Tyler Anne Snell - Small-Town Face-Off

No one in Riker County should have that problem. At least, not if Billy had a say about it.

It had been six months since an influx of Moxy hit the county. In that time, Billy had seen four overdoses and an escalation of violence, two of those incidents ending in murder. For all intents and purposes, Moxy brought out the worst tendencies in people and then energized them. While Riker County, its sheriff’s department and police departments had had their problems with narcotics in the past, the new drug and its ever-elusive supplier had caught them woefully off guard. It was a fact that kept Billy up at night and one that stayed with him as he drove through the town and then cut his engine in the department’s parking lot.

Movement caught his eye, distracting his thoughts, and he realized he was staring at the very man who had called him in. Billy exited the cruiser and leaned against it when the man made no move to go inside the building, arms folded over his chest. Sheriff Rockwell put his cigarette out and stopped in front of him. He looked more world-weary than he had the day before.

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Reed,” the sheriff said, leaving no room for greetings. “We need to find the Moxy supplier and we need to find him now. You understand?”

“Yessir,” Billy said, nodding.

“Until that happens, I want you to work exclusively on trying to catch the bastard.”

“What about Detective Lancaster?” Billy asked. Jamie Lancaster’s main focus had been on finding something on the supplier since the second overdose had been reported.

“Lancaster is crap, and we both know it,” the sheriff said. “His drive left the second we all had to take a pay cut. No, what we need now is someone whose dedication isn’t made by his salary.” The sheriff clapped Billy on the shoulder. “In all of my years, I’ve learned that there’s not much that can stand against a person protecting their own. You love not only this town, but the entire county like it’s family, Billy.”

“I do,” Billy confirmed, already feeling his pride swelling.

The sheriff smiled, briefly, and then went stone cold.

“Then go save your family.”

* * *

TWO MONTHS LATER, Billy was sitting in a bar in Carpenter known as the Eagle. In the time since he’d talked to the sheriff in the parking lot, he’d chased every lead known to the department. He’d worked long, hard hours until, finally, he’d found a name.

Bryan Copeland.

A businessman in his upper fifties with thinning gray hair and an affinity for wearing suits despite the Alabama heat, he was running the entire operation from Kipsy. It was the only city within the Riker County Sheriff’s Department purview, Carpenter being one of three towns. But where he kept the drugs—whether it was through the city or towns—and when he moved them were mysteries. Which was the reason Billy hadn’t had the pleasure of arresting him yet. They couldn’t prove anything, not even after two drug dealers admitted who their boss was. Because, according to the judge and Bryan’s fancy lawyer, there was no hard evidence. So that was why, late on a Thursday night, Billy Reed was seated at the Eagle finishing off his second beer when a woman sat down next to him and cleared her throat.

“Are you Deputy Reed? Billy Reed?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Billy raised his eyebrow. He didn’t recognize the woman. And he would have remembered if he had met her before.

She had long black hair that framed a clear and determined face. Dark eyes that openly searched his expression, trying to figure him out for whatever reason, high cheekbones, pink, pink lips, and an expression that was split between contemplation and caution. All details that created a truly beautiful woman. One who had the deputy’s full attention.

“Yes, that’s me,” he answered. “But I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

The woman, who he had placed just under his own age of thirty-two, pasted on a smile and cut her eyes around them before answering.

“I believe you’re trying to build a case against my father.” Billy immediately went on red alert, ready to field whatever anger or resentment the woman had with him. However, what she said next changed everything. Her dark eyes hardened, resolute. With a voice free of any doubt, she gave Billy exactly what he needed. “And I can help you do just that.”

Chapter One

Three years later, Billy Reed was kicking off his shoes, digging into his DVR and turning on a game he’d been meaning to watch for a month. During the season he hadn’t had time to keep up with teams or scores but he liked the white noise it produced. And, maybe if it was a close enough game, his focus might leave his work long enough to enjoy it.

He popped off the cap of his beer and smiled at the thought.

He’d been the Riker County sheriff for under two years, although he’d lived his entire life within its lines, just as his father had before him. It was one of the reasons Sheriff Rockwell had personally endorsed Billy to take his place when he’d decided it was time to retire.

“You always want what’s best for Riker and I can’t think of a better outlook for a sheriff,” Rockwell had said. “After what you’ve helped do for this place already, I can’t imagine a better fit.”

Billy’s eyes traveled to a framed picture of the former sheriff shaking his hand. The picture had been taken during a press conference that had come at one of the most rewarding moments of Billy’s career as deputy, when drug supplier Bryan Copeland had been locked behind bars for good.

He didn’t know it at the time, but that case would help him become the man he was today—the sheriff who was trying desperately to pretend there was such a thing as a night off. He took a pull on his beer. But as soon as he tried to move his focus to the game on the TV, his phone came to life.

So much for trying.

The caller ID said Suzy. Not a name he’d wanted to see until the next morning. He sighed and answered.

“I just got home, Suzy,” he said.

Suzanne Simmons didn’t attempt to verbally walk carefully around him. Never mind the fact that he was the boss now. He didn’t expect her to, either. She’d been his friend for years.

“That ain’t my problem, Sheriff,” she snapped. “What is my problem is Bernie Lutz’s girlfriend drunk and yelling at my desk.”

Billy put his beer down on the coffee table, already resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of it.

“Say again?”

He’d known Suzy since they were in middle school and knew that the short pause she took before answering was her way of trying to rearrange her thoughts without adding in the emotion. As chief deputy she couldn’t be seen flying off the handle when her anger flared. The sheriff’s right-hand man, or woman in this case, needed to appear more professional than that. Though that hadn’t stopped her from expressing herself within the privacy of his office from time to time.

“Bernie Lutz, you remember him?” she asked. “Short guy with that tattoo of his ex-wife on his right arm?”

Billy nodded to himself, mind already going through old files.

“Yeah, drug dealer until he went the straight and narrow about a year ago.” Billy remembered something else. “He said he found Jesus and started doing community service when he got out of lockup.”

“Well, it looks like he just found a whole lot more than Jesus,” Suzy said. “Jessica, his girlfriend, just ran into the station yelling about finding him dead in a ditch when she went out to their house. She’s asking for our protection now. And, by asking, I mean yelling for it.”

Billy ran his hand down his face, trying to get the facts straight.