pointed a finger at Richard. "This is Dick from D.C. He thinks Dorie's unqualified to assist on his investigation and has requested the sheriff's help instead."
"Is that what all the stomping was about?" Sherry gave Richard an up-and-down look. She didn't seem impressed with what she saw "You disturb my patient, and I'll have your hide, son. I don't care how old you are or where you're from. You understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Richard replied, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into now.
"This way," Joe said and headed off down a corridor. Richard took one last look at the frowning Sherry and followed Joe down the hall.
When they reached the end of the building, Joe knocked on a door, and Richard heard a voice call for them to enter. Joe shot Richard a dirty look that clearly said this was not going to be pleasant and it was all Richard's fault, then pushed the door open.
The man in the wheelchair was in a tiny living room just off the entry. Richard took one look at him and held back a string of curse words. The man was paralyzed. And apparently the two assholes he'd ridden over here with had found that information unnecessary to pass along despite his comment back at the sheriff's office. He barely controlled his anger as he scanned the rest of the room.
Dorie sat in an overstuffed chair, arms crossed in front of her, a resolute expression on her face. A collection of military weapons that would have made a third-world country envious hung on the wall behind her, and a huge alligator head was perched above the fireplace, its glassy eyes seeming to glare at him. The wall next to him contained photo after photo of camouflage-clad men, and in the center hung a single medal. Upon closer inspection, Richard realized he was looking at a Silver Star and turned his attention back to the man in the wheelchair, trying not to show his surprise at finding a war hero in such an unlikely place.
The man, whom Richard now presumed was the sheriff, had shouted at Joe as soon as they entered the room and was currently berating Joe on his visiting habits. "Joe, where the hell you been?" the man said. "You haven't been to see me in almost two weeks. It better be that pretty Jenny that's keeping you away."
Joe stared at the man in obvious dismay. "How'd you know about Jenny?"
The man snorted. "Hell, boy, everyone in town knows how you feel about Jenny, except for Jenny. Did you really think I got this far in life being shortsighted?"
Joe sighed. "No, I guess not."
"Well? Have you been seeing her?"
Joe shook his head.
"What the hell are you waiting for? If you hold off until you're comfortable enough to ask, Jenny'll be married and have five kids. You want to live in that town for the rest of your life with another man married to your wife?"
"No, sir," Joe said and shifted his feet, obviously uneasy at the thought of Jenny married to another man. "I know it's more fun picking on me, but we've got a situation here that needs your attention."
The man in the wheelchair looked at Richard. "Are you the self-righteous son of a bitch?" The man pointed to Dorie. "Her words."
Richard stared at the man, unsure how exactly to reply to the question, and Joe nodded. "Yep, this is Dick with the DEA. He wants to see you about Dorie's refusal to follow his orders and her apparent inability to do her job in general." Joe waved a hand at the man in the wheelchair. "Dick, this is Sheriff Berenger."
“ Berenger?" Richard looked at the sheriff, then Dorie and back to Joe, a feeling of dread creeping over him. "Dorie's father?"
Joe gave Richard a huge smile. "The one and only. Go ahead and tell him all about his incompetent, bullheaded daughter. I'm going down the hall to find some of those chocolate-chip cookies Sherry keeps at the front desk." He sauntered out the door, whistling.
"So, Dick," Sheriff Berenger said, smiling. "I hear you been giving my daughter a hard
"Is that what all the stomping was about?" Sherry gave Richard an up-and-down look. She didn't seem impressed with what she saw "You disturb my patient, and I'll have your hide, son. I don't care how old you are or where you're from. You understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Richard replied, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into now.
"This way," Joe said and headed off down a corridor. Richard took one last look at the frowning Sherry and followed Joe down the hall.
When they reached the end of the building, Joe knocked on a door, and Richard heard a voice call for them to enter. Joe shot Richard a dirty look that clearly said this was not going to be pleasant and it was all Richard's fault, then pushed the door open.
The man in the wheelchair was in a tiny living room just off the entry. Richard took one look at him and held back a string of curse words. The man was paralyzed. And apparently the two assholes he'd ridden over here with had found that information unnecessary to pass along despite his comment back at the sheriff's office. He barely controlled his anger as he scanned the rest of the room.
Dorie sat in an overstuffed chair, arms crossed in front of her, a resolute expression on her face. A collection of military weapons that would have made a third-world country envious hung on the wall behind her, and a huge alligator head was perched above the fireplace, its glassy eyes seeming to glare at him. The wall next to him contained photo after photo of camouflage-clad men, and in the center hung a single medal. Upon closer inspection, Richard realized he was looking at a Silver Star and turned his attention back to the man in the wheelchair, trying not to show his surprise at finding a war hero in such an unlikely place.
The man, whom Richard now presumed was the sheriff, had shouted at Joe as soon as they entered the room and was currently berating Joe on his visiting habits. "Joe, where the hell you been?" the man said. "You haven't been to see me in almost two weeks. It better be that pretty Jenny that's keeping you away."
Joe stared at the man in obvious dismay. "How'd you know about Jenny?"
The man snorted. "Hell, boy, everyone in town knows how you feel about Jenny, except for Jenny. Did you really think I got this far in life being shortsighted?"
Joe sighed. "No, I guess not."
"Well? Have you been seeing her?"
Joe shook his head.
"What the hell are you waiting for? If you hold off until you're comfortable enough to ask, Jenny'll be married and have five kids. You want to live in that town for the rest of your life with another man married to your wife?"
"No, sir," Joe said and shifted his feet, obviously uneasy at the thought of Jenny married to another man. "I know it's more fun picking on me, but we've got a situation here that needs your attention."
The man in the wheelchair looked at Richard. "Are you the self-righteous son of a bitch?" The man pointed to Dorie. "Her words."
Richard stared at the man, unsure how exactly to reply to the question, and Joe nodded. "Yep, this is Dick with the DEA. He wants to see you about Dorie's refusal to follow his orders and her apparent inability to do her job in general." Joe waved a hand at the man in the wheelchair. "Dick, this is Sheriff Berenger."
“ Berenger?" Richard looked at the sheriff, then Dorie and back to Joe, a feeling of dread creeping over him. "Dorie's father?"
Joe gave Richard a huge smile. "The one and only. Go ahead and tell him all about his incompetent, bullheaded daughter. I'm going down the hall to find some of those chocolate-chip cookies Sherry keeps at the front desk." He sauntered out the door, whistling.
"So, Dick," Sheriff Berenger said, smiling. "I hear you been giving my daughter a hard
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