Tempting the Devil

Tempting the Devil by Patricia; Potter

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Authors: Patricia; Potter
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reticence was due to his job, and she would make it clear that a source was sacred. She would die before betraying one.
    Or hoped she would.
    She touched the small recorder in her pocket. She used it for all interviews since her fingers often didn’t move as quickly as words. It was her protection against any charge that she misquoted someone. She usually threw the tapes out or reused them.
    She looked at her watch. Forty minutes left.
    If he came.
    He hadn’t wanted to meet her. He’d wanted to get rid of her. Yet she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he had something inside he wanted to say.
    She thought back over the day. It hadn’t been that productive. She’d basically rewritten yesterday’s story, staring with a lead saying the investigation was intensifying but that local officials were saying little. Neither the sheriff nor the police chief had been available today, and the only real news had been the funeral plans.
    They were scheduled for tomorrow. Two of the murdered officers attended the same church and a joint funeral was planned. The third officer’s funeral would be later in the day.
    She’d talked to the pastors of both churches, learning even more about the two men with families and about the officer who had recently married. He and his new wife had had counseling sessions at the church before their wedding, according to the pastor. The bride was a longtime resident of the county, and he had relocated and changed jobs so she could remain close to her family.
    An irony that ripped into her heart. She couldn’t even imagine the guilt the woman might feel.
    Another look at her watch. Fifteen minutes.
    Would he come?
    Then she saw an older-model sedan entering the lot. Sandy usually drove a red pickup. For a moment, she felt a sudden chill although the temperature hovered in the midnineties. She switched on her miniature recorder in her pocket and went to the driver’s side of her car.
    She saw Sandy step out of the car and went over to him. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked years older than his thirty-some years.
    â€œThanks for coming,” she said.
    â€œI just came to tell you not to contact me again,” he said. “I could lose my job if anyone thinks I’m talking to you.”
    â€œYou’re not,” she said. “You haven’t told me anything.”
    â€œJust being seen with you …”
    She waited for him to finish the sentence. When he didn’t after several seconds, she tried to prompt him.
    â€œI’m just asking about background. Stuff I could get from anyone.”
    â€œThen try ‘anyone’,” he said shortly. “Not me.”
    â€œSurely—”
    â€œLook,” he said, “you don’t know what’s involved here.”
    â€œNo,” she said, exasperated. “You won’t tell me.”
    He was silent.
    â€œYou said before, or intimated, that a ‘nosy’ reporter could be in danger. It sounded as if you might have an idea who may have been involved.”
    â€œAnyone who kills three cops is dangerous.”
    â€œBut wouldn’t they be long gone by now? Unless someone is protecting them?”
    His mouth tightened, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
    She tried a different tack. “Tell me more about the sheriff’s department. Judge Godwin said it’s a closed shop. What did he mean?”
    â€œThat crazy old coot.” Sandy’s voice was harsh. “You can’t pay any attention to what he says.”
    â€œIs it?” she persisted. She hadn’t really thought it was important before. Why wouldn’t a local sheriff hire people he knew and trusted? She’d basically wanted a little color, a paragraph, but something about his reaction alerted her instincts.
    â€œIs it what?”
    â€œA closed shop? Didn’t you tell me your father worked for the sheriff’s office?”
    He stared at her for a long moment.

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