Garvey's: The Return (The Garvey Series 2)

            Deputy Nick Dalton carried the case file into the sheriff's office. “Here you go, sir,” Nick said. 

            “Thanks, Dalton,” the sheriff said and took the folder. “Have a seat, Dalton.”

            He couldn’t imagine what the sheriff wanted to talk about. He had finished his reports yesterday and turned them in already. Nick sat down in the chair across from the sheriff’s desk.

            “Dalton, normally I wouldn’t complain about a hard working man, but you have worked twelve-hour days, six days a week for almost a year now. Surely, you don’t need the money. Your brother’s estate was settled three months ago,” the sheriff said. He knew that because Nick had taken a day off to go to the hearing.

            Nick remained quiet. He had to come up with another excuse. His brother’s estate was worth $1,500,000, so he couldn’t say he still needed the money. Nick figured out what to say and it wasn’t a lie. “I like my job.”

The sheriff got up and walked to his office door and closed it. “I know you like your job and you do it well, but don’t bullshit me.” His dark brown hair was neatly combed.

Ugh. I don’t want to talk about this, Nick thought.

The sheriff sat down on the edge of his desk. “Dalton, I see you more than just a deputy. I think of you as a friend. All you boys have supported and put up with me for the past year. I would like to return the favor.”

“Sir -”

“Let me finish, deputy. This needs to be said and I’m the only one around here that can say it to you,” he said and took a breath. “Dalton, you haven’t been the same since David and Danielle died.”

            “You mean killed,” Nick mumbled.

            The sheriff looked down.

            Nick’s little brother, David, and his wife, Danielle, were murdered in their home by the former sheriff and his flunkies a little over a year ago.

            “Dalton, your soul took a hit that night. I saw it. But, you didn’t die. It’s been over a year.”

            Nick stood. “Sir, I have paperwork -”

            “No you don’t, now sit down,” the sheriff said gently, yet firmly.

            He slowly sat back down.

            “If you can’t start living your life again for yourself, do it for David and Danielle. They wouldn’t want you walking around like you’re a dead shell.”

            Nick had no choice but to tell his boss the truth. “I am actively looking for him,” he mumbled.

            “What?”

            “I’m still looking for the man at large, Ghost, a.k.a Peter Francis Beauford. Between my regular duties, I follow leads. I make inquiries about people who fit his description. Carter got Marty. Williamson got Paul. I want Ghost.”

            The sheriff looked shocked. He shook his head. “Dalton, I . . . all right. I understand how you feel, but you can’t look for him twenty-four hours a day, especially when the trail has gone cold. It’s been . . . thirteen – fourteen months.”

            Marty Schaffer, the former sheriff, Paul Ernstein, a former deputy, and an ex-con named Ghost had cut Danielle’s throat and gutted David like a fish. Marty and Paul had been killed during a hostage situation by Deputy Carter and Deputy Williamson. Ghost had escaped.

            “Now, I see,” the sheriff mumbled. “You’re using department resources to find him, which is fine. He is a fugitive. And I’m not going to discourage you from doing what you feel is right to get justice for your family. But, damn it, man, you need to take a break. You keep going the way you have been it’s going to send you to the loony bin.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “No, you’re not. You’re tense almost all the time. You rarely smile. You used to be a fun guy.”

            Nick blew out. “You want me to take some time off, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to force that on you. What I am going to do is put you on eight to ten-hour shifts starting next week. No more overtime unless we’re short staffed.”

            “Is that it?”

            “One more thing, find a way to release some of that tension.”

            “I work out.”

            The sheriff rolled his eyes. “I have to spell it out for you, don’t I? Take yourself a woman, Dalton.”

            Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “Sir?”

            “You heard me. I’m not telling you to get married tomorrow. Just get your dick wet.”

            “Oh god,” Nick groaned. “Must we talk about my sex life?”

            “Not really because you don’t have one from what I’ve seen.”

            Nick ran his fingers over the side of his brown hair.

            There was a knock at the door.

            “Yeah,” the sheriff said.

            Deputy Carter opened the door. Deputy Goldman stood behind him.

            “Are we interrupting?” Carter asked. He was the smallest and youngest deputy in the department. He had sun blond hair and pale blue eyes.

            “No,” Nick interjected.

            “We wanted to see if Dalton wanted to come with us to get a drink,” Carter said. “You’re about to get off, right?”

            “Yes, he is. As of matter of fact, he’s off now. Thirty minutes early isn’t going to kill you, Dalton. And you’re going to get a drink with them,” the sheriff said.

            Nick was about to say something, but the sheriff cut him off.

            “That’s an order, deputy,” the sheriff said and cocked up one brown eyebrow.

            “Okay, Dalton, you heard him,” Goldman said. “We’ll wait for you to change out of uniform.”