Taylor handed the file to Casey, uncertainty now clear in every line of her body, and there was silence throughout the room for a moment as Casey scanned the documents. Then he said, “What’s all this about an FBI investigation?”
Taylor stared at him, then turned to Jackson, then back to Casey. “Into corruption? Former Sheriff Morgan?”
“I’m the ranking FBI officer in this region, and I’m unaware of any public information about such an investigation.” He glanced around the room at his agents with dramatic flair. “Has anyone released any information about a corruption investigation involving former Sheriff Morgan?” After the barest pause he handed the file back to Taylor and said, “You should check your sources.”
Hockley sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows at Jericho before whispering, “Turns out the FBI wasn’t too happy to learn that someone had been talking to outsiders about work they wanted to keep confidential. They have no interest in seeing a disruption to the local constabulary in the middle of their crisis.”
That was when Montgomery spoke up. “DEA’s been in Mosely for over a year, and we’ve seen no evidence of corruption from Kayla Morgan.”
Good that it had been Montgomery, not Hockley, Jericho mused. Then he felt the light touch on his ribs and straightened up. His turn? “I’ve been sorting through old files since I got here,” he announced, hoping he was playing his part right. Had everyone else been prepped for this? Why hadn’t he been prepped? “No signs of anything suspicious having to do with Sheriff Morgan.” He paused, then added, “And for what it’s worth? I came back here to work with Kayla—I came back because she asked me to. If she’s not on the job, neither am I.”
A mountain shifted somewhere on the stairs, and Garron came into view. “If the sheriff goes, I go,” he rumbled, crossing to the middle of the room and finding a spot to stand behind Kayla, his massive bulk making everything seem unmovable and unchangeable.
There was something theatrical at work, and maybe Jericho had been a bit too quick to disavow his gay stereotypes earlier, because he loved this scene. He started walking at the same time the other deputies did the same. Meeks, back at work for the first day since the shooting. Watson, taking a break from writing up his endless string of traffic tickets. Every piece of beige polyester in the room was in motion, all of them coming to stand quietly behind Kayla.
And she looked touched enough that Jericho felt that this last bit, at least, hadn’t been staged. She must have set up the support from the federal agencies; she’d been politically savvy enough to get elected in the first place, after all. And she’d certainly have known she could count on Jericho to speak up; when had he ever been able to keep his mouth shut? But the deputies had surely been a wild card.
Now, with her team assembled, she calmly told the visitors, “You can keep working on the petition if you think it’s the best way to serve the people of Mosely. But you can’t waste any more of my time with it. Do it or don’t do it, but don’t bring it into my station again.” And with that she turned her back on them. “We’ve got work to do, people!” she called to the rest of the room. “Sorry for the distraction, but don’t let it throw you off.”
Casey nodded his impatient agreement. He’d done what he had to in order to maintain the organization that supported his work, and that was all. Fair enough.
Montgomery was cool enough to turn away as well, although he was hiding a smile. Garron probably hadn’t smiled since before Jericho was born, so he just stood there, grumpy and menacing, as the band of citizens exchanged glances and then meekly headed toward the stairs. Jackson followed them, his face stormy but his mouth mercifully shut. The other deputies were grinning ear to ear, and Jericho felt a surge of affection for them. They were kids, but they were good kids.
“That was fun,” he told Hockley. “But it might have been nice if I’d had some idea what the hell was going on.”
“Would it have been?” Hockley asked. “You generally seem to prefer spontaneity over planning.”
“I prefer that everyone be spontaneous,” Jericho replied. “But if there has to be a plan, I want to be in on it!”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” But Hockley’s attention was on Kayla. When she glanced in his direction he lifted his coffee mug in a little congratulatory toast, and Kayla grinned back at him, and Jericho’s stomach twisted with—jealousy? Really?
Of the relationship, he realized. The openness. They were being subtle enough for a professional environment, but they were on the same side, sharing a victory. Kay’s victory, but it wasn’t a loss for Hockley, so he could celebrate with her. Would there ever be a situation where Jericho and Wade could do the same thing?
“I need to quit my job,” he told Hockley, who frowned at him.
“Not until this shit with the recall is over. You threatening to quit if they fire Kayla isn’t going to do much good if you already have quit.”
“But if I’d already quit, at least they wouldn’t think they’d be able to talk me into stepping up.”
“And that would just make Jackson even more rabid to get Kayla out, if he knew you weren’t around to fill in.” Hockley shook his head and spoke with authority he absolutely didn’t have. “No. You need to give her time to get things under control.”
Jericho raised his eyebrows, sipped his coffee, then said, “I’m thinking about becoming a master criminal. The two careers aren’t ethically compatible.”
“You? A master criminal?” Hockley shifted around so both he and Jericho were looking out at the bustling office, their backs against the coffee counter. “Nope. Wouldn’t work. You’d be busted inside of a week.”
“What? Who’s going to bust me? You? Give me a break.”
“Jesus, Jericho, do you actually think you have it in you to be remotely subtle or crafty? You do okay as a cop because you’ve got power and legitimacy on your side, so when you bumble into something you can generally bluff or shoot your way out. But as a criminal? Hell no. Just because we haven’t busted Granger doesn’t mean we wouldn’t bust you.” Hockley half turned to face Jericho. “It’s entirely possible you’d do something clumsy enough that we’d be able to get at Granger through you.” He paused for another moment, then nodded. “I think you’re right. I think you should quit your job and become a criminal.”
“What about sticking around and helping Kay out?”
“Kay’s a big girl—she can take care of herself. You need to do what’s right for you. Life is too short to let it pass you by.”
Jericho frowned. “I wouldn’t be that easy to catch.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t. We’d be helpless in the face of your villainy.”
“It’s not like I’m stupid.”
