After the Storm

Chapter 7

A few minutes later, Emma followed Jack Thompson into the Sheriff's office attached to the small court house. Seated behind the chest high Formica counter, Deputy Jody Carlson was typing on a very retro tan typewriter, pecking each key deliberately with a snap! snap! He looked up and grinned at Mr. Thompson and waved.

"Hiya, Jack! What can I do ya for?" the pleasant young man asked, grinning widely, making ears that were a little large wiggle up each side of his head, and showed off the wide space in his front teeth.

"Here about one Sawyer Riggs. Sheriff Dwyer called my office a few minutes ago," he replied.

Carlson's face turned red and serious. "Oh yessir! Just a moment."

Though the office spaces were only a few feet away from the front desk, he pressed a button on an ancient intercom and announced their arrival. A moment later, a distinguished older man in a light blue uniform stepped through a door off to the left of the wire screened reception area.

"Jack. Ms. Mason. I take it by your presence here, you know Mr. Riggs?" he asked as he came to stand across the intake area from them.

"Yes," she replied, "He's been working for me at the ranch. What happened?"

"How's about I let him tell you?" he asked, then turned toward his deputy. "Carlson, take Mr. Thompson and Ms. Mason to holding so they can talk to Mr. Riggs, please."

Snapping to attention, Carlson replied, "Yessir! Sir, ma'am...If you'll come to the door on your right, I'll let you through."

Emma felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, uncertain what to think about this man she barely knew. What in the world was he thinking? He was not here to get drunk today. The emotional roller coaster of her day was gaining momentum and she felt her stomach sink as if approaching the precipice of the highest drop. Her heart pounded as she rapid cycled from sad to mad, to confused, back to irate. How dare he embarrass her like this! The nerve of the man!

The trek down the depressing gray corridor to the jail portion of the Sheriff's Office fed her melancholy, so by the time they crossed into the jaundiced fluorescent light of the secure area, she'd had to wipe a tear from her cheek. With a practiced motion, she put her shoulders back and stood tall, setting her mouth firmly into an impassive moue, she stepped up next to Jack Thompson and absorbed the pitiful sight of Sawyer Riggs in a wire cage that served as a holding cell. Seated on a metal bench, legs spreadeagled, head hanging into his hands, he looked small and vulnerable. Not like a drunken menace, not like the belligerent idiot she had imagined.

"Riggs! You've got company," Carlson announced. Riggs looked up and the sadness in his eyes gave Emma pause. The words she was ready to hurl at him for his behavior died on her tongue.

He jumped up and stood at attention, or tried, wobbling a little, tell-tale of the drunken part of his charges. With a pained expression, he murmured, "Emma."

She could not say anything, still trying to figure out where to start, and the older man at her side stepped in. "Mr. Riggs, I'm Jack Thompson. I believe we have an appointment this afternoon. Can you please enlighten Ms. Mason and I as to why we are meeting under these circumstances?"

As if for the first time, Riggs seemed to notice the man next to Emma. He paled at the mention of their appointment. "Yessir. I can. I'm very sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen. I'm really embarrassed."

"Well, instead of apologizing, why don't you explain what this is all about?" Mr. Thompson urged.

Riggs looked back to Emma and caught her eye. Nearly without blinking, he described his side of the events of the afternoon...