Greg strolled in, a box of pastries in his hand and wearing a confused expression, just as Colton was emailing his cousin the report.
“What’s going on?” Greg plunked the box on the table, turned the seat across from Colton around, and sat. “Why are we waiting here?”
Greg was a fine deputy, as well as Colton’s best friend, but his tendency to challenge his dad at work got them both in trouble. “Jenkins and that Ulmstead guy filed a complaint. Your dad wants this submitted asap, and we’re supposed to bring five copies.” He turned the screen toward Greg. “And I was told to tell you to keep your trap shut.”
“What is it with that man?” Greg rolled his eyes. “Does he really think I’m going to blurt out something I shouldn’t?”
He said it like it hadn’t happened a hundred times. “If it makes you feel better, I was told to say something only when I got a direct question.”
“Nope. No better.” Greg made a few keystrokes, scanned the screen again, and tapped the enter key. “Let me run off the copiesthe sheriffwants so we can sit here awaiting his summons.”
Colton got how Greg felt, but wished his cousin would be a bit more self-reflective. Uncle Ted treated them as if they were fourteen and not twenty-four because Greg still acted like a teenager around his father. It didn’t matter they carried firearms and Tasers, and had a license to arrest folk. Until Greg grew up a little, his uncle would continue to see them as those idiot boys who’d damn near started a stampede when their Mentos and Diet Coke experiment had sent the bottle into the pasture.
Still, the old man had their backs. That counted for way more than the few times he treated them like kids.
Greg had just made it back when they were called to the big office. Colton’s stomach flipped like a cheese omelet twice on the short walk.
He knocked and opened the side door that led behind Uncle Ted’s desk. Greg went in first, and Colton shut the door behind him.
Ulmstead and Jenkins glared at them when they walked in. Well, really him, and didn’t that light a fire in his happy ass? After what these fuckers tried to do to Zach, they had the balls to file a complaint. These two were dumb enough to drown themselves staring up into a storm.
Greg handed his dad the reports, and he and Colton stood at parade rest to the right of the sheriff.
“Thank you.” Ted set the reports next to a pair of PD-675s - witness complaints. He slowly read the report, carefully turning the pages. When he finished, he grabbed the PD-675s and glanced up.
“You two want to explain again what my deputies did last night?”
“They facilitated the theft of property by one of my employees,” Ulmstead said, the bastard not even able to hold Colton’s gaze. Pansy. “And then they threatened to shoot me, my sons, Maddie Brown, and an associate of mine when we tried to stop them.”
“By an employee, you mean Zachariah Baxter, and the property was the violin he used in performances. Is that correct?”
Ulmstead nodded. “That’s right.”
Ted stared at his desktop for several seconds. The silence worked Colton’s nerves. From their body language, Jenkins and Ulmstead weren’t having a shit-ton of fun either, which suited Colton to the ground.
Ted spun the PD-675s around. “These are the complaints you swore out today. Correct?”
They both nodded. “They are,” Ulmstead said.
The sheriff pulled the papers back and planted his ham hands as he stood at his full height. Towering over the desk, he cast a shadow like goddamn Goliath, the dark covering both assholes who shrank in those uncomfortable goddamn chairs.
“Frank, I’m not sure what mess you got all caught up in, but tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you both for filing a false report?”
“Now hold on, Ted. You’ve got no business calling me a liar. Them two boys of yours have always been trouble.” He glanced at Greg and Colton but immediately looked away. “You protected them for too long. Whatever was going on between Colton and that fiddle player, it disrupted the show. There wasn’t a late show, and people were not happy.”
Ted breathed in and out. Colton was glad it wasn’t him sitting across the desk. “I’m not sure what he’s got on you, but I take exception to your comments. I’ve never treated Colt and Greg any different from anyone else. How many times did Inotlock up your boy over the years? If anything, I’m harder on them than others. Second, you ought to know everyone wears a body camera in my department. Every interaction we have with the public is recorded. Every. Single. One.”
“And third,” he reached down and tapped a key, “Mr. Ulmstead sitting next to you, knows what’s in these reports is a pile of pig turds.”
The recording from Colton's body cam popped up on the screen. It had been cued up to when Colton was waiting for Zach.
They all watched as the events played out. The video had captured Ulmstead and his guest making threats to Colton. At least Frank had the decency to look embarrassed.
“That proves my complaint,’ Ulmstead said when the video ended. “Your nephew helped Zachariah leave with the violin thatwas bought with company money. He’s also illegally withheld all receivables in an account only he has access to.”
“What itprovesis you, your boys, and that unknown suit, threatened my deputy. For that alone, I could have you arrested. Second, I have an email from Beauregard Randolph Lee, Esquire.” Ulmstead flinched when Ted spoke the name. His uncle tapped the keyboard again, and a letter from the attorney flashed on the big screen. “As you know, he’s the administrator of Mr. Baxter senior’s accounts. You can read it for yourself, but the attorney makes it crystal-clear that Jeb Baxter created the bank accounts and left them to his grandson. He also states that Zachariah Baxter is now the legal majority owner of the show. If he took show property, it wasn’t stealing—it belongs to him.” The sheriff glared at the men. “So I’ll ask one more time, why shouldn’t I arrest you for false reports?”
“This is just what I said would happen,” Ulmstead growled. “There’s no justice from a hick town sheriff.”
