Chapter Four

Logan

I shuffle through my paperwork, making sure everything is filled out and I haven’t missed any detail. When I’m satisfied, I drop them onto a neat pile on my desk and let out a sigh. Cow tipping. That’s what I’ve been reduced to—writing reports on kids trying to push over sleeping cows. The actual crime is simple trespassing, because I learned from my own teen hijinks that cow tipping is, in fact, an urban legend, and pretty impossible. You’re more likely to get kicked.

I lace my hands behind my head and scan the room. In the dim fluorescent lighting of the sheriff’s department, things look old and yellowed. My dad sits hunched over in his chair, one hand rubbing at the line across his forehead left there by his hat. There is a cup of coffee on the corner of his desk, most likely still full and sitting untouched since this morning. When I was a kid, I used to sit in that chair and spin in circles until I was dizzy. I remember how the cloth and foam seat had conformed to my dad’s body, making it a weird, lumpy shape.

Everyone always assumed I wanted to be like my dad, and I suppose for a long time I did. That’s what led me through the sheriff’s basic training academy and right to this desk. But lately, I’ve been feeling the need to do more, to be more. The whole town has this love for my father that trickled down to me. I inherited his charm and good looks, but these people think I hung the moon. Even the mayor’s wife flirts with me. It would be weird if I wasn’t so amused by it. Still, I feel like my life has been mapped out by everyone else. And maybe I’m not so excited about their map.

I’ve been researching what it takes to become a detective. It would mean that I’d have to leave Crowley—at least for work. Maybe working in a nearby town or something. It would also mean more schooling and working my ass off to prove that I’m more than a sheriff’s kid looking for a free ride. I take so much shit from all the deputies here, and I wonder if there’s any way to prove to them that I am not here to live in my dad’s shadow, and I’m not the troublemaker that I was as a teenager.

My dad leans back in his chair and removes his bifocals, tossing them onto the pile of papers on his desk. Even from here I can see the red indentations on each side of his nose. He catches my gaze from his office and gives me a nod. I nod back, and this is the most communication we have in the office. My orders usually come from Trudy, the dispatcher, and I’m more than okay with that. I mean, I still look up to my dad and respect everything he’s done for this town, but I don’t want his life. I don’t want to be sitting at his desk in thirty years, looking as defeated as he does.

Smith and Nugent walk in the door, laughing and shoving each other around like a couple of kids. My dad clears his throat and the two immediately stop, straightening their uniforms. Dad returns his attention to the paperwork on his desk at the same time the two deputies spot me. I brace myself.

“Look,” says Nugent, “it’s Lil’ Sawyer. Whatcha up to today? More parking tickets?”

“Nah, I bet it’s another Peeping Tom from the Widow Lavelle,” Smith says with a grin. “Been awhile since we heard from her.”

I blow out a breath and rest my hands on the desk. “Even better,” I say. “Trespassing with intent to cow tip.”

The two burst into a fit of laughter, Nugent slapping me on the back. He takes off toward the back of the building while Smith sits across from me. He kicks his feet up on the desk, crossing his ankles.

“But really, kid. How’s it going? Anything exciting in the works?”

“In this town?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Not exactly the job you were hoping for?” he asks. “Look, I know you’re bored, but after ten years on the force, you’ll appreciate the quiet moments.”

“I don’t think so.”

Smith drops his feet and leans closer. “If this ain’t what you want to do, then what are you doing here?”

I shrug. “Still figuring that out,” I admit. I drop my eyes down to my desk then over to my dad. “I’ve actually been looking into detective work,” I say, my voice lowered.

Smith sits up tall and grins. “Well, ain’t that something. You want to be a big time detective? Sure would be a good way to get out from under the sheriff’s thumb.” His eyes slide over to my father and back to me. It is well known that Smith has wanted my dad’s job for years. He has not been quiet about how he thinks he could do so much better.

I nod. “I’m not sure where to start. Not exactly interested in going back to school just yet.”

Smith shrugs. “How about this? I’ve been trying to solve the old Lavelle case for the past few months. Figure it’s a good way to show this town who should be in charge. Old Sheriff will be out and I’ll be in. And you’re going to help me.”

My eyes meet his. “Why would I help you take my father’s job?”

“Because I know about the arrest your father made disappear a couple years ago up in Franklin. We both know you couldn’t get on the force with that on your record. And if it were to somehow reappear, your chance at detective would vanish.” Smith grins and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I want to knock that smug look right off his face. “Not to mention, your father would be in big trouble too.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” he says. Smith drops his voice lower, his gaze pinning me in place. “I don’t want the sheriff to go out like that. Hell, I like the old man. But I do want him out.”

I look over to my dad’s office and watch as he rubs at his temples. We may not see eye to eye on things, but I don’t want his reputation destroyed. And I don’t want to lose my chance at staying in law enforcement. Smith could ruin both of us.

“How can I help?” I ask with a resigned sigh.

“Widow Lavelle. Her husband’s killer was never found. I’ve been going over the case, but Trudy is starting to get suspicious. I need someone else to collect interviews. Talk to the widow and daughter.”

“What?” I ask. My head latches on to that idea and I grimace.

“I’ve seen how the girl looks at you, Sawyer. Use that as an in, kid. Get in with her and you’ll have access to anything you need. And it’s not like hooking up with her would be torture, if you know what I’m saying.”

I cringe at his insinuation. Of course I know what he’s saying. She’s pretty and sweet, and a twinge of guilt twists in my gut at the thought of taking advantage of her. I shake my head. “Use her to investigate her father’s death? That’s an asshole move.”

“How bad do you want this, Sawyer?” Smith asks. “How much are you willing to risk when the truth comes out? The sheriff? Your career?” The office phone rings. He stands and makes his way past me, taking a seat at his desk and picking up the phone.

Can I really do this? I think about the pride my father has in his work and how much this town looks up to him. I think about a life doing any other job and what an arrest record could mean for finding any kind of work. One night of bad decisions could ruin us both. I know that Smith has left me with no option.