CHAPTER
6
The following morning, erratic wind gusts, strong and cold, accompanied me throughout the drive into Castle Valley. I pulled into the sheriff’s substation parking area a few minutes before eight and when I spotted only Duane’s patrol car parked outside the front door, my stomach tightened with annoyance. “Shit.” I always felt far more at ease if Sheriff Marshall Turnbull or even their compliant dispatchereceptionist, Julie, was present when Deputy Duane Potts was around. The man was a competent-enough law enforcement officer, but as a human being, he sucked. Well-known around town as a “skirt chaser”, his constant attempts to furtively hit on me always left a sour taste in my mouth. The fact that he had a very sweet wife—albeit a bit overweight and perpetually exhausted f
