“Powerful, too, Connor.Watch your back with that.”
Roy glanced at the SUV."Where are you off to?"
“Making inquiries.”
“About Warren?”
Connor nodded.News always traveled fast in Harlan County.“Yeah.”
Roy’s face sobered.“Damn shame.Remember when we used to have that card night at Tommy’s with him?”
"I do."Connor let the memory come.Warren is laughing too loudly, Roy is accusing everyone of cheating, and Tommy is burning frozen pizzas."Maybe we should have another in his honor."
“Yeah,” Roy said.“That’d be good.”
“You heard anything about him, Roy?”Connor asked.
“Like what?”Roy looked puzzled.
“Someone out to get him.Maybe someone who wanted him dead?”
Roy let out a gruff laugh.“You know Warren.He wasn’t exactly shy at rubbing people the wrong way.But I don’t know who would have hated him enough to do this.”
“Okay.”
Roy moved toward his truck, then paused with one hand on the door.“Hope you catch the son of a bitch.”
Connor watched him climb in.
“So do I,” he said under his breath.
Parkinson Rural Properties occupied a brick office two blocks off Main Street, in a building that had once held a dentist, a tax preparer, and, for six unfortunate months, a shop that sold homemade candles shaped like fruit.
Ray Parkinson had bought it ten years earlier and turned it into something respectable, with cream-painted trim, clean windows, gold lettering on the glass, and a planter by the front door.
Connor parked outside and took a moment before getting out.
Real estate in Harlan County was rarely just real estate.Land meant family.Debt.Pride.Timber rights.Hunting leases.Old promises made with handshakes and old arguments settled with lawyers.Warren Holt had understood all of that and made money from it.
Maybe too much money.Maybe not enough.At one time, he and Warren had been as thick as thieves.But that had turned to bad blood in recent years, and few knew exactly why.
Inside, the office was cool and quiet.A young woman sat behind the reception desk with a headset around her neck and a stack of brochures in front of her.Nelly Parkinson looked up and smiled.
“Well, look who it is.”
Connor removed his hat.“Morning, Nelly.”
“Sheriff Chase in the flesh.”She leaned back in her chair.“Remember when you used to chase us off for lighting fireworks on the playing fields?You lived up to your name.”
“I remember telling you not to aim bottle rockets at the scoreboard.”
“That scoreboard had it coming.”
“I hope you behave yourself these days.”
“I do.Mostly.”Her smile softened.“But I miss being a kid.”
“Get used to it.”
