Chapter 1
The clump of moist brown earth hit the top of the casket with a thud. The hollow echo was a grim reminder of how quickly life could be snuffed out. Chief Sam Mason knew that well because inside the silvery-blue casket lay the body of one of his own. Officer Tyler Richardson.
Staring down at the casket, anger burning a hole in his chest, Sam made a silent promise to Tyler. He was going to find the person that shot him down and make him pay.
As chief of police of White Rock, New Hampshire, the responsibility for Tyler’s death weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. He was supposed to serve and protect the public—and here he couldn’t even keep one of his own officers from getting killed.
Tyler had only been twenty-eight—over a decade younger than Sam—and only a few months shy of making sergeant when his life had been cut short at a routine stop. Tyler had always been one to help the next guy. Ironically, that was what had gotten him killed. He’d pulled over to help a vehicle with a flat tire. How was he to know the driver had stolen that vehicle? Or that the driver would shoot him down in cold blood and run off?
The incident had stirred up the quiet northern New Hampshire town. And this crime was cowardly. Even so, Sam had made sure Tyler got a hero’s burial.
It was late spring. A time when the locals came out in droves to enjoy the good weather. A time for picnics and town celebrations. But not today. The chirping birds, budding trees, and smell of freshly dug earth and new spring grass had done nothing to ease the sorrow that clung to the crowd. Practically the whole town had come out to mourn Tyler. Dressed in shades of black and gray, they huddled in groups, the morning dew sticking in drops to their newly shined patent-leather shoes.
Across the gaping dark hole of the grave, Sam’s second-in-command, Sergeant Jody Harris, stood just to the left of Tyler’s family. She met his gaze, determination in her red-rimmed eyes. Whoever had killed Tyler Richardson was going to pay if Jo Harris had anything to say about it.
Tyler’s mom, Irma, and sister, Clarissa, clutched each other, staring down into the hole as if they still couldn’t believe he was gone. Their tearstained faces registered a dull look of shocked disbelief. Sam could hardly blame them. The reality of Tyler’s death still hadn’t sunk in for him either, and he imagined it was worse for Tyler’s two surviving family members.
Tyler hadn’t been married and was devoted to Clarissa, who had a degenerative muscular disease. In fact, Sam was surprised she was standing, probably forcing herself to remain on her feet. The wheelchair that she’d had to rely on more and more since Sam had known her sat at the ready behind her.
Sam’s chest constricted with worry about what would happen to her now. He knew Clarissa needed money for her medical condition. The family was not wealthy, and he knew Tyler spent most of his salary on Clarissa’s care. Too bad they didn’t have a fallen-officers fund. If they had, it would help alleviate some of the financial burden.
Sam knew Tyler’s family was too proud to accept handouts, but Irma and Clarissa didn’t know there wasn’t a fallen-officers fund, and Sam’s 401k could survive another withdrawal. Besides, he had no intention of ever retiring.
Sam caught a motion at the periphery of the crowd. Reese Hordon, the department receptionist, had her phone to her ear and was subtly waving to get his attention. The small White Rock police force had shut down the entire department so they could all attend the funeral, but crime didn’t take the day off in order to pay respects to the dead, so Reese had had the calls rerouted to her cell phone just in case.
And judging by the stricken look on her face, Sam knew that had been a good idea.
Sam scanned the crowd for Kevin, their part-timer. It was just the three of them now since Reese didn’t do fieldwork because she hadn’t graduated yet from the academy. Kevin must have already seen Reese’s signal and was heading in her direction. Sam caught Jo’s eye and tilted his head toward Reese. Jo nodded.
Sam trudged over and made his final good-byes to Irma. He held her dry hand and looked into her blank eyes. "We’re going to catch the guy that did this. But in the meantime I’m going to come and call on you. I have a check from the fallen-officers fund."
Something flickered in her eye. "There’s a fund?" Her voice sounded hopeful.
Sam nodded. "Any officer shot in the course of duty gets a stipend. I hope it’ll help you get through."
Sam made hasty good-byes to the other mourners. Like any other small-town police chief, Sam knew just about everybody in town. Couple that with the fact that he’d grown up here, and you might say he knew everyone in Coos County.
His shoulders slumped as he walked toward the black-and-white Tahoe.
Reese fell into step beside him, her black trench coat flapping as they walked. Reese had piled her thick jet-black hair on top of her head today, and it made her pale-blue eyes look huge. She’d dressed up to honor Tyler. The tips of her heels sank into the damp ground and threw her slightly off balance as they walked.
"Got a DB out at the Sacagewassett River," Reese whispered. Her tone was somber, but her step was full of energy. He knew Reese wasn’t cold-hearted, but she had the same enthusiasm for the job that Sam had had when he was young. She hadn’t been hardened by years of seeing people mistreat each other as Sam and Jo had.
"Any details?" Sam assumed since she’d mentioned the river that the body had been found in the water. He hated floaters. Depending how long they’d been in, it could be quite gruesome. And lots of times they were kids. Sam hoped to hell this one wasn’t a kid.
Reese shook her head. "I can come along if you need an extra hand." Her eyes flicked toward the gravesite, and then she looked down, probably feeling bad about the implication that she might replace Tyler.
"Thanks, Reese. Can’t. You have to graduate from the academy before I can send you out in the field."
Sam reached for the door handle of the Tahoe. It was a little beat up, but their small-town budget couldn’t afford new cars, so they’d bought it used and made a deal with Al Riddell at the body shop to paint it with the police logo. It worked well enough for what they needed.
A hand fell on his shoulder as he opened the door, and he turned, looking into Jo’s wide gray eyes. They were moist and flecked with concern, but a fire of anger burned deep inside them.
"Don’t worry. We’re going to catch the guy that did this," she said.
Sam’s eyes drifted back toward the gravesite. The person that had shot Tyler had run off, and so far they had precious few leads. But Sam was making it a personal mission to bring him to justice. So was Jo.
"I know. But right now there’s someone else that needs our help."
Jo nodded then hopped into the Crown Vic with Kevin. Sam started up the Tahoe and headed toward the river. The loud gunshots from the twenty-one-gun salute rang in his ears as he drove past the wrought-iron gates and out of the cemetery.
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