"Whatcha readin' there, Ben?"
Deputy Ben Healy dropped his newspaper, knocking his coffee cup over in the process. "Damnit, Lucas, " he said, jumping out of his chair before the hot liquid spilled on him. "Do you have to keep sneakin' up on people?"
A broad grin spread across Lucas Buck's face. "Sure do, Benji, boy. The day I can't sneak up on you is the day you'll be ready to wear this." He tapped his finger on the sheriff's star pinned to his vest.
"That day can't come soon enough to suit me," Ben muttered, sopping up the coffee with his newspaper.
Lucas's grin vanished. "What was that, Ben?" he asked, leaning toward the deputy.
"Nothin', Lucas. Not a damn thing." Ben started to wring out the newspaper, then shrugged and tossed it into the wastebasket next to his desk.
"Nothin', huh? You're not gettin' delusions of grandeur, are you?"
"Delusions of what?" Ben looked at Lucas for a long moment, then sighed. "Did you want something, Lucas?"
"When I want something, you'll know it, Ben," Lucas replied. "So what in our fine newspaper had you so captivated that you're ignorin' the citizens of Trinity?"
"Ignore who?" Ben threw his arms wide as if to embrace the empty waiting area in the sheriff's station. "Unless you're seein' ghosts, Lucas, there ain't anyone here."
Lucas grinned and the telephone rang. "Gonna get that, Ben? Could be one of our citizens callin'."
"Floyd! Hey, Floyd!" Ben shouted. "Answer the phone!" Ben picked up his coffee cup and walked over to the coffee machine at the far table, waiting until his back was toward Lucas before allowing a smirk to appear on his face.
A bell tinkled as the door to the station swung open. "You lookin' for me, Sheriff?"
At those ominous words, Ben glanced up. Jerry Davis, an account manager at the Trinity Bank, shuffled up to the counter.
"Sure am, Jerry." The sheriff beckoned the gray haired man to enter. "We've got some things to talk about, Jer, my friend," Lucas said, clapping him on the back.
Ben involuntarily shivered as he watched Lucas lead the older man into his office and shut the door. Jerry had been working at the bank when Ben opened his first savings account as a boy. He was a bland, ordinary man, in Ben's opinion, undeserving of Lucas's attention. The deputy kept his eye on Lucas's door, the ring of the telephone echoing in the background. He wondered what Jerry Davis could possibly have done to be summoned by the sheriff.
"Ben? Ben, somebody's in the Huntley house."
Ben shook his head and frowned at Floyd. "What's that you said?"
"The Huntley house, Ben," Floyd repeated, hanging up the phone at his desk. "Old Mrs. Broomley just called and said a car was parked 'round back and there was a light on the second floor."
Ben swore and set down his coffee cup. Great. Of all the houses for some kids to pick to have a party. Lucas would not be happy, and an unhappy Lucas generally meant a miserable Ben. He adjusted his gun belt and grabbed the car keys from his desk.
"Should I tell the sheriff?" Floyd asked.
"Lord, no." Ben said, jamming his hat on his head. "I'll handle it, Floyd." He strode across the floor of the station, the bell tinkling as he opened the door and disappeared out of sight.
Deputy Ben Healy dropped his newspaper, knocking his coffee cup over in the process. "Damnit, Lucas, " he said, jumping out of his chair before the hot liquid spilled on him. "Do you have to keep sneakin' up on people?"
A broad grin spread across Lucas Buck's face. "Sure do, Benji, boy. The day I can't sneak up on you is the day you'll be ready to wear this." He tapped his finger on the sheriff's star pinned to his vest.
"That day can't come soon enough to suit me," Ben muttered, sopping up the coffee with his newspaper.
Lucas's grin vanished. "What was that, Ben?" he asked, leaning toward the deputy.
"Nothin', Lucas. Not a damn thing." Ben started to wring out the newspaper, then shrugged and tossed it into the wastebasket next to his desk.
"Nothin', huh? You're not gettin' delusions of grandeur, are you?"
"Delusions of what?" Ben looked at Lucas for a long moment, then sighed. "Did you want something, Lucas?"
"When I want something, you'll know it, Ben," Lucas replied. "So what in our fine newspaper had you so captivated that you're ignorin' the citizens of Trinity?"
"Ignore who?" Ben threw his arms wide as if to embrace the empty waiting area in the sheriff's station. "Unless you're seein' ghosts, Lucas, there ain't anyone here."
Lucas grinned and the telephone rang. "Gonna get that, Ben? Could be one of our citizens callin'."
"Floyd! Hey, Floyd!" Ben shouted. "Answer the phone!" Ben picked up his coffee cup and walked over to the coffee machine at the far table, waiting until his back was toward Lucas before allowing a smirk to appear on his face.
A bell tinkled as the door to the station swung open. "You lookin' for me, Sheriff?"
At those ominous words, Ben glanced up. Jerry Davis, an account manager at the Trinity Bank, shuffled up to the counter.
"Sure am, Jerry." The sheriff beckoned the gray haired man to enter. "We've got some things to talk about, Jer, my friend," Lucas said, clapping him on the back.
Ben involuntarily shivered as he watched Lucas lead the older man into his office and shut the door. Jerry had been working at the bank when Ben opened his first savings account as a boy. He was a bland, ordinary man, in Ben's opinion, undeserving of Lucas's attention. The deputy kept his eye on Lucas's door, the ring of the telephone echoing in the background. He wondered what Jerry Davis could possibly have done to be summoned by the sheriff.
"Ben? Ben, somebody's in the Huntley house."
Ben shook his head and frowned at Floyd. "What's that you said?"
"The Huntley house, Ben," Floyd repeated, hanging up the phone at his desk. "Old Mrs. Broomley just called and said a car was parked 'round back and there was a light on the second floor."
Ben swore and set down his coffee cup. Great. Of all the houses for some kids to pick to have a party. Lucas would not be happy, and an unhappy Lucas generally meant a miserable Ben. He adjusted his gun belt and grabbed the car keys from his desk.
"Should I tell the sheriff?" Floyd asked.
"Lord, no." Ben said, jamming his hat on his head. "I'll handle it, Floyd." He strode across the floor of the station, the bell tinkling as he opened the door and disappeared out of sight.