Judging by his uniform, Tyler knew that this man must be Godspeed’s chief of police.
“Evidence recovered from the meth lab, located in the old Southern Missouri State Prison, shows that Deputy Graham is on the gang’s payroll,” the chief said. He stared directly at Joanna. “You sold out didn’t you, Deputy?”
Joanna pushed her palms forward as if trying to physically shun the accusation. “No!” she protested. “That’s not true. If I’d sold out, why would I leave evidence behind?”
“I’m guessing you got sloppy,” he replied. “For someone with a Harvard education, you sure can be dumb sometimes.”
Tyler saw a flash of resentment in the police chief’s eyes, and he didn’t like it. This vendetta seemed personal. He knew that he should recognize these men, particularly the ruddy faced, uniformed police chief. But he didn’t. And it put him at a disadvantage.
“Back off,” Tyler said, becoming defensive. “Let’s leave personal insults out of this. What exactly did you find to incriminate Deputy Graham?”
The chief slid his eyes over to Tyler. “The SWAT team recovered handwritten instructions, detailing exactly how many payments this deputy was due to receive in return for safe passage of meth out of Missouri. It gave me enough probable cause to obtain a search warrant for her home.” He eyeballed Joanna. “I found approximately two hundred thousand dollars in cash hidden in your closet. Now where do you suppose that came from, Deputy?”
Joanna’s face was stricken with horror. “No, no, no,” she repeated. “Somebody must have planted that there.”
Tyler’s mind began to work overtime. Leaving two hundred grand lying around your home didn’t seem like the smart thing to do, especially for someone with a Harvard degree.
“Chief,” he said. “Have you considered that Deputy Graham might be the victim of a setup? Handwritten notes don’t really prove anything. Somebody could’ve deliberately left them behind before going to her home and leaving the cash.”
The police chief softened his expression. “I’m sorry, Tyler. Young Dr. Sinclair told me that you took a blow to the head today and tried to insist that I shouldn’t bother you this evening, but I have a job to do. I’ve been led to understand that you might not remember me.” He exchanged glances with the other man in the room, who was a few years older and chubbier than the chief. “I’m Police Chief George Crenshaw, and this is the mayor of Godspeed, Harley Landon.”
Tyler knew that these men currently saw him as weak, so he had to change their perception.
“Yes, I know who you are,” he lied. “My memory loss was only temporary. I’m fully recovered.”
A slow smile spread across the chief’s face. “Well, I’m mighty pleased to hear it. You had us worried for a while there.” His smile faded. “I wish I didn’t have to do this to one of your deputies, but I have no choice. She needs to be remanded into custody until the Feds arrive to take over. I’d rather investigate the case myself, but you know how it is. Small-town chiefs like me get pushed aside when it suits the FBI.”
Tyler noticed Joanna rest her forehead in her palm. “This can’t be happening,” she muttered.
“Why don’t you let me run her in?” Tyler said. “I’d like to be the one to do that.”
At this point, the mayor intervened. “Thanks for the offer, Sheriff Beck, but that won’t be necessary. Chief Crenshaw and I will do all the paperwork.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “Since when did the mayor of Godspeed assist the police with arrests and paperwork? I know I forgot a few things, but I’m pretty sure that small-town mayors don’t have that kind of authority.”
The paunchy, middle-aged mayor reddened and cast his eyes downward. “Ah...well...sometimes I just like to go along for the ride.” He put his hands in the air. “But you’re right, Sheriff. Chief Crenshaw will handle all the paperwork.”
Tyler addressed the chief. “Where will Joanna be held?”
“She’ll be in the cell at the Godspeed police station for the night.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “It’s my station, so I should take her in.”
Tyler had to think on his feet. “Come on, George,” he said with what he hoped was a note of familiarity. “Joanna’s my responsibility. At least let me take her to the cell and hand her over to you officially. Whatever she’s done, she’s under my jurisdiction.”
“Well, that’s not strictly true now, is it, Sheriff?” answered George, rubbing his neck. “The undercover operation at the old prison comes under my leadership, not yours.”
“But she’s my deputy,” Tyler said. “I’d like to deliver her to the cell myself. Why don’t you meet us at Godspeed station? Let’s not fight over jurisdiction. Not today.”
Chief Crenshaw thought for a moment, smiled, stepped toward Tyler and patted him on the back. “If you’re sure you’re feeling better, then I guess I can allow you to run her in. Has the hospital cleared you to leave?”
Tyler nodded firmly. “One of the docs gave me a clean bill of health,” he said, taking his cuffs and securing them around Joanna’s wrists. She flinched under his touch, but she didn’t put up a fight. “My cruiser is right outside. I’ll have Deputy Graham at the station in no time.”
Chief Crenshaw opened the door. “I’ll see you there,” he said walking purposely down the corridor with the mayor, seemingly anxious to start the process. “Don’t dawdle now.”
“I won’t,” Tyler said, pretending to adjust Joanna’s cuffs while watching the men enter the elevator. “I’m right behind you.”
He then checked the vicinity for Dr. Sinclair, spotting him intently studying brain scan images in a small adjacent room. Creeping along the hallway, Tyler approached the elevator and pressed the button, desperately hoping that the doctor wouldn’t see him leave.
His outward demeanor was cool and calm, but inwardly, he was battling some pretty intense emotions. His life had been turned upside down. Whether he liked it or not, he was the sheriff of a county he thought he’d left behind long ago. He’d swapped clandestine missions in far-off lands for local law enforcement in Yardley County, nestled in the boot heel of Missouri. He had been raised in Godspeed by his grandmother after his parents died in a traffic accident when he was just eight years old. His old-fashioned grandmother had taught him to be honest and upstanding and to always trust his gut. He wished she were still alive, able to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life. But in the absence of both his grandmother and his memory, his gut was the only thing he could trust.
He steered Joanna into the elevator. “Is your memory really back?” she asked. He saw the desperate hope written on her face.
He shook his head. “I lied.”
“Even if you don’t remember me, Tyler, you know me,” she said, facing him with wide eyes, the color of warm dark caramel. “I would never betray you or the sheriff’s department.”
“I think I believe you.”
“But you’re taking me in anyway.”
He leaned in close. “I’m taking you someplace where we can figure this out together.” He reached around and took the cell phone that she still held in one hand behind her back. “And I’m hoping that this will give us some clues about who’s behind the setup.”
Her face broke into a huge, grateful smile. “You really mean it? You’ll help me?”
“We’ll help each other,” he replied. “With my memory shot to pieces, it looks like I need you as much