The sheriff hammered the computer keyboard at one of his deputy’s desks, a vein pulsing at his temple. Dillon slouched on a straight backed chair, Carter on one side of him, Rod on the other. The man looked nearly comatose with bruised eyes staring out of a pale face. A second row of chairs occupied by local men faced them. He gritted his teeth as the decibel level of the bitch fest rose. Eyes flashing, Harley leaped to his feet and let out a piercing whistle. “Enough!” Silence followed his outburst. In the corner, the coffee maker gurgled and sputtered. A cell phone trilled the theme song from Bonanza in someone’s pocket, breaking the tension. “Look, I know you’re all pissed to be pulled away from work, but this is important. Two women have been killed. Two others are missing. The investigation takes precedence over your personal and professional lives, so drop the complaints. I can’t hear myself think through all the whining.” Carter sat up straighter in his chair, his brows lowering in a scowl.
