It was a warm evening, although cooler than the day had been, trees casting long shadows in the orange light of the setting sun. It was humid though, even in the Sheriff's air conditioned car. He sat in the driver's seat, eyes shaded from the dappled light on the edge of the woods, a couple of square miles of trees stuck in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable expanse of almost featureless farmland. The road ran through the middle of the copse, and a few dirt tracks branched off from it; although most of them didn't lead to anything interesting.
The Sheriff was waiting for a particular vehicle, his car pulled over to the side of the road. He knew it would be coming this way, the alternative routes all added a good hour to the journey and laying in wait at this location afforded some shade for him at least, a little cover. He stretched out his arms over the steering wheel, he hadn't been waiting all that long but these waits always dragged, especially close to the end of a shift. His hand moved down, reflexively tapping the pistol on his hip and he glanced over at his hat on the passenger's seat. Neither had moved since he last checked a couple of minutes ago.
Eventually, in the distance, he saw a vehicle approaching. He sat up a little and as it got closer he saw exactly what he had been waiting for. A pickup truck, cherry red originally, now faded into something slightly more subtle. There were a couple of dents in the body work, but it was clean, neat and in good working order for a truck it's age. The chrome bumpers still shone. As it passed by, into the woods, the Sheriff pulled out behind it. He hit the lights, flashing up red and blue, lighting up the shadows cast by the trees, unmissable.
A moment later, the truck indicated and pulled off onto one of those dead-end dirt tracks, dust kicking up behind it as it slowed to a halt. The Sheriff stopped his car behind the truck. He picked up his hat and stepped out, placing it on his head and taking a moment to make sure it was straight. Tall and slim, his tan uniform hanging slightly loose, he walked towards the truck squinting slightly under the brim of his hat. He was frowning a little, one of the signs of a long, unsatisfying shift, along with a dusting of stubble on his jaw.
The truck door swung open with a slight creak and a pair of black-booted feet slipped out onto the ground. "I didn't ask you to get out." He said as she emerged.
She was wearing a blue patterned dress, short, above the knees and those boots ended just below them. Her long, dark hair hung loosely over her shoulders, and she brushed an errant strand away from her blue eyes. "I haven't spooked you, have I Sheriff?" She smiled a little, a mix of amusement and a hint of annoyance, her accent just a fraction thicker than his, a slightly more lyrical rhythm to it.
He stopped a few steps from her, near the tailgate of the truck. "You oughta know the drill by now Katy, we've done this enough times." He had known her just about all his life, she was a couple of years younger and it wasn't like there were a whole lot of different schools around here. They may not have been in the same circles, but those circles intersected a lot in a place like this, a messy Venn diagram of relationships, friendships and rivalries that made sure that half the county were on first name basis.
"And what is it I'm supposed to've done this time?" She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Her life had gone in a different direction to his, but it'd be a stretch to call her a criminal, just someone with poor impulse control. She'd spent a few nights in his cells over the years, more often than not because she'd had too much to drink. The few times it had been something more serious, it hadn't been worth pressing charges. Katy was an annoyance, albeit the best looking one he had to deal with on a regular basis.
"Fella over in Braxton says you scammed him out of a couple of hundred bucks." He explained, moving slowly around towards the front of her truck, keeping his distance, trying to get a look into the cab. He wasn't expecting to see a wad of cash sat in the passenger's seat, but it was worth a look. He felt her eyes on him, following him. He didn't see anything, but there weren't too many places to hide something in there.
She sighed, feigning annoyance. The Sheriff was a good guy, he needed to relax a little but he was nice to look at and she'd talked her way out of far more complicated situations before. "Did this fella name me?"
"He gave a pretty good description of you and your truck. There's not many other hot brunettes who drive cherry red pickups around here Katy."
"He said I'm hot?" She asked innocently.
"He said you took two hundred dollars, claimed it was some kinda business deal." He pressed, not wanting to get drawn into her games. It was getting late and it'd been a long day.
"He accused me of being a hooker Sheriff. Tried to pay me for sex" There was a little ice in her voice this time. She'd been accused of a lot of things, she'd even done a few of them, but not that. And certainly not for a couple of hundred bucks. "There I was, thinking we were just two people enjoying a drink, then he starts making these... assumptions."
"And I'm sure you didn't do anything to dissuade him once he started flashing the cash." He retorted.
"I'm not a goddam hooker!" She shot back angrily, pointing a finger at him. "And I didn't take his goddam money. I left when he was in the bathroom and that cash was exactly where he left it." She added quickly.
