The mayor’s office was off a side corridor so the hustle and bustle of the mundane business transacted in the county clerk’s office up front wouldn’t impinge upon the more weighty matters of running the town. The current mayor was more competent than some Liam had worked with in his years with the sheriff’s department, although he tended to waffle on issues rather than risk offending one of his more influential supporters. What he lacked in spine he made up for in charm, so he’d recently been elected to a second term.
The mayor’s secretary seemed to have stepped away from her desk in the small outer chamber, so Liam knocked on the door to the inner room. A deep voice said, “Come in,” so he did, and was dismayed but not completely surprised to see Clive Matthews standing next to the taller, slimmer form of the town’s mayor. Due to the small size of the town and the surrounding area, the sheriff’s department had been acting as law enforcement for both since budget cuts had done away with the town police chief’s job. Liam reported directly to the mayor, but the country board was technically still in charge of the hiring and firing for the position. He had a feeling Matthews wasn’t there to give him a raise.
“Mr. Mayor, you wanted to see me?” Liam nodded at the board president politely, but focused his attention on the man who had called him.
To his credit, Harvey Anderson didn’t look any happier than Liam felt. He glanced sideways out of the corner of his eyes, clearly hoping the other man would do the talking. When Matthews just crossed his arms over his chest and stood there looking stern and disappointed, Anderson gave a sigh and said, “Liam, we all know you’ve had a tough couple of years, but the board—” Matthews cleared his throat meaningfully. “That is, we all have some serious concerns about how you are doing your job.”
Matthews’s musky cologne wafted across the space between them, making Liam’s breath catch and stutter. The man must bathe in the stuff, he thought, his mind caught by an inconsequential butterfly fluttering of ideas, so it wouldn’t focus on the words coming out of the mayor’s mouth. The air conditioning in here is a lot quieter than ours down at the station. That must be nice.
“I’m doing my best, Harvey,” Liam said in a carefully measured tone, trying not to let his anger percolate to the surface. He was so damned tired of Clive Matthews yanking his chain. “My men are working around the clock, trying to find out who is behind these disappearances. There just aren’t any clues.”
“Or maybe there are, and you’re just not finding them,” Matthews put in sourly. “We’re in the midst of a major crime wave, with children involved, and you’ve accomplished nothing. It can’t go on.”
Liam opened his mouth to argue, to say that the state guys hadn’t found anything either, despite having better equipment and more men, then closed it again as the mayor said, “I’m sorry, Liam, but Clive is right. Maybe you just don’t have what it takes to do this job anymore. The board is giving you until the end of the month to come up with something concrete. If not, we’ll have no choice but to replace you. I’m very, very sorry.”
Fury bubbled over like a pot on a too-hot fire, despite his best intentions. There was no way some damned mealy-mouthed politicians were going to keep him from doing his job. The people of this town needed him—and his job was all he had left.
“I’ve been working around the clock,” he growled. “Nobody wants to find these kids more than I do. The state cops pop their heads in for a few days, then go back to chasing drug dealers and giving out speeding tickets, saying they don’t have enough manpower to spare to stick around. I live and breathe this job twenty-four/seven.
“If you take me off this case, who are you going to give it to? Some guy with no experience who will have to start from scratch? You clearly don’t have the slightest idea how police work is done, or you wouldn’t be wasting my time with this petty crap. Why don’t you just get off my back and let me do my damned job?”
Harvey Anderson’s mouth dropped open and he started to sputter an apology, but Matthews cut him off before he could get more than a few words out.
“It is just this kind of attitude that makes you unsuitable for such a sensitive position,” Matthews said, his chest puffed out like a rooster. “You heard the mayor. You have until the end of the month.”
“The end of the month is only two and a half weeks from now,” Liam said from between clenched teeth.
Matthews smirked. “I guess you’d better get to work, then.” He gestured toward the door, and Liam somehow made it outside without punching Matthews into the next county. That in itself was a minor victory of sorts.
Once outside, he closed the heavy wooden door behind him and took a deep breath. Two and a half weeks. To find the answers that had eluded him for almost five months. Hell.
“Hello, Sheriff,” a warm contralto voice said from the desk next to him. The mayor’s secretary, Lynette, had a daughter who used to babysit for one of the missing children. “Is there any news?”
He closed his eyes for a minute and inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, like the grief counselor had taught them. Then he forced himself to smile at Lynette, despite the churning in his stomach.