The Wake County Sheriff's Office was bustling like usual when I walked in on Monday morning with my coffee in one hand and a stack of case files in the other.

The morning receptionist, Margaret Barker, was typing at her computer. "Good morning, Detective McNamara."

"Morning, Marge. How's the grandbaby?" I asked as I passed by her desk.

"Spoiled already. Did you have a nice weekend?" she asked.

I still wasn't sure. "It was definitely interesting." I turned and pushed the interior office door open with my back. "Have a good day."

"You too," she said over the white rim of her glasses.

On the other side of the door, as I turned around, someone slammed into me. Hot coffee sloshed all over the front of my new tan pullover. "Ah, damn it," I muttered, holding my arms out and looking down at the milky brown puddle around my boots.

"Sorry, Nate!" It was our IT guy, Ramon Edgar. Ramon reminded me of a Weeble Wobble with a soul patch. He had an incurable case of acne that had scarred his face, and he had gauges in his earlobes. He lived in his grandmother's basement and spent his free time playing World of Warcraft. How did I know? Because it was my job to know useless information about people.

I huffed and wiped my shirt with my sleeve. "It's OK, Ramon."

"I got it, boss," someone said to my right. An inmate trustee, Dennis Morgan, was already coming in my direction with a mop.

Ramon was still horrified in front of me. "Man, I'm sorry. I didn't see the door open in front of me."

I held up the files in my hand to silence him. "It was an accident, Ramon. Don't worry about it."

He was fidgeting, paralyzed in limbo between some unseen further obligation to me and his own social awkwardness. Fidgeting drove me nuts.

I pointed down the hall. "You can go now."

He nodded. "Right. Sorry."

"Need some more coffee?" Dennis was eyeing my empty cup as he sloshed up my spilt drink. His red hair, red eyebrows, and red freckles made his orange and white jumpsuit look like central Florida camouflage.

I stepped over the puddle. "I'm good. Thanks, Dennis."

"Just doing my job," he replied.

"McNamara!" a familiar voice barked across the room. It was the voice that made my balls jump back up into my stomach. Lieutenant William Carr was the resident asshole of the department. He was also my boss.

Carr was standing in the doorway of his office still wearing his long, black overcoat.

I groaned and headed in his direction. "Morning, Lieutenant."

He didn't greet me. "Where are we at with Kensington?" He turned on his heel and walked back into his office while I followed.

He walked around behind his large oak desk and slipped off his coat.

"Sir, we're following up on two leads that we believe are—"

"Do I smell hazelnut?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

I sighed. "Coffee accident."

His eyes narrowed. "I hate hazelnut."

It was all I could do to not roll my eyes. "My apologies." I approached his desk and offered the files in my hand. "I will personally be following up with Mayor Kensington first thing this—"

He pushed the files away and slammed his fist down on the desk. "While you were off working on your little side investigation, there was another robbery this weekend, Detective!"

My eyes widened. "I'm aware, sir. I got the call this—"

"And what have you done about it? Or do real investigations in this office just not matter to you anymore?" He leaned his arms on his desk and glared at me.

My mouth was hanging open, incapable of forming a response.

A man cleared his throat behind me, and before I could turn around, Carr's immediate shift in demeanor told me that Sheriff Lyle Tipper had entered the room.

My whole body relaxed.

"Good morning, Bill," the sheriff said. "Detective McNamara."

I turned toward him. "Good morning, Sheriff."

Tipper was the sheriff who hired me fresh out of Basic Law Enforcement Training when I was twenty. He was grayer now and shorter somehow, but he was still a pit bull when he needed to be—and Carr knew it.

"I need to borrow Detective McNamara if you don't mind, Bill." He put a hand on my shoulder.

I enjoyed watching Carr squirm.

He nodded. "Whatever you need, Sheriff."

Sheriff Tipper smiled. "Thank you." He looked at me. "Nate?"

"Absolutely, sir. Lead the way."

The sheriff closed Carr's office door on our way out. "You're welcome," he said before I could thank him.

I wouldn't have thanked him however, because as much as I hated Carr, it would be disrespectful.

"Bill's wound a little tight this morning because the mayor is breathing down all of our throats," he explained.

I wanted to ask him 'what about every other morning?' but I thought better of it. Instead, I just nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. I'm sure the mayor is desperate to know who broke into his home. We are doing everything we can, sir."

Sheriff Tipper smiled. "I know that. How did things go in Asheville this weekend?"

Shannon's bride-of-Frankenstein hair flashed through my mind. "Not as well as I'd hoped. The Brysons weren't interested in speaking with me about their daughter's disappearance, but I went through all the files on the case yesterday, and I'm more confident than ever that it's the same perp."

He nodded. "OK. Well, keep me posted on what you find out." We stopped at my office door and he pointed across the room to where the trustee was still polishing up my mess on the floor. "Who's the new trustee?"

"His name's Dennis Morgan. He's doing eight months for hacking into the county hospital system and erasing the outstanding medical bills for his father and about twenty other terminal cancer patients."

The sheriff pinched his lips together like he was trying to suppress a grin. He just nodded and slapped me on the back. "Have a good day, Detective." His head tilted back in the direction of the lieutenant's office. "And don't mind, Carr. He's all bark." With a wink, he was gone.

Once inside my office, I dropped the files on my desk and flopped down in my chair. It wasn't even eight A.M. yet and it was already a lousy day. I pulled off my olive green ball cap and dropped it on my desk.

"Nate!" The booming voice at my door startled me.

I smiled as Tyrell Reese walked into the room. Reese was my closest friend on the force and my favorite cop to work with in our Investigation Unit. Not just because he towered over everyone, including me, at 6'3 and always had my back but because he was one of the funniest dudes I knew.

"What's up, man?" I asked.

"Nada," Reese said, dropping into the chair opposite my desk. "How was your weekend?"

"Interesting." I laughed and scratched my head.

Reese pointed at me. "You got laid."

I sat back in my chair. "How could you possibly know that?"

He laughed and held up his phone. There was a picture of Shannon and I together at the bar on his screen, and it was sideways and my tongue was hanging out. "I got this at three in the morning." He chuckled. "It wasn't that hard to figure out."

I slid my hand down my face. "Man, I was trashed."

He nodded. "I can tell. What happened?"

I laced my fingers together behind my head and leaned back in my chair. "I went to this sports bar Friday night to watch the game and a couple of the guys from Buncombe County were there. I switched from drinking beer to Crown somewhere during half-time and it all went downhill from there."

His head snapped back with surprise. "Or uphill. That chick is smoking'."

I smiled. "She wasn't bad."

He slapped his large hand down on my desk. "I'm proud of you. You needed a night off. All you do is work, work, work."

I pointed at him. "Somebody's gotta make up for your slacker ass."

"Slacker ass?" He leaned toward me. "Who was working B & E's this weekend while you were off banging the beauty queen?"

"I got an earful about it from Carr as soon as I walked in this morning. What have you got?" I asked.

"They hit Cary on Friday," he said. "Over in Preston Bluffs."

I sighed and shook my head. "No shit?"

He nodded. "Took our guys thirty minutes to get there. Mr. Sider was long gone by the time we showed up."

"Sider," I repeated with a chuckle. "Why thirty minutes?"

He turned his palms up. "Closest unit was tied up."

I groaned. "That's starting to become a common theme."

"Yep. Thought so too," he said.

My office phone beeped. "Detective McNamara?" Marge asked over the speaker.

"Talk to me," I answered.

"There's a Shannon Green on line three for you."

**********