Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (books on motivation .txt) 📗

hair was pulled into a mess of a ponytail. Her full lips were still chapped, despite having applied Carmex to them half a dozen times this morning. The little bit of mascara she flicked over her eyelashes and the tinted moisturizer she rubbed all over her face made her look a little put together. Dressed in blue jeans and a white tee, she didn’t look the part of a chief deputy yet.

“One of the binders contains all the typical HR-type stuff. Employee handbook. Rules and regulations. Yadda yadda, it’s a bore of a read. The smaller one is what Sam mentioned yesterday. It’s a bit more exciting, so I’d recommend switching it up between the two.” She smiled. “It’s pertinent information for you concerning the town and the town hoodlums, as I like to call them.” Barb twisted up her lips. “Always a bad apple or two in the bunch,” she said, instantly untwisting her lips and returning a small, welcoming smile to her face.

“Thanks for the advice and the hospitality.” Kimberley nodded, walking away from the wardrobe and pulling her box from the floor to set it on the desk.

Barb took a seat and looked up at Kimberley, her face completely lit up. “So, you mentioned you had a daughter? Tell me all about her.”

Kimberley hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t one to open up about her personal life. “Well, her name is Jessica.”

“Ohh, I just love that name.”

“She’s sixteen months old.”

“Such a good age.” Barb clapped her hands together.

“Umm… she loves coloring and always wants to play with anything I have in my hands,” Kimberley said with a laugh.

“That doesn’t change with age.” Barb shook her head. “I’ve got a five-year-old grandson. He damn near poked his eye out with my knitting needle one time and he’s unraveled my yarn balls on numerous occasions. It’s why I’m so gray.” Barb pointed to her curly gray hair. “I swear it’d be a beautiful blond if it weren’t for that little rascal.” She laughed.

“Looks like I have a lot to look forward to.” Kimberley cracked a smile.

“Jessica sounds sweet. I’d love to meet her sometime.”

“Of course.”

Barb stood from her chair. “I’ll leave you to get settled. I’m sure I’ve missed a half dozen calls already. Sam will be in soon to issue your badge and firearm. He got caught up with a traffic violation on his way in, so he’s running later than you.” Barb raised an eyebrow. “Anything else you need right away?”

Kimberley looked around the room and then back at Barb. “Nope. All good here.”

“Great. I’ll be in the front or just press zero on your desk phone. Go ahead and get settled in,” she said, backing out of the office.

“Detective King, settling in I see.”

Kimberley glanced up to find Sam standing in the doorway of her office. He had a box in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. A small smile spread on his face as their eyes met.

“I am.” She nodded. “Just giving the office a little bit of a personal touch.” She motioned to the frame and box of stuff on her desk.

Sam took a couple of large steps into the office. He set down his mug of coffee and hovered his hand over a framed picture of Jessica. “May I?”

Kimberley nodded. He picked it up and turned it over, looking at the photo. His eyes tightened for a brief second, so brief Kimberley almost missed it.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, scanning the photo once more before returning it to its original position. “I bet she keeps you busy.”

“You have no idea,” Kimberley said wearily.

Sam’s eyes tightened slightly once again, but he relaxed them and cleared his throat with a small cough.

“You met Bear?”

“Yes.” Bear. She liked the shortened nickname.

“And he didn’t give you any grief?”

“A small amount of grief was given, but it’s all good,” Kimberley said.

“Good.”

Sam tapped the black box with his fingers and then held it out to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it,” he said with a smile.

Kimberley took it from him and lifted the cover, revealing a silver .38 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver tucked inside.

“What’s this?” She looked up at him.

“Your service firearm.” He gave her a quizzical look.

“You guys don’t carry pistols?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.

“No, revolvers are traditional for a sheriff’s office and they’re reliable, since they never jam.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

“What if you need to reload quickly?”

“Ha. Most of the deputies on my force have never even fired their gun, let alone needed to reload it. Aside from Deputy Hill, our sharp foot shooter.”

“Then you won’t mind if I carry this instead?”

Kimberley pulled a black case from the box on top of her desk. She unclipped the clasps and opened it, revealing an all-black Glock 9mm.

Sam eyed the gun with an air of suspicion. “I suppose not, but what’s wrong with this one?” He motioned to the revolver.

“Oh, she’s been with me ever since I joined the force and, unlike your men’s firearms, she’s gotten me out of quite a few jams and I don’t mean toe jams,” Kimberley said with a laugh, running her fingers over it.

“Well, I hope I’ll never have to hear her, while you’re with us.” He smiled. “And if it makes you more comfortable, be my guest. Just make sure you have Ms. Glock registered with the department.”

“It’s actually Ms. Betty,” Kimberley said sarcastically.

Sam uncrossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Betty?”

“No one ever suspects a Betty.”

“Well, alright then. Go ahead and keep Mr. Reliable.” Sam pointed to the revolver. “He’s already registered to you, so he’s yours anyway.”

Kimberley picked up the revolver and the Glock and held them out. Pointing them at the side wall, she stared down the barrels of both guns, feeling the weight of them in her hands.

“I think Ms. Glock and Mr. Reliable will make a great team.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow, looking back at Sam. She perked up the corner of her lip while