“No, I do not,” Bob answers confidently. “I know he must be dealing with a lot right now and what Mr. Morgan was accusing me of must have been rather upsetting to him. While I am not happy with his behavior, I do not wish to press charges.”

“I can’t say I’m not glad to hear you say that, Mr. Miller. Scott can be a bit of a loose cannon, and his behavior was horrible, but deep down he is a good sheriff.”

Bob just nods, clearly wanting to get this all over with.

“All right, then. We will be separating the two of you.” He points at Bob and Anne. “I will have two officers escort you into separate rooms.” A pair of officers enter. “If you would please follow them.” Sheriff Stevens drops back into an open-armed stance as if playing Christ at the center of the table in The Last Supper.

Anne gives a quick glance at me. I purse my lips giving her neither direction, nor communication. Bob walks out with his chin slightly up in the air.

When everyone exits, Matthew and I are left face to face with Sheriff Stevens.

“So…” he opens the exchange, “quite the shitshow in the upper echelon today.” A sardonic grin is plastered on his face. I know he likes to have the upper hand and see me squirm. He is going to milk this show for all it is worth now that he has me back on his ground. I’m not going to cave to him though.

“Yeah,” I respond.

“If only some officers of the law would have responded faster when an alarm went off telling them a man accused of murder who is on house arrest went barreling off his designated premises at 100mph, then maybe this all could have been avoided. But hey, it’s hard to hear alarm bells over the loud chewing of doughnuts,” Matthew quips.

I glance at Matthew and let a small smile sneak into the corners of my mouth.

“Who are you?” Sheriff Stevens asks.

“Matthew Latchaw,” he thrusts his hand for a handshake, establishing dominance.

Sheriff Stevens folds his arms in front of his chest. “Our officers followed protocol to the best of their ability and were mere minutes behind Mr. Morgan upon him leaving his domicile. You both should be thankful for how fast they did in fact respond. The scene at your office could have been far worse.” There’s a serious tone to his delivery.

“Maybe so. But if Scott Summers hadn’t been there Bob might still be able to walk normally this evening,” I chime in.

“Deputy Summers actions were… regrettable as I noted. His behavior will be dealt with.”

“What’s the plan? I ask wanting to move this process along. My cheek is burning and I need a stiff drink.