. When Ledger turned, he saw Syder doubled in half, his arm folded over his stomach.
“Sheriff?” Ledger stepped forward, then stopped, dry grass crunching underfoot as he remembered the dead thing Earl had scraped off the road. “Are you OK?”
Syder coughed harder, the tendons on his neck rigid, and lifted one hand to wave Ledger away. Then he spat something dark and sticky onto the road. His chest rose and fell in short, ragged pants as he tried to breathe.
“You sure?” Ledger asked.
“‘M fine,” Syder rasped out as he slowly straightened up. “Something… went down the wrong way, that’s all.”
That would have been good enough for Ledger. Before he could take Syder at his word, however, the sheriff had another coughing fit. He jackknifed over at the waist like something had hit him in the stomach as the wet, noisy coughs rattled out of him. Syder got his hand up again to ward Ledger off and tried to drag himself back toward the car. Before he could get there, he staggered over a tuft of dead grass and collapsed. His legs folded awkwardly under him, his uniform pants scuffed with dust, and barely managed to get one arm up to fend off a face-plant into the ground. The coughs rattled out of him.
Ledger grimaced and trotted over. He crouched down and put a clumsy hand on Syder’s shoulder.
“Sheriff,” he said. “Should I call an ambu—”
“No,” Syder squeezed out between coughs. He batted Ledger’s hand off his shoulder and hunched over, his face pressed into his elbow to muffle the hacked noises. “I just need… a minute.”
Ledger waited.
He had just gotten his phone out when Syder’s fit finally started to wind down. Syder shifted position and braced himself on one hand. He looked at Ledger’s phone and then at Ledger.
“I told you no.”
Ledger tucked his phone away again. “If I call an ambulance when you’re alive, you’re the paramedics’ problem,” he said. “If I call when you’re dead, that’s my night down the drain.”
“Fair enough,” Syder said. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, the spit-up on his lips dark and gritty looking. “Help me up.”
