****
Monday morning, Rawley stepped into the chrome-walled elevator, carrying his Styrofoam cup of black coffee that smelled like heaven to him. He leaned against the cool metal wall while three women in tailored skirt suits stepped in, their perfumes mingling in the confined space as they kept stealing glances at him.
“Are you a police officer?” the tallest one with copper-colored hair asked as she nodded at his polished badge and the Glock holstered at his hip.
“I’m a livestock agent, ma’am,” he replied.
“We work on the fourth floor,” another one with bright red lipstick said, twirling her pearl necklace between manicured fingers.
Rawley nodded as the brushed steel doors slid shut with a soft hiss, then he sipped his scalding coffee while the elevator ascended with a gentle lurch. When it stopped on his floor, heshoved off from the wall, pushed past the women and stepped out onto the gleaming floor.
“You have a wonderful day, Agent. You sure made ours,” the third woman with a beauty mark above her lip said as the others giggled as they stared at him.
He turned to look at them with a half-smile as he touched the brim of his white straw Stetson, then chuckled when they sighed dramatically as the doors slid shut with a mechanical whine.
Shaking his head, Rawley entered the office to see it already a buzz of activity, fluorescent lights humming above the clatter of keyboards and ringing phones. He set his cup down on his cluttered desk, removed his hat, and hung it up, then pulled his chair out. As he was about to sit down, Dave called his name in his gravelly smoker’s voice, and Rawley looked up to see him with his balding head poking out the glass door.
“Come in here, please,” Dave said, then walked around his desk and sat down in his high-backed leather chair with a wheeze.
Rawley sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, then strode across the floor to the office. He didn’t even get a chance to knock before Dave waved him inside. He pushed the glass door open, entered the stuffy room that smelled of old coffee and aftershave, then stood at the desk while Dave shuffled papers.
Finally, he glanced up through wire-rimmed glasses. “Have a seat.”
Rawley sat in one of the leather wingback chairs that creaked under his weight, folded his hands across his stomach and waited, watching dust particles dance in the sunlight streaming through venetian blinds. This is what an agent did when summoned to Dave’s office because the man was never in a hurry to let you know why he called you in there, preferring to let you stew in anticipation.
“Agent Saunders will be here from Autumn Falls tomorrow. We’re going to need some help on this one.” Dave leaned back in his worn leather chair, steepled his fingers beneath his stubbled chin.
“I agree. If it’s as many as Saunders is saying, two won’t be enough.” Rawley shifted in the chair.
“I’ll get you more men. I just have to see who’s doing what first.” Dave’s voice carried the gravel of not enough sleep.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Alright.” Rawley stood, then made his way across the sunlit office to his desk, the morning light streaked across the floor.
He sat down, slid the chair closer to his desk with a screech against the linoleum floor, then looked through the high-resolution photos he’d downloaded, saving the mud-splattered tags from that pickup truck.
As he sat there, leaning back in his chair, he clasped his hands behind his head and watched the computer screen scan through tire treads. He knew one set was a Peterbilt, the distinctive herringbone pattern unmistakable, but another set looked more like big mud tires to him, and he wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed something. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Killian, Beau, and Hud, standing in front of his desk like three fence posts, their shadows stretching across his paperwork. He ignored them.
“What do you think? He’s tired?” Killian said, folding his arms over his chest.
“Maybe hungry?” Beau added, adjusting his Stetson.
“Or horny,” Hud chimed in with a grin.
Rawley looked at them and pointed to each one, answering their questions.
“No. No. Always,” he said, making them laugh.
“Seriously, what’s going on, Rawley?” Killian asked as he leaned against the corner of the desk, his holster creaking with the movement.
“This Mitchell case. It seems the agent in Autumn Falls thinks it’s a bigger operation than just Preston’s cattle. Cases like this have been popping up across the state. They come in with an eighteen-wheeler, load the cattle and disappear into the night like ghosts.”
“Are you going to need help on it?” Killian’s eyes narrowed against the glare from the window.
Rawley nodded, as he felt a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It’s too big for just one or two people. Dave told me that Agent Saunders from Autumn Falls will be here tomorrow, and Agent Jackson in Kalispell is working on it there. They both think it’s the same group.”
