Beyond Reach by Karin Slaughter Page A

realized he’d missed supper. Cook must have heard it because he offered, “You want one?” Jeffrey shook his head, and the man held the pack toward Sara, who shook her head, too.
    Cook sat back, chewing his cracker. He raised his eyebrows at Jeffrey. “Bad situation.”
    Jeffrey knew that he was being played by the old man. Cook was probably bored out of his mind doing babysitting duty. Tossing Jeffrey a bone and seeing if he’d fetch was obviously more entertaining than doing the crossword. What the deputy didn’t count on was that the dog might bite. Jeffrey looked at his watch, thinking he had wasted enough time. He could get his chain pulled in the comfort of his own home.
    He told the deputy, “I’d really like to see her.”
    “That explosion was deliberately set.” Cook’s tone was a warning.
    Jeffrey heard Sara shift behind him. “That so?” he asked.
    “Yep.”
    He couldn’t help himself. “You think my detective started it?”
    “Like I said—”
    “Talk to Jake.”
    “Right,” Cook said, crumbs dropping onto his uniform as he chewed the cracker. Out of nowhere, he announced, “I worked with Calvin Adams.”
    Jeffrey guessed he meant Lena’s father.
    “Good man, Cal,” Cook continued. “Took two in the head on a traffic stop. Liked to killed me when it happened.”
    Jeffrey didn’t respond, but he knew all too well the feeling of losing a fellow cop. It was a loss that haunted you every day of your life—harder, maybe, than losing a family member or a spouse.
    Cook was still leaning back in his chair, fingers laced over his belly. “You took me for the sheriff, huh?”
    “Sorry?” Jeffrey asked. His mind had been wandering. “Yeah,” he answered, realizing what the man had said. “My mistake.”
    “I’ve been wearing this uniform going on forty years,” Cook proudly stated. “Finally threw my hat into the ring for the sheriff’s job. Lost it to Jake.” Jeffrey knew that the sheriff’s office was an elected position. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn’t have to campaign every two years to keep his job. It was a good position if you could get it. The sheriff’s pension and benefits were some of the best in law enforcement.
    Cook said, “Jake Valentine,” with a chuckle. “Sounds like some kind of soap opera star. Boy ain’t been off his mama’s tit more than three years.”
    Jeffrey wasn’t in the mood to gossip about the sheriff. He wanted to know more about the explosion, whether it was deliberately set, who else was hurt, and what in the hell Lena had to do with any of it. He knew Cook wasn’t about to offer up answers on a silver platter, so he asked, “Do you know Hank Norton?”
    “Sure I do. No-good piece of shit is what he is.”
    Jeffrey realized that he was relieved to hear the man talking about Lena’s uncle in the present tense. He asked, “Has Hank been in trouble?”
    “Caught somebody passing meth at his place three weeks ago. We closed it down, but Norton was so wasted I doubt he even noticed.”
    “I thought he was sober now.”
    “I thought my wife was a virgin when I married her.” Cook blanched, remembering Sara. “Sorry, ma’am.” He leaned his elbow on the desk, directed his words toward Jeffrey. “Lookit, Norton’s been a junkie from the word go. Must’ve started when he was around sixteen, seventeen. You don’t stay away from that kind of thing for very long.”
    “Speed, right?”
    “So the story goes.”
    The elevator dinged, and Jeffrey heard the metallic whir of the doors sliding open. Two sets of footsteps echoed up the hall. The pair was having an animated conversation in hushed tones. As they drew closer, Jeffrey saw that one of them was a nurse. The other had to be Sheriff Jake Valentine.
    The young nurse seemed to be hanging on the sheriff’s every word as he described an elaborate scuffle he’d had with a drunk driver. Cook had been right about Valentine. The man looked about eighteen if he was a day. He