No Ordinary Sheriff. Mary Sullivan

saw Cash start to turn away and she frowned.

      “Austin,” she called, “don’t forget to stop at the Lucky Seven and pick up food. There’s nothing in the fridge.”

      Cash’s anger flared. It was a mother’s job to take care of the kid, not the other way around.

      He wanted to shake Connie, to yell at her, “For God’s sake, woman, develop a backbone and do right by your boy,” but he was caught in a familiar bind. If he yelled or criticized, he would hurt a woman too weak to defend herself no matter how mildly he expressed it. He remembered how easily Mom used to cry. His anger and frustration had nowhere to go.

      He bit his tongue, holding it all in. He left her standing there and climbed into the truck.

      “Harry Potter is playing tonight. That okay with you?”

      “Yeah,” Austin said, his low voice barely audible.

      Was the giant step Austin had taken away from his Big Brother normal I’m-almost-a-teenager-stuff? Or was there something more sinister going on?

      At the edge of Monroe, on the way to the Five Points Cinema, they passed Sassy’s Bar. The transient biker population of the next county hung out there, and the parking lot looked jammed full of chrome and bikes.

      When they got to the theater, they settled in with popcorn and pop and watched the movie.

      Afterward, Cash waited while Austin went to the washroom.

      Five minutes later, Austin came out looking pale, with his shoulders hunched up around his ears, setting off alarms in Cash.

      “Everything okay?” he asked.

      “Yeah,” Austin mumbled while he kept his face averted. Something seemed fishy.

      “Hold up,” Cash said. “I think I’d better use the washroom, too.”

      He slipped into the men’s room and scouted around. Nothing looked out of place. There was a pair of feet under the closed door of one stall. Did someone just sell Austin something? Marijuana? Drugs? Or had someone said something off-color or insulting? Something about his mom? Cash’s cop instincts went into overdrive. Why had Austin come out of here so secretive and embarrassed?

      He used the urinal and washed his hands, taking his time so he could find out whose feet those were. The toilet flushed and Brad McCloskey walked out. He nodded when he saw Cash.

      “Hey, Cash,” he said.

      Brad owned the only pharmacy in Ordinary. He was a father of four boys, and his wife, Mary Lou, volunteered at church. They attended services every Sunday.

      Brad was one of the good guys.

      So why had Austin come out of here with a bad case of something going on, with Brad the only other person here?

      Had Austin picked up something that had already been stashed in here? They came to the theater every Friday. Had Austin pre-arranged something? No way could Cash go out and search Austin’s pockets, though. It would break the fragile trust he had worked so hard to build.

      Besides, he didn’t have a shred of proof that Austin was doing drugs other than those few puffs of marijuana this morning. All he had was a healthy suspicion of trouble, and trouble didn’t necessarily mean drugs.

      He left the washroom no wiser than when he’d entered it, his frustration racing double time.

      One thing he would do was put his cop skills to use by taking a closer look at Brad. Was there a wolf hiding inside his mild-mannered sheep’s clothing?

      Cash pulled into the Lucky Seven parking lot, the only convenience store and gas station in the county open twenty-four hours.

      “You have money to get groceries?” he asked.

      Austin blushed and shook his head. So, Connie was using Cash for…cash.

      That anger flared again. It had nothing to do with being stingy. He enjoyed helping people, but Connie needed to find a way to support herself.

      Resigned, he said, “Come on,” and stepped out of the truck.

      * * *

      SHANNON HAD BEEN in Sassy’s for an hour already, surrounded by more bikers than she could count, and still knew nothing. She had five drinks in front of her and hadn’t done more than mime drinking them. She wouldn’t put it past one of these jokers to try to slip her a roofie.

      She finally asked what needed to be asked, interrupting some guy’s story about a battle they’d pitched somewhere with a rival gang.