Read Online Helmet Head by Mike Baron - Free Book Online

here?”
    “I don’t think they knew this was a drug run.”
    Fagan found her proximity extremely disturbing. She wore some delicate animal scent, small high breasts tapering into a slim waist. He shifted around to hide his erection. He hadn’t had a woman in months, not since before the incident. He sucked it in until she finished taping then stood half turning away.
    “Is there a shower back there I can use?”
    “Sure. Through the door on the left.”
    Fagan moved stiffly to take a cold shower.
    ***

CHAPTER 14
The Applicant
    The interview took place on March 13. Fagan arrived at the Bullard County Courthouse, which also housed the sheriff’s department, at nine-thirty sharp wearing a new suit from Men’s Warehouse, bright and eager as any young FBI hopeful. He wore a tiny American flag in his lapel.
    He waited in the antiseptic-smelling reception room for twenty minutes. The magazine selection included Law Enforcement Weekly , a Farm & Fleet catalog, and a six-month old issue of Entertainment Weekly with Johnny Depp on the cover. Depp was made up to resemble Betsy Ross in a new movie about the American revolution. Fagan didn’t know it was Johnny Depp until he read the fine print.
    The sheriff opened his office door from behind the divide and leaned out. “Fagan?” he boomed.
    Fagan stood. “Yes sir.”
    “Come on in.”
    The middle-aged receptionist buzzed him through the gate and he followed Fullerton into the office, which looked out on the back parking lot. Fullerton was six-four, handlebar mustache, wore a Stetson and affected a good ol’ boy style. His .44 revolver lay in its leather holster on a sideboard.
    “Have a seat,” he said, sitting behind his gunmetal desk and picking up Fagan’s resume and file. He looked and he looked. He used silence as an interrogation technique.
    Fagan waited patiently.
    “You ride a bike?”
    “Yes sir, all my life. Right now I have a Yamaha 1100.”
    Fullerton resumed his perusal.
    “Says here you and the Duke County Sheriffs’ Department agreed to part ways. Doesn’t way why. You want to fill me in on that?”
    Fagan stifled a sigh. “It was political.”
    “Ahuh. I called Sheriff Gruber and he told me he was not at liberty to discuss it. We’re a small department, Pete. It only works if we all work together. You’ll be off on your own most of the time but I need someone who knows how to be a team player.”
    “Sir, I think my military record speaks to that.”
    “So it does and I appreciate your service to our country. Thing is, I’m wondering why a guy with your experience would even consider working for a Podunk outfit like ours for the magnificent sum of $48,000 a year.”
    Fagan smiled and spread his hands. “I love the open road. I love to ride. I love all the twisty turny little farm roads you’ve got down here.”
    Fullerton peered at him squint-eyed for awhile. “I get the feeling there’s something you ain’t tellin’ me. That’s all right. We all got secrets. Fact is we need a man who’s independent, who can talk to country folk, someone who understands that the produce has to get to market on time. Someone who knows the difference between a star high school athlete who’s maybe had a little too much to drink, and some no-account trash looking to get high and steal some citizen’s wheels.
    “I guess you know we got a meth problem. Some of these kids break into abandoned structures and use ’em for meth labs. Sad to say, there are quite a few abandoned structures in Bullard County. These past ten years ain’t been kind to us. Some folks are growin’ marijuana. I know Zeke Elkins is doing it but damned if I can find the grow. Some folks are buyin’ cigarettes off Injun reservations and running them up here to beat the tax. We get a lot scammers through here every time there’s a tornado, offering to fix roofs, houses, etc, taking old folks’ money. My rural dep has got to get to know these people and understand them.”
    “Sir,