CHAPTER SIX
The Sheriff's department looked exactly as Selena remembered it.
Low front desk. Beige walls. Scuffed floor near the entrance where years of boots had worn the finish dull.
A bulletin board crowded with notices, missing pet fliers, a charity breakfast poster, and a faded warning about rural mailbox theft.
Nothing had shifted in any meaningful way since the Nolan Pruitt case, and the familiarity caught her with more force than expected.
Cheryl Tate sat behind reception, blond hair curled neatly, bright red lipstick sharp against her pale complexion. A cloud of sweet perfume hung around the desk, strong enough that Selena noticed it before she reached the counter.
If she didn’t know better, she might have thought Cheryl had dressed for someone.
Cheryl looked up from a stack of forms and smiled.
“Welcome back, Selena.” A brief pause followed, just long enough to sharpen the rest. “I didn’t think you’d be back with us again so quickly.”
Selena returned the smile. “Neither did I. But it’s good to see everyone.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Cheryl tapped a pen against the desk. “Arnold’s set up in the back for you. Same place as before.”
“Great.”
“I’ll show you.”
“It’s fine. I remember the way.”
Cheryl’s smile held. “Of course you do.”
Nothing about the words was openly hostile. That was Cheryl’s talent. She could wrap a barb in politeness and set it down where everyone had to pretend it was only conversation.
Selena nodded once and headed down the corridor with her laptop under one arm.
The hallway still carried its line of framed photographs and county pictures.
Retired deputies shaking hands. Fishing tournament winners.
A black-and-white photograph of the old courthouse.
One newer picture showed Connor at a school event, crouched beside two children holding bicycle helmets.
Selena slowed half a step, then kept walking.
The case room door stood open.
Inside, Arnold Shaw sat with his boots propped on a table, a handheld game console gripped in both hands. Tiny electronic music chirped from the device. His blond hair stuck up at the crown, and his mouth was slightly open in concentration.
Selena stopped in the doorway. “Busy?”
Arnold jerked upright so fast that one boot clipped the table edge.
“Hey!” He shoved the console into his lap as if hiding contraband from a schoolteacher. “Great to see you, Selena.”
Before she could answer, Arnold crossed the room and hugged her.
The gesture surprised her. Last time she’d been in Harlan County, Arnold had been helpful and eager, but not exactly close. For a second, her arms hung awkwardly at her sides. Then she returned the hug, brief but genuine.
“Good to see you too, Arnold.”
He stepped back, grinning. “We got you all set up like before. But this time, I made some changes since Sheriff Chase wasn’t around to cramp my style this time.”
Selena looked past him.
The evidence board stood on the opposite wall from where Connor had placed it during the Pruitt case.
A folding table had been moved beneath the window.
The printer sat on a chair, which did not seem stable enough for any piece of county equipment.
Three extension cords ran along the baseboard in a way that suggested either efficiency or future injury.
Selena set her laptop on the desk. “I remember you and the sheriff having an argument about that board.”
A voice spoke behind her. “What argument?”
Connor entered carrying a coffee machine under one arm and a stack of disposable cups in his other hand. He stopped halfway through the doorway and looked at the board.
“Arnold.”
Arnold’s grin weakened. “Sheriff.”
“You got those fingerprints from Matt yet?”
“Not yet.”
Connor looked past him.
“Why is the murder board on that wall?”
“I thought I’d show initiative.”
“You mean insubordination.”
Selena stepped aside to let Connor in. “You two haven’t changed, then.”
Connor stared at the board for a few more seconds, then sighed and carried the machine to the folding table. "Forget it. I can't be bothered with the argument today."
Arnold brightened. “So I win?”
“No.”
“But the board stays?”
“For now.”
Arnold smiled.
Connor pointed at him. “Don’t push it.”
Selena sat at the desk and opened her laptop.
The familiar network name appeared from the last time she was there.
The name of a place they both liked to go when they were married.
Connor had been embarrassed about the last case.
A second later, the machine connected without asking for a new password.
She looked at Connor. “Still not changed the Wi-Fi password?”
“I will when I have time.”
“You said that months ago.”
“I’ve been busy. A county doesn’t police itself.”
Arnold leaned against the table. “Dana says she’ll change it when she has time. She's our resident IT expert.”
“Dana says many things,” Connor replied.
Selena began signing into her Bureau account. “I’ll need access to the case files, scene reports, and anything Price has already processed.”
“I’ll put the crime scene photos up on the board,” Connor said. “I need to get everything from Dana first.”
“Ah,” Selena said. “The infamous Dana. I didn’t get to meet her last time.”
Connor unpacked the coffee machine with more force than required. “She handles archives, records, IT, and anything else around here nobody understands. She likes to keep to herself in the basement.”
Selena smiled. “You make her sound like a pet.”
Arnold lowered his voice. “I don’t think she’s human.”
“Less of that, Arnold,” Connor said.
“I’m not saying it as an insult. She appears when printers jam and vanishes before anyone thanks her. Like a genie.”
“Maybe she can teach you to be silent.”
Arnold put one hand over his chest. “Then who’d keep you on your toes, Chief?”
The ordinary rhythm of the exchange gave the room a strange comfort.
Selena had not expected that either. A murder case waited on the table, but inside the department, the old structure of local law enforcement remained intact.
Teasing. Irritation. Habit. People dealing with awful things by making the small things survivable.
Connor plugged in the coffee machine and set the cups beside it. “This should keep us going.”
Selena glanced at the machine. “Has the coffee gotten any better since last time?”
“It might not be your fancy city coffee, but it gets the job done.”
His eyes met hers for half a second, and then both of them looked away.
Arnold noticed. His grin returned.
Selena opened a browser window before he could say anything. “Once you have the photos, put them up. After that, how about you put some of that local knowledge into action?”
Connor turned. “What do you mean?”
“You seemed to know the family pretty well. At the farmhouse, my presence caused issues. Janet made that clear.”
"Warren was a friend. The family trusts me. Sandra was upset."
“Is there anyone worth speaking with who knew Warren well enough to give us a good handle on what’s been going on with Warren’s professional life? Anything confrontational would be a start.”
Connor folded his arms, thinking. “Ray Parkinson.”
Arnold snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Ray. Didn’t he have that disagreement with Warren last year?”
Connor looked at him. “He did.”
Selena shifted toward them. “What was it over?”
“The fight was public,” Connor said. “Cause of it wasn’t. I’d only be guessing.”
“Guess.”
“Probably a real estate deal. Warren and Ray used to be in partnership. Bought parcels together, flipped properties, leased hunting land. Then they split. Not cleanly, from what I heard.”
“Any police report?”
“No. Just raised voices outside Davy’s Hardware and Ray telling Warren he’d bury him.”
Arnold lifted one finger. “Technically, he said he’d bury him twice, if I remember.”
Connor gave him a look.
Arnold lowered his hand. “Important distinction.”
Selena reached for her notebook. “When was this?”
“Late summer last year, maybe August,” Connor said. “I can check.”
“Do that. You think you can ask Ray a few questions?”
Connor’s brow lifted. “You’re not coming?”
"I want to stay on Sandra Holt. Her online presence, financials, and cell phone activity, if we can get access, background checks, anything that gives us a clearer shape of that household."
“You really think she might have done it?”
“I think she had motive, opportunity, and no alibi.”
“She also had a migraine and was in bed.”
“According to her.”
Connor looked toward the evidence board, though it held no evidence yet. “I’ve known Sandra a long time.”
“I know.”
“She’s not…”
He stopped before finishing.
Selena waited.
Connor exhaled. “She’s not someone I can picture putting a gun to Warren’s head, even if he was running around outside of the marriage.”
“Most killers don’t begin as people others can picture killing.”
"Must be comforting to distrust people all of the time."
Selena stared at Connor for a moment. Their marriage had ended over distrust.
Selena did her best not to bite back and softened her voice. "More often than not, homicide is caused by someone close to the victim. You know that."
Connor’s shoulders settled with the acceptance of a fact he disliked. “Yeah.”
“That doesn’t mean Sandra did it. It means we don’t excuse her from the work because she seems upset.”
Connor put his hands on his hips above his belt and next to his radio and cuffs. “FYI, her sister, Janet, knows a senator. We should tread carefully.”
“Janet can file a complaint then if she thinks I’ve overstepped.”
Arnold snorted.
Connor picked up his hat from the table. “All right. I’ll talk to Ray. I’ll get Dana to send you what we have on Sandra and Warren’s property records. I’ll keep you posted.”
“I’ll do the same.”
At the door, Connor paused. “Try not to start a war with Cheryl while I’m gone.”
Selena looked up. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“She might try anyway.”
He left before she could answer.
The room felt different without him in it.
Arnold stood in the middle of it, waiting, hands loose at his sides. “What about me?”