Chapter 13

“Good,” Philip says. “Now back to work. I have phone calls to make.” To me: “I’ll see you at home, Christian.”

As we leave the sheriff’s office, I can see uncertainty in the deputy’s eyes. He wipes his clammy palms on his uniform pants, turns to me, and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

I step forward and pull up a chair across from his desk. I sit. I stare over at a crestfallen deputy. I say, softly, “Mark, I don’t know where it went wrong with us. But we used to be good friends.”

He is cagey embarrassed, as he stares around the room to see if any of his colleagues is watching him.

“Do you remember when I first moved to Milestone County?” I ask him.

Mark nods. “With Russ. Yeah, like it was yesterday.”

This is a delicate balancing act. “Do you remember I would interview you for a news story I was working on at the time. I’d get a few quotes for the article. You helped shape some of my stories back then. Do you remember?”

“Yeah.”