The office was quiet, it was a Tuesday in Absaroka, typical.
Ferg was still trying to track down Malachai, Vic was preoccupied but trying to look busy, Ruby , well, Ruby was just Ruby, busy, efficient and in charge. The main office door opened and Walt's figure filled the door frame as he entered the Sherrif's office. "morning Ruby" he walked past and through the swinging door into the bullpen. He stopped at the coffee maker and glanced Vic's way. She seemed to be reading some paperwork, but nervously spun her Philly hockey puck in her right hand. "Vic?"
His voice seemed to snap her out of her focus on the papers on her desk. "oh, hey" Vic looked a little dishevelled and a little pale this morning, he wasn't sure if he should ask how she was feeling, but he decided to anyways.
"How are you Vic, ….you look…." "I look what?" she snapped back, her tone was something to be afraid of, he didn't think it was worth finishing his thought…
"uh….nothing, what are you working on" "nothing really"
he paused "ok"

Walt poured his cup of coffee, paused to take a sip and decided to just go into his office, Vic followed behind closely, and closed the door behind her.

Walt took off his hat and placed it in its usual position on the top of the coat rack. the coat on the front hook, brushed his hair back into place with his open hand and his hands went to his hips as he looked at Vic leaning against the door with the morning sunlight dancing on her face and hair. She was beautiful, albite a little pale. Martha looked pale and sickly for almost 6 months when she was carrying Cady, she couldn't keep most foods down, and even the most basic smells would make her stomach turn. The other 2 pregnancies that ended in miscarriage were even worse, and after the second, both Martha and Walt resigned themselves to the fact that they couldn't put themselves through that again. Cady was all they had needed, and she was a joy. The thought of Cady this morning, made him realize he had a lot of fence mending to do, he made a mental note to try and call her later, maybe stop by her new office, or ask her out for breakfast tomorrow…

Walt walked over to Vic, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eye. "Are you feeling ok? I'm sorry…. but you are looking a little pale"
"It's nothing, i've just had a hard time sleeping, but I need something to keep my mind off this baby for awhile, so where are we with the mob, Shane Muldoon, do you think they are still a threat to you? the connection with Malachai, and his disappearance?"

Walt let out a sigh, turned and walked over behind his desk "I don't know…it's been pretty quiet, I'm just not sure what they are up to"
Vic looked at Walt, took a few steps towards the window and looked out over the town square. "Ferg hasn't had any luck finding any info on Malachai…since you found Henry." vic turned and looked at Walt, he was now sitting, leaning on his desk, his hands up to his chin. "How is Henry Walt? have you seen him since we found him last week, Cady says he's still in the hospital" Walt and Henry's relationship was in a very bad place, Walt couldn't seem to get past the betrayal, he didn't understand why Henry would take on the persona of Hector, he never in his wildest imagination thought Henry would kill for vengeance. Walt had said a lot of hurtful things to his best friend, Henry didn't want him in the room when Walt tried to see him. Walt thought it was best to just stay away for awhile.

"I haven't been, since….he uh….threw me out" there was a sadness in Walt's eyes.

The door swung open, and Ferg burst into the office, "Walt!"
Walt looked up, "yeah Ferg" "I just got a tip, a guy named," Ferg looked down at his spiral note pad, looking for the name he jotted down " a guy called Jason Newhouse, he says he saw a man matching Malachai's description behind his bar last night, over on 4th street. He was taking out the garbage, saw someone in the alley, he yelled at the guy, and he said…get this…the man turned around , and had a long scar across his right cheek" Ferg looked so proud of himself, holding his spiral notebook.
"uh, ok, well I guess we should take a look down near the bar, whats the name?"
"Jason Newhouse"
"the name of the bar Ferg" Vic weighed in on the conversation from her perch on the far end of the desk "oh, ahhhhh," he scanned his notes "The Raging Bull" Ferg answered

"thats a pretty shady place," Vic turned to look at Walt as he gave her a questioning look, "so I've heard" Vic gave him a cheeky smile

Walt got up from his desk, Ferg had retreated to the bullpen, "you should stay here Vic" "says you, I'm not an invalid Walt. Plus, I need something to freakin do, I'm getting antsy"

Walt grabbed his coat, positioned his hat, and conceded. Walt wasn't sure how, but she could talk him into anything. That could be trouble he thought.
"alright, but Vic….."
"yeah"
"I need you to stay safe, stay out of harms way, don't do anything that could harm the baby…I mean it" Vic gave him a look, one that said she knew what she was doing , but she would also do what he said. He had come to read the looks on her face, the subtle changes in her eyes, and especially the tone in her voice. He wondered when all that happened, how did she become such a good partner, without him even realizing it was happening. It must have been sometime between getting railroaded by Det. Fales and hyper obsessing over Jacob Nighthorse. He had a lot of things to make up for, with a lot of people.

The drive from the office to the seedy bar on 4th street was relatively short, Walt really wasn't sure what he would find, if anything, but he was glad Ferg had at least found this lead. The trail for Malachai was cold, Henry was left tied to the stakes in the ground on the same sacred ground as David Ridges fake funeral pyre, and he had been there for almost 3 days before he was found clinging to life. Walt almost lost his best friend that day, and he hoped that at some point they could at least talk things through and get to a better place, he didn't want to loose 40 years of friendship over the ghost of Hector.

"Lets go see Mr. Newhouse, and then we'll take a look around." Walt put the Bronco in park and turned her off. Vic was up and out of the truck before Walt even had a chance to take off his seat belt. Vic put her aviators on the bridge of her nose but still had to squint at the ultra bright sun that afternoon. The sky was a bright blue, something that was a sight few and far between in Philly, more and more she realized she didn't miss her home town.

Walt took the lead and headed into the bar, the lights were on, not such a good look for the place, the floor was worn, the stools were all mismatched and had been in their fair share of bar fights. Some of the bottles on the back bar were almost empty, but had a layer of dust on them, he guessed they haven't been popular choices in recent times, at least not enough to buy a new bottle to replace them. "Hello?" Walt waited for a response "we're closed!" the reply didn't sound very friendly "Sheriff's department"

There was a slight pause and a short man in his mid-50's poked his head out from the back of the bar neat the restrooms, mop in hand, Jason Newhouse slowly walked up to meet Walt near the front of the bar.
"Hi Sheriff, sorry, I didn't know you were going to come by, I guess your deputy told you I saw your man" Jason seemed a little edgy, but he also looked and smelled like he hadn't showered in a few days.
"Mr Newhouse.."
"oh, just call me Newsy, everyone does" He tried to give a bit of a smile, but like the bar in daylight, smiling was not a good look for "Newsy"
"Newsy….Deputy Ferguson told us you saw a man matching the description of a man under suspicion of attempted murder, are you confident in what you saw?" Without raising his voice or stepping in closer, Walt had a way of being an intimidating figure. Newsy looked a little nervous, but nodded his head yes.
"I'm pretty sure sheriff, he was about 15 feet away, but I saw his face, there is a light back there, the one at the back of the tackle shop. I saw him good"
"And do you know what he was doing, was he lookin for somethin? was he with anyone?" Vic entered the questioning,
"ah, no, he was alone…..I don't know what he was doing really, he was just walking towards the other end of the alley, you know where it comes out by the warehouses"

Walt nodded at Newsy, took another quick scan of the bar , "you notice any new, uh….clients, lately, new faces in the bar?"
the bar keep looked down at his mop, looked at Walt and then Vic, "no, no, I don't think so sheriff" "alright, you mind if we take a look out back?"
Newsy nodded and pointed towards the back with the handle end of the dingy grey mop, Vic and Walt started to move towards the back door. Walt glanced in behind the end of the bar, and into the open door of what looked to be a store room. In a bar that looked like beer and the occasion shot of tequila was the only thing on the menu, there seemed to be an awful lot of cases of Irish Whiskey in the back, far too many to not notice, and not send a twinge down the back of Walt's neck.

Walt put his arm out, to stop Vic from passing him going down the hallway. He gave her a look and nodded towards the open store room door. She looked and instantly knew this may be more hen they bargained for. They both reached for their sidearms, and proceeded with caution down the dimly lit corridor. Walt reached the door and lightly tested the door bar, it opened and unlatched and the bright sun came in the crack and traced a line down the floorboards. Walt slowly opened the door further and held is gun up into position. He stepped out into the mid afternoon light, Vic followed cautiously behind him, unsure exactly of what they may find, or what they actually were looking for back there.

Walt and then Vic stepped into the Alley, cleared and looked at each other. "What the hell is going on here Walt"
Walt scanned the alley again, and looked back at Vic, "I really don't know, but this guy….this bar, this is not just a random sighting of a fugitive…." Walt rubbed his jawline, and thought about what this meant, it wasn't adding up. Malachi abducts Henry, ties him up in the desert to die, presumably for calling him out, banishing him and branding him for life. Then he disappears only to reappear a week later behind a seedy bar, a bar with a stockroom filled with Irish Whiskey.

"It certainly smells like its tied to the Irish mob, we need to be careful we don't walk into a trap. Come on lets go" Walt looked back to make sure they were still alone, and then walked back out and around to the front of the bar, where the Bronco still sat.