The Sheriff’s Favorite Table
Chapter 03 - The Sheriff’s Favorite Table
Sheriff Rourke always sat in the third booth from the door.
Evelyn had kept that booth open for him every Friday for twelve years. She had poured his coffee, remembered his wife’s birthday, and donated pies to every police fundraiser in Bellwether County.
That morning, he did not look at her once.
“Those men threatened this woman,” Arthur said.
Rourke shrugged.
“I heard there was a disagreement over a broken cup.”
Rylan smiled.
Arthur glanced at the security camera above the counter.
“Then reviewing the recording should be simple.”
Evelyn’s face tightened.
“The cameras stopped working last week.”
“They didn’t stop,” Rylan said. “They were removed for maintenance.”
“You cut the wires,” Evelyn replied.
Rourke finally looked at her.
“You should be careful about making accusations you can’t prove.”
The warning in his voice was unmistakable.
Arthur rose slowly, leaning on his damp cane. Pain moved through his left hip, but he refused to show it.
He had survived bankruptcy, a heart attack, and the death of his wife. He would not allow a corrupt sheriff to make him appear fragile in front of men who mistook age for surrender.
“Marcus,” Arthur said, “move the vehicles.”
Rylan’s confidence returned.
Marcus did not argue. He signaled the drivers, and the SUVs shifted to the edge of the parking lot.
Sheriff Rourke relaxed.
Arthur turned toward him.
“You have mistaken cooperation for defeat.”
Rourke stepped close.
“And you’ve mistaken your money for authority.”
“No,” Arthur replied. “I understand exactly what money can buy. That is why I also understand what it cannot.”
He walked toward the door.
Evelyn caught his sleeve.
“Please don’t make this worse.”
Arthur saw the shame in her eyes. She hated herself for being afraid, though fear was the most reasonable thing she could feel.
“I’m not leaving you alone in this,” he said.
“You don’t know these men.”
“I know the man paying them.”
Outside, Marcus opened the rear door of the first SUV.
Before Arthur climbed inside, Rylan followed him into the parking lot.
“Your granddaughter checked into the Pinecrest Motor Lodge last night,” he said under his breath.
Arthur turned.
“Room 214.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Rylan glanced toward the sheriff, who was speaking with the other bikers.
“Because she wasn’t the only one who found something.”
“What did you find?”
Rylan’s expression changed. For one brief second, he looked less like a predator and more like a man who had wandered too far into a trap.
“Grant Bennett doesn’t plan to pay us.”
Arthur waited.
“He plans to bury everything on us,” Rylan continued. “The threats. The land deals. The missing money. When the police come, he’ll be a respectable executive who never met any of us.”
“Then testify.”
Rylan laughed without humor.
“You think Rourke is the only badge he owns?”
Arthur climbed into the SUV.
Marcus closed the door and took the seat opposite him.
“Pinecrest?” Marcus asked.
Arthur nodded.
As the convoy left the diner, Arthur called Sadie again.
Her phone went directly to voicemail.
At the Pinecrest Motor Lodge, Room 214 stood open.
The bed had been stripped.
A lamp lay broken near the wall.
May you like
On the mirror, someone had written five words in red lipstick.
TELL YOUR GRANDFATHER TO RETIRE.
