Quieter.
The pressure didn’t just follow him in—it settled onto his shoulders like a lead cloak.
Jackson County Sheriff’s Department — Late Morning
Deck paused inside the door and looked around the bullpen like a man stepping back into a language he still understood.
A deputy behind the front desk glanced up.
“Morning, Deck.”
Deck tipped his chin.
“Mornin’, lads. Try not t’arrest the wrong fella today, aye?”
A chuckle moved through the room.
Eleanor walked beside him toward the hallway that led to Burke’s office.
“I’m going to speak to Sara for a minute,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
Deck nodded.
“Aye, lass. Take yer time.”
She turned down the corridor toward the patrol offices.
Deck continued toward Burke’s door and pushed it open without knocking.
Inside, Burke sat behind his desk. Scout leaned against a filing cabinet. Reid Calloway stood near the window, finishing a conversation.
All three men looked up.
Deck rested one shoulder against the doorframe.
“Mornin’, lads.”
Burke leaned back slightly.
“Deck.”
Scout nodded once.
Reid’s mouth curved.
“Mr. O’Rourke.”
Deck snorted.
“Ah now, lad. I think we’re well past the ‘mister’ stage, don’t ye?”
Reid chuckled.
“Fair enough. Deck.”
Deck stepped into the room but didn’t sit. Instead, he folded his arms and studied them a moment.
“Before the lass comes in,” he said, “we’re goin’ t’have ourselves a wee understanding.”
