16. Harlan
Chapter 16
Harlan
J erry Singer’s combover is behaving today — despite the wind outside of Everette Grocery. The pale yellow, straw-like strands are combed and gelled into submission, whatever glue or sticking substance he uses to keep it in place clearly working despite the gusts of air blowing through the town square — though the blending job with the few remaining hairs at the side of Singer’s temples could use some work.
The ruddy color to his cheeks could also be from the wind, but I’m betting it’s more his infamous temper. Quick to light and quick to die down to mostly grumbling, I’ve dealt with it growing up and working in Everette for as long as I can remember.
Jerry’s owned the local grocery store for years, and even though there’s a larger chain just outside of town, most of the residents of Everette shop here to support his business.
The midday shopping crowd finally died down enough for the two knuckleheads next to me, with their sunken in shoulders and guilty expressions — to take the freshly dried cement of the new parking lot for a spin on their skateboards.
“Tom, Bobby, you see that sign right there?” I point to the newly hung “No Loitering” sign. Under it is a sign stating clearly “No Skateboarding” and under that is a “No Skating” sign.
“Yes, sir,” the two boys chorus. Summer break in Everette is going strong, and this isn’t the first call I’ve had about redirecting the bored energy of Everette’s youth, and it likely won’t be the last until school resumes in September.
“Bunch of hooligans,” Jerry mumbles under his breath. If he had a lawn in front of the store, he’d be yelling at the kids to stay off it. And I get it, he works damn hard on keeping the exterior of the store in shape. But also — they’re kids. There’s not a lot of activities for them to get up to in the middling part of summer when camps are done, but the back-to-school craze hasn’t hit yet.
“We’ve all been hooligans a time or two,” I say affably. Sometimes the dichotomy of being a law enforcement officer for the same town that I ran roughshod through as a kid comes back to bite me in the ass.
“It’s about respect,” Jerry snaps, the vein in his forehead throbbing.
“I’m sure that they understand that. Riding their skateboards on your new parking lot wasn’t malicious. They’re bored.” I turn back to the kids. “But there are signs against it, and as the owner of the store, Jerry’s not wrong being mad here either, you guys.”
“Hmmph.” Jerry glares at the kids.
“Sorry Mr. Singer,” Tom says.
“Yeah. We were just trying to nail our kick flips. We didn’t mean anything by it,” Bobby agrees .
Jerry’s shrewd gaze goes a fraction softer at the boy’s apologies.
“Your trash compactor still broken?” I ask Jerry.
“Yeah. Should be fixed sometime next week if the company can get someone out here.”
Jerry’s trash compactor broke earlier this summer, and he’s had a hell of a time getting it fixed. Most of the time he carts truckloads of boxes that need to be smashed over to the local dump, but it’s not a feasible solution in the long run. And based on the run around that he’s been getting from the company that services the machine, I doubt it’ll be fixed anytime soon.
“Okay. Here’s what I’m gonna do. The boys are gonna come by and break down your boxes and load them into your truck for the dump, Jerry. Two hours a day oughta do it until the end of summer or your compactor gets fixed. Boys, I’ll call your parents and let them know what happened here today and where you’ll be spending some time until school starts back up. Fair enough punishment for the crime?”
The kids mumble their agreement and a sharp nod from Jerry is the best I’m going to get from the taciturn grocer.
“Okay. Now, you boys get home. Jerry, you let me know if they don’t show up or if you have any more trouble okay?”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
The boys scramble away on their skateboards, the wheels bumping over the uneven sidewalk through the square. I start back toward the station. It’s coming up on the end of my day, and most of the shops are getting ready to close. I wave or stop for a quick word with some of the residents out and about.
I dip into Brewed Awakening — Jem’s coffee shop — for my afternoon hit of caffeine. Light instrumental music pipes through the speakers and the scent of coffee and chocolate hang in the air. The exposed copper pipe shelving system over the espresso machine holds ceramic mugs and dishes. The entire back wall is made up of built-in bookshelves full of lightly loved reading material. There are some comfy couches, but most of the seating is custom furniture that Duke made for Jem before she opened the shop. Like the grocery store, the later afternoon crowd is light, and Shelby, the barista on duty, greets me by name.
“Hey, Har, you’re usual?”
“Yeah,” I say. The mornings are reserved for coffee, but the afternoons call for lighter, and Jem created a gummy bear-flavored tea that I can’t seem to pass up.
“Sure thing. That’ll be three forty-six.”
I take a five out of my wallet and pass it over. “Keep the change.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to glance at the notification. Jedd sent something in the group chat, and I take a minute to catch up on the texts from my family for the day.
On impulse, I saved the picture Maisie sent last night of her and Audra. Maybe it makes me creepy, but seeing the small smile on her face while her daughter was sleeping on her made my chest tight, and I wanted the memory of her being safe and happy saved to my own device.
I snag my tea from Shelby and head back to the station. The smell of coffee mixes with the various lunches of my deputies, and I swirl the ice around the plastic to-go cup from the shop as I start back to the bullpen where the majority of my deputies desks are. Johansen has a burger laying on the wax paper from the deli while he stabs at his keyboard.
Good-natured ribbing flies as my team gives each other shit. Most of the overnight deputies are just getting in for the evening.
“Hey, guys. Gather round,” I call once I’m close enough for them to hear me. I have my own stack of paperwork to wrap up before I leave for the evening, and I wanted to swing by Maisie’s to see how they’re doing since I didn’t see them before I left this morning.
“Festival?” Stella asks.
I nod just as Betty comes around the corner, her color of the month — magenta — hair leading the way.
She glares at Johansen’s burger and fries before snarking, “It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable now and again, Benjamin.”
“Aw. Come on, Bett. There are veggies on the burger.”
“Iceberg lettuce doesn’t count. Tomatoes are berries. You’re never going to get your cholesterol down if you keep eating like a college student.”
Betty’s the longest standing employee of Everette and pseudo-mother to the station at large. And though she doesn’t admit to more than sixty years, I’d put money that she’s a decade past that — at least.
“I have all of the major macros here, protein, carbs, and fats.”
Her beaded glass earrings sway as she shakes her head at Johansen and his choice of lunch.
“As riveting as Johansen’s eating habits are...” I wait for the team to turn their focus to me. “The Country Crossroads festival is due to start day after tomorrow and we’re backing up the resort and event security,” I start.
Every summer, anywhere from ten to twenty country bands tour through our resort town. My office backs up the venue security for the rowdy crowds when they drink a little too much or get too much sun and not enough water. The local fire department and volunteer staff are also on standby, and it’s one of the bigger tourist attractions in our area for this time of year.
“Arrhythmic Records’ security is covering the actual concert times — which start at eleven a.m. and go until midnight to finish. You all have the proposed plan they sent over in your emails. We’ll only be called in if we’re needed or if someone gets too rowdy and the event security can’t handle it. We have two DUI checkpoints planned for the main roads leading out of the fairgrounds. Stella, Deke, Johansen, Myers, Bennett, and Sloan, you’re on those. Divide up how you see fit, two man teams. Four on, two off alternating the nights of the event. The rest of you are on call as needed for the next four days. The resort also sent over tickets for us to attend, if you’re off-duty and want to catch one of the shows.”
“Sweet,” Wayne says. “The wife will like that. The festival sold out in less than an hour when the tickets went up.”
I nod. People from all over come to our little neck of the woods to see the latest and greatest country stars.
“We’re keeping our standard shifts, but keep your phones handy in case we need backup there or here at the station. Bett has the non-emergency line covered, and we have a few volunteers coming in to help if it gets to be too much for her.”
“I’ve been handling these phones longer than you’ve been alive, sheriff. I don’t need any help.”
I ignore her grumbling. “Something you never let us forget, Bett, but I’d rather have ’em and not need ’em, than need ’em and not have ’em.”
Her lips purse, but instead of arguing with me further, she quiets .
“Any questions?”
“Not about the festival. What’s going on with Cormac?” Sloan asks. I turn toward the young deputy, barely out of police academy, and I should have seen the questions coming.
Johansen nods. “Yeah. What’s going on with that?”
I scratch a hand through my beard and mentally add a note to trim it up tonight since it’s getting bushy.
“He’s running for sheriff,” I start.
Stella snorts. “No shit. His face is plastered on every corner of town at this point with those dang election signs.”
“He’s within in his right to lobby for support through town,” I say and hold up my hands when mouths drop open to argue.
“I don’t have any inside information on what’s going to happen. His father is part of the town council, and when the reelection came up at the last meeting, his running for office was announced. I haven’t heard anything more than that.”
“It’s bullshit. He hasn’t lived in town in years. He’s a city cop,” Myers says snootily.
“Yeah, and he’s a fucking creep,” Stella says.
“Did something happen that I need to be aware of?” I ask.
Stella shakes her head. She’s not the only female deputy for the town, but she is the most outspoken one. “He’s just being an asshole. Me and Bennett were on a traffic stop earlier when he wanted to ‘have a word.’ Tried to pump us for information on you.”
“The fucker,” Bennett says. Cassie Bennett is quiet and does her job with a smooth efficiency I’ve come to appreciate in the three years she’s worked with me.
“Yeah. And his eyes didn’t move from your chest the entire time you were talking,” Stella says before turning to me. “He’s a fucking creep, boss.”
That motherfucker.
Keeping a tight lid on the surge of anger at him harassing my deputies, I say, “I prefer smarmy asshat myself.”
Chuckles sound from the team. “I can’t arrest him for being a smarmy asshat, and though I’m sorry for it, Cassie, him looking at your chest while talking to you isn’t an arrest-able offense. But I’ll talk to him.”
Stella waves a hand. “No need. I told him off right then and there.”
I expect nothing less from Stella. The fifty-something deputy who completed her degree, the police academy and got a job with the station within three years of her husband lighting from town while I was still in high school doesn’t take shit from anyone.
“While I’m sure your warning and the no doubt colorful language delivered the message, I’m still going to have a word with him. He can’t go around stopping any of you while you’re working, and being a creep deserves a sterner warning than you telling him off.”
Stella nods. “Fair enough. Though I heard that you both had a little tête-à-tête at the diner yesterday.”
Johansen chips in. “Yeah. Something about the brunette accident vic staying at your place.” The statement is a question and now’s as good a time as any to get ahead of the gossip.
“Maisie Williams was in a minor traffic accident last week. There weren’t any available rooms at Holly’s, and the resort is full with the festival. She’s staying at the apartment over my garage while she figures some things out.”
“It true her camper is totaled?” Myers asks.
“And that she has a baby girl about Darius’s age?” Bett tosses in.
Bett’s great grandson is about the same age as Audra if I remember right. I nod to both of them. No sense in trying to lie when the news is going to get out no matter what.
“Yeah. She totaled her camper and has a six-month-old daughter.”
“Poor girl,” Bett says with a sympathy.
“Cormac going to try to use that against you?” Bennet asks.
“What? Maisie staying with me?”
She nods.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Probably likely that he’d use whatever he can get his hands on against me. But I don’t want you guys worrying about that. Let me handle Lewis and the reelection.”
“If that fucker wins, I’m putting in my notice,” Stella says.
Grumbled agreements come from the group of uniforms I’ve been tasked to lead. That I’ve been privileged to lead.
I’m damned if I’m going to give up this position lightly or without a fight.
“Hey, now. None of that. The town council is going to make the best decision for the station — for Everette. If Cormac wins — and that’s a big ‘if’ right now — then I expect you all to handle the transition of my office with the same dedication you’ve shown to the town, it’s residents and this station. Now if that’s all, I know that the majority of you still have outstanding reports that need filing.”
More grumbles sift through the group, but they let the subject drop as they turn back to their own work.
The last thing I need is the council accusing me of turning my deputies against a possible candidate for my job before he even starts — assuming we get that far — even though I’m touched by the support of my deputies.
I start back toward my own office with the intention of finishing up the lingering paperwork that’s overdue and getting home in time for a shower and a cold beer.
Once I’m behind the home of my own desk, I have three reports pulled up on screen and they’re the only remaining tasks standing between me and a cold beer with my dinner.
There’s a brief knock at the door, the cadence of it more familiar than my own shadow.
“Come on in, Bett,” I say.
Bett comes in and shuts the door behind here before plopping down in her chair.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Do you think that Cormac is going to win?” She continues the earlier conversation.
I heave out a sigh, leaning back in my office chair. “Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk with the mayor much over the last few weeks, and my dad hasn’t heard anything either.” My father and the mayor meet once a week for lunch. As the head ranger for the local station, the two of them keep each other updated. I keep the warning Boone gave me about the Lewis family watching me to myself because the last thing I need is the purple-haired elder going on a rampage through town.
“You’re a good sheriff, Harlan. You need to get ahead of this and start lining your pockets with your own ammunition.”
“Bett, the best thing that I can do right now is my job. The same job I’ve been doing for years. By showing the residents of Everette and its leadership that I’m still capable and damned good at my job.”
“I’m just saying. You expect us to respect the town and this station, and we expect you to fight damn hard to keep that seat in this office. We don’t want a new boss, especially one as sleazy as Cormac fucking Lewis. So get to work.” She nods once toward my computer and then saunters out of the office.
Bett’s point hits me right as the door clicks closed. She wouldn’t have told me to find ammunition on my competition if there wasn’t ammunition to be found.
What are you up to, Bett? What do you know?
I can’t turn over my office to someone that isn’t going to uphold the values of the office, or the duty to the town. It’s not in me. Hell giving up my job — my career — something I’ve worked my whole life for to someone else isn’t in me, but here I am.
No. They’re not going to give Cormac my job. I’m a good sheriff. My accomplishments in this office prove that. They’ll see that when the time for the council vote comes.
With the pep talk comes the reminder that Cormac’s own father is on the town council, so he’s not without his own pull. If they’re watching me, then it’s only right that I do what watching I can back.
I’ll be damned if I give up on my town that easily.
On an exhale, I close the reports that aren’t getting finished tonight and open the database for searches and type in Cormac’s name.