“Come upstairs,” she ordered, and he followed obediently behind her. He wished there were some feds around to see how professional he was being. And then as soon as he hit the top of the stairs, his wish came true and he couldn’t remember why he’d wanted it.
“Mr. Crewe,” Special Agent Hockley said. He made Jericho’s name sound like a disease.
“Under-sheriff Crewe,” Kayla corrected with a smooth smile. She turned to Jericho. “You remember Special Agents Hockley and Montgomery?”
Too well. They’d tried to strong-arm Jericho away from their case in the past, and from the looks on their faces they weren’t any more enthusiastic about his presence now. He’d had a few optimistic moments while investigating department corruption, hoping he’d find something that would incriminate these two, but they seemed to be clean. Which didn’t mean he had to like them.
But Jericho had arranged a leave from his job, moved halfway across the country, taken a pay cut, and returned to a town from which he’d barely escaped intact the first time around, all because Kayla needed someone on her side. Putting up with a couple of overentitled feds was nothing. So Jericho smiled, not widely enough to appear insincere, and nodded toward them. “Yeah, hi. Welcome back to Mosely.” And then, just because he couldn’t help himself: “You guys here for business or pleasure?”
Hockley frowned at him, then turned to Kayla. “As I said earlier, we’ll have to discuss information-sharing protocols. I accept that we could have been more open the last time we were here; possibly that would have helped us catch on to some issues sooner. But—” he looked doubtfully, pointedly at Jericho “—there will have to be limits.”
Be conciliatory, asshole, Jericho reminded himself. Still smiling, he spoke to Kayla, not either fed. “You’re the boss. I’ve got lots to do just sorting through all the corruption stuff.” He looked apologetically at Hockley. “Oh, sorry, is that a touchy subject for you?”
So much for conciliation. It was too sweet to see Hockley and Montgomery glare. But he moved on quickly. “I’ve been working with some good contacts at the DEA in Denver—Shelly Walton and Timothy Parsons— Oh, Shelly’s the special agentin charge. . .” He frowned at Hockley. “I guess that’d make her your boss, huh? And she’s given me full access to all her records about what’s going on in Mosely. So if there’s something I need, I can just get it from her instead of you. Too bad to waste her time, but, after all—there have to be limits.” He turned his attention back toward Kayla. “Work for you?”
“For now,” she agreed. There was a light in her eyes that might have been a warning, but he preferred to interpret it as amusement. She glanced at Hockley and Montgomery, then turned back to Jericho. “Mind if we borrow your phone for a minute?”
He raised his eyebrow. “Kay, that’s a private phone. I’ve already shared the message with you, so I can’t think of why you’d need to see it again. And if you’re planning to show it to the feds—well, I’m not feeling particularly inclined to share with them right now. You know?”
“This is the sort of cooperation we can expect?” Hockley growled at Kayla. “We have to get subpoenas and search warrants for a member of your own department?”
“I’m still having some trust issues,” Jericho said firmly. “After all, the last time I was involved with federal agents . . . well, let’s not bring up painful memories. Although the bullet hole in my shoulder isn’t exactly a memory yet, considering I just had my final physiotherapy appointment a couple days ago. But, yeah, I think it might be nice if there was a clear paper trail to show exactly what you all had access to and when. And you’ve got to admit—subpoenas and search warrants are agoodpaper trail.”
“Jay,” Kayla said quietly but firmly. “Give me your phone, please.”
He could refuse, of course. Itwashis private property. If he did, though, it would make her look weak, like she didn’t have control of her own people. And if he gave it to her after making a fuss about it, she would look strong andhe’dlook weak.Damn it.But it was Kayla, so he pulled the phone out and even went so far as to type in the password and call up the appropriate screen before handing it over. She was his bossandhis friend.
“Thanks,” she said, and held the phone up so the feds could see the screen. When Montgomery stretched to take it, she pulled it back. “It’s a short message. You can just read it.”
“We’d like to review the context,” Hockley said.
Jericho snorted. “I was the first on the scene and called the owner of the building to get information about who might be inside. He texted that back. That’s all the context there is.”
Hockley’s smile was almost pitying. “I think everyone knows that’s not quiteallthe context between yourself and Mr. Granger.”
Jericho reached out for the phone, and Kayla handed it to him without further comment. “Are we done here?” he asked her.
She made a face. “Hopefully. But, we’re tight for space again, with the new arrivals . . .”
Tight for space, and Jericho was using the building’s only conference room as somewhere to spread out his files. “I could work from home,” he volunteered quickly. “It’s not a big place, but there’s a dining room table I’m not using.” He grinned at her. “I wouldn’t need to wear the beige if I was at home, right?”
“I’d prefer to keep you in the building,” she said.
“The security of the documents is important,” Hockley added. “Especially in this case.”
“The security of the documents is a local matter,” Kayla corrected him. “Not something you need to worry about.” She stepped a little closer to the agent and lowered her voice. “And, Agent Hockley? We aredonewith you maligning the integrity of my under-sheriff. If you have any evidence of corruption or improper behavior, you can bring it to my attention. But if all you’ve got are sneers and innuendos? I don’t want to hear them. Not to my face, and not in my building. Is that understood?”
Agent Hockley was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “It is.” He turned to Montgomery. “We should get back to work.”
They walked away, Kayla and Jericho watching silently until they were out of earshot. Then Jericho said, “Sorry. I guess. I mean, possibly I could have been more conciliatory.”
“They could have too.” She shook her head tiredly. “My life would be a lot easier if everyone would just get along.”
“Ifeveryonegot along, you’d be out of a job. No conflict means no cops, right?”
“I could still do traffic stops.”
“Those aren’t much fun.”
That was when one of the deputies found them and said, “Jericho, there you are. Nikki called. She wants you to call her back as soon as you can.”
“She say why?” It was unlikely that his father’s widow was calling to thank him for all his help.
“Said Elijah got loose and she thinks he might be heading your way. Is Elijah her dog?”
“No,” Jericho sighed. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. “He’s her six-year-old son.” Jericho’s half brother. He turned to Kayla. “He probably hasn’t gone far—last time he was up a tree just a couple blocks away. But I should go deal with it.”
“Yeah, you should. Maybe we can tag that kid with a transmitter, like they do with endangered animals.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, but it would help solve future problems, not the current one. So Jericho jogged back down the stairs he’d just come up, phone out and dialing Nikki as he moved. Getting into fights with feds and tracking down errant children: somehow, this had become his life. He glanced down at his uniform and shook his head. Yeah, it was his life, and he was living it in beige and brown.
