Shotgun, Shovels & Troubles

Here I am, still stuck in Shotgun, Colorado dealing with mountain folk who live by different rules and take pleasure poking around in everyone’s private business.

My boss at the DEA won’t let me return to D.C..

The leader of the d**g cartel is still hunting me.

Fine, I don’t want to die. Trouble is, I think I’m going soft. Someone shot at me. Instead of shooting back, I escaped inside an abandoned coal mine. What a place to hide, dark cave, neck deep in pickaxes and shovels. You’d think I would know better. I’m not interested in bunking with bears or other wild creatures.

Worse yet, the handsome town doctor is making me miss D.C. less and less, with his chiseled chest and charming ways. He even took me on a date to the Hot Pots—boy, did my mind come up with some interesting ideas about what a hot pot was. And when I’m not on a date? I dodge the sheriff. So I helped my friends break into a few storage units. I couldn’t let them down could I?. The sheriff’s mother thinks I would be a fantastic Mrs. Sheriff, and isn’t shy about shoving me at her son every chance she gets. Add in a dose of shameless flirting at a campground, spinning in circles in the middle of a love triangle, and another dead body.  I’m beginning to wonder if hiding in this town is worse than letting the cartel’s goons track me down.

How many murders does it take to change a sheriff? Every corpse makes it harder to convince the sheriff I’m just an innocent, every day, medical professional. Then again, I am masquerading as one. Maybe the sheriff’s instincts are a bit too good.

I better get busy solving this mystery before the sheriff kicks me out of town for stepping on his toes. Or worse, thinks I’m somehow involved in the murder.

Again.