Annie Logan looked worried.
Since her husband, the Sheriff, came back from the Miller’s property, where he had found not only the couple killed and the woman raped in the most brutal way, but also his young Deputy Brad Spencer dead, he seemed to have aged by ten years.
“Bill” she said, “you have to let the Marshall handle the chase after the killer. You need some rest”.
Bill Logan just looked at his wife, but his thoughts were far away.
“I should never have let Brad go alone. He was too young and inexperienced”.
“Bill” Annie said again “it’s not your fault. He was young and ambitious. Remember when you were a young detective”.
He sighed heavily. “Yes, I remember”. He was always in the forefront of going after the perpetrators until the day a drug bust went bad, got his partner killed and he himself landed up in hospital badly shot up. It had been touch and go for him. It took six months in hospital to get him on his feet again. But he had survived, Brad did not.
When he was released from hospital, the captain assigned him to desk duty and Bill was grateful for that, he had no appetite for all the violent street action anymore.
Bill Logan had lost all his ambitions, first while lying bleeding in the street and then during recovery from what could have been the end of him, so when the position as Sheriff in the quiet little town of Arrowhead opened up and was offered to him he gladly accepted. That was nearly two decades ago and he was Sheriff here ever since, unopposed and with the blessing of the town.
He was happy here and content to deal with small time crime and criminals, without having to face the dangers big city crime brings and was satisfied to stay in this post until his retirement without making any waves.
Until now!
“This murdering swine will not get away with what he did in my town” he said “if it’s the last thing I’ll do on earth”.
It was at that moment that the door to the office was flung open and John Bailey stomped in accompanied by his two Deputies Mason and Butler.
Annie swallowed the sharp reply to her husband’s words she had on her tongue.
‘There will be time later to talk some sense into him’ she thought, something she did not even believe herself.
“Sheriff” John Bailey growled “we have roadblocks all over and the area is tightly sown up, he won’t get away”.
“We need all the available law enforcement in the area on full alert. What are you going to do about a new Deputy?”
His word still hung in the air, when the door crashed open again and a tall man stormed in bringing with him a gust of wind and rain.
Jake Spencer was in his early thirties, slim, but muscular with broad shoulders. His head was topped by an unruly mop of hair, the color of which could only be described as a very premature silver-grey. His appearance looked dishevelled and unshaven.
“Sheriff” he said with a catch in his voice “is it true about my brother Brad, is he dead?”
Bill Logan swallowed once “I am so sorry Jake” he said softly “I should have called you sooner, but I still don’t quite believe it myself”.
“So where is that mother-fucker of a killer” Jake demanded “I want a word with him”.
“He got away in your brother’s vehicle” John Bailey said “but we will chase him down. All the roads are blocked and the Sheriffs in the surrounding counties have been kept abreast of the latest development”.
“Not good enough” Jake growled “I want in. I want to catch the bastard and tear him limb from limb”.
Sheriff Logan looked at Jake, whose normally pleasant face was now a grimace of anger, his dark-grey eyes holding a murderous expression and the muscles of his jaw were knotted so tightly, it seemed they would break through the skin at any moment.
He asserted himself “I don’t want to hear talk like this” he said “there will be no vigilante stuff going on, not on my watch”.
Jake glared at him “So what are you doing to get him behind bars? Waiting for him to walk in here and surrender?”
“Now look here” the Marshall interrupted “this is official business….”
“Hold on” Bill Logan cut in “Jake you are an ex-Marine and a sniper ain’t you? So if you can hold your horses and control your anger, I’ll swear you in as my temporary Deputy, ok?”
Jake looked at the Sheriff for a moment and put out his hand “you have yourself a deal Sheriff”.
John Bailey gave them both a worried look while Mason and Butler shook their heads.
The Marshall’s mobile rang “Yes” he barked into it “what’s the latest?” He listened, exploded with a string of explicit curses and said “Ok, I will inform Portland” when he had calmed down.
He turned towards Bill Logan to explain “your Deputy’s Jeep was found next to the Highway, crashed in a ditch, a couple of miles before the county border. No sign of Cotter. The general consensus is that he high-jacked another car and either took a hostage or killed the driver outright. He most likely is on his way to Portland and out of your jurisdiction as we speak.”
“What if he headed out on foot and is still holed up in the woods?”
“That seems unlikely. Let’s see what we can come up with in the morning”.
“Listen John, nobody knows this woods and trails here like I do, so any search conducted I have to lead.”’
John sighed “It’s in our hands now Bill. Get a good night’s rest, we’ll talk tomorrow”.
“Ok, let’s head out” John Bailey addressed his Deputies Butler and Mason, turning his head again towards Sheriff Logan “just stay put Bill, there is nothing you can do right now, we’ll keep you informed”.
The three men picked up their dripping wet slickers and headed out into the dark and the relentless rain.
“So you let those Marshall clowns side line you and run the show on their own” Jake snorted, throwing a look of contempt in the Sheriffs direction.
Bill Logan scrutinized the younger man. ‘Can’t really blame him to be so frustrated’ he mused, ‘usually Jake is steady and thinks before he acts, not like Brad who was always too impulsive, too quick to get into the action. Must have something to do with Jake’s training and experience as a Marine, I can trust him not to go off half-cocked once he has calmed down a little’.
Aloud he demanded “did I not tell you to hold your horses? Tonight we plan and tomorrow we act”.