Author's Note: Sorry it took so long for this chapter. Come the end of the year I tend to take a long vacation and stay away from the PC. Usually when I get back after the various holidays work starts out slow. Let's just say that didn't happen this year. Between vacation, and a plant upscaling to add in around a dozen more production lines for two major customers, and depression for personal reasons I wasn't as quick with this chapter as I'd hoped. Following chapters may have a bit of space between also, but hopefully not THIS long. Thank you for bearing with me!

Longmire: Frames

Chapter 10…..Reciprocity

Vic tried to calm herself as her hand reached for the ringing phone, tried to still her shaking hand. The last time she'd been this angry and wanted to take it out on someone, a young girl had lost her leg after a hit and run. Walt's chest had taken a beating that day for sure.

As she tried to curb her anger enough to answer the phone her eyes fell back to the pictures staring up at her on the desktop and her rage stoked itself once again, anger induced tears threatening to spill from her eyes, all the background noise of the sheriff's office fading into muffled nonsense.

"Vic?" She barely heard Ruby call her name. "Vic? What's wrong?" Ruby asked stepping closer. Vic didn't notice because she had her eyes squeezed shut trying to erase the image of the pictures. She only snapped to when she heard Ruby gasp, then felt the older woman stroke the back of her head. She looked up to see her secretary staring at the picture, her other hand covering her mouth.

Vic started collecting the pictures trying to stuff them back into the envelope they'd arrived it, but she knew it was too late. "I…." she started, fumbling for words but Ruby shushed her.

"Who the hell would do that? You've both been through enough the last few months." Ruby said her voice just a little shaky.

"I don't know, but when I get my hands on them, I'm gonna be using their nut-sack for keyring fob and a fuckin' coin purse!"

Ruby snorted, trying to hold back laughter. Normally she was appalled at Victoria Moretti's language but this time she approved. She placed her hand on the back of Vic's neck again and tried to regain her professional manner. "Walter is on line two. He doesn't sound happy."

Vic took a deep breath and looked Ruby in the eyes. She took another breath to steady her nerves and said, "I guess it's not a secret anymore?"

Ruby snorted. "It's never been a secret Vic. Now. Are you going to answer the phone? I said Walter doesn't sound happy."

Vic reached for the phone and pushed the blinking light that would connect her to line two.

"Vic? I think we might have a problem. Someone has been snooping around the cabin. Can't be any later than sometime yesterday."

Vic placed her hand on the envelope. "I know…. I have pictures sitting her on my desk of us last night."

"Fuck! Any notes or phone calls?"

"No, not yet."

Vic stared into the distance, just listening to Walt breathe over the phone. "Meet up where Mary got hit. We need somewhere private, that we can't be spied on. I don't think this is over by a longshot!"

She heard Walt inhale. "Yeah, I have a feeling this is just round one."

Walt Longmire pressed the End Call button on his phone, stuck it in his shirt pocket and fumed. He walked back towards the trees. Looking down he saw a broken branch about the length of his arm and at least three inches thick. He examined the bent split ends. It was fairly obvious that it had snapped off during a heavy snow. Suddenly all his rage flared out and he swung the branch at the nearest tree trunk, feeling the shock of impact travel up the short piece of wood and through his hands and arms, stinging his palms. "FUCK!" He swung again, the same pain the same anger the same word. The third time the branch broke. He looked around for another, spied one and picked it up, Swing, pain, rage, "FUCK!". This branch lasted a couple of more times than the last. He let the broken piece of wood fall to the ground, his rage spent. Now he was just cold anger. Whoever had violated them was in for a world of hurt and he was going to take pleasure in handing it out.

He stared for a second at the palms of his still stinging hands, the palms themselves and the pads of his fingers covered in scratches caused by the rough bark of the wood. He no longer noticed the pain or the traces of blood. All he saw was his hands around someone's throat, or his fists pummeling their face to hamburger. He turned around and trudged back to Horse then headed for home.

When he got home all he bothered doing was taking the saddle off and turning the animal loose in his pasture. He climbed into his Bronco and headed out towards the Rez.

Mayor Sawyer Crane leaned back flipping through the pictures he'd received earlier. It was too bad they didn't show more skin. All the good parts were blocked by someone else's body parts or a lens flare. He sat back trying to figure out how to use these pics. Several ideas went though his mind, but the one that kept coming back was control.

He'd never had rein on Walter Longmire, and the idea of his daughter Cady actually becoming the next sheriff bothered him. She was too much like Walt AND her mother. Leverage to get her to drop out of the race? He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Victoria Moretti was an even harder to control. Insubordinate, foul-mouthed, aggressive. Maybe this would curb her wilder side. Or not.

He tried to imagine the look on her face when she got her first glimpse of the pictures. That was all nice and good, but how to play the images. He wished there had been more. They were an attractive couple after all.

Jim Wilkins sat back from his computer. He'd been examining the photos he'd taken. He knew he wasn't that bad of a photographer. Oh, some of the stuff he'd said about how hard it was to get a good picture was true, but some of these pictures were good. But that lens flare bugged the crap out of him. It was coming from a source that was much higher than the camp fire.

He walked over to his bag, pulled out his camera and popped off les cover. Everything appeared clean, no smudges on the lens. He capped both ends of the lens, stuffed it into his bag and set his camera to cleaning mode. Looking at the mirror, he couldn't see any dust or smudges there either. I placed the cover on the body and stuck it back in the bag also.

He walked back to his computer. It didn't make any sense. He stared at the pictures until his eyes started to burn. He raised his hand to rub his eyes and stopped with his fingers splayed in front of his face. He pulled his hand to the side to look at one of the pictures. He looked back over at his hand. Picture… hand. He felt a chill run up his spine. "No fucking way!" No one had been there other than himself, Walt, Vic, and that goddamned owl. Besides, the lines of the flare that looked like fingers were too thin for a human hand. But…

He clicked through a few more pictures. In each, the rays of the flare stayed constant in proportion. Every arrangement he could duplicate with his hand. He shivered and reminded himself that stuff like ghosts and apparitions were nonsense… but…