David pushed open the door of Sammy’s Pub, the only true bar in Miller County. As sheriff, he only went in there to break up a fight or to find a patron who had failed to show up for court, but he wasn’t on duty. He came only in search of a stool and a drink.
Roxanne had left, the last of the FBI agents to pack up her gear and move on to their next case. David had gone home to his apartment, but it felt empty and unwelcoming. He had called to chat with his kids, but his ex-wife said they were out and wouldn’t be back until late. Needing to do something, he decided to go to his office and catch up on the paperwork that had piled up, but when he stood over his desk, he didn’t have the heart. All he could see in his mind was a row of photos of little boys who would never grow up.
He locked his gun and badge in the desk and drove to the pub. Sammy stood behind the bar and watched him settle in, a slightly surprised look on his normally stoic face. With a shrug, he tossed a towel over his shoulder and took David’s drink order. Seconds later, a shot of whiskey and a frosted mug of beer were placed on the counter. David lifted the shot glass and was studying the dark liquid inside when a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts.
“Last person I expected to see in here.”
David turned as Harold Lathan settled onto the stool beside him. “I could say the same for you.”
Sammy set a club soda with a lime twist down in front of Harold. He picked up the drink and nodded at the bartender. “Oh, it’s the one bar a recovering alcoholic like me can feel quite comfortable in. Sammy would never, ever, serve me any alcohol, no matter how much I begged. If I’m gonna fall off the wagon, I’m gonna have to do it in the next county.”
The bartender leaned back against the mirrors behind him, arms crossed as he surveyed the crowd. David tossed back the shot of whiskey, felt it burn down his throat, and chased it with a swallow of ice-cold beer.
“You know, Sheriff,” Harold said as he swirled his drink with a plastic straw, “you’re not going to find any answers in there. Trust me. I know. I spent half my life searching the bottom of a glass.”
“Not looking for answers. Just saying goodbye to my career.”
“Oh? Not running for reelection this fall?”
David snickered and traced his finger through the ice sliding down the side of the beer glass. “Even if I ran, I wouldn’t win. The biggest criminal in Miller County history operated with impunity while I looked the other way. The voters won’t forget that.”
The answer was as frosty as the beer mug. “Since I was the one you were looking at while he was getting away with his garbage, I can see where some people might be disappointed.”
“Touché.” David raised the glass toward Harold in a mock toast then drained it. “You may not believe this, but I’m truly sorry about that. I blew it.”
David motioned for refills. After Sammy set the drinks down, Harold asked, “Curious, Sheriff, how many registered sex offenders are there in Miller County?”
“One hundred eighty-two.”
“You don’t need to look that up.”
“Nope. I know it.”
“And how many of them did you talk to when Jaxon disappeared?”
“Not all of them because some of the offenses had nothing to do with little boys.”
“But all of them that did.”
“Yeah.”
Harold sipped his club soda. “And was Matt McGregor on that list?”
“No. Should have been, but no.”
“But you went and talked to him anyway?”
“Yeah.”
Harold set his drink down on the bar. “Here’s the thing, Sheriff. I’ve learned a lot over the years. One of those things is that my boy, Connor, is a pretty smart kid.”
“He is.”
“And he convinced his mother to take an orphan under her wing. Not just any orphan, but the son of the man who killed her son. That’s some serious compassion.”
David ran his finger along the rim of the refilled whiskey glass, already thinking of how good it was going to feel going inside him. “It’s the only real hope that kid has.”
“He doesn’t get that compassion from me. That’s all his mom. It’s the same compassion she shows me, despite all the ways I’ve failed her over the years.”
“People can change. She knows you’re one of them.”
“I’m not sure the sheriff I knew a few weeks ago would’ve been able to understand that.”
David ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “No, I don’t think I could have. This whole mess has been humbling. I’ve got my own mistakes to atone for.”
“Exactly.” Harold stopped stirring his drink and set the straw on the counter. He picked up the glass and stared at it. “That’s why you’ve earned my vote for the first time ever.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’ve done my time. I can vote again.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Harold laughed. “I’ve always said what we need in Miller County is a sheriff who has both compassion and toughness. In my life, I’ve certainly needed both. You’ve always had the toughness, and as much as you might think I hate you, I actually admire that part. I deserved to be arrested and punished.” He sipped his drink. “But the compassion? That was lacking. You always seemed too worried about playing to the law-and-order crowd’s votes. But now, I think maybe this whole mess might just make you a better sheriff for it.”
David shrugged. “Even if you’re right, that law-and-order crowd outvotes everyone here in Miller County.”
Harold stood and threw some cash on the bar. “Maybe so. But you’ll never know unless you run. I’m thinking some of that law-and-order crowd has their own issues to deal with. In the privacy of the voting booth, they might give you a chance.”
David listened to the bar door squeak open and closed behind him. He stared at the drinks on the bar, running his hand over them. To have another drink or not. To run for reelection or not.
Odds were good that he would lose the election. He deserved to. But he used to love law enforcement because it meant seeking out the truth, protecting the innocent, and punishing the guilty. Maybe he needed to get back to seeking truth and stop worrying so much about votes.
“You’re right, Harold,” he mumbled. “I’ll never know unless I run.”
He pushed back the stool, opened his wallet, and threw money in front of the full glasses. Sammy, arms still crossed, nodded as the sheriff walked out the door.