The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,40

several years ago. A messy, very public divorce from a TV news anchor in California had caused him to seek out solitude in the smallest town he could find that would still support an accountant. He found his solitude, and Artemis gained a sorely needed financial advisor who was a sucker for pro bono jobs, including an occasional consult with the local police.

Josie had dated Dillon for six months before he got tired of waiting for her to decide if things would ever move forward. They were great friends, great lovers, but Dillon said the part that mattered most to him, the marrow, he had called it, was nonexistent. He told her he was done waiting and asked another woman to a Marfa art gallery opening. Josie had not spoken to him since. It hadn’t ended nicely for either of them, and Josie sensed he felt as bad about the end as she did. At least she hoped he did. Now she intended to provide them both with an opportunity to at least speak again on the street, although in view of the contractions in her throat, she obviously hoped for something more. She missed him intensely.

Josie walked into the office and found Dillon’s secretary on the phone. Where Josie was wiry, MS. CHRISTINA HANDLEY, as the nameplate read, was willowy and graceful. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt that brought out the deep Mediterranean glow of her skin. She had dark eyes, black hair cut in an expensive shoulder-length pageboy, and pouty lips. Her head was cocked as she talked into a headset and typed on the computer in front of her. She paused, glanced Josie’s way and winked, then gave her an I’ll be with you smile.

Christina pointed a red fingernail to a waiting area with maple furniture that matched the glossy maple floors. The office was painted in earthy shades of brown and red and yellow, each wall a different color, with black-and-white Japanese etchings grouped around the room. Josie’s attention moved from the art back to the receptionist.

The woman sat back in her chair and tucked her silky hair behind an ear with a small diamond earring that glinted across the room. The secretary was a new addition to the office.

Josie’s uniform pants scratched at her thighs, and the bulletproof vest smashed her chest. She adjusted her gun belt. Never one for makeup, if she’d had lipstick in the jeep, she would have walked back outside and applied it.

The woman looked toward her suddenly, the call on her headset apparently complete, and smiled brightly. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

“I’m Chief Josie Gray. Is Mr. Reese available for a few minutes?”

The woman pressed a button on her computer and talked into the microphone near her lips. “Chief Gray is here to see you.” She smiled, pressed another button, and turned to Josie. “Do you know where his office is?”

There was only one office and a storage room beyond the secretary’s desk. Josie refrained from sarcasm and just smiled. “Yes, I’ve been here.”

“Go right on back, then.”

Dillon was standing up behind his desk when she walked in. He was a little over six feet tall, slightly stooped, and wore khaki pants with a white shirt and yellow tie. He had sad eyes that turned down at the corners, but the blue was bright and intense, as if backlit. He kept his salt-and-pepper hair cut short, and Josie considered him one of the most handsome men she knew. She had never met another person so at ease with himself in the world.

He smiled warmly at her, displaying none of the awkwardness she felt. She tried to appear at ease. Looking professional, in charge, or angry were all looks she had mastered, but she could never fake relaxed.

Dillon walked around his desk and shook her hand, placed the other hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you.” He pulled back a comfortable chair in front of his desk and sat beside her rather than moving back behind his desk. “What brings you by? Social, I hope, not business.”

“A little of both,” she said.

“Business out of the way first, then. What do you have?”

Josie opened an accordion file she’d brought with her. It was stuffed full of paperwork, bank statements, receipts, handwritten ledgers, and outstanding bills that they had found at the house.

“I’m working on Red Goff’s death.”

Dillon nodded, his brow furrowed. “I heard about his murder.”

“I wondered if you could take a cursory look at his files