Dakota (Ch 28)

He knelt by the body. He had known this man for his entire life. He grew up with him. He went to school with him. They played football together. They went to Junior College together. They attended the Academy together. They weren't best of friends by any means, but they were friends, lifelong friends nonetheless. He couldn't believe it. He didn't understand. The man, the Sheriff, Lyle Holt lie lifeless in front him. Kahle tried to process. His knees were sore from being pressed against the wood floor. He didn't disturb the body. He didn't check for signs of life. He didn't try to resuscitate. There was no need. Holt was dead. The gaping hole in his chest was proof of that. Kahle didn't move. He just stared into the glassy eyes of his former boss. He tried to comprehend. He tried to piece it together. He wanted to know. There were too many questions flying around. It was like swatting at flies. They disappeared just before he could grasp them. He never had time to wrap his mind around one before another came buzzing in and distracted him. It was one nuisance after another.

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there without making a move. For a moment his mind flashed back. Guilt swelled up the back of his throat. He coughed, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. Could this be his fault? Was there something he had done or set in motion that led to Holt's murder? How did this new girl not know about it?

"Hey! Hey!"

He waited for her to respond. Nothing. He didn't move, but called again.

"Hey, you...up front-new girl!"

He didn't hear a sound. There was no movement at the front of the office. He slowly rose to his feet.

"HEY!"

He was frustrated. Didn't she know? Why wasn't she answering? He slowly trekked down the hall. He muttered under his breath about incompetence and the youth of today. He was right about her. She couldn't handle it. She wouldn't last.

He approached her from behind. She sat at the computer playing Mahjong Titans. Now he was angry.

"Hey, dumbass-"

He tapped her on the shoulder. Her right hand left the mouse with unprecedented speed. She caught him by the wrist, rose from her chair, kicked it back and spun around employing a twisting maneuver to his arm. He wasn't prepared. He felt the pain. She had an extremely firm grip on his forearm. His mouth hung agape. Their eyes met. Blink. She realized her mistake and released his arm.

"What the hell?"

She blurted out, as she tugged at the white wires that led up her chest and neck to her ears. The buds fell out and she reached for the device that was tucked in her front pocket. She clicked it off.

He massaged his wrist with his left hand.

"Dammit. How loud was your music? Can't you hear anything?"

"Not that loud."

"I was yelling at you from down the hall. Yelling. Loud. How are you going to hear the phone ring?"

"When the phone rings I can feel the desk vibrate, and the lights flash and stuff...I'm sorry I didn't hear you yelling."

"Listen to me. While you were out here playing your games and listening to music, Sheriff Holt was shot and murdered in his office. You want to explain that to me? You want to tell me how that happens?"

The color evaporated from face. She slumped back into her chair. She swallowed hard and tried to wet her lips.

"He...he...he what?"

"You heard me. Holt is dead. Shot to the chest. What were you doing? Who was back there with him?"

"Um. Uh, no one since I came in. Marge left about an hour ago when I got here. Said he was back in his office, fuming about something. She told me to stay out of his way and not to bother him. I didn't even see him. He hadn't come out and I didn't go back there."

Her speech was slow. She had to work for each word. She was too fragile for this field of work.

"God. I think I'm going to throw up."

He saw her swallow hard. He reached beneath the counter and pulled out the wastebasket.

"Here. If you're gonna do it, don't make a mess. Call a bus. And then get me the FBI field office in Sioux Falls."

He stepped out from behind the desk and slowly walked back to Holt's office. Midway down the hall he heard her heave.

"That better be in the bucket. Or else go get the mop."

Back at Holt's side, Kahle pulled out his phone and took some pictures of the body, the wall, the floor, the window. He examined the body without touching it, careful to avoid the pool of blood on the floor. He looked at the window. It was still secured. He took a few turns around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. From what he could tell, it didn't appear that anything was missing. There was no note. There was no message. Just a dead body. Holt's gun was still fastened into the holster. His radio was still on. His phone was likely still in his pocket. Kahle stepped out of the office and into the hallway. He proceeded to the back exit. It was still closed. He pushed it open. A cold rain fell. It hit his skin and refreshed him. It was quiet and peaceful. It was quiet. It was quiet. It hit him. The alarm wasn't sounding. Why wasn't the emergency exit alarm going off? He inspected the red push bar that crossed the door. The wires leading into the it had been cut. But the wires were inside. He knew how the killer had escaped without being seen. But he still wasn't sure how they had managed to get into Holt's office without being noticed.

He pulled the door shut and wiped his face sleeve. He stood for a moment and thought before heading back to the body. He heard another heave from down the hall.

"Pull yourself together, kid. Where's my bus?"

"I think I'm OK now."

"That's not what I asked you."

"Um. Uh they're coming. Ten minutes."

"Good. You have my call?"

"No. I'm calling now. Sorry."

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon this shit is urgent!"

"Uh, yes. I'm calling. I just--"

"Just call."

He sat in the chair across from Holt's desk. He wasn't sure what to do next. He didn't know where to focus his attention. He couldn't ignore the events that had transpired in the office, but Janie and Jake were depending on him.

"OK, OK, I have the FBI for you on line 1."

He didn't respond. He just hurried to the other side of Holt's desk and picked up the phone.

"Agent Marks? We've got a bigger issue on our hands than I thought. Are you almost to the office?"

"I've got a dead sheriff on my hands."

"You heard me. The sheriff is dead. Shot through the chest in his own office."

"Yeah, I need at least two guys on the place on Elk River. I don't want anyone getting overwhelmed. If someone walked in here and blew him away, there's no telling what they're capable of, or where they are now."

"I'm sure it's connected. I'm glad you agree."

"I wanted this place scoured for any shred of evidence that exists. It's starting to rain so we gotta get outside before anything washes away."

"Alright, thanks. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. Get your team together and make sure they stay alert."

/ / /

She saw the lights of the sign from the highway. She wasn't pleased to be back in this place. She pulled her car beneath the overhang to escape the rain. She sat still for a moment before climbing out of her seat. She walked through automatic doors and approached the counter. He had said he loved her. He had acted strangely though. She didn't know what to think. Her hands rested on her belly as she stared across the counter at a blank wall. To her left there a sign hung crooked on the wall. On it was a cliched statement, "We'll strive to do our best, because we're glad you're our guest."

She leaned over and straightened the sign. She waited. No one came. She spotted a bell at the opposite end of the counter and made her way to it. She slapped her hand down on it three times. The sound echoed.

A stout man appeared from the doorway behind the desk.

"Oh why hello. Sorry to keep you waiting."

She returned to the center of the counter and focused her attention on the man before her.

"It's fine. I just need a room. I don't know for how long. A while."

"OK, well let me check. He tapped away at the keys and kept his eyes focused on the screen."

"Anything is fine. Double, King, whatever."

"Well I see here--"

He looked up to her.

"Oh, well miss, I didn't realize you were back with us?"

"Yes, well, it appears so."