"I'm Harper Connelly," I said. "This is my brother, Tolliver Lang."
We weren't what she'd expected, either. She gave me a scan up and down.
"You don't look like a dingbat," she said.
"You don't look like a prejudiced stereotype," I said.
The dispatcher sucked in her breath. Uh-oh.
Tolliver was right behind me, slightly to my left, and I felt nothing but a calm waiting coming from him. He always had my back.
"Come into my office. We'll talk," said the tall woman. "My name is Sandra Rockwell, and I've been sheriff for one year." Sheriffs are elected in North Carolina. I didn't know how long her term was, but if she'd only been a sheriff a year, she must have plenty to go. Politics might not be as urgent a consideration for Sheriff Rockwell as they would be during election year.
We were in her office by then. It wasn't very big, and it was decorated with pictures of the governor, a state flag, a U.S. flag, and some framed certificates. The only personal thing on Sheriff Rockwell's desk was one of those clear cubes you can fill with pictures. Her cube was full of shots of the same two boys. They were both brown-haired like their mother. One of them, grown, had a wife and child of his own. Nice. The other one had a hunting dog.
"You-all want some coffee?" she asked as she slid into the swivel chair behind the ugly metal desk.
I looked at Tolliver, and we both shook our heads.
"Well, then." She put her hands flat on the desk. "I heard about you from a detective in Memphis. Young, her name is."
I smiled.
"You remember her, then. She's partnered with a guy named Lacey?"
I nodded.
"She seemed like a sensible person.