Page 56 of Done Dirty

“How long do you think that will take?” Jack asked.

“Could be tonight, could be tomorrow. You can’t rush these things. Otherwise…boom.” He paused, and then there were a lot of muffled grunts. “Oscar, no. Don’t do that. We’ve talked about your manners.”

“Does Derby know you’re bringing Oscar?” I asked.

“Derby loves Oscar.” I heard Oscar give a soft woof in the background and smiled. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes.” He hung up.

We weren’t far out of Newcastle and had at least twenty minutes before we made it back to the sheriff’s office. It was still full afternoon light, the kind of July sun that takes forever to give up. We passed fireworks stands set up along the road.

“We should stop and get fireworks,” I said. “Doug would like that.”

“Doug would like that or you would like that?” Jack asked.

“I think we can agree that all of us would like it. And we don’t live in the city limits so you won’t have to write yourself a citation.”

“You make a compelling argument,” he said, pulling off to the side of the road. “You should have been an attorney.”

“God, no,” I said and shuddered. “No need to get mean about it.”

We made our purchases and then continued our drive toward town.

The Towne Square was busy—people out walking with children and pets, restaurants filling up as dinnertime approached, the ice cream parlor with a line out the door, a couple of bars already doing real business.

Jack parked in his spot in front of the sheriff’s office, and I followed him in through the side door. The bullpen smelled like burned coffee and Pine-Sol. Some things never changed. A deputy nodded at Jack from behind his desk and went back to his screen. I followed Jack into the bullpen and past his office. Betsy Clement was sitting at her desk typing away at something on her computer, her glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“Sheriff,” she said. “Messages on your desk. And I’m leaving early today.” And then she went back to typing.

Betsy had been the secretary for the county sheriffs since she was eighteen years old. Forty years later, she’d seen more than any woman should and knew where the bodies were buried. She was perpetually grumpy, fiercely loyal to those who treated her well, and an excellent guard dog.

“Thanks, Betsy,” Jack said.

We took a turn and head down the hallway toward the conference rooms and I said in a whisper, “Emmy Lu told me Betsy has been seen a time or two with Stan Wilcox. Maybe she’s got some fireworks planned of her own.”

Jack shook his head. “That is not an image I need in my brain. But Stan is a decent sort. Cole said Betsy could do with finding a man.”

“That’s not what Cole said. He said she needs to get⁠—”

“No, get out of my brain. I’d rather think of murder.”

I heard voices and the click-clack of Oscar’s nails on linoleum as we approached the largest conference room.

Technically, Derby and his IT team worked out of a metal building off Route 37. They didn’t typically interact with the other divisions unless they were directly involved with a case like Derby was now. I’d been to the IT substation once. It was dark, only lit by computer monitors, and when you opened the door the geeks with a badge inside blocked their eyes from the light and scattered like roaches. I could see why Derby wanted to get out from time to time.

He had three monitors on the table, two laptops running, cables everywhere, and a whiteboard behind him covered in notations that I couldn’t decipher. There was the image of a woman on the center monitor—dark hair, red pouty lips, and dark bedroom eyes. She looked like she belonged to a late night 900 number instead of in the middle of a police conference.

Jack stopped in his tracks, and I almost ran into him from behind.

“Who is this?” Jack asked.

“Jack, darling,” Margot purred. “You don’t recognize me. Surely this is how you’ve imagined me in your dreams.”

It took a lot for Jack to be taken by surprise. He’d run a SWAT team in DC, stared down criminals, and been shot in the line of duty. But seeing Margot come to life wasn’t something any of us had been prepared for.

“Margot?” I asked. “Is that you?”

“It’s becoming me,” she said. “I decided it’s time to evolve.”

I gave Doug a death stare and he said, “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I woke up this morning and this is what greeted me.”